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Post by captainjeanlucpicard on Dec 25, 2015 22:09:54 GMT -5
OOC: This is starting a few days earlier bc establishing a bit of background 4 character/storyline . I'm lame. Some theme-ish music for fun:
October 1st, 1891
Lucius slammed the door behind him and stepped outside, clenching and un-clenching his fists. He'd been terminated. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have anywhere to go. He'd been terminated. He did have a few things to finish up. He'd been terminated. He didn't want to do them right now, though. He'd been terminated. He stomped away from the tall, cherry-oak, doors of the central office building of the Automation Guild. He'd been terminated.
Roughly six months ago, Lucius submitted plans to start experiments with the ultimate goal of synthesizing a human mind with a clockwork body to the leadership of the Automation Guild for approval. They flat out denied the plans, not willing to risk a human life. It was a considerable blow, Lucius had wrongly assumed that the plans would be approved because of how excellently he'd outlined every last detail. Not one to waste time holding grudges, Lucius channeled his energy elsewhere. He had a spectacular feeling about the project- and he would not let it die. The Automation Guild's leaders were simply too sheepish to take risks in order to move the scientific world, and humanity itself, forward. He would endeavor to create an automated man on his own time in a private lab that he rented himself. He would risk it all in order to prove that his proposal was one that would change Hourglass City.
The plans were simple in their essential nature. Nearly fifty years ago, a man named Isaac Silas began hypothesizing about an third type of energy, a "mind" energy. He called it Myalo. Since there was no way to observe the Myalo, most scientists disproved the theory and that was the end of it. In his plans, Lucius was going to used a substance he dubbed as "MJ420." MJ420 was a gas that could only be synthesized by burning a very distinct, green, leafy plant alongside the metal titanium. He hoped to channel human Myalo through MJ420 and funnel it into the mechanical brain of the clockwork man.
After securing a lab space, equipment, and all of the necessary substances, the only thing Lucius required was a test subject. He wasn't particularly fond of kidnapping, but there was a certain street bum he had in mind. Joseph Marley was a fifty year old drunard that typically spent his time in the alleyways of Automahaven. Standing at about five and a half feet, he was unclean, unshaven, and unhappy. From past conversations, Lucius knew that Joseph regretted many parts of his life, desperately wishing he'd accomplished at least one thing. Lucius decided that he would give him a chance to do just that. Joseph spent most of his time unconscious, so securing the goods would not be a problem. Knowing that the man would likely die of liver failure within the next year (the healers preferred not to waste energy on those that had inflicted damage upon themselves through hazardous activities), Lucius wasn't apprehensive about risking the man's life.
At first, the experiments were a little shaky. Joseph's withdrawal symptoms weren't bad, but they were certainly noticeable. Lucius also noticed that the longer he went without alcohol, the more the man began to smell like a Big Mark- a favorite sandwich at one of the pubs in Hourglass City. It was very strange. Once the withdrawal finished, Lucius was finally able to induce a coma upon Joseph. Progress was made, but there wasn't enough measurable success to predict an outcome.
That's when the Guild found out that he was practicing unsolicited experiments. A coworker of Lucius's, named Jon Alex, resented Lucius for repeatedly depleting MJ420 supplies that he'd been using for his own experiments. Although he didn't know the extent of what Lucius was doing, Jon knew that he had rented out a lab space and was likely working on whatever was inside that folder that he had always been carrying around- the once with "REJECTED" scrawled over the top. After tipping off the Automation Guild, Jon was extremely pleased with himself.
He'd been terminated. The Automation Guild found Lucius's files- the original plans, as well as the notes of progress that had been added to him. How could I be so fuckin' careless? Lucius stopped walking. Although the lab was rented out under a false name, the Guild would still be able to find it after some time. After some time. After some time. Lucius started running toward the lab space. All I need is a few hours. Running. If they don't get help from the Aeronauts, it will take them awhile to find it. Running. I can do it. Running. Just one more experiment on Joseph. Running.
Turning the knob and striding into the room, the lab looked the same as it always did to Lucius : dimly lit, an oaken desk with miscellaneous piles of paper off to the side, and the same worn hardwood floors that whined when Lucius walked over them. The faint hiss of the steam-powered life support system for Joseph was also something that hadn't changed. Today there was a new addition to the aura of the laboratory, though. The stakes were higher this time. Whatever happened -or didn't happen- would have a lasting effect on Lucius's life. He got to work right away.
There were several last experiments Lucius could perform in the time frame he'd allotted himself before he'd guessed the officials would arrive, and he chose the riskiest of all of them. There was no way to know what the outcome would be, and Lucius didn't care. He needed an answer. An explanation. A takeaway for all of the work he'd already put in to the projects. There wasn't a scenario in which he simply surrendered to the Automation Guild.
Lucius stared at Joseph. The man was lying upon the makeshift hospital bed in the middle of the room. He was far from sleeping comfortably- his ankles and wrists blistered, burst, and blistered again beneath the tension of the ropes which restrained him. The smell he gave off was putrid, combining the stench of rotten blood caking the sheets beneath him, pus that coated wounds that hadn't been bandaged, and vomit which was left to stick to his neck. A pre-existing infection had also begun to fester. It started near his right ankle, and red veins encircled the leg, inviting the man closer to death with each pulse of his heart.
Sighing, Lucius tied a facial mask over the bottom half of his face.
"Ready to begin?"
No response. Lucius didn't expect one - Joseph never showed responsiveness to his surroundings until the pain was so intense that his world became red. In a cabinet on the opposite side of the room, the materials required to create MJ420 rested inside. Lucius grabbed all of what remained. He walked back, placed the ingredients in a Roman-style brazier, and lit a fire. The reaction that occurred above the flame was channeled through a metal tube which connected to a mask placed upon Joseph's nose and mouth, he would need to breathe the substance in.
Lucius paced back and forth. Nothing is happening. Why? Typically, the body become observably tense. Then screaming. And then pain. Quiet followed the pain, not out of relief, but out of a terror so strong that the real world was dissociated and vocal chords were rendered useless. In one situation, when Lucius administered the highest dose he'd ever used before this, Joseph was taken with a seizure. His body calmed eventually, but not after causing so much damage where he was restrained that there would be permanent scars. Today, Lucius more than doubled what he used that day.
Lucius checked the patient's pulse. It was abnormally normal. For a few minutes, Lucius was naive enough to believe that he himself had done something wrong, becoming enraged at the possibility of the MJ420 not being channeled correctly through the tube. That's when the screaming started. Lucius didn't hear it with his ears. He felt it. A wave of energy, shock, and terror shuddered down his spine. His mind couldn't interpret what had happened. Where... in the bloody hell... is that... where is it coming from? He turned. He stared. He fell to his knees. It was no longer a scream, it was a howl. It was unholy. The man -if you could call him that- was writhing on the table. If you could call it that. Oh, oh God - it looks... It looks like he's being torn apart from the inside. The creature on the table didn't have a name. The man that once resided in that body was long gone. He'd been evicted, and what remained was a shell. The shell was bleeding from the eyes. From the nose. Blood. It was red. Its nails dug into the table beneath its shell body. A few of them cracked under pressure. Blood rose through their fissures. It was red. It started convulsing. Every muscle of the body released, and tensed, released, and tensed. There was urine. It wasn't yellow, it was red. It was blood. There was vomit. It wasn't brown. It was red. It was blood. There was death. It wasn't red. It was done. It stopped. There was death. It.. it stopped. I need to... is he dead? I need to check... Lucius wiped the sweat cascading down his face. None of this felt real. His consciousness crawled to the back of his mind and his subconscious took over. It allowed him to do what needed to be done. He checked the pulse. It was all over. Joseph's body was dead, and it was red all over.
Suddenly, Lucius realized what he'd done. He realized that there was no way to undo these actions. He realized that in the process of creating a monster he'd become one himself. He retreated. To the back of his mind. I need to escape. I can't breathe. I need to escape. He was running away from his own thoughts. His own compulsions. The howling man on the table would not leave his mind, so he had to. He'd become a shell of a person, but he was still alive. Lucius allowed his subconscious take over once more, as if he was an airship on autopilot. He needed to leave. He ran out the door. He ran into the streets and didn't look back.
He’d run all the way out of Automahaven and through Peripoint. He was now at the edge of New Toppingham. His mind caught up with him. He looked at the ground: dark, cold, wet; at his feet: foreign, whose were they? they’re mine; at his hands: cold, bony, but his; and eventually in front of him. He didn’t process the sounds of his surroundings immediately but he did know the buildings - he was between one of the airship docks and one of the marketplaces. This is alright… stay calm, stay calm. Lucius suddenly felt faint, but he kept it together. I’m going to walk. There are people. Avoid their gaze and move. Move. Walk. The Guild will be looking for me once they find- oh, oh God. He stopped walking and stared straight in front of himself, clenching his jaw. He knew the Guild would look for him - but any resources used for a search over a week would draw attention. They wouldn’t risk exposure of his projects - there would be public uproar. A week. Remain unseen and unheard for a week.
He continued walking and eventually reached a cluster of market stalls. He snagged a full-length coat from a nearby stall. It was more difficult to remain unseen than he’d anticipated, but he managed. He deposited his lab jacket on the ground and continued walking, managing to also obtain a hat that shaded the upper half of his face. Where am I sleeping tonight? Am I going to sleep? I don’t think I’ll even be able to - but I need to. I need to escape. I need to be numb. Booze. I need booze.
Lucius set out to acquire anything in a bottle that he could get his hands on. After browsing the market, he finally saw a vendor speaking to a customer. He made his way over, swiped a bottle of what appeared to be whiskey, and was set on his way. Fuck, why did I ever bother paying for this stuff? He smirked to himself.
“Tha’ fuck you think you’re going with that you bloody rat?”
Lucius stopped, and turned around. It was a member of the pirate guild, per the mechanical wings on his back, but not the vendor he stole from. Damn it, probably a friend of the vendor’s. The middle-age didn’t have any notable features, simply a boy of average stature. Looks pretty young; must be new? I wonder if he’s trying to prove himself by stopping me. Considering how young the pirate appeared to be, Lucius decided that his best plan of action would be through intimidation.
“Oh, nowhere in particular.” He gave a calm smirk. “Though I’d pick up a bottle and find myself a woman. I get awfully lonely come dusk.”
The pirate gave a few tentative flaps of his wings, coming forward a few feet. “Just hand over the bottle and I won’t give you any trouble, mate.”
Lucius glanced up, checking whether or not anybody noticed their altercation. He appeared to be safe, for now. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Are you fond of those wings on your back? You can thank me you damn scummy pirate, I’m one of the highest bloody rankin’ members of the Automation Guild. I put those wings on ya’ back, and if you don’t fuckin’ walk away, I can just as easily rip em’ right off.” Lucius took a step forward, placed the bottle on the ground, and crossed his arms.
His opponent furrowed his brows, and decided to turn away. “If I see you again, I’ll be watching you. Yer’ a freakin’ dog. Get out of here.”
Lucius went on his way, found about as comfortable of an alleyway he could, and sat down. Popping off the cork of the bottle, he started at the Moon. Shit, I used to love the night sky. It was… a cloak. The Moon was my friend, kept all my damn secrets. It was a fuckin’ pearl. It was distant, but it was a beautiful, pure, pearl. The Moon was no longer a pearl. It was angry and outlined by dark, harsh, clouds. It knows what I’ve done. It knows I killed a man and created a monster and even killed the monster too. It knows I become a god forsaken monster myself. The Moon’s glare sang of betrayed trust and scorned friendships. Lucius took a swig of whiskey. It was good; strong. His mind didn’t need to think about the day’s events anymore. His mind was at the bottom of the bottle, and between his lips and his mind was whiskey. It burned and tasted slightly of toffee. It had been aged extremely well, he decided. Eventually, he escaped the Moon’s gaze and fell asleep.
October 2nd, 1891
Lucius awoke to see Nathaniel Enright standing over him, glaring.
"Alright, wakey-wakey. Time to get up. I'd like you to answer some questions for me."
Lucius slowly stood up, twisting his back side-to-side a few times to stretch away a night spent asleep on the ground. It didn't help much. He'd seen Nathaniel patrolling the streets of Hourglass city before. Although not a fucking wanker, Nathaniel was still a member of the Aeronaut Guild, which Lucius had some fundamental problems with. Shit, worst case scenario is he knows about the experiments; but most likely he just wants to bring me in for public intoxication... Once I'm in custody I'll be screwed. Fucking by-the-book rule hounds. This guy isn't going to let this go. I'm done. It's over. Fuck. Lucius sighed.
"What do you need? I've not done anything wrong, sir."
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow questionably, and gestured toward the nearly empty bottle of whiskey resting behind Lucius on the ground. "Y'sure about that? I don't think that bottle finished itself, mate. Let's do this the easy way- Y'not necessarily in trouble. Just walk with me while I ask a few questions." He paused, pushing a wisp of his blonde hair behind his ear. "Let's not make this messy."
Lucius was about to muster a response when suddenly his head jerked to the left, out of his own control. He glanced around frantically and turned back to face Nathaniel -it felt as if he was trying to push his way through extremely thick mud- he didn't have an explanation and didn't try to make one up. What the he- it happened again. His hands started shaking ever so slightly. It felt like every ounce of his mental manifestation was trying to break free of his physical body, except... scarier. It felt like he was running away from something. What the hell. Oh my god. I'm... scared. What is happening? He started down at his shaking hands and looked back up at Nathaniel.
"Alright, boy, you're coming with me. I don't play games. Let's go." The Aeronaut took a step forward to reach out, and Lucius suddenly fell to the ground. "D'you think you're funny?" Nathaniel made an intense frown. Lucius suddenly sat straight up. It looked as if he was a puppet that was suddenly jerked upward by strings. The hairs on the back of Nathaniel's neck stood up, but he wasn't going to back down. He'd dealt with more than a few drunkards during his mandatory time as a street patrol during his youth.
||| OOC: Lucius is going to have a switch between personalities (Lucius has DID/MPD) He is "switching" from Lucius to Shayde. Check plot info if you're confused. I'm bad at explaining |||
Shayde smirked, showing just the faintest hint of teeth between his seemingly devilish lips. He lowered his head slightly, which immediately intensified his facial structure; his cheekbones sharp enough to give one a paper-cut if they were to slap him. This is delightful, I've actually managed to get control of the body. Oh, I have plans. Yes. I have plans. Shayde looked up at Nathaniel from beneath his piercing eyebrows. The man was staring at him with both intrigue and confusion. Shayde spoke,"I have plans for you." He cocked his head just slightly to the left and stared at the Aeronaut.
"What the hell... What is this? Get up."
Shayde crossed his arms, a glare of pure disdain settling over his face "No. You do not fucking tell me what you do you bloody human. Y'er a god-damn sack of water you utterly useless piece of--" Nathaniel was lightning-fast and allowed both his instincts and Aeronaut training to take over - it was time to neutralize the problem. In a matter of seconds he was holding Lucius's body against the alleyway wall, holding him up by his shirt collar.
"You're forgetting your place, Sir. It's time you come with me."
Shayde was utterly annoyed. They're all so naive. He honestly thinks he has a chance. Nathaniel couldn't see it, but there was a wisp of black energy fluidly taking position just behind his head. About time. "Anytime is good, preferably while your host is still distracted." The wisp slithered into action immediately. It entered Nathaniel's body through his left ear. Nathaniel released Shayde and brought his hands up to his head in horror, but they almost immediately dropped. An expression of calm covered the man's face. The Shade had taken control.
Shayde picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. He threw his head back and drew in a lung-full of oxygen. My plans are just beginning, Nathaniel, he thought to himself. "Quite a nice job. Your effortless control over the host is... really, quite spectacular." Shayde took a short walk around Nathaniel, looking him over and admiring the complete stillness that the Shade had placed over the man. "I'll let you get acquainted. There will be a feeding soon." He strolled away.
October 3rd, 1891 Shayde stared at the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. "Disgusting," he muttered to nobody in particular as he crossed his arms. Humans are utterly useless - do they actually believe they're the only beings capable of conscious thought? He frowned, the sunlight had a green tinge due to all of the smog hanging in the air. All of this damage to the planet because they think they're the smartest creatures - that they know what's best. I made that mistake when I was a still human. I was naive like them. He started walking toward Automahaven, knowing he'd need to secure a location for the shadow jar - the Shades needed to feed soon. Hopefully they aren't incompetent and will actually find the jar this time around, he thought as he recalled a past incident in which three vessels were wasted due to irresponsible time management.
Why do humans waste so much time sleeping? Shayde hadn't slept all night; this was the longest he had ever managed to maintain control of the body, and he didn't want to waste any of his time with his eyes closed. Sleep is the ultimate escape. They fill their days with distractions - day jobs, drugs, relationships, any type of stimulus they can find - to get their minds off of the fact that they're all going to die. Their minds shut off when they sleep, though, and they escape the constant reminder that in the end none of them will have any effect on this miserable polluted planet. Sleep is their sedation. They're walking sacks of sludge, and if you puncture them the redness oozes out of them and then eventually their dull minds die along with their revolting bodies; but they never have to think about this when they're sedated.
"What tha' fuck do you think you're doing showing your face around here you piece o' shit?"
Shayde stopped walking and turned to look in the direction of where the sudden remark came from. He immediately recognized the man as somebody from Lucius's memories - a member of the Automation Guild. Does this man have a motive, or is he merely drunk? Shayde remembered that his exterior would be recognized as Lucius. Ah. This ape sees me as a trespasser on his territory. Lucius betrayed this man's social security blanket - his guild - by performing those experiments. How rudimentary. Everyone in this city is so simple, really, do any of them have any interesting aspirations? Or are they all animals, ruled by the hormones produced in their fragile bodies?
He took a step toward the man, "Why, up until I was rudely interrupted by you, I'd been taking a stroll. I have things to do, and quite frankly, you're wasting my time."
The sun wasn't quite up yet, and his figure remained mostly covered by shadows. "D'ya think yer some type of big shot just because you don't work under the Guild's orders anymore?" The man's gestures become increasingly erratic, nearly verging on an aggressive outburst. "I never liked you, always seemed like y'were up to something. Now I-"
Shayde interrupted him. "Stop. Talking. Are you going to get to the point? Or will you give into that nasty little urge crawling beneath your skin and beat me to a pulp?" He frowned, "Oh, don't look so offended. You're only human." Although Shayde couldn't admit it to himself, his own skin was also crawling with overpowering compulsion to get into a fight. In the back of his mind, he was seeking the feeling that mimics a human rush of adrenaline. Shayde's body was made out of clockwork beneath his skin; and although death wasn't a concern he had an innate need to distract himself from, as humans did, he still craved stimulus in the same way that they did. They needed to escape death, and he needed to escape monotony. Boredom drove him to the point of insanity.
The man leaped forward, thrusting a fist forward, but he had been drinking and his shoddy balance threw off his accuracy. He'd also made the mistake of dropping his free arm to the side - he was completely unguarded. Since Shayde's clockwork joints locked in place easily, grabbing the man's flying fist wasn't a problem. The other hand came swinging next, and Shayde blocked it with his forearm. He broke the man's defense by lifting his knee into the man's abdomen, hoping it would knock the breath out of him. The man fell to the ground and strained to breathe.
"Alright... I - get it... just let me be... tha' fuck... did you learn... how to fight?... you fuckin'... twiggy boy..." He got up to one knee and made a slight apology, but it was in vain. Shayde had already gotten a taste of the fight, and he wasn't going to stop until he rode out the rush. He swung at the man, knocking him in the jaw first, and then in the gut. The man fell backward onto the ground. Shayde kicked him severely and felt nothing. More. I need more. He knelt beside the man and grimaced ear to ear when he saw him put a hand out - begging for mercy.
"Sorry. I don't deal in pity business. It was you that confronted me, after-all." This sorry excuse of a human is not even an animal - he is a prey. I'm the predator. I need more. Shayde's hands rose to the man's face and hovered for a few moments before he plunged his thumbs down on his eyes. The screams that occurred perfectly conveyed both pain and horror - they also served to wake up several citizens residing in the area. It's time to finish him off. Shayde's thoughts were irrelevant after this point - the only thing occupying his mind was rage, and the rage was manifesting itself in his fists as he punched the man over and over. And over. And over. And over. By the time he'd finished the sun had risen and he could see the man's face - what remained of it. He'd appeared to be slightly older than Shayde, and had the beginnings of a dark brown beard clinging to his skin. Shayde hadn't noticed though - he didn't care.
When his business was finished, he got up quickly and walked away from the scene as fast as he could. He'd proceed to find a barrel of water to wash off the blood on his hands. His sleeves were now stained, but he simply kept them hidden beneath his dark coat.
October 6th, 1891 Lucius awoke to bitter screaming. What... Where am I? He had no recollection of how long he'd been asleep - or where he was. As lifted his hands to rub his eyes awake, his saw a bit of coppery-red peaking out from under the sleeve of his coat. What the hell? He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was obvious that his sleeves were covered in blood. Lucius tucked them away frantically as he looked around to make sure nobody saw. But there was nobody. Where... is everyone? He decided to follow the terror-filled screams.
He'd walked for a considerable amount of time before finding himself behind the Raven's Watch library, a place he'd never visited often, as the Automation Guild always had the books he needed on hand in their own, smaller, library. The screaming has stopped. Eventually, he spotted a large group of people. Some had a hand over their mouths, their skin pale with shock. Others were inching closer and closer, their intrigue over-riding their horror. Most of the rest were either healers waiting for, or following, instructions, or Aeronauts. I'm still not close enough to get a good look... damn it, what the hell is going on? Suddenly, he everything went silent, everyone had turned their heads in one unifying direction. I need to get as close as I can without being seen. He made his way toward the scene as calmly as he could, attempting to act as if he belonged.
When he finally caught a good, long, look at the utter mutilation lying before him, he frowned. Everyone here is experiencing some sort of emotion and I feel nothing, why do I feel nothing? I don't even feel curious as to why this happened - I just want to get out of here. His thoughts traveled to the mutilation he'd experienced days earlier. The mutilation of Joseph's body, which he'd caused himself. I feel nothing because I've already seen something a million times worse. Suddenly, he spotted why everyone had went silent. There was a tendril of some sort of smoke rising out of what remained of the body's mouth. Its color was a shade of black that could only be described as sinister. Lucius hadn't seen anything like it before, and he certainly didn't wish to see it again. Wh- shit. Shit. Shit. Lucius stared at his hands, at his sleeves. At the blood on them. I couldn't have done this - did I do this? I couldn't... have... I need to get out of here. Get out. Run. Don't run, they'll notice. Get out. Just stray calm and walk away. Walk. Away.
Lucius pushed any form of shock or fear to the back of him mind - it would only serve to put him in danger if he allowed his emotions to steer his actions. He walked as calm as he could manage - but if an outsider were watching him closely they'd easily be able to see his hands shaking and how anxious his step was. As soon as he was at the edge of Ravenport he broke into a run. Breathe. The air he took into his lungs helped clear his head. The vibration of his feet as they impacted the ground kept him in the present moment. He ran until he couldn't. He ran until he reached the edge of Hourglass City, the border of the Wastelands.
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Post by alicia on Dec 25, 2015 22:10:34 GMT -5
October 2nd, 1891
Nathaniel Joseph Enright usually left ground patrol for, well, the ground patrol.
But on that particular morning, as he was flying an airship back to its hangar over New Toppingham, he noticed the slim man crumpled up in an alleyway in the almost empty streets of New Toppingham. He frowned-no one took to the streets in New Toppingham unless they were: one, too drunk to fly (in the case of a pirate), two, unable to make their way up to the walkways that stretched across the streets for whatever reason, or three, trying to avoid being found. Nathaniel had the sneaking suspicion that it was the third.
He landed the small airship in the hangar and then made his way back to where he'd seen the man, dodging pirates flitting across his path. Nathaniel nudged the man with the tip of his boot. "Alright, wakey-wakey. Time to get up. I'd like you to answer some questions for me."
The man opened his eyes and slowly got to his feet. His eyes were a bit unfocused at first, which likely had something to do with the empty bottle at his feet. "What do you need? I've not done anything wrong, sir," he replied in a remarkably calm voice, all things considered.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. He motioned to the empty bottle of whiskey sitting by the man on the ground. "Y'sure about that? I don't think that bottle finished itself, mate. Let's do this the easy way-you're not necessarily in trouble. Just walk with me while I ask a few questions." Nathaniel stopped for a moment and pushed a wisp of his hair away from his face. "Let's not make this messy." There was a bad feeling in Nathaniel's gut about the entire situation. The man was certainly different from most of the drunkards he found laying around. More...composed. And the sound of his voice suggested that he had at least some degree of higher education.
The man's head jerked to the left, and his hands began to shake. There was a confused and fearful look in his eyes. He glanced around wildly, first at his hands and then back up at Nathaniel. Oh bloody hell, this can't be good, Nathaniel said in his head. Better bring him back with me to Peripoint. Chief Deputy Wellington will want to take a look at this one, he thought, referring to the stocky chief of the ground patrol branch of the Aeronaut Guild.
"Alright, boy, you're coming with me. I don't play games. Let's go," Nathaniel ordered, reaching for the man's arm. The man abruptly jerked away and crumpled to the ground. Nathaniel sighed in exasperation. "Do you think you're funny?" The man said nothing, but he sat straight up again, like he was being jerked around by some unseen puppet master. Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. What the fuck is this asshole doing? A chill ran down his spine. This definitely wasn't normal.
The man smirked and lowered his head, emphasizing his prominent cheek bones. He looked back up at Nathaniel, and Nathaniel saw with a mounting sense of alarm that his expression had completely changed. There was something dark and unsettling in his blue-green eyes. "I have plans for you," the man said, tilting his head slightly and staring hard at Nathaniel.
"What the hell... What is this? Get up," Nathaniel responded gruffly.
The man crossed his arms and let an expression filled with contempt slide onto his face. "No. You do not fucking tell me what to do, you bloody human. Y'er a god-damn sack of water you utterly useless piece of-"
Nathaniel let out a breath of disgust and sprang into action. In the time that it took the man to blink, Nathaniel had the man pinned up against the wall, grasping the collar of his shirt. "You're forgetting your place, Sir. It's time you come with me," Nathaniel said in a brusque tone. Despite the position he was in, the man seemed completely unperturbed. In fact, the expression of contempt was still on his face as well as...irritation? Nathaniel felt a faint niggling of concern. The faster he got back to Peripoint, the better.
"Anytime is good, preferably while your host is still distracted," the man remarked. What in the name of.... Nathaniel tightened his grip on the man's collar, but before he had a chance to do anything else there was a sharp pain in his left ear that expanded into his skull. Nathaniel's hands fell away from the man's collar and went to his head. He tried to let out a grunt of pain and stagger backwards. However, he just...couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his feet, open his mouth, close his eyes....What the hell did he do to me?! Nathaniel thought frantically. He tried again, and again, and again, to no avail. A cold feeling wrapped itself around his head. Nathaniel's hands dropped down to his sides of their own accord.
There was a harsh, cruel laugh that came from the inside of his head. Foolish, just as Shayde predicted, a mocking voice that created no audible sound said. Nathaniel watched Shayde stand up and dust himself off, but it was like watching through a pair of goggles. Nathaniel felt strangely disconnected from the outside world, like there was a barrier in between him and his eyes. Nathaniel felt fear creep up his throat, except it wasn't his throat anymore. He tried to scream, to call out, and again, he just couldn't. In fact, his features seemed to be totally calm.
"Quite a nice job. Your effortless control over the host is... really, quite spectacular," Shayde mused out loud, walking in a circle around Nathaniel. There was a smug feeling coming from the thing that had lodged itself inside Nathaniel's head. Shayde said something about a feeding before striding away, leaving the Shade and its newly acquired host alone in the alleyway.
*****
A few hours later, Nathaniel and the Shade were in his quarters. The rooms were devoid of any decoration, though Nathaniel had more space and furniture than the average pilot due to his rank. The Shade had taken all of the money and important documents it could find and stuffed them into a sack. Nathaniel's clock-bird and whistle went into the sack as well. The Shade directed Nathaniel's eyes toward the small framed portrait of him and his wife and son, which was the only non-Aeronaut Guild issued item other than a set of civilian clothing inside his quarters. The Shade stared at it, and Nathaniel felt it flip through his memories like they were pages in a book.
Elizabeth and Thomas, yes? the Shade asked, referring to Nathaniel's wife and son. An image of the smiling raven-haired woman and the young boy with a mane of tousled dirty blonde hair came to Nathaniel's mind.
Touch either of them and I'll rip you to shreds, Nathaniel snarled. A silent chuckle echoed through his head. The Shade removed the portrait from the frame and cast the portrait aside, pocketing the gold frame.
Big words for someone as helpless as you are, the Shade taunted. Nathaniel fell silent. It would be better to watch and wait until he found a way to get the thing out of his head. The Shade finished collecting everything it deemed of value from Nathaniel's quarters. It was very disconcerting to see his own hands moving about and picking things up, yet having absolutely no control over them. Nathaniel waited apprehensively for the Shade's next move; he couldn't make out its intentions, but it couldn't be up to anything good. The Shade changed out of the Aeronaut uniform Nathaniel was wearing and into a less conspicuous get-up. It removed the medals from Nathaniel's Aeronaut uniform and placed them carefully where he always kept them. It procured a wide-brimmed hat from the wooden wardrobe in the corner of Nathaniel's quarters and put it on, concealing Nathaniel's features.
It was then Nathaniel fully realized what the Shade was doing. A wave of horror washed over him. No, he whispered. No, no, no. You're making me desert the Aeronaut Guild. The Shade did not deign to reply. Nathaniel tried to resist. He put every ounce of willpower that he had behind dropping the sack. What once had been the effortless action of uncurling his fingers suddenly was impossible. No matter what he did, it was like Nathaniel was running up against a brick wall. The Shade laughed coldly at the confusion and frustration that Nathaniel was feeling.
It's useless, Nathaniel, it said condescendingly. I have complete control.
Nathaniel slammed himself against the brick wall many more times before he gave up, exhausted. Resistance seemed to have no affect on the Shade's grip over his body. But Nathaniel was not one to give up easily. He would bide his time, and strike when the Shade was weak. Nathaniel knew that the Shade was a living thing; otherwise, it would not be able to feel emotion. And all living things eventually grew weak without subsistence.
After the Shade finished searching through Nathaniel's belongings, it exited his quarters. There were two younger pilots loitering near the mess hall when the Shade and Nathaniel passed, and the Shade nodded slightly at them exactly the way Nathaniel would have as they saluted. Nathaniel was unnerved. The Shade's use of his mannerisms was scarily accurate. And it had only been inside his head for a couple of hours. Nathaniel desperately tried to regain control of his body; to stop the Shade from walking out of the barracks forever. Everyone he cared about was here in Peripoint, and he couldn't desert the Aeronauts, he couldn't...but there was nothing he could do. The brick wall loomed higher than ever, and the Shade laughed mockingly at Nathaniel's futile attempts.
*****
Two hours later, Nathaniel's thick blonde hair had been cut short and dyed black. The Shade had sold the gold frame for a sizable amount of money. Then, it had stolen a long, hooded cloak and a large can of brown paint from the market place in New Toppingham.
The Shade was now making its way to the hangar where Nathaniel had left the small airship earlier that day. The airship was nothing special; it was more of a patrol airship than anything. However, airships were the fastest way to get around Hourglass City. The Shade crossed a metal walkway into the run-down hangar, which was deserted. Most pilots preferred the newer hangars, and Nathaniel had only landed the airship in that particular hangar because he had seen Shayde sprawled in an alleyway. The Shade used the paint to conceal the words and symbols on the airship that identified it as an Aeronaut Guild patrol airship before it walked into the airship, going below-decks and to the cockpit. It dug through Nathaniel's coat pocket until it found the key to the cockpit door.
Inside the cockpit, the Shade twisted a few knobs and pulled down on a lever attached to the roof, starting the airship. The propellers began to spin as the engines fired up, steam rising into the air. Nathaniel felt the Shade looking through his memories again, until it found the knowledge of how to fly the airship. Despite his current situation, Nathaniel itched to fly the airship himself, forgetting about the Shade for the moment. Nathaniel loved flying; he loved seeing the city from the air, he loved both cruising slowly and taking his time to enjoy the view and racing at breakneck speeds with exhilaration pumping through his veins; he loved hearing the hum of the engines and the whir of the propellers. He loved everything about flying.
The next thing the Shade did puzzled Nathaniel. It brought the airship out of the hangar and into the open sky, all the while searching for something, or someone. Nathaniel could detect the Shades reaching out to connect with something else. The whole thing was very peculiar, and it made Nathaniel uneasy.
Nathaniel felt the Shade find the object of its search, though he still could not tell what exactly it was looking for. He got his answer soon enough. The Shade began directing the airship toward the roof of a building in Ravensford, and as they got closer and closer, Nathaniel could make out a structure on the rooftop. It seemed like some sort of...shed, albeit a very large shed. The Shade expertly navigated the airship into the structure, landing it inside. The propellers slowed and the engines fell silent.
The Shade exited the airship and walked outside. It made its way across a walkway that stretched across a bustling street. In Ravensford, the buildings were more orderly and there were less walkways in between each building. There were more people on the streets and there was an air of scholarly energy that seemed to constantly permeate the atmosphere. Nathaniel could see the towers of the Raven's Watch library rising up into the sky. The Shade began searching for something again, and again, Nathaniel could feel when it connected with whatever it had been looking for. It turned around and headed back in the direction of Peripoint and New Toppingham, this time on foot. Puzzled, Nathaniel watched silently. The predicament that he was in left him feeling uncertain, bewildered, and afraid. But one thing was for sure: Nathaniel was going to find a way to get the Shade out of his head, no matter what.
October 3rd, 1891
It was a little past midnight. The Shade had resorted to back streets and detours in order to avoid being seen by any Aeronauts who might recognize Nathaniel, even with his altered appearance. They were back in the streets of New Toppingham, around the same area where the Shade had first entered Nathaniel. The man who had put the Shade in him-Shayde, as Nathaniel now knew-was waiting for him...for them when the Shade approached him. Nathaniel felt anger course through him. I'm going to fucking squeeze the life out of him, he growled silently, more to himself than to the Shade. The Shade in his head just laughed, soaking in all of Nathaniel's rage and frustration with a smug sense of satisfaction.
"I trust that the host has given you no trouble?" Shayde asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Not at all," the Shade replied in a bored voice with Nathaniel's mouth. "Unless you count a score of meaningless threats and futile attempts at resistance as 'trouble'."
Shayde smirked tauntingly from the shadows. His blue-green eyes seemed to glitter with a sinister sort of amusement in the faint light cast by the moon. "And how are you liking this body?"
"It is excellent. The physical capabilities of this one are far better than that of an average human, and the host possesses a wide variety of useful skills."
"Good, very good. Now, right this way, if you please..." Shayde turned around and beckoned for the Shade to follow. Nathaniel's feet began to move against his will as the Shade trailed after him. The two of them-three, counting Nathaniel-took to the walkways above the streets of New Toppingham. Shayde did not speak for quite some time. Nathaniel could not tell what he was thinking or why he was leading them through New Toppingham, and he sensed that neither could the Shade, though it was content to do as Shayde bid it.
Even at such a late hour, New Toppingham was bursting with life. Pirates flew through the air and airships and hot air balloons filled the open sky. The sounds of rowdy taverns, the whirring of airship propellers, and excited chattering found their way out into the night. They passed by countless pirates hawking their wares in upper levels of buildings that were so tall that they practically faded into the clouds. Everything from alcohol imported from Ashbourne to new propellers imported from Brassham City and miscellaneous technological junk scavenged from the Clockwork Cliffs filled the stalls. Shayde led them through a labyrinth of stalls and airships and walkways until they were in a fairly quiet part of New Toppingham once again.
There was a slight shift in the air, and Nathaniel's instincts kicked in. The Shade sensed this and let its host's training guide its movements. Capitalizing on Nathaniel's lightning-fast reflexes, the Shade whipped Nathaniel's hand in the direction of the back of Shayde's neck. It curled Nathaniel's fingers tightly around the hilt of the blade that had come flying out of the shadows toward Shayde and snatched it out of the air.
Shayde turned around, his eyes flickering with surprise and searching the area behind Nathaniel. The Shade looked in that direction too, where it could make out a figure advancing. The Shade glanced back at Shayde, whose expression was one of extreme irritation.
"I'm surprised that a bloody fuckin' rat like y'self managed to find a friend," the pirate said as soon as he was in earshot, hovering above the walkway. The pirate had another knife in his hand. "I told ya to get out. What're ya gonna do this time, steal some booze for the two of you? I don't think so, mate," the young pirate went on.
Shayde let out a long sigh before responding. "And I remember telling you that I could rip those damn wings off your fuckin' back if you didn't leave me alone." He glanced at Nathaniel. "Now, my friend, if you would be so kind..." Shayde gestured vaguely at the pirate.
The Shade moved so quickly that Nathaniel's body was reduced to a dark blur. Nathaniel felt the Shade reach up and grab the pirate, pulling him down and slamming him face-down on the walkway. "Get ya dirty hands off of me, ya fuckin'-" the pirate was cut off as the Shade wrenched Nathaniel's fingers around the base of the cybernetic wings attached to his back and yanked. His threats and curses turned into screams of agony as the Shade repeatedly attempted to pull the wings out of the pirate's flesh. Nathaniel had no idea if removing a pirate's wings with brute force like this was even possible, but it was undoubtedly painful. He watched in horror while the Shade dug Nathaniel's fingers into the pirate's skin and pulled, pulled, pulled. Eventually, Nathaniel's natural super strength won out, and the Shade held up the severed wings, which were attached to some sort of electrical box that was sparking crazily and a good deal of blood and flesh. Nathaniel cried out in his head at the gruesome sight.
Shayde gave the writhing pirate a cursory glance before examining the bloody wings. "Amazing," he murmured. "It seems that I originally underestimated your host's strength." Shayde took the wings from Nathaniel's hand. "I suppose that this warrants a feeding, yes? I will see you tomorrow," he continued. The Shade nodded, and the two parted ways, with Nathaniel stunned into silence at the events that had transpired.
October 4th, 1891
The room was dimly lit by a single candle and the flames coming from a brazier. Shayde was sitting on the chair in front of the desk, his back toward the door. They were in the building that the Shade had left the stolen airship on top of. Nathaniel had always found Ravensford far more pleasant than New Toppingham, but he would have preferred to be in New Toppingham if it meant that he would not be near Shayde, especially after the incident from the night before. He mentally shuddered every time he remembered feeling the bloody flesh and metal wings underneath his fingers. The Shade seemed to find great amusement in Nathaniel's repulsion.
"Good. You're here," Shayde said as the Shade entered.
The Shade and Nathaniel trailed after Shayde to a corner of the room. The Shade sat down in a chair that was bolted to the ground. Trapped inside his own head, Nathaniel watched helplessly, confused at the Shade's actions. "I apologize for the rather...crude method, but this will have to do for now, as I have no anesthetics to spare," Shayde told the Shade as he tied a blindfold in front of Nathaniel's eyes. The Shade sat completely still while Shayde pulled Nathaniel's hands behind the back of the chair and wrapped a length of rope tightly around his wrists, and did the same to his ankles so that Nathaniel was completely restrained to the chair.
Nathaniel could tell that the Shade was perfectly calm. It did not think that this was anything out of the ordinary. Nathaniel waited nervously for something to happen. He heard Shayde moving around the room; a slight scrape of metal here, a rapid succession of footsteps there. A moment later, Shayde had returned. "Ready when you are," he said to the Shade. Although Nathaniel did not know it, Shayde had brought a shadow jar-a small ceramic jar that contained pure, unaltered Myalo in it. The Myalo had been bound to the shadow jar with a complex ritual that was lost when Gearinggate Harbor was overrun. The Shade needed Myalo to survive. Myalo was to a Shade as food was to an animal.
Nathaniel felt something begin to shift inside his skull; and then something cold slithered out of his ear. Suddenly, he had control of his body again. Nathaniel immediately began to strain against the ropes that bound his wrists together. If he could just get them off, he'd have a chance of escaping...Nathaniel didn't know how long it would be until the Shade was back inside his head, but he didn't plan on sticking around to find out. There is no way in hell that I'm dealing with that fucking thing again. I need to get out of here.
However, it seemed like the ropes were stronger than he thought. Beads of sweat began to form on Nathaniel's forehead. He grunted and forced his wrists away from each other with all the strength that he had. Although it was usually not very difficult to break through ropes for Nathaniel-hell, apparently he was strong enough to rip a pirate's wings out of his back-it didn't seem like anything was happening. What the fuck? How tightly could have he tied these damn ropes? Nathaniel redoubled his efforts, to no avail.
"Mr. Enright, I assure you, all you are doing is wasting your energy," Shayde said flatly. "In the position that you are in right now, there is no way that you will be able to use your strength to its fullest."
"Fuck you," Nathaniel growled. "Once I get my hands on you, y'fucking good-for-nothing piece of shit-" Nathaniel's threat was abruptly cut off by a grunt of pain. Shayde had jabbed something sharp into Nathaniel's side.
"Quiet, please. I find it difficult to think with your incessant chattering." Shayde sighed. "I suppose it would be the best course of action to sedate you, although my supply is pitifully small right now. Nevertheless..." There was a pause, and Nathaniel felt Shayde force his mouth open before forcing a bitter-tasting liquid down his throat. Nathaniel tried to spit it back out, but it was too late. No, fucking hell, not now...Nathaniel's body went limp as he fell unconscious.
When he woke up, the Shade was back inside his head.
October 6th, 1891
A couple days later, Nathaniel and the Shaade were still in Ravensford. The Shade had determined that there would be the least amount of people that would potentially recognize Nathaniel in the district. They were in front of the Raven's Watch when the screaming began. It originated from the front of the library, but soon spread outward. The Shade moved to the source of it. Using Nathaniel's eyes, the Shade managed to catch a glimpse of a pirate viciously attacking civilians. What the hell? Nathaniel thought wildly to himself. The Shade made its way behind the library. Again, it was searching for something...someone. Shayde was nowhere to be found though.
Aeronauts began to swarm the area. The Shade pulled the brim of the hat on Nathaniel's head down over his face, concealing his features. Although Nathaniel had been a pilot, there was still a risk that the members of the ground patrol and emergency response team would recognize him.
Behind the library, Nathaniel saw tha the pirate had escaped every attempt that the Aeronauts made to apprehend him. But he was cornered; surrounded, and backed up against a wall. Nathaniel could feel te Shade reach out to connect...with the pirate? No, Nathaniel realized. There's a Shade in his head as well. What's he doing, why would he attack everyone like that? Did Shayde tell him to?
Fool. Shayde would never be so conspicuously destructive unless he had some kind of ulterior motive,the Shade said silently. It cautiously approached the pirate. Something wasn't right. A moment later, the pirate began attacking himself, first shooting himself in the head and then tearing his flesh to ribbons. Nathaniel and the Shade alike watched, dumbstruck by the pirate's manic actions.
Nathaniel saw Shayde standing on the fringe of the small crowd that had formed around the pirate. The Shade made a move to join him, but it's attention was redirected by the Shade that was jerkily exiting it's dead host via his mouth. The crowd assembled was horrified at the sight. The Shade appeared to be dissipating away into the air, until there was none of it left.
Nathaniel watched through eyes that were his own yet not completely his own, his mind racing. The Shade had starved to death; that much was clear, and it had brought the pirate down with him. Nathaniel almost envied the host. Nathaniel sensed that the Shade wrapped around his brain was troubled, but as usual, he couldn't get much other than a faint feeling that indicated the Shade's emotions. The Shade looked back to find Shayde, but he had disappeared.
A dignified woman with dark brown hair pulled up in a tight bun and blood covering her arms up to her elbows threaded her way through the group of people gathered around the pirate whose Shade had torn its host apart before pulling itself out and dying, dissolving into the wind. Nathaniel recognized her from somewhere; and sensing this, the Shade in his head began to go through his memories until he found her in a memory from over ten years ago. Nathaniel had sustained a semi-serious injury after his airship exploded under him while testing a new prototype for the Automation Guild.
The Cindergate Hospital was clean, compact, and efficient. Thirty-three year old Nathaniel had appreciated this fact as soon as he was conscious enough to properly process information. "How bad is it?" he croaked when a healer came to him. From his vantage point, it was impossible to see the lower half of his body, although he felt it just fine; the pain was so great that each time he shifted, Nathaniel found himself seeing stars.
"You're lucky that you survived," the healer admitted, her expression serious. The words themselves were not all too reassuring, but there was a steel resolve in her eyes and an unwavering confidence in her voice that convinced Nathaniel that he was in good hands. She offered him a cup of a thick, viscous liquid that smelled faintly like syrup. Nathaniel gratefully accepted it and drank deeply, feeling himself slip out of consciousness as amber sparks began to shoot out of the healer's fingers.
Genevieve Winchester. That was her name. Interesting, the Shade in his head mused. Doctor Genevieve Winchester. Nathaniel would have stiffened if he still had control over his body.
"The smoky thing jerking itself out of the pirate...what the hell was that?" she asked. Nathaniel longed to open his mouth and warn everyone about the shadowy threat, but of course, he couldn't.
A fair young woman (whom the Shade identified as a member of the Craftsmen Guild that made watches after it searched Nathaniel's memories) answered Genevieve Winchester, and to Nathaniel's dismay, it appeared that she had no idea what a Shade was. Neither did anybody else besides him and the Shade. Nathaniel wondered if the Shade would do anything; most likely, itwould just go along and pretend to be as confused as the rest of them. It ast a quick glance around the assembled group-other than Doctor Winchester and the watch maker, there were two pirates (Nathaniel felt sick, remembering how the Shade had ripped the wings off of the one pirate's back), a bespectacled young man whom Nathaniel thought must be a member of the Scholar Guild, a blonde woman who Nathaniel did not recognize, a fiery red-haired woman who was a member of the tactical operations branch of the Aeronaut Guild (Charlotte Orwell, Nathaniel recalled), and a couple of members of the ground patrol branch as well as the emergency response team. There was also a man with a very disorganized air to him that Nathaniel thought was either a member of the Scholar Guild or the Automation Guild.
However, at that moment, the only thing Nathaniel cared about was the fact that none of them had the slightest inkling of what the smoky substance pulling itself out of the dead pirate really was.
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Post by skyparttimedemigod on Dec 26, 2015 20:12:02 GMT -5
October 6th, 1891
It wasn't that unusual for John to be visiting the library in Ravensford, he often ventured here because his craft required for him to research on everything from clockwork to cybernetics. His latest project, an automaton, had him cooped up in this place for a long time, almost as long as the amount of time he spent experimenting in his lab station. He wasn't particularly fond of how the city often kept the people separate, each one of the guilds a separate gear only to fit with each other a certain way, and hardly anyone ever venturing to the other guilds. Perhaps it was his upbringing or who knows that he felt that way. The only other place he would ever spend a significant amount of time is the Junkyard Jungle searching for some obscure part to what he was busy constructing (after all his limited wealth often required some creative substitutes).
As he was busy looking through some book he heard some commotion going on outside the library. He was content to continue researching, not wanting to get involved to whatever is going on outside. But as the commotion continued he decided to finally investigate, it was quite distracting to what he was doing. When he saw the sight before him and the lifeless body the only thing he could think of to say was, "Looks very dead."
OOC: *might edit to add idk*
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Post by allyoopster on Dec 26, 2015 20:27:31 GMT -5
Charlotte
October 6th, 1891
Charlotte tread blood and cobblestone to reach her destination. The moment she heard the report from her lavish office in Peripoint, she knew she would need to lean on the intelligence of a few investigators. By her side was Edwin, a young and bright Aeronaut investigator that Charlotte could afford to pull from the epitome of the crime.
"Did you gather useful information from any of the witnesses Edwin?" Charlotte asked, her voice unabashed by the gory scene she has departed from. Just moments ago she was watching healers bury their hands in flesh and gore. Edwin resisted the urge to vomit amidst all of it, and was glad to have left at Charlotte's side. "A witness claimed that he had begun to attack innocent civilians at random" He said, before being viciously interrupted. "I need substantial information Edwin, not what I already know!" She snapped. "I do apologize ma'am, but that is simply all that they recalled", Edwin replied discouragingly. She ignored his statement and quickened her pace. "Be on your toes Edwin, we are arriving at the scene where the pirate has been cornered by our ground troops. Wouldn't want some unhinged pirate to slice off your cock now would you?" Charlotte was known to make awkward, and sometimes troubling remarks around the men in the Aeronaut guild, but they knew better than to retort in such a manner to provoke her. "No, ma'am" he replied in the most composed manner that he could summon up. Upon reaching the area near Raven's Watch library, she glided her hand across the hilt of her trusty rapier. Ground troops were rushing past, not daring to push her aside. She could finally make out the bloody figure of the rogue pirate up ahead, grasping both a sword and gun pointed at the troops. He aimed his gaze towards them menacingly. As the ground troops were surrounding him, Charlotte walked forward slowly, drawing her sword. Before any of them could close in on the pirate, he brought the gun up to his own skull and fired. Charlotte did not even bat an eye, for the situation seemed all too predictable. He was either going to attempt to fight off the ground troops, or kill himself. What Charlotte was not prepared for was the continuation of it. The man had already inflicted a fatal blow to his own skull, so how was he able to continue on with this suicidal barrage. The pirate could function better than the Aeronauts in their state of shock and horror. Even after shooting himself, he made use of his sword as well by began stabbing himself repeatedly. In that moment, Charlotte knew she could not risk letting the ground troops attack this creature. "Stand back, let no one get close!" She frantically ordered.
What seemed like minutes only lasted about 15 seconds as the bloodied and disfigured body of the pirate fell to the ground. Everyone fell completely silent, even Charlotte. The rogue pirate drew his last gurgling breaths before falling literally dead silent. It was not long before people, including more ground troops had arrived at the scene. Charlotte turned to face Edwin, followed by a moment of silence. "We need to properly investigate the body. See to it that we found out who this man was, and what he-" Before she could finish her sentence, gasps and murmurs from the troops drew attention back to the body. A dark smoky substance seemed to be pervading the air around him, but it did not dissipate like smoke. It was indeed quite odd, and Charlotte had not the slightest clue what she was dealing at that time.
Marcus
October 5th, 1891
Marcus never particularly agreed with his early morning regime, but this morning was much different. He had been awoken by nightmares before dawn had even crept through his barrack windows, nightmares of bloodshed, and malicious shadowy figures. He struggled to fall back asleep, so he swung his legs over his bed, rubbing his face with his hands. He looked up at the clock ticking noisily across the room. 3:57 a.m., what the hell, he thought to himself. Normally Marcus was a heavy sleeper, so for his workmates to find him suited and ready earlier than the rest of them only left them to question. "Marcus, you look exhausted. What's eatin' ye?" A burly fellow patrolman asked him as they began their patrol on the streets of New Toppingham. "I just... had a nightmare is all", He replied. The patrolman leaned close and said "was she that ugly?". The banter between them lifted Marcus' spirits as they marched through the smog-filled city.
October 6th, 1891
His hours were over, and he was about ready to hang up his suit when one of their lieutenant tactical operator stomped firmly through the door. He was a tank of a man, making is presence noticeable before his voice rank out through the room. "Gear on men, we just received word from one of the messenger birds that there was an attack in Ravensford". It took less than a minute for the troops to be out and ready. They followed their tactical operator to one of the Aeronaut airships, ready for takeoff. Once they departed, the tactical operator started barking orders. "The first patrolmen at the scene reported just one rogue pirate to be the perpetrator, said to be carrying a sword and a pistol. We don't know the toll yet, he is still on the move. The cause of this deranged attack is unknown." The airships began to lower, and the airship door swung open. "Let's go men, stay lively!"
Marcus, along with the other ground patrolmen and ground troops filed in a perfect line habitually towards the airship door. The airship was still in mid air, about 15-20 ft. off the ground. The fall could break a regular persons ankles or legs, but the Aeronauts were physically capable for these situations. As Marcus landed, him and his squad formed up in front of the tactical operator awaiting orders. "Squad 1, circle towards the front of the library, squad 2 go into the back streets on the western side of the library and search from there, squad 3, take the eastern side, and squad 4 around the back. Now disperse!"
Marcus and his squad 2 did as commanded. They crept round each and every crevice snd alleyway of the buildings surrounding the library, signaling each other when it was safe to go. Marcus led the squad around tight corners due to his heightened senses. Just as they were coming around a corner, Marcus could hear a faint trembling breath. Marcus raised his hand as a signal, and the other men swiftly came into position. They aimed their guns, only to find a frightened little pig-tailed girl leaning against the library wall. They lowered their guns as she assumed the fetal position, slowly lowering her head between her knees.
Before Marcus had the chance to ask the girl a question, they heard gunfire in the distance. The mangled echoing from off the buildings made it hard for them to pinpoint the sound, but Marcus' ears did not fail him. "It came from back of the library, let's move", said Marcus. The larger procession of ground troops could be heard through Marcus' ears from less than a quarter of a mile away as they went about cautiously through the buildings. Finally they reached their destination. Marcus first caught site of Charlotte Orwell's fiery red hair among the line of Aeronaut troops, but much more red came from the dismembered body of the pirate that lay before them. Marcus and his squad could not believe their eyes as they slowly closed in. The site before him made Marcus' dream from the night before seem a whole lot more significant. He saw the dark smoky substance seeping out from the pirates mouth. The very site of it sent a shiver down to the base of his spine. He'd seen this before, not only in a dream, he knew that for certain.
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bekka
New Member
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Post by bekka on Dec 26, 2015 22:09:08 GMT -5
October 6th, 1891
Victoire found herself swamped in work. The storefront floor was covered in people, children looking at toys and adults finding small trinkets to buy for themselves that could prove useful. Her work bench was crowded, metal pieces piling up and broken gadgets laying underneath. There was also a delivery for the Raven's Watch library. How she wished her father would come down to help, but Lucy was keeping an eye on his broken limb. Victoire blew back her bangs and removed an oil covered apron. Grabbing her delivery, Victoire told a worker, Daniel, to cover for her and take care of the shop while she was out.
The bell rang from behind her as she exited the shop and merged with the crowd walking along the cobblestone streets. The crowd was abuzz with gossip, but Victoire decided not to listen to petty words from people who knew not. Her heeled boots tapped along the cobblestone as she headed to the library. A large crowd had gathered near the towering building. Curiosity washed over Victoire and she pushed her way through the throng of people. Several injured civilians layed on the ground. Doctors and the emergency response team worked like clockwork, healing wounds and taking care of those marred with wounds.
"What happened?" Victoire muttered, watching the people move around. From the corner of her eye, a a black whisp wiggled from the mouth of a pirate. Her eyes widened. "What in the world?" she gasped in awe at the black thing moving around.
Inside the barrier surrounding behind the library, a new remember of the emergency response team, Charlie Granger helped moving the injured to the doctors and doing what he could. He had heard from someone that a pirate decided to start shooting innocent bystanders, resulting in several wounded. It amazing Charlie on how insane others could be.
As he helped another person, Charlie saw what all the others were gasping at. A shadow like whisp was pulling itself out of the pirate. Charlie shook his head, thinking the pressure what getting to him, but it seemed like others around saw what he saw. Several things ran through his mind at once, all including something to do with whatever had been inside that pirate and if that was the cause for all of this.
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hermyoninny
New Member
i miss the old kanye straight from the go kanye chop up the soul kanye set on his goals kanye
Posts: 22
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Post by hermyoninny on Dec 28, 2015 23:39:41 GMT -5
October 6th, 1891
Ansel
The warning sirens cried out a song all around him, their devilish cries shaking Ansel to his very core. Instantly, Ansel stood, his body on high alert. It was like his body was on auto pilot. Weapon, gear, weapon, gear, onn repeat until he seemed satisfied; and then he was racing alongside other Aeronaut response team members, their minds and bodies focused on getting to the airships that would be waiting for them. Another turn of the corner, Ansel could see the airship looming in front of them. He bounded onto the aircraft, searching for a higher up to give him the details, to them the gist of the situation. This was one of the few rare moments Ansel had responded to a call, and it was nerve wracking but accelerating all the same.
Ansel called a man over, a healer by the looks of it. "Yes?" the man questioned, smoothing out his clothing.
"What's the deal?" Ansel asked, switching his weight between the balls of his feet. Ansel took noticed that the man seemed very well in his comfort zone now. Ansel could relate to the man-he felt the same about being in battle.
"A rogue pirate in Ravensford has been reported attacking civilians. There are no deaths as of now, but dozens of townspeople have been wounded and it's up to you to capture him." The man sounded like he was repeating this from a book, but Ansel appreciated the knowledge all the same. He thanked the healer before stalking over to the group of Aeronauts huddled together. He explained the situation to them, his eyes darting back and forth from each face, making sure they were taking this all in.
One of the older men of the group started suggesting preparations and strategies for capturing the culprit. Ansel took this as his queue to start walking around the ship and offering his help. The man's eagerness and organization nearly severed his good mood. Soon, the aircraft arrived at it's destination. The military section of the response team split into groups. Ansel's group was one of the first two jump overboard while the ship was still landing.
The scene on the ground was a blood bath. Bodies of the broken and injured lay against walls, cobblestones, and one another. Bodily fluids of all kinds covered the street in,but the rosy color of blood dominated over the rest. The leader of the group motioned towards some way towards the left, into a back street. Why running along with everyone else, his boot stomped into a metallic pool of blood next to an elderly woman. Her eyes followed him, like in a trance and he stared back, his attention only snapping back to the task at hand when a someone else jerked his shoulder. Shaking his head to rid of the thoughts, he followed the group.
Footsteps echoed around the eerily silent street, and the team came to a halt. Cackling could be heard and a man emerged. He was downed in pirate clothing, that was for sure, but he the wicked expression to his face. He seemed to understand and enjoyed what he just caused, but Ansel saw his brows and lips furrow for a slight second, indicating some kind of pain. The man laughed heartily, his blood splattered clothes shining. "You're never going to catch me!" he taunted.
Just as one of the Aeronauts finally thought to fire a gun, the man leaped to the side, zigzagging down and across the road, heading straight for the large library a few blocks away. Ansel noticed there was a sort of routine to how the man fought. He would laugh, dodge, taunt, and then swiftly withdraw a knife, before throwing it in the direction of a patrol officer. Gritting his teeth, Ansel looked for a way to get ahead of the man, a quick and unnoticeable way to not be seen, but nothing was coming to mind and they were already so close to cornering him at the library. They'd just have to catch him there, perhaps firing all at once and killing him dead, or tackling him to the ground while another gives him a stone cold blow to jaw repeatedly.
The man dodged down towards the back of the library, and Ansel, now near the front with anticipation, raced after him. He could feel his blood pumping, his heart singing in joy at the feeling in his lungs. This was always the moment Ansel felt the most alive, and the only moment all those years of training actually shone. Ansel rounded the corner, finding the man turned around to face him, a smile gracing his lips. Ansel could sense the others around him, more response team members of the other two groups joining them while they finally caught up. Ansel approached slowly, getting into close enough range so he could see the look on the man's face when he shot him; whether it be in the stomach or head.
Circling around him, Ansel took another step forward when a voice rang out, "Stand back, let no one get close!" Momentarily, Ansel glanced over to see a fierce ginger woman. Ansel, reluctantly, took a few steps back to fall in line with his brethren. The man jerked his head around, lifting up a pistol, his fingers poised atop the trigger. Ansel doesn't know what he saw, doesn't even know if he saw anything to signal it, but for a split second something connected in his mind and he jerked his body forward, a word he didn't know on his lips, when the man brought the pistol up to skull and let the trigger go.
The shot rang out-once, twice, three times. The man still seemed intact, his body fidgeting restlessly. He clicked the gun into his skull a fourth time, and then he tried for a fifth time when the gun clicked. He threw it aside and began clawing at his skin, shredding it, tearing it like his own flesh was a chew toy. Ansel took a handful of steps back at this, an unsettling feeling rising in his stomach. He felt disgusted and like he shouldn't be seeing this, like it was forbidden. Growing tired of tearing himself up like cheese, he pulled out another gleaming dagger and stabbing into his torso, into his chest, a few to the neck for good measure. Blood and guts and probably screams of tearing were all being released. Ansel and all the others stared in shock, watching the should be dead man repeatedly cut himself. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the man slumped down, his body and face unrecognizable. Silence rang out, no one even daring to take a breath when an ear splitting scream bounced off the walls, forcing Ansel to look away from the mutilated body and to cover his ears. He turned towards the source to find a raven haired nurse's aide slumped against the wall, staring dead eyed at the corpse.
Ansel turned his attention back towards the corpse, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. He removed his hands from his ears, turned on his heel to promptly shut the woman up when he heard a collective gasp coming from what seemed like every person in the small back street. Ansel looked at the corpse, and saw a black smoke emit from the person's mouth. It seemed to be clawing itself's out, but couldn't quite do it. It didn't look like any smoke Ansel had seemed, and it didn't dissolve like smoke. He watched in horror as it faded away and someone near him say, "What the Hell was that?"
October 6th, 1891
Edith
The day was all going good for Edith. She got to look at several ill patients that were particularly good looking. She was also very excited about the new roll of bandages she got from a new store she's been dying to try out. However, she knew that when the sirens began to roar to life, consuming her entire being with that annoying blare of its, that the storm finally arrived. Of course, she was a nurse's aide, so unless something drastic happened, she wouldn't have the need to be there. Edith should've figured that it exactly what would happen.
"Ms. Grainger, you come as well!" The head nurse of the ward looked at Edith hard.
Edith didn't know whether to feel ecstatic or to cry, because she would be no help on this particular quest. "Yes, ma'am," she responded, following the nurse out the door. She was led to a large airship, and Edith had to take a few steps back to take it all in. Noticing she was to be left in the dust by her companion, she picked up her pace and fell into step with her superior, boarding the ship. She was ordered to help the other's preparing, not even given the chance to question what was going on. Obediently, she followed their orders. She was so busy on the preparations she didn't even notice that they had landed, that was until another nursing aide tapped her shoulder and jerked her head towards the scene awaiting them.
A gasp escaped Edith's throat. Delicate hands flew up to cover her gaping mouth and she could feel a lump burning a hole in her esophagus, like she forgot to swallow hot curry and it just sat their and burned and burned and burned her. The people weren't dying, just close to it. Pools of blood, vomit, maybe even feces and urine covered the street. She couldn't tell, but it sent a sick feeling through her and she had to grip the other nurse's aide to keep on her feet. The nurse's aide helped her off the ship and shoved her towards another group. The wounds, the horrible wounds, and oh God, the stench. How couldn't she have noticed the stench?
Thankfully, she wouldn't be the one's sticking their hands into people's insides, she would be doing all the extra work, like wrapping the person back up and boarding them on the ship and so on. Not daring to look at the one's whom deep cuts had not been healed, she went over to the other two girls twirling a roll of bandages around a man. She didn't even look at his face to see if he was handsome. Edith helped them, and to keep her mind away from what was underneath, she focused her mind on the other's around her.
She caught snippets of conversations, mostly just asking for more whatever. However, when she tuned into the conversation with the nearby Doctor Winchester, the head of the emergency response team, and another healer did she catch something that caught her attention. He looked like something big was happening, something that tore even Doctor Winchester away from her work. Edith looked back down at the fat woman that lay on the ground, being patched up. Making a quick decision, she stood up and brushed off her clothing. "I'm going to see if other groups need more assistance," she told the others. They nodded, barely acknowledging her.
She followed behind the two, keeping a distance so she wouldn't be seen. It seemed they were heading towards the library, so Edith took her own path and kept close to the building, catching a Doctor Winchester and the male dodging behind. Following them quickly, she ducked into the back of the grand prefecture. Quite a large group of Aeronaut patrolmen stood surrounding a mutilated body. Edith stared at the body, not being able to tell whether it was male or female at this point, not being able to tear her eyes away. A scream caught in her throat, not releasing itself but suffocating her nonetheless.
She stared dead eyed at the body, watching the smoke curl out it's mouth, curling around itself like it could feel pain. It didn't disappear quite quickly, like normal smoke, and Edith could feel a shiver creep up her spine. Like she was far away, she thought she felt her breathing get heavier and quicker, like she needed more air than what was being given to her. At last, the young girl took notice that what she once thought was smoke, was black, and it puffed out of the man's mouth like a demon and dissolved like one's life leaving their eyes-slowly but surely.
That's when she slumped against the wall and screamed.
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Post by thetreebarks on Dec 30, 2015 13:18:27 GMT -5
October 6th, 1891
After draining her 7th consecutive cup of coffee, Selah turned her attention toward to task at hand- creating an efficient plant watering filtration system for the city. Given the copious amounts of pollution that flood Hourglass city's water supply, a system that filtered and reused water was imperative to improving the health of it's citizens. Of course, before she could create a water filtration system for the city, she needed to test it out on a smaller scale, and her plants just happened to be the perfect experimental object. A loud shriek broke her concentration. A bit annoyed, she glanced out the window, wondering if there was something she could invent to shut up these stupid children. Picking up her pen, she continued mapping out her system, when she heard more screams, this time hitting a more hysterical pitch. This was when she realized that these were not the screams of children at play, but the screams of someone in pain. Although she typically would not be the first one to rush to such a scene, curiosity got the best of her. She would not get in the way, but instead, would stand to the side and observe. The noise was coming from behind the Raven's Watch Library, one of her favorite places to go. Donning her coat, she rushed toward the chaos. The scene she came across was quite gruesome and disturbing. There was blood everywhere, and if you looked closely enough, you could see a man laying in the middle of the mess, quietly whimpering. She could not break eye-contact with him. Death, being inevitable for every living creature, was upon his doorstep, slowly dragging him away with Selah as a witness. She had seen death before. Depending on the person, it could be peaceful, although most of the time, it came about violently, with the victim fighting back with the little life left in them. Oddly enough, once this man quit screaming, he seemed to go rather peacefully. Life faded from his eyes, allowing her to look away. She had, yet again, watched a human fade into another world. She looked down and noticed that blood stained her shoes.
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Post by alicia on Dec 31, 2015 18:35:00 GMT -5
Nathaniel
October 6th, 1891
Nathaniel saw more Aeronauts approaching. The Shade in his head decided that it was time to leave and quietly slipped away before the Aeronauts arrived. The Shade was searching for Shayde, reaching out with its mind until it found him. Although the Shade didn't say anything, Nathaniel sensed that it was frustrated-frustrated at what, Nathaniel couldn't say. The Shade hurried back to the rooftop where the airship was concealed, running as fast as it dared to with people still milling about. It was anxious and apprehensive, and Nathaniel wondered if this would present some sort of opportunity for him.
The crowds gradually started to thin out. It was getting late, and most of the people in Ravensford were beginning to make their way back to their homes for the night. The Shade increased its pace, tapping into Nathaniel's enhanced endurance. His feet flew up stairs that hugged the sides of the buildings and across walkways and rooftops. After maybe one hour of running, the Shade was panting, and sweat dripped down Nathaniel's face. But they had arrived at the Shade's destination.
The Shade ignored the airship for the time being, instead entering the building via a stairway that went down from the roof. Inside, the Shade went back to the room where Shayde kept his shadow jars and other parchments that he deemed important enough to hide in the building. The building itself was practically falling apart; nobody had inhabited it for years now, and most of the doors were hanging off of its hinges while the windows were broken or missing, but Shayde had furnished the one specific room as well as added a lock to the door. The Shade fished through Nathaniel's coat pocket until it located the small key. The lock was specially designed so that picking it would be especially difficult. The Shade did not know how it worked, and at that moment, it did not particularly care.
The room was completely dark. The Shade felt its way to the desk, where it ran Nathaniel's hands across the underside of one of the drawers, feeling for a slight crack in the wood. It pulled up the panel of wood, revealing the hidden compartment, which had four shadow jars in it. The Shade grabbed them and hastily went back up to the roof again, pausing only to lock the door as it ran. Nathaniel took note of the Shade's nervousness with a mounting sense of anticipation mixed with alarm. The Shade rushed inside the stolen airship and into the cockpit. It hastily stuffed the shadow jars, which seemed to vibrate with some unseen energy, into the sack that also contained Nathaniel's belongings from his quarters in Peripoint. Guilt seemed to stab Nathaniel in the gut as he remembered the Aeronaut Guild; it seemed like years had passed since the Shade forced Nathaniel's desertion, when in reality, it had been less than a week. Nathaniel was sure that the Aeronaut Guild and his family were frantic; Nathaniel could only hope that they would let him back into the Guild after he got the Shade out of his head.
That is not the wisest assumption that you have ever made, the Shade remarked in response to Nathaniel's thoughts. Nathaniel felt his resolve harden and did not reply. The Shade started the airship and flew it out into the open sky. There were not many airships over Ravensford, and the sight of the lone airship flying through the air must have seemed quite odd to the casual passerby, but the Shade did not care. It was in a rush to find something, and Nathaniel could sense that its worry was rising with each passing second. They sped through the air out of Ravensford and into Peripoint. An anguished feeling seemed to wrap itself around Nathaniel as he looked down on the familiar rooftops of Peripoint.
Soon enough, they were approaching the shore of the Steam Sea. Airship and steam ship docks lined the coastline. The Shade flew north past the piers and wharves and to the northwest limit of Hourglass City. The Shade began to slow down, searching for a suitable place to land the airship. It spotted a flat piece of land near the outer edge of the city and lowered the airship in place. The engine fell silent and the propellers slowed. The Shade ran out of the cockpit and abovedecks, then off of the airship itself. The area was deserted; even the hustle and bustle of New Toppingham did not reach this part of Hourglass City. Airships streaked across the sky overhead, headed for the Junkyard Jungles or the Clockwork Cliffs. Nobody ever bothered going to the Wastelands, where four great cities had once stood.
The Shade stopped walking and simply stood there, waiting. Waiting for what, though, Nathaniel wasn't sure of. He got his answer maybe half an hour later when a fast-approaching figure began to materialize in the darkness. Even from quite a bit of distance away, Nathaniel could tell that he was panting heavily. The Shade moved to meet the figure, who had stopped to catch his breath. He was doubled over, gasping for air. Nathaniel realized with alarm that it was Shayde.
"Sir, are you headed for the Wastelands?" The Shade spoke with Nathaniel's voice, its voice flat and devoid of any emotion. Shayde looked up, surprised-and Nathaniel saw that it couldn't be Shayde, despite the fact that his features were the same. Where Shayde was cool and composed, this man seemed like he was shaking uncontrollably, unsteady on his feet and his gaze wild.
The Shade saw this too. Bloody hell, just as I suspected-Lucius is back, the Shade said, more to itself than to Nathaniel.
Who is Lucius? Nathaniel demanded. The Shade did not reply. Nathaniel noticed with a start that the man was acting like Shayde had first acted when Nathaniel found him sprawled on the ground with the empty bottle of whiskey.
The man who was Shayde yet not Shayde straightened up and backed away from them. He glanced at Nathaniel's hair-which had been dyed black-and back at his face. "Not...not you again...fuck," he gasped before he broke out into a run, this time in the direction he'd come from. The Shade sighed in irritation and chased him down, Nathaniel's natural super speed easily allowing it to overtake the man. The Shade reached out and grabbed Lucius's arm, bringing him to a full stop. He desperately tried to free himself of Nathaniel's grasp by twisting and writhing frantically, to no avail. The Shade held on firmly. "Y'fucking piece of shit, let me go," Lucius growled. The Shade's gaze strayed to Lucius's sleeves, which were covered in dried blood. Seeing this, Lucius began to struggle even more.
"Sir, please calm down. I am not going to take you into custody," the Shade said. Again, Nathaniel's voice was flat and emotionless.
Lucius gave Nathaniel an incredulous look. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?" Lucius seemed to regain control over himself, and he stopped squirming. "What the hell do you want from me? I've done nothing wrong."
"Yes. I know that. Like I said before, I am not going to take you into custody. I am simply going to bring you to the Wastelands. Was that not your original destination this entire time?" Lucius gave Nathaniel a chilly look, his blue-green eyes shuttered and unreadable.
"And like I said before, do you really think I'm that stupid?" the panic was gone from Lucius's voice, and Nathaniel was beginning to think that maybe Shayde was back. Although Nathaniel had no idea how Shayde would even "leave" in the first place.
The Shade gave a long-suffering sigh. Shayde really wasn't exaggerating,it thought out loud. Nathaniel stayed silent, utterly confused by what he was seeing. "No. No, sir, I do not. However, I have been told that you are intending to go to the Wastelands. Will you come peaceably, or will I have to forcibly take you there?"
Lucius's cool gaze swept over Nathaniel's face, which the Shade held in a bland, almost bored expression. "I will come," he finally said.
The Shade released Lucius's arm. "Right this way, please," he said, giving Lucius a slight nudge forward to the airship. Lucius began to walk, slowly and deliberately, with the Shade patiently following him. They had almost made it to the gangplank of the airship when Lucius abruptly turned around and grabbed Nathaniel's wrist with his left hand and twisted it so that Nathaniel's palm was facing upwards. Something silver glinted in his right hand in the faint moonlight as he brought it down sharply. The Shade caught Lucius's right wrist just inches above Nathaniel's forearm, taking full advantage of Nathaniel's lightning-fast reflexes. "Sir. I ask you again; will you come peaceably or not?" Despite all that had happened, Nathaniel's voice was monotone and completely uninterested.
No answer. Lucius seemed to be gritting his teeth, straining against Nathaniel's vise-like grip. The Shade sighed again, freed Nathaniel's wrist from Lucius's grasp and let go of Lucius before knocking him out cold with a blow to the side of his head. Lucius crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The Shade inspected the syringe in Lucius's right hand before pocketing it. It picked Lucius up like he weighed less than a feather and brought him onboard the airship. The Shade left Lucius on one of the beds in a cabin, ensuring that he was as comfortable as possible. Then, it walked back to the cockpit, started the airship, and flew away into the night.
October 7th, 1891
The Shade had been flying for quite some time now. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, infusing streaks of pale pink into the watercolor-blue sky. Nathaniel had never been outside of the city, and he was momentarily distracted by the scenery passing below him-the Steam Sea lapping up against the shore, the mountains rising up proudly in the east, and the rugged terrain sandwiched in between the Steam Sea and the mountains that indicated the start of the Junkyard Jungle. Out here, the brush grew wild and free, with dull brown and beige and a dusty sort of green being the predominant colors. Scraggly trees dotted the landscape, and large patches of purple wildflowers could sometimes be seen. There was a desolate sort of beauty to the unnamed stretch of land.
Nathaniel saw no sign of humans throughout the flight. It seemed like nobody had ever bothered with the area, and he could see why; even from his height, the land seemed rocky and hostile, and the soil unsuitable for farming. There were also no sources of freshwater, and clearing away the brush would have posed another challenge.
After another five or six hours of constant flying, they were at the outer border of the Wastelands. The land had begun to turn drier and the brush had started to thin out. The ground seemed to be littered with technological junk, even this far out, although the aforementioned technological junk was small-just broken gears and the like. The Shade landed the airship. It went back to the cabin where it had left Lucius. When it entered, Lucius was already awake, looking out of the porthole in the cabin.
"So you really weren't lying when you said you would take me to the Wastelands, were you?" Lucius asked quietly without turning around, his gaze fixed on the inhospitable desert.
"No."
Lucius exhaled and turned to face Nathaniel and the Shade. "Nathaniel Enright would have never flown out to the Wastelands without express orders, let alone bring along a supposed drunkard for the ride. Nathaniel Enright would have slammed me behind bars last night without hesitation. Your appearance leads me to believe that you are indeed Nathaniel Enright, yet your actions say otherwise. So, Nathaniel Enright-that is, if you really are Nathaniel Enright-would you care to explain?"
Nathaniel sensed the Shade's hesitation. "Sir, for all intents and purposes, I am Nathaniel Enright," the Shade replied. "The voice you hear is his. The face you see, the strength and speed that has been used against you, they are all his. But control over these things is not his, at least not while I am Nathaniel Enright," the Shade said using Nathaniel's mouth.
Lucius frowned slightly. "So...you are Nathaniel, but you are not Nathaniel at the same time?"
The Shade nodded. "That is correct, sir. I assure you, it will all make sense in a little while. We will be arriving at our destination within the day."
"And how do I know that this isn't some elaborate ploy to get at me?"
"I do not know how you will know, and frankly-with all due respect, sir-I do not particularly care. If you will cooperate, I will leave you be. If you will not, then I will knock you unconscious again. It does not make a difference either way." The Shade moved to exit the cabin.
Lucius cleared his throat. "Wait." The Shade paused and looked back at him. "I...I'll cooperate. Could I see where we are going, from the cockpit? I...I promise that I won't do anything but look."
He's going to try something, Nathaniel thought.
I know, the Shade answered. He is rather irksome when he is Lucius. However, he will not be Lucius forever.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? Nathaniel snapped in an uncharacteristically uncontrolled tone. The entire ordeal with Shayde and losing control over his body and being introduced to a man who was two people at once had frayed at his patience.
It is none of your concern.
"Yes, you may, sir," the Shade responded. Lucius got to his feet shakily, and the Shade reached out to steady him. Lucius stiffened, and then he relaxed when realized that Nathaniel was not going to attack him or anything like that. The two of them-three, counting Nathaniel himself-made their way back to the cockpit. Lucius stood silently beside Nathaniel, taking in everything all at once, while the Shade started the airship and rose swiftly into the air.
*****
Over the course of the next seven or eight hours, Lucius did not say a single word. Neither did the Shade, and Nathaniel was left alone with his thoughts. The ruins of the Wasteland cities rose up out of the sandy landscape-first they passed what only could have been Steamfall, due to the charred remains, and then Obsididrift and Terraburn, which were conglomerations of half-standing buildings and pieces of clockwork automatons. Finally, they reached Gearinggate Harbor, which was the northernmost of the Wasteland cities and right by the Steam Sea. As they disembarked, Nathaniel felt a chill run down his spine-Gearinggate Harbor was mostly intact, but there was a sinister and dark aura to the empty buildings and deserted streets. Night had fallen, and the winds were strong this close to the ground, whipping sand and dust and grit and pieces of former automatons into Nathaniel's face.
"Well, we are here," Lucius said. "What am I supposed to be looking for that will suddenly make everything sensible?"
The Shade shrugged with Nathaniel's shoulders. "We will watch and wait," was all it said in response.
Genevieve
October 6th, 1891
Genevieve cast a quick glance around the group assembled. She raised an eyebrow at the two pirates who had arrived, identifiable by their mechanical wings. Other than the Aeronauts sent by Captain Seward, there were two rather pretty young women whom Genevieve did not recognize, a man with glasses who was accompanying one of the young women, and a man with a very eccentric look to him. There was also a raven-haired healer who served as an aide at the hospital. I think I know her from somewhere, besides the fact that she works at the hospital, she thought to herself, taking a step backwards as the girl screamed, her voice filled with terror. However, what her name was, Genevieve could not say. Finally, Genevieve noticed the woman with wavy auburn hair who seemed to be staring intently at the dead pirate.
"I have no idea what the smokey thing was... but I saw that he was going mad, saw that he was trying to hurt everyone in his path, for revenge, anger, or pure evil, I am not sure. But suddenly it was as if he was fighting with himself, and then he turned his violence towards his own body, and ended his life. I rushed down only seconds after it happened, but I have no idea if he said anything that could indicate what he was experiencing or why it was happening," the young women with dark strawberry-blonde hair said in response to Genevieve's questions.
Genevieve looked at her. She didn't seem too terribly frightened by the gruesome scene, despite what one might think based on her almost dainty appearance. The bespectacled man behind her seemed to be more affected by the bloody sight. Even Genevieve, who had been shoving her hands into peoples' insides for decades now, felt slightly disturbed by the entire situation.
Genevieve sighed. "Yes, it seems like that is the case," she replied. Nobody else said anything, and Genevieve was spared from trying to gather more information by the arrival of Captain Seward, with Walter and a brown-haired man following close behind.
The red-haired Aeronaut captain assessed the situation calmly, her face set in stone. Genevieve frowned slightly, remembering the thing that had pulled itself out of the pirate. She was by no means an expert in automation, but it had seemed strikingly similar to the descriptions of the black magic the scientists of Gearinggate Harbor had attempted to use in order to create clockwork armies. Of course, that certainly hadn't ended well; Gearinggate Harbor was overrun by the same black magic that they tried to harness just a few years after its scientists created the first clockwork man. And black magic in Hourglass City was an absurd notion. The scientists of Hourglass City had never figured out how to harness it. Besides, they had been forced to destroy all of their experiments with clockwork men in 1865. It was simply impossible.
And yet...what other explanation could there be for the smoky substance which had come out of the pirate's mouth? A glance at Captain Seward's eyes told Genevieve that she was thinking the same thing, despite the fact that her face showed no visible emotion. One of the Aeronauts sent ahead by Captain Seward materialized at her side and whispered something to her. Captain Seward let out an audible sigh and moved to the space in between the ring formed around the dead pirate and the pirate's corpse, stopping when she was next to Genevieve. "Doctor Winchester, have you been briefed on the situation?" Captain Seward asked in a low voice.
Genevieve nodded. "Yes, I have. I would leave the rest of this to you, but this is disturbingly similar to..." Genevieve trailed off. Captain Seward made a faint noise of agreement. So Genevieve had been correct; both of them suspected that black magic was at work here, although it technically should have been unfathomable.
"We are going to have to keep this down. It would do no good for the people to be panicking because of the slim possibility that someone was using black magic in the city, especially after what happened in Gearinggate Harbor," Captain Seward replied, her voice soft enough so that only the two of them could hear what she was saying.
Genevieve saw the wisdom in that, though she did not like the idea of hiding things from the rest of the populace. However, that was an issue that was beyond her authority. "Alright. But what about the eyewitnesses?"
Captain Seward furrowed her brow ever-so-slightly. She fell silent, and Genevieve let her think. The Aeronaut captain sighed again before turning to face the crowd gathered. Shielded as they were from the rest of Ravensford and the carnage and destruction that lay at the front of the Raven's Watch by the ground patrol and the library itself, Captain Seward was able to raise her voice to address the entire group at once. "Due to the nature of recent events, I am going to have to ask you all to refrain from speaking about this with people who are not currently present." Gesturing to the brown-haired, middle-aged man who had moved next to her, Captain Seward continued. "Mr. Vallance, a member of the Scholar Guild who works with me in situations like this one, has taken note of your names and places of residence. You will be contacted shortly about this. In the mean time, it would be the best for all of us if you kept this quiet." Ernest Vallance-a scholar with the ability to access the memories of others-offered the group a bland smile, his eyes neutral behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
Captain Seward turned away from the crowd, and murmurs began to fill the air as the people processed what the Aeronaut captain had said. "Doctor Winchester, I apologize for keeping you away from your work. I will handle this from here on out," Captain Seward said.
"Of course. Good luck," Genevieve answered her. She motioned for Walter and the black-haired aide to follow her back to the front of the library.
Genevieve returned to her post as if nothing had happened, falling into a familiar routine. Locate the most severe wounds, heal so that the victim has a good chance of surviving, send them onboard, repeat. By the time that everyone was cleared out, the sky was pitch-black and the area in front of the library had been completely emptied. Genevieve was exhausted. Sweat plastered her hair to her face, and she had begun to feel faint. She walked onboard one of the airships and went belowdecks, gratefully accepting the glass of water offered. There were basins of water set out on a table. Genevieve put her hands into one of them, doing her best to scrub the blood off.
They arrived at the Cindergate Hospital, and Genevieve waited until all the injured had been cleared off of the airships before going back to her own office. Five minutes later, Walter as back. "How is it out there?" she asked him.
"Not as bad as it could have been, all things considered," he replied. Walter looked just about as exhausted as Genevieve felt. "There are sixty-seven injured, with eleven that are still in critical condition. It is estimated that they will be cleared within twenty-four hours."
"Are there any dead?" Genevieve questioned apprehensively.
Walter shook his head. Genevieve let out a long sigh of relief, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. "Has Alexander and his team arrived?" she said, referring to the night shift of the emergency response team.
"Yes, they have. They are working with the victims of the rogue pirate's attack as we speak," Walter responded.
Genevieve nodded slightly. "Good, good. You may go now." Walter turned around and moved to leave her office. "Oh, Walter?" the sound of Genevieve's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Doctor Winchester?"
"You heard what Captain Seward said today, yes?"
"Yes I did, Doctor Winchester," he answered.
"Alright. Have a good night," Genevieve said, and Walter left. After ensuring that everything was functioning properly, Genevieve left as well for her small apartment about two minutes' walk from the Cindergate Hospital, and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
October 9th, 1891
A couple days after the pirate's attack, Genevieve was summoned to Peripoint by a clock-bird bearing the insignia of the emergency response team. Genevieve had been eating breakfast when the bird flew up against her window. She got up and let the clock-bird in, and removed the parchment from its beak before sending it back on its way to Peripoint. As she had expected, it was an official summoning to the office of the emergency response team that was located in Peripoint. The parchment read:
"Doctor Genevieve Minerva Winchester:
You are being summoned to the office of the emergency response team of Hourglass City located on 49218 Blade Boulevard in Peripoint (do not confuse this with the office of the emergency response team located in Cindergate). Please arrive promptly on October 10th, 1891, at 9:00 AM. Thank you for your cooperation."
Genevieve recognized Captain Seward's signature at the bottom. Genevieve sat there with the official summons for quite some time, staring out into the busy streets of Cindergate and brooding over the implications of the smoky substance and the dead pirate.
October 10th, 1891
Nine o'clock in the morning found Genevieve sitting in the waiting area in front of Captain Seward's office. Genevieve was a bit surprised to learn that Captain Seward herself was handling this, as opposed to the investigation branch of the Aeronaut Guild, but she supposed that by "keeping it down" Captain Seward meant even from the rest of her own guild. She was puzzled to find that Walter had not been summoned, but the black-haired aide (Edith Grainger, as Genevieve had discovered the day after the attack) had. Captain Seward has quite an efficient method to her madness, Genevieve reminded herself. I'm sure that she has her own reasons for summoning some of us and not others.
The fine mahogany door to Captain Seward's office opened, and Ernest Vallance gestured for Genevieve to come in. Genevieve stood up, smoothed out the long skirt she wore, and walked inside. Captain Seward's office was sparse and functional, with no sign of decoration. "Doctor Winchester. Please, sit down," Captain Seward said, motioning to the wooden chair in front of the desk. Genevieve sat, and Captain Seward shuffled through a stack of parchment. She cleared her throat. "I need you to tell me everything you know, and explain how you ended up in the same place as the rogue pirate," Captain Seward said. Genevieve felt that the formality of this was a tad ridiculous, as Captain Seward obviously knew what Genevieve had been doing and why she was there, but she went along with it anyway.
Genevieve took a deep breath before beginning. "I had responded to the reports that dozens had been injured by a rogue pirate in front of the Raven's Watch library. Upon arriving, I had only just started healing when a Patho-healer named Walter told me that there was something I needed to see. I followed him behind the library, where the pirate was already dead, and the smoky thing was jerking itself out of the pirate's mouth. Walter told me that the pirate had committed suicide."
Captain Seward nodded. She hadn't even bothered to write anything down. "Mr. Vallance, could you please go see if anyone else has arrived yet?" she asked. The bespectacled man nodded and exited the office. Captain Seward leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "Doctor Winchester, you know as well as I that the smoky thing was not...normal. To be completely honest, I have no idea what to do. I have contacted the Council about it, but it may be some time before they respond." Here, Captain Seward hesitated, and Genevieve could tell that she was slightly nervous about what she was going to say next. Genevieve felt a niggling of concern-Captain Seward, nervous? That was like the sun suddenly turning cold, or Hourglass City being completely pollution-free. "I apologize for imposing this on you, however, I see no other way to go about doing this. Doctor Winchester, would you mind getting in touch with the other eyewitnesses summoned and asking them to...I don't know, to try their best to gather more information about this?" Captain Seward sighed heavily. "I believe that they may be more responsive to you, since you are not a member of the Aeronaut Guild. I admit, I do have another reason for asking this of you; there would be no way for me to do this without the Aeronaut Guild becoming suspicious. I do not want to cause a false alarm, and I would prefer not to have word of this get out before we are certain that it is truly black magic that we are dealing with."
Genevieve took in Captain Seward's request, her expression unreadable. Me? Ask the other witnesses? I suppose I could...Genevieve glanced at Captain Seward's face. She seemed extremely weary. There was no doubt that Captain Seward had thought a great deal about the smoky substance and the dead pirate; Genevieve had done the same. "Yes, I will do it," Genevieve answered. "I am not sure if we will be able to get a...a solid answer, but I will try."
Captain Seward nodded. "Thank you, Doctor Winchester. Here is a list of the pertinent witnesses," she continued, pushing a piece of parchment into Genevieve's hands. "You do not need to worry about the Aeronauts on the list, as I will be able to talk to them."
"Thank you. I will keep you updated on the situation," Genevieve replied before walking out of the Aeronaut captain's office, her mind racing.
*****
After spending the rest of the day in various hospital wards, Genevieve sat down in her office, staring at the parchment Captain Seward had given her. There was no way that Genevieve had access to any sort of clock-bird that had all the addresses programmed into it already; she would have to deliver messages herself.
With such an enormous task in front of her, Genevieve immediately set to work. First, she created a "template" message of sorts, which read:
"(insert name here):
I am sure that by now, you have been asked to tell Captain Seward everything you know about what happened a couple days ago behind the Raven's Watch library. To be entirely truthful, neither Captain Seward nor I have any idea with what we are dealing with. I am requesting that you do not speak about this message or the dead pirate with anyone who was not involved. I am also requesting that you attempt to look more into this to the best of your ability. If that is just not possible for you to do, then I understand, but please let me know as soon as possible. I will be in touch.
Many thanks, Genevieve Winchester"
Philomena Shoreditch and Victoire Porter were the only Craftsmen on the list. Genevieve included at the end a small note about the decorated books with information about the black magic discovered in Gearinggate Harbor that had been popular during the Wasteland Wars to help them along. The decorated books were given intricately designed metal cases, which had fetched quite a price in the 1850s. Genevieve did not know if any of them still existed, but if they did, it would be one of the Craftsmen who knew about them.
For the two pirates, Genevieve asked if they knew the rogue pirate at all, and if so, to tell her what he was like and what he did for a living. She also asked that they keep an eye out for anything else that seemed like it was related to the smoky substance.
For the two scholars and the scientist from the Automation Guild, Genevieve asked that they do research about the Wasteland Wars, especially the black magic that had destroyed Gearinggate Harbor.
Finally, all Genevieve had left was Edith. Genevieve simply asked that Edith help her deliver the other letters and dropped Edith's letter off with the nurse working above Edith, instructing her to give Edith the message as soon as possible.
When all was said and done, Genevieve returned to her office and sat down heavily. She was a healer, not an investigator, but it appeared that Genevieve would have to get used to this kind of work if the smoky thing was truly a product of black magic.
Summary: Your character is summoned to Captain Seward's office sometime during the day on October 10th. She asks them why they were in the area and what they know, keeping Ernest Vallance (a Scholar who can access people's memories) close by in case someone decides to lie. Sometime in between October 11th and October 15th, your character(s) receive the message from Genevieve, and they should respond to it before October 20th. As for the Aeronauts, Captain Seward will fill them in on everything and basically ask them to keep an eye out for other people going rogue and signs of the Shades. So basically just get the message after returning from whole Shade and pirate shebang and you can have your character begin their research or whatever if you want!
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Post by Aliswag on Dec 31, 2015 20:21:13 GMT -5
Philomena October 9th, 1891
Philomena's fingers trembled with effort as she contorted a particularly stubborn piece of metal. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she stood from her sturdy worktable to stretch her legs. It had been a tumultuous past few days, and she found herself feeling quite drained from all of the excitement. In fact, she hadn't even visited her dear friend Bash since the day of the attack. It had all happened so quickly that she found the memory to be a bit of a haze, like she was watching through stained glass rather than the plain glass window of Bash's home. Heaving a sigh, the young woman walked from her work corner to a worn out velvet couch where she plopped herself down tiredly. That day she had made eight pocket watches, and earlier she had sold four of them when she took them to Irving's shop. He always got far more business than she could ever dream of. Perhaps one day she would have so many customers, but she highly doubted it; her baubles and clocks were lovely, but they were not as fancy as the upper-class so dearly desired.
She pushed her hair off her neck and pulled it into a braid. There was work to do after all. Although she made clocks and pocketwatches, she also dabbled in jewelry and repairs. It was a skill learned by necessity in an attempt to fix the few possessions that she had left from her parents. At that time she hadn’t possessed the means to pay for repairs, so she had painstakingly learned how to do them herself. Now that she actually possessed skill in it, she found that lower class women would barter with her to get their own trinkets and jewelry pieces fixed. So Philomena was never without fresh bread or scavenged pieces of metal from one thing or another. It didn’t make her any more money, but she never wanted to be rich.
As she returned to her workspace, there was a heavy knock on her door. It was either Irving or her Landlady; it was the latter, with an envelope in her grizzled old hands. “A message was left for you in my office Miss Shoreditch, and since I had nothing to do I decided to deliver it personally.” She gave Philomena a smile missing quite a few teeth, and Philomena smiled genuinely back. As the old woman left, Philomena closed her door and sat back down. Her hands deftly opened the envelope, only to find a short missive.
"Craftswoman Philomena Marie Shoreditch:
You are being summoned to the office of the emergency response team of Hourglass City located on 49218 Blade Boulevard in Peripoint (do not confuse this with the office of the emergency response team located in Cindergate). Please arrive promptly on October 10th, 1891, at 9:30 AM. Thank you for your cooperation."
It was signed by a Captain Seward. A frown appeared on Philomena's lips, but she decided it must be quite important if someone had actually delivered it to her landlord. And Captain Seward was obviously a very powerful person. The young woman went back to her tinkering but found that she could not concentrate on the task at hand. Instead she was left wondering about what Captain Seward could possible want. It likely had something to do with the attack that had happened three days prior, but she hadn’t been nearly knowledgeable enough to warrant an interview, had she?
Philomena Shoreditch went to sleep that night curious about tomorrow.
October 10th, 1891
Nine o’clock the following morning found Philomena smoothing her strawberry blonde hair and straightening her blouse as she briskly walked the streets towards Peripoint. It was a dim day, and Philomena couldn’t help but wonder what she would be asked. If Sebastian had been with her, she would have dealt with it more analytically or logically, but without his level head, the girl couldn’t stop herself from being curious and allowing her thoughts to run wildly. “Really Lo, calm your imagination,” she muttered the words under her breath as she climbed the steps to the office of the emergency response team.
Inside, there was a small waiting room in which she sat herself down in. She was fourteen minutes early, and therefore had time to compose her ever racing imagination. But those fourteen minutes flew by quicker than she had anticipated, and suddenly she was being called into Captain Seward’s office by a man that she did not know. It was sparse of decoration and felt like an interrogation cell rather than a place of work, and immediately Philomena felt quite disconcerted by her surroundings.
Sitting in a chair, straight backed and possessing a presence that demanded attention, was Captain Seward, who observed her with what appeared to be disinterest. The man stood silently in the corner, his keen eyes watching her every movement. It felt as if he would know her every secret if she only made eye contact with him; and she had no desire for this stranger to know her deepest thoughts. So she kept her eyes firmly on the single out of place hair on the Captain’s head.
"Miss Shoreditch. Please, sit down," Captain Seward said, nodding to the wooden chair in front of the desk. Philomena followed the instruction quickly, nodding and sitting without hesitation. Captain Seward let a small smirk slip through before it disappeared one moment later. She glanced onto her own desk before she shuffled through a stack of parchment. The imposing woman cleared her throat. "I must ask you to tell me everything you know, and explain how you ended up in the same place as the rogue pirate," Captain Seward said in a voice that was crisp and official.
“Well, I told the healer there, Doctor Winchester, that is, what I saw. Should I repeat it for you? Or…?” Philomena felt herself pause over her words.
“I need you to tell me the entire story of October the sixth; how you got there, what you saw, and what you know from it.” Although her words were clearer, Philomena still found herself struggling to give an answer, the memories were still in an unclear haze, but she would try to puzzle it out for the sake of authority.
“Well, I was in one of the living quarters in Ravensford, visiting my close friend there. His window looks directly onto the street where the entire occurance took place, you see. And as I don’t quite like his little home, I was staring out the window, daydreaming, when I looked down onto the street. For some reason, a man was trying to attack innocent citizens, and they were trying to flee. But often the man seemed to be fighting with himself, as if something else was controlling him and he didn’t quite want it. Finally, he killed himself, quite violently, might I add, and I grabbed my friend and we went to the street where it occurred. It was quite bloody and the people were hurt quite bad, and suddenly something dark and evil swirled from his mouth, practically jerked out of his body, and then all was still.” Philomena let out a breath, happy that she could recall all that had happened.
Captain Seward’s sharp eyes widened a bit. “How do you know it was evil, Miss Shoreditch?”
“Because I felt it, when I saw the darkness I felt cold and scared and overtakken. Whatever it was was evil; perhaps I am wrong, but I felt evil when I saw that thing, and I wish I had never witnessed the darkness leave that man’s body.” Philomena shuddered a bit but gave the Captain a smile. “Is that all Captain Seward?” The woman nodded towards Philomena, and the girl stood and straightened her blouse once more.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Shoreditch.”
Philomena left the room and prayed that the whole business would be over with soon. But how wrong she would turn out to be.
October 12th, 1891
Another cloudy day dawned, and Philomena found herself receiving another message once more. She opened it and read through it quickly, wondering when this would all be over, as it had something to do with the dreaded October sixth.
“Philomena Shoreditch:
I am sure that by now, you have been asked to tell Captain Seward everything you know about what happened a couple days ago behind the Raven's Watch library. To be entirely truthful, neither Captain Seward nor I have any idea with what we are dealing with. I am requesting that you do not speak about this message or the dead pirate with anyone who was not involved. I am also requesting that you attempt to look more into this to the best of your ability. If that is just not possible for you to do, then I understand, but please let me know as soon as possible. I will be in touch.
Many thanks, Genevieve Winchester"
For a moment, Philomena considered not writing back to Genevieve Winchester, but her concious would not allow her to be so abominably rude to the woman. For a few moments she tried to think of what she possibly knew about the evil energy she felt, or the dead pirate, but there was little she could do for them. The young woman felt too tired to begin tinkering, and instead went to the bookshelf that had been in the apartment from the moment she had begun to rent it. All of the books on it had been there since at least the 1840s, and many were covered in a thick layer of dust besides the ones that were fantastical stories of romance and adventures.
Her eye was caught by one book that had an intricate metal cover, it was always locket and so she had never bothered with it, but now… she grabbed the book from the self, sending up a cloud of dust that left her coughing and sneezing. After recovering, she turned it over and wiped the dust from the front. Engraved in a delicate script was the title, ‘Dark Magic for the Curious Soul.’
Philomena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had no idea what the book entailed, but in her heart she knew that it had something to do with the evil darkness that she had seen nearly a week prior. But before she could do anything with it, she had to find a way to unlock it. She flexed her fingers and prepared to destroy the lock.
Sebastian
October 10th, 1891
Sebastian watched as the familiar figure of his friend Philomena cut down the street, eyes on the sky and absentmindedly twirling her hair. If he wasn't already late for his meeting with Captain Seward, he would have stopped and asked how she was doing, but he had awoken far later than he had intended. The waiting room was small and warmer than the air outside, leaving him tugging at his high collared shirt. A light sweat broke out on his forehead as he was welcomed into the room by a rather intimidating man. He walked in cautiously, feeling uncomfortable and as if he would be useless. The Captain Seward asked him to sit, and so he did, although he didn't like being told what to do or how to do it. She asked him to tell her everything that he knew of what occurred on October 6th. He frowned.
"Honestly Captain, I didn't see anything other than the man after he was dead; he was bloody and some strange black substance left his mouth, but other than that I didn't see any of his actions. Al-Although I have read of stuff like this in the library. Black magic type things... you don't suppose it could be anything like that? Do you?" He watched as the Captain's face turned a shade paler, but her expression gave away nothing. "If this is all you need, I have to get back to work, I apologize for my rudeness but I did not inform my boss that I would be busy." He was dismissed and quickly he hurried back to Ravensford, eager to research Black Magic. Her paling face gave away far more than any expression could have given away. A smile appeared on his own face at the thought of being a savior and helping others.
October 12th, 1891
“Sebastian Bay:
I am sure that by now, you have been asked to tell Captain Seward everything you know about what happened a couple days ago behind the Raven's Watch library. To be entirely truthful, neither Captain Seward nor I have any idea with what we are dealing with. I am requesting that you do not speak about this message or the dead pirate with anyone who was not involved. I am also requesting that you attempt to look more into this to the best of your ability. If that is just not possible for you to do, then I understand, but please let me know as soon as possible. I will be in touch.
Many thanks, Genevieve Winchester"
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Post by Emilee Bekka on Jan 8, 2016 20:14:49 GMT -5
October 9th, 1891
Victoire found herself immersed in her small library after she saw the incident behind the library. She pulled out ever book, from history to fairy tales to try and find a logical explanation to what she had witnessed. She found herself occupied with work in between her frequent readings. After closing shop early, t tired to deal with persistent customers and broken trinkets, Victoire picked up a book off her work bench and pushed back wisps of hair in order to see. She tossed it in her chair and went to the small stove in her office and created a small fire within, taking her copper kettle and filling it with water. When the kettle was filled, Victorie left it to boil as she found some milk and a tea tin for her to make a warm drink to enjoy as she red.
She turned, the hem of her skirt brushing to dirty floor of the small office to set the items down when a hard knock reverberated on the shop door. Good thing she had locked it. She froze for a moment before composing herself and emerged from the backroom, peering through the glass of the store front to see a stately man standing at her door. Victorie became curious and she opened the door. In the man's gloved hand was a letter with her name written across.
"A message to Victorie Porter." he told her, extending his arm and handing her the letter. She scanned over the delicate script and became worried at to what could be contained inside the envelop.
"Thank you." she said and closed the door, the sound of the bell reverberating in the empty shop behind her. She took the letter back to the office with her and picked up a letter opener. She swept it along the seal and pulled the parchment from inside. The message was brief, but seemed urgent.
Craftswoman Victoire Eloise Porter:
You are being summoned to the office of the emergency response team of Hourglass City located on 49218 Blade Boulevard in Peripoint (do not confuse this with the office of the emergency response team located in Cindergate). Please arrive promptly on October 10th, 1891, at 10:00 AM. Thank you for your cooperation."
The signature at the bottom was from Captain Seward. She quirked an eyebrow at the letter. Why was she being summoned to the office. She racked her brain for an recollection of doing something that would have her be summoned to the emergency response team's office. She set the letter down and turned back to the steam whistling from her kettle.
She would soon find out what is to come the following morning.
(I'll log on and finish this tomorrow....)
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Post by Dalton on Jan 9, 2016 16:15:57 GMT -5
October 13th 1891
Dear Genevieve Ive never seen anything like that before, his mutilated body laying there, the menacing black smoke coming out of his mouth, as if he were burning from the inside, but there was no fire in him. The rouge pirate, was a member of Captain Raynor and I's crew. I never really knew him personally, he worked on the deck, where I am one of the ship's navigators. Captain Raynor wholeheartedly agrees that all matters about the dead pirate should be kept confidential, you can expect full compliance from Merriweather and I, if you need anything to help the investigation, we are your eyes in the skies!
- With Love Katherine
OCTOBER 10TH 1981
"Until I saw the smoke...I would have thought he was just someone who was angry" said Merriweather, staring into Captain Seward's eyes, "a pirate was found with his wings ripped out of his back, claimed an Aeronaut taking orders from an Automation did it. I would have chalked it up to a bunch of isolated incidents that snowballed out of control" There's a dirty word in Hourglass City, and that word is Black Magic
"Hourglass City is a large place, how did you know that missing crewman was at the library?" asked Captain Steward
"My navigator... her gift is a real blessing, she can feel magnetic fields, it gives her a good sense of direction" Merriweather answered,
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bekka
New Member
Posts: 43
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Post by bekka on Jan 9, 2016 19:41:54 GMT -5
October 9th, 1891
Victoire found herself immersed in her small library after she saw the incident behind the library. She pulled out ever book, from history to fairy tales to try and find a logical explanation to what she had witnessed. She found herself occupied with work in between her frequent readings. After closing shop early, t tired to deal with persistent customers and broken trinkets, Victoire picked up a book off her work bench and pushed back wisps of hair in order to see. She tossed it in her chair and went to the small stove in her office and created a small fire within, taking her copper kettle and filling it with water. When the kettle was filled, Victorie left it to boil as she found some milk and a tea tin for her to make a warm drink to enjoy as she red.
She turned, the hem of her skirt brushing to dirty floor of the small office to set the items down when a hard knock reverberated on the shop door. Good thing she had locked it. She froze for a moment before composing herself and emerged from the backroom, peering through the glass of the store front to see a stately man standing at her door. Victorie became curious and she opened the door. In the man's gloved hand was a letter with her name written across.
"A message to Victorie Porter." he told her, extending his arm and handing her the letter. She scanned over the delicate script and became worried at to what could be contained inside the envelop.
"Thank you." she said and closed the door, the sound of the bell reverberating in the empty shop behind her. She took the letter back to the office with her and picked up a letter opener. She swept it along the seal and pulled the parchment from inside. The message was brief, but seemed urgent.
Craftswoman Victoire Eloise Porter:
You are being summoned to the office of the emergency response team of Hourglass City located on 49218 Blade Boulevard in Peripoint (do not confuse this with the office of the emergency response team located in Cindergate). Please arrive promptly on October 10th, 1891, at 10:00 AM. Thank you for your cooperation."
The signature at the bottom was from Captain Seward. She quirked an eyebrow at the letter. Why was she being summoned to the office. She racked her brain for an recollection of doing something that would have her be summoned to the emergency response team's office. She set the letter down and turned back to the steam whistling from her kettle.
She would soon find out what is to come the following morning.
October 10th 1891
Now, Victorie found herself answering question after question from Captain Seward. She looked at the man with a slight disdain. There was no point in asking her why she was behind the library.
"I was making a delivery when I saw the crowd. Curiosity over came me and I went to go see what all the fuss was about. I then pushed myself through to see what was going on and saw a pirate going mad, shooting civilians. He dropped to the ground and that's when a whisp like something came out of his mouth. I walked away after that, made my delivery and headed home. That's all." she told the man in front of her. She watched his expression carefully, him looking for falsies in her answer.
"Alright, thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Porter." Captain Seward told her. She stood up and nodded, spinning on the heels of her boots and heading home. All Victoire wanted to do was take a small nap before opening the store and going about her daily duties.
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Post by skyparttimedemigod on Jan 9, 2016 20:02:03 GMT -5
October 10th, 1891
John stood in front of Captain Seward as she waited for her to respond with what happened on that day on October 6th. He continually pulled out various notes he had written down and in the process pulled out various gadgets which he laid on her desk. With every passing second Captain Seward only became increasingly irritated but John only appeared completely oblivious to her frustration. Finally he pulled out the right note and began to smooth out the paper with some random bronze pipe he had in his coat pocket.
"Oh, yes, October 6th, I went to purchase six gears and head to the library," John began, trying to decipher his own handwriting. "I did see someone. He was very dead, yes, indeed."
"Anything else?" Captain Seward said, eager for him to leave.
"Yes, I think he was a pirate of sort. There was something dark happening and a lot of blood. I wish I had taken a sample of whatever was coming out of his mouth, it was quite peculiar." He continued to read off the note and said, "Forgot to purchase six gears...oh sorry about that, just a personal note to myself." He shoved the note back into his pocket and gathered up everything off the desk before being quickly ushered out of the office.
...
October 14th, 1891
John stared at the letter from Genevieve for a while. A look into this investigation? He wasn't sure what he could provide and most of his time was being consumed with constructing an automation. But perhaps he could find some time to investigate this and maybe gain something out of this. He wrote back that if there was ever a need for a inventor with a certain set of knowledge than he would be the one. He also made sure to note that he would comply with the request. Just before preparing the letter to be sent off, he accidentally knocked a small container of excess grease in the far corner. Unable to dry the paper, he decided to send it off anyway.
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hermyoninny
New Member
i miss the old kanye straight from the go kanye chop up the soul kanye set on his goals kanye
Posts: 22
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Post by hermyoninny on Jan 10, 2016 0:33:19 GMT -5
October 9th, 1891 Edith
Miss Edith Grainger,
You are being summoned to the office of the emergency response team of Hourglass City located on 49218 Blade Boulevard in Peripoint (do not confuse this with the office of the emergency response team located in Cindergate). Please arrive promptly on October 10th, 1891, at 9:00 AM. Thank you for your cooperation.
October 10th, 1891
Edith stood waiting, hands clasped in front of her. She arrived too early for the interview, worried she would doddle and be late. Her legs bounced nervously, not wanting to relive that day. Finally, after what seemed like hours to her, she was called in. A man she didn't recognize was seated next to Captain Seward. "Hello, Miss Grainger," Captain Seward greeted, gesturing to a seat. Edith nodded her head politely, smoothing out her skirts and sitting down. Captain Seward looked broadly at her, making Edith even more nervous. "I'd like you to tell me what happened on the day of October sixth and why you happened to be present."
Edith stayed quiet for a second, collecting her thoughts. She debated whether or not lie about why she was there, as that could endanger her job, but chancing a glance at the man, she voted against the idea. He was most likely someone that could look into one's thoughts, and that could put her at even more risk. Edith stared back at Captain Seward. "I overheard an aide telling Doctor Winchester to come see something. I followed them, and saw the man lying on the ground," Edith began. She started choking on her words near the end, very vivid details circling to her mind's eyes. Edith took another moment to swallow the lump in her throat. "He was very mutilated, unrecognizable. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't look away from him. That's when I saw the black smoke emit from his mouth, coiling around in the air like a snake." Edith felt bile rise up in her throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
Her face with sticky with tears she didn't even notice falling. She could feel Captain Seward's gaze locked onto the top of raven head. A few seconds later, the scribbles of a pen stopped. "I think that will be all for today, Miss Grainger," Captain Seward said. "Thank you for your cooperation." It took Edith a few seconds too long to process being dismissed. She stood shakily, said her goodbyes to Captain Seward and the man, and left, the sour taste of memories in her mouth.
October 11th, 1891
"These were dropped off by Doctor Winchester for you," Edith's head nurse told her, setting a pile of letters in front of her. Edith jumped in surprise, blinking up at her superior. She turned her attention back to the letters. Her name was the first on the stack, written in delicate handwriting.
"Did she tell you what I was suppose to do with these?" Edith questioned, sifting through the pile.
"Just to get them to you as soon as possible." Edith bit her lip in thought. Well, delivering them by hand shouldn't be too much of a problem. She'd have to do it on her way home from work today. Setting the letters to the side, Edith returned to organizing her medicine drawer. It was becoming a little too cluttered, and she didn't want to fatally mix up things. With the thought of a soon to be new adventure on the horizon, Edith worked with a spring in her step for the rest of the day until it was time to deliver the letters to everyone.
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Post by allyoopster on Jan 10, 2016 2:22:29 GMT -5
Charlotte
October 6th, 1891 The pirate was finally dead it seemed. His body lay motionless as the accursed smokey substance finally vanished. It was apparent to Charlotte that whatever disturbed the nature of this pirates behavior had some relevance with that mist, as she aptly referred it as. She sheathed her rapier and quickly turned to her Aeronaut underlings, a few whom already looked upon her for orders. She straightened her back and raised her chin in a composed manner. "Alright men, we need to put a boundary line around the body, don't let any civilians get near. Healers and investigators only!" She declared. Her voice ran low and calm, her confusion dulled down to an expression of a simple blink of an eye and the pursing of her lips. Her mind raced around a single thought. What on earth was that? Aeronaut patrolmen and ground troops alike herded the growing crowd of people away from the scene. Gasp after gasp emanated from each person that arrived at the scene. Charlotte scanned the crowd like a hawk, and spotted something peculiar amidst the crowd. A man, stout and strong-looking, with a familiarity about him. Just before turning to leave, Charlotte could make out similar facial features to that of the missing Aeronaut pilot, Nathaniel Enright. She did not fix her gaze upon him as to raise suspicion. The man she saw has different attire, and hair, but one can easily alter those. What an interesting turn of events, she thought to herself. Although she was not entirely sure it truly was the missing lieutenant, so she turned to Edwin, who nearly vomited on her black dress at the site of the suicide. "Edwin, I need you to pull yourself together now. Do you see that man walking away?" She lightly jerked the side of her head in the direction of the man she spotted, while still making eye contact with Edwin. A wide eye'd Edwin nervously blinked and licked his lips before glancing in that general direction and nodding to her. "I need you to follow him, but do not engage. Pay careful attention to him, he could possibly be Nathaniel Enright". She kept her voice low, so as not to arouse any suspicion and curiosity from the other Aeronauts. Edwin's brows furrowed. From behind, the man looked significantly different from the Aeronauts famed lieutenant. "Are you sure of that ma'am?" He queried. Charlotte slowly closed her eyes, and rubbed between her eyes in annoyance before answering back."Edwin, get to it now, or I will make you kiss that corpse's ass!" The elegance of her voice trailed off to a low grumble of annoyance. Edwin's raised his eyes in shock, but quickly trailed after the suspicious man. Now that he was out of her hair, she headed in the direction of the Aeronauts that had made their way in from the east of Ravensford. She identified the leader of their squad as Marcus Jackson, who seemed just as unsettled as the rest of them."Take your squad around and gather information from as many witnesses as you can find in the area. Relay the information to our top investigators after they receive word from the clock-bird." She gave a solemn nod to Marcus, and both parted ways. Charlotte met with the other tactical operator to discuss what had transpired. Marcus
October 6th, 1891 Marcus' struggled to keep his emotions from caving in on mind. It wasn't long before the flame met with Marcus' squad. Although Marcus was clearly still disconcerted by the situation, the site of a such a beautiful woman never ceased to calm his nerves."Take your squad around and gather information from as many witnesses as you can find in the area. Relay the information to our top investigators after they receive word from the clock-bird." She ordered. She nodded as she strode past him, her face showing no mere level of concern. "You heard the lass, let's see what we can gather", said Marcus. The rest of his squad fanned out and stopped upon anyone they encountered, but Marcus took to look around for the prettiest faces he could find. He settled upon a short womanly blonde with tears in her eyes. She shot Marcus a glance as he approached. A handsome smile formed on his face as he finally reached her."M'lady, I do apologize, this must have been such a horrifying situation for you to have had to watch, but can you please tell me what you saw?" His voice ran smooth as silk, selling it with his charm. He looked at her with a warm gaze that could melt any woman's heart. The girl initially stumbled over her sentences, and stuttering with every word. The gory scene, and his charm were too much for her. Marcus managed to gain a few insignificant details from her before thanking her and moving on. He scanned the crowd again for more promising witnesses. After asking a handful pretty faces what they had witnessed, Marcus gathered a substantial amount of evidence, but nothing him and everybody else hadn't already witnessed themselves. He passed on the information to any tactical operators and investigators he could find in the area, along with his squad mates. Charlotte
October 6th, 1891 Edwin followed the suspicious character out through the crowd, keeping a safe distance away so as not to get noticed. When the man quickened his pace, Edwin began to feed into Charlotte's skepticism, and with every passing moment that Edwin kept his eyes on the man, he looked more and more like Nathaniel Enright. The mans height and body build suggested so, and with the slight turn of his head, Edwin could make out distinct wrinkling on the mans face, similar to that of lieutenant Enright. The man reached his destination it seemed. Edwin, in his youth, managed to keep up with man, but not without difficulty. Edwin stopped and hid behind a few random crates as the man made his way up a flight of stairs to the top of the building. A few minutes later, Edwin could make out the hum of an airship nearby. Before he knew it, a lone airship had departed the building from where the man had gone up. It did not have the Aeronaut banner on it, but it still raised Edwin's suspicion. Lady Charlotte was right! He thought to himself. There is a strong possibility that this man really is Lieutenant Nathaniel Enright, but why on earth would such a respectable Aeronaut go and do such a thing? Edwin knew he could not keep up with an airship, but noted the direction in which it was going. He wrote it down on a little parchment notepad he had on him, along with his inkwell pen. He wrote as he headed back to the Ravensford library, trying not to spill his ink. **********
As Aeronauts and healers alike began clearing out the damage from the attack, Edwin met back up with Charlotte. He was out of breath, and sweat covered his face and neck. He gave her the information, and parchment with the notes he had taken and a splash of ink in the top right corner. She ignored his clumsiness and turned away from him. She breathed in deep, raising her shoulders and lowering them as she exhaled before saying "we have quite a predicament on our hands". She sent Edwin off to help investigate a bit more before they wrapped things up. There was no telling what Nathaniel could be up to, but she had to find out. October 7th, 1891 Charlotte could tell that some of the men were still feeling a bit uneasy the morning after the rogue pirate attack. She saw in the fear in their eyes as she roamed the halls to Captain Seward's office. Seward's guard immediately opened the door for Charlotte, where she found Captain Seward writing on a piece of parchment paper. It seemed that the captain got very little sleep that night, most likely due to the rogue pirate case. Charlotte waited patiently before the Captain raised her eyes up for one moment. "Any substantial news about the rogue pirate, Lieutenant Orwell?" Seward inquired as she looked back down and continued to write. "I do, and it may or may not have relevance to the case of Lieutenant Nathaniel Enright" Charlotte replied in a composed manner. At this moment, Captain Seward stopped writing gave her full attention to Charlotte, clasping her hands together. Charlotte lowered her chin and began pacing around the room as she began."I spotted a man who looked strikingly similar to that of Nathaniel Enright, who, as you already know, was to be found missing just recently. Now the man had a few physical alterations it seems, different hair and attire, as a means to conceal his true identity. Now reports in from the investigators who looked into Nathaniel's disappearance say that he had left his usual attire in his office, odd coincidence is it not?" Charlotte quipped sarcastically. Captain Seward narrowed her eyes at Charlotte, but Charlotte continued."I also asked a few investigators to mention to the witnesses if they had seen this suspicious character, and a few reported they had, and described him similarly to Nathaniel." Seward leaned back in her desk, looking down at her lap in thought. "This does sound very strange. In any other situation I might make this a separate case, but with all the strange events occurring I will have to consider it", said Seward. Charlotte stopped pacing around, and slowly walked up to Captain Sewards desk, placing her hands on the mahogany piled with paperwork, and leaning in close."Oh, but that isn't all I have gathered. Just another piece of the puzzle I might say." Charlotte smirked down at Seward before continuing again. "I had a fellow investigator follow this man to a building, where we flew an unidentified airship off the roof headed north-west. The airship that took off fit the description of one of our missing airships, but it did not have Aeronaut banner, probably as another means of concealment." Charlotte's smirk soon faded, and she did nothing but look at Seward as Seward took a moment to think. "Here are the witness reports, and the report made by the investigator who followed the suspicious character." Charlotte said as she handed Seward a few pieces of paper that she quickly looked over. She set the papers down and looked up at Charlotte. Seward never personally liked Charlotte. If arrogance had an odor, this room would wreak in her presence, Seward thought to herself, but she respected Charlotte's quality. She paused for a moment to give Charlotte a strange look before speaking."I will keep this on record, thank you Charlotte." Charlotte's smile widened, and she stood up to go sit on one of Seward's chairs. They continued to discuss the issue, and what was to be done. It wasn't until Seward presented the idea of black magic being the cause did it hit Charlotte like the first ring of a hammer to an anvil. Of course! How stupid of me. It all makes sense now, Charlotte thought to herself. Charlotte was too young to remember the catastrophic events that had occurred during the earlier nineteenth century, but she previously researched it whilst still in training. "On behalf of the civilians, I ask that you ask the men to keep quiet about the potential risk of black magic. I do not want there to be a false alarm, we are still looking for more evidence, which is why I am going to personally interview each witness." Captain Seward reached for her pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and continued writing. "See to it that the Aeronauts who were at Ravensford yesterday evening report to me by the 10th? I must compile my evidence, including yours". Charlotte gracefully saluted her, and walked out to commence with the days duties. ********** Charlotte gathered a number of men into the conference room, all of whom were at the scene of the crime just the night before. Among the men were Marcus Jackson, Charles Ganger, and Ansel Portsmouth. She purposefully neglected to address that there was the possibility of black magic within the city of Hourglass as a result of the rogue pirates destructive behavior, but instead went on to explain the importance of secrecy for the time being. Several of the men questioned the smoke entity, but only received vague answers. Some men were content with the information they had been given, and just wanted to go about their day in peace. Everyone else, including Marcus, Charles, and Ansel, had a burning curiosity for what they saw.
Marcus October 10th, 1891 Marcus'nightmares were reoccurring, leaving him with as little as 2-4 hours of sleep each night. He'd be unsaddling a beautiful lady for the ride of his life, and BAM! Her skirt would dissipate into a unnatural black fog that engulfed him, and possessed his body. He would be forced to do unspeakable things, becoming a destructive force that he himself could not stop. One night he dreamt of the fog overtaking him, and finding that he had killed his own mates, blood cascaded down his legs and arms and face, yet ironically he was powerless. Another night he dreamt of the black fog overtaking the entirety of Hourglass city, until all went dark, and he woke with a start. The morning of October 10th at 2:03 in the morning, he dreamt that he was the rogue pirate, only, it turned out he wasn't the rogue pirate at all. He was a rogue Aeronaut, standing just behind Ravensford, gun and sword in hand. Before he knew it, Marcus was shooting and slicing himself uncontrollably. This time, Marcus woke up the entire Barrack with his deranged cry. He was exhausted, absolutely zonked, but he had a duty to fulfill. Him and his mate were patrolling the south end of New Toppingham when finally his mate turned to him ad asked, "Ye want to talk about the nightmares?" Marcus lifted his head and gave his mate a stern look. His cutting dark blue eyes said it all, but Marcus said it anyway. "Ye think for one second that I would open myself up to the likes of you, when I could be opening up to a nice cold pint." Marcus stopped amidst the flurry of civilians - mostly pirates bustling about with their trade - and tipped his hat over to a group of young ladies at a nearby pub. "I know where I'm goin' t'night" "Ye best be sure you report to Captain Seward tonight befo' ye do that". His mate reluctantly replied. Marcus' eyes flickered to his mate. He had completely forgotten. "Well, there goes my night of fun" Marcus turned and shook his head sadly to the women by the pub. The two girls "awww'd" in unison as Marcus and his mate continued down the streets. As they made their way back to Peripoint that afternoon, having taken the early shift, Marcus expected to see the usual regime of pirates loading and unloading, docking most of the airships before sunset, about ready to head to the pubs. Well, he saw that with a pleasant twist. A beauty with red, long unkempt hair that fell in front of her shoulders walking off one of the airships. Her attire, and the fact that she was among the crew suggested that she was a pirate. Marcus didn't realize he was staring until their gaze met. He quickly turned towards his mate so as not to start an awkward staring contest. She did not seem elated at all, in fact she seemed very reserved and within herself. Marcus turned to his mate, asking a question his mate obviously did not know the answer to. "I have no idea who she is, ye expect me to know?" he said to Marcus. Marcus' face grew red. Never had he been so flustered over looking at a girl, but there was something about her that unnerved him so, not just her beauty. As they walked, he couldn't help but try one last glance. He slowly turned back, only to find that she had vanished amongst the crowd. He swiveled his head back around, red faced. His mate could sense the defeat he was feeling and patted him on the shoulder. "Ahh, don't sweat none mate, she was beautiful aye, but there are plenty of fish in the sea". He said with a hardy chuckle. "Why ye makin' these assumptions Will? Who said I wanted to fuck a woman at the blink of an eye" he said in a very genuine tone, but within 3 seconds they were both cracking up, and damn near keeling over. Marcus finally made it to Peripoint, making his way straight to Seward's office with his reports in hand. As Marcus reached her office, the guard made him identify himself before letting him in. Seward was organizing a stack of parchment papers, looking wearier than usual. "Captain" Marcus addressed her as before saluting. "Please, have a seat Marcus, and set your reports on my desk". He did as she said in a very composed manner. His back was straighter, and eyes focused. "At ease, I know we're all exhausted", said Seward. Marcus let his eyes drop to the floor, and his back against the chair. Captain Seward grabbed his reports off the table, skimmed through them for a moment and then turned her attention back to him. "Now, will you please tell me everything you know, and explain how you ended up in the same place as the rogue pirate," She said almost monotone. Marcus relayed his mission to stop the rogue pirate along with his squad, from the news in the changing room to his duty of questioning the civilians. Captain Seward did not so much as move an inch until he was done explaining. Marcus did not know if it would be appropriate to mention the reoccurring nightmares in relation to the shadow that had seeped from the rogue pirates dead body, so he remained quiet. "Is there anything else you would like to add, Sergeant Marcus?" Seward asked, sensing his unsettled demeanor. Marcus paused a moment, lifting his eyes ever so slightly before replying "no". The captain nodded. "Well, thank you Marcus. I fully appreciate your cooperation, and your work in the field." Seward said. Marcus saluted and began walking towards the door when suddenly he stopped himself. We turned on his heels, facing captain Seward. He didn't paused for another moment, finding the right words. "Actually, Captain, there is something." Seward looked back up from her papers and rested her elbows on the table. Marcus cleared his throat and began to speak, afraid he may regret his decision later. "The night prior to the attack, I dreamt of the same shadowy entity that had seeped out of the pirates body. It sounds strange and probably not worth reporting, but everything in my being tells me that they were relevant. Now I can't stop having nightmares. I wake up every morning to the same, well, darkness. Malicious energy that I can't completely explain." With every word out of Marcus' mouth, captain Seward grew more and more unsettled herself. "That is very peculiar Sergeant, I will be sure to keep a note of this. I hope you rest better soon. Thank you Marcus". She said. Marcus saluted once more, and finally exited. I'm such a fool, Marcus thought to himself.
********** Another nightmare. A dark, unseen cloud of darkness stretched from the Wastelands as if to snatch Hourglass city into its evil hands. No one saw it but Marcus. He saw everyone's impending doom under the evil that was yet to come. This time Marcus fell out of his bed. His barrack mates in the next room didn't bother to check on him this time. Marcus was slowly suffering from insomnia. He feared for his own sanity at that point. To pass the time, he pulled out his dull pocketknife handed down from his father. It was like a child's toy, but it provided him with something to do. He focused and struggle with each tug of the knife against the wood.
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