The Administorum
Battle Related Forums => Board Battle Archives => Board Battles => The Scrap Heap => Topic started by: Tyvaris on June 15, 2010, 09:34:13 PM
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Lark Ornnen took a deep swig from the frosty tankard of ale just as the balled fist caught him square in the jawline. The bar interior span for what felt like an eternity in Lark's fleeting vision as he crashed upon the uneven wooden floor. The tankard of ale plastering patrons next to him in a froth of fermented barley. He had caught a faint glimpse of a white uniform in his spiraling fall and even though his senses were knocked awry by the blast he already knew his attacker could be none other than Captain Tellos Stormslade. Lark spat blood and a molar from his mouth as he sat up on the alcohol stained floor rubbing his swelling cheek. Lark was astonished when Tellos offered him a hand.
"Is that how you welcome an old friend?" Lark gurgitated through his blood filled mouth as he accepted the outstretched arm and was pulled to his feet.
Tellos smirked mockingly and replied. "If you weren't an old friend it would of been a bullet. You whore-son wretch." The bearded naval officer smiled although it seemed to belie the other sinister thoughts that were veiled behind it.
"You violated the Privateer's code. That's something you can't do without being severely punished." Tellos pointed menacingly at the still wobbling Lark and said. "You are lucky I don't kill you right here for what you've taken from me." Tellos massaged his swelling knuckles and watched as Lark brushed at his ale drenched jacket waiting impatiently for Lark to speak.
"Why should I care about your Privateer code?" Lark asked seemingly oblivious to the fact that four more white uniformed privateers appeared behind the statuesque captain. "I'm not a privateer anymore. In fact I don't own a ship anymore." Lark said matter of factually as he spit a blob of coagulated blood from the side of his mouth.
"Don't play games with me Lar. I've known you since the Kallic invasion. I know you think your some kind of aeroship captain but that doesn't forgive you for being a thief. Even if you aren't a Privateer I know Aeros aren't scum like you." Tellos turned to face his newly arrived crew members. "You see Lar, I want what you took from me and if you don't give it back I'll make sure my boys here find another way to pay back your debt."
"I'd sure like to seem them try: Besides I don't have those worthless guns anymore. Cheaply made, rusty steel jamming contraptions; I sold them to a trader from Fardeth for a keg of ale." Lar smiled as he watched Tellos' bearded face redden with anger.
"How dare you insult me. Those cylinder guns were the finest arms that my lineage have ever made. I know you still have them. They're probably mounted on that hovering trash heap you call an Aeroship." Tellos bellowed the anger swelling inside him. "You have til the end of this week to get me those guns back. Even if you have to go to Fardeth to get them. I promise you old friend that if they aren't back I'll make sure all of your limbs are crippled just like that one." He pointed at Lark's right leg. Lark's smile disappeared at the mention of his maimed right leg and he looked Tellos in the eye with anguish in his eyes. Lark knew Tellos had witnessed how his leg was maimed in the breaking of the siege of Kall against the Orc host. This was an insult that hit Lark to the core.
"Fine, I'll bring them to you in four sunsets, you blabbering sea dog." Lark lied.
"Lar, you know you don't have a choice. I have privateer brethren in every town and city from here to the Inland Sea. A crusty face like yours will be easy to spot. Mark my words you'd be a dead man." Captain Tellos Stormblade, Lark regretfully knew was telling the truth.
"You'll have them in four nights." Lark said knowing that he was signing his own death warrant.
"I have your word then. I'll be watching you. So don't you even think about flying off in that trash ship of yours either. For perhaps I already spoke with that rabble you call a crew and maybe I know quite a few have families in Mistvald that they won't want to see any harm come to." Tellos's licked his lips and smiled for he knew that even if Lark were to flee his crew would revolt or mutiny if threatened with such an act.
"You'll have them, you mongrel. Now leave." Lark knew he was pretty much dead in four nights and just wanted rid of the pompous naval captain. He needed time to think, or at least have something stiff to drink. Tellos shook his head and laughed as he turned and waved his crewmen to follow. The biggest crewman in a sweat stained uniform which appeared to want to burst open with tensed muscles gave a throat slitting signal before chuckling and leaving the bar.
"Inbred buffoon." Lark mumbled under his breath. Thinking now about how badly he could go for the ale that now made his shirt and jacket a soggy mess.
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Lark had no sooner mounted a stool and turned back to the bar when he was spun around in his seat and a muzzle of a rusted flintlock appeared in his face. When his vision unblurred from focusing on the hollow steel muzzle he could see down the gun and up the red filigreed arm to the stern face of Parth Sinder. Lark couldn't believe it; could his luck get any worse today.
"I'm amazed a pile of pig dung like you could even bare to show his face in this city again." Parth said as he cocked the pistol.
"Well I was just about to leave." Lark said trying to duck away from the muzzle which tracked his head like a magnet.
"I don't think so." Parth said forcing Lark back into his seat with a swift kick of a muddy boot smashing his back to the bar. "Honestly, how stupid do you think you made me feel when you tricked me into that fool's errand. I should of known when I saw that grubby halfling that he had to be a member of your crew." Parth shock his head in disbelief at how easy it had been to find the man who sent him on a six month trek across hundreds of miles of hostile land.
"I should of known that tale that manling told me was too good to be true. I spent a winter in the most remote lands and scuttled my aeroship for lack of coal hundreds of miles from a settlement. I fought my way through barbarians, goblins, and froze just to survive to find you." Lark couldn't believe Parth was standing here with a gun to his temple. Lark knew that he was probably going to die for the trick he had pulled on Parth, but at the time when both he and his crew were starving and the situation was dire he had to rid himself of his stiffest competition. When competition was so fierce and a livelihood was on the line; a man would do just about anything he could to get an edge over his rivals. Even if Lark assumed he'd never see Parth again the risk at the time seemed worth it. He had sent his halfling lieutenant and navigator, Grumbald Aleheart to Parth's Aeroship with a falsified Legislated decree from the Mistvald Legislator stating that the vessel was to take an emergency cargo to Darnth on the far western fringe of the Five Realms. The decree stated that a hefty reward would be supplied by the Darnthian Regent when the supplies arrived. Lark hadn't expected that Parth would take the cargo to Darnth without checking to see that it was crates of sand. Lark's stomach sank as he resented making the decision that now put the ire of Parth Sinder and the entire crew of Parth's aero against him. Lark knew that he couldn't talk his way out of this one. He sighed waiting for the inevitable pistol crack that would end his miserable existence and splatter his brain pulp all over the ale stained bar.
"Well look at how much I brought you and your crew together Parth." Lark said with a dry grin as he contemplated whether he would hear the pistol crack or if he'd die before the sound of the pistol ever reached his ears.
"I've waited a long time for this." Parth said with a smile that almost split the ragged cheeks of the aero captain. A smile that spoke of grim satisfaction at having his most hated prey trapped like a bug beneath his heavy boot. Parth's frostbitten finger crept slowly to the trigger as Lark's vision blurred to focus on the muzzle again. Lark refused to close his eyes for he was going to take this like man. He stared Parth in the eyes to take away the satisfaction of allowing the deceived aero to watch him cowering in fear.
A shot rang out. Lark blinked and when he opened his eyes he expected to see the nothingness of death, but instead he saw the flintlock slowly inch from his head to point at the floor. Lark looked at Parth's face to see that it was now turned to face the door of the bar as three figures entered; one holding a smoking pistol. A warning shot, Lark realized but from who? Who would save him? He had more enemies than a rapist serial killing orc pirate.
To Lark and Parth's surprise the figure that came in silhouetted by the sun beyond the bar's doors was wearing the crimson robes of a Mistvald Legislator and flanked by two Black Wardens. The legislator's red flowing robe accentuated his grey bearded face and added to his regal appearance. Surely someone of such stature shouldn't be hanging out in the dregs of Mistvald unless he were looking for something or someone, Lark thought.
"Lark Ornnen?" The legislator asked.
"YEAH." Lark said quickly and loud enough for everyone in the bar to here him.
"Come with me." The Legislator commanded. "You there." The Legislator pointed at Parth. "Follow and you will perish. This man is now under the jurisdiction of the High Governance of Mistvald. You will not lay a finger on Lark Ornnen or my men will have you rotting in a dungeon for eternity ."
Parth's mouth opened to protest and thought better of it when he saw the stone cold look of the Legislator. Instead he turned and spoke to Lark. "I will kill you another day then. Swine."
"Away now." The Legislator gestured to Parth. Parth rose and spat in the direction of Lark and headed to the door; bumping shoulders with one of the Legislator's bodyguards as he departed.
The Legislator beckoned for Lark to follow and without haste Lark turned around grabbed a full tankard chugged it, wiped his drenched chin with his sleeve, and took off across the bar scanning for any other phantom enemies he may have failed to discovered. Outside the bar in the bristling sun drenched busy streets an ornate government carriage awaited. Lark had barely taken a seat inside when the Legislator began to speak.
"Before we begin, I want you to understand that what I am about to say is to never leave this carriage." To this Lark replied. "You have my word."
"As much as I would like to take your word. You must understand that I just witnessed two threats on your life in about as many hours from those who took your word. You will do as I tell you or you will regret ever coming to Mistvald. Do not think because I am a politician that I am a fool or that I am weak. I can put you in the deepest darkest hole in the Five Realms." The Legislator threatened. "I know your past. I know they say you are a war hero, but I also know that you were a pirate. You once bore the death mark of a Pirate that I know now is covered with the legion mark of the Kallic army. You cannot hide from your past forever." The Legislator paused for a moment to gesture to the carriage driver to move out.
"Do you understand? Outlander?" The Legislator asked staring Lark in the eye.
"Yes. Speak Legislator. I understand." Lark said tired of all the obfuscation.
"I have a mission for you and your ship. A mission that only you or your crew are to be privy to." To this Lark nodded intent to discover every detail. "A courier aero arrived yesterday from Keln. It appears an aeroship known as the Vilya has disappeared. You are to find this vessel." The Legislator commanded. "This is a matter of the strictest secrecy. If anything I say is released to anyone, I'll have you hanged."
"What is this Vilya? I've never heard of it." Lark questioned.
"The Vilya is a cargo aeroship sent on a secret mission to deliver aid to the besieged city of Pion." Lark's eyes widened at the mention of Pion. "It is carrying a special cargo of which must not fall into the hands of the attackers."
"Pion? That's at least three weeks travel from here even at full steam. As you said; Pion is besieged. You honestly want me to lead a suicide mission hundreds of miles to a war torn city-state? That is no ordinary army that besieges Pion." Lark shuddered. He had heard the stories filtering in from the north of the Kabalist legions. An army of war painted barbarians who worshiped the moon and prayed to dark gods.
"Yes, but the Vilya has gone missing beyond Keln it has not made its way to Pion. The ship must be found at all costs. You are to find the Vilya and retrieve it's cargo." The aged Legislator demanded.
"How am I supposed to know what this special cargo is when or if I find it?"
"The cargo would be hidden in plain view as a bust of the goddess Orphia. Bring me the bust that is all I require."
"What is in it for me? I mean that is a long voyage into hostile territory and I don't have the coal and stowage to get there. A trip to Pion will be very costly." Lark demanded stroking his goatee. Although he knew that he had little room to negotiate.
"You will be given a sealed decree for the coal and food stores. You will meet with a contact in Keln and refit there. The Vilya is carrying a cargo of bullion gold and weapons meant for the garrison at Pion. The gold is enough to pay the defending mercenary legion at Pion it's worth more than a new aeroship. The cargo and gold is yours. If the captain or crew are alive you are to deliver this decree to them relieving the gold and supplies to your possession." The Legislator handed him a sealed parchment.
"That seems nice but I don't think even with a ship full of gold I'd be able to pay off the debts I've created here." Lark stated trying to squeeze out everything he could; as he felt he honestly wasn't going to survive a mission to Pion and if he did he wanted it to be worth while.
"Ah yes. Your two friends in the bar; I will take care of them, if you get me the cargo." the Legislator assured.
"And so I must ask you, my liege. What if I don't accept this "mission" of yours or find this Vilya. What then? Why shouldn't I just hop on my Aero and fly south to Burdin and forgot all of this?" Lark asked as he crossed his arms over his chest anticipating to see the legislator beg.
"Mr. Ornnen need I remind you that I am a legislator. To fail to accept my offer would force me to do the obvious: To publicly execute you for piracy against the people of the Five Realms." A sinister grin appeared accross the Legislator's face. "As you know Mr. Ornnen being a legislator means that I travel and have a great many political connections. I would make sure that should you not fulfill my offer or if you even think about stealing the bust and making off with it I shall have you hunted down and burned alive."
"Seems like I don't have a choice. Well Legislator with no name I'll do it, but if there isn't any gold or reward I'll do the obvious too and pilfer off your bust to the dirtiest Dwarve trader I find and I'll make sure you spend the rest of your days searching miles of underground Dwarven mines for your darling Orphia."
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Lark was dropped off at a street corner near the eastern docks where the Legislator had arranged a waiting common carraige to take Lark back to the Mistvald Aerodrome. The Legislator made it strongly aware that he was not to ever be see with Lark and that noone beyond his crew were to know about the mission. Lark wasn't sure if he should be glad he now had a paying job or if he should curse his luck. Flying to Pion through barbarian and hostile territory to find an aero that could be anywhere. Let alone the fact that it was on it's way to one of the must brutal warzones in the Realms. It sounded like suicide and yet to Lark it seemed to put him at ease knowing he'd soon feel the excitement of the unknown again. If only he were ten years younger he thought as he stepped out of the carriage and thanked driver, perhaps this might be his last adventure for better or worst.
The Mistvald Aerodrome was a series of long hangers and sheds with a long aerostrip for Aeroplanes and Aeroships to land on. Lark had barely been able to make the weekly payments to rent one of the massive hanger bays. Before he even made it into his allotted bay he could sense something was wrong.
Lark spotted first his wrencher Mcree pulling a cart full of spare parts and sacks of belongings out of hanger with a dapper look upon him. Following Mcree were the last few remnants of his crew all carrying their belongings either pulled in carts like Mcree or slung in torn or shabby sacks over their shoulders.
"WAIT." Lark called to his crew as he began to run knowing he hadn't told any of them they could have a leave of absence. Some of the deckhands on noticing Lark began to either lower their heads or scuttle off faster.
"Where are you going?" Lark questioned as he caught up to Mcree who was hindered by the parts cart which was too heavy allow him to slip away from the hanger fast enough to elude Lark.
Mcree stopped pulling his cart and looked Lark in the eyes, "It's over Lar. We're all done."
"What do you mean your done. I've paid you for atleast another month." Lark's anger starting to build.
"You heard me. Done. We have all had enough. And frankly what you paid us isn't a quarter as much we could get elsewhere and without all the threats and danger involved." Mcree explained. "We were only sticking around because we had no where else to go or were to stupid to realise the truth. That your a failure as an Aero captain and it's not worth the risk to get killed for nothing."
"Mcree, you know I'd get us out of this slump. Stick with me. I have something real big I need you guys for. It's really important you stay." Lark pleaded.
"I'm sorry Lar. It's over. Tellos and Parth stopped by and they've promised to kill any of us who stick with you. I don't intend to stick around to find out if they will." Mcree said as he stared off not trying to see the look of dismay and unbelief Lark now shown.
"Please stay. I promise you this mission will solve all of our problems. We'll be richer than you could imagine." Lark pleaded one last time knowing that if he couldn't persuade Mcree now he never would.
"No Lark. We've stuck around long enough listening to your idle promises. We're done. Good bye and good luck Lar." Mcree turned and walked away without looking back.
Lark stared after Mcree and the others in stark disbelief. How could his crew of years just abandon him when he needed them the most. Lark knew he was dead. It two days he'd probably be lying face down in a gutter with a knife projecting from his back. He finally lowered his head when Mcree and the others disappeared from view. He shook his head still not able to comprehend how in one day his life could go so horribly wrong. Lark stepped into the dusty hanger bay wondering if his trusty companion Grumbald had abandonned him too.
The hanger was filled with the massive flying machine of the Graceful Gale. Lark's aeroship was a massive contraption of steel sheet and taurpalin that barely filled the huge expanse of the hanger bay.
Topping the aeroship were two smaller yet equally complex sparrow aeroplanes. Each sparrow was a sleek cylinder gun fitted reconaisance aeroplane mounted on flight skids atop the aero. Capable of launching at a moments notice to defend the Graceful Gale.
Lark admired his ship even if it was grossly technologically out of date compared to newer aeroships. The ship which had been built ten years prior had been one of the first used to transport cargo from city-state to city-state. Ten years was a long service life for a newly developed technology such as aeroflight. Lark who was already crushed by the desertion of his crew felt his heart sink even more knowing that his his ship which he had worked so hard for was going to probably end up in the hands of his enemies. An unwilling bequethment to pay one of his many posthumous debts. Lark knew that even if they sold everything on the Graceful Gale including the sparrows that Grumbald would never be able to pay off his debts enough to keep the aero and Lark didn't even want to think about the possiblity that Parth may kill Grumbald for his part in his treachery.
"Grum," lark called out to the craft hoping Grumbald would answer him.
"Lar?" Grumbald Aleheart's gruff voice questioned from the craft's pilot house.
"I never thought I'd ever be happy to hear that scruffy voice as much as I do right now. Get out here you short rascal. We have a couple problems to figure out." Lark said trying to be as chipper as he could be.
"I know what you mean Lar. I tried to stop them. I begged Mcree and the others not to leave. They wouldn't listen. I couldn't stop them." Grumbald said with a gruff sad voice.
"Forget them Grum. We have to think about us now. We need to get out of Mistvald and we need to leave as soon as possible." Lark said as he walked past Grumbald to climb up the landing skids of the Graceful Gale and enter the pilot house. Grumbald followed him continuing the conversation as they both entered the Aero.
"So what do you wanna do Lar? Where are we gonna go?" Grumbald asked.
"We'll gather what we can carry on horseback and we'll burn Gracie to the ground and head south to Burdin." Lark said without emotion although his lack of emotion was signal enough for Grumbald to know that Lark was masking how much it hurt to say it.
"Burn the Gale to the ground? Lar you can't be serious." Grumbald said aghast.
"We can't pilot an Aero by ourselves. We wouldn't be able to get it off the ground with just me and you. We don't have a wrencher or anyone to man the boiler. We have to face the facts that we need to ditch the ship and get out of Mistvald as quick as we can before one of Parth or Tellos' men trail us."
"So that's it then. We ditch Gracie and everything we've worked on for years." Grumbald bellowed frustration showing across his red bearded face.
"What would you have me do Grum? We don't have a choice." Lark said trying to plot his case.
"I've never known you to give up so easily Lar. We should at least try to get some of the crew members back or find new ones. Anything, We can't give up. Not after everything the Gale has done to save our arses." Grumbald stomped his feet and threw out his arm to take in the cabin of the Aeroship dragging his open hand around for emphasis.
"Do you honestly believe we could find a crew by tomorrow night capible of flying an aero to Pion of all places?" Lark questioned laughingly.
"PION? Who said anything about Pion. Why the hell would we go to Pion?" Grumbald said with a look of utter confusion upon his face as he looked up to Lark with an expression of curiosity.
"Oh. Pion. Yeah, about that. I was approached by a Mistvald legislator about a mission to Pion to retrieve some piece of crap artifact or something. It's of no consequence now. Your right though. We could pay or trick someone into flying us to Burdin." Lark said realising the obvious.
"A mission? To Pion? Why would anyone but soldiers want to go to Pion. It's a warzone there. Why would anyone want you to lead a mission there?" Grumbald questioned inquisitively.
"Well, for a bust of Orphia or something. The legislator really wanted it; was willing so he says to give me a whole mercenary armies worth of gold for it. Why would anyone want a bust that badly?"
"A mercenary armies worth of gold you say?"
"He said an aeroship known as the Vilya was taking a cargo to Pion for the garrison. A cargo of weapons and pay for the mercenary troops and it went missing. He was pretty serious about it too. He wanted us to find some bust of Orphia and he was willing to "take care" of Parth and Tellos if we did."
"Are you serious? Lar we should do it. It'd solve everything. I mean, I know it's suicidal. Pion for orc shat sake. That's four or five weeks of travel but to be rid of your debts and rich. How could you turn that down?" Grumbald said with a sinister grin. A grin Lark had seen on the eave of all of their earlier adventures. A look Lark hadn't seen in years. Grumbald continued. "Think man, where is our sense of adventure? where is the old Lark Ornnen I know?"
"Your right Grum. I guess I only have one question for you then." Lark said with a smile.
"Anything Lar." Grumbald said impatient for the question.
"Will you come with me to Pion?" Lark said with a mischievous grin he hadn't expressed in years.
"To the end of the world, Lar." Grumbald said with a look that only two men with years of comraderie could express between them.
"Then may Gracie give us one last flight to remember."
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Lark and Grumbald began to prepare immediately. Packing and preparing provisions making mechanical checks, checking provisions, and loading stowage. Grumbald and Lark and Grumbald moved with an eagerness they hadn't experienced in years. The ship was ready although Lark knew they had some serious problems already with the ship.
"So Grum I'm thinking we'd need a pair of pilots for the two sparrows, a wrencher, some deckhands, and if we can get someone who knows how to fire a cyl gun that would be fantastic." Lark listed.
"Well we need more than crew Lar. We're lacking some key supplies. Do you really think we can make it to Pion with out them?"
"Grum I'm gonna need you to go to the dregs and find anyone who'd be stupid enough to go on a suicide mission. I don't care if you have to trick them. I'll take care of the supplies."
"Should I offer them anything? What should I tell them? I don't have anything to give them up front. What can we pay them." Grumbald asked.
"Tell them they'll be richer than they can imagine for a month of service. If they aren't then we'll sell the Graceful Gale and give them the payment and disappear up north."
"I'll do my best. I guess it's starting to get dark out. I better be off then to the dregs before it gets too dark."
"Good Luck Grum, just tell them to meet here at the aerodrome at sunset tomorrow." Lark said as Grumbald shook his head and walked off into the fading sunset to disappear into the horizon like the rest of Lark's crew did earlier in the day.
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The misshapen shanty known as The Quandary was the nightly haunt of a variety of unsavory personalities. Its owner was a retired sailor (some said pirate). Here the whiskey was diluted, the beer was stale, the rooms were cheap and the patrons were cheaper. Yet no matter the reputation, it often was the place to go when all else was too expensive or less appealing. It fit Linden Vireo's situation perfectly.
She tromped down the inn's stairs shrugging her longcoat over her shoulders. Casually she flipped the collar up as she glanced down at the shady characters that filled the dive that evening. Her hands then found the deep pockets at her sides as she shuffled towards the door.
As she passed the bar, a halfling turned away from his ale and a conversation with the innkeep. He eyed her thoughtfully and his gaze lingered longer than she cared for. She pretended not to notice as she hurried out the door and onto the stoop. Placing a rolled cigarette between her lips she squinted around for the closest torch or lamp.
Suddenly, a flame sprung to life to her right and she felt herself jerk away instinctively. When she realized it was merely a lighter contraption, she bent back towards the offering and inhaled a few puffs as the cigarette sizzled. After a long exhale of smoke, she nodded at the halfling holding it.
"Thank you, mister," her low-toned voice acknowledged.
The halfling blew the flame out and smiled at her crookedly through his beard, "Welcome."
After they had both examined a fist fight taking place a block away, he turned back to her, "Are you looking for work?"
Linden looked down at him through slitted eyes and plucked the cigarette from her mouth, "I'm an independent pilot without a plane, so, if that's what you meant by work, I'd say my answer would be 'No'."
"Even so, I might have a job you'd be interested in."
She began to turn away, her head shaking, "I doubt it, mister."
Just as she took a step down the stairs, the short man smoothly asked, "What if it meant a new aeroplane for you when it's over?"
Her boot scuffed against the stone porch as she froze. The door opened behind them and a few patrons exited, laughing boisterously. She turned her head to the right and eyed the small fellow as the drunks passed by. Surprising herself, she turned back to him and opened her arms in a disbelieving gesture.
"Exactly what would pay such a hefty sum?"
He waited until the two men were out of earshot and tilted his head at her, mouth quirked in mild amusement, "Being the member of talented aeroship crew...and being able to follow orders. The usual."
Brushing at some invisible dirt on his sleeve, he spoke again, "You keep your head down and do what your told, we'll see to it your taken care of when we return to Mistvald. Works just like any other job you might have taken."
This little man didn't look like a pirate to her, yet the way his eyes glimmered when he said she'd be taken care of made her suspicious of such grand promises, "My other employers would make sure I had food..."
"Done."
"...shelter..."
"Done."
"...and a contract."
He chuckled darkly, the edge of anger entering his voice, and folded his arms across his chest, "I don't even know that you're a real pilot, woman. And your self-confessed lack of an aeroplane hardly helps your case. Let's not get too high and mighty."
She clenched her teeth and flicked her cigarette, pondering his words, "Some sort of insurance that I'm not going to be sold into slavery would be nice."
"You're a slave to your troubles already according to the owner of this establishment," he let that sink in for a moment, kicking at some gravel littering the porch. "He plans on kicking you out at the end of the week. Seems you're a little behind in payments?"
"None of your damn business," she said matter-of-factly and glared at him. That innkeeper chatters like a snoopy old woman.
He held up his hand and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, eyes staring right back her, "I'm trying to help you out of that situation here."
Linden's bottom teeth scraped against her upper lip as her own anger and embarrassment surfaced. She tucked her right forearm against her ribs and rested her left elbow against it's wrist as she pulled one last drag from the cigarette. Scowling, she dropped the remainder on the stone slab and outed the ember with the heel of her boot.
"Name of the aero is the Graceful Gale. Tomorrow's sunset at the Aerodrome or the streets...your choice."
He tossed the lighter into the air and marched back into the Quandary, griping to himself the whole way. Linden quickly snatched the gadget before it could hit the ground. She flinched as he slammed the door behind him. With a heavy sigh of smoke, her narrow eyes went to the object resting in her palm. Inscribed on the lighter were initials of 'PS', which had been scratched out haphazardly, and below, in similar scratch were the letters 'GA'.
Stolen?
"Better to rot in the air than on the ground I guess," she decided aloud and tucked the device into her coat pocket.
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The activity during the late afternoon at the Aerodrome was like a beehive. Rotary engines and hundreds of voices made it nearly impossible for one to think. It was especially painful to Linden, who had moped over her decision at various pubs throughout the Lower Dregs until dawn.
She blinked up at the light in the sky and saw that it would soon be time to find her new employer. With a resigned sigh, she decided she needed to go do what needed to be done. Lowering her eyes, she pressed on to a run-down storage hanger.
"'Ey!" a man's abrupt voice called to her as she came within range of her shabby little plane within the hanger. "Vireo!"
Lee, her friend and mechanic, was wiping his hands clean on a red oilrag, his plain young face twisted in annoyance. She licked her lips nervously and glanced around before she roamed in his direction. He furiously threw the rag down on the engine of his current job as she stopped in front of him. Meekly, she reached up and pulled her flight cap off, goggles and all.
"Afternoon, Lee," she greeted with a brave smile, free hand working to tame her hair.
"Do ya know how long I'been making excuses fer you?" he answered with irritation, his nostrils flaring and eyes widening. "I need whatever's in yer pockets today or bossman is goin' ta have both of us tossed in a cell."
"Fine. Scrap the plane."
"No more stallin'--eh, what?"
"Take 'er to the scrapyard and pay off the debt with whatever they can get for her. Keep the rest," Linden patted her thigh with the flight cap and looked out over the hanger, feigning disinterest in the fate of her plane.
"Okay," he responded with some doubt. "What're you goin' ta do? Yer aunt and uncle goin' ta take you in?"
"Psh," she waved away that notion and shook her head. "I got a new job. Some sort of aero crew position."
Lee picked up a wrench and flipped it into the air as he responded, "Oh yeah? Which aero?"
"Don't know."
His forehead wrinkled as his brows rose and he caught the wrench pointedly, "Ya don' know?"
"Oh," she reached up to scratch above her eyebrow as she performed a pensive scrunch of her face. "The Red Hawk?"
"Ya got a job on a military vessel?!"
"Nonono...a different Red Hawk."
Lee shook his head slightly and eyed her suspiciously, "Ah...well, they have a plane for ya then?"
"Mmhmh," she agreed absently, turning her eyes to the aeroplane he was in the midst of fixing. "Turning wrenches earning you much?"
"Not as much as a pilot on an aero apparently," he pushed. "Say...yer crew need a mechanic?"
"Nope...nope, got that all covered," she looked around the hanger one last time, lower lip pushed out as though she were in thought. "Wellp, I guess I better go find my ride. Thanks for storing the plane and all. I'll stop by when I get back."
She felt his eyes watching her as she turned on one heel and strode away as fast as she could without looking like she was running away. After a moment, he called out, "Ya watch yerself, Lindy!"
"Always do," she muttered and pulled her flight cap back over her head.
Her eyes welled a bit when she passed the plane she had just sentenced to scrap, but she didn't turn. With her upper lip stiff in determination, she made sure she had everything. Backpack, jacket, goggles, sword belt, gun, and fire contraption. She sighed and pulled the last item from her pocket. If she couldn't be afraid or upset over her plane, she could at least have one weakness.
Once the cigarette was properly perched at the side of her mouth, she continued on to ask after an aero called the Graceful Gale...
-
At the outskirts of Mistvale, a strange, bulky shape was lumbering aimlessly forward. It moved steadily, albeit with a faint limp in its left leg. Each footfall thudded loudly. Faint hisses of steam accompanied the metallic creaking of every movement.
Darkness had changed to light and back to darkness more than once since it had awoken, but it had learned nothing of the world around it since then. In that time, its body had grown ever more heavy, its movements slower. A strange desire, a feeling of hunger gnawed at its inside. The steam-powered humanoid construct did not know where it was, or where it was heading. It only knew that it was afraid, lost, and completely alone.
The dreary surroundings did little to allay those feelings of abandonment as the construct paused to get its bearings. It was standing in a narrow side-street in one of the poorest parts of town. The structures here were dilapidated, with not a single right angle or straight wall in sight. Mortar crumbled, wood rotted. Small rodents ran and chattered across uneven cobbles, pools of oily water swirling with foul colour. Flies hovered hungrily over the many piles of refuse and garbage. The construct was lucky it had no sense of smell.
Voices from nearby. Gruff, harsh, hushed voices that floated through the crooked window of a dilapidated shack. They spoke of bloody deeds - planning the murder of a nearby family for refusing to pay for their ‘protection’. The construct did not understand what their words really meant, but it felt a growing sense of fear and unease. It knew that it needed to leave here immediately.
The construct crouched as low as possible and made its way beneath the window as stealthily as its massive, creaking metallic body would allow. Its effort was for naught, however. Too concerned with what was ahead, it missed what was above – with a loud noise, a rusting metal downspout crashed against the construct’s upper back.
“What was that loud clang?!” a voice shouted.
“Someone’s here!” another said.
A door burst open, and five thugs – armed with cudgels, knives, and a flintlock pistol – ran out onto the street. They were rough, cruel-looking men, scarred and with the steely eyes of murderers. The construct panicked, and broke into a run.
“Stop him!”
“How can he move that fast in all that armour?!”
A loud crack echoed through the streets, and a metal slug impacted on the wall next to the construct’s head. They were trying to destroy it! It had to escape!
The construct forcefully hurled its massive body around a tight corner, bouncing harshly off the brick wall before continuing its run. Despite its best efforts, these tight alleys made it almost impossible to escape. The construct never had a chance to build up any momentum before it had to turn yet another corner, barely keeping its balance. The thugs were gaining. It needed to find an open space!
It heads for the nearest rays of weak morning sunlight, filtering faintly from behind a pile of planks and rags piled haphazardly at the end of an alleyway. With a loud crash and amidst a cloud of splinters and dust, the metallic humanoid hurtles out onto a wide cobbled street, loses its footing, and crashes headlong to the ground.
“We’ve got him now! Take him out!”
A cudgel is raised high as the construct struggles to get back to its feet…
-
The dwarf gritted his teeth together, eyeing the half elf across from him. The five cards in his hand were shaking. It wasn't nerves giving him such tremors. The half elf was taking all of his money. He didn't remember how they started playing cards, although he had a distinct feeling that it was this half elf's idea. One moment he was drinking a beer, the next he was excitedly fishing around for a deck of cards and buying a round for the two of them. There he goes with that sly smile again. Probably another two pair. The dwarf's eye started twitching when the half elf slid half his pile of coins foward.
The dwarf throws his cards face down onto the table in anger. "I fold, dammit! I hope you're buried with it!"
The half elf gives a big toothy grin as he scoops up the round's pot.
"My, my... Such harsh words between friends! Here, just between pals." The half elf slides a coin across the table with his pointer finger. The dwarf looks up and catches a wink from the half elf.
"Why, you crumby half breed!" The dwarf shouts as he leaps up out of his chair and over the table, knife in hand. The half elf quickly snatches up the rest of his winnings and jumps back, out range of the stubby arms snatching at him.
"Now, now, theres no need for violence." The half elf says, gripping the hilt of his scimitar as he backs up. Not looking where he's going, he bumps into a crowd of humans standing at the bar.
Drunkenly, one of them shouts, "Ey! Git yerself offa me ya lout!" Grubby hands shove the half elf into a group of dwarves sitting at a table.
"Oy! Yer the one takin' all me mates money, eh? Why we oughta pummel 'em boys!"
"Oh no! Fine sir. I was merely sent to deliver a message from that group of men over there. They requested that I inform you that they, and I quote, 'Don't take kindly to stumpy, rotten, mole people such as yourselves.' Myself I find them rather disagrea--"
The half elf is shoved out of the way as the dwarves get up and charge at the men at the bar. His poker playing friend was still stumbling across the room towards him, knife in hand. Just then a halfling throws the door open, whacking the dwarf in the face with it. Regaining his balance, the dwarf screams and lunges at the surprised halfling. A pebble comes whizzing across the room and smacks the dwarf in the head, knocking him to the ground.
In a hurry, the half elf runs for the door, grabbing the halfling by his coat and dragging him outside.
"Don't want to get caught in the middle of that mess, pal." The half elf explains with a wink as he lets go of the halflings coat.
"Get offa me! I knew the Crooked Propeller was a rough place, but brawls are rare these days." Eyeing the half elf up, he chuckles a bit. "But so are fellas such as yourself, eh half elf?"
"My heritage is none of my doing. I merely play the cards I'm dealt..." He plucks a few cards from somewhere in his armor and tosses them at the halfling. "And maybe a few others, but whos counting."
"A man who makes his own luck, I like that. How would you like to make some money? Can you fly?"
The half elf crosses his arms and rubs his chin. "Yes, in fact I can fly. What would yo need a pilot for?"
"A simple retrieval mission. Pick up some cargo and bring it back. You'd help around the ship and fly one of the smaller cra-"
The door to the bar flings open, nearly flying off the hinges. An angry dwarf followed by a group of men charge out of the bar.
"There he is! Get 'em!" The dwarf points at the half elf.
"Sunset tomorrow, the Graceful Gale!" The halfling shouts the half elf takes off running.
--------------------------- A few hours later --------------------------
"Ey," *hic* "yer al'ight. Ne'er knew a haf elves ta be so scrappy!" *hic*
Every seat at the bar was taken, dwarf sitting next to man, sitting next to half elf. Each had a few empty mugs and a few full ones sitting in front of them. Shot glasses line the length of the bar.
The half elf pats the man on the back. "Aww, yer jus' sayin that! You ain't so bad," *hic* "yerself!" Wobbily the half elf stands up from his barstool and takes a look around the room with glassy eyes. The men and the dwarves are busy laughing and trading war stories. A silly grin plants itself on the half elf's face as he walks out the door quietly.
"Those fellas'll be right pissed when they realize I lef them with the tab... Wha' was the name of tha ship? The Greatful Male? No, no... The Graceful Snail!" *hic* "Now wherez'a hangar at?"
The half elf stumbles down the street towards what he believes is a hangar, the sun starting to peek over the city walls. He hears a large crash a few streets over and what sounds like men shouting.
"Poor fella..."
-
"HAH! I told you I could do it, owe up!" Alfons holds his hand out to the other boy who was with him, both surrounded by several people whom seemed to be taking much interest in what he was doing
"Yes yes, you took it apart and put it back together in less than a minute" He motioned to Alfons' perfectly crafted wheel lock pistol. "But it has to fire!"
The crowed starts to cry out "It has to fire!" "Fire it off!" "I bet it doesn't work!" Alfons grins and hold the pistol up in the air.
"I am the best mechanic in all of mistvald. I graduated from the academy before people my age are allowed in." He pulled the trigger and a shot fired into the air. The mechanisms worked flawlessly and the gun looked amazing. The boy who had challenged him whistled between his teeth as some of the people flinched.
"Boy, that was worth it" he hands Alfons a coin "You really are the best! I hear there is some guy lookin for a crew, you could get hired on one of those fancy aero ships"
Alfons put his one hand on his hip, Putting the wheel lock pistol in the holster with other "Sure sure, another half bit captain looking to get his start in the aero plane business. I could put myself up for bid and become the wealthiest engineer this city has ever seen, why would I want to be with some half lout?"
The other boy shrugged "I just heard it, that's all. Have a good day Alfons, good luck with your projects!"
The crowd started to disperse. Alfons put on his dark brown coat, settled his hat, and buckled on his rapier. He looked fancy with it and it was fun to wear it. He supposed he could see what this captain was about and what was being paid and all that, though he knew he could pretty much have whatever he wanted. He was, after all, the most brilliant engineer to date in mistvald.
Alfons started walking down the street. He often did this, wandering around the city, just looking at things and meeting people. He liked to study architecture and the structures everywhere. He wandered down a cobbled street as he suddenly heard a ruckus and a giant thing made out of metal tumbled in a giant crash into the street in front of the 16 year old boy.
“What the-?” he had time to get out before he saw the thugs and what they were going after.
“What’s going on here!” Alfons shouts as the cloud of splinters and dust settles. His right hand shoots to his pistol grip and he looks at the man raising the cudgel “What are you doing?!” He demands, having no idea what to do in this situation… but he was just kind of thrown into it as it were. The armored person seemed to be trying to get to his feet.
-
The cudgel descends, smashing hard onto the construct's head - it gives a loud bang, but rebounds off, leaving only a small dent. The construct roars in pain. Looking up, it spots Alfons standing nearby, taken aback by the events.
Words seems to click together inside the construct's mind, and it speaks in a hollow voice: "Help... me!"
The thug prepares for another strike as the construct tries to shield itself with its massive forearm, while a second jams a knife between some of the construct's plates - though to his surprise, this has little effect.
The three other thugs have noticed Alfon's intrustion, and turn to face him. They finger their weapons, but a look of worry flashes across their faces - this is not how they had imagined this situation, and they didn't want it spiralling out of control. The bravest of the three steps forward, menacingly dangling his cudgel from his hand.
"Pike off, lout, and pretend you didn't see anything! This has nothing to do with you!"
-
The Graceful Gale...
Nonsense. Prepostrous. No machine could ever be as graceful as the work of Mother Nature.
And really, why do cities need light this bright!?! It seriously hurts the eyes.
Serassey walked along the cobbled streets, grumbling and complaining to himself about the state the world was in. A few hours back, he had come out of 'The Quandary'. He had heard that it was one of those places where the many races congregate and socialise, although after being there for just barely an hour, he could not see anything special about it and had decided to left.
But the stay had been quite informative. Apparentely, the non-elves preferred drinks that almost made one puke and smoked things that elves never even knew existed.
Like that girl that came in, the one with the goggles.
It both amused and shocked him that a female would ever attempt to pass off for a male... at least, that's what he thought she was doing, with that overgrown coat that she had...
But a halfling, the same one that had approached him earlier on and asked him whether he was 'interested in a job' (to which he had promptly replied that he had no interest in whatever he was selling), had decided to approach her and actually lit that rolled paper up such that smoke was emitted. Intriguing... and smelly.
As halfling and woman had talked on, Serassey had strained his ears and picked up on their conversation. By the end of it, he had a new piece of information, the location of an aero by name of The Graceful Gale. Hmm... perhaps he would visit this aero and inspect one of those machines that he had seen flying in the air back at home more closely later on.
Time had passed since then, and he now found himself walking along one of the quieter streets. There was a calm in the atmosphere that reminded him of--
--"Stop him!"
Serassey flinched at the sudden noise, annoyed that his reverie had been broken even before it had started. Deciding that he would find the source of the commotion, he followed the source around a few corners and turned a sharp bend... before quickly retreating into the shadows as he peeked out.
Ahead, he saw a huge construct falling over and hitting the ground with a loud crash, with four men closing the distance, a particular one holding a cudgel, preparing to strike.
'Good. Destroy that monstrosity. Things like that shouldn't be allowed to exist.' He thought to himself as the cudgel was raised.
Then a cry. "What's going on here!"... and...
A reply. "Help... me!"
Serassey shuddered and stepped back. It could talk!?! Soon, machines would be able to take over the world!
"Pike off, lout, and pretend you didn't see anything! This has nothing to do with you!"
Serassey jumped, thinking that it was directed to him, before realising that it was actually a warning to the young boy who had shouted. Still hidden in the shadows, Serassey considered just walking off and making his way to the aero. Besides, this had nothing to do with him. Yet his instincts were telling him to wait, and he knew why. The boy. The construct he could leave, but with the boy's involvement, there was life at stake. He couldn't see what the boy's right hand was doing, his line of sight blocked by the mess of machine and man, but he was sure the boy was probably shaking in fright right about now.
Rule 1 of the code: Life is sacred, protect all that you can.
To protect him, those four men would need to suffer... but there was nothing about suffering in the code. Besides, no pain no gain.
Ensuring that his hair was still tied up, he ducked down and reached out to his right boot, gripping on his flintlock pistol. He had left his bow back at his new home so as to draw less attention to himself. All the better, it would give him a chance to test out this new-fangled contraption of a slingshot.
-
Alfons pulled out his wheel lock pistol with one hand, rapier in the other. He pointed the rapier at the man. Alfons’ was 16, he was at that stage in life where he felt he could do anything, was always right, and was nearly invincible.
“Pike off? Why don’t you get out of here while you have a chance.” He said, taking up fencing stance. He had been shown a little of fencing by his father. He was by no means an expert, but perhaps he could take on a man with a cudgel. He held his Whee lock up, with the rapier pointed at the man, and stepped forward a few keeping the sword pointing out to force the man with a cudgel back.
At the last moment, Alfons would thrust with his sword. He knew any experienced swordsman would likely defeat him, but the man with a cudgel was a thug. The man would be forced back as Alfons came to stand between the men and the giant… thing made of metal
“Go now, run back before things get ugly!” Alfons shouted at the men. Thoughts raced through his mind. What if they fought back? What was he going to do? He /might/ be able to take one, but not all at once… this was going to be an interesting day for Alfons’.
-
Darterity stumbles around the corner. All the commotion got his drunken attention. Wobbily, he surveys the scene. Some kid was standing up against a group of dirty thugs. A fool in way too much armor was lying on the ground frightened as a baby. Never a dull day.
The thugs notice Darerity standing there and start pointing. He could turn tail and leave the kid and the fool to their fate, or he could intervene and maybe eke out some sort of reward for helping them out.
His shallow pockets made his decision. Opening his arms and raising them in the air, Darterity approaches the group with a silly grin.
"Gentlemen! What brings ye out on such a fine evenin'? I see you've met my brother there, rolling around on the ground. He's a might peculiar. Takes to putting on every piece of scrap he can find and likens it to being some kind of knight or sumfin. A bit touched in the head, that..."
Darterity quickly eyes up the boy with his weapons raised. The thugs grumble to themselves, noticing the cut of Darterity's armor, and the scimitar and flintlock at his hip. Raising an eyebrow slightly at the boy, Darterity continues.
"This 'eres my brother's ol'l pal. Always quick to draw as long as I've known 'im. Whatever wrong's been done I'm sure it ain't worth a tussle in the streets..." Darterity grips the hilt of his scimitar. "'Specially after drawing so much attention to yourselves."
He continues grinning at the thugs. The cudgel is lowered as the lead is caught up in Darterity's speech. Glancing back at the others, he catches shakes of the head an frustrated grumbles.
"You didn't see nothin, and tell that simpleton he didn't hear nothin neither. Yer lucky yer brother's friend 'ere came by, son."
The thug spits on the ground as the others turn back down the alley, walking rather quickly. With a nod to Darterity, he also turns and leaves.
Darterity releases his grip on his scimitar and sighs. A burg gurgles out of his mouth at the end of the sigh. He saunters over to the kid and the guy in the armor, shaking his head.
"Buncha lowlifes, they usually turn tail and run when they're out in the open. I wouldn't go prancing down any dark alleys for a while if I were you, though." He says, as he extends a hand down to the guy in the armo- Wait that wasn't any suit of armor!
Lowering his voice, he says, "My friend, I'm not sure if you realize this, but you're missing your skin under all that metal... What sort of machine is this?" He asks the boy.
-
Having drawn such a sizeable crowd, the thugs realize that any further attempt to hide their misdeeds is pointless. With surprising speed, they have tucked away most of their weapons and have started to saunter off in a nonchalant fashion. One spits on the ground in front of Alfons as they depart, but in moments, they are gone.
The construct lowers its arm fearfully to see Darterity looking down at him. The man is clearly surprised at his appearance, but makes no hostile moves. Quiety, he speaks.
"Thank... you."
A jet of steam escaping from his thigh joints, the construct heaves itself back onto its feet, towering over both Alfons and Darterity and looking curiously down at its rescuers. It overhears Darterity questioning Alfons.
"Machine...?" it asks itself.
-
Alfons suddenly feels a little embarrassed about holding his weapons out and quickly puts them away. He looks to the new man who had arrived with a mix of relief and curiosity.
"Thanks" He said, before he glares at the man who had spit at his feet. After a moment he kneels down next to what looked like a giant suit of armor.
"Huh... I've never seen anything like this before..." He would lean down to put his hand on one of clang's elbow joins, inspecting it, then moving around, looking at the metal plating, its materials trying to puzzle out how it appeared to be made and how it was moving and speaking on its own.
"Not... a person" He said astonished "Seems to be made out of mostly Iron, with some bronze and copper in there...." he said while inspecting. "Steam is escaping..." He would say as a jet of stream shoots from clang's thigh joint "So there must by some sort of furnace in there, to produce the steam, which means coal is necessary to keep this thing running.... " He frowns a bit as he touches a spot of rust "And has been exposed to elements for some time. It's hard to say, considering the amount of corrosion."
For a young kid, he was pretty knowledgeable. You would hear his name mentioned 'Alfons Jensen' by the crowed several times and if you had been in the city any length of time or long enough to listen even, he was heralded as the most brilliant engineer in the city.
"I have no idea whats producing the ability to speak though.... and think. That is impressive... That can't be done by steam-work... but I cannot think of what it might be." Alfons looked around at the crowed
"Perhaps we should move out of the streets"
As he would stand he would look to the construct "Do you have a name?" he asked curiously, wondering if perhaps the intelligence had been a fluke or something similar.
-
The construct watches slightly apprehensively as Alfons pokes and proddes at his joints. However, this man had come ot his aid, and was not yelling or trying to shoot him. Then, however, comes the question.
"Do you have a name?"
The construct's thoughts begin to whirr. A name? It racked the dark, empty void of its memories for what its name might once have been, yet finds nothing.
Slowly, the construct begins to shake its head, but then stops. It remembers the hastily shouted words of the thugs it had first encountered.
What was that loud clang?!
It could not go on nameless. This would do.
It looks down at Alfons solemnly.
"Clang. My name... is Clang."
-
Darterity takes a wobbly step back when the... thing stands up.
“Clang. My name... is Clang.”
“Clang it is then,” Darterity says, still a bit in shock.
Turning to the kid, Darterity nods. “Yes, I think we've hung around here long enough. This thi- er... Clang... would fit in around the hangar, what with all the spare parts lying around. Besides, I was on my way there before running into you lot. And hey, what's your name, kid?”
-
Late afternoon - Near Sunset
The sky was still bright and, despite being pointed in the direction of the hanger, Linden was hesitant about arriving at the Graceful Gale ahead of time. She found the shade of some scaffolding and stared hard at the building that housed the aero. Her keen brown eyes watched for a long while as workers passed it by and no one seemed to stir from within.
Her mouth worked at chewing on the inside of her lower lip as she thought about the predicament she was about to immerse herself in. The little man hadn't seemed concerned whether she'd show or not. He could replace her with another random pilot, possibly one that wasn't as instinctive as her, but it didn't matter. Hired help was expendable.
She'd made the mistake of being openly vulnerable, yet again. Poverty had brought her low and she had assumed that no opportunities would arise. How stupid of her to admit she was so desperate!
Giving a huffed out sigh, she looked down at her boots and let go of the disgust with a roll of her shoulders. If she saw a new aeroplane out of the ordeal, it'd be worth it. Hell, she'd at least get some much needed experience.
Heaving her backpack back up onto her shoulders, she pressed on to the hanger. Her rosy face was scrunched against the heat of the sun and her mouth was set in a line. As she entered the side door of the hanger, her face slacked in appreciation of the cooled interior.
Her eyes went up to the aero that nearly overtook its shelter. As her chin tilted back to include the sparrows and all else, her mouth fell open and she tucked her thumbs into the straps of her pack. It seemed an eternity that she admired the aged, yet impressive, vessel...
-
'My name is clang' The construct replied.
Huh... the intelligence didn't seem to be a fluke, but he had no idea where it came from.
"Clang eh? Alright Clang. Come along with us, I want to figure out how you work. Perhaps we can look into getting you fixed up, your kindy rusty" Alfons mentioned. He sounded almost excited at the prospect.
He looked to Darterity with a bit of suprise.
"You havent heard of me? I am Alfon's Jensen, engineer Genius" He said proudly. "Graduated from the acadamy 6 years ago, at 10. Thats 8 years before anyone is allowed to be admitted to the acadamy." You could tell he had a bit of an ego, but it wasnt as bad as it could have been.
"Yeah, lets get off these streets."
-
Alfons and... what was that? Clam? Clan? Serassey's ears were not attuned to picking up the sound made by machines, himself having grown up around the trees.
The thugs were gone now; they had taken a different route. Serassey had not caught the name of the drunk half-elve.
He shivered. Half-elve mutants.
But it was enough for now. He would return home and grab his bow before making his way to the hanger.
-----
Just before sunset, fully geared up with his trusty bow and arrows, Serassey made his way to the hanger after asking for directions.
That had been an experience in itself. Some of the citizens had simply pointed in a general direction with a quick 'that way', while others simply eyed him and laughed before walking off. If it were him, he'd ensure that fully accurate and precise directions were given... while holding back his laughter if there was anything on his face (he had checked right afterwards, but could see nothing wrong that would cause such laughing).
But he was lucky. He had run into Grum, the halfling that he had met earlier on in the 'gathering room' as Serassey now named it. Running up and tapping him on the shoulder, he had thrown his question:
"Excuse me, erm... Grum, was it? I'm looking for the Aerodrome."
Eyeing him suspciously, Grum had replied, while rubbing his chin. "Have we met before? You look strangely familiar... Either way, what would an elve want in the Aerodrome?"
"I simply wish to see an Aero, like the many I have seen back at home."
"Do you... want to see how it works?"
Serassey paused. Did he? The thought of being swallowed up by something that big...
"I don't know. Do I have to swim inside it?"
Grum had burst into laughter then. "No, no nothing like that. More of an overall picture. How about you I give you a job on--?"
"I'm not interested in whatever you're selling." Was the automatic response.
"I've heard your voice somewhere... Mmm... I think you misunderstand me. I'm selling you opporunity."
"I have none of what you people call 'coin'. I cannot pay. Therefore, I am not interested."
Laughter again. "You're a funny one! This is for free. You come with me to the Aero, you'll learn many things that the rest of your kind have not. The machines really aren't that bad you know." Grum flashed a toothy smile at the end of the sentence.
"Alright. I'll do it."
"Excellent. The Aero's name is--"
"The Graceful Gale. I know. But I need to know, how will we hunt in the air when there's no food? What about drink? Hygiene..."
"Now now, slow down there. You want to learn things, you've got to do it firsthand. Everything will be taken care of." Grum pat Serassey on the back, or tried to. He simply succeeded in whacking his butt.
"Alright, I'll do it."
With directions given, Grum had walked off cheerfully, whistling some tune. Serassey had caught words like 'free' and 'cheap'. He scratched his head. What was that supposed to mean?
Regardless, he eventually arrived in the hanger and to The Graceful Gale.
Serassey gawked, nearly expelling his tea. This was an Aero? Up close it looked so much more intimidating than it appeared to be.
Nevertheless, he sat down on a ledge nearby, waiting for the halfling and any others that were to come.
-
"I'm not from around these parts, Alphons. And this academy is sounds like a pretty big deal, if yer into that kinda thing."
Darterity turns to Clang, "Whatever you are, you should probably stick around with us for the moment. Let's roll."
The recent events did wonders for Darterity's drunkenness. The near miss of a scuffle cleared his head a bit. Although now early traces of a hangover were looming over him. He waves everyone along as he starts walking towards the hangar. A great deal less wobbly than before...
-
Linden's awe finally dwindled and she went to scouting the hanger for a sign of life. She ducked under some rigging and a rickety set of mobile stairs as she first searched the ground-level space around the huge aero. As she finally turned one last corner, she began to call out.
"Hello?" her question bounced emptily around the large building. "Anyone there?"
Her eyes caught sight of a slim figure waiting silently upon a ledge. She noticed his unique features first; bound snowy hair that did not seem due to human aging, very pale skin for one dressed in clothing meant for travel, and a height that would have towered above her had he been standing. If he were one of the aero's crew, she thought he must be an officer with this appearance she deemed quite imposing. Yet, there, when he turned his head, she saw the point of an ear. An elf?
Swallowing her agitation, she wiped the perspiration from her right palm along the side of her longcoat and stepped forward, "Good evening."
She then extended the same hand to Serassey, "How do you do? I'm Linden Vireo."
Her long face pulled tight with an attempt at a calm smile. Within her mind, she went over all the facts she knew of elves and strained to remember if she'd ever met one before. Failing to obtain anything pertinent, her eyes briefly dodged to the left and then back to the elf as she continued to reach forward to grasp his hand in greeting.
-
Clang listens to the invitations of Alfons and Darterity to join them. He had nowhere else to go, knew nothing else of the world. These two had put themselves at risk to save him. Was there even a choice here?
"Yes..." Clang replied, and nodded.
Limping slightly, with noisy, heavy footsteps and the occasional gust of steam, Clang falls in line behind the other two as they make their way to the aerodome. Clang had no idea what was to be in store for him, but it had to be better than the place he came from.
-
Felix would move beside clang, inspecting him every time steam shot out from a joint. He didn't stop them, just moved along. He wondered where clang had come from, and where the voice was coming from and a thousand other questions, but there would be time for that later. He suddenly realized he didn't know their third companions name.
"So, what's your name?" Alfons asked dar, wondering where he had come from as well. He had been impresses by the way the half elve had thought on his feet like that, to prevent violent.
-
Darterity turns to Alfons, rubbing his head.
"Darterity is my name. I was... employed in a large aero just a few days past. Unfortunately luck was working against us and the aero crashed. I don't know what happened to my crew mates, but I ended up kicking dust all the way here."
He kicks a loose stone as he walks down the street. Obviously a little upset about recent events.
"This little halfling offered me a job, straight contract work he said. A legit gig might do me some good... Supposed to meet him at the hangar before sunset today."
Darterity chuckles to himself, "I sure hope they packed enough booze..."
-
Serassey, while sitting on the ledge, had fallen into a particular trance. If one could have seen him then, it was entirely possible that they would've thought he was a statue save for the gentle heaving of his chest. In his gentle calm, he was remembering the important events in his life. The latest event most dear to him...
..."Hello? Anyone there?"
He felt as if he had been pulled as if by some tight rope. People and their shouting, people and their shouting... Elves just need to talk quitely and gently. His ears would ring for a while... A little annoyed, he looked around for the source of the female voice, but did not think the effort to search was worth it.
From the corner, he heard footsteps, and turned his head around.
Serassey simply watched quietly as she wiped her hand on her longcoat as she greeted him with a simple "Good evening". A longcoat? He frowned and cocked his head slightly to a side, trying to remember whether he had met her before... No. He couldn't remember right now.
She stuck her hand out, introducing herself as "Linden Vireo".
A wonderful name, he thought. Rolls off the tongue.
But he showed no signs of this as he simply stared at her. He noticed her attempted smile, eyes dodging to the left for a second. He smiled. Even surrounded by technology, miles away from any game animal, the Great Mother still had her ways to remind him that she was everywhere...
...Like right now. He didn't know what she was so nervous about, but he took her hand and firmly shook it. "Serassey. Just Serassey. I am doing great, thank you for your concern. I assume you're doing fine too?" He paused. Was that how humans greeted each other? He smiled visibly, both to himself and to her.
"I am looking for the owner of this... Aero." He looks towards the ship. "I have just arrived in this erm..." He struggled to recall the term he had heard. "...Aerodrome. So I apologise, I cannot give you directions as I do not know the way."
He didn't like to refuse people like this, but if he didn't know directions, he just didn't know them. They'd just have to go to someone else to ask.
-
Linden smiled more easily at the strength of the handshake and returned it sturdily. She hadn't offended him it seemed. Good. By the sun, she couldn't remember anyone ever talking about meeting an elf...if that's what he was.
"I've been...," she almost ended with 'better' and seamlessly threw in more optimistic words, which at one time had been true. "...very well. Serassey, was it? Well met."
Her brows rose as he continued, "Oh, I'm actually looking for the same person. This is the Graceful Gale, correct?"
The backpack on her shoulders slid down her arms and landed with thunk on the bench behind her. She shimmied out of the longcoat and draped it over the pack behind her. Giving a sidelong glance, she smiled wryly.
"The little fellow recruited you too?"
She pressed her palm down into the air at her side to emphasize her words. The heels of her hands went to her lower back then as she lifted her face again to the aero. Bending forward a bit to stretch the muscles of her back, she tilted her head and eyed the aeroplanes at the top.
"What's your post aboard 'er?"
-
Little Creature? Oh! She meant the halfling.
"Oh yea, yea he did. and erm... my post... I'm... I'm not sure." He frowned. Was he supposed to have a post?
"What's your post aboard the ship then? I have just arrived in the city, so I have no idea what your human ways of doing things is."
He could see no one else around him, and he looked at her as she gazed at the 'aeros', smiling. Serassey noticed he was going a bit stiff and loosened up, his arms still kept by his side and pressed on the ledge, but now swinging his legs slightly.
"How long does it take to build one?" He asks, pointing to the aero she was looking at
-
Linden turned a curious expression to him, but did not comment further on Serassey's lack of information about the Graceful Gale. Grumbald hadn't been particularly forthcoming with detailed instructions, though she had also not asked. She casually gestured towards the small aeroplanes aboard the aero.
"I'm a pilot by profession, so I assume I'll be doing what I know best," she tapped the flight cap and goggles atop her head. "'S'pose we'll find out soon."
As he asked the next question, she brought the same hand down and fidgeted with the fringe of hair that poked out from beneath the cap against the back of her neck. She breathed in and made a thoughtful sound as she exhaled. Her mouth quirked to one side and finally she answered.
"I guess it depends, but I've seen a ship nearly completed in a month. The purpose of the ship and the richness of the owner are two other very important factors. And a safe vessel...well, everyone has their own version of safe," she smirked drolly and then turned her gaze back to the aero in front of them.
She crossed her arms as she spoke again, "So, you've never flown before?"
-
"Huh... I heard about that. Had considered going to check it out myself. Why don't we three go check it out?"
He headed in the direction that he recalled hearing the hanger was in. He would move with clang, making sure.... he didn't fall apart or something.
"Your Aero Crashed?" He asked as they neared the hanger. They caused a little ruckus as they approached, but once they saw alfons, they probably thought it was one of his projects and decided to leave them alone.
"What happened?" He asked, as they entered the hanger.
-
Darterity was beginning to look pale by the time they arrive at the hangar. With a hand continuously rubbing his head he shrugs at Alfons.
"Ran into the wrong aero. A rival captain had it out for us. I was shot down in a dogfight and crash landed. Somewhow I loved through it... As I was crawling out of the wreckage I saw the main pira- er... Ahem! The main ship was billowing smoke and lumbering towards a mountain. It went over a hill and I didn't see what exactly happened. But the loud explosion a few minutes later gave me a good idea."
He grins through clenched teeth, his headache getting worse. "Not a word about this to the caption of the Gale. I'm not sure how he would cater to folks in my old line of work." He says with a weary wink.
"Looks like we're here!"
The group stands in front of the Graceful Gale. Darterity sits on a nearby barrel and hangs his head. "Anyone have any water?"
-
Clang tromps along behind Alfons and Darterity. At times, Alfons glances over at him, an expression of both intrigue and worry on his face, but the construct doesn't speak any further. He is too preoccupied with glancing around at his surroundings - now that he isn't being chased or running in fear, he realizes just how vast this... city was. And everywhere there were voices, and people looking at him. He ducked his head - for what little good it did him - and kept closer to his two companions.
Eventually, Darterity and Alfons stop, having arrived inside a cavernous building. Above them hovers a giant contraption. Clang looks up at it in wonderment.
"It floats..." he remarks with quiet awe.
-
Serassey shrugs at Linden's question. "We Elves fly with gliders. It's a lot more simple than these Aeros." He sniffs the air. "Also a lot less metallic. But I digress. I guess I have flown before, just in a manner that differs from your kind." He smiles at a thought "I think I once managed to stay afloat for two whole hours. But that was when I was younger."
He considers her previous statement. "So what do you consider safe then?" He looks at the Aero again, eyes full of wonder. "What can possibly take down such a big metal container?"
Suddenly, loud clanking footsteps alerted him and again rang in his ears.
-
The first few words of Linden's answer trailed off as she also heard the loud metallic sounds coming from beyond their line of sight. She turned and scooped up her belongings. As she shouldered her pack and flipped the longcoat over her shoulder, she turned a hopeful expression to Serassey.
"Perhaps that's one of the crew now. I'll go check on it."
As she rounded the obstacles that blocked her view, she stopped short and blinked with some surprise at the group she saw. Her mouth parted in her amazement as she stared dumbly at them. It could be seen that her wide eyes were particularly on Clang.
"Oh...Good Evening," she greeted uncertainly as she regained her composure a bit.
-
The sound a human voice brought Clang back to the present. Slowly, he lowers his head, the pale blue lights in his eye-sockets settling on the woman before them. She was dressed somewhat strangely compared to the others he had met so far... but then, who was he to judge what was strange around here?
Clang pauses for a moment, thinking about how to reply to this question, but then comes to the faint realization that what the woman had said was actually a greeting. The way she seemed to be staring at him made him feel uncomfortable - he needed to say something.
His mind working hard to formulate an appropriate reply, he bends down slightly to respond.
"Yes. Good evening... and hello."
-
Darterity lifts his head as a woman rounds the corner and stares at the group. He looks back and forth between her and Clang a few times. With a devilish grin he hops up and makes a flourish with his hat as he bows. At the bottom of the bow his mouth fills up and his cheeks puff out. He raises a finger in front of him, signalling for a moments time. On shaky legs he disappears behind a large pile of parts. You can hear him emptying his stomach on the ground, followed by gasping for breath, moaning, and a few indecipherable curses in elvish.
The commotion stops and he walks out from behind the pile of parts. Leaning heavily on the barrel he nods at the woman.
"Yeah, hi." He squints as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "You part of the crew here?"
-
Linden felt herself beginning to lean away from the metallic suit of armor, weight rocking back onto her heels. She abruptly snapped her mouth closed and blinked twice. The smile she tried to flash was more of a twitch of the corners of her mouth. Her chin dipped in a nod to Clang's returned greeting.
She switched her attention to Clang's companion as he stepped forward and bowed. His charming display was suddenly interrupted before he could even speak and she blanched as she heard the retching taking place behind the pile of parts. In her mind she convinced her suddenly nauseated belly that there was no need to follow suit. Luckily, Darterity returned rather quickly and, despite still looking ill, he distracted her queasiness with a question.
"I-I think so. I'm new to this aero," she briefly twisted around to look behind her in the hopes that Serassey was approaching. "Me and another were just waiting out the sunset to speak with those in charge about all that."
Her finger pointed towards where she had come from as she mentioned waiting. As she turned back to the three, her lips twitched again in that attempted smile. The pointed finger slowly retracted and she shifted the backpack on her shoulder.
"Name's Linden Vireo," she re-thought extending a hand to shake and opted with an accomplished smile that still lacked some security. "Uh, well met."
She looked between Alfons, Clang and Darterity, "You're also crew, I assume?"
Silently, she thought over the appearance of the younger man. Had she seen him before in the city. He certainly looked familiar. She had never been very good with fitting names to faces. Before her thoughts could reflect through a gaze that lingered too long, she busied herself with removing her flight cap and taming strands of auburn hair with her palm as she listened to whatever reply they might give.
-
"Has anyone come?" Grumbald questioned to Lark. Lark pulled open a small curtain from the port hole of the cabin and peered out into the fading afternoon light to investigate.
"A handful, it seems. Might be enough. I'd hoped for more, but I expected less than this. You must of told them a good yarn to get this many to come." Lark said as he scratched his stubbled chin.
"Yeah, surprisingly there's great many folk in the Misthaves with just as bad luck us we." Grumbald stated although not liking the reaction he got from Lark who had enough with luck.
"Speaking of luck. What the steam valve is the contraption there? It's a metallic abomination. What is it? It must weigh a ton. Surely you didn't invite that behemoth to join the crew. Did you?"
"Awww. Well you see. Umm. What contraption?" Lark moved from the porthole window and Grubald climbed onto a cracker box to peer outside at the gaggle of visitors. "I don't know. I didn't invite that thing but were scraping the bottom of the barrel as it is might have to give it a chance." Grumbald stuttered trying to reassure Lark although thoroughly confused at the metallic creatures appearance.
"This is an aeroship mission not a horse pull race. Maybe we can use it as some kind of air anchor. Anyway, hopefully one of those chaps out there is a good wrencher. When you were out I inspected the ship and we have serious problems. One of the larboard and two port props of the main steam-driver are down. Our aero can fly but only straight up and at quarter speed. The rutter doesn't seem to be responding either so we can pretty much fly in a straight line. If we can't get any of that fixed you might as well say were dead in the water." Lark sighed and continued, "We may have an even bigger problem too."
"Aye? what kind of problem?" Grumbald asked, starting to feel there were too many problems already.
"Well an evaporation return line for one of boiler condensers burst." Lark said as he started pacing the interior of the cabin.
At this Grumbald felt relieved. A simple condenser line, surely that was the least of their worries. "Well that's not all that bad I could have it fixed in no time. Doesn't take a wrencher to fix a simple fluid return line."
"Don't bother, I already did. The problems not the line it's where the line blew out. It ruptured and flooded the aft powder hold. All the Cyl rounds and all of the shot is ruined. Going to Pion is a fools idea, going to Pion without any firing guns is suicidal." Lark said as he made his way down from the forward cabin aftward to show Grumbald the damages.
"Aye, that it is. This isn't lookin good Lar." Grumbald said as he followed Lark out of the forward cabin.
"I've been thinking of ideas of how we can get some powder but it's not looking very good. An if I told you my idea you'd probably have to change your breeches." Lark said with a smirk as he worked his way through the crew quarters and then into the gun deck were the cannonades were positioned although many of the cannons were too dirty or poorly maintained to fire or were missing from their gun swivels entirely.
"Well at this stage with only a night or two left, we need to come up with something." Grumbald pleaded, "No matter how insane it maybe."
"Well Grum, what I have in mind my be a tad beyond insane." Lark said with a sinister smile that seemed to give a maniacal look about himself.
"Lar, we've been fly'n and fight'n for years together. I think I've seen just about everything there is to see and I know ya can do anything no matter how insane it maybe." he assured lark.
"Grum, I was given word that Tellos Stormslade is throwin his crew a big party tonight at the Quandary for bagging a trophy pirate ship on the inland sea." before Lark could continue Grumbald's expression had changed from assuring, to surprised, finally to completely shocked and Lark couldn't help but give it a second to set in. He looked at Grumbald who was so aghast with the mention of Tellos that he couldn't reply and lark finally decided to continue with his idea. "I say we see which of these recruits is worthy to be an aero and we sneak onto Tellos' privateer ship and raid his powder keg."
For about a minute Grumbald stood speechless and frozen in such a stark shock. He couldn't fathom what he had just heard. It was as if what he was telling him was the absolute opposite of anything sensible or within reason. He was only broken from his statuesque trance because Lark refused to stop and continued marching through the ship now into the main hold where crates and barrels of materiel were strapped to the plank decking.
Grumbald finally caught up to Lark who had gravitated to the corner of the hold to stand next to several rectangular crates. "Lar... Are you serious? Perhaps you've been in the sun too long. You can't be serious. Tellos wants your head on a spit and now you mean to simply sneak into his lap and give it to him. Surely?" Grumbald questioned.
"Precisely why we should sneak on his ship. It's the last thing he'd expect. Besides it's a privateer ship it's bristling with guns they have more powder than we'd ever need on it." Lark said still holding his sinister grin, which started to make Grumbald think that it might soon embed itself in Lark's gristled face.
"But Tellos' ship? Why not another ship? Surely one with a crew not seeking already to kill us on sight." Grumbald asked watching curiously as Lark picked up a crowbar and began to shim away at one of rectangular crates.
"Grum, you see Tellos' ship has something on it we needed to begin with." Lark said as the top plank of boards splintered and fell away from the crate revealing it's contents. "It has the only shot and magazines for these." Lark said his pupils dilating as he stared down into the deep crate with a look of selfish bliss. Grumbald edged across to room to stand on his toes to peer down into the crates to see the most ornate weapons he'd ever seen. Grumbald was awed and now fully understood why Tellos so badly wanted to kill Lark. The weapons were exquisite and inlaid with hand carved golden details. Barrels of silver coated steel with the muzzle of each piercing the mouth of a roaring golden lion. The hand cranked wheel lock mechanism was of finely engraved silver and a wooden handle of mahogany. Grumbald knew that a simple half turn of this decorative handle and the depressing of a golden trigger would turn these works of art into whirling devices of death and destruction. Cylinder guns and not just any Cyl gun; these were the finest crafted guns in the five realms. The rifling would be precisely cut deep into each steel barrel allowing lead shot to expand and spiral out to reach any foe who so unluckily happened to fall within the weapon's sights.
"Lar," is all Grumbald could seem to say before Lark placed the cover back on top of the crate repackaging the cylinder guns.
"Then you agree? We go tonight then. The ship will be lightly defended probably a drunk deckhand or two we'll sneak aboard grab the rounds for the cylinder guns and kegs of powder. We'll leave for Keln in the morning as long as we can get the rutter working we can fix the broken props in flight." Lark slapped his hands together and wiped the dust and packaging grease off onto his uniform jacket. "Now lets go meet this crew of ours."
"Lar." Grumbald mouthed but nothing came out as he continued to stare at the recovered crate as Lark made his way through the hold to the main deck. Grumbald could faintly hear the footsteps on the planking as Lark descended to the lower gun deck and barely heard Lark ashe climbed down the landing struts to the assembled crew below.
-
"I'm as much crew as you are. Not sure about the other two. The big thing over there, Clang he calls himself, was in a bit of a tussle on the streets. Alfons," he points over to him as he says his name, "and I jumped in to help the poor fella out. Not sure what we're going to do with him. He's as dumb as he is heavy, that one..."
Darterity straightens and lets go of the barrel. It seems that he is feeling better after relieving his stomache of all that alcohol. He adjusts the belt on his hips and straightens his weapons before sauntering over closer to Linden, beaming with a smile.
"You look like a pilot, Linden. Good to see that I won't be the only one zipping around in one of those sparrows. Dogfights end pretty quick when you're the only dog on your side..."
He is standing closer to Linden now, and is scanning behind her for the other fellow she mentioned.
"So where is the other-" He sees Serassey perched on a ledge and his smile quickly fades. "Oh... An elf..."
-
Nodding as Darterity introduced his companions, Linden inclined her head to Alfons and Clang respectively. Her gaze was drawn back to the approaching man, who had not introduced himself yet as far as she could remember. Her brows went up as he commented on her being a pilot and she opened her mouth to confirm his observation, but closed it again as he continued.
Instead, she shook her head in agreement with his words. As he moved closer, she found herself smiling more genuinely in response to his own smile. Distracted by his friendly words and his appealing visage, she hardly realized he stood so near until his pleased expression faded.
"Aye, that's Serassey," she turned and took a step to one side, clearing her throat a bit. "He's about as informed as the rest of us. We were just saying so when you all arrived."
She briefly looked back at Darterity and then up towards the aero, "The sun is setting so I imagine we will know soon."
-
Clang, not really knowing how to answer Linden's question, instead turns to see if Darterity can provide an answer for him. Unfortunately, Darterity's response does not clear up any questions. The remark on Clang's intelligence causes him to look down about as sadly as an expressionless construct can.
"I will... learn..." he quietly mumbles to himself.
The conversation continues, and both participants look over to a slim-bodied figure sitting nearby. Clang's gaze follows their gaze, quietly observing the man and waiting to see if he will introduce himself.
-
"Hello everyone" Alfons said, looking over the small crowed.
"You are pilots? Well, Lets hope they give you something decent to fly, though I can fix just about anything" he chuckled. The boy looked to be in his mid teens if anything.
His eyes were drawn to the approaching people, and he turns to face them, standing next to clang.
-
Serassey pushes himself gracefully off the ledge and walks towards the new crew members. From where he had been sitting, along with his height, he couldn't get a clear view of what was going on.
The moment he does see them though, he visibly jumps back and becomes a little defensive.
It was them! The same people he had seen from the shadows. Not only that, but that... thing was with them.
"I will... learn..."
He nearly attacks it directly. That voice, so soft, but so awkward. It was as if steel was being rubbed against some uneven ground, or... well what else was there!??!
"Many greetings, everyone. I'm Serassey." He pauses. "Is that thing coming with us?"
-
"Let's see what we have here." Lark mumbled under his breath as he stepped off the landing skids onto the dusty hanger floor.
He scanned the assembled group of prospective crew members with some aprehension. These recruits weren't exactly what he was looking for. When it came to crews he was used to historically crew members were gruff and rusty looking strongbacks. Men who could lift or pull and be otherwise completely menial deckhands. These few prospects had an eclectic appearance and didn't look anything like your typical crew. Lark was trying to be optimistic but he didn't think they'd be able to leave the Aerodrome let alone make it to Keln with a crew like this. Perhaps the burning the Aero to the ground and fleeing wasn't a bad idea after all.
Lark advanced to a couple of paces of the group and struck a serious pose of authority. He wanted to make an impression. Whether it would get the results he hoped for or not was apt for speculation. Standing with a chivalric pose almost sideways facing the crew with his lamed right led bent at the knee to reduce the weight apportioned to it. His hands rested at his waist above his leather belt which harnessed a flintlock pistol of a common design. His hair was unkempt and he hadn't trimmed or maintained his sprouting goatee which was flanked by thick stubble. His physical appearance didn't add much to his proposed idea of being a commanding presence.
The double-breasted military jacket he wore didn't add much to his authoritative appearence either. One of the flaps was unbuttoned and the buttons were of various makes and a couple were missing entirely. A silver eagle medal adorned the left chest although whether this was a combat medal awarded or simply bought could not easily be deciphered. The entire jacket and trouser ensemble was torn and stained in numerous locations and some parts threatened to tear entirely. One of the shoulders had a gold pauldron adorning it although this was so grimy that it could of passed for being brown. Further more a great stain of dried blood was crusted to the right chest and collar. Lark Ornen was by far not the poster boy for any Aero Corps in the Realms this anyone could deduce within seconds of laying their eyes on him.
"I know im not what you probably were expecting for an Aero Captain," Lark began trying to keep his voice loud and smooth so as to have a commanding flair to it. "I don't think this Aero, the Graceful Gale, is what you were expecting in an Aero, either. Make no mistake we do look quaint. This is merely the ill fates of bad luck. Although I always believe luck runs like a tide. When it is bad and runs out you are left stranded on burning sands but when it comes it washes away the detritus and drags you out to the sea where any fate is possible. I must let you know that the tide has come in and my luck has finally turned." Lark stated as he looked out at the assembled members trying to gauge the reactions.
"Let me rephrase that. OUR luck has turned. You have come from many backgrounds and roads of life with dreams and plans for life only to have them all squashed before you or perhaps you just have a sense of adventure and an unquenchable thirst for the unknown. Either way you are here and you will be rewarded with the treasures that of which will outweigh any of the burdens that have led you here." Lark said as he began to pace back and forth in front of the crew gesturing as he did so to emphasize his speech.
"I can't promise that service to me will be easy or that danger won't be involved. This is Aero service and you know the risks. What I can promise is that if you come with me and do your duty to your Aero captain and crew you will be a richer man." Lark stopped realizing as he looked out at the crew there there was also a lady within there midst, "or woman..."
"You'll be fed as best as we can feed you. You'll eat as me and the first mate do. No one will suffer the depridations that other Aero crews suffer as second class to the officers. If you do your duty and serve honorably you will thus be rewarded. I can't pay anyone anything now until our mission is complete. Although pay and any type of reward will be equally divided amongst the crew when or if any is acquired." Lark emphasized the "if" just so all could hear it. He wasn't going to guarantee anything. This whole mission could be a fool's errand but only time would tell. As long as the Legislator kept Tellos and Parth off his back he could deal with these new acquantenances if the mission went sour and he had to doublecross them all if necessary.
"If you don't feel this is the right Aero for you I'm sure you could find work on one of the ships sailing the inland sea but I don't believe you'll get an opportunity like the one I'm offering." The tone of Lark's voice was very persuasive even if Lark knew that a couple other Aero captains may have similar offers for other dangerous tasks, he wanted to emphasize his mission as the most rewarding.
"Do any of you wish to not join the crew of the Graceful Gale and capture rewards greater than your heart could ever desire?" Lark said with a sinister smile and spreading his arms wide as if he were reaching to grab his own desired treasures.
-
Clang looks up and watches as a man introduces himself in as flamboyant a manner as his appearance would allow. He attentively stays quiet and listens, but barely understands what is going on. Apparently he was getting a job?
The mention of eating however does draw more of a response - Clang's massive shoulders sag slightly amidst faint hisses of steam as he seems to remember the weight of his own body.
"Hungry..." he thinks to himself.
Once Lark finishes, Clang looks left and right at the others gathered there to see if they will say anything in response. Then, he apprehensively takes the initiative and raises his huge metallic hand to draw attention to himself.
"You will... feed us?"
-
"Sounds like an adventure" Alfons brightened. He was smiling, the prospect of being on an actual aera looming over him excitedly. He put his hand on his rapier, moving into a nonchalant postion that showed off his magnificant wheel lock pistol he had built himself.
"You see, I am Alfons Jensen, the best engineer you will find in thousands of leagues in any direction. My assistant here will be coming naturally" He slapped clang on the shoulder. He really wanted to study clang and didn't plan on running off without him.. unless the construct had objections of course.
"Yes, I think I will accompany you" He smiled "My parents will be proud" He nods.
-
Alfons' hand slaps Clang somewhere near the bottom of his shoulder with a light thunk as he announces that Clang will be joining him. Clang slowly turns his head to look down at Alfons beaming next to him. Surprise is replaced with feelings of immense relief... he was no longer alone in the world.
Quietly, in his halting, hollow voice, he speaks to Alfons alone:
"I will be... glad... to assist you"
-
Darterity turns his attention away from the Elf. Thankfully his half-kin was focused on Clang rather than himself. He has always found interactions with Elves to be strained, at best.
Then the captain of the aero makes his appearance, and gives a grand speech. Darterity has heard these kinds of promises before, and more often than not the crew gets the short end of the deal. But there are those rare occasions where everyone makes out like a bandit. Hopefully luck is on their side...
Stepping forward Darterity removes his hat and bows towards Lark. "You talk a pretty story, sir. I'm a pilot, and not bad in a scrap, if it comes to that." With a grin he continues. "I'm always up for a chance to pad my pockets, and if your treasure is anything like you describe I think we'll get along very well. Darterity, at your service."
-
"Boy. Your parents will be proud? Are you serious? Do your parents even know your this far out of the city? This is no childs mission, surely you must return home for it is almost your bed time." Lark laughed. A boy he thought surely this couldn't be possible. Even if he claimed to be Alfons the rumored best engineer in Mistvald surely his reputation would possibly draw unwanted attention to the secret mission they were about to embark on.
Lark thought on it for a second as he stroked his goatee. If this was the real Alfons then perhaps he could be of great use. Lark was in desperate need of a wrencher who could get Gracie's mired propulsion and navigation systems back online. Lark had heard bar talk about this Alfons being able to fix anything but to take a teenage boy to Keln and beyond that was another story.
"Well boy. If you are the real Alfons you'll have to prove it. Also I'm gonna need your parents permission slip." Lark winked and laughed. "Oh, and a couple of weeks of flying with me and your gonna have to trade in that toothpick rapier for a cutlass. Aeros don't fence they brawl."
"Btw, what exactly is that machine thing and how on earth could it be useful? It looks to big and slow to be of any use in a brawl."
"And you Half-Elf." He turned from Alfons not yet allowing him to repond; to give remark to Darterity. "Yes I do speak a pretty story indeed, my friend. Feast your eyes upon this." He pulled a ruffled parchment from within his breast pocket and waved it for all to see. "This is a Mistvaldic legislative decree stating that this mission is of dire importance to the Realms. It further states you'll be compensated well for your service." Lark assured. He knew he was throwing out his trump card, but how else was he gonna get a crew to join without pay. He also knew that if the Legislator found out about him waving the secret decree around in broad day light he'd have his head on a spit or worse.
Lark could see some scepticism on the faces of those gathered and descided to branish the decree slower so that all could see the Mistvaldic seal. Even if the parchment was already frayed and stained from his trip back to the aerodrome anyone who spent even a short period in Mistvald would know that this was indeed an authentic decree.
Lark looked back to Clang and Alfons waiting for their response. He also noted that there were two others; the woman and the Elve which he had yet to hear express themselves. Noting when he was done with the boy he'd make sure he got their stories too. Lark knew that it was uncommon to see a female aero but what was even more uncomprehendable was seeing an Elve volunteer for aero service.
-
Linden lightly swung her coat from her shoulder and folded it over her left forearm as Lark stepped up to the group. She had watched him come from the aero and his current assertive posture confirmed that he was in command of this particular ship. Her brief glance down at his attire raised goosebumps on her arms and she had almost wished she'd kept her long coat on.
She quickly corrected her wincing expression and focused back on what the man was saying. Her mind briefly skimmed over the fact that someone's blood was on the man's jacket and the resulting feelings triggered the thought of lighting up another cigarette. What had she been thinking to even consider such an abstract mission?
Her skeptical stare followed Lark as he began to pace. He sounded well rehearsed in her opinion and he certainly seemed to know which of her heartstrings to pluck. Bad luck. Squashed dreams. Once more, the mere thought of her aeroplane being sent to scrap stung the corners of her eyes with unshed tears.
There was no other choice for her if she wanted to keep her dignity and yet she hesitated as others threw in their lots. She wasn't new to the life of a pilot nor the workings of an aero crew, yet all the other jobs she'd had seemed to hold more water than this rusty sieve of a plan. Her eyes narrowed discerningly.
If there was a reward?
And the state of the captain, other than his bravado, was on par with the slag she'd drank with at the Quandary. She chewed at the inside of her cheek as the conversation went on between Lark and the others. Her eyes fell on that blood stain for a second time. Briefly she considered taking up that urge to have another smoke and strolling out to find another ship to serve.
Then, Lark had waved the decree in all of their faces. It might have reminded her of a man under pressure waving the white flag of surrender if she'd been thinking beyond her desperation for work. Yet, her attention was immediately caught. She followed the swaying paper like a string had been attached between her nose and the parchment. As he waved the decree at a slower speed, she caught sight of the Mistvald seal.
"You've need of a second pilot?" she blurted.
-
"Indeed. I've got two Sparrows, Guardian model aeroplanes. The pride of the Yish aero-yard. They are just like the Twin-sails you've probably come across. Everyone trains on one of those if they've flown in the Vald." Lark said matter of factly trying to appease the female aero.
"Well I know Sparrows are a little dated but most pirates don't carry state of the art aeros either." Again, trying to draw attention away from the fact that the aeroplanes the Graceful Gale had attached to its launch skiffs were outdated by almost a decade.
Although they were fast and light they lacked strength in the wings having the all too common tendancy for them to shear off in a steep dive or in harsh manuevers. They had the one advantage of being mechanically simple and cheap to maintain. A perfect trade off for an aero captain strapped for currency.
-
"Him? His name is clang, by the way, and hes a construct. Hes stronger then 20 men, and can no doubt be of value scavanging and hauling cargo" He said knowingly, patting the construct again on the shoulder. He would not leave the thing behind, for his own reasons.
"And prove myself? What would you have me do?" he asked, ignoring the comment about permission slip for now.
-
Clang continues watching Alfons as the young engineer extols his supposed virtues. Despite not really being sure if he was even half as stong as Alfons claimed, and not being entirely certain what would be involved in 'scavenging and hauling cargo', he looks at Lark and nods enthusiastically at the claims, his mechanical neck creaking as it does so.
One thing he knew for certain: he did not want to be left behind.
-
"Well boy, perhaps you could start by making some... adjustments to the rutter. You see it needs a little... tweaking." Lark said not trying to let everyone know that without it fixed the Aero wasn't going anywhere except in a straight line.
"Perhaps you and "Clang" can go take a look at it while I speak with the rest of the crew." Lark said sweeping his arms like an usher directing him toward the Gale.
"And for the rest of you perhaps we should talk separately. There is something we need to do tonight before we leave port..."
-
His attempt to make friends ignored, Serassey simply quietens down as the others around him discuss things like 'pay', 'decree', 'proving'.
There was a talk about 'sparrows' and serassey winces at the name. A name for a lovely bird used for these Aeros? It was simply.... aggravating... to say the least of it.
When Clang nods to Alfons' boast, the creaking sends his hearing into overdrive. He massages his ears to help rid himself of the pain, but it is too late. A slight ringing is heard before it dies down and hears normally again. (See OOC)
Lark speaks. "And for the rest of you perhaps we should talk separately. There is something we need to do tonight before we leave port..."
Serassey awaits his turn, but resolves to put as much distance between him and that machine. As such, he casually turns around and walks a few steps, attempting to find interest in the Aeros around him.
-
"A little tweaking?" Alfons snorted "Hah! I can do better then that."
He glances over to the aero.
"Seems to have taken a little wear over some time." He commented dryly. "Don't worry, I'll fix it up, as long as clang can come with of course. Trust me, you won't find no one better then me, so you want us along"
He grinned at the man, and begins to glance about for tools and such in the garage.
-
The Sparrows attached to the Gale were not a concern of Linden's. She'd known they weren't as advanced as some of the planes she'd flown and her own aeroplane, with it's beat-up exterior and faulty engine, had hardly been sky-worthy. Her head turned and her chin lifted as she stared up at one of the aircraft. Before they were expected to leave the aeroship, she'd have to examine one for herself and get a feel for that particular model's controls.
Her eyes returned to those on the floor of the hanger as the situation with Alfons and Clang was worked out. She knew she'd heard of and seen the boy before! Lee had mentioned him in one of his many rambles, she was sure, and she thought she'd seen a report on him in one of the Mistvaldic newspapers. Yet, his youth brought some doubt to her mind as Lark requested that he 'tweak' the rudder.
And then there was the subject of Clang and the fact she that she hadn't quite determined whether she should be wary of it. Serassey had already established his own distaste and was standing as far away from the hulking construct as he could without being too far away from the group. While not nearly as offended, Linden was carefully watching Clang each time he spoke or moved.
Leaning into one hip, she waited for Lark to continue. Her bloodshot eyes followed Alfons and Clang's movements, curious as to whether the teen's confidence remained as he went to examine the rudder and exactly how graceful a large construct could be wondering around the aeroship. She shuddered as she pictured a few grisly ways she might die on this mission.
-
A Mistvaldic decree. He had seen a few of those in his life. But he'd never worked with anyone that had one. This sealed the deal. Either this man was a crack counterfit and a fool to be waving such a decree around, or it was legit. Darterity hoped that it was the latter.
"And for the rest of you perhaps we should talk separately. There is something we need to do tonight before we leave port..."
Raising his finger into the air Darterity clears his throat before speaking. "I suggest we steer clear of the Crooked Propeller, if at all possible... Bunch of card sharks and fast talkers in that place..." He says with a wink.
-
"No, we'll stay here." Lark said as he beckoned for them to follow. "Over here's a supply shed. It's far more secure than speaking in the open or at one of those watering holes. You've all met Grumbald by the way; he'll probably be coming out soon to join us."
No Later did Lark finish than Grumbald hop from the landing skiff who was surprised, but only for a split second to run into Clang and Alfons making their way toward the aero.
"How do ya do." Gumbald greeted quickly as he passed not paying any mind to the fact that a boy and a machine were about to enter the Gale.
"Aww there he is." Lark said as he made his way to the shed which on first appearances looked like a dilapidated ruin of corrugated tin and termite bitten planks.
Inside the shed were stacks of empty barrels and crates and a hodge podge of discarded aero gear. Frayed ropes and chains dangled from rusted notches and the floor was lined with moldy straw. There was little if anything of value inside but it did offer a sanctuary for all to pop down on a crate or barrel to speak in private.
"All right situate yourselves and I'll begin. By the way any questions before we start?" Lark asked.
-
Linden quietly chuckled at Darterity's mention of the Crooked Propeller, "Aye? Well, I'd prefer to likewise forgo the Quandary's piss-poor ale and...varied...company."
Not to mention the rent due on that closet they called a room.
Her amusement faded slowly as Lark mentioned that the supply shed would be their meeting place. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a rolled cigarette. If they weren't going for a drink, she could at least have her smoke. The secretive meeting was most likely going to cause more distress to her already raw nerves.
She pulled out the lighter contraption that Grumbald had left behind the night before as she followed Lark towards the shed. Her hand cupped over the flame, she briefly stopped to wait for the cigarette to light. Waving the lighter abruptly, she outed the flame. As the halfling approached the shed, she lowered her eyes to the device and dropped it back into the pocket.
A barrel near the shed's door looked comfortable enough and allowed for an easy escape if needed. She perched easily on the edge and brought her left knee up to drape her coat over and wrap her left arm around. The heel of her boot resting in the lip of the barrel and her eyes squinting as she flicked the cigarette, she turned her eyes on Lark in anticipation of his words.
-
With a nod to Linden he chuckles, "Haha, well it seems that we both should avoid the lower district for a time."
Darterity follows Lark to the storage shed. His nose already caught the whiff of something fishy. Nothing kosher ever comes from a secretive meeting in a storage shed. But there wasn't much about Darterity that was kosher to begin with...
He shifts a crate to make it more level and dusts off the top of it before sitting down. As Linden flicks her cigarette he unconciously dusts off some invisible spec on his shoulder pad.
"No, captain. No questions. Even if there were it would be no surprise that you will be answering them shortly. Of course, once you've told us the meaning of this meeting in a dilapidated old shed, then there might be a few..."
-
Serassey has his back turned to the group, only turning around when he hears them walking somewhere away from him. He finds the one named 'Grumbald' jumping off and joining Lark and the others in a small room.
He quickly makes up his mind to follow them and does so, only to regret it a moment later when the air changed and seemed... more stale than before. His attempts to hold back a sneeze fails as he waves his hand in front of him, trying to chase the air away.
Darterity takes a seat on a crate, pushing up more dust into the surroundings. Serassey leans back in an attempt to escape the cloud of dust and simply decides to stand in a corner to listen to the proceedings.
He ensures that Lark is looking at him before he shakes his head, communicating a 'no' in response to his question.
-
Alfons blinked and nodded to Gumbald at his greeting before giving clank and odd look. He shrugged and started to head over to to gale, where we would move to a position, inside or outside of the ship looking to get the best view of the rudder.
"What do you eat anyway?" he asked clang idly as he picked up some tools, moving closer into position where he can get a real good look at what he was dealing with. He had worked on aero's once or twice, so it wasnt completely new to him. He did not have all the tools he would have liked, but he supposed that this was not the accadamy, but he could make do with what he had.
-
Clang dutifully follows Alfons around, but keeps a respectful distance so as not to get in the way of the young engineer.
"What do you eat anyway?" Alfons eventually asks. He doesn't seem to interested in the answer, as he is already preoccupied with the aero in front of him.
Clang's head snaps to attention, and he realizes he doesn't really KNOW what he eats... only that he is hungry.
He looks down at his massive metallic hands, still stained with traces of black soot. Faintly, vaguely, a memory forms. Though his actions at the time were performed only on the very edge of conciousness, he does recall eating something when he first awoke.
He extends his palms outwards, hoping Alfons will see the traces left on them.
"Rocks. Dusty... black rocks."
-
He paused
"Dusty... black rocks? I only know of one dusty black rock..... Coal?"
He asked and looked at clangs hands. He swiped a finger across one of clang's hands, sniffing it, and then eventually tasting the black residue that he had wiped off.
He made a sour face and spit on the floor "Yeah... that's what it seems like. I wonder if there is any coal around here?" he said, thinking a bit, multitasking between making calculations out loud for the aero (for those who are listening, its fairly complex mathmatics hes spouting) and looking about for coal.
-
Clang thinks for a moment. Indeed, that word seems to register in his hazy memory. He nods, at first hesitantly, but then with more certainty.
"Yes. Coal."
He remains standing still on the spot, watching Alfons as he busies himself. The complex calculations and numbers the young engineer spouts go far beyond Clang's limited understanding however - Alfons might as well be speaking a completely different language.
-
"Alright, I think we've waited long enough. I'll begin." Lark stated with a smile making his way to the center of the group. At first he wore a pensive expression as if trying to solve a problem, but only for a moment until it dissolved into a more satisfied look.
"Well I want you all to know I’m not a dupe and I won't lead you astray. I'm gonna give it to you straight because that's the kind of Captain I am. You've all shown you'll volunteer to be a crew member of the Gale but that comes with some obligations. You see in acting in accordance with the wishes of the State we may have to step outside the law to act for the greater good of all." Lark wasn’t sure if he was mumbling and getting his point across, or if the group was even following him at all.
"Again, I'll bring it back to saying that I’m honest and let you know that before we can proceed on this mission we have a hurdle we must overcome. In doing so, it will require some creativity and a little foray outside of the realm of legality. If you catch my drift?" Lark started to pace around the straw laden shed keeping eye contact in order to show his sincerity and to catch how all reacted to his words.
"The Gale, is missing some key components in order to maintain its defenses to complete the mission we have placed before us. We are missing cylinder gun rounds of a particular make that are extremely rare. Well to be honest they originate from only one location; the privateer vessel the HS Indomitable to be exact." To this Lark scanned the crowd to catch the reactions for surely a heavily armed ship of war would stir deep emotions of which fear would be the most common.
"We need both shot and shell from the Indomitable and you see if we don't get it we'll be flying to our destination without any firepower. A great beacon for blood thirsty sky pirates or any other scourge along the way."
"Alas, I want to put you all at ease." Lark said as he adjusted his jacket trying to close the double breasted front flap only to have another worn button pop off. "I know a way for us to acquire the shot with out any fisticuffs or shots fired. "
"Get your equipment ready, we'll be moving out to the docks at midnight. Grumbald will stay here with the boy and the contraption and we'll collect the ammunition. Oh, and by the way try not to wear anything too colorful, preferably black." Lark said as he clapped his hands together greedily. "Make haste."
****************************************************
Lark's former wrencher McCree stopped on the dark street corner to adjust his belongings. He was on his way to the west dregs carrying his belongs. There he hoped to pawn them all off and possibly get a job as a bosin's mate on a privateer sea faring ship. He didn't want to mingle anymore in these parts for the dregs at night were exceptionally dangerous. After a couple of minutes and some hasty adjustments to his cart and sacks he began to push off again down the deserted cobblestone streets. The street torches had all burn out as no night watch ever patrolled these parts and McCree wasn't accustomed to the dark. He rounded a street corner and ran smack dab into a body of men.
At first McCree recognized them as aeros by their woolen and leather jackets. Perhaps he'd stumbled into a group of friends. McCree noticed something vaguely familiar about one of the figures in the dark. Then one of the members brought forth a torch and McCree was forced to lift his arm to block the incandescence burning into his eyes. Although for a brief instance McCree could not see the strangers something made his cackles raise and his knees buckle. It was a evil sound that permeated the air which trigger a feeling in McCree of hopeless recognition. Although, no words were carried with this sound for it was laughter. The sinister laughter of a sadist who has cornered his prey. This laughter was from none other than Parth Sinder the malevolent aero captain.
"What have we here boys?" Parth's words slithered through his teeth. "Appears to be Lark's little knuckle dragger. "
A smile from ear to ear like the smile of hyena who had found a wounded gazelle crossed the face of Parth. "So, skipping town? Figured a loyal servant like you'd want to keep flying with that fool Ornnen. See, I had you pegged as one of those honorable and faithful types. Perhaps I was wrong." Parth said as he began to circle McCree. The assembly of crewmen began to do likewise.
"Please, don't hurt me. I've got kids and a family. I'm done with Lark. He's led all of us in his last fool's errand. We've all deserted. To hell with him." McCree pleaded craning his neck to follow Parth as he now approached him from the rear.
"Aww, gentlemen do you hear that. To hell with Lark Ornnen. That's the spirit. We'll if only that's how you felt right before he did this." Parth thrust his heinous scarred and pitted face into the light which happened to be a mere inch from McCree's face.
"I didn't have anything to do with that. I'm just a wrencher not an officer. It's Lark's doing; him and that little half man. They're the ones you want. " McCree pleaded the urge to vacate his bowels growing every second the pitted face of the mirthful man lingered.
"Well, perhaps we can make a deal then, WRENCHER." Parth stated as he pulled a large monkey wrench from the McCree's cart. He began to rhythmically slap it into his opposing open palm as he starred McCree down. "Tell me where Lark is now and perhaps you'll still be able to turn one of these."
"Fine... Fine... Fine alright. Lark's at the Aerodrome. Last I saw he was making preparations to leave. Said he had a new mission. Something big. He begged me to stay. I knew better. I knew he had too many types like you after 'em." McCree told him everything he knew. A small light of hope burned in him that perhaps telling Parth as much as he could would save him any ill will. "They're at the drome and it's only Lark and that fool Grumbald. The rest of the boys left like me. "
"Oh, alone?" Parth said as he lifted McCree's chin with the cold iron wrench. Parth thought about what McCree said about a new mission. The Legislator, but why had he chose Lark. Parth thought quickly for he knew that any attempt to kill Lark would surely bring retribution toward him as the most likely culprit. Parth realized that only an accident would clear his slate. He smiled. Perhaps an exploded boiler as Lark and Grumbald prepare their ship to leave on this mission. Although, there would be one loose end. He turned with a smile toward McCree.
"Your free to go. Surely, you're no longer a member of the crew and no longer a target of my wrath. Go as you please." Parth waved his hand sardonically in the opposite direction.
McCree was elated, he quickly gathered his sacks and turned to go, but as he lifted his cart to proceed Parth nodded to several of his crewmen. McCree didn't see the blow that knocked him unconscious or the coup de grace blow of an iron wrench to his frontal lobe. McCree's body lay motionless as it hemorrhaged blood into the dirty street. Parth's crewmen finally loaded the body into McCree's cart and carted it off to be disposed in one of the nearby pig stalls were no one would be able to identify the eviscerated and masticated remains.
Parth stroked his scarred and calloused chin as he became giddy with the joy of vengeance. The time was nearing midnight. If his crew left now they'd be at the aerodrome with the short arm of the clock just barely passed one. Parth would have his revenge and oh how sweet it would be. He'd make sure to flay Lark and Grumbald alive and then set a charge on the boiler as it sat it hanger at full steam.
Yes, Parth thought as he looked at the rising red moon, a blood moon, a moon which shown with a foreboding light across Mistvald and the dregs. Far off in the night a scream of woman could be heard, and even farther the report of a pistol as a mugger killed his prey. A blood red tint blanketed the bleak dregs and further made the blood rise in Parth's heart. He licked his lips with an air of joy aware that tonight he would satiate his need for vengeance once and for all.