Into the Lake

[Vanidor]

There was a low rumble in the rainwashed sky. Not the roar of thunder, nor the crackle of lightening. It was a low, humming thing. Almost a pulsing sound. The scent of ozone and a washing of the air. Those around the lake would see it then. Descending out of the seas of rain. A sleek thing it was, about a hundred and fifty feet in length. Ballistas shifted with the drop, as if aiming for the nearby town of Myrken. Then, with a prowling growl, the vessel put down into the body of water called Silver Lake.

The ship rocked once it touched down, the ship compressing water underneath and sending a gush of water to swamp the already waterlogged shore. The giant sweeps, things of canvas and magic which stretched a good hundred feet to each side, contracted slowly and came up flush to the wooden sides. Rain spattered down upon the ship, causing the flag that flew from the mast and afterdecks to hang limply. With the looming darkness, it would have been hard to discern anything about them. Save that they were dark, almost the hue of seeping blood.

Just before the already faded light fully disappeared, two figures could be seen standing upon the rainslogged command deck. One rose his hand, pointing in the direction of the town. The one besides simply nodded, bearded face sweeping over the shadowed village.

...and then darkness would descend upon the 'scape and hide the vessel from normal sight.

[NightSteel]

"Another ship?"

"Aye, Cap'n, Mister Rollins saw it landin' in the lake. Said it looked like somethin' from back home, a little older, a little smaller, but seemed ta be in good shape through the rain, at least."

Almais Lansing paused thoughtfully, glancing from her first officer, Mister Irons, down to the surface of her desk. Could this be the airship of which she'd heard? "Very well. Have Mister Rollins make a report of it, and please do ask him to include details." She then looked back up. "Suggestions?"

Irons shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She'd put him at ease already, of course. "Well, Cap'n, it seems ta me that we oughtta be sayin' hello, but I wouldn't want ta be jes' droppin' outta the sky in this mess, might start somethin'. Maybe break out the skiff?"

"Agreed. That's not too likely to ruffle any feathers. Make it so."

"Aye, Cap'n." Mister Irons came back to attention smartly, and then twisted about to exit the captain's cabin. She locked the door behind him and proceeded to get dressed--she'd been sleeping, and so the disturbance had caught her in a nightgown, and she'd put on a robe to answer the knock.

On went her garb of command, then, including silver-trimmed coat and tricorner hat. The simple, customary cutlass was belted about her waist, and her halberd was retrieved from its wall rack, and slid into a special harness to hang diagonally across her back. She was in no real hurry to get dressed, and so by the time she was finished and venturing out on deck where the rain poured down, the plain skiff was almost ready, a flag of lands far, far to the south flying from her stern and a bright lantern upon her bow.

The much smaller landing craft was meant for ship-to-ship or ship-to-shore transport. It was large enough to hold a dozen men, but required only a few rowers. Today, the skiff's crew would include one of her officers, Mister Sydney, her shift's helmsman, Mister Turnbuckle, and the cook, Mister Silver, along with two younger members of her crew; Newton and Addison. They'd all be rowing except her of course, with Mister Turnbuckle steering. They all had their raincoats and hats on, as well.

"She's all ready, Cap'n," declared Mister Irons as the last of the other five men clambered in. The boat hovered a few inches above the deck of the larger airship.

"Very well then. If we haven't returned within two hours, please do come join us--cautiously." She gave her first officer a pointed look.

"Aye-aye," he replied simply, with a fractional nod.

The Captain vaulted aboard the skiff easily, using the proper side so that her halberd didn't catch and tumble her down into it. That wouldn't do at all. "Rowers, forward easy. Mister Turnbuckle, take us over the side, down to the lake, and then set us down, if you please."

"Aye, Cap'n." The helmsman manipulated the rudder with a practiced hand. Actually, it was less like a rudder and more like a large oar; such a thing could be spun to face in any direction, and was therefore able to produce a combination of yaw and pitch.

So, over the side and down they went, rain beating upon their heads as the little skiff descended towards the lake. She settled quietly down into the water near the shore, and the oars began dipping into it to propel them forward. Mister Turnbuckle also dipped the rudder in, for proper steering. Captain Lansing, meanwhile, moved forward and placed one boot upon the prow, taking a traditional pose as the skiff ventured out upon the rapidly pockmarked water.

As soon as the outline of the larger waterborne ship became visible through the rain, the Captain cupped her hands and hollared.

"Ahoy, there! Captain Almais Lansing of the AS Legacy, requesting permission to tie off and come aboard!"

[Tyralor]

"Another one?" The Lieutenant stated to the watchman. "It's not enough that it's raining water, but now it's raining ships too?"

A brief pause as the Lieutenant stroked his forehead. If this kept up, the Council would probably want the Wall built higher too.

[Vanidor]

And so someone came to the ship. And they would find her dark, except for the bright lanterns at afterdeck, masthead and at the mighty prow. The figurehead there was carved in the image of a hawk ready to pounce, with it's wings worked upwards into the main body of the ship itself. The light seemed to poke through the eyes of that, making them seem alive. Moving, almost, as the skiff brought itself closer.

The call would, at first, garner nothing but quiet. Then the sound of a door, loud even in the drizzle, opening wide. Light spilled onto the wide deck. Sailors now, thirty or so it would seem by the sound, scuttled out and started up into the rigging. And then... then someone would lean out over the edge to peer downwards.

Light would flare behind him, two others coming with lanterns on poles. They cast their illumination into the rain. Enough to see by, at the least. The man who had stuck his head over the edge peered for another moment. A slight laugh, then a quick wave of his hand. The light remained there, but the sailor had vanished. Words then. Quickly spoken that, and then the sailor returned. Coughed a couple of times and then smiled downwards. Rain spattered 'gainst the back of his rather bald head.

"Lord Captain Piotr de'Varrin bids you welcome to the Duke's Ship, Hawk's Talon, Captain Lansing. Permission granted to come aboard, but you'll have to surrender your weaponry once you get aboard. I'm afraid the men who guard our current passenger are a bit... skittish when it comes to strange folk with weapons near him. Here. I'll throw down a line."

The man spoke like no sailor should have, really. Which was as clear and direct as a summer's day. Maybe he was just the spokesman. But then, he -had- said that it was the Duke's ship. Perhaps this Duke liked to understand the men he travelled with? In any case, the smiling man did as he said and had a line lowered. It was followed shortly after by a rope ladder. Of course, if they actually used it was up to them...

[NightSteel]

Sailors could be plenty clear and direct if they wanted to. She wasn't too surprised at the formality; such things were traditional to most navies that she knew of.

Upon hearing the response, she nodded and turned first to the rudder man. "Bring us alongside, Mister Turnbuckle, if you please. Mister Silver, a bit of your knotwork would be appreciated." Then, she turned back to call up to the man who had granted permission. "May I suggest a compromise? I bring an officer with me, we both leave our weapons down here?"

She thought she detected a quiet groan from Newton, but it was hard to tell with the rain. Her suspicions were confirmed when she shot him a look, and the young man's chagrin was evident. In a hushed tone, with a gleam in her eye, she quickly suggested, "Mister Silver, I do believe Mister Newton has volunteered to assist you with peeling potatoes."

"Aye, Cap'n," answered Mister Silver, smiling, as the younger man's face fell. The cook and the captain had gone over the status of the ship's stocks earlier that very day. The ship had all of three potatoes left.

The dread would be enough of a lesson for the young man.

[Vanidor]

"Which ever way you want to do it, Captain, we can make do. When you get aboard, just let the 'guard check you real quick, then you can meet the Lord-Captain and our guest in the officers mess. The guards will point you at it. I've got some work t'do up in the sheets... Oh, they're just 'bout to have supper, so they've gone and got you a plate. We'll get one for yer second too." And then the talkative man was gone. If they watched, they'd soon enough see him scuttling up into the rigging. There was work to be done, even at this hour and with this vile rain.

In any case, they were ready for Almais and her companion to board, and four guardsmen in crimson, white and gold uniforms would wait for them on the deck. Mere moments to perform a cursory search (only obvious weapons were looked for) and as long as there were no further questions... they'd be directed to the open door and the bright lights of the officers mess beyond...

[NightSteel]

Supper? Really. Fortuitous timing indeed. Dining was an excellent time for conducting business; it often led to a relaxed atmosphere. As the skiff crept up to the side of the larger vessel, Mister Silver tied off to the rope ladder as requested.

"Thank you kindly, sir," she called to the receding owner of the voice, who'd never actually introduced himself. She and Mister Sydney then removed their weapons as requested. Two plain cutlasses and the captain's halberd were left behind in the care of the cook and the two younger sailors. The weapons would all have to be meticulously cleaned later, what with the rain.

Following that, the two of them climbed up, presenting themselves semi-formally to the inspecting guards, then following their directions to the mess, ducking through the open door.

[Vanidor]

It was the officers mess only because, in this instance, the officers were dining in it. One quick look would tell one of it's other functions. A bunk was folded up tight 'gainst the wall. Bookshelves lined the walls near the upper decking. A door, perhaps a good fifteen feet from the entrance to this room, led to another. Surely this was the captains cabin beyond. And this was his study (as much as a study could be kept 'board a ship this size!). And they were, indeed, just sitting down to a meal.

Platters had already been lain upon the board. Roasted chicken set on polished silver plates. Some sort of vegtable (brocolli perhaps, or even cauliflower) in bowls of intricately carved and polished wood. They swam in a mix of liquids. Potatoes as well, smashed and laced heavily with butter and garlic and pepper. A veritable feast this was. With woven baskets containing soft rolls. It was, indeed, a relaxing atmosphere. Even with the armed guards standing by the far away door.

The table, which was really just a few long planks laid over a set of bracings and covered with cloth, was large enough to sit eight or so. Just four places were set tonight. Two already plated with the fare upon the table, and two others waiting. Four glasses were already filled with wine. The table was set, as it were. And people were expectantly waiting for Captain Almais Lansing to enter...

And once she did, there would be two that were the apparently centre of acivity here. The first, closer than the second, was tall and slender. Lithe almost, but there was a certain bulk to him. Dark hair was cropped short, and the beard that cut 'round jaw and chin was trimmed close. He was dressed in a loose uniform. Dark britches that were tucked into calf high boots. A shirt of dark, dark red and a vest over this that was white. Hanging from a peg behind his chair was a heavy greatcoat the colour of old night. A tri-cornered hat rested there as well. It was this one that spoke first.

"Captain Lansing I presume? A pleasure to meet you. I am Piotr de'Varrin, Captain of the Hawk's Talon. I welcome you aboard most graciously, and invite you to our table." The man motioned to the vacant seats. Then the second man of importance in the room coughed. Softly. "Ah... Pardon my manners, I also have the pleasure of introducing you to his Grace, Burel, Duke of Thessilane."

"Greetings. Please, sit. No need to waste yourself on further formality whilst there is a roast chicken on the table. She shan't stay hot forever, you know." And that was from Burel himself. A compact man, shorter by several inches than his captain. But he was powerfully built, with heavy shoulders and arms. Dressed much the same as his officer, but his shirt was black and his vest red. Great and luminious eyes of emeraldine focused upon the other two... "Sit... sit. And then you can tell me all about yourselves and what is going on in Myrkenwood these days..."

It was funny how an invitation like that could sound like an order... Or, in this case, a strongly worded suggestion.

[NightSteel]

So, it was to be she and her officer, and the Duke and his. Interesting. Politely, the two interlopers' hats and coats were also doffed and hung, revealing a pair of similar uniforms. They both wore similar boots, shiny with the combination of care and rainwater. They wore similar pants as well, simple and utilitarian brown. The captain wore a shirt of sky-blue, flowing but not so much as to tangle while carrying out shipboard duties. Mister Sydney's shirt was a darker, jewel tone blue, by coincidence.

There was no mistaking that the lady captain was indeed a lady; her clothing wasn't intended either to hide nor flatter her figure, and her wavy, silver-streaked black hair fell approximately to the bottoms of her shoulder blades, having been covered by her jacket just a moment ago. She had a pretty face, with somewhat high cheekbones, subtle lips and dark, dark brown eyes. She bore lines of age, but bore them well: Even devoid of makeup, she had a healthy sort of glow.

Her officer was younger, in his twenties. He was a lanky sort, topping his captain's height by around half a foot, and had a proper haircut and a military bearing. His hair was blond and his eyes were hazel.

After hearing the greetings and beckonings, she moved to sit, ensuring that Mister Sydney followed suit. "Captain de'Varrin, Duke Burel, your hospitality overwhelms us. I should think our cooks would like to exchange pleasantries sometime," she observed with a little smile, before continuing. "Your ship is a fine one. I helmed one of these in my earlier days. Sturdier than she looks, and quite stable. Ahh.. as for my ship and I, well, we are rather recently arrived as well. I don't know how much help I can be to you, as we've been rather busy.. but I'd be quite happy to tell what I know."

Her smile was pleasant as she prepared to dine. She'd seen her share of 'superiors' in her days. If this Burel was any kind of leader, he'd know that she would humor him as long as it suited her, or until he made it worthwhile for her to do so in some fashion. Of course, with she and Mister Sydney unarmed, that wouldn't be too difficult, so she had to hope that he would be above such methods..

[Vanidor]

"Wait. You said that you've... captain'ed a ship like this before? Back in your home? We were under the impression that this was one of a kind. The ship has been in the control of Thessilane for nigh on two hundred years... We've never run into another one." This was from de'Varrin, who was eating almost... daintily. Carefully, anyway. Unlike the Duke, who ate with gusto. Almost as if he hadn't eaten right in days. Perhaps the air travel had affected his stomach.

And then Burel spoke up, turning his attention away from his meal and towards Almais. And unfortunately squashing de'Varrin's line of questioning. "Not as new to the region as all that, Captain. I have heard of your water shipments. Rather good of you, truly. I know a lot of folk who would have only done that to gain an edge. And not for any... altruisic reason." Here Burel set those great eyes of his upon the woman. They were of a piercing sort, but rested easily here and now.

"Please, humor me though. Anything you know will be of assistance. We spent a week in transit here, and that's a long time to be out of contact with certain sources." There was no reason to lie. Or to hide it, either. Powerful men such as he often had spy networks that spread out far and wide from their own homes. And for someone such as he, who was so used to being informed... "I could make it worth your while, Captain, if you wish. But I shan't push the issue."

In otherwords, speak freely, but do it freely. And then he'd pay you for it. Adon above knows he had the money.

[NightSteel]

"Captained? No," first corrected the lady with a winning smile. "A ship like this one was my first posting as a helmsman. As for the rest.." She leaned back a little, in thought, as her officer helped himself.

"Well, if you've heard about the water, then you know the most important things," she states. "In truth, we are rather hoping that we'll get paid work out of it, but the government around here hasn't seemed to take much of an interest beyond the water, yet," she observes, with a little shrug. "And of course, now there's plenty of that," she adds dryly.

"There have been attacks by strange creatures, plagues, drought, with apparent flooding to follow--I hope your crew knows something of rescue work--and I hear that the next disaster will be insects." A few more moments of thought. "None of the rest seems particularly relevant, and as you know, we *have* been rather busy, at least up until the start of this deuced rain." A small shake of her head. "I hear, though, that the government has open meetings on some sort of regular basis. I'm hoping to sit in on one."

It was here that she leaned forward again to choose her own meal. Each proportion was carefully and properly selected. She did hope they'd get back to the subject of ships eventually; she liked talking shop.

[Vanidor]

"They do hold them, Captain Lansing, and often enough from what I understand. And the last thing I had heard... was that there was a meeting to come soon. Just keep your ears open, as it were." And here, the Duke rose. If anyone else made to, he'd wave a hand to sit them back down. "Please. Remain seated. Finish your meal, ship's cook Domor made a good one this evening. I have some things to prepare before I step on Myrken soil tomorrow. Enjoy your night, if I don't see you again this evening."

And then the man would smile, nod his head at the others, and step out into the rain. The two armed guardsmen trailed out with him. Captain de'Varrin sighed softly, then swept his dark eye'd gaze around to Lansing. Shoulders rocked. "Pardon if that was a bit abrubt, the Duke has a lot on his mind. Has ever since we left home, he's been so... withdrawn. T'chaa. So, you said that you served on a ship like this before? That is utterly fascinating..."

And here, the man would motion with a hand. A sailor would bring a decanter of cognac and several cut-crystal glasses. "I would dearly love to hear anything you have to say, Captain."

[NightSteel]

Captain Lansing took her first bites as the Duke spoke, nodded with each of his revelations, and simply remained quiet as he exited, half-rising along with Mister Sydney and then sitting again as beckoned.

At the other captain's words, she smiled. "If you'll allow me the indulgence of asking a question first, might I ask if you know how this ship came to be in the possession of Thessilane?"

She tilted her head a little. She was sure that it would be an interesting story. Two hundred years would have been long before her time.. there were tales, of course, of ships lost or stolen or otherwise unaccounted for, but nothing really concrete or well-documented.

[Vanidor]

"We found her in the Red Hills." The man grabbed the bottle and poured himself a quick drink. The bottle would be pushed towards the other two. "Well, more it was found by the Dwarves there, but they had little actual interest in it. So, as the tale goes, they contacted the local Baron. I think it was... mm. Darius, from Almark. And once we heard about it, the Duke then came down to take a look. He brought along a few magi and they looked it over."

A quick breath, and then a sip of the orange flavoured liquor. "No sign of the crew, there were some broken beams and spars. Sails were torn and shredded. The only thing we found was the ships rutter. We keep it back at the Armoury at home, but every man who captain's this ship is required to read the bits we've been able to translate. Thankfully those are the things most important. Like how to work things here... I have a copy if you wish to see it."

Piotr motioned to a heavily bound book, resting on a nearby table. "If you can read it... I would love to hear what it says."

[NightSteel]

Captain Lansing and Mister Sydney both poured themselves a drink, and she again listened as the other man spoke. Hmm. She could make that request worth her own while easily. "I would be willing to provide a complete translation, provided I keep the original. Historical value, you see," she supplies, smiling a little. "There's probably a mystery, back home, of what became of this ship. I imagine her logs would solve it quite handily."

"As for how to work things, if you've gotten her this far, then I doubt there's anything important that you've missed," she stated, still smiling. "But, if you'd like to discuss it further in the near future, I would be happy to." A pause, then she continued. "Actually, I'd rather like to invite you to moor over land with us, Captain, if the Duke isn't opposed. We've a good pair of trees to tie off to, and I imagine the experience would be good for the crew all around. I'm not too worried about giving away trade secrets. I would prefer your ship to be intact when I take it."

A beat, a bit of a choke from Mister Sydney, and then she winked, broad grin revealing her straight teeth. "Merely being facetious, Captain, don't worry."