>>2745105

>Twitter: https://twitter.com/MolochQM
>Previous: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Into%20the%20Skies
>Airship combat rules: https://pastebin.com/DTLDheZ6

“So,” you begin, nodding to the pile of books as you sit down with Keziah and Grace, “What have we learned?”

“Well, we've learned never to sic Masque on anythin' we dinnae want dead,” Keziah replies cheerfully, “But I dinnae reckon that's what you're talkin' about, right boss? You were more interested in this, I'm guessing.” As she says this, the witch touches her hand to the stone slab sitting between her and Grace. The night is growing dark, with a thick dome of cloud settling over all of Nadir, but the light of the battery lantern is enough for the scholarly pair to see by. A blazing bonfire might be more traditional, you suppose, but a battery lantern is a lot less work.

And then the sky is split by a fleeting flash of light. Grace flinches, then straightens up and gazes out into the sky. “Lightning?” she thinks aloud, “Another storm? But-”

“That wasn't lightning,” you correct her, “That was cannon fire. There's someone up there, they-”

This time, you're the one who is interrupted. Caliban sprints over, waving to get your attention. “You saw that shot, captain?” he asks, hastening on before you can answer his question, “It came from pretty far out, over the water. We've got a second airship circling the area. You see up there?” He points, and you soon notice a dark shape moving through the dense clouds above. One airship fighting over the water, and another prowling about the land.

“Looks like our holiday is officially over,” the hunter remarks, glancing back towards the town as the locals – the few that were outdoors to begin with – flee towards shelter. “The pantry back at the house is below ground. That might be our best shot at riding this one out,” Caliban continues, noticing your look, “But... maybe hiding out isn't really your style, captain.”

“We can run and fetch the others,” Keziah promises you, gesturing between her and Grace, “Get everyone into shelter, or back to the ship. What are your orders?”

There's danger here, real danger – you can feel it in your gut. Charging into a blind situation is never good, but the longer you wait before taking action, the worse it might be for whoever is out there. No matter how you look at it, it's a messy situation.

>Take shelter until the fighting has passed
>Head back to the ship and investigate the fighting
>Get on the Helena's radio and attempt to contact the airships
>Other

>>2745106
>Head back to the ship and investigate the fighting

Let's not charge in blindly of course. We do have that scanning suite to check things out from a distance.

>>2745105
>Head back to the ship and investigate the fighting
>Get on the Helena's radio and attempt to contact the airships

aren't these basically the same thing?

>>2745110
One is to investigate without giving ourselves away and the other is diplomacy I'd wager.

>>2745106
>Get on the Helena's radio and attempt to contact the airships
No liftoff, not yet. There might be a bigger ship about to swoop in.

>>2745110
>That's my mistake. "Head back to the ship and investigate" meant to head directly into the fighting instead of hanging back and gathering intel.

>>2745106
>Head back to the ship and investigate the fighting.

We don't want to make radio contact while grounded and helpless. After we're in the air and can maneuver would be ok.

>>2745123
allright then i vote hanging back and getting intel

>>2745107
Aye

“Get the others and meet us back at the ship,” you order, slapping Keziah on the arm and pointing towards the chapel. If there's any fighting to be done, you'll need Gunny back on the ship. As the witch sprints off towards her destination, you lead the others back towards the outskirts of town and the waiting airship. As you run, you feel the air crackle with a growing power – not quite the same feeling as that of a gathering storm, but close. Despite the thick clouds, the skies seem free from lightning.

What, then, is the source of this uneasy feeling?

Dwight is already standing ready at the radio when you arrive at the bridge, and the engines hum with ready power. Collapsing down into the pilot's seat, you scan over the control and make sure that everything is as it should be – the Helena is primed and ready, able to launch at a moment's notice. “Try and get us in contact with either of those airships,” you tell Dwight as you prepare the scanning suite, “I want to know what's going on up there.”

“You got it, chief,” Dwight agrees, busying himself with the radio. The scanner chimes almost as soon as he's finished talking, bringing up a scrolling screen of data. You're picking up two readings – one, the nearby reading, is the Belladonna. That's Zastava's ship, you recall with a start, could Tobias be here as well? The second reading doesn't tell you much, though – it's big, whatever it is, powerful enough that the feed from the scanner is almost drowned out by static. Unstable Pleonite can do that, but...

“Got a contact for you,” Dwight announces, “Putting you through now.”

The radio hisses static for a moment, then a woman's voice – sharp with stress – slashes out at you. “Tobias?” Zastava snaps, “Is that you? So help me, if you're-”

“Captain Zastava? This is Captain Vaandemere speaking,” you interrupt, your taut voice cutting through her panic, “Sounds like you've got a situation on your hands. Is there anything I can help you with?” Even as you say this, you peer out the front window and watch as Gunny races aboard. Waiting a few seconds more, you throw the altitude lever forwards and begin your flight.

“You... I don't...” Zastava stammers, pausing for a single moment as she gathers together her composure. “It's that damn wyrm!” she blurts out at last, “Tobias has been chasing it ever since... he followed a glimpse of it all the way out here, told me to hang back for now. He said he'd radio me if he needed help, but I can't get in contact with him. His radio-”

A bright flash lights up the waters, cutting Zastava short. This isn't the blue flash of cannon fire – this is the vivid red and yellow of an explosion, the flash of an airship being crippled... or killed.

[1/2]

>>2745150
HAHA, WYRM TIME

>>2745150

“Damn it!” Zastava screams, her voice crackling with static. Above you, the dim shape of her airship cuts a sharp turn and launches out towards the ocean. Another flash of fire – smaller this time, a secondary explosion – lights up the night. This time the flames linger, forming a trail that spirals down towards the water. You shout Zastava's name, crying out a warning to her, but she doesn't respond.

“Damn it!” you snap, getting ready to chase after her.

“Hey, chief!” Dwight cries, grabbing your arm, “If that's a wyrm out there, we can't do a damn thing to it! You remember what happened last time, don't you?”

As much as you hate to admit it, he's got a point. Just getting close to a wyrm had been enough to cause your airship to shut down, her engines dying. This time is hardly likely to be any different, and yet... Tobias is already down, and Zastava is racing out there to join him. If you don't do anything, the two young captains – along with everyone aboard their airships – could be doomed.

Slowly, Dwight lets go of your arm. Saying nothing, he steps backwards and collapses down into a chair.

>Follow Zastava and engage the wyrm. You've got to do something!
>Hang back and stay out of the fight. What can you do against a wyrm?
>Other

>>2745159
>Follow Zastava and engage the wyrm. You've got to do something!
We were to able to do something to it last time. That something pissed it off and EMP'd us but it was something.

>>2745159
>Follow Zastava and engage the wyrm. You've got to do something!
don't worry guys, i'm sure nothing can go wrong!

>>2745159
>Follow Zastava and engage the wyrm. You've got to do something!
you don't actually have to get close to shoot, and we can send the Eliza to the other ships if they need bailing.

>>2745159
>Follow Zastava and try to evacuate Tobias without engaging the wyrm.

>>2745159
>Hang back and stay out of the fight.

>Radio Zastava and warn her about the effects of Wyrms on airships.

Snarling, you tighten your grip on the controls and throw them forwards, feeling the Helena leap in motion. Dwight groans and fumbles on his safety harness, but you barely notice him. Thunder rumbles and a first few drops of rain splash against the Helena's front window as you pursue the Belladonna, the recent heatwave giving way to a darker weather. Ahead, you can see the flickering flame that marks out the ruins of the Steppenwolf.

The clouds seem to thicken as you approach the crash site, closing around you like a fist and shutting out the rest of the world. The Belladonna slows as it descends, Zastava's caution finally outweighing her desperation. Dipping lower and lower, she guides her ship in a loose circle around the burning remains. The crashed airship is more intact that you had expected, with Tobias apparently guiding it down onto a small island. It might not be intact for very long, though – according to your scanner, the ship's Pleonite core has grown unstable. It could blow at the slightest impact.

“Do we have a plan?” Dwight asks hastily, looking around for any sign of the wyrm, “Tell me that we have a plan.”

“The last time we saw a wyrm, it really didn't like us,” you explain, watching as the Belladonna drops lower and lower, “Maybe we can distract it long enough for Zastava to pick up any survivors.”

“We're the bait?” the pilot moans, clasping his hands over his face. Before you can answer that question – although really, it was a question with no need for an answer – something below you moves.

A tiny figure stumbles out of the airship and launches a flare, the red glow rising up into the sky and lighting up the clouds. There, dimly visible through the inky mass, you see movement. Something slithers, and then the clouds break open to reveal the monster. It's not the same wyrm that you saw in Zenith – this one looks... older. Greenish clumps of moss cling to its pale hide, reminding you strangely of the bark of some ancient, bleached tree. Hanging transfixed in the air, it seems to look around at the scene before it.

Then its inhuman eyes fall upon the Spirit of Helena – upon you. Absolute silence seems to descend, blanketing you in an uncanny stillness. You couldn't say how long that moment lasts for – it feels like hours, but you know that it couldn't be more than a few seconds. The moment might have lasted forever, if not for the crushed butt of Dwight's cigarette. The butt must have fallen behind the controls at some point and been forgotten, but now it rises slowly up before you. All around you, tiny objects break free from the shackles of gravity and creep up towards the ceiling.

“Hey, boss,” Dwight whispers, “What...”

Static howls out of the radio at you, piercing the bubble of stillness like a needle. Acting on reflex, you throw the controls forwards and launch into motion. Just keep moving – the rest can come later.

[1/2]

>>2745182
Can we sic masque on it? Maybe construct a catapult

>>2745182

“Vaandemere...” Zastava calls, her voice barely piercing through the static, “Keep it off me... up the crew... I repeat, I'm picking up Tobias and his people now, keep... away from us!”

“Understood!” you reply, not even sure if she'll be able to hear you, “But watch out, those wyrms can drain the power out of your engines. Don't get close to it!” Guiding the Helena around in a tight circle, you back off from the wyrm and circle around it. Swimming through the air like an eel, the vast creature matches your movements with no apparent effort. You're pushing the Helena to her limits, while the wyrm might as well be playing with you. Wherever the beast passes, the clouds come alive with lightning.

“Engine room!” you shout, fumbling with the intercom, “How are our engines looking?”

“We've got a steady drain on the power, but it's holdin'!” Keziah calls back, “The engines are stayin' hot, but just barely. Dinnae ask us to fire the cannons or anythin' like that!”

The wyrm is draining your power as fast as the engines can restore it – you can't shake the idea that it's doing that deliberately, just one more way that it's toying with you. Gritting your teeth, you jerk the controls around to the right and guide the Helena away from Zastava's rescue attempt. Leisurely rolling in the air, the wyrm follows you and swoops closer. As its row of eyes draws up beside the window, you feel... something. A scratching sensation, like someone's fingers clawing at a locked drawer – only the drawer is your mind.

Not the immediate hostility that you saw in the Zenith wyrm, not this time. This time, it feels closer to curiosity – although that doesn't mean it's harmless, not by a long shot. When something could crush your ship or snuff out your engine with the slightest effort, curiosity can be a very dangerous thing indeed.

“Captain!” Gunny barks, “We've got missiles loaded and ready to fire. Won't drain the engines any, so we're safe to fire them. Just give us the order and we'll let fly!”

“Missiles? Oh no...” Dwight groans, “Chief, don't make that thing angry - just get us the hell out of here!”

Jerking the Helena around, you peer out through the darkness and look down to the ruins of the Steppenwolf. The Belladonna hovers nearby, and you can still see figures clambering out of the ruins. They still need more time, but...

A shudder runs through the Spirit of Helena as a stray bolt of lightning lashes out from the wyrm's body and strikes you. Sirens blare, the lights dim, and you feel the bottom falling out of your stomach. The wyrm was toying with you before, but now it seems to be getting bored.

>Just keep moving, keep the wyrm's attention focused on you
>Give the order to fire missiles, try and drive the wyrm off that way
>Disengage before you sustain any further damage. You've done all you can for Zastava
>Other

>>2745232
Keep its attention.

>>2745232
>>Just keep moving, keep the wyrm's attention focused on you
Is Feanor's sword glowing?

>>2745232
I have this hare-brained scheme of getting up to its eyes and luciftiaing it blind, but that would require killing the engines.
>Just keep moving, keep the wyrm's attention focused on you
if we start using missiles, we better be ready to throw everything at it. Bullets, explosive energy arrows, Masque....

>>2745232
>Just keep moving, keep the wyrm's attention focused on you

>>2745232
>Other
Maybe we can communicate with it somehow? Dunno how dangerous opening our mind would be, but it has some form of telepathy. We could think pictures at it, like the other when or something.

Still fufills drawing it's attention but maybe it won't shoot lightning at us.

>>2745232
>Fire missiles

>>2745258
>the other when
the other wyrm*

Phone posting reeee

Just keep moving. Repeating those words to yourself like a mantra, you tug on the Helena's controls and put a little extra distance between your ship and the wyrm. It allows this, although with the amused air of a man holding his dog's leash. As soon as you've got a little extra breathing room, you rip Feanor's sword from its sheath and hold the blade up to your eyes. It's burning brightly, the white blade searing at your eyes like the sun itself.

And Feanor himself appears with it, standing a few feet ahead of you and gazing out the observation window. Turning, he gives you a furious glare and points at the distant wyrm. “Kill it!” he mouths, his piercing eyes stabbing into you, “Destroy it, or are you too craven?”

“What do you expect ME to do about it?” you snap at him, ignoring the bemused look Dwight shoots you, “Go on, tell me - how do we kill that thing?”

Feanor has nothing to offer at this, his expression twisting into a rictus of fear and rage. Grunting with a suppressed laugh, you thrust the blade back into its sheath and banish the phantom. Looking up, you realise that the wyrm has been creeping closer again, parting the curtain of rain and cloud as it looms towards you. Once again, you feel it scrabbling at your mind – and this time, you don't pull immediately away from it. This too will keep the wyrm distracted. Still, you have no idea how to communicate with something like this, if communication is even possible.

“Think peaceful thoughts!” you order, glancing around at Dwight. He just stares at you in disbelief as you imagine a sheathed sword, a holstered pistol, a man with his empty hands outstretched... anything that might suggest a lack of hostility. Maybe it's not doing any good, because you don't feel any-

hello helena

“Ouch!” Dwight cries out, wincing as a bolt of pain stabs through your own mind. The alien thought is so loud, so overwhelming that you find it near impossible to think anything back at the wyrm, or even process what just happened. All you can do is-

hello helena can you hear me

“Stop it!” the pilot yells, “Whatever you're doing, just stop it!”

“I'm not doing anything!” you grunt, clenching your eyes shut for a split second before returning your full attention to the controls. To your horror, you realise that the Helena's nose is pointing down towards the ground. Pulling back, you bring the airship out of her dive and slam the altitude lever higher. Definitely a bad idea, you think to yourself, never trying that one again.

“Captain Vaandemere!” Zastavaa calls over the radio, “Are you okay? We're disengaging now. Get out while you can – we'll meet up later!”

Get out. Right.

Easier said than done.

[1/2]

>>2745312
whait so the pleonite cores are wyrven eggs or something? or remains?
since the ship is the spirit of helena and the wyrm seems to recognize it somehow. very far fetched prob

>>2745312
Woah was it talking to ship? Have we been Wyrm riders all along?

>>2745312
>"no I can't hear you please speak up"

File: Nadir Wyrm.jpg (110 KB, 733x1089)

110 KB JPG

>>2745312

Grunting again, you pull back on the controls and push the Helena higher into the skies. Even so, the wyrm continues to effortlessly follow you – at least, at first. The higher you climb, the slower the wyrm flies. It takes a moment to notice the distance opening up between you, but the sight of it is enough to bring new hope to your heart. Whether it can't follow you for some reason or simply doesn't want to, the wyrm doesn't chase you up to Azimuth. The uncanny aura around it seems to diminish as well, with the data screens clearing up.

“Engines are gainin' power now!” Keziah reports from the engine room, “We're lookin' good, boss!”

Perhaps you are. Bringing the Helena around for a moment, you gaze out the observation window and take one last look at the wyrm, in all its terrible and awesome glory. You engrave that sight upon your mind, even as the clouds close around it and swallow the wyrm up. Just before it vanishes completely, you feel one last touch of the wyrm's thoughts scraping against your mind.

helena please we miss you

-

Just to be on the safe side, you spend almost an hour in the empty Azimuth skies, guiding the Spirit of Helena around in a sluggish, aimless circle. Reaching out to the few other ships you see, you ask a few idle questions about what they saw from up here. A storm, they all inevitably answered, just another storm down in Nadir. Dangerous to fly in, but just one more piece of background drama. Maybe you could have pushed for more information, but your heart wasn't in it.

You were more concerned with what the wyrm said – thought – to you. It knew you, your ship, somehow. Dwight's hand shakes as he lights his cigarette, taking a deep drag on it before coughing out smoke. “I don't know what the hell just happened, chief, but I don't want it to happen ever again,” he stresses, “This shit is so far beyond my comprehension that... that I can't even comprehend it.”

“I'll admit, I don't know much more than you do,” you sigh, tentatively guiding the Helena down towards Nadir. The clouds seem to be parting now, the skies clearing to show no sign of the wyrm. Even so, you feel oddly reluctant to return there quite so soon. It feels like the wyrm could be waiting for you, ready to pounce out at you as soon as you descend. Foolishness, of course – where exactly can a beast like that hide?

“That lad was a damn fool though, if he went chasing after that thing,” Dwight continues, a few more puffs on his cigarette apparently resolving the matter in his eyes, “And that girl of his too. Charging off ahead like that... then again, I don't reckon we can throw any stones in that department, huh chief?”

“That's different,” you tell him firmly, “I had a detailed and thoroughly thought out plan.”

“Right,” Dwight murmurs, “Sure.”

[2/3]

>>2745384
Oh god
Pleonite is made of Wyrm

>>2745384
Do we know why Spirit of Helena was named so?

>>2745405
I think Miriam had a relative named Helena. Great aunt or grandmother.

>>2745405
nope but it might be a desecrated wyrm corpse

>>2745405
>>2745445
>Helena was the third Hawthorn sister, along with Miriam and Penelope, although she died when she was a child. Miriam named her ship in honor of her sibling

>>2745464
you got me this time, but you can't hide the truth forever!

>>2745464
There's an aunt in Miriam's relationships somewhere.

Oh damnit, that's right, she's Blessing's aunt.

>>2745384

The Belladonna is waiting for you down in Brightpool, her hull marked with the scars of a storm. Still, compared with the sad remains of the Steppenwolf left out at sea, Zastava got off lightly. Before you exit the ship to meet up with the survivors, you check with your crew to see if anyone has any ideas about what happened. It doesn't take long for you to realise that nobody has any explanation to offer you – not even any theories or wild guesses. Those will come later, once the gossip has begun to circulate.

Standing outside the Helena with your crew, you watch as Zastavas emerge from the Belladonna. “Two things bother me,” you murmur as they approach, “The wyrm contacted us with the Helena's name, and it said that it missed us. That “we” missed us.”

“That's three things,” Caliban points out quietly.

“Three things, then,” you grunt, waving away his correction, “That's even worse. Airships and wyrms – there's some connection here. The Pleonite core, maybe.”

“Pleonite is just a rock,” Freddy replies, “You can't be claiming that it's... wyrm eggs! Yes, Pleonite has strange properties, properties that we don't yet fully understand, but that's so outlandish that-”

“Excuse me,” Zastana mutters, clearing her throat to get your attention, “I... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, we were just...” shrugging, you turn around to the young captain, “How is Tobias? Did you get his crew out okay?”

“Most of them. There were a few...” she winces, swallowing heavily as she fumbles for the right words to use. “Not everyone made it out, but we had enough time to get most of the crew out safely – thanks to you. Tobias is resting right now, he's fast asleep. When he wakes up, I'll let you know. I assume you'll want to talk to him, figure out what he knows,” she continues, “I certainly want to ask him some questions. What was he thinking?”

“You can scold him later. For now, just be thankful that he got out okay,” you suggest, “After we split up, what happened?”

“The wyrm came back, it went straight for the remains of the Steppenwolf and it did... I don't know how to describe it,” Zastava shudders, “It was like a bird tearing into a carcass. I think the core must have exploded then, but we were already leaving. Maybe we'll go back later, see if we can salvage anything, but...” Sighing, she turns and starts back towards the Belladonna. She looks tired, you think to yourself, tired and broken.

“Well,” Dwight mutters, lighting up a cigarette, “Now what, chief?”

Now there's a good question.

>I'm going to get some sleep. Somebody wake me when Tobias is up and about
>Now I'm going to... (Write in)
>Other

>>2745512
>Now I'm going to... (Write in)
Catch up with Hanson and Cammy (if alive)

>>2745512
Supporting >>2745522

>>2745512
>"I'm going to get some sleep. Wake me when Tobias does, or when you go to salvage their ship. I'd like to see what the Wyrm did to it."

Also Wyrms are rocks, Freddy, just like Pleonite. And I never said eggs. I was thinking hearts. Or brains.

“Hey, Zastava!” you call out, your voice causing the young captain to tense up, “Did Hanson make it out? What about Cammy?”

Zastava nods slowly. “It was a close call, but they both got out,” she confirms, “They're on the Belladonna now. Hanson was prowling about, causing trouble for my people. He scares them a little, I reckon. I... well, what were you asking about?”

“I'll see if I can calm him down a little,” you assure her. Zastava gives you a thankful nod before roaming back to her ship. Your crew starts to part ways, but you catch Freddy's arm before she can leave. “I never said that Pleonite was wyrm eggs,” you tell her quietly, “But a heart? Considering what I've seen of wyrms, that isn't nearly so implausible. Wyrms aren't natural creatures – it would be a mistake for us to consider them as such.”

“I... see,” the Iraklin replies slowly, clearly still unsure about a lot of things. “It doesn't really matter in the end, does it?” she decides, “Whether we understand them or not, we should stay away from wyrms as best we can. I'll ask around the rest of the crew, though, to see if they have any new thoughts.”

“Do that,” you agree, turning and following Zastava onto her ship.

-

“I'm starting to feel just about sick of the airship business,” Hanson growls as you enter the bustling common room. Most of the Belladonna's crew are here, along with several of Tobias' men. When he looks around and realises who he's talking to, Hanson lets out a bitter laugh. “Well, look who it is,” he remarks, slapping you roughly on the arm, “Our hero. If you hadn't been there to keep that monster away from us, I don't think we could have got nearly so many people out.”

“The engine room was a mess. When we landed, some of my crew got trapped in the wreckage. We had to haul them out, and that wasn't quick work,” Cammy adds, looking up from a nearby table. Her face is dark with oil and filth, her eyes seeming very white against the sooty backdrop. “You got any idea what the hell hit us?” she asks, “Because from what I've heard, it wasn't anything... normal. Not an airship, that's for damn sure.”

“You had a brush with a legend,” you reply, “For most people, it would be a once in a lifetime chance.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Hanson laughs, “Once was more than enough for me!” Gesturing to a seat at the table, he sits down and runs a hand over his face. Just for a moment, you see the weight of fatigue that threatens to crush him. “I'm serious though,” he mutters, “Maybe this is a sign, I should just quit while I'm ahead. There's got to be safer work out there somewhere, right? I hear that the Iraklins are looking for Nadir guides.”

“Not exactly safe work though,” Cammy points out, striking a match and lighting her cigarette.

“Safer than this,” Hanson counters, “At least then I can kill anything that wants to kill me.”

[1/2]

>>2745590
Yeah good luck killing smoke daemons Hanson

>>2745590
Yeah the Deep Forest sucks worse than usual right now Hanson.

>>2745590

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” you tell him, “The Deep Forest isn't a good place to be right now from what I've heard. Haven't you heard the stories?”

“Yeah, I know. Eishin's getting restless again, something like that,” the hunter grunts, angrily shrugging his shoulders, “Pisses me off. I'm just trying to make an honest living – mostly honest – and it feels like the world is trying to screw us all over. What happened, huh? It feels like everything is going downhill lately, and there's nothing any of us can do about it. What are we supposed to DO about something like this?”

This outburst is followed by an awkward silence, Cammy coughing weakly as she looks away. Inwardly wincing, you search for a way of changing the subject. “So, I have to ask,” you begin, leaning a little closer to the pair and lowering your voice, “Did either of you hear, or feel, anything... strange? Voices, perhaps, or anything out of the ordinary?”

Hanson and Cammy trade a glance, neither of them wanting to be the first one to speak. Eventually, though, Hanson clears his throat. “I didn't feel anything,” he tells you, “But I think Captain Mahdi might have. I heard him over the intercom, just as the ship was going down. He started off saying what you'd expect him to say – you know, warnings mostly – but then he... hell, I'll just say it straight. He started to lose it.”

“That's a harsh way of putting it,” Cammy argues, “He was afraid. I mean, we were all afraid.”

“It sounded like he was begging for forgiveness,” Hanson states bluntly, “Sort of “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it”. That kind of thing. If he was talking to that monster, I don't think it was listening to him.” Grimacing, Hanson leans back and gestures around at the crew. “These people aren't here because of apologies or forgiveness,” he tells you, “They're here because you put your ass on the line for us. That's what made the difference.”

Reaching across, Cammy touches the hunter on the arm. “Hey, come on,” she scolds, “That's over the line. Captain Mahdi did what he could – just setting us down on that island was good enough. You think that was easy, landing us on some tiny scrap of rock? Even in bright daylight, I wouldn't like to-”

“Captain Mahdi is awake!” a crewman breathlessly announces, calling out from the doorway, “He's going to be okay, everyone!”

A ragged cheer rises up in response to this, but it feels like a token effort - there's little energy in it. Scoffing quietly, Hanson slumps back in his seat. “You going to see him?” he asks you, “I figure you're the one he really wants to see right now.”

>Yeah, I'd better go and see him
>No, I should get back to my own crew
>Let me ask you both something before I go... (Write in)
>Other

>>2745662
>Yeah, I'd better go and see him
"Don't be too hard on the captain. The mere presence of a wyrm seems to mess with your head."

>>2745662
>Yeah, I'd better go and see him

>>2745662
>"Yeah, I'd better go see him."

Ask why he stole all those wyrm eggs to fuel his airship.

>>2745662
>Yeah, I'd better go and see him

“Yeah, I'm going to see him now,” you tell the pair, hesitating a moment before leaving. “Don't be too hard on him, though,” you add, “Being near a wyrm like that isn't easy. It messes with your head, does all kinds of strange stuff to you. You should be glad that things didn't end up any worse than they did.”

Leaving the pair to consider that, you follow the crewman – a young man who looks like he might pass out at any minute – to the Belladonna's private quarters. There, you find Tobias Mahdi sitting upright in bed. He's got several wounds visible on his face and arms, but most of them are just scratches and bruises – the usual sort of injuries someone might expect from an airship crash, in other words. You were expecting him to be resting, but he's hard at work studying a map in front of him.

“Irene, could you bring me a pen?” he asks without looking up, “I think I've got something here. It... it might be important.”

Taking a fountain pen and a sealed pot of ink off a nearby desk, you set it down in front of him. Looking up in surprise, Tobias' mouth opens in a silent gasp. “I'm not as pretty as Captain Zastava, but my bedside manner is perfectly acceptable,” you tell him, “I hear that things got pretty exciting today. I'd like to hear all about it – and considering that I might very well have saved your life out there...”

“I'm sorry, I just... I wasn't expecting to see you here,” Tobias blinks a few times, his dull eyes hinting at a dose of analgesia. Gathering his thoughts for a moment, he taps the map before him. “Back when we were having that awful storm, that's when I first saw it. Even then, even from just a glimpse of it, I knew that it was real – a real, live wyrm. Nobody would believe me, though, so I decided to...” pausing, he lets out a nervous laugh, “Well, to hunt it down, I suppose.”

“Don't tell me that you were trying to kill it,” you reply, “It's good to be confident, I know, but-”

“Oh good lord, no!” the young captain laughs again, startled and shocked by your suggestion, “I never wanted to kill it, just get some kind of proof. I got the best Imago device I could buy on short notice, and I thought maybe... some pictures would be good enough. Even if nobody believed them, I might be able to... you know... sell them.” Wincing, he rubs his head and glances across at a clay jug of pills nearby. Tearing his gaze away, he finally takes the pen from you and starts to examine the map again.

“So,” you prompt, “You got your Imago device, and you... what, you tried to track the wyrm down again?”

“Right. I went back to the northern shore, where I saw it the first time. I've been flying these skies for a few days now, looking for anything, any sign of it at all,” shuddering, Tobias pauses for a moment before adding, “Only, it ended up finding ME first.”

[1/2]

>>2745730

“Right before the wyrm appeared, it started to get cloudy – really cloudy, bad enough that I thought a storm was brewing. I almost landed the ship and sat it out, but then... I saw movement in the clouds. You know what I'm talking about, right? No airship moves like that, it's unmistakable,” Tobias sighs wistfully, like a boy fantasising about some beautiful woman he saw once. Realising that you're still looking at him, he mumbles something and continues his tale.

“After that... well, I don't know what to say. I followed it out to sea, although at times it felt like IT was the one following me. I'd see it out the starboard window, then I'd lose contact for a moment and it would appear at port. It was confusing, and... maybe I wasn't thinking straight. I've been running on hardly any sleep since... well, anyway,” a dark expression crosses the young captain's face here, “I didn't give the order to fire. I don't know who did. Maybe they were afraid, they thought we were in trouble, I don't know. All I know is, when we fired at the wyrm, everything changed. It drained a lot of power from our engines, but even so it did nothing. Just... nothing.”

“I wonder if they have some kind of natural shielding ability,” you muse, “Just like an airship, only... natural.”

“Well, whatever it was, it left us into a bad spot. We pushed the engines too hard, and I guess... something went wrong,” Tobias concludes, “There was an explosion. The next thing I knew, we were sinking through the sky. I just barely managed to guide the Steppenwolf down to land – not much land, but it was better than the open waters. After that... well, you know the rest. You were there, right?”

Two things come to mind. First of all, Tobias didn't mention anything about what Hanson called “losing it”. He might very well be ashamed – perfectly understandable, given the circumstances – or maybe it's something more than that. Second of all, if his story is correct then he crashed after having engine troubles – not because the wyrm attacked him. No matter how you look at it, things don't seem to add up.

Strange. Very strange.

“I really have to thank you, though,” Tobias adds, oblivious to your uneasy thoughts, “I wish I could give you some token of my appreciation now, but... I don't have much left. We might be able to salvage something from the Steppenwolf's remains, and we managed to recover the Imago device, but... I've got nothing left. I suppose I'll be in Irene's care for now!” Laughing nervously, the young captain toys with his pen and glances down at the map, as if it might hold all the answers written there.

Maybe it does - he's just not sharing them.

>Leave Tobias to get some proper rest
>Question him further... (Write in)
>Other

>>2745787
>Question him further... (Write in)
"You're not planning on having Irene hunt for more wyrms are you?"

>>2745787
>>Question him further... (Write in)
Did the Wyrm try speaking to you?

>>2745787
>Question him further... (Write in)
What's with the map?

“You're not about to have Irene hunt down any more wryrms for you, right?” you ask, offering Tobias a friendly smile. He returns the smile with one of his own – that's good, you think to yourself, you're all friends here.

“Oh no, I certainly won't be doing that. Even if I tried, I don't think she'd even consider it,” Tobias shakes his head quickly, “This whole thing... I hope it hasn't put her off flying in general. She said something of the sort as she was helping me aboard, but I didn't really catch all of it. Maybe it would be best if we stuck to safer work from now on.”

“Mm, safer work sounds like a good idea,” you agree quietly, “By the way, did the wyrm try to speak with you at all?”

“It... what?” Tobias yelps, “How did you know...”

“Because it tried speaking with me,” you explain, “Or at least, my ship. It was talking to “Helena” specifically. Said that it missed her. So, I'm guessing that it really did speak with you – I'm just wondering what it said.”

“It's... I don't know exactly. Even at the time, I thought I was imagining it. Stress, you know, delusions of some kind. I felt like I was being scolded - “why did you do that? What are you doing?”, that kind of thing. You know, it really reminded me of...” swallowing nervously, Tobias rubs at his temple for a moment before continuing, “It really reminded me of Miriam, I mean of Captain Hawthorn. When she was showing me the ropes, she'd scold me in the same sort of way.”

“And the wyrm talked to you directly?” you press, “It used your name?”

“Oh. No... no it didn't,” he slowly shakes his head, “It didn't use any names at all. I didn't really think too much of it at the time. I mean, I already thought I was hallucinating it all, so...”

“I heard that you were awake,” Zastava announces as she bursts through the door, “Are you... oh, Captain Vaandemere! I wasn't expecting... excuse me.” Bowing her head in apology, she makes a token effort at backing out the door before Tobias waves her over. Apparently this conversation is over. Just before you go, though, you have one last question for the young captain.

“Hey, Tobias,” you ask him, “What's with that map you keep looking at?”

“Ah...” Tobias glances down at it again, “It's an idea I had while Irene's doctor was looking me over. You see, I noted down the rough area where I saw the wyrm, and compared it with one other location. Captain Vaandemere, Irene, can you guess what I'm talking about?”

“Tobias, you shouldn't be straining yourself like this,” Zastava sighs, “It's not good for you to-”

“It's funny that we were talking about it, actually,” he interrupts, nodding firmly to you, “You see, this exact same location is where Miriam Hawthorn disappeared.”

>I'm going to pause things here for today. I'll continue this tomorrow, starting at the same usual time
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>2745833
The plot thickens

Thanks for running

>>2745833
Thanks for running!

Wyrms are people!
Pleonite is people!
Everything is made of people!

>>2745833
Thanks for running duder

>>2745833
How foolish of me. She wasn't a dragonrider. She IS the wyrm!

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A brief silence greets Tobias' claim, and then Zastava lets out a weary sigh. “Are you suggesting that a wyrm caused Miriam's airship to crash?” she asks, “That's... well, I won't say that it's impossible, but it's one hell of a stretch. Need I remind you that she was flying an experimental airship with extremely potent engines? Any number of things could have gone wrong!” Sitting down on the edge of his bed, she brushes her hand through the young man's hair. “You need rest,” she murmurs, “You're not thinking rationally right now. We should leave you alone so you can get some sleep.” Saying this, she glances around at you.

All of a sudden, you feel like a voyeur – an unwelcome guest. Murmuring an apology, you slip out and leave Miriam's two young apprentices to talk. To mourn their old teacher, perhaps.

-

When you return to the Spirit of Helena – and you find it hard to look at your ship the same way, after hearing what the wyrm had to “say” about it – you see some of the crew crawling over it like insects. Checking for damage, you assume, and fixing anything that they can. Stafford stands at the base of the ship, marking things off on a checklist as the crewmen shout their reports down to him. When you call out a greeting, he stiffly turns your way.

He always reminded you of a beetle, Stafford – one of the good kind, the hard working kind of beetle. “Minor damage, nothing that we'll need to bother the Guild with. We can patch the ship up here. A few hours, perhaps – done by morning, certainly,” he announces, “The chief engineer wanted to talk with you. She said that the... encounter... revealed some things to her. She seemed rather, ah, excited about it all.”

Good news, you think to yourself as you trek down to the engine room, you could really do with some good news. When you see the bright grin on Keziah's face, you feel a smile of your own tentatively forming.

“Boss, I've cracked it!” Keziah announces, flapping a hand at the mess of papers pinned to the engine room wall, “The wyrm, the shields, the engines... they're all connected!”

“Slow down and explain,” you order her, taking her gently by the hand and sitting her down on the floor. Sitting opposite her, you think about what she's trying to tell you. “The shields first. You mean the efficiency modifications?” you check, “And the engines, those are the high altitude engines you've been working on?”

“Aye, well, they're all connected to the same idea. It's like... steam condensin' on a window and turnin' into water. You can collect that water again, right?” the witch explains, forcing herself not to rush on ahead, “If we had a “condenser” for the engines, we could collect some of the energy that would otherwise be wasted, you see? You see where I'm going with this?”

She might as well be talking ancient Zenith.

[1/2]

>>2747396

Slowly, you figure out what Keziah is trying to tell you. Her “condenser” gathers up energy and feeds it back into the Helena's system, thus allowing your shields to function at increased efficiency. It would also counteract the effects of a wyrm draining the power from the engines, allowing you to function at a normal level. Finally, and she was less certain about this last point, the condenser would counteract the energy loss seen at exceptionally high altitudes.

“It's odd,” she remarks, “If my guess is correct, they operate in virtually identical ways. Kinda makes me wonder if there's a wyrn hiding up there on the Mountain!”

“So... this is good news,” you conclude, “We're making good progress, right?”

“Oh aye, we're makin' a whole lot of progress!” Keziah agrees with a bright grin, “Now I just gotta build the thing and see if it actually works!”

That saps some of your enthusiasm, and the witch is quick to allay your fears. “It willnae take long once I've got the parts on hand!” she assures you, “And we should be able to strip the... uh, what was it? The Eòin Eagal, we should be able to strip it for parts once we get our hands on it. Between this and the Megiddo cannon, I'm gonna be working overtime – you'd better appreciate everythin' I'm doing for you, boss!” She says this with a very dramatic flourish, pointing one slender finger right at your face. Looking at her hand for a moment, you slowly push it aside.

“You do realise how disrespectful that was, right?” you scold, “Treating a captain like this, on his very own ship... some people might say that it's disgraceful behaviour.”

“Huh?” Keziah asks, her eyes growing wide and confused, “What does Grace have to do with this?”

Sighing, you abandon the attempt at sounding serious. “Yes, thank you for all your hard work,” you tell her, “Without you, this would all be so much more difficult. We're all greatly in your debt, but I especially appreciate what you've done for me. Is that good enough for you, or do you want a pat on the head as well?”

Her cheeks darkening, Keziah splutters for a moment. “Well, it's a start!” she manages at last, “Aye, it's a good start!”

“I'm so glad,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Either missing or choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm, Keziah loudly thinks on this. “We'll be grounded for a few hours yet, Stafford says. I feel fine enough leavin' him in charge here,” she muses, “That means I've got a wee bit of time to myself. Ah, but what should I do with myself?”

>There's that stone tablet. I want to see if you can translate any of it
>Just take some time off and relax. We've all earned a bit of rest
>Why don't we go for a walk together? It might be nice to unwind a little
>Other

>>2747397
>Just take some time off and relax.
>I got stuff to do
I think it's time we told Blessings about How We Got The Airship

>>2747397
>Why don't we go for a walk together? It might be nice to unwind a little

>>2747397
>>Just take some time off and relax. We've all earned a bit of rest

>>2747403
Wait why? There isn't a reason to do that. The only time that should be told is if Miriam is actually alive.

>>2747397
>Why don't we go for a walk together? It might be nice to unwind a little

>>2747403
Please do not do this.

>>2747397
>Why don't we go for a walk together? It might be nice to unwind a little

>>2747410
>>2747412
spoilsports

Also, I don't think we're going to have TIME to tell him the very moment we verify Miriam's status.

>>2747403
No. We'll put that in our Will along with the Helena herself.

>>2747397
>Just take some time off and relax. We've all earned a bit of rest

>>2747419
That's why we DON"T verify Miriam's status.

>>2747419
That's fine. Even if he hears it from her it'll probably be the same damage.

>>2747419
>spoilsports

Are you insane? Why would we ever want to tell him?

>>2747429
I'm more confused on when everyone resolved never to tell him ever.

It raises like 3 different betrayal/distrust flags

>>2747435
I mean, if we do ever tell him, it should be when we pass the ship on to him or a similar situation. I really don't know why you think this situation is appropiate for this kind of conversation.

>>2747435
Maybe one day when we get him his own ship after taking him under our wing like Miriam did for Tobias and Irene, but now there is no reason to other than being honest for the sake of being honest and that you don't want him to learn the 'wrong' way.

>>2747397
>Why don't we go for a walk together? It might be nice to unwind a little.

“Take some time off and relax,” you suggest, “We've all earned a bit of rest. I might go for a walk, see if that helps me think some things through. What about you?”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, boss, but wasn't “relaxing” one of the reasons we came here in the first place?” Keziah counters, laughing a little to herself. Then, gesturing around at the engine room, she shrugs. “But seriously, a walk sounds nice. Just a quick one, mind you, and then I'll need to get right back to the grind. Makin' progress like this feels good, you know?” smiling to herself, she leans a little closer to you, “And it does feel like we're gettin' somewhere, doesn't it? It's pretty excitin', now that I think about it.”

“That's certainly one way of looking at it,” you agree with a wan smile, “I wonder if Tobias would say the same, though.”

“Ach, if he didnae want any risk or danger he'd be off livin' on a farm somewhere!” Keziah chuckles, “Go on, I know just the place to go. A nice wee spot out in the woods, and I reckon it'll be even nicer by night. These papers can wait.” Saying this, she flaps her hand at the disorganised mass of papers. You'll never understand how she can find anything in such a mess, but she doesn't seem to mind.

Everyone has their own ways of working, you suppose.

-

Taking a gas lantern to light your way, you leave the Spirit of Helena and amble out towards the outskirts of the town. The night soon presses in on you, kept at bay by the lantern's light. You keep the flame turned down low, the glow it produces just barely bright enough to illuminate the ground beneath your feet. The darkness doesn't bother you – if anything, it feels better this way. It almost feels like the rest of the world has faded away, leaving the pair of you alone in a formless darkness.

You must be tired – your mind tends to wander like this when you've not rested in a while. Really, you know that you should be spending the time until morning in bed, but your tiredness has given way to a kind of restless energy. Talking, breaking the silence that hangs over you, feels somehow wrong, and the pair of you walk in silence for a long while. It's only when the forest looms up before you that Keziah speaks up.

“I met a kid in these woods earlier. You know, when I was checkin' out the stones they had here. They told me about a place – like a pond, I guess,” she explains, peering down at the start of a path, “The pool that this whole town is named after. Kind of a local landmark, they said.”

Making a tiny adjustment to the lantern's flame, you gaze out at the path before you. You don't sense any of the Deep Forest's hostility here, none of the danger or menace that Eishin's territory has to offer. This is a safe place, you realise, a good place to be.

But even so, you check your weapons before entering the woods.

[1/2]

>>2747458

The trail leads you along a winding path, the trees pressing in around you like an embrace. At points the path gets so narrow that you have to walk single file, easing yourself around branches that pluck at your clothes. The ground underfoot feels soft with recent rain, and the whole area has a healthy smell of life and vitality. When the path opens up once more, you find a large stone half-buried in the soil. A standing stone once, you assume, although some ancient force has since toppled it.

“This is where I got those rubbings,” Keziah murmurs, nodding to the stone. Her accent, her armour, has fallen away to show her real voice – a soft, warm voice with a musical lilt to it. “Grace helped, of course,” the witch adds, “She's a quick learner, she already knows a good bit of Nadir script. We've not had a proper look at it, but we were able to translate a little of that stone tablet you brought back. There was a name on it, probably the name of a daemon.”

“Is it a name that I could pronounce?” you ask drily, circling around the stone and following the next branch of the path.

“Hashanah An-Nahl, whose sweetness drives men to destruction,” Keziah purrs, “A bit of a mouthful, isn't it?”

“Let's... not call that one up,” you suggest, “I'm not a huge fan of destruction.”

Laughing softly to herself, Keziah leads the way deeper into the darkness.

-

Brightpool's namesake is a strange sight to behold. The pool isn't huge, maybe two dozen yards from end to end, but the water seems to shine with a warm golden glow. Even when you snuff out the lantern's flame, the light from the pool serves to illuminate the clearing. Sitting down beside the pool, you peer down into the water and see darting shapes within. Not fish, you realise, but large insects. Something like insects, at least.

“Once I've got a working prototype of the condenser, I was thinking of selling the design to the Guild,” Keziah announces as she sits beside you, “It'll get us a little extra coin. We won't be losing out on an advantage either – knowing the Guild, they'll spend a few years testing it before they even consider selling it. The thing is, I need a name for it – something to put on the documents.”

“A tough one,” you reply, “When it came to naming my first airship, it took me days to decide what to call it.”

“Actually, I already had an idea,” the witch says slowly, cautiously, “I was thinking of calling it the “Vaandemere Condenser”. I... I mean, I wouldn't have been able to make it without your help and... well, the “Keziah Condenser” just doesn't sound right! So, ah, what I mean is... what do you think?”

With expectant eyes, Keziah awaits your answer.

>It's a fine name, and an honour
>I don't care for it. It's your work, not mine
>I think... (Write in)
>Other

>>2747501
>It's a fine name, and an honour

>>2747501
>I think... (Write in)
How about Kez-Vaan Condenser? No?

>>2747501
>Really, you should name it after yourself.
>If you don't like how “Keziah Condenser” sounds, well, I'll just have to make you a Vaandemere.

>>2747512
>>2747501
yes

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>>2747512

>>2747501
I don't think either of them would come up with this name, but Pneuma Condenser is my vote. Refers to both wind and spirits, which I think is appropriate for pleonite.....gas(?)

>>2747524
Kez bestgurl
>I dont care for it. You should put your name on it. You can have nice things you know

>>2747512
>By marrying Maeve of course! We'll get her last name changed and retroactively yours!

>>2747501
yes to >>2747512
perfect

If it works as well as Keziah thinks it might work, this condenser has the potential to be a truly significant invention. Something that allows airships to safely reach unprecedented altitudes would be a huge leap forwards for current technology – and to have your name attached to it? It's certainly not something that she should be offering lightly... and she isn't. One look in her eyes is enough to tell you that she's deadly serious about this.

“I'm torn,” you reply slowly, “I'm honoured that you thought of me, and it really is a fine name, but...”

“But?” Keziah prompts, a hint of nervousness stealing into her inhuman eyes.

“But I still think it should be named after you,” you tell her, the beginnings of a sly smile forming on your lips, “And if you really don't like “Keziah Condenser”, then... well, I'll just have to make you a Vaandemere, won't I?” Her jaw dropping, Keziah stares at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. Words fail to come, no matter how much she tries to force something – anything – out. “No?” you continue, your tone teasing now, “What about the Kez-Vaan Condenser, then?”

“Wha... but... you...” Keziah stammers, “Hey Milos, c'mon, don't joke around like that...”

“Who's joking?” you reply with a breezy shrug, “You deserve nice things as well, you know. I don't want to take the credit for your achievements either. It should be your name on it – all you'll need to do is change your name when Maeve and I marry. It works out perfectly, don't you thi-”

You don't get the chance to finish this sentence, with Keziah punching you hard on the arm. Torn between laughing and cursing you out, she gives you another half-hearted blow before collapsing backwards and covering her face. “You're the worst, the absolute worst!” she groans, still trying not to laugh, “I can't believe you! You... you...” The dam breaks here, and a tide of laughter bubbles out of the young witch. It takes a while, but eventually she manages to regain some of her composure. Sitting up and wiping the tears of mirth from her streaming eyes, Keziah twists around and looks at her back.

“Look at this, filthy with grass and mud!” she scolds, flapping a hand at her loose shirt, “This was clean on yesterday... or maybe the day before that, it doesn't matter. The point is, you'd better take responsibility for this!”

“Oh, of course,” you assure her, “When we break open that vault and empty it out, I'll buy you a new shirt. Consider that a promise, from me to you.”

Pouting for a moment more, Keziah sticks out her hand. “Shake on it,” she insists, “It's not a promise until we shake on it!”

Sighing wistfully, you take her hand. As quick as a striking viper, Keziah yanks you forwards and pulls you down to the damp grass. “Got you!” she chuckles, flopping down next to you and looking you in the eye, “Now we're even!”

[1/2]

>>2747573

Lying there, bathed in the golden light of the pool and feeling the damp grass against your skin, you see Keziah's expression slowly change. It's such a tiny change, yet vast at the same time. A touch of fear, tempered with excitement, steals its way back into her eyes, and her smile takes on a deeper feeling. Her thoughts brush up against yours, not as words but as sensations – a soft warmth, the gentle weight of a hand on your arm, the faintest brush of wind against bare flesh...

“Keziah,” you murmur, “Are you trying to suggest something?”

“I don't know,” she counters, mischief shining in her eyes, “Why don't you tell me?”

Letting out a low laugh, you roll onto your back and close your eyes. “I'm thinking, I'm thinking...” you say aloud, pressing one hand to your temple, “I can see your thoughts now. You're thinking... your butt is starting to get damp, and it's annoying you. You're thinking that if it hadn't been raining, this would be a perfect moment. You-” A gentle weight falls on you, causing you to open your eyes again. Keziah sits atop you, straddling your waist and looking down at you.

“I guess you're technically right,” she concedes with a rueful smile, “My clothes are damp and dirty. Yours are too, I reckon. So... what should we do about it?”

Her question hangs in the air for a moment, the implication more than obvious. What should you do about it?

>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little
>I think we should head back to the ship and change
>Other

>>2747632
>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little

>>2747632
>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little

>>2747632
here we go I guess
>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little
let's see if we can make her afterglow so hard the engine charges a bit

>>2747632
Well obviously we need to do some laundry at the laundromat. Duh.

>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little

>>2747632
>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little

Kiss da girl

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>>2747642

>>2747632
>I think we should take them off, let them dry a little

oh man, first romance in a moloch quest?

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>>2747647

>>2747649
Sleeping Gods had it and Northern Beasts kinda had it.

>>2747649
There was one in the Sleeping Gods quest. Northern Beasts too, technically.

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>>2747650

>>2747649
>>2747652
>>2747654
Even Heavenly Child had some dating.

>>2747657
I remember the MC turning down everyone, though (this can only happen in Moloch's quests, honestly).

>>2747661
What about grooming an underaged boy without proper parental figures?

>>2747661
'Left ambiguous intentionally' is the word I'd use. Some people liked Pietr, some people didn't so Moloch found a middle ground.

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>>2747632
Keep in mind, Moloch, you can always write the sex scene in pastebin.

“I think we should take them off,” you reply, nodding towards one of the nearby trees, “Hang them up, let them dry off for a bit.”

“Sounds good to me,” Keziah replies, tugging her tunc up over her head and throwing it aside with a single motion. She's bare underneath, the mottled shades of her Nadir scales glinting in the pool's light. Her scales have spread somewhat, rising up to cradle her slight bust like a corset. Pushing her messy hair back with one hand, the witch grabs the front of your shirt with the other and tugs. “C'mon,” she teases, “You're not going to make me take that off for you, are you?”

“Have a little patience,” you scold, fumbling your coat off and leaving it lying on the grass. It's the closest thing you've got to a blanket, after all. Then, grabbing Keziah by her slender, bare arms, you roll around and lean over her. Her hands immediately go to your shirt buttons, trembling a little as she plucks at them. The night air feels cool against your bare skin as you tug the shirt off, every one of your senses seeing to have been immeasurably sharpened by the hear of the moment. Grunting softly, Keziah begins to wriggle out of her loose breeches and soon, she wears nothing except a thin slip of material around her waist.

“Hey, Milos?” she murmurs, her hands resting lightly against your bare chest.

“Yes?” you ask, meeting her eyes and seeing the trace of fear that lingers there.

“Don't hurt me,” Keziah whispers.

-

Later, after, you sit by the edge of the pool and watch as the glowing insects dart back and forth. Neither of you has said a word since, but your feelings have been flitting freely between you. Feelings of contentment, awkwardness, amusement and embarrassment. You feel young again, and strangely innocent. For once, you don't feel the sick, uneasy knowledge that you made a terrible mistake. Finally opening your mouth to speak aloud, you find yourself wondering just what you're going to say.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning,” you admit quietly, “Wyrms, daemons, gods and prophecies... sometimes it feels like it's all beyond my control, that I'm just being swept along with the tide. I've kept my head above water for this long, but how much longer?”

“I've always felt like that. At least, a little,” Keziah agrees, her voice faint and solemn, “Ever since I was young, I've been living within that awful prophecy. I've been walking a path that was set out for me, long before I was even born, and do you know what?” Turning, she looks you in the eye. “So long as you've got one person who's always going to be there for you, it's not so bad,” she breathes, “So long as I'm not in this on my own, I think things are going to work out okay. For both of us.”

“I hope you're right,” you reply, reaching out and holding onto her.

[1/2]

>>2747690
You didn't hang the clothes before going at it after all, did you? Now they're all damp! And dirty!

>>2747707
Tis a small price to pay

>>2747690

“Oh!” snapping her fingers, Keziah straightens up, “Have you got a coin on you?”

“What, so now I've got to pay?” you groan, “If you'd told me that before...”

“You ass!” she laughs, punching you on the shoulder, “It's for luck – you throw a gold coin into the pool, and you'll have good luck. That's what I was told, at least. So... you got a coin on you?”

“Check my breeches,” you tell her, pointing towards where they hang from a tree branch. You're both wearing... well, not very much at all. You might not be swinging in the breeze, but you'd be picked up for indecency in a heartbeat if you were in a Carth city. As Keziah pats down your pockets, you take a long look at her. There's another patch of scales on her back, just below the base of her neck, but your eyes drift to somewhere lower.

“Enjoying the view?” the witch teases, not even looking around at you, “Ah, here it is!” Holding up the single gold coin you found in Nuada's tomb, she hurries across and sits down next to you. Hesitating for a few brief seconds, she passes the coin over to you. “Here, you do it,” she whispers, “It's your coin, after all. It might not work if I throw it in.”

“This is a historical artefact, you know,” you point out, “It might not be worth a fortune, true, but...” Ending this thought with an indulgent sigh, you turn the coin over in your hands before tossing it up into the air. Rising up in a high arc, the coin spins end over end as it drops down into the pool with a splash. Startled by the sudden impact, the glowing insects explode out of their home and flit wildly around you. It's a beautiful sight, with a thousand tiny lights dancing through the air as they circle the clearing. Keziah gasps in delight, swaying back and forth with childish excitement.

“They must be terrified!” she giggles, watching as the glowing insects slow their mad flight and start to sink back down into their pool.

“Like if the Mountain fell out of the sky and landed on our heads,” you muse, not quite sure why those words come to mind. Abruptly blinking the thought away, you reach around and light the gas lantern again before standing and tugging your shirt down the branch you hung it on. It's dry enough now, although you could never call it clean. “Good enough,” you mutter as you slip it on and button it up.

“Oh right, yeah. We should be gettin' back now,” Keziah yawns, watching as the last insect sinks beneath the surface of the water, “I forgot all about that work...”

“Well,” you tell her with a dirty smirk, “We had other things on our minds.”

>I'm going to have to take a brief pause here while I work some things out. So, next post should be up in an hour or so.
>I apologise for this delay. Your patience is appreciated!

>>2747774
Alright, see you then Moloch. And remember; >>2747682

>>2747774
We shall wait.

>>2747774
Thanks for the miloxkez arc.

A light rain is falling by the time you arrive back at the ship, but you barely notice it. Keziah lags behind you a little, apparently to buy something at the town's general store – a pretty feeble excuse, considering that the shop is likely to be closed at this time of day. No, you get the feeling that she's come over all shy. It's funny, in a way. Before now, she would be all too happy to play along with whatever joking insinuations were thrown her way. Now that she actually has something to boast about, though...

It's fine. If she thinks she's avoiding trouble this way, then she's sorely mistaken – she's just postponing the inevitable.

Caliban is sitting on the Helena's cargo bay ramp when you arrive, his attention focused on the bone flute in his hands. He doesn't look up as you approach, but he does call out a solemn greeting. Quickly returning his greeting, you hurry aboard. “Nice night for a walk,” the hunter adds as you pass him, “You're missing a button, by the way.”

Looking down at your shirt, you realise that he's right. How you never noticed that before is a mystery. Then again, just as you told Keziah, you both had other things on your mind. Primly closing up your coat, you hurry off to your quarters. Time, you decide, to get some sleep. In the morning, you can decide on your next move.

-

The next morning you take a leisurely breakfast in the waterfront manor, your entire team – and Mara – sitting around a long, stately table. How many important dinners were held here, you wonder, how many discussions were held and plans agreed upon? Maybe none – for all you know, the house's former owner had never entertained guests and this grand dining room had just been for show. But then, who would they be showing off to?

All very interesting questions, you're sure, but unimportant right now.

You feel young again, sneaking glances at Keziah as you're eating and smiling every time you meet her eyes. It's not something you do deliberately, but the habit seems to sneak up on you every time your attention starts to wander. For what it's worth, the others don't seem to notice that much – either that, or they're tactful enough to pretend. Freddy lectures Blessings on the best methods of early morning exercise while Grace scolds Gunny for smoking at the table. Caliban eats quickly and silently as Mara, sitting opposite him, loudly devours her breakfast. All in all, it's a perfectly domestic scene.

“Money,” Mara grunts, speaking from around a mouthful of smoked fish, “You'll get your money when we're back in Monotia. I'll need to borrow your radio, to let the Morey know that we're on the way. He'll be glad to hear that there were no problems.”

“Oh sure,” Gunny chuckles, “No problems, little lady. No problems at all.”

[1/2]

>>2747925
Did we ever pick up the infirmary upgrades while we were down in Nadir?

>>2747929
>I don't think I specifically mentioned it, but we would have collected them, yes.

>>2747925

Packing up and returning to the Spirit of Helena – for good this time – you find Irene Zastava waiting for you. She looks tired, like she's been up all night seeing to both her crew and the new additions. “I'm glad I caught you,” she begins, “Tobias and I, we're going to be heading up to the Pastona Union for the time being. Not working or anything, just... recovering. Thinking of just what the hell we're going to do next. We have Tobias' Imago device, if he managed to get any good shots of the wyrm then maybe... maybe we'll have something to sell. It's a start.”

“You're never down and out until you give up hope,” you advise her, “Take it from me – I've suffered more than a few blows in my time.”

“I understand. We're not giving up, we're just... well, Tobias wanted me to tell you – if we can sell the pictures, he wants you to get half of whatever we make,” Zastava continues, “You've earned it. We'll... we'll be in touch.” Giving you one last faltering nod, she turns and marches off towards the Belladonna.

-

The flight back to Monotia doesn't take long, and neither does Mara's radio call. Barking and snarling into the radio set, she gives her report in a form that only Morey himself would be able to understand. When you land at the aerodrome, two burly thugs are waiting to take the crate of slime from you. One of them doesn't seem to have any neck at all, but that's not uncommon for Morey's men.

“Excellent work,” Mara purrs, taking up a position between her escorts and nodding to you, “Your pay – well earned, I would say.”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that this was all a pretext – an excuse for you to escort Mara on her brief holiday. Still, you're not about to complain too much. Money is money, after all.

Funds gained: 1
Current Funds: 4

As Mara swaggers off, you hear footsteps behind you. Caliban emerges from the cargo hold, watching her leave with a faint sigh of relief. “Glad to be shot of her,” he remarks, “Not that it's anything to do with her personally – well, maybe a little – but I feel like we can talk freely now. No need to watch what we say around her. I get the feeling that that one wouldn't have any problem with passing our secrets on to her boss. Not what you'd call loyal, I think.”

“Not loyal to us, at least,” you agree, “Well, now we can go back to business.”

“About that. We've got news from Azimuth – the Guild will be bringing the Eòin Eagal in soon, we can take care of that whenever we like,” Caliban explains, “And Keziah wanted to bring that stone slab to her mother - she'd know more about it than any of us. What's the word?”

>Let's focus on the key fragments for now. Get everyone together so we can talk
>We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage
>We'll go to Sybile and meet up with Maeve
>Other

>>2747974
>We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage

>>2747974
>We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage
Getting the parts to build the condenser will be very useful for fragment hunting.

>>2747974
>We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage

Best to be prepared for more Wyrm drive bys

>>2747974
>We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage

“We're heading up to Azimuth to take care of that salvage,” you tell him, “Once we've got the Helena upgraded and prepared for anything, we won't need to fear any wyrms that get in our way.” Pausing, you think on this boast for a moment. “Except we don't know how to kill them yet,” you admit, “And all the shields in the world won't stop them from smashing us out of the air. So... we'll call that a work in progress.”

“Of course, captain,” Caliban agrees, his voice deadpan, “I'd want to put off meeting the parents for as long as possible as well.”

“You...” you groan, “You were waiting for an excuse to use that line, weren't you?”

“Oh yes,” he confirms, “And the best is yet to come.”

-

While Dwight naps in the chair beside you, you fly the Spirit of Helena up into Azimuth. It's perfect flying weather today, with a milky blue sky garlanded by lacy veils of cloud. Not a hint of bad weather in sight. Humming softly – and tunelessly – to yourself, you reach out and brush Keziah's mind with your own. She's fast asleep, dreaming about... well, she's dreaming. Drawing back, you glance around at the sound of the bridge door opening. Blessings stands in the doorway, dithering for a moment before you gesture for him to enter.

“It's a nice morning, isn't it?” he says as he sits beside you, peering at Dwight with vague concern, “Days like these make me thankful for... everything, really. For the chance to enjoy the world from an airship, rather than from the window of my bedroom.”

An airship that is rightfully his, you think to yourself. The thought surprises you. How long has it been since you thought about the little scam you pulled with Salazar? A long time, that's for sure. “When I was a kid, I'd spend these days roaming the grounds of the family estate,” you reply vaguely, “At least, when I wasn't stuck inside with some lesson or another. My old man, for all his sins, didn't want an uneducated son.”

“You should be grateful for that,” the boy tells you. There's actually a note of chastisement in his voice – the boy you met back then would never have dared speak to you like that. “Well, ah, maybe I'm just a little sensitive about these sorts of thing,” he continues with a nervous laugh, immediately spoiling the moment of strength, “It's different, losing your father compared with never knowing him at all...”

You have a terrible feeling of where this conversation is going. The last thing you want right now is to find out that you've become some kind of surrogate father for young Blessings. Fortunately, the radio crackles before the boy can say anything more. “You're approaching Iraklin airspace!” the voice on the radio warns, “Identify yourself immediately, or we WILL fire on you.”

“Some things never change,” you sigh, taking the mic, “This is the Spirit of Helena, under the command of...”

[1/2]

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>>2748039
>Of course, captain,” Caliban agrees, his voice deadpan, “I'd want to put off meeting the parents for as long as possible as well.”

>>2748059
Well not everyone's in-laws are fucking rocks now are they

So Who wants to bet Keziah is going to have her legs fuse next?

>>2748039

“The Faulkner Line,” Freddy announces proudly, looking out over the line of blocky concrete structures. The barrels of cannons protrude from the bunkers, aggressively jutting out in the direction of Carth airspace, while large generators vent steam into the air. “Magnificent, isn't it?” she adds, “Built to defend against...” Frowning, her voice trails off. You can well understand her uncertainty.

Built to defend against what?

“Sure is impressive,” Gunny remarks, admiring the guns, “But what if an attack came from, I don't know, the north?”

“Faulkner... I don't know that name,” Grace muses, “I think I've heard it before, but I can't exactly place it.”

“Captain Faulkner. He served in Nadir, where he was captured by Deep Forest barbarians. He was missing, presumed dead, for over a year before he managed to escape their grasp. The defensive line was named in honour of his unbreakable resolve,” Freddy explains, “He's retired now, I think, but he occasionally gives lectures at Odyssey Point. Most of our military doctrine relating to fighting in Nadir is based off his reports.”

“Sounds awfully like propaganda to me,” Caliban mutters, “You don't just survive in the Deep Forest for a whole year. It just doesn't happen.”

Leaving the others to bicker, you look away from the defensive installation and focus on the rest of the area. The rest of the Pastona Union might be relatively unchanged by the Iraklin occupation, but Rasnic is almost unrecognisable. Almost the entire region seems like a military base, from the Faulkner Line to the airship repair yards on the northernmost point. Camp Stalwart is the new local capital, renamed from...

Actually, you can't remember what it used to be called. Rasnic was never a place you thought about very much before the Annexation War. Or after it, if you're being totally honest. Turning your gaze to the aerodrome announcement board, you skim it over for any interesting news. A few things jump out at you. First of all, Camp Stalwart has a small “cultural centre” with an exhibit on Captain Faulkner. You can just imagine bored children being herded around it, taught all about some war hero they're never likely to meet. Second of all, the head of the garrison here at Camp Stalwart – Marshal Jens Bickermann, apparently – is looking for freelance assistance. Work, in other words.

“Boss, I'll be headin' north to the shipyards,” Keziah says, tapping you on the shoulder, “Takin' a wee look at the Eòin Eagal and see what's what, basically. What are you plannin'?”

>I'll come with you. I never had a proper chance to examine the Eòin Eagal
>I'm going to this cultural centre. I'm curious about this Faulkner
>The Marshal here is offering work. I'm going to speak with him
>Other

>>2748087
>I'll come with you. I never had a proper chance to examine the Eòin Eagal

>>2748087
>>I'm going to this cultural centre. I'm curious about this Faulkner
Like Caliban said, you can't just survive in the Deep Forest. Now I'm curious.

>>2748087
>I'm going to this cultural centre. I'm curious about this Faulkner
>The Marshal here is offering work. I'm going to speak with him

Can't be too hard to do both since they are in the same area.

>>2748087
>I'll come with you. I never had a proper chance to examine the Eòin Eagal

>>2748098
This.

>>2748087
>The Marshal here is offering work. I'm going to speak with him

Gotta earn those dolla dolla bills. Our estate costs like 50 funds.

>>2748087
Go to the eoin (ask maqsue to come?), send caliban and blessings and freddy to investigate the faulkner thing?

>>2748131
Nah I want to be present.

I know some of you want your deito but it's time to get back to work. We'll have plenty of more opportunities.

>>2748109
I feel we should avoid sleeping too much with the iraklin.
But maybe its good to have any entry possibilities we can for odessy point.

“I'm going to check out this cultural centre they have here,” you reply, gesturing towards the announcement board, “I'm curious about this Faulkner. Caliban has a point – surviving for a whole year in enemy territory? I'm not convinced. I'd like to learn a little more about him.”

“Good to hear that you'll be consulting an unbiased source,” Caliban remarks, crossing over to join you. Throwing one arm around your shoulder, he leans heavily on you and gives the witch a predatory smile. “I'll come along too, make sure that there's someone around to keep the captain safe,” he assures Keziah, “You don't need to worry about a thing!”

“I wasnae worried,” she counters, “You boys are headin' to a museum, not a battlefield... although with the Iraklins, you cannae be sure about that.” Shaking her head in amusement, she gives you a warm smile before going her own way. “You need anything from me, just reach out,” she wordlessly adds, her thoughts brushing up against your own, “I'll always be here for you, Milos.”

“The marshal here is offering work as well,” you tell Caliban, “Might as well check that out while we're in the area. Could be a chance at easy money.”

“Definitely,” Caliban agrees, “It can't be cheap, getting a family home and settling down.”

How many of these jokes does he have?

-

The Camp Stalwart Cultural Centre is somewhat more impressive than you had been expecting, and definitely more varied. There's an exhibit about Captain Faulkner, true, but there's also a collection of local artefacts and a history of the region. Almost despite yourself, you admit to being impressed. You sense Consul Hess' gentle touch here, his willingness to rule with discretion.

Although you were right about the children – there's an entire class of them here, swarming about and talking amongst themselves as a single harried guide tries to herd them along. You immediately feel a measure of sympathy for the young guide, especially when you see a brass plaque warning about fragile items. Energetic children, fragile items of significant worth, a single overworked guide... it all looks like the beginnings of a disaster.

If there is one stroke of mercy, it's that you're going in separate directions – the children are touring the local history wing while you're focusing on Faulkner. Even so, their riotous shouts are muffled rather than muted altogether.

“You might want to get used to this,” Caliban suggests, nudging you with his elbow, “Children, you know?”

“You're never going to stop...” you begin, stopping short as an Imago catches your eye. It's a large one, with the grainy quality that suggests an older device was used. There are a number of people in the image, but the focus is clearly on one single man.

Captain Erwin Faulkner.

[1/2]

>>2748153

If a ghost could ever have been given physical form, you feel like it might look a little like Captain Faulkner. His face is half hidden by a swath of filthy, ragged bandages, while his one remaining eye stares blankly out into empty space. Gaunt features suggest borderline starvation, while every inch of exposed skin you can see has some kind of stain or wound. Amazingly, he still wears the tattered remains of an Iraklin uniform beneath a mangy wolf pelt.

The Imago must have been taken shortly after he emerged from the Deep Forest. Certainly, he looks like a man who has just escaped from an impossible ordeal.

“He doesn't look so tough,” Caliban mutters, studying the Imago of the wounded, emaciated, exhausted soldier, “I could take him in a fight, no problem.”

Murmuring a vague acknowledgement, you study the writing next to the Imago. According to his own account, Faulkner had spent several months as a captive of one particular group of barbarians. It was only when King Eishin learned about him that he was given a chance of escape. While he was being taken from his original captors and brought to Eishin's territory, Faulkner had managed a desperate escape. Lost and gravely wounded within the dark heart of the Deep Forest, it had been several more months before he had been able to reconnect with Iraklin forces.

“It's all very vague,” you murmur to Caliban, gesturing to the various other information boards dotted about the hall, “All this talk of dangerous combat and daring escape, but very little solid detail.”

“I told you. Propaganda,” the hunter shakes his head, “All the time I was at Camp Prosperity, I never heard of him. Maybe they don't tell his story to the boots on the ground – after all, they're the ones likely to fall into the same crap he did. It's a nice bit of heroism to warm the hearts of those back home, the ones who don't need to worry about those sorts of risk.” Laughing bitterly, he gives you a shrug. “I must sound like the land's biggest cynic,” he remarks, “But I know what I'm talking about. I've spent time as a captive in the Deep Forest, and it nearly killed me. Those were days. Days, captain - not weeks or months... days.”

Considering his words, you return to the Imago of Captain Faulkner and his single, haunted eye. Maybe his story IS exaggerated, but you feel certain of one thing – something terrible happened to him out in the Deep Forest. You just don't know what.

>I think I'm going to pause things here for today. Into the Skies will continue tomorrow, at the usual sort of time
>I apologise for the delays today!

>>2748184
Thanks for running senpai.

>>2748184
Thanks for running!

Did Milos and Keziah remember to use protection?

Which crewmembers figured out what happened?

>>2748184
Thanks for running!

>>2748184
How would kez rates milos's performance?

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>>2748184
So
We getting that lewd pastebin or what?

>>2748208
Wouldn't it be better to leave it to your imagination?

You thirsty muthafucka.

>>2748214
No, gimme pastebin. This is important to the story, I need it.

>>2748194
>Did Milos and Keziah remember to use protection?
Since when does Milos do anything safely?
>Which crewmembers figured out what happened?
Pretty much just Caliban at first. Of course, word gets around on a ship like the Spirit of Helena

>>2748204
I can't imagine that she'd be crude enough to give him a rating, but she's say that they need more practice together. Lots and lots of practice.

>>2748208
Hard to say. I have very little experience with writing the spicy stuff, so I really can't promise anything.
An attempt will be made, at least

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>>2748227
>An attempt will be made, at least
EXCITE
I have full faith in your abilities.

>>2748227
>but she's say that they need more practice together. Lots and lots of practice.

Surprised She didn't drink the entire lake up with that thirst of hers.

Still can't say I disapprove.

>>2748227
I can't believe Milos finally fucked the witchery right out of Keziah.

>>2748184
Thanks for running!

How long ago did Caliban start preparing marriage jokes?

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>>2749633
The moment he saw the both of em in one spot.

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High ranking Iraklin officers tend to have a fairly specific look about them, a type. They tend to be lean and hard, with sharp features and noble airs. There are exceptions, certainly, but this tends to be the common look. You couldn't say why it's so common – maybe the Iraklins promote the ones who look the part, or maybe the job wears away any trace of individuality. Whatever the reason, you have an idea of what Marshal Bickermann might look like long before you ever meet him.

An idea that is utterly, entirely wrong.

Marshal Bickermann is a large man, broad and powerful beneath a soft layer of fat. His face is bullish and unkind, with long and colourless hair pulled back into an ill-advised ponytail. Still, despite his unlovely appearance, he has the air of a ruthlessly efficient administrator.

“Yes, I posted a request for a freelancer,” he begins, his voice measured and unhurried, “There are certain matters that my own soldiers cannot handle. An outsider like yourself will be better suited to resolving the issues with... discretion.” Sizing you up, Bickermann looks you over before glancing aside to Caliban, who waits a few paces away. “Your bodyguard?” the marshal asks, “Does he have experience with tracking?”

“Some experience, yes,” you offer cautiously, “Is that relevant?”

“It may be,” Bickermann replies, “I don't like to rule out any options at this stage.” Reaching into his desk, the marshal takes out a slender folder and sets it in front of you. There's an Imago attached, showing a fairly generic young man. “Earnest Driessen,” he explains, tapping the folder with one broad finger, “We arrested him a week ago, but he died in out custody three days ago. Suicide. He was a member of an anarchist group, a group who we believe to be still active. When we arrested him, he was investigating the Faulkner line with the intent of sabotage.”

You can see where this is going. “You want the rest of his group,” you guess, “Is that right?”

“That is so. An outsider may be able to make inquiries that an Iraklin soldier cannot. Additionally, there is a matter of... internal mistrust. Driessen was able to kill himself with a blade someone smuggled into his cell. As such, I cannot rule out that a member of his group has infiltrated. You've come at a convenient time, Captain Vaandemere,” Bickermann tents his hands and leans forwards, studying you once more, “This isn't the first time that you've hunted anarchists for us.”

This again. Sometimes, you wonder if you'll ever be free from this – the Pastonne who hunts his own kind. It's a hell of a reputation to get. Better than being a wanted criminal, perhaps, but... not by much.

[1/2]

>>2750336

“Captain,” Caliban mutters, rising and drawing a little closer, “A word?”

You glance a question to Bickermann, who gestures for you to rise. Allowing Caliban to lead you a few paces away, you clear away your bitter thoughts and focus on the present moment. “What's the problem?” you ask in a low, level tone, “Do you smell trouble?”

“No, I don't – and that's the problem,” the hunter tells you, “I don't think things are exactly as they seem here. Call it a hunch – because shit, I don't have any evidence for this – but this whole job seems like bad news. You know me, captain, I don't shy away from spilling blood. That''s not the problem here. Just... I don't know. Keep your wits about you.”

“Will do,” you promise him, “Let me know if anything else jumps out at you.” Returning to Marshall Bickermann's desk, you sit and give the officer an apologetic smile. “I have to ask,” you begin, “What exactly does this job involve? Simply finding these anarchists, or... dismantling their group?”

“Confirmation of their location will be sufficient. Learn where and when they meet, or find a list of their members. A witness willing to confess his crimes would also serve our purposes. We can handle the prosecution ourselves,” Bickermann pauses for a moment, rubbing the soft flesh of his neck as he thinks. “We have no shortage of manpower here, although we lack certain... investigative specialists,” he continues, “Should you accept this mission, you will be provided with the resources you require.”

“What if he was acting alone?” Caliban asks bluntly, looking up from where he sits, “What then?”

“We have strong evidence to suggest that he was not alone,” Bickermann replies slowly, “However, if you can cast that evidence into doubt, then... we may have to reconsider our investigation. However, until you accept this mission, I'm limited in how much I can share with you. You understand the position we're all in – information must be kept safe. Will you accept this mission?”

Bickermann leans back, awaiting your answer. Looking across at Caliban, the hunter gives you a shrug of frustration. It bothers him, not being able to put a name to his unease, and his irritation is rubbing off on you. There's definitely something rotten here, something more than what Bickermann is telling you... but money is money.

Mission: Uncover the anarchist group
Reward: 3 Funds

>Accept the mission
>Decline the mission

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>>2750339
>Decline the mission

>>2750339
>>Accept the mission
Smells like Deep Forest shit. We'll probably clash with Eishin at some point, so getting anything from anyone who survived in there might help.

>>2750339
>Decline the mission
>"Investigations aren't my strong suite"

>>2750355
Why do you think it's related to Deep Forest?

>>2750339
>Decline the mission
I don't want to reinforce the "Pastonne Hunter" reputation.

>>2750339
>>Decline the mission

>>2750339
>Decline the mission
Caliban is pretty good at sniffing out shady business, don't want to become the fall guy here.

Bickermann shuffles though his papers as you consider his offer, his interest in you quickly dying away. His expression shows you nothing at all – no signs of either deception or desperation, nothing that might hint at his true feelings. Maybe this ambivalence IS his true opinion on the matter. For all you know, this might just be one more irritating errand that he has to take care of.

Well, he'll need to find someone else to take care of it.

“I'm sorry, but I'll have to decline,” you tell the marshal, “I simply don't have the time to commit to a full scale investigation right now. You know how things can be.”

“A great many irons in the fire, yes,” Bickermann looks up from his papers and studies you for a long moment. He seems to thinking on your excuse, deciding whether or not you're telling the truth. Then, with a shrug, he accepts it. “No matter. I shall send for an official investigator and place the matter in their hands,” he concludes, “I had been hoping to avoid making this official, but... no matter. I hope that your other work goes well, Captain Vaandemere.”

You're surprised at the relief you feel, at the feeling of a weight being lifted from your shoulders. “And I wish you luck with the investigation,” you reply, giving the marshal a deep nod, “Now, if you'll excuse me...”

With a wave of his hand, Bickermann dismisses you.

-

“So,” Caliban asks as you're walking away from the marshal's office, “I'm going to assume that you had a bad feeling about this one as well.”

“I can't put my finger on it, but yeah,” you reply, “I don't know what it is, but this feels like something we're better off avoiding. Feels like we could end up getting pulled into something unpleasant if we're not careful. The money was good, but maybe a little too good.”

“I remember once, when I was back in the Deep Forest, I found a fallen tree. It looked pretty much normal, but when I tried to sit down on it... it broke open. The whole thing was rotten away inside, with just a thin layer of bark left intact,” the hunter muses, “That's what this job – this whole place – feels like to me. There's some bad stuff lurking beneath the surface.” Then, with a sudden laugh, he punches you on the shoulder. “But hell, that seems to be business as usual for us,” he remarks, “Just once, I'd like to find a NICE surprise waiting for us!”

“I think I'd rather not be surprised at all,” you counter, pausing as a group of Iraklin soldiers in full battle uniform march past. “Let's head back to the ship,” you add, watching them hurry off, “Too many uniforms around here, I feel like they might arrest us for loitering if we give them half an excuse.”

[1/2]

>>2750361
Because it's Faulkner. I don't think anyone would really want to sabotage stuff related to that unless it involved some heavy deep forest stuff covered up.

>>2750412
The only thing this defensive line has to do with Faulkner is the name.

>>2750412
The Faulker 'Line'

The wall of cannons pointing towards Carth. Nothing to do with the man himself.

>>2750393

Aimless speculations still swirl around your head as you walk back to the Spirit of Helena, the hustle and bustle of the busy aerodrome barely registering in your distracted thoughts. When you hear someone calling out your name, though, you manage to drag yourself back to reality. Blessings and Grace are sitting outside the ship, lounging in a small patch of sunlight that shines down through the aerodrome's open roof.

“A picnic,” Caliban remarks, looking at the cloth under them and the plates of food they have, “How cute.”

“Not exactly going far afield, are they?” you chuckle, waving to the two youngsters as you approach them. Taking one of the tiny sandwiches and devouring it in a single bite, you give Blessings a nod. “Not interrupting anything, are we?” you ask him, “We can always go elsewhere if...”

“Oh no, no!” Blessings laughs, his cheeks colouring a little, “This was just...well, it seemed like a shame to eat inside on a nice day like this. You look... ah, if you don't mind me saying, captain, you look a little troubled. Is there something the matter?”

“You DO look rather off,” Grace agrees, giving you a probing look, “Something on your mind, captain?”

Something on your mind... well, that's one way of putting it.

>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it
>Change the subject. That matter is done with, there's no need to spoil the mood
>Other

>>2750416
>>2750419
oh, my bad

>>2750432

>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it

>>2750432
>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it
Freddy might have some insight too if we can find her.

>>2750432
>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it
I'm not exactly sure how Grace or Blessings would have insight in this matter, but hey, these two can be full of surprises.

>>2750432
>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it
Let them bond around shadowruns!

>>2750432
>>Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it

>>2750432
Tell them what you learned from Marshal Bickermann, see what they make of it

>>2750432
>Tell them
Dang, we didn't accept the mission? I wanted intrigue!

>>2750456
You gotta trust your nose.

“Caliban, go and see if you can find Freddy. We can make this a group thing,” you order, watching as the hunter nods and slips off. Sitting down beside the young pair, you take a long moment to put your thoughts in order. When Caliban returns a few minutes later with Freddy, you launch into recounting what Marshal Bickermann told you. You're not exactly sure why you're telling them, what they might have to add to the matter, but talking usually helps you think.

The group listens carefully, and it's Blessings who has the first word on the matter. “Earnest,” he begins, “I think... I mean, I could very well be wrong about this, but that's a very Carth name. You know, parents give their children virtuous names in the hope of them living up to their namesake. Names like... well...”

“Like Blessings and Grace,” you suggest, nodding slowly, “You think our man was with the church?”

“Oh, well, ah, I wouldn't go that far,” Blessings replies, “But that's what jumped out at me, you see, and...”

“The marshal called it an anarchist group, but that doesn't really mean anything – all it means is that the group was deemed to be somehow opposed to the national interest. A church group would be included in that, definitely,” Freddy adds, her voice low and tense – almost as if she didn't want to voice her thoughts. “Although I'm not sure why there would be a church group operating here,” she adds, “You don't think that...”

“Gathering information about the Faulkner Line, perhaps?” Caliban thinks aloud, “Probing for a weakness, say, or planning outright sabotage.”

“Wait!” Blessings cries, “The church wouldn't... they don't...” His voice trails off before he can finish this, his optimism quickly crumbling in the face of an uncomfortable possibility. The idea that his beloved church might be funding acts of sabotage... it can't be a pleasant idea for him to accept.

But it's very possible. Thinking back, you recall what Alexander told you after the Vault of the Sun – he had been assigned to guard a priest operating within Iraklis, operating covertly to spread the faith within hostile territory. The church may be no stranger to these sorts of subtle actions, but you don't have any concrete proof that they're operating here. Bickermann can't have any proof either, you think to yourself, or he would have acted before now.

“It's all very cloak and dagger,” Grace muses, looking down at her gloved hands, “I don't think I like this at all.”

Judging by the looks that everyone wears, she's not alone in that. Blessings still looks like he's swallowed a spoonful of bitter medicine, while Freddy has lapsed into an uneasy silence. Caliban smiles faintly to himself, but there's no warmth or humour in it. Letting out a low sigh, you look down at the forgotten plates of food.

So much for the nice picnic.

[1/2]

>>2750489
I was thinking that Carth might've reached out to a Pastone rebel but full on Carth agent makes more sense, specially considering the suicide.

>>2750499
Which means the chirch probably isn't working with the rebels, because giving such a job to a local would be preferable.

>>2750489

“Captain, sir, I... Did you say that the marshal is going to send for help?” Blessings asks slowly, “For someone else to investigate this matter?”

“He said that, yes,” you confirm slowly, “He wanted to avoid making this official – maybe he thought it reflect badly on him or something like that. Now, though, he mentioned sending for an official investigator. I don't know when he'll make the call or how long it'll take, but...”

Letting out a groan, Blessings buries his face in his hands. “We have to help them!” he mutters to himself, “They're in danger, they-”

“Hold on, just slow down for a moment!” Freddy hisses, “We don't know anything about what's really going on here. This entire theory is based off a man's name – his name!” Looking around at you all, she lets out a low sigh. “I'm just saying, we shouldn't do anything rash,” the Iraklin adds, “I see two problems. I've already touched on the first problem – we've got no evidence of anything right now. Second of all, if there IS some church group trying to undermine the Faulkner Line... that's a criminal act at best, an act of war at worst. We need to step very carefully here.”

Blessings looks like he's about to shout out some reply to this, but Grace puts one gloved hand on his arm and silences him. “Legally speaking, she's right,” the young scholar murmurs, “If the church is operating here – even if they're just offering funding or guidance a local group – then that could be considered a hostile action. The Iraklins would be fully justified in exec... in arresting the group.”

“But that doesn't make it right!” Blessing mutters angrily, his hands balled into tight fists.

“Well well,” Caliban chuckles, “Looks like my nose wasn't lying to me – there really is something rotten going on here.”

“Freddy,” you ask quietly, “If the church really is operating here, and the Iraklins get proof of it, do you think it would lead to war?”

“I don't... no. No, I don't think so,” Freddy answers slowly, pinching her brow as if to ward off a headache, “Open war would be disastrous for both powers. In all likelihood, the matter would be resolved quietly – but it would place even more strain upon the current peace. Even without a direct show of force, there would be repercussions. When I said that we need to step carefully, I wasn't joking around.”

Silence, then, as you consider the bleak situation.

“Captain?” Grace whispers at last, “What should we do?”

The weight, which had lifted from your shoulders, comes slamming back down upon you. Sabotage and war? This is no laughing matter.

>We can't get involved here. The risk is too great
>We need to figure out what's really going on here before the Iraklin investigators arrive
>We need to do something about this... (Write in)
>Other

>>2750608
>We can't get involved here. The risk is too great
I don't think this is any of our business. We've got a lot of stuff to do.

>>2750608
>We need to figure out what's really going on here before the Iraklin investigators arrive

>>2750608
>We need to figure out what's really going on here before the Iraklin investigators arrive
It's time to test Freddy's loyalty.

>>2750608
>>We can't get involved here. The risk is too great

>>2750626
I don't think her loyalty is in question tbqh. She just doesn't want to slaughter her countrymen just like Blessings with Carth or Milos with Pastone (civilians)

>>2750608
>We can't get involved here. The risk is too great
Carth spies knew the risks and I'm not about to get everyone here wanted for being an accomplice if we get caught.

>Okay, so I'm going to close the vote here and start writing for "not getting involved."
>I apologise for the delay. I'll get the next post up as soon as possible

Man I'm curious cause it sounds like there is more than meets the eye here, but dat risk for what might be little payoff is just too much I guess.

>inb4 it's an Eishin Super false flag operation or something.

Running a hand through your hair, you do your best to step back and look at the issue from an objective standpoint. The most logical thing to do, you know, would be to stay back and let the Iraklins handle the matter themselves. This is their territory now, they make the laws and they enforce them. Digging too deeply into this can only lead to more trouble for you and your crew. On the other hand, this group – these “anarchists” - may be innocent. Dangerous terrorists or peaceful members of the church... both are equally guilty as far as the Iraklin government is concerned.

Of course, there's one other possibility to consider – a church group that is exactly as dangerous as the Iraklin government thinks they are. If that's the case, then you'd be putting your ass on the line for a gang of spies and saboteurs – criminals, in other words, soldiers who knew what they were getting into.

You just don't know.

“We're staying out of it,” you decide at last, the words seeming cold and oily in your mouth, “The risk is too great. I can't allow us to get dragged into something like this.”

Your words hang in the air for a long moment before Freddy breaks the silence. “I think that's the best thing for us to do,” she offers, “Staying uninvolved is the safest option – let the proper authorities deal with things in their own way. It sounds cold, I know, but...” Trailing off here, she rises to her feet and backs off, retreating back into the Spirit of Helena. Blessings watches her leave, his face pale and slack with dismay.

“There's no guarantee that involving ourselves would have helped anyone,” Grace adds, her voice low and carefully controlled, “We might have just made things worse if we took rash action.”

“If you have any complaints, any problems with my decision, I want to hear them,” you tell Blessings, “Don't bottle them up.”

“I just...” Blessings raises his hands in some vague gesture, then drops them down into his lap, “We're letting them die, aren't we? We're letting them die, and... and... and now you're all trying to make yourselves feel better about it!” Abruptly leaping to his feet, Blessings turns away from you and storms off – not into the ship, but marching off towards the aerodrome exit. You start to call after him, but Caliban grabs your arm.

“Don't,” the hunter mutters to you, “Let him cool off on his own for a little. I'll follow him, make sure he doesn't get in any trouble. He'll never know that I'm there.”

Letting out a soft grunt of disgust, you nod and leave Caliban to silently slip off after the boy. Grace watches the hunter prowl away before taking one of the abandoned sandwiches and biting into it. Chewing thoughtfully, she begins to clean up the sad remains of the picnic.

[1/2]

>>2750746
Yeah, telling them wasn't a good idea in retrospect.

>>2750765
I agree, bad choice. I find it funny how Blessings immediately jumps to the idea of "these are completely innocent Carthians who need rescue", even if it is completely appropiate for him.

>>2750778
We should definitely talk after he calms down

>>2750746

“What a mess.”

You hear this as you're walking through the cargo bay, Freddy's voice coming from underneath the Eliza. Tools rattle as she wriggles out from underneath the skiff, exposing an oil-stained face. “I wanted to do a little routine maintenance, since that usually helps me relax, but I'm just making things worse. I think I disconnected something, and then oil started dripping out...” she explains, “I'll get Stafford to take a proper look at it later. Anyway, I'm sorry, captain - for talking about a war like that...”

“Why apologise?” you ask her, “Was it untrue?”

“No, it was true. At least, as far as I understand the situation,” the Iraklin offers, scratching her nose, “But it didn't exactly help things. It couldn't have been easy to make a decision with that hanging over your head.”

Sighing, you give her a shrug. “It was already a bad call. What's a little extra pressure on top of everything else?” you reply as you sit down on a low crate, gazing up towards the cargo bay roof and thinking. “We can't afford to risk our mission now, not when we're so close to completing it,” you murmur, “If we got in the way of an Iraklin investigation, it could make getting into Odyssey Point that much harder. We have to prioritise.”

“I won't argue with that,” she tells you, “But if you talk this over with Blessings later, I'd find a better way of wording it. I don't think he's one for pragmatism.” Nodding to herself, Freddy makes a very deliberate attempt at changing the subject. “You and Caliban went to check out that Faulkner exhibit, didn't you?” she asks, “What did you make of it?”

“Suspicious,” you answer bluntly, “But in such a vague way that we don't know what to make of it yet.”

“Such is life. I don't... oh shit!” Freddy curses, looking out at the spreading oil pooling out from underneath the Eliza, “Captain, go and get Stafford while I see what I can do here. He should be down in engineering, so... go!”

Stepping around the oil, you hurry off towards the engine room.

-

When you arrive at the engine room, Stafford is nowhere to be seen. However, that doesn't mean that you're alone – you get a sudden feeling of being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck rising up to stand on end, but... you don't see anything. Standing in the doorway, you hear your heartbeat pounding like a drum – and then you hear something else, the drip of water. A puddle is forming on the ceiling, the water impossibly clinging to the metal. Something within the puddle starts to move, a watery shape rising out from it.

A daemon – even without looking to see if Feanor's blade has reacted, you're sure of what you're looking at. An unfamiliar daemon, here of all places...

>Attack the daemon
>Speak with the creature
>Hide from your uninvited guest
>Other

>>2750879
>Speak with the creature
In a "hey, you!" way, while drawing our weapon.

>>2750879
>Speak with the creature.
But be on guard for any tomfoolery

>>2750879
>Speak with the creature
"Did I give you permission to board?"

>>2750879
>Hide from your uninvited guest

>>2750879
>Speak with the creature while drawing the sword

Wriggling and writhing, the daemon forces more of itself out of the puddle. Roughly human in form now, although devoid of any real detail, it pushes out two vague arms that drip greasy water down to the floor beneath it. Drawing Feanor's sword, you see the white blade glowing strongly in the gloom of the engine room. Holding the bare blade low, keeping it ready for use but not yet brandishing it, you call out to the watery daemon. “Hey, you!” you announce, “Did I give you permission to come aboard?”

Your hail goes unanswered. Collapsing in on itself, the daemon reverts back into a formless mass of water and falls from the ceiling, splashing down to the engine room floor. Only by leaping back do you avoid getting splattered with the unclean liquid. Sluggishly, the water daemon bubbles back into an upright form. Slowly turning its featureless nub of a head back and forth, it looks around the engine room.

“Hey...” you repeat, speaking more quietly this time. When the daemon doesn't respond, you slowly reach out and wave your hand in front of its face. Nothing, no reaction at all – it doesn't seem able to sense you.

Feeling something else approach rather than hearing it, you turn and find yourself staring directly into the dull glass lenses of Masque's metal “face”. Slowly, he raises a finger to his mask and mimes silence. With your confusion growing by the minute, you look back to the watery daemon. It turns this way and that for a moment more, then slowly dissolves back down into a pool of water. As if the floor of the engine room was made from dry soil, the unclean water sinks into the metal and vanishes.

“Okay,” you breathe once the last drop of water has vanished, “What the hell was that?”

“A spy,” Masque growls, “But a blinded and deafened one.”

“Explain,” you order, turning and looking back to his expressionless iron mask, “Don't bullshit me either. Just give me a straight answer – what the hell just happened?”

Masque is silent for a moment. “I believe that that daemon was sent to spy on us, but the wards on this ship – intended, as you recall, to ward off ghosts and ill spirits – were sufficient to rob it of much of its power. That it could manifest here at all is testament to the power of whoever sent it here,” the masked figure explains patiently, “I have no proof of this, but I expect other airships will have their own visitors. Someone with access very powerful witchcraft is looking for something – us, I believe.”

“Searching... what, every airship?” you reply, laughing in disbelief, “I don't believe it. Who... Eishin, of course. He's still looking for us, even now. Damn it, what does it take to shake that bastard off our trail?”

Masque, apparently taking this as a serious question, looks down to the sword in your hand.

[1/2]

>>2751012
Would killing the daemon "alert" whoever summoned it? If so, maybe it would be wise to let it roam blind and deafened for a while, since I don't think any airship Captain can kill a daemon just like that.

>>2751012
>Would killing the daemon "alert" whoever summoned it?
I think so yeah.

>>2751012

“What happens if we kill it?” you ask, looking down at the dry floor underfoot. Either the daemon has left you alone completely, or it's going off to check some other section of the ship. Neither option really appeals to you.

“The summoner would very likely feel it,” Masque confirms, “Perhaps not the specifics, but a violent end would undoubtedly alert them to some abnormality. Their eyes would be drawn to us, and the next daemon they send may be potent enough to break through our wards completely.”

“Never a dull moment...” you mutter, “Then we'd better spread the word – our “guest” is not to be interfered with.”

-

After making sure that nobody panics and tries to kill the spy daemon, you sweep the ship and search for any trace of it. Your search yields nothing, and it isn't long before you're interrupted by a chorus of screams from outside the ship. Rushing outside, you see the crew of the neighbouring airship flooding out into the aerodrome. Even before you've set eyes on them, you can hear them shouting about ghosts and hauntings. It seems like they were the spy's next target - bad luck for them, you think to yourself, but it means that you're off the hook.

A short while after the fuss has finally died down, Keziah arrives back from the northern shipyards. She looks exhausted, but she soon livens up as you tell her about the latest drama. “Ah, my wards worked!” she gloats, “I'm a genius!”

“Hey!” you protest, “I was the one who ordered you to ward the ship, you thought they wouldn't work!”

“Fine then, we're both geniuses,” the witch pouts, “But I cannae help but wonder. Why is Eishin so desperate to find us? They cannae be anythin' good, whatever his reasons are, but still... I'm awfully curious. Oh, maybe he wants to steal the key fragments from us!”

“I've considered that, but they won't do him much good without an airship to take him up to the Mountain of Faith,” you point out, “So unless he's hoping to steal the Spirit of Helena along with the key fragments, he's not going to get very far. No, I feel like he's got some... other plan in the works. I couldn't really guess what it is, though, and that's what bothers me.” Slowly scratching one unshaven cheek, you look around as if a daemon might be lingering in the background. “At least we were protected this time,” you conclude, “I'll call that a lucky break.”

“Let's just hope that hasn't burned up all of our good luck,” Caliban announces, appearing behind you, “I heard what happened. Blessings is back in his room, by the way. Do you want to talk to him now, or should we give him some time to sulk?”

>I'll go and see him. Good work following him
>Let him get some rest. He probably doesn't want to see us right now
>Other

>>2751109
>I'll go and see him. Good work following him
I'm not sure if now is a good time or if we should wait a bit more, but we definitely should talk to him at some point. Voting to talk to him for now though.

>>2751109
>I'll go and see him. Good work following him

>>2751109
I'll go and see him. Good work following him
Bettnow then for him to gester and end up doing something stuipd

>>2751109
>>I'll go and see him. Good work following him

“Blessings?” Keziah asks, “There a problem with the boy?”

“Long story, I'll explain later,” you reply with a grimace, looking around to Caliban, “I'll go and see him now. Good work with following him – where did he go, exactly?”

“Nowhere in particular. I don't think he had any idea where he was going – or where he was. Judging by the way he fumbled his way back here, he was completely lost,” Caliban chuckles, “It was such a sad sight that I almost broke cover and led him back here. I kept out of sight, though. After everything that's happened, I can't imagine that he would have been very happy knowing that I was spying on him.”

That word, spy, nags at you. Shoving away the thought, you gesture back to the crew quarters and head off to speak with Blessings.

Maybe you'll have figured out what to say to him by the time you reach his cabin.

-

When you let yourself in, you find Blessings sitting at his desk and writing away. That's a good sign – you had been picturing him lying in bed with the sheets pulled over his head. The boy tenses up as you enter his room, but he doesn't look up from his writing. You have to call his name twice before he actually responds. “I'm writing a letter,” he announces stiffly, “To Mother. It's been too long since I wrote to her.”

“I see,” you reply carefully, “You're not-”

“I'm not telling her anything secret. Just good news – the sort of thing she wants to hear,” Blessings interrupts, staring down at the paper before setting aside his pen and looking around at you. “I'm not angry,” he states, “I'm not... going to do anything stupid, if that's what you're worried about. It wouldn't do any good, would it?” Sighing to himself, he opens a drawer and takes out a small box of sugared ginger. Helping himself without offering the box to you, Blessings busies himself with chewing the sticky treat.

“We had a daemon on board while you were away,” you announce, “A watery one. At least it cleaned up after itself – I was worried that I'd need to get the mop out.”

This abrupt change in subject causes Blessings to stop chewing. “A daemon?” he repeats, his words muffled by the mouthful of sweetness.

“A spy,” you clarify, “Looks like we're important enough to get all kinds of attention. What we're doing here is big – I mean, bigger than anything you can imagine. So what I mean to say is, we can't afford to jeopardise things now, even if it IS for a good cause.” Blessings frowns a little at this, looking more like a petulant child than ever, but he slowly nods. “My offer still stands,” you add, “If you want to talk about anything, you don't need to hold back. I'm a big guy, I can take whatever you have to throw at me.”

Blessings actually picks up his pen here, thoughtfully testing its heft and balance.

[1/2]

>>2751109
>I'll go and see him. Good work following him

Better not to let it fester. We don't know those men will be executed. If they are innocent Carth might negotiate for their release.

>>2751173

“I had... an idea. About this, about... ah, what we're doing. The life of a Free Captain,” Blessings offers eventually, letting his pen drop solidly down to the desk, “I know that it was a silly old idea, a bit of romance, but I always imagined that we'd be flying from here to there doing good deeds, helping those who needed help.” Pausing here, his eyes widen a little as he thinks about what he just said. “And we have been doing good!” he hastily adds, “We saved Prudence and her friends, we've fought pirates, we've... done good things.”

“And now this,” you guess, “It feels like a betrayal of that life you've come to believe in.”

“Er, sort of, yes,” the boy agrees, “I suppose it's Aunt Miriam's fault – she's the one who told me those stories. She told me all about the people she helped, the great things she did – never asking for anything in return. She was a hero, captain, and just for a while I thought that maybe... we could have been heroes as well.”

...You must be thinking about different people. The Miriam you knew was a fickle bitch who knew exactly how to cheat the most money out of a situation. She wasn't exactly a villain, but a hero? You wouldn't ever call her anything so charitable. You know, of course, what happened – Miriam bloody Hawthorn gilded her own legacy when the time came to tell her young nephew all about it. Hardly surprising, but...

But irritating all the same. Even after her death, that woman finds ways to needle you. The wistful look on Blessings' face just adds to the irritation. So long as he believes in this fantasy, he's never going to be able to handle the kind of hard decisions that you need to deal with. Maybe... maybe you should do something about that.

>Tell Blessings exactly what sort of person Miriam was
>Let Blessings believe what he likes about his aunt
>Other

>>2751236
Shit, I don't want to make Blessings even more depressed, but I don't think it's a good idea that he continues to hold us and himself to such high expectations.

>Tell Blessings exactly what sort of person Miriam was
Don't be too hard.

>>2751236
>Find a middle ground between giving him the harsh reality or the blissful ignorance.

Imply Miriam wasn't as pure hearted as she led him to believe, and give him a few examples, but don't crush his dreams completely. Just sow the seeds of doubt.

>>2751236
>>2751261
This. The world is far more grey than Miriam lead him to believe and while she may have been good to many people she defiantly didn't shy away from fucking others over.
That's just how the world is.

>>2751236
>Tell Blessings exactly what sort of person Miriam was
lets not make her out to be hitller though, a harder turth then he knows would be better

>>2751236
>>2751261
This

>>2751261
This, no need to shatter his view

>>2751284
Just adjust it

>>2751236
>Tell Blessings exactly what sort of person Miriam was
"Blessings being a captain is more than just steering the ship and being a hero. Your decisions effect the lives of everyone on your ship and you need to respect the hell out of that. Not taking payment like you think Miriam does means you won't be able to repair your ship from whatever daring rescue you pulled off or not being able to pay your crew members that you are putting into danger.

I'm not saying throw away your moral compass for the sake of safety or pragmatism. Hell like you said, we've done a lot of good. We just took on a Wyrm to save Tobias. But you have to temper and weigh your choices with your crew in mind."

You open your mouth to tell Blessings... well, to tell him exactly what you wish you could have told Miriam when she was alive, but then you slowly close it again. Thinking a little more carefully on your words, you clear your throat to get his attention. “I'm going to guess something,” you begin, “When Miriam told you these stories... you were pretty young, right? Maybe just a kid, even. Am I close to the mark?”

“Well, I don't see what that has to do with anything, but... yes,” Blessings nods slowly, “I was very young, in fact, when she first started telling me stories. Those early ones were just, ah... just silly, childish things really. Whimsical, I suppose you'd call them. I always thought that your father might have told you the same.”

“Not... exactly,” you admit, “The stories my old man told me were a bit more... hell, we're not talking about me here.” Shaking your head, you get back on topic. “Look, the point is, Miriam told you... a certain version of events. It was probably the only way your mother would let her talk to you,” you continue, “I knew Miriam enough to know that she had a bad side to her – just the same as all of us. She was ambitious, but she could be ruthless in chasing those ambitions. She helped people, but she never did it without expecting something in return. Do you see what I'm trying to say?”

“That she was...” Blessings begins, his eyes clouding over before he can finish his guess. Shaking his head, he gestures for you to continue.

“That you're holding yourself to a higher standard than she ever did,” you explain, “I'm sure she'd be very proud of you for that, but she'd also... hell, she'd probably laugh about it. She laughed a lot.”

This seems to soften the blow, bringing a sad smile to Blessings' face. “Oh,” he murmurs, “She never laughed that much around me. Did she have a nice laugh?”

Sometimes when you close your eyes, you can still hear it – an imperious, mocking laugh that could cut through any amount of background chatter. When Miriam bloody Hawthorn laughed at somebody, she wanted the entire room to know about it.

“A nice laugh...” you offer weakly, “Sure, I suppose you could say that.”

Blessings chuckles at this, his own laugh a far more innocent thing – although there's a melancholy touch to it, a strangely mature touch. “I can see why she left you the Helena,” he tells you, “She would have trusted you to take good care of it. It's just a shame that she couldn't be here to see her now...” A shame, he says. Unable to speak a word, you settle for nodding slowly. “Go on, tell me something else about her,” the boy urges, “Tell me about... something she would never have told me.”

There's one story that immediately comes to mind, but... no. Wild daemons couldn't force you to tell him THAT story.

[1/2]

>>2751323

“Being a captain is about more than just steering the ship and being heroic,” you tell him instead, “The decisions you make have an effect on a lot of people – your crew, but not just them. Like turning down payment for a job well done... Let me tell you a story I heard once. When she was answering a distress call, Miriam drove back a pirate attack and saved another Free Captain. Now, her own ship was damaged in the process – badly damaged. So, do you know what she did?”

“I think I've heard this story, actually,” Blessings muses, “The other captain swore a debt to her, that if she ever needed assistance he would-”

“Actually,” you interrupt, “She sent him the repair bill – with a little extra on top for wasting her time. That was the kind of person she was. She never hesitated to rush in and help, but she certainly didn't do it for free.”

“Oh,” Blessings thinks on this for a moment then laughs weakly, “That's sort of funny, actually.”

“But that's the thing – if she hadn't billed him, she might not have been able to afford repairs. Her crew would have gone without a ship, and... you see where I'm going with this,” you conclude, “I don't want you to throw away any idea of morals or benevolence – look at us, we chased after a wyrm to save Tobias – but sometimes you need to look at the bigger picture.”

“I understand. I... I still feel bad about what happened – what might still happen – but I understand things a little better now,” the boy nods slowly, “It makes sense, as well. If Aunt Miriam had been the kind of person she always claimed to be then... well, then Mother wouldn't have tried to keep her away from me. A bad influence, she said.”

“That sounds about right,” you chuckle. Smiling sadly to himself, Blessings nods and turns away from you. As you're leaving his quarters, you realise something – you actually miss your old nemesis.

Never thought you'd see the day.

>I'm going to close things here. I'll aim to continue this next Friday, with a bonus interlude some time on Wednesday
>Thank you for your patience today!

>>2751358
>you realise something – you actually miss your old nemesis.
Don't worry Milos. She's part of the Wyrm hivemind or something now.

Thanks for running.

>>2751358
Thanks for running!

Eishin is being pretty annoying. What would it take to convince Iraklis to just firebomb the Deep Forest into ashes? I mean, nobody even likes the place. Not even Caliban!

>>2751394
Pretty sure Iraklis is in bed with Eishin in some capacity.

>>2751358
Thanks for running!

Do you have any plans for your next quest? (if you're even going to)

>>2751394
We should convince a warm to do it instead, I'm sure einshin is doing some ahit with pleonite they might not enjoy

>>2751394
If the Iraklins really wanted to, they could probably level the Deep Forest. But, as we've seen, they have their own plans for it. Officially, one of the excuses they use is that Nadir is neutral ground, and so the Carths might take it as a declaration of war.

>>2751413
Too many plans, in fact! I have a couple of ideas that I'm working on, but I'm yet to decide on exactly what to focus on. I sort of want to do something a bit more sci-fi though

>>2751456
Harder scifi or space fantasy?

>>2751479
Very much on the softer side of things. I've never really been very big on hard sci-fi, unfortunately. I suppose a more accurate term would just be "futuristic" or something along those lines

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>>2751358
>with a bonus interlude some time on Wednesday
You mean the lewd scene right?

>>2751646
Resolution to Caldwell cliffhanger >>>> Lewds

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>>2751651
False. The lewd scene is VERY important for character development. Very.

>>2751646
I don't have an ETA for that, unfortunately. I'd like to say sometime before the end of this thread, but it's hard to say at this point. Think of it as something to look forwards to!

>>2751696
I know I am.

>>2751742
Someone is incredibly thirsty.

>>2751646
>>2751658
Is this how running on Akun feels, I wonder?

>>2752553
At least you don't get banned for slightly steamy words on Akun.

>>2745464
I thought the third sister was Eliza?

>>2747690
hhhngg fuck is that adorable.

Hey Moloch, I've been meaning to ask, what does our ship look like exactly?
Is it just like in the OP pic? Do all airships look similar in design or do they vary wildly?

>>2752888
That is correct, actually. Looks like I got my own notes wrong!

>>2753833
Most airships look fairly similar to the one in the OP pic in shape, but the details vary. Iraklin ships usually have an industrial crudeness to them, while Carth ships feature a lot more decoration. Where Free Captains are concerned, all bets are off - some go heavy on the gaudy decorations, others favour a stripped down and practical look. The Spirit of Helena is more on the decorative side, in a tasteful sort of way.
There are some ships which deviate from these norms, though. Large dreadnoughts often have broad wings for housing groups of skiffs, for example.

>>2754948
How can I forget Northern Beasts' best girl?

>>2754968
Oh man, I knew the name Eliza sounded familiar. I can't believe I forgot about Northern Beasts.

>>2754948
I thought there was a lot more wood in airships?

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>>2751646
>>2751658
I don't know why I always picture Keziah with horns, but I do.

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Deep down, Caldwell had always known that it would end this way. For all the fine talk of making deals and negotiating secretive treaties with the man, Caldwell had known – on some level – that this mission could only end with Eishin's death or his own. There was some relief in that, in the simplicity of it. Matters had been taken out of his hands, and only one path now lay ahead of him.

Above, the skiff cuts lower and lower through the air as it approached its destination. Following it, Caldwell crashed through the undergrowth as he entered the trees surrounding Eishin's kingdom. Ahead, he could spot a further clearing opening up around a section of ruins, the sad remains of some ancient structure. Just as he approached the edge of the clearing, Hackett grabbed the assassin and pulled him down low. “Wait!” he hissed, “You've got a plan, right?”

“Confirm the target, then take the shot,” Caldwell replied quietly, readying his long rifle, “That's all I have to do.”

“That's not a plan!” Hackett groaned, “What about after that, what about getting out of here?”

“Caldwell...” Gorgon began, “We-”

“Elias,” the assassin interrupted, the words slipping from his lips before he had even thought about them, “Call me Elias.”

Gorgon stared at him with her bulging eyes for a moment, then nodded falteringly. “Elias then,” she corrected herself, “I have a request for you. I think you know...” Pausing for another few moments, the witch gathered up all the courage she could and spat the words out. “If they take me again,” she murmured, “I can't allow myself to be used by them. I want you to kill me. Will you do that for me?”

It should have been an easy request. For the good of his nation, Caldwell had never hesitated to carry out his duty. Now should have been no different, and yet...

“Hell, lass, if it means spitting in Eishin's eye, I'll happily do it,” Hackett interrupted, letting out a coarse laugh, “Turn around, I'll do it right now!”

“Enough, both of you!” Caldwell hissed, “We still have a mission to complete. Focus on that, and maybe you can be of some use to me.”

Thus chastised, the team pressed deeper into the undergrowth.

-

Rising up out of the tangled undergrowth, the squat remains of a ruined tower stabbed at the sky. Whatever purpose it had originally served, the tower was now a landing zone for the skiff. It was already perched atop the tower Caldwell set eyes upon it, the door swinging open to reveal two figures. The first was King Eishin himself – Caldwell had the man's file committed to memory, and there could be no mistake about it – but the second man, the black of an Iraklin uniform visible beneath the wolf pelt he wore, was...

“What?” Hackett grunted, noticing the look on Caldwell's face.

The acid taste of betrayal rose up in Caldwell's throat as he centred his rifle's sights over the Iraklin. He knew that scarred, gaunt face all too well.

[1/2]

>>2758116

It took all of Caldwell's will not to pull the trigger there and then. Part of what stopped him was a blind, foolish hope – the hope that there was some misunderstanding here, some rational explanation for what he was seeing. The rest was cold pragmatism – he might only get one clear shot at this, and he couldn't afford to waste it on a traitor. Words pounded through the assassin's mind like the beating of some terrible drum. No matter what, he told himself, the king in exile must die.

Swallowing hard, Caldwell brought the rifle's sights around until they were centred on Eishin himself. It wasn't an easy shot, but the king was a large man and, standing motionless at the edge of the tower, he made for a good target. Standing there, tall and proud, he really did seem like a king... but no king could reign forever, and now Caldwell was about to put an end to the tyrant.

Eishin turned, seeming to stare straight into Caldwell's eyes just as the assassin pulled the trigger.

Chaos. A thousand things seemed to happen all at once, as if that single gunshot had been the signal for everything to begin. The traitorous Iraklin officer dropped down into cover as his training took over, while Eishin fell back and out of sight. A trail of black blood flowed out from him as he fell, seeming to hang in the air for a few short moments before falling away. The whole area, the whole clearing, was gripped by a great and terrible uproar as men howled like beasts. Eishin's army, previously hidden and silent, was stirring.

No matter. Caldwell was already rising up out of cover and forging ahead towards the ruined tower. Behind him, Hackett cried out something that fell on deaf ears. Only one thought burned in the forefront of the assassin's mind – confirm the kill. What finally shook this thought from his head was a gunshot, a jolt that spun him around as a bullet kissed his upper arm. Falling stunned to the ground, Caldwell groped at his arm and felt blood flowing. The bullet had gouged a path half an inch deep across his arm. There was no pain, but a numbness was already sinking into the limb.

Leaving the rifle where it had fallen, Caldwell pulled out his automatic and rolled over, firing a short burst of gunfire into the trees. The indistinct shapes of Eishin's men melted back into the forest, their shots trailing off for a moment. Seizing his chance, Caldwell scrabbled to his feet and sprinted for the tower. By the time the barbarians dared show themselves again, the assassin was already within the ruins. Slowing his pace, Caldwell raised his pistol and scanned the immediate area. His wounded arm hung by his side, blood slowly dripping from his fingers.

Wherever those drops of blood fell, a hungry black mist began to form.

[2/3]

>>2758119

Though they seemed muffled inside the tower, the sounds of a gunfight still raged outside. Hackett and the barbarians were keeping each other busy, but that couldn't last forever. He needed to finish the job, and quickly. Keeping the pistol held close to his body, Caldwell crept up the crumbling stone steps and listened for any signs of life coming from further ahead. But for the distant gunshots, silence was all that he could hear.

At the top of the tower, the skiff waited. There was no sight of the Iraklin – either he had fled as the chaos began, or he was hiding somewhere. Caldwell forced the traitor from his mind – he couldn't afford to be distracted by him now. Gritting his teeth at the throbbing pain that was starting to replace the numbness in his arm, he continued his search. A few steps more, and then he saw the body.

Seen from up close, the assassin felt a sudden doubt – he had Eishin's file committed to memory, every last detail, and the body that lay before him seemed... wrong. Too large, too broad at the shoulder to be the Eishin who fled from Monotia all those years ago. It was as if the tyrant had been changed by his time in the Deep Forest, his body bloating and growing strong on the corruption that festered here. Pushing those doubts aside, Caldwell looked down at Eishin's chest – the furs he wore were tacky with black blood, a bullet hole piercing just above his heart.

As the assassin reached down to check the tyrant's pulse, he realised something – the sounds of battle had stopped completely, and an ill silence hung over the clearing.

Eishin's eyes snapped open, his bestial pupils narrowing to pitiless slits as they focussed on Caldwell. His pistol forgotten, the assassin found himself backing away as the tyrant rose to his full, towering height. This was no normal fear, some distant and rational part of his mind whispered, this was something else – the kind of intangible power that set a true monarch apart from normal men. With blood glistening on his jagged teeth, Eishin let out a low, sonorous laugh as Caldwell backed up against the edge of the tower.

Still laughing, Eishin reached his hand out to Caldwell. Before his fingers could touch the assassin, a shrill voice rang out over the clearing.

“Elias!” Gorgon screamed, her voice piercing through the numbness that had enveloped Caldwell. Shocked from his trance, the assassin lurched around as the witch cried out again. Bodies were scattered down below, and a terrible black mist coiled around them. Hackett was nowhere to be seen, and Gorgon...

Two of Eishin's men had her, struggling to keep her from breaking free and escaping. “Elias!” she repeated, “Do it! DO IT!”

Feeling as though he was in a dream, Caldwell raised his pistol to fulfil the witch's last request.

>This concludes today's bonus interlude. Into the Skies will resume on Friday with a special episode!

>>2758122
wait, was the traitor Faulkner?

>>2758157
I guess we'll just have to wait and see!
But there aren't that many Iraklin officers who wear wolf pelts, so...

>>2758122
We gonna go Saving Agent Caldwell now?

>>2758122
>with a special episode!
Could it be...?

>>2751646
>>2751696

>>2758254
Stop corrupting Moloch please.

>>2758267
It's too late, Milos and Keziah already fucked and now she's triple pregnant.

>>2758308
I voted for that you dummy.

>>2758315
Then you yourself are the most corrupting influence of all.
Shame on you. Keep it up.

>>2758319
I'm not the one constantly requesting lewds though.

>>2758321
Excuse you, full completion of a quest is important. Leave no details unwritten.

>>2758329
Your thirst is pretty damn impressive.