Misthaven: Secret Flight of the Vilya - Part I: A Troublesome Crew

[Soul Reaver]

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?"

[Daccio]

"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.

[Soul Reaver]

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"

[Kitharsis]

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."

[Tyvaris]

"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.

[Tamrissa]

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.

[Tyvaris]

"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.

[Daccio]

"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.

[Soul Reaver]

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.

[Tyvaris]

"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..."   

[john greymore]

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.

[Daccio]

"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.

[Tamrissa]

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. 

[Kitharsis]

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.

[Tyvaris]

"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.

[Tamrissa]

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.

[Kitharsis]

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..."

[john greymore]

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.

[Daccio]

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.

[Soul Reaver]

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."