Chapter 6.37: All Roads Lead to Hell

Personal Log: Captain Robin Swift

I’ve had nothing but bad news since I’ve returned from my jaunt into the past. I’ve received word from Ryan that the Peahens, the largest investors in the East India Trading Company and self proclaimed rivals of the Godspeeds were in the Kiowa homelands seeking to steal the Kiowa sacred artifact known as the Eternal Flame. Though I am more troubled by the involvement of the Ying Zhen a necromancer that uses terracotta armies to fight. I’ve heard of him and have even seen the aftermath of his exploits. Even if he truly was working of his own volition and not in league with the Peahens, it is still unsettling that they were after the same Spectrum Spirit relic.

Dink and Debs have informed me that the bounty hunter McCoy had received orders from a corrupt guild to assassinate the Godspeeds.  It is the same corrupt guild that made an attempt on President Lincoln’s life. They even mentioned a multi tailed scorpion tattoo not unlike the one whispered between Addy and Gittings.

Add to that, one Wild Rose Greenhow is for unknown reasons trying to manipulate the strings to cause a war between the Union and Confederate States. A wish I am afraid will be granted. Hopefully we can uncover the designs of Wild Rose before too much blood is shed.

Finally, I’ve received something that makes me ill to think of it. I was called to the Confederate President Robert E. Lee’s office to retrieve an urgent parcel that had been delivered with instructions to be handed over to me. I instantly knew what it was that was handed to me. Addy was never with out her journals and I knew this to be her latest in the library large enough to sink the Lollygag. Addy has never sent me her journal. I for the life of me couldn’t figure out why she would do so now. It wasn’t till I turned to the book mark that things began to click. Though it took a moment to do so. I was in shock as I read the blood stained words. I’m not one to grow faint, but the shock nearly swept my legs from beneath me. Only a lifetime of practice kept me standing steady and my face clear of my dismay. Even now the implication of those mere twenty five words are still sending shock waves through my understanding of the world.

Twenty five words that multiply into some rather terrifying words. Hell, home of the secret organization simply whispered about in the shadows of the underworld as the LDG.  Many of the players mentioned above have been rumored to be in league with the LDG. Twyllodrous had ripped off Vain, the one person from my past that still gives me nightmares. I shudder to think what would happen to Addy if she should land in the clutches of Vain.

Carter Twyllodrous is terrifying enough in his own right. If it came to blows I could whip him soundly. But if he has Addy I fear she may already be dead. As a Technopyre, if he thinks she has the blood of a Mage, he will drain her of her blood and process it into a serum that allows those of non-mage blood to use Ancient Magic Technology.  I am fairly certain in this case it won’t matter if she does have Mage blood. My only hope is that Carter will honor his trade agreement. Though if I were to be honest I am of the mind to kill him on sight no matter what his intentions. I don’t take well to being threatened. Especially by way of the ones I love. Love? Is that what I’ve been circling around this whole time? I don’t have time to think of such nonsense at this juncture. I have to figure out what is going on in this world before it self destructs.

More importantly I have to save Addy.

If I can’t

Just that thought

[That is where it ended. I have no idea why. ~ The Archivist]

Chapter 6.21: Scattered On The Impending Winds Of War

 Captain’s Personal Log: Captain Robert “Robin”  Alexander Swift

There was no shortage of chaos in the wake of the liberation of Washington D.C. from the Maryland Secessionist Siege.  I fear that in the six weeks since varied parties set out on missions ranging the Union, Confederate, and Tecnolized Tribal territories, they have yet to find what once was the White House beneath the rubble of the fallen mercenary airship. That is most regrettable. Tori is a master of aerial combat, so I had to ask if she intended to send the enemy plummeting on the symbol of the Union States government. She said no, she had no idea that particular building was of any significance. I sometimes forget that our crew hail from the far reaches of the earth and as we strive to have no immediately evident political alliances, only a few have the notion of what other nations hold as national treasures.

As for the rest of D.C., Maryland hired a nasty variety of mercenaries who left some rather explosive parting gifts. I left a task force from my crew, headed by one Morrow, who eagerly volunteered to help clear out whatever malicious surprises lay in wait for the unsuspecting citizens.

I suppose I should work out the events that lead up to the separate parties being formed and sent out. It was a good four days before I could gather my officers and inner circle along with Pinkerton and the Godspeeds to debrief. The overall consensus was that, aside from having destroyed the White House, the operation was a success. It was the aftermath of our mission of mercy that seemed the focus of that meeting.

I would be amiss if I did not address what really bothers me about this event. It is actually what happened previous to the meeting that had me in a fairly foul mood during the meeting. What happened after the meeting does not sit well with me either.

I hadn’t really seen Addy since the day we had successfully made our caravan delivery to the safe zone where the citizens of D.C. had barricaded themselves. I had gone to find her immediately after settling things with Pinkerton, but my path was barred by a man that would have dwarfed the Greek heroes of old. His name was MacIntosh, and one would have thought he was Addy’s guardian angel; an angel with a somewhat violent prejudice against any who would have disturbed her. I wonder what it would take to woo him away from the Pinkertons. I could find many uses for a man such as ‘Big Mac’, as he was called.

Having managed to get a glimpse of Addy at that time it seemed she was once again sleeping fitfully. Seeking out our rather unorthodox medical officer I finally found Dr. Fenchurch dealing out some, I guess one could say, experimental treatments to those wounded in the efforts to liberate the city.  He was kind enough to attend to Addy and prescribe her a sleep remedy.

Just prior to the meeting I went to check on Addy and was relieved to find the guardian angel was not there to smite me. However, I pulled up short just outside the room in which she had been convalescing. I heard voices. One belonged to Addy and the other was unmistakeably that of the cad Gittings. Abandoning their rather intimate and unnecessary flirtations, the conversation grew personal and solemn. I am not proud that I chose to eavesdrop. Yet, I have no regrets in having done so.

Gittings spoke in a regretful tone about a bounty hunter that had been taken into custody and had killed himself before he would give up information on a bounty hunter with a five tailed scorpion tattoo. It seems the man did however mention that if anyone was so stupid as to actually search out the bounty hunter with a five tailed scorpion tattoo they had as good as sealed their own death. That cur Gittings had the sense to try and warn Addy off from the pursuit. Addy replied that she would not abandoned her pursuit of the bounty hunter with the five tailed scorpion tattoo, for it is the driving force behind all of her decisions.

What little satisfaction I got from Addy having rebuffed the scapegrace, it did little to temper my rage. Looking back on the situation now, the source of my wrath was varied. The idea that Addy was once again chasing her own death with no regard to anyone else incensed me. But the greatest blow to my ego was that this man she had only known a few weeks knew more about her past than I did. Granted, she knows nothing of my past either. Only the Godspeeds know my true origins and they would never betray that confidence to anyone. Still, if Addy has been seeking a bounty hunter with a five tailed scorpion tattoo all these years, how had I never caught on? Why is that particular bounty hunter the target of Addy’s wrathy resolve? Why does she not trust me where she seemed to trust this stranger?

Upon reflection, I believe the truth of it all is that I was greatly wounded by Addy’s having withheld her trust from me. And if I must admit it, though I am loath to do so, I was jealous. I have never considered myself a man to be swayed by such a petty thing as jealousy. But, I cannot deny that looking back, jealousy had influenced me at many a turn. Though I do not have any reason to feel thus, or at least I didn’t think I did.  It is one of those feelings about which I must be honest if I am to be clear headed enough to find Addy.

In any case, I stormed away without making my presence known. At the meeting I refused to make eye contact with Addy. After the meeting Addy caught up to me and forced me to look at her. She looked terrible. Her eyes were still sunken and ringed in dark circles; her complexion having traded its rosy glow for a pale ash. She informed me that she was going home, back to her Cherokee family in the capital city of the Technolized Tribal Coalition, and she didn’t know for how long.

We had agreed in the meeting that someone needed to get a pulse on how the Technolized Tribal Coalition would respond to a war between the states, so I knew Addy was going to see her adopted family. But there was something in the way she spoke after the meeting that made her going back sound personal. She and Kavi and Ashwin Strormrider were away in their Painted Ponies only an hour after the encounter.

I sent her off in a brusque manner that I now regret. My attitude and harsh words are the last memory she has of me. Mine may well be the last face she wishes to see rescuing her, but I will personally see it done. And when I do so, we are having a long discussion. If fortune favors me, it will only involve the exchange of words and not blows. She can be quite fiery when riled.

As for what transpired in the meeting, several things had been discussed that needed further investigation. While trying to overcome  the radio take over by one Drake Vixton, Seamus happened upon some intriguing radio chatter. Though the doings of the secessionists were addressed, the unknown parties were not members of the secessionists. From what Seamus could decipher from their oddly coded messages someone was moving North American governments about like pawns in a game of chess. Though we do not have the slightest idea who it is or what their endgame will be.

Having heard references to Excalibur and Jefferson Day, a man whose kidnapping was the center of a recent adventure in Industrial City, Seamus requested to be allowed to go to Industrial City to find out just what the unknown parties could be discussing. He requested to take Sneeze’s clockwork man, Emmet, with him. I gave him leave to do so, along with an order to take along Andreas Volstad. The Hibernian was none to pleased about that order.

Along with the chatter, we also had intelligence from a reconnaissance runner who was sent to spy on the gathering of Confederate troops encamped 30 miles from D.C. The spry runner with clockwork legs hails from South America. Though I am told we picked her up in Industrial City. She is incredibly fast. It is almost superhuman. She told us that the troops were waiting to see what happened with our little mission of mercy to decide whether they would march on D.C. or not. After our liberation of the capital city, there was talk of fortifying their position to serve as a headquarters for future military action.

Seeing that the Confederate States were uneasy in the wake of what happened, we decided to send an emissary to assure them of the goodwill of the Godspeed Merchant Fleet. As well as to spy their intentions moving forward.  The Godspeeds walk a tricky line between their substantial holdings in both the Union States and the Confederate States. As such they have espoused a neutral stance in any conflicts between the two. I was assigned that task and I chose Miss Malencia to come with me. She is quite crafty and able to move about unnoticed so she was an excellent choice for spying. On a personal note, I had hoped to uncover her secret. And did I ever! But more on that later. I must also admit that I had thought to keep her from going with Addy and having more secret adventures about which I would never be told.

Kiralau Emberhawk our cook not so much as asked as told us she needed to take a leave of absence to go to her homeland. It would seem that the Red Spirit had called her back to the Kiowa for a very important mission. As it gave us a chance to know what the Independent Technolilzed Tribes would think of a war between the states, we sent her with our blessings. Ryan chose to accompany her. He could drop down and get information on the Republic of Texas as well.

As Lincoln had confided to Pinkerton that he would see the Union States and the Confederate States once more united, Pinkerton opted to stay in D.C. to keep an eye on developments. The Godspeeds would return to New Amsterdam and await repairs to the Lollygag from damage incurred during our our liberation excursion. And thus, we were scattered on the impending winds of war.

 

 

Chapter 6.10: Drake Vixton, Storm Lord

HDRB (Holographic Data Recording Box) Recording #06011014

 

[The Holobox flickers for a moment as the next recording is played. It starts with a slightly bobbing view of the cargo bay of the Lollygag. This seems to be another recording from a first person point of view within Drake’s mechanical armor.]

“I can’t believe that guard was telling me that today was a bad day for a flight test. When could be a better day? The skies are clear, we’re over one of the most traveled to city within the Union States, and my armor has just gotten an upgrade in its air movement capabilities. There is no better time than now!”

[Drake’s voice is somewhat irritated as he continues walking. Turning he ascends a cargo ramp on his path to the deck.]

“Though I will say however, perhaps I did overreact a little bit on the poor boy. The voltage level of the shock I delivered to his leg from my gauntlet may have been a tad high. Note to self, change stun setting to something actually comparable to its name.”

[In his ascent of the stairs, several crew members come into view. At first, each is scurrying to some task, but one by one they stop and stare up in wonder- if not fear- at the advancing Death Armor.  Several of them managed to get out of Drake’s way by the skin of their teeth, as he didn’t seem to pay attention to them. He was far too wrapped up in his thoughts, as is evidence by the fact that he continued talking to himself]

“Anyway, let me explain what I have done to my armor, because it is quite exciting. You see, instead of having wings, I have found a way to use my wind manipulation to guide my aerial movements. There are three large, circular intake valves along the upper back of my armor. Each one has a fan inside so that as I push air through them, the fans begin to spin and do some of the work or me. Rather ingenious if I do say so myself. Now, these valves are connected to a network of channels, all about an inch in diameter, that lead to dozens of exit vents along the entirety of my suit. The majority of them are on the bottom of my feet, the sides of my torso, the lower side of my back, and the shoulders. And a few scattered around so I have full maneuverability. But you see, this works perfectly for directing myself. I can push large amounts of air through the intake valves where it is forced through small channels that compress said air, and then burst out the desired exit vents I direct it to with immense force. Now, I will still have to get a feel for the amount of air to push through for certain movements, how much the system can handle at one time, fine tuning for precision movement. So you see, even after the conceptual stage I must have practical application and practice to make sure that it is working. Which is exactly why I had to stun that guard so that I could do such.”

[As Drake concludes his set of ‘logical’ statements, the deck of the Lollygag comes into view as he crests the cargo ramp. His attention, and the focus of the holobox, is instantly drawn to a rather large stack of what look to be glass jars with sticks poking ever so slightly out of the top of them. Drake moves closer to them and picks one up to examine it.]

“Hmmm, now this is interesting. A stick dipped in some sort of tar looking substance that has been stuck within a jar that is suspended in a larger jar filled with what I can only assume is a highly flammable liquid. Because what else would it be with that strong of an aroma? I can smell it even through my suit.”

[ The Holobox tracks with Drake’s visual sweep of the main deck as he rotates the jar in his hands as visible at the extreme edges of the Holobox’s view. There were actually other people around the ship with large amounts of these strange looking devices as well. Yet for some reason whoever was supposed to be working with these was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the appearance of a Death Armor from below deck had caused them to have a temporary lapse in their thoughts of what they were supposed to be doing. And possibly made them run for it. (Sorry. The Archivist says I shouldn’t color my transcripts with my own interpretations. The Archivist has no room to talk if you ask me.) As Drake watched the others they began to toss these strange devices over the edge of the ship.]

[In a decidedly pleased tone] “Ah, well perhaps I should help them out with this operation. But, these aren’t remotely going to accomplish the boom that they are going to want. I’ll just fix that right now.”

[The sound of metal doors opening are heard as a human hand reaches out of the Death Armor’s chest holding a rather large beaker of a very strange green liquid. With the opposite hand still controlling one of the suit’s arms, Drake systematically picks up every one of the half dozen jars and empties a healthy amount of his experimental liquid into each of them.]

“Ah, much better! Now all we need is to light them and get them off the side! Oh, and it looks like I might want to hurry. They’re already three pots in.”

[Closing the doors on his armor, Drake’s reaches out and creates a weak electrical current between two fingers of his suit’s right hand. And, using that, lights one of the jars; before continuing  to light the other five in quick succession.]

“I can’t wait to see this go–,”

[The rest of his sentence was cut off by a large explosion of dense black smog that quickly fills the Holobox recording as the first jar goes off. The image jumps up and down as several loud stomps are heard before Drake stumbles backwards out of the smoke, off balanced from the explosion.]

“Well that was,”

[Once again his sentence is cut off as the other five bombs proceeded to explode in his arms. The recording stutters from the sheer force of the concussion as the sound clips out from the boom. All that can be made out is the surprised yell of half the crew and the spinning scenery as Drake goes flying off the edge of the ship. When the picture comes back into focus the ground can be seen coming towards the Holobox at a somewhat alarming rate. Drake’s voice echoes throughout his armor above the rushing wind around him]

“Well, I guess now is as good a time as any for a field test!”

[In a rush of movement and a brief blast of rather loud rushing wind, the image is upright once more and now stationary, in the middle of the air. A soft hum from the constant channeling of air through Drake’s Death Armor colors the background noise as  the Holobox tracks upward where Drake looks up to see how far he had fallen.]

“Oh, well now. That is peculiar”

[A thick ink black cloud of smoke billows where the Lollygag had presumably been in the air. The upper air streams pull at the smoke smudging it across the sky in the failing sunlight. An outline of an airship can be made out, but there is something different about it. At last the Lollygag pulls out of the smoke screen completely transformed into an awe inspiring warship]

“I’m going to have to ask that engineer about this once I get back on deck. Wait a moment.”

[The Holobox focused fuzzily on something coming up from the ground.  Upon closer examination of the image, dozens of winged figures can be seen swarming up toward the transformed airship. Distant sounds of battle resounding through the air to accompany the scene.]

[A maniacal smile on Drake’s face can almost be heard] “Oh, now look at this, how interesting. It seems that there are those that have wandered into my airspace. Perhaps it is time to give them a fitting welcome.”

[Scraping metal shrieks from the Holobox as Drake draws an eight foot sword that swings into view. A shield appears on the other arm as the mad scientist readied himself for combat. The sound of three fans being pushed to their limits as air is forced through Drake’s suit at an alarming rate, lead up to an immense boom. The distance between Drake and his targets closed rapidly. Rocketing forward at breakneck speeds, the scientist couldn’t help but cackle madly.]

“Ready yourselves villains! For you are about to face the Storm Lord!”

Chapter 5.19: Strategery

We have done all we can do to clean up this recording. I must apologize  that there are bits of it we cannot recover. I suppose I could pull notes from other sources, but to be honest with everything happening so quickly after this meeting, there were few notes to be found. Not to mention it is fascinating to hear the relationships between the crew and how they worked together first hand. (I am trying to find a way to get these in a format I can post on line- so you can actually listen to them! So far the quality has been very poor indeed. Along the same lines it is my intention to collect our adventures  into an annual anthology. Being isolated and . . .  well . . . trying to remain off certain authorities radars has made doing so a bit of a challenge. I am confident we will figure something out in the end!)

Where was I? Oh, yes. I am setting up what you are about to read. As you know, The Good Airship Lollygag has had to make an emergency return to the Union States as the newly installed President Abraham Lincoln has barely escaped assassination (thanks in no small part to the involvement of Addy Windrush) and the Secessionists behind the assassination plot have laid siege to Washington DC. The recordidng transcript you are about to read is from one of Carter Twyllodrous’s Bugs that overheard a strategy meeting of just how the crew of the Good Airship Lollygag intends to intervene.

Again I apologize that there are bits missing of the discussion. I think however that it is a coherent whole. ~ The Archivist

 

Carter Twyllodrous Bug Transcript 05020614

 

DINK GODSPEED: If everyone is settled in, I’d like to go ahead and start. As most of you are well aware, there has been an assassination attempt on the life of then newly elected Union States President. We have an inside source that experienced the attempt first hand. What we do know is that the assassination was the a plot funded by the Maryland Secessionists.  But it was not their only plan. Our inside source informed us that they had also been amassing a militia filled out by a large number of mercenary troops. My good friend Allan Pinkerton and his own detective force have been keeping the Maryland Secessionists at bay and out of DC. But they can’t hold out indefinitely. That is where we and this ship and her crew will be coming in. We have been hired by Pinkerton to deliver supplies to the besieged citizens of Washington DC.

RYAN JAMES TRAVIS: So we are goin’ to stir up a hornet’s nest. That’s the long and short of it, I reckon.

ROBIN SWIFT: We certainly can count on opposition to a supply run. But I get the feeling there is more to this scheme.

DINK: Indeed. Seamus what is the state of our weapons systems.

SEAMUS O’LEARY: The same as the last time you asked me, in no condition for duty. We cannibalized them t [garbled static] . . .demon spawn deci . . . [garbled static] . . . I need at least a mile of cable to get everything back on line. That could . . . [garbled static]  . . . time seems to be something we won’t have.

RYAN: Well, lets say we can get you your mile of cable, you’ve got the team to pull this off. So stop puttin’ up a fuss. You just don’t want this here ship to see any kind of action.

SEAMUS: She’s seen plenty of action. Sabotage! Voodoo! A plague of pygmy llamas! And now you want her to face incoming fire on purpose!

TORI KVASNIKOFF: She was built for that Mr. O’Leary. I believe you design her that way. She is full of surprises, yah? Superior speed, agility, and firepower her primary functions, yah? Do you not desire to see how she handles in environment for which you created her?

SEAMUS: I am aware of how I designed this ship. I just hoped I would get a few good voyages out of her before putting her in the line of fire. Fine get me the cable in New Amsterdam and I’ll get this ship ready for anything you want to throw at it.

TORI: Which is what Mr. Godspeed? If supply run is not primary objective, what is?

DINK: We are go . . . [garbled static] . . . DC. Or at the very least . . . [garbled static]

TORI: Might I speak what is on everyone’s mind, yah? This is a bit too open of approach. We are not military outfit. This is not warship. We risk much just to transform the Lollygag to reveal her hidden self in . . . [garbled static]

DINK: I am aware of that.But the Godspeed Merchant Fleet is renowned for its first class security. That is why we are hired to carry the most valuable cargo through the most dangerous routes. I think of this as an excellent opportunity to show the world we remain the top in our business.

RYAN: This cowboy is never opposed to going in guns blazing.

ROBIN: If we wanted to leave DC in the same way we left Boeseburg, that might work. I believe our first duty is to . . . [garbled static]. . .  suggest a more clandestine approach.

RYAN: If memory serves, that was the plan in Boeseburg and that didn’t work out too well.

ADDY WINDRUSH: What other outcome did you expect teaming up with X? There’s a large force of Pinkertons on the inside of DC. We will have the ad . . . [garbled static] . . . ell trained disciplined allies. Pinkerton himself is  . . . [garbled static] . . . I can promise you Kate Warne has already come up with  . . . [garbled static]

RYAN: Well even if they are willing to help us, there’s no way they would know what we are planning! We can’t risk . . . [garbled static] . . . has long since been cut.

ADDY:That’s why as soon as we have a plan, I am writing up an article to send to Glad. Kate and I have a cipher code we use. We will just make sure . . . [garbled static] . . . I can guarantee they have spies in the Secessionist’s camps. They will get the message.

TORI: You are putting our battle plan in newspaper? You want Secessionists to know we are coming, yah? You want them looking for us?

DINK: In a manner of speaking. In the article Addy will write about how I personally took the job, knowing that it would endanger our flagship, on a bet we couldn’t pull it off.

ROBIN: Let me guess, a bet with Kirk Picard Sr. of the French Star Fleet?

DINK: Junior, actually. Addy arranged it before we left Vienna.

ROBIN: I wasn’t aware she was taking visitors while she was fainted away for days on end.

ADDY: It was a matter of a simple letter exchange requesting an unspecified favor. He was gracious enough to be complicit in our little ruse.

ROBIN: So now not only do we owe that fop an unspecified favor in return, but the most weaselly, social climbing, womanizing, gossip in Europe is privy to the fact we are going in to DC under a false pretense? Oh, that won’t come back to haunt us at all.

ADDY: No one can deny that Kirk Junior a womanizer and a bit of gossip, but I don’t hold that against you. Some people are more than they seem Captain Swift. I trust him.

ROBIN: Well, I am glad we know where your loyalties lie.

TORI: Honorable Captain, Earnest Addy, may we put aside lover’s spat and . . .

[Garbled static, punctuated by sounds of protestation.]

RYAN: [Hardy laughter can be heard along with the sound of what is most like the slapping of the table- then a leg.] You tell ’em! It is good to have you back Tori!

[A rather long section of garbled static]

SEAMUS:  . . . ‘ve painted a target on the side of the ship. Now wha. . .

[More prolonged garbled static]

NATHAN REYNOLDS: . . .  ground forces. I’ve got Jackie Li with me. The best Drunken Master I’ve ever seen . . . [garbled static] . . . Van Solo. Admittedly  . . . [garbled static] he w . . . [garbled static] shoot first . . . . [garbled static] . . . take a company of our mercenaries . . . . [garbled static] . . .  the south road . . . [garbled static]  . . . cover you.

TORI: Ryan, Robin, and Addy are headed straight for the White House, yah? Might I suggest you take the Fire Mage with you.

RYAN: Now wait a minute. Kira’s not . . .

TORI: [garbled static] . . . I think it best. . . . [garbled static]

DINK: I trust Commander Tori in these matters. I am glad you are back to take the helm  . . . [garbled static]

[Extended period of static]

ROBIN: Having the Secessionists eyes on the sky is one thing, but do we risk flying all the way there in warship mode . . . [garbled static] . . .

TORI: . . . [garbled static] how long does transformation take?

[Another longer stint of garbled static]

RYAN: So we need someway to make sure all eyes stay on the Lollygag and buy her sometime to transform . . . . [garbled static] . . .

ROBIN: . . . [garbled static] . . . Andreas can make . . . [garbled static] . . . that would provide cover and give us time. . . [garbled static]

RYAN: I won’t deny that boy is good with incendiary devices. . . [garbled static]

SEAMUS [nearly shouting]: . . . [garbled static- or string of expletives. You are free to decide which] . . . blow up my ship! And here I thought with Addy not being on board things might have a chance of going smoothly. . . [garbled static] . . .

ADDY: . . . [garbled static] . . . Seamus, you  . . . [garbled static] . . .

[Elongated patch of garbled static]

DINK: I don’t think we should get the Painted Ponies involved outside of transport . . . [garbled static]

ADDY: . . . [garbled static] . . . having eyes in the sky to observe both the ground and the ship. . . [garbled static]

DINK: . . . a solid plan.

TORI: I like it. It is straight forward and sneaky. What we do best, yah?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3.5: A Lollygag Hello

Personal Correspondence: Jason McCoy

Dear Christine,

Normally I wouldn’t be logging an entry quite so close after the last one, but I figured you would want to know about my encounters on the ship. And let me tell you, the first one I had did not go quite as expected. Life is full of surprises little sister, and this one certainly was just that.

I had just got done getting onto the deck of the ship when this brunet sheila comes up from out of nowhere behind me, and asks me rather harshly what I was doing on the Lollygag. Right off the bat I didn’t know whether I was Arthur or Martha, so I tried to be polite and exchanged greetings first by asking her name. ‘Course, she didn’t really give me a chance to ask though, before she spit the dummy and started laying into me about trespassing on the ship and all. You have no idea how lost I was at this point. I thought the crew knew that I was coming aboard, but apparently Ryan had forgotten to mention it to this particularly irate sheila.

Things only got worse from there though. After I raised my hands in surrender so to speak, I tried to explain that I was a friend of Ryan’s here on business. She asked what my business was, and for some reason it looked like she might have already known the answer before I told her. Nevertheless, when I told her I was a bounty hunter she went mad as a cut snake. I couldn’t understand half of her ranting after that, but when she put her hand at her hip and pulled out that Cherokee Blaster of hers, things started to get serious.

Moon instantly picked up on the threat and started growling at the sheila. In turn, of course she points her gun down at my dog. This is where I was done getting the rough end of the pineapple. Quicker than she could blink I retrieved my own pistol, and we had us a standoff right there on the deck of the boat. There was no chance on your Nelly that I was going to let some fancy dressed sheila shoot my dog just because she had gone troppo. ‘Course, when you’re a stranger on a boat, and you happen to be aiming a pistol at a crew member, things aren’t quite seen the same way by everyone else.

Luckily before things decided to get completely out of hand, my old mate Ryan happened to come across us. He was quick to diffuse the situation; calming the brunet down enough that she holstered her pistol and stormed off to who knows where. Now he did throw a few comments about being rash and reckless my way, but what can I say? I’m a bounty hunter, that’s just the way I work.

We didn’t get too much time to catch up though, as the high class bitser was about to lift off. I did manage to ask Ryan what the brunet’s problem was though, as I would expect him to have the full bottle on this situation. He informed me that her name was Addy and that for some reason she hated bounty hunters. No real explanation, or none that he gave me anyway, just that she hated their guts.

So there you are, my first encounter on the Lollygag and already my life has been threatened. If this is foreshadowing at all, I just might have to start sleeping with both eyes open instead of just one. But I guess we’ll see what happens from here, won’t we? Anyway, looks like I got some stuff to get to, so I’ll end this right here for now. You be sure to write back when I finally send this though, alright? I want to see some pictures of that contraption you keep rambling about.

Sincerely,

Jason McCoy

Chapter 3.4: Addy the Irascible & Gladiola Merriweather

Journal Entry:  Addy Windrush

Five minutes with Gladiola Merriweather is enough to drive anyone mad! The woman is bigger than life in every way possible. Tall, broad, and round swathed in a riot of color sewn in the most outlandish outfits, the editor of the Godspeed Press could not be missed in any crowd. And that is before she opens her mouth. Her chirping voice is set in a permanent falsetto and her attempts at whispering can be heard across a busy street- you can only imagine what it is like when she is excited and at full volume. In addition Glad’s personality is suffocating. It demands the attention of a room and dominates any contender to take it from her. In short, it takes a great deal of energy to deal with this woman and I have been running on a depleted supply since Industrial City.

 By all the Spectrum Spirits, I have discovered the true meaning of misery by way of cracked ribs. There is no escape from the constant deep ache whether I sit, stand, or lie down.  I dread the sharp toll demanded to but merely draw breath while immobile! I find some relief in the strange liniments the healer Nain, gave me to soak cloth in and wrap around my ribs .They do however have a most exotic smell not unpleasant, but rather revitalizing. Sitting here sipping an herbal tea she gave me that seems to lessen the pain enough that I may sleep (not that I have been doing much of that lately), I cannot shake that erie conversation we shared. But I have already written about it at great lengths no need to recount it here.

As, I was saying, I went to see Glad today. I cannot be in New Amsterdam and not visit the home office of the Godspeed Press. Especially given the string of harlequin novelist candidates she has been assigning me as ghost writers. Pride may be a fault, but I believe one should try to keep some semblance of integrity and honor. And that goes ten fold when it is in print.

There is no room to doubt that Glad Merriweather is a brilliant editor, and not just because of her editorial skills. She has this calculating mind and subtle manipulative manner that give her an ability to ‘handle’ people. I’ve personally witnessed myself countless times the way a person will coming in raging about a specific article and after ten minutes with Glad leave raving about it. But I am not most people. I know when she is trying to ‘handle’ me and it always leads to an argument.

I acknowledge that Glad knows what people want to read and what people need to read to achieve an end. But I wish she would stop using my name for this character she is selling to the world. I wish she would just be patient enough to wait for me to be able to turn in my own articles whenever I can instead of insisting on feeding her ever growing readership a constant diet of adventures most of which I have never had! She has never felt the sting of judgmental eyes and or the chills of leering glances in certain circles of society.  It gets me steamed just thinking about it!

Given my current physical state, I have been a great deal more irascible of late. And today’s row with Glad only exacerbated the disposition. By the time I managed to drag myself back to the Lollygag, I was completely spent, emotionally, physically, and mentally.  What happened next should not come as a surprise. After all the one creature I loath above all other, the one that the mere sight of turns me cold with hate and hot with rage is a bounty hunter.

Chapter 3.2: A Letter To Home Half A World Away

Personal Correspondence from Jason McCoy

Dear Christine,

I have to tell you, it has been a long time since I’ve seen my old cobber Ryan. I think the last time I got in touch with him was when I was hunting down a particularly slippery bludger and I had to hitch a ride with him on one of the Godspeed ships. Apparently there’s a new one around; called the Lollygag. Honestly I don’t know where they keep coming up with these names, but from what I have heard this ship’s no ordinary bitser. Actually I did get to see it too, as I’m looking at it right now, but we’ll get to that later.

For now I wanted to let you know that I will be starting up on keeping my log again. Mostly because of you putting the hard word on me in your last letter for not writing you enough. Well, seeing as I’ll be on a ship for a while I don’t know how often I’ll be able to send back correspondence. So I figure I’ll just go ahead and keep a log and send that back to you every couple weeks. That way you know what’s been going on the entire time I’ve been out here instead of one measly letter.

The bounty hunting business is apples by the way. The money’s good, I’m enjoying what I do, and I’ve seen quite a few places across the world since I left home and went out on the wallaby. I’m sure I’ll see more from here. And don’t worry, I haven’t done anything too life threatening. I mean, I’ve only been shot a few times in the few years I’ve been going and I’m still alive and kicking, so that has to count for something, right? Moon’s saved my life more than a couple times now. Heck, sometimes I’d say the dog is having more fun than I am at this job.

However, there is a bit of distressing news that I must share; and don’t you go telling anyone at home either, you hear? I don’t want them going mad as a cut snake again. Anyway, it looks like that miserable bandicoot Cage has shown his face after two years in hiding. He’s been spotted somewhere in Europe; and I’m going after him. Don’t try to talk me out of it this time either. There’s nothing that you can say that will change my mind. That man will pay for what he did. Also, that’s the reason I happen to be on the Lollygag at the moment as well. They happen to be headed the same way. Haven’t figured out why yet, something about a Baron I think. All I know is that my cobber Ryan happens to work on the ship and I’m calling in a favor he owes me.

Now let me tell you, this ship, the Lollygag, is huge. It certainly ain’t no half rate bitser. The thing is far bigger than any of the fliers we have back home. Shaped quite a bit different too, but it flies just the same. Which just astonishes me simply because of its sheer mass. I don’t have exact measurements, but I’ll see if I can send a picture back sometime for scale comparison.

Got to be careful even here though. Never know who is aboard, especially on a ship this big. Changed my appearance again for good measure. Had to cut my hair short again, sorry. I know I promised the next time I visited home it’d be long, but I’ve got to be safe you know? Though I have also had to start writing with my left hand again too, which is a pain to relearn. Should have practiced my ambidexterity a bit more I suppose. Oh, and thanks for the new akubra by the way. Matches the glasses I’m wearing perfectly.

Moon is doing alright too, just so you know. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you again if we make it back this year. Need to check out that new contraption you keep writing to me about anyway. Hmm, looks like they’re getting ready to take off soon. I’ll write you later then Christine; I’ve got to get on board the ship before they leave without me. And I can’t pass up a chance to see this behemoth lift itself off the ground either. You keep that rabble at home in line, alright? I don’t want to have to come back down to help straighten things out again. Oh, and tell James hi, would you?

Sincerely,

Jason McCoy

Chapter 2.38: All Things Considered . . .

Journal Entry: Robin Swift

I have been spinning my cogs trying to write up a report for the past couple of day’s events. It doesn’t happen often, but every once in awhile things happen that my emotions are too wrapped around to accurately recount them. That is most certainly the case of these events. So I am writing an unofficial draft in my personal journal to make sense of it all.

I guess I will start with Addy. Addy Windrush and I have seen many a hair raising adventure together. I have seen her survive the impossible on more occasions than I can count. But today was the first time I was certain death had truly taken a hold of her. I had hope until we reached the tea shop and heard Kira’s story. Even then I held onto the tiniest shred of hope, but it was blown away by the wind as the ashes around us when I was handed  Addy’s blood stained notebook. Hope was replaced with anger.

Addy is always taking risks. I have come to understand she has passionate convictions. But I have never understood her reckless pursuit of them. It is as if she has no regard for her life at times. But I guess that can be said of many crew members who call the Godspeed Fleet home. Including myself at times. But today I realized just how selfish that mentality can be. And it makes me livid.

To be honest I am still incensed. My anger only grew when I met Kavi and Ashwin at the docks and they told me they believed Addy alive- but in danger on Brunot Island. I was sure I would feel relief when I finally saw Addy alive for myself- but instead I was furious. I still haven’t brought myself to speak with her since our return to the Lollygag.

And then there is Malencia De LaVelle. She is at the heart of the mystery surrounding Addy. My gut tells me this- but I cannot get her to admit to it. Whatever secret Malencia is hiding it must be very dangerous- even by Godspeed Fleet standards. And this fleet has many unspeakably dangerous secrets. If I were to have one thing to say in Addy’s defense at this time, I believe she has tried to convince Malencia to let me in on the big secret. Still, Addy won’t break faith with anyone- so as long as Malencia chooses to remain silent I remain in the dark.

The frustrating thing is that I know the Godspeeds know what is going on- but for some reason they too are keeping quiet on the matter. This is a ship full of secrets nested in a fleet full of more secrets. There isn’t a secret in their fleet the Godspeeds do not know. But there are so very few they will ever pass along. That is the only way a Fleet like ours could ever operate. I know that. I am glad of it for my own secrets could destroy me if they were ever to come to light. But sometimes I feel I should be read in on certain things pertaining to my crew and others under my care. Especially things that could potentially endanger us all.

I guess I shall have to make Malencia a priority mystery to crack. It isn’t an altogether unpleasant task. She is quite beautiful and her mysterious airs are irresistible in more ways than one. Or possibly I can get Addy to confide in me. I know keeping this secret is eating away at her. I know all too well the slight nervous flash in her green eyes betraying a hint of dismay and the endearing gentle downward tug at the corner of her soft lips when she is bothered by something. But I also know that resolute set of her jaw when she feels duty bound to someone or a some cause. It is so infuriating! I guess I shall take on Malencia. I can’t speak to Addy right now.

Among the other surprises of the day was the appearance and adept help of our newest member Andreas Volstad. That lad will be most useful. Ryan even is begrudgingly beginning to see it. Though I would venture to say that I am the only one who can tell the subtle shift in that crafty cowboy’s mannerisms. I think I shall be recruiting Vostad to some more clandestine missions in the future. I had him deliver the money I procured from an obliging safe to the teashop owner. He did so with a knowing smile and nothing more. I like a man who can be discreet.

And I cannot forget to mention the awe inspiring display our our ships cook! Kiralau Emberhawk too has been hiding a few secrets! I questioned Ryan on the subject as he was the one who recruited the Texan Kiowa to be our cook. Turns out he was just as taken back as the rest of us. Ashwin- who I should note has been much more cordial since this whole adventure- volunteered information about the Technolized Tribes on the matter. It would seem that there are two or three blood lines among the Spectrum Spirit Mage tribes that are more powerful than all the others. Ashwin believes that Kira must be of one of the Kiowa Master Mage blood lines. Were I the superstitious type I would say that such Mages wield the powers of gods. But that stray bullet proved even those with the powers of a god can be brought down to earth. I am happy to report that Kira will be fine given some bed rest.

And finally there is Seamus and Sneeze’s Mechanical Man the crew has taken to calling Emmet Sprocket. I am not sure that leaving the mechanical marvel under the brawling Hibernian’s tutelage is the best of ideas. But it seems that it has only made the automaton more useful to us. Before you know it the thing will speak. I shudder to think what it shall say as it’s only exposure to vocabulary are mercenary airshipmen. And a cracked pot scientist.

Reading over this I think it is best to make no formal documentation of this information. None of it is officially Lollygag business anyhow. There are far more pressing matters at hand. Penny Wynne, X, and the missing Lollygag schematics. I must alert Dink Godspeed at once. Schematics for the most advanced airship with tricks up her sleeve the world has yet to see being in the wind aside- this is a volatile situation that needs to handled with delicate, cunning, finesse.

Chapter 2.36: A New Day Rises In Industrial City

Godspeed Press

A New Day Rises In Industrial City

by Addy Windrush

(Industrial City,  PA ) The incumbent Mayor may have remained seated in Industrial City’s latest election, but a new era in politics was born.  Jefferson Day, the dark horse in the city’s race for Health and Safety Commissioner not only clinched the office but inspired a city to take a renewed interest in their home town politics.

The morning before the elections Day disappeared as a devastating explosion shook Industrial City residents. Foul play was suspected and many believed Day to be dead. Whatever end the perpetrators of this tragedy had intended they could not have guessed the actions of Industrial City citizens in the hours that followed.

Day began his journey to become Healthy and Safety Commissioner even as he was named foreman at Jones Steel Mill. In a city that had learned to identify itself with corruption and depravity, Day saw a soot covered beacon of advancement and a better way of life.  “The work done in this city reaches every corner of the world- and changes the lives of those who come in contact with the fruits of our labor,” Day passionately exclaimed in an interview just previous to the explosion.  “But most folks can’t see the good of our city for the bad. And rightly so. But I can, and well I try to help other people see it that way too. I guess I got enough people to see the spark of hope that could be fanned into a flame and make this city great.”

Little did Day know just how strong the flame he sparked had grown. As rumors filled the streets that Day was dead or taken captive, the citizens of Industrial City declared they had enough of the corrupt political practices. Foremen in every manner of factory began to rally the members of their shifts to put word that no matter what they would see the vision of Day come to life. Those working in factories sympathetic to Day boldly asked that the factories close so that every one could go and vote for Day. Those in less sympathetic employ devised plans in secret to make sure everyone would have the chance to vote. The city had decided that whether their candidate was dead or alive they would use their vote to send a message of their own, one that echoed the sentiment of Day expressed just moments before his disappearance, “If change is possible in Industrial City it is because the people of Industrial City make the changes for themselves.”

Day re-emerged around noon on the day of election by making an appearance on the porch of city hall. Despite his bandages and bruised visage, Day was well dressed and stood with his family as a man unbroken by his trials. What doubts remained about this candidate dissolved and the polls were overwhelmed by record breaking numbers. There was no room for underhanded dealings in this election- it was clear who the people wanted for Health and Safety Commissioner.

The morning the election results were announced almost no one showed up to hear the Mayor’s victory speech. Most of Industrial City was crowded around Jones Steel Mill where Day continued to speak words of inspiration.

“Today you honor me, not because of your votes, but because you declared that we the people hold the power of change. I stand tall among my peers who would show the world just what Industrial City truly is- a center for innovation, enterprise, and hard, honest labor. But most of all that we the people of Industrial City are not a people to be cowed by fear. Fear is a part of our everyday lives; we face it because we must and we overcome it at great personal sacrifice because we choose not live under its tyranny. That is a message that this world needs- a message to stand united against the tyranny of fear.”

Chapter 2.35: Nain, The Ancient Healer

Journal Entry: Kiralau Emberhawk

I hadn’t been lying when I told Ryan I’d survived worse. But it still didn’t escape me the complete miracle it was that the bullet had managed to pass clean through my leg without shattering the bone. The blood loss was pretty severe given it is an area where some major blood vessels run.  Ryan tore up his own shirt to bind up my leg so as to keep the blood loss to a minimum. Still, I was weak and woosey. And I knew why Ryan didn’t want me to black out. Sometimes you don’t wake up again.

I did my best to focus on everything that was happening around me.  I tried to stay sharp and was grateful for Ryan and Andreas for giving me something to fuss at to do so. It also distracted me from the fact that now everyone would know I was a Master Red Spirit Fire Mage. I can’t believe I was that sloppy. That last fireball was purely reactive to getting shot. I should probably make time to do some training as soon as this leg heals. I don’t like it when my actions take so much life.

I don’t know how long that boat ride took but it seemed an eternity. I am sure that I was not the only one to think so. There is something about being miserable that slows time. But we did finally manage to get to that soap works someone had mentioned.

It is hard to believe just how bad a place that makes soap can smell. I have been in tanneries that smelled better. When they took us into a storeroom where they keep the essential oils for finally making the soap smell good I was gulping down the air I had been denying  my lungs to keep from retching at the stench.

There was all manner of hustle and bustle as they set up places for us to lie down and rounded up lanterns. Ryan left Andreas to tend to me as he went off to scout around our location. There is no doubt he is a military man. I know that he fought against the Kiowa at one point, and I know that he fought alongside them against the Aztec at some point. My people were better off having him for an ally than an enemy. It is frightening to consider of  just what he is capable.

Andreas on the other hand was more pale than I was. I don’t think that boy has ever seen blood before. He would look anywhere he could other than at someone who was injured. I am getting the sense that if we stay on board the Lollygag for long we are both going to be seeing more battle and blood than we bargained for.

That boy whose name I never got returned with the healer. The woman was Ancient. And when I say Ancient I am not talking about just being old. Among the Technolized Tribes there are those whose age is beyond comprehension and they wear the years well. To see them is to see an extension of the earth like a giant old tree or a mountain.  It took me by surprise. I had never seen anyone outside of the Tribes that could be described that way. It was even more surprising to find one in a place like Industrial City. Even in the midst of the soot, grime, and smoke the air around the healer was fresh and sweet like a breeze coming off a mountain.

The tall woman’s face was stern but not unkind. Her long silver hair falling in soft loops framed a piercing set of eyes that took in all three of her patients at once. You could see she instantly knew what was wrong with each patient and had a plan of action to treat them with that single glance. She turned and opened her bag setting out her tools. Her long slender fingers took up a vial and handed it to Jefferson Day.

“My dear bachgennyn (I am going to be honest I really don’t know what she called him. It was in a language as ancient as she was- but Day seemed to understand it), you have looked better. But I must see to that young Kiowa girl first. Drink this it will ease your suffering.”

She turned and handed Addy a similar vial, “You too, chwaer. (Yes, I know you think I am making these words up.) I am afraid you must be last in this process. But I sense you would have it no other way. Indeed there is too much about you to sense. We shall have to have a long chat you and I. But for now rest.”

She turned toward me.

“And now for you. There is much to do. You have managed to blow out all of your chakra centers at once- that must be seen to of course.  But first I believe I shall stop the blood loss. I am going to give you something to put you to sleep. When you wake up I will have given you a long list of dos and don’ts for your recovery. I am certain your physical injuries will be more demanding of you to follow my instructions. But listen to me well young Kiowa. One of the Ember line cannot have her chakra as out of balance as yours and hope that her Red Spirit Fire powers will serve her at all let alone well. Do as I say and you will be stronger than ever. Do you understand the importance of what I am telling you?”

“Yes ma’am,” I manged to choke out. Her eyes were so intense I could barely breathe. Her voice was full of authority of the likes I have only encountered a couple of times before.  How had she known I was of the Ember line? No one had given her my name. I was too shocked not to take the vial she handed me. I drank it without hesitation and drifted off almost immediately. I woke up in my stateroom a day later with no recollection of time passing nor any knowledge of what had transpired while I was out. But as promised there was a large stack of paper filled with instructions next to a satchel full of vials.  I have kept my promise and followed her treatments carefully. You do not question the wisdom of an Ancient. To my knowledge to do so has never ended well for anyone.