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Drake Dynamo
Drake Dynamo
Posts: 467

23 days ago
Antonios Methodios arrives last to breakfast (his late night binge with Squidley had certainly not helped him get up), finding his daughter and Emma Dynamo sitting across from each other at a far end of the table, and decides to take the seat that sits open across from Squidley. At least the kind mother-daughter team has provided him with company. He nods politely to the three sitting across, and turns his attention to Gideon, while making sure to keep Persephone in the corner of his vision.

----------------------------

Emma listens quite intently to Gideon's speech and the ensuing discussion of the Gant Pole and the Dawn Machine, which reminded her of... something? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was something important, nonetheless. Perhaps one of the many scientists aboard might be able to help her with some memory training techniques. Upon hearing Amets' question, however, Emma puts these thoughts behind her and chimes in.

"Hi, some of you already know me, but for those that don't, I'm Emma Dynamo. I used to sail around quite a bit when I was a younger lass, and I've heard tales of the Gant Pole from zailors I'd trust with my life. One thing was constant in all those stories: whenever anyone found the Gant Pole, they had just left the Chelonate. I think it would be wise to investigate there first, despite its considerable distance," Emma remarks, thoughtfully.

------------------------

While the conversation proceeds, Persephone plays around with her mushroom porridge; it was too mealy for her tastes. While ostensibly on the trip to see the sun for the first time in her life, her father had also tasked her with keeping an eye on Emma during public events, and to signal if it appeared Emma's irrigo-ed memories were returning. As Gideon speaks of the Dawn Machine and the New Sequence, Persephone makes sure to periodically glance at Emma. She had gotten to known Emma well over the past several months, and was good at evaluating her emotions.

And there it is- not much more than a pause, a brief faraway look in Emma's eyes- and Persephone casually flexes her pinky finger. A slight warning to her father, just enough to generate concern.

---------------------

Antonios, however, does not see this warning. He is too engrossed playing a silent game of anemone, kelp, crab-claws with Squidley.
edited by Drake Dynamo on 12/30/2017

--
Oh no. Another post from that goon who goes on about statistics.

Drake Dynamo -Correspondent, Hesperidean Cider Drinker , Matchmaker, and Paramount Presence
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Mr. Mauvais - A ghostly skullduggerous fellow, chopped up for the time being (Only active during seasonal events)

Guide to becoming a Poet-Laureate
If you need to discuss RP matters, I can typically be found on the IRC in #Argo.
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ForScience
ForScience
Posts: 68

19 days ago
Florence still misses the Umbrella, but she supposes it's in a better place, now. And the excitement of embarking on an expedition as potentially groundbreaking as this one is fantastic! She nods along cheerfully to Gideon's speech, not even batting an eyelash at his more absurd proposals. She trusts him. Although she would very much like to discuss some of the finer points of the underlying theories at work here later.

As soon as he's done, she speaks up. "I'd just like to say, Gideon, I support you completely in this endeavor. For those of you who do not know my, I am Doctor Florence Garrison. Usually I'm tied up with University work, scientific in nature of course, but I've found the time for this and I could not be more glad!" She smiles guilelessly at everybody.

--
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/ForScience - The Intrepid Scholar. A dauntless scientist.
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suinicide
suinicide
Posts: 2251

18 days ago
Henchard doesn’t dream much, not anymore. His eyes close, and then open to the sound of Gideon’s voice. More of a movement through time than true sleep. Henchard is ready and out the door, almost before Gideon has moved on to the next room. He gives the leader a courtesy nod, and walks out without a word.

Henchard is silent during the meal. He lets Gideon’s words flow past him, only picking up on where they will be going, not the why or how. Those are unimportant, and he trusts Gideon and the party to handle whatever business is driving them there.

During the commotion that followed Gideon’s final announcement, Henchard focuses on clearing his plate, ignoring the panicked nonsense exploding in its wake, though he does pull his plate away from the mirror when Amets appears. At the end, he nods at Flo, someone speaking sense at the trail end of the noise, then opens his mouth.

“If you doubted Gideon’s sanity, if you had doubts about him delivering on his promises, then you should not have joined him aboard his ship. No matter how silly you think his plan is, you trusted him to come up with a plan to get us to the surface, and you trusted in the plan that you did not know about. You trusted it enough to get on a boat to places you do not know. The time for doubt is over.”
edited by suinicide on 1/4/2018

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A gentleman seeking the liberation of knowledge, with a penchant for violence.
RIP suinicide, stuck in a well. Still has it under control.
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phryne
phryne
Posts: 935

18 days ago
E. M. gave Mr Henchard, whom she had barely noticed so far, a sharp glance. What was his problem? There was something... odd about him. That haunted-looking empty stare... ah yes. No way to be absolutely certain, of course, but she'd bet her dessert that this man had only recently sold his soul; and she'd bet tomorrow's dessert that he did it to get rid of some kind of severe emotional trauma. She did not judge him for that, though she privately opined that, if her postulations were correct, he had made the wrong decision. The human psyche was far more complicated than most people assumed, and getting rid of one's soul did not solve all one's problems. She'd seen it before, unfortunately, and hoped no one was going to trust this guy with making important decisions.

"The time for doubt is never over, Mr... Henchman? Henchard! I hope you'll excuse that. I've always been terrible with names. Anyway, as any true scientist knows, one's plans, just as even the most established-seeming theories, need to be checked and re-checked, tested against new evidence and unforeseen developments, all the time. Doubt, not blind faith, is what keeps people alive in this world - what keeps us moving forward.

"That does not rule out the concept of trust, of course. While I've never worked with Mr Stormstrider before, I've heard about some of his recent exploits, and trust that he will prove a more than capable leader of this venture.

"As for the Gant Pole, I've never been there myself, but I have it on good authority that it does indeed exist." She did not elaborate on the nature of that authority, nor on her lack of surprise about any of Gideon's words.

When a renowned visionary inventor invites one to go to the surface with him, one does make a few guesses on how he plans to achieve that. She'd have been surprised if Dawn's Law had not been involved somehow. And the Gant Pole, well - she would keep that to herself. No one needed to know that her reasons for joining this expedition included anything besides scientific curiosity and a melancholy yearning for the sun. After all, these things were very much among her reasons, no need to pretend anything. But human beings were complicated creatures, and rarely had no hidden motives - which was precisely why she'd brought along her daughter: to learn the hidden motives of her companions. Better safe than sorry.

To her left, Squidley Johnson had been nodding along vehemently during her short speech. Apparently she had made a friend already.

--
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JimmyTMalice
JimmyTMalice
Posts: 230

16 days ago
Gideon sits and lets the lively debate wash over him. It reminds him of the old days at the University with the Delvers. What an adventure that was!

You remember what became of them, do you not? says a distant Voice. Arnold and Anna, trapped in this wretched head of yours with me. The others, burnt alive in the fire. Do you think they cursed your name when the flames lashed at their skin, crisped their flesh, boiled their fat? Did they thank you for the adventure when there was nothing left but charred bones?

He tries to ignore the vitriol, but the words wedge in his mind and refuse to be dislodged. The Voice falls smugly silent, its work done. Gideon picks up some more bacon from the middle of the table with a fork, skewering it harder than strictly necessary.

The sudden emergence of Amets is welcome; their sojourns into the Real have been lamentably brief in recent months, but they requested that a mirror be placed at the meeting table and Gideon was happy to oblige. He is still not sure what to make of them, ambiguous as their every feature is. A Fingerking wearing a human body like a suit, or something yet stranger?

The answer surely lies on the shores of dream, he thinks, and snatches of last night’s vision drift back to him. Peculiar dreams are hardly unusual in the Neath, but this one felt more real somehow. Had the eidolon been watching him from the banks of the river?

Gideon glances at Squidley with paternal fondness. The Rubbery has come far since they first met. After much encouragement by the inventor, Squidley has taken steps towards behaving like a proper gentleman. His table manners need some work, but the foghorn-like honking is now restrained in polite company and he plays a mean game of charades. Nobody is currently trying to drag the Rubbery into a corner and murder him – always pleasant – and one of the Cannings has even engaged him in conversation. Who knew that you could pronounce three ‘p’s in a row with such… phlegm?

Henchard’s spirited defence of Gideon would almost be heart-warming if he knew where it had all come from. The man always seemed so detached when they were hunting the Shade. He was all business, all the time – Gideon never did find out whether his name was Gregory or David – and now he came out with this! This newfound loyalty is almost certainly misplaced, but he appreciates it all the same. It’ll be good to have someone competent to watch my back. Even if he expects to be paid afterwards.

Gideon chats along for a while, making the appropriate noises, acting the part of the consummate host. The questions raised by the passengers are understandable, but he gives them some time to settle down and fill up on bacon and coffee before speaking up.

“I assure you, my friends, the Gant Pole is more than mere myth!” he says. “Some months ago I visited an old sapphire-processing plant in Port Carnelian where I met a Fierce Philanthropist, an expert in all matters zubmersible. She runs an enterprise – not strictly legal­, but we’re all friends here – constructing zubmarines, and she stays in touch with a number of enterprising zubmariners. As well as the plans for my own zub, she also told me about a captain who caught a sighting of the very place we are heading to now: the Gant Pole. The captain never docked there himself – apparently his zub was attacked by a giant eel before he got close – but he was able to catch a glimpse of the place. A great stone heart on the zee floor, surrounded by carrion – enough dying zee-beasts to feed a city.”

He flashes a smile. “After hearing this, I was immediately struck by inspiration. As you said, Ms Dynamo, the Gant Pole is in the vicinity of the Chelonate – I heard the same thing from my good friend the Philanthropist. Our first stop on the journey will be there. To get to the Gant Pole itself, we’ll need to use my zubmarine, which is secreted aboard this very vessel. But the inky depths of the zee are no easy task to navigate, even if we knew the location of the Gant Pole – so I came up with this.”

On cue, a zailor wheels a large rectangular object covered by a red cloth into the room. With a flourish, Gideon whips off the cloth to reveal a glass tank of water – and in it, a very ill-looking man-sized zee-crab. Its glowing antennae twitch unnervingly as it presses itself against the glass wall. Squidley lets out a low, mournful trill.

“The Gant Pole draws dying zee-creatures towards it inexorably, like the pull of a great magnet. I found this crab at an auction – apparently it belonged to an old zee-captain who kept it in this tank for years. The poor thing is close to its end now, so I shall release it into the zee once we depart in the zubmarine – and it will lead our way to the Gant Pole.”
edited by JimmyTMalice on 1/6/2018

--
Gideon Stormstrider, the Episcopalian Esotericist
Jimmy T. Malice, gone.

A Tale of Two Suns - Meeting Your Maker - A Squid in the Polls
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Shadowcthuhlu
Shadowcthuhlu
Posts: 1446

14 days ago
Dirae Erinyes gives a small frown when Amets makes their appearance, turning the picture back around. Pencils fly over the picture. Evensong gives an approving nod to Gideon’s caged sea monstrosity. However her posture did not relax.

“There is still the question of ensuring that the New Sequence deals fairly.” Evensong calmly states, their tension channeling into their cutlery. “The most obvious solution would be threaten to reveal one of their agents in London’s docks if we fail to return. That would’ve been best to arrange in London, but we still should be within bat flight range. We can arrange something if we act quickly.” She gives a cough that could be called nervous.

“Not that I know anything about that besides what I’ve read in the reports. But I have reason to believe that my bosses do appreciate my work and loyalty. They are the sort to show it beyond just ‘Number 1 Clerk’ teacups.” Dirae Erinyes turned the picture around again, with another smile. Amets had now been added to the group picture, with a hastily drawn mirror. Their hand drifts down, giving Evensong’s shoulder a squeeze.

--
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Sara Hysaro
Sara Hysaro
Moderator
Posts: 4464

13 days ago
The Chelonate! Madison's eyes shine avidly at Emma's suggestion, and Gideon's affirmation. It took all of her effort (and a strip of bacon) not to shout about her ancestral roots to that place; she had never been there herself, and would likely be less helpful than strangers might've assumed from such an eager reaction. That is, of course, if they're taking much longer than a brief stop to resupply. Given its malodorous nature the others might be keen to depart as quickly as possible, having little other reason but curiosity to stay. A new distraction wheels into view before she gets a chance to speak - an old, pitiable crab. Could Madison read sorrow within its eyes, pain in the joints of its claws, ceaseless regret over opportunities lost?

No. It's a crab.

Madison returns her focus on important matters. She could expect at least a quick glance around the port and its various wares, if nothing else. At most, time enough for a good round of sightseeing. She thinks to ask for a more definite time frame when it occurs to her that the nature of their compass might be the limiting factor, even more so than curiosity's allure or the overwhelming reek. In that case, she might as well know the identity of the arbiter of her destiny. "Does it have a name?"

--
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Shadowcthuhlu
Shadowcthuhlu
Posts: 1446

12 days ago
Dirae Erinyes steps away from their easel, clearing their throat with a gear grinding cough.

“The lass does raise a good point. A name is the very least we can do for this poor creature, who will be our noble navigator with its dying breaths. A grand name is needed for a crab that allows us to see the sun again. Names are very important. Thus, I suggest that we name him. . .Crabbie, Baron of the Devil Reefs, Fifteenth heir to the Sea King's throne.” They look around, seeing if anyone will challenge their right to name the ailing crab. The crab looks on, uncaring.
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 1/10/2018

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phryne
phryne
Posts: 935

12 days ago
Both E.M.'s eyebrows rise upon hearing Dirae's suggestion. "That's quite a mouthful. Personally, I'd vote for Lil' Temtum," she says quietly, a hint of a smile quirking one corner of her mouth. "And I'd wager the 'Sea King' has a lot more heirs than that, if I'm correct about whom you're referring to."


While all this is said in a mild manner, E.L. can't help rolling her eyes. That's already the second person at the table her mother had to disagree with. Scholars! Can they ever pass up a chance to 'well actually' someone?
Her appetite had left with the appearance of the smelly crab and she can't wait for this breakfast to conclude, so she can return to the fresh zee-air outside.

--
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Shadowcthuhlu
Shadowcthuhlu
Posts: 1446

11 days ago
Despite their fighting stance, Dirae Erinyes simply kept talking. “You seemed to have misunderstood me. The Sea King is not the same as the Fathom king. They are a vassal of the Fathom King. You can tell if crabs are prawnie or unprawnie by their claws. Those with bigger right claws follow the Sea King and are Prawnies. Those with larger left claws follow the Counterthrone and are unprawnies. They are also more likely to argue about being eaten, so it’s best to avoid them.
As you can see, our crabbie friend has a bigger right claw then left claw. Thus, they are a prawnie.” Dirae Erinyes points to his claw, before continuing their lecture.

“Now, all royal prawnies have a dark purplish blue as part of their coloring – all thanks to a mutation in the first Sea king. As we can see-despite the dullness of the carapace-that is indeed a dark purplish blue color.”

“So, once we know that our crab is royalty, how do you find out their title? Prawnies are not talkative. Once again, we return back to the carapace.” Dirae Erinyes carefully turns the tank around to allow their trapped audience to see the back of the crab.

“On the back, we can see black markings. By examining these markings with a proper set of maps, one can quickly pick out the territory of a particular crab. If you were to use one of Gideon’s maps, I’m sure you would agree that it is the Devil’s Reef. This method is really the only way to tell, since crabs don’t actually use their titles for anything.”

“As for their distance from the throne, I can only estimate that based on size and age. Since our crab friend is nearly ancient, but not as big as could be, fifteenth seems fair. “

They turned to face Ms. Canning. “All of this is in my book “The Customs of Crustacean Royalty.” You have read it, right?”

--
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Drake Dynamo
Drake Dynamo
Posts: 467

11 days ago
Emma stares in shock at Dirae Erinyes.

"What in God's name are you on about?" She says, and looks around at the rest of the table.

"I've spent far too many years on the Unterzee to let you Bazaarine agents come in here and start assigning arbitrary classifications to various creatures of the zee. No mariner worth their salt would ever dare refer to a crab as an 'unprawnie,' let alone talk of a 'Sea King.' You don't want to invoke the anger of the Gods of the Zee." With her last sentence Emma's voice gets deathly serious. Now Emma rises in an attempt to stand eye to eye with Dirae, and points a stern finger at them.

"I suggest you check with a zailor before you go on spouting your neo-monarchical biology, you hear me? I won't allow you to jeopardize Gideon's expedition on account of your sophistry."

And, with that declaration, Emma returns to her seat, the un-tethered fury of an experienced mariner shining in her eyes.

--
Oh no. Another post from that goon who goes on about statistics.

Drake Dynamo -Correspondent, Hesperidean Cider Drinker , Matchmaker, and Paramount Presence
The Antioch - The Coffee God (I do not check this account often)
Mr. Mauvais - A ghostly skullduggerous fellow, chopped up for the time being (Only active during seasonal events)

Guide to becoming a Poet-Laureate
If you need to discuss RP matters, I can typically be found on the IRC in #Argo.
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Tyr Teg
Tyr Teg
Posts: 7

11 days ago
Chapter 1 - How to play the game of names and stowaways

Tyr‘s dreams were pleasant and calm. Just the way he wanted them. As his Cosmogone glasses anounced to anyone with the right knowledge – Parabola was quite a familiar place for him. He has spent more than a few nights exploring its strange forests and wondrous rivers and creeks. But this time he just wanted to stay safe and enjoy his sort-of-tea while sitting on a log and watching what passed for sunset in Parabola. He noticed an uncertain figure pass by – like a shade of a half forgotten memory. But before he could focus on it more he awoke to the sound of Gideon Stormstrider knocking on the doors on his way to breakfast.


The Polite Peacemaker sat on his bed and gazed on a pair of Rattus Faber – currently looking back at him with their paws still full of the equipment they were pulling out of their hiding place in the barrel of his Emergency Blunderbuss. Apparently they hitched a ride inside of it and now with their sleeping bags packed, they were ready to go explore their new home. While both parties seemed equally stunned by surprise there was a noise of tiny machinery being pulled apart and a front wheel of rat-sized velocipede tumbled out of the gun’s barrel (almost hitting one of the surprised rats on the nose) followed by another fluffy head with tiny eyes that quickly turned big when their owner realized their human transport was awake and aware of their presence. “Well guv, we won’t take any more of your time,” the tallest of the rats said. Before Tyr’s brain could conjure an appropriate answer – all three rats finished packing (including dividing a tiny Velocipede into three parts and sharing those equally between them) and were on their way out of the cabin.


Tyr blinked a few times to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, then shrugged and decided that “What was done was done” and after ensuring none of the other devices he brought along had any more unwelcome surprises proceeded to dress and move on to breakfast. To his surprise, he wasn’t the last one to arrive.

---

Listening to Gideon’s speech – Tyr wasn’t terribly surprised. He was well aware thanks to his Bazaar sources that Gant Pole was indeed not a myth and the knowledge of the unfortunate incident that befell most of Her Majesty’s Navy was common knowledge to most players of the Game on his level. Another good reason why Bazaar was necessary and the best way for the future. He wasn’t looking forward to the visit at Grand Geode though. On the other hand that destination was fairly far into the future and he was sure he was far from the most interesting person here from the Dawn Machine’s point of view so it might end up being outright easy.


Speaking of interesting – his eyes passed the gathering of adventurers. Old faces, young faces, faces that carried a lot of mementos of their previous adventures and faces – specifically the young ladies, he realized, who seemed to be on their first zee trip. This promised to be quite an adventure. The one other thing that was worth notice was the large mirror. When a person started speaking out of it Tyr knew he was right. Amets Estibariz has joined the voyage after-all.


He was browsing through the last file – the dull reading about Antonios Methodios. Tyr wasn’t sure but it was quite improbable that someone that dull and boring would be living in the Dynamo household and even less so that he would be joining this journey. Even as a Valet/Chaperone he was too boring. The more likely option was that the file has been doctored or outright fabricated. But by who? The Polite Peacemaker had no idea. Just as he put the file aside the last Delivery-bat flew through the open window into the study and dropped a heavy file into Tyr’s lap. The cover was made of cinnabar and the careful considerate writing read “Amets Estibariz” This promised to be an interesting read.


The wurbly noises draw Tyr out of his memories and he is surprised to notice that there aren’t in fact two Rubbery persons here, but Mrs Canning is in fact talking to Squiddley in his own language. Observing the room he noticed E.M’s daughter paying particular attention to Persephone’s finger. Focusing on them as well, he just caught the last part of what was probably meant to be a secret message. Spies watching spies do spy stuff. Once again he was vindicated in his belief that spying is a job for one person who doesn’t draw attention to themselves and only gives his debriefing after the mission – thus ensuring that he or she won’t get caught and keelhauled for being a dirty dirty spy.

When the giant crab was ceremoniously introduced and the debate concerning his name started – he wondered for a few seconds if he should mention his Rattus stowaways. Seeing how heated the debate was getting "a Bazaarine agent... heh" he decided against it and instead used the opportunity that arose when the young Eva Louise apparently seemed to lose her appetite and grabbed some more bacon. While zailing one could never say when would be the next opportunity to eat something that wasn't stinking like a dead fish. Overall it promised to be an interesting day.

---
edited by Tyr_Teg on 1/11/2018

--
The Polite Peacemaker of Bazaar

Per situlas ad astra!
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phryne
phryne
Posts: 935

11 days ago
It seemed quite impossible, but E.M.'s eyebrows managed to rise ever higher and higher during Dirae's lecture and Emma's subsequent outburst.

"Well," she said more than once during the altercation. "Well, well, well." She seemed about to go on like this, then thought better of it.

"To answer your question, sir, no, I haven't read your... publication, though my wife might have. But thank you for sharing all this enlightening information. I presume you must've spent many years of your life researching these matters; maybe you have even lived among the prawnies and unprawnies on the zee-floor studying their customs. Why, I cannot imagine how else you would've been able to accumulate such a wealth of data. Certainly, I think I can speak for almost" - here she winked at Emma - "everyone gathered here when I say that the effort it must've cost you to compile such a veritable cornucopia of learning is much applauded and appreciated. You, sir, are a paragon of sub-submarine biology."

All this she said earnestly and sincerely, with more than a little pathos in her voice. But her eyes were shooting sparks of mirth in all directions, and when she took a sip of coffee afterwards, most observers probably noticed how hard she had to work to keep from laughing out loud.


Meanwhile, E.L. was trying to think of a good excuse to leave the table. This breakfast seemed to go on forever.
edited by phryne on 1/11/2018

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Reinol von Lorica
Reinol von Lorica
Posts: 61

10 days ago
"Perhaps a diversion from crabs would be a welcome topic. And a return to a more...pressing one, in my opinion at the very least." Reinol's voice as calm and smooth as wax. The appearance of Amets had captured his attention for quite some time, but the argument had shaken him out of his reverie. While he had missed some parts, he certainly heard Evensong's plan regarding the exposure of a Dawn Machine's agent.


While such action was prudent, it was far too risky in his opinion. Enough so that he had to speak up regarding the matter. He turns to Evensong as he spoke. "While your plan certainly has merit, I must act as an opposition party regarding it. My reason is simple."


Emerald eyes narrowed. "The risk is far too great. The agents of Dawn have their roots deep in London's Admiralty. While the Navy is but a shadow of itself, I'm sure an attempt of exposure would immediately force a response. We have little guarantee of the success. Our lack of information regarding the Machine is enough to derail the plan. I'm rather positive that it could go very badly if things go, err, south so to speak."


A sigh escaped his lips as he returned to his breakfast. "Do forgive my intrusion. I have faith in your capabilities , but I still object to your plan. No information on the Dawn Machine's influence puts too much at risk, for all we know, their roots may be deeper than we know. Admirals are known players of the Game. Certain diplomats more so. Both are likely to be under the False Star's influence. Who's to say they won't have a posse of spies who are the same? Too risky in my opinion. Far too risky. A counterattack or an interception of your zee bat is possible."


"Just some opinions on the matter." Reinol leaned back. "Feel free to do as you wish. And if we are going to name the crab, I say we call it Temtem the Dying Zee Crab. None of that Sea King swillery." He was willing to admit however, that his argument may have a few flaws.
edited by Reinol von Lorica on 1/12/2018

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The Sentimental Writer. He still dreams of clear skies and sun kissed forests.
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Shadowcthuhlu
Shadowcthuhlu
Posts: 1446

10 days ago
Evensong fixes Reinol with a blue, unblinking stare.
“As a mere clerk, it is not my decision which agents my bosses would choose to out and which ones would be allowed to continue. While I may be ignorant of how deeply the New Sequence has infiltrated our docks, I know those I work for are better educated. Thus I place all my trust in their ability. In that same vein, if I find myself needing to reveal our threat, I will be careful not to implicate the rest of you – I’m not just going to shout it as soon as we sail into port. ” A smirk forms on her lips, fighting against the placid façade. “Even our most novice interns know that any spy that gets their bats intercepted deserves what they reap.”
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 1/12/2018
edited by Shadowcthuhlu on 1/12/2018

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Vavakx Nonexus
Vavakx Nonexus
Posts: 828

4 days ago
The eidolon had, sadly, attracted attention. Thankfully, only short-lived attention. Soon enough, the cabin dips back into the usual chaotic discussion, interspersed with motivated warbling . The eidolon, meanwhile, dines on fruit unseen in the Neath nor the Surface, chokes on sweetness, drowns in taste, resists the urge to gag. They're done with their improvised and implausible meal when the dying royalty is brought in. There is much ado about the crab's name and its royal status, now. The eidolon mimes an unapologetic yawn in lieu of true lassitude.

Nobody here really trusts each other, they muse. Not really. The conversation is bathed in paranoia and baptized in doubt. Very probably, every single one of the people here is hiding some succulent secret or other. It's a crushing atmosphere. Unbearable, really. Might as well make small talk, lighten the mood somewhat. Fight a bitter room with sweetness.

"That is all fine and dandy," An absentminded gesture towards the pair loudly ruminating on blackmailing the New Sequence. "Spies and all, but my mind is occupied with something quite different: We've all heard of the sun-bathed Surface, if not been there ourselves." Has the eidolon ever seen the Sun, outside of false dreams and cramped boxes? They are uncertain, and time does tend to lie. "When this expedition is over, I would be delighted to visit an observatory, if the situation were amenable to it, but just feeling the light on my skin would make me happy enough." An inviting gaze sweeps through the room. Their smile is warm as summer breeze.
edited by Vavakx Nonexus on 1/18/2018

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Amets Estibariz, the Moulting Eidolon: The Queen, the King and the Pawn. Banded in red and black and gold.


Blabbing, the Hobo Everyone Knows: The One Who Pulls The Strings. A Clarity In The Darkness.


Charlotte and the Caretaker: A duality of character making their collective lives in the city below. One may call them a family, even.
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Sara Hysaro
Sara Hysaro
Moderator
Posts: 4464

3 days ago
Madison shies away from all the debate, not having strong enough opinions to participate. She fusses slightly with her utensils to give the illusion of activity, only looking up when Amets provides a welcome chance in topic. She smiles as her thoughts turn to the sunlit surface, and all the wonder surrounding it. "It'll be weird actually seeing it; my friends and I growing up had this inside joke that the 'Surface' was an elaborate adult prank."

She reflects briefly on the mythology they had built up over the years to explain all the scraps of evidence pointing towards the Surface being real. None of them took it very seriously - at least, she assumes none of them did - but the two she retained over the years still keep the gag alive. "I told a couple of them I was heading up there, and they teased me a little. 'Send a postcard from the Sunlight Factory!' I wonder if there's a place up there actually called that." Madison places a finger on the side of her head, thoughtful.
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edited by Sara Hysaro on 1/19/2018

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http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Sara%20Hysaro
Please do not send SMEN, cat boxes, or Affluent Reporter requests. All other social actions are welcome.

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Shadowcthuhlu
Shadowcthuhlu
Posts: 1446

3 days ago
Dirae Erinyes sets aside their pencils and hunches behind Evensong’s chair, arms wrapped around her shoulders. “We are going to visit my family. Well, actually my first wife’s family – which I admit does sound odd. But my family growing up has all passed on, and my wife’s family is a welcoming bunch. Between my aunt and I, we’ve been entertaining them with our adventures in London. They have been clamoring for a chance to meet Evensong –they think it’s good for me to see someone new. After that, it’s for Evensong to decide – she was born in the Neath.” Evensong remains quiet, even when Dirae Erinyes words drop away.

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http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Dirae%20Erinyes
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Reinol von Lorica
Reinol von Lorica
Posts: 61

2 days ago
"What to do eh?" Reinol trails off. "I suppose I'd like to make a peom describing what it's like. Or anything in general. Art is art after all." And perhaps a few research material as well. It wouldn't hurt after all.

Fingers drummed on rough wood as he pondered this train of thought. "There's simply so much I want to do. Maybe I'll see the sights. Maybe I'll dine on food not of Neath. Maybe I'll get some work done. But all in all, I will make most of what I have. Though I will admit...the sigh of the clear skies, the true stars, the trees the moon, the sun...yes. That'd be enough. More than enough."

He faded into silence at that. One of daydreaming and melancholic nostalgia. He missed the beauties of the Surface. Its light and law. Far too much was lost when he came down here. Yet much more was gained. Though even then, still he yearned, still he wished. A foolish wish in the end. But a wish was a wish. And every wish was worthwhile. No matter what they are.

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http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Reinol%20von%20Lorica
The Sentimental Writer. He still dreams of clear skies and sun kissed forests.
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