Airships and Porcelain Dolls

[The Mood is Write]

[bimg=fright|no-lightbox]https://i.imgur.com/l9W7COE.png[/bimg]A tiny doll traces history's making...

A whole big world, with steampunk or Victorian technology, is experiencing big changes. Firearms are replacing crossbows, and growing in popularity. Soldiers are discovering camoflage. The upper crust display their wealth with tight and fanciful clothing, while the lower class goes hungry as the gap between the classes grows. Armies are taking to the field, and the roar of guns fills the air, sending many able young men to their deaths. Together, we will tell the story of this torn world through the travels of a doll and the person who discovers her.

Spoiler

A Sleeping Doll Rests

The three sides in the conflict are the Ruvans-- natives to the area, the rebellion-- peasants rising against their Ruvan overlords, and the Hildi-- war-hungry soldiers from the south who are suspected of arming the rebellion.

 

[The Hound of Drengrheim]

Name: Gustave Rainer Archibald
Nick Names & Aliases: 'Bombs' Rainer
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Occupation: Imperial Officer of the Coracesan Navy & commanding officer of the I.N.S. Stormwarden
Order: Knights of the Burning Sky
Rank: Knight Lord Commander
Birthplace: Helios, Capital of the Empire
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 6'4
Weight: 245bs
Build: Muscular, broad shoulder and large frame.
Age: 32
Apparent Age: Late twenties to mid thirties
Likes: Sporting combat, falconry, fine wines & ports, reading, cigars, trying new things, large cities, baking, hot bathes, complex technology, big game & monster hunting, cartography, classical art, playing music, marksmanship, ballroom dancing, the art of war, high society, sniping, high caliber weapons and Masquerade balls.
Dislikes: The underclasses, bad wine, poorly played music, the wilderness, stagnancy, burnt food, magic, mages, poor marksmanship, jamming firearms, his ship being damaged, mutiny and counter snipers.
Location: Empire of Coracas, Helios or The Skies.
Skin Color: Tanned Caucasian
Hair Color: Chestnut Brown
Eye Color: Jade Green
Accomplishment and Skills of Note: Expert horseman, swordsman, marksman and savateur. Decorated knight and respected captain. Graduate of the First Imperial Officers Academy in the top five percentile, duel focus of Strategy & Tactics and Engineering. Skilled player of the violin and the accordion. Amateur Sommelier. Winner of two bronze place awards in the Heliosian chefs bake off. Winner of a silver marksmanship medal in the the Heliosian Royal Games. First place shuffle boarder on the I.N.S. Stormwarden.
Occupational Responsibilities: Following the orders of superior officers and the chain of command unquestioningly. Ensure the safety of ship and crew, sacrificing both to keep the vessel from enemy command. To bright wrath and ruin upon the enemies of Coraces both home and abroad. To command the ship and crew to ones best ability. To give service to the Empire of Coraces even unto death. To stand stalwart against all danger and terror.

 

[The Mood is Write]

Archibald's company waited for him in his ship ahead, and he was on prisoner escort duty, with only two of his own people with him to guard a heavily-chained man whose face was hidden by a metal mask strapped in place to keep him from biting. He swayed as he walked on bare feet, kept drugged heavily by regular injections by one of Archibald's two men.

The walk through the heavy forest at night was at times dizzying, occasionally nerve-wracking, and always difficult. The trail, supposedly broken by the rest of the men, was full of roots, branches, ferns, and not a single sign his men had even come this way. The occasional giggle from the prisoner, and the way that the wind blew chill in midsummer seemed ill omens, and the man in charge of drugging the prisoner gripped his rifle tightly as he looked about with nervous, shifting eyes.

"Sir?" The young man started to speak, then shook his head. "Nevermind." He was sure he was imagining it—it was just cold because the air was dry, he was sure.

The prisoner giggled as he turned to look at a point just over his shoulder. His giggle turned into a laugh, and the young man fingered the next syringe, wondering if it was safe to dose him again already.

As the quartet walked, the trees seemed to finally thin out, and the underbrush became slightly less obnoxious. Moonlight ahead became visible, and a hill came into sight, surrounded by buildings. As they approached, a house came into view that hadn't been included on any maps they'd been using. It was two stories, and looked intact, if infested by moss and vines. The home was made of stone, by all outward appearances. The glass in the windows was cracked, but unbroken, and the door hung open on one hinge, threatening to break off at the first stiff breeze that blew by.

The inside was completely dark, and the moonlight that reflected off the panes of glass was an eerie silver that made the house seem to stare down at them with a pitying gaze.

The moon, so bright in the clearing, turned everything into shades of silver, and illuminated the clearing from behind Archibald and his men with the brightness only a big, full moon could bring, and the wispy clouds only served to make it seem that much brighter.

There were no stars visible in the quarter of the sky the moon occupied, and as the prisoner was led forward, he slowly became quiet, then began to resist for the first time since his capture. "Nn! Nn!" He jerked himself around, restrained by shackles on his ankles, and more around his wrists that forced him to hug himself. "NnnnnNn!"

"Sir, permission to tranquilize him earlier than usual?" The young man with the syringe asked, eyes darting around as he felt a chill run slowly down his spine.