Captains Logs? [Open RP! :) ]

There’s no RP/ fiction subsection here. Since this is technically divorced from Fallen London, why not give people a chance to give some life to their characters?

Captains’ Log: 24 September.
Dear Mr______ _____.

Summer has passed. The men grow alternately restless, and reckless. At first, I was the one to suggest the Northern route; fewer pirates, more coastline, cheaper fuel. Now, the men at turns demand to see the Chapel, to loot the remains of the victims of Mt. Nomad, and beg me to never return. That is not to say we have had great success in the past; a core of Officers and zailors seem to have emerged I can trust. I am grateful for your assistance in the sale of that particular [i]soul; its sale helped finance the Beth, and has given us a fighting chance in the North and amongst the Corsairs we desperately need. But I fear we have grown complacent.

We sighted Mt. Nomad, last month. It trapped us in the bay of the Horizon, again. I’ll have a word with the Admiral about that. I ordered the release of coke-tipped flares, dipped in that violant ink. Bets’s suggestion. It seemed to help, last May. Two harpoon salvoes, and we were already on the defensive. Its voice is like acid in the ears. Jones threw his take overboard before climbing into the furnace. By the time we pulled him out, falling shards crashed through the chamber. Willis went down with him; I lost some blood, but dragged myself back to the bridge. We tested the Device, in a moment of panic. Left half the crew dead, and a quarter mad, but the creature was equally confounded. Beating back the horror took hours of harrying and shots near the peak-side crevices, in the end. We have learned little. Your man, Smith, the damned fool, insisted on scampering off to loot a wreck near its maw. I swear to Salt, I saw his skull [/i]floating [i]near the Chapel a week later. Journalists. Fools, the lot of them. The jewels he threw on the deck were split evenly. Easy enough, with such dire casualties.

As per request, your cargo of papers have reached Venderblight with some regularity; other routes are riskier. The ______ reached Station _____without issue. We lost a dear friend of mine to a Western Angler in June; I expect compensation for his wife, at least.

I resent the accusation I have unfairly profited from this endeavor; the spoils of Life-bergs are split evenly, and the _________________ profits, by order of the Admirals__________,________, and ___________ are sent directly to you. I’m sure you are aware of the cost in human lives. Admiral _____________ is pleased. I assure you all profits are being invested towards the development of Dr. _________'s dreadnought. We are nearly halfway there.

Send dear Bonny my dearest regards.

Calm zees,



Captain’s Log- 30 May 1893

I felt it, even while giving empassioned sermons to the listless masses of our once-great city. The call of the long, dark zee. Even while I investigated the deepest mysteries of the tangible soul, I could hear the cry of zee-bats whispering my name. In my darkest hour, when the Bishop of Southwark himself condemned my exploration of the soul’s essence as an affront to all the Church stood for, when he stripped me of my office and banned me from all religious gatherings, I still felt that this was not an end, but a beginning. The Unterzee had chosen me, and here, in the unlikeliest of circumstances, I was given a chance to explore that great unknown…
I’ve used what little money I could scrape together to purchase a small steamer, and crewed it with several reckless and rowdy zailors, all of whom have likewise heard the call of the midnight horizon. They say it is the song of Salt, one of the Unterzee’s three principle deities. My own dealings with the Church notwithstanding, I still feel this dark underworld is ruled by only one God. However, the sharp tang on the air, of salt and mystery, occasionally makes me wonder.

Captain’s Log- 15 June 1893

Only a few weeks from our first venture into the trackless realms of the Unterzee and already I feel…different. My religious convictions are regularly shaken by the strangeness of the zee…
My first commissions from Admiral ________ took our vessel along well-traveled trade routes, out to the Funging Station and north to Venderbight. As his confidence in us grows, however, he’s sending us farther and farther from familiar shores: Gaider’s Mourn, Port Cecil, Mt. Palmerston… Our most recent commission will be taking us far to the south-east, to Khan’s Heart. I am unsure of the way, but have the support and expertise of my crew. In truth, I feel not fear but excitement as we sail into the unknown. We’re all chasing it–the edge of the explored.

Captain’s Log- 23 June 1893

Arrived at Khan’s Heart after days lost at zee. Finally discovered the port while fleeing a rogue Khanite pirate vessel. Since making port we’ve been regarded with the utmost suspicion. No matter. I’ve made contact with the Admiral’s man here and successfully retrieved information concerning the _________ conflict and its potential effect on London’s trade routes. Before we head home, I’ve decided we’ll sail just a bit farther, to explore the lands east of the Khanate Empire…

Captain’s Log- 24 June 1893

Discovered the rebel faction of the Khanate Empire due east of Khan’s Heart. I cannot help but wish we could go a little further to see what lies beyond. I shall consult with my crew before deciding our course.

Captain’s Log- 30 June 1893

We decided to sail past Khan’s Shadow, making our way ever east. The farther we travel into these black waters, the more convinced I become that the zee here lies unfinished. It is as if the Creator has yet to populate this part of the world with anything more significant than the zee itself. We sail on, but the zailors have begun telling tales of the void beyond reckoning, where foolish explorers meet their end.

Captain’s Log- 8 July 1893

Too much DARK… No LAND… No HOPE… Crew went MAD with TERROR…
I’ve killed most of my crew. The terror crept in, made them a danger to ship and zailor both. The few of us that remain hope to coax the ship back to Khan’s Heart, but we have little hope of outrunning the madness lurking at the edge of vision. Even if we can stave off the fear, our fuel and supplies run low.
It comes in the night in your dreams your nightmares it COMES!!!

Captain’s Log- 10 July 1893

My chief navigator, Simmons, took the final plunge today (tonight? yesterday?). He screamed, raving about Salt’s Great Eye watching, always watching, and leapt the rail. Now I sit alone and remarkably calm, here on this vast sunless zee. Waiting for my own demise…
edited by The Dark Gentleman on 7/23/2014

Captain’s Log- 25th October

Another day gone, the crew are becoming more restless I fear some are verging on the edge of madness. Well standing on deck this morning or at least what passes for morning on the Unterzee I heard some of the crew discussing &quotGods&quot I heard of these so called &quotGods&quot briefly well in London Salt, Storm and Stone.

Granted just saying those names sent chills down my spine but I refuse to believe in their existence, I refuse to have my destiny in the hands of these gods to be played with, I told the crew my feelings and safe to say most agreed in fact all agreed expect one. Our chief [NAME UNREADABLE] still believed in the gods and said we should all make offerings to them in order to protect ourselves I shot down the idea in a instance most of the crew got on my side when I said if we burn all our supplies we will not make it back to London and time soon.

Captain’s Log- 31st October

I was awoken by my first mate this morning who stormed into my quarters demanding my presence on the main deck, I gazed upon the main deck to find someone had scratched something into the wood of the deck, It was poorly wrote and hard to read however I believe it said this &quotHe watches, his eye is upon the Zee&quot I looked to my first mate and agreed it was the chiefs doing clearly trying to scare us all into believing in gods, I ordered the officer to remove this vile thing from my deck and keep a close eye on the chief a mutiny is the last thing we need right now.

We make for home, for London. The crews sprites have been raised slightly I pray they hold on longer

Captain’s Log- 5th November

We are close to home, however something has happened the body of the Chief was discovered today hung from the rigging on the side of the ship, as we attempted to remove the body from the rigging it burst open and a swarm of bats appeared this had shaken the crew to no end, luckily we manged to fight the swarm of and dispose of their bodies. I have never heard of bats bursting out of dead bodies and never seen something that bloody before, it was all over the deck the crew are still cleaning up, sprites are defiantly low I pray we return to London in one piece and bat free…