High Upon the Aether

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Cammytrice, Oct 2, 2011.

  1. [​IMG]

    OOC Sign Up Thread

    Greetings, dear traveller.

    We thank you for docking with us today. Please watch your step as you disembark. This is a recorded message. Once this message is complete, you will be offered a selection of additional recordings available at the call box at the end of your berth, which will provide further information about The Aether - Sky Harbour. Please stop at the clerk's office before leaving the docks to register your ship and pay for your berth for the night. All berth fees must be paid in advance.

    If you require repairs to your vessel, please use the call button at the end of your berth. This will summon the Aether's head engineer, Arthur Bray. He will examine your damage and provide you with an estimated cost of repairs. Repairs will be carried out by engineering staff and steambot.

    If you require stock, you may visit the market. The market stocks your basic supply needs as well as some offerings unique upon the Aether. Directions to the market are provided in a separate recording. Please listen carefully to the options at the end.

    If you require meals, please visit the Captain's Lounge Public House. Captain Kavenagh and his staff provide a wide selection of pub fare daily and is open for late arrivals. If you require information not included in this recording, Captain Kavenagh invites you to seek information with him.

    If you require lodgings, there will be an option to hear a listing of lodgings and prices at the end of this recording.

    At the Cirrus Theatre, we have two shows currently playing. For the matinee, the Cirrus is pleased to present a marionette version of 'The Magic Flute', and for the evening, a shadow puppet showing of Shakespeare's 'Comedy of Errors'. Tickets are available at the door.

    If you would like DIRECTIONS TO THE MARKET, please press Button 1 on the call box.
    If you would like to hear TODAY'S MENU AT THE CAPTAIN'S LOUNGE, please press Button 2.
    If you would like to hear A LIST OF LODGINGS AND PRICES, please press Button 3.
    If you would like DIRECTIONS TO THE AETHER'S HEAD OFFICES, please press Button 4.
    If you would like to REGISTER A COMPLAINT TO THE AETHER WATCH GROUP, please press Button 5.
    If you would to call for VESSEL REPAIRS, please press the Call Button.

    Again, we thank you for docking with us upon the Aether. We appreciate your business.[/SIZE]

    The recording ends with the audible absence of crackles and pops, and the welcoming steambot lets out a hiss of steam before chugging off down its rail towards the next ship coming in to dock. The clerk's office lays ahead, blocking the exit from the docks to the rest of the floating harbour town. A call box is situated to the side of the pylons that hold the ropes attached to the stern of the vessel. It has a speaker and six buttons.

    Set into the wooden planks of the docks and even the gangplanks are a maze of tracks which the dock's steambots use to navigate their way to and from each vessel, performing repairs and delivering supplies.

    Just past the wrought iron fence that cordons off the docks, a building with a large ship's wheel for a sign indicates the entrance to the Captain's Lounge Public House.
  2. William just sat there silently as the crew started getting ready to dock. He checked his pouch, as he father came towards him in a lock step.

    "Are you ready?" His father said with a sudden halt. Nodding William began to walk off the ship. A hand grabbed his shoulder into a hug.

    " I will miss you son. I know this may seem hard now, but this will turn you into a man. I promise." his father whispered.

    "I will you miss you too dad. Don't worry, I will be fine. I can just find a place and a job and I will be set. Ok?" William retorted, patting his father's head. With a final handshake, he steps off the ship. Bag in hand he stepped off the ship and took a look around. Crewmen all about with their own little jobs to do. Weaving in and out the best he could he made it into the clerk's office.

    Harry Harcrest was a thief and a smuggler, and it was the only thing he was ever good at (except, as his mother would attest, training kittens). He was that delightful kind of criminal who always got caught and always tried to reoffend in more ingenious, but ultimately more idiotic ways. Six foot four, raw-skinned and with a thick, burly moustache that did nothing to hide his vacant expression, Harry sat at the bar of the Captain's Lounge and made a covert sidewards glance.


    Harry kept his left hand perfectly still on the bar and reached across with his other arm, doing his best to look casual.

    "... BAKGHHRR OKKR!.."

    The snorting sound made him freeze and return to his original pose. There was a slight rattle of metal and then silence again.

    Beside him, Roman Benedict, sergeant of the Aether Watch, lay slumped over the bar beside Harry whilst snoozing contently. He had a pitcher of ale next to his face and a handcuff around his wrist, linking to the handcuff around Harry's wrist. The two men were mannacled together and had been for the last hour, ever since Roman had dragged Harry in here on his way to the prison.

    Roman had a habit of getting sidetracked.

    The criminal reached over with his other arm again, trying to get his chubby fingers inside Roman's pocket, where the keys to the cuffs undoubtedly were.

    "... GNNNGHRRR!..." Roman sat bolt upright suddenly and Harry recoiled, almost falling off his bar stool. The watch officer snorted and blinked, looking around the bar suspiciously. Then he turned to Harry and flinched slightly, forgetting for a moment that he had a smuggler cuffed to him. "Ah, Harry." They stared at each other and Roman nodded pointlessly. "Good man. Now, what was I saying?"

    Harry gave his best grin as the bar stool creaking under his weight. "You wuz discussin' lettin' me go, Sir, wot wiv me learnin' me lesson an' all."

    Roman narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't sound like me."

    "Well, tha's jus' me accent."

    "Quite..." Roman looked at the bar again, eyeing the shelf of exotic drinks, then looked as his pitcher of ale, then back at Harry. Then he looked at the handcuffs. "Did you arrest me... or... did I... er..."

    "I wuz smugglin' tobaccah, Sir. But I ain't gunna do it no more, wot wiv that speech ye gave me. Seen the errah of me ways I 'ave."

    Roman scratched his stubbled chin. "I see your point. But perhaps the more pertinent question is... have I seen the error of mine?" He contemplated for a moment. "This needs drinking on." He saw the barman at the other side of the bar and raised his hand suddenly. "BARKEEP! WAAAAAARGH!!!"

    He had raised the cuffed hand. Harry was pulled off his seat and as he fell his weight took Roman with him. The two men tumbled off their barstools and landed, piled atop one another, on the tavern floor.
  4. "Good evening, sir. May I have your ship's name please?" the clerk requested, looking up at him from behind tiny spectacles.

    The clerk's office was tiny but neat, and he himself stood in a small booth built into the wall behind finely cut glass. Being a highly fastidious man, this was probably the cleanest place in the entire harbour. Every piece of wood shone with warm-coloured polish, and the thick panes of glass in the windows were sparkling clean, and kept out most of the sound of the busy dock area, so much so that you could hear the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

    As the clerk awaited his reply, he checked his intricately carved pocket watch, which ticked in time with the clock, and set down the exact time and date of the ship's docking.

    Suddenly, there was a muffled 'boom' that shook the entire Aether, and sent bits of dust and grit falling from the ceiling. The clerk seemed quite unfazed, except for grumbling darkly about the mess. He pressed a button and a little robot zipped out, whirring on its gears as it used something of a dry mop to both propel itself and clean up the floor. Likewise, a spider-like robot crawled along the wall, dusting the higher surfaces.

    The clerk himself dusted his own booth with a feather duster, clearing the mess from his book and desk before looking up expectantly at the young man again.


    "I dinnae think so, boyo," came a grumpy answer from behind the bar.

    The Captain was getting a bit tired of watching the captain of the watch being unable to watch someone who actually needed watching. One thing the bureau of owners wasn't worried about was losing money paying Roman Benedict. All his money was simply recycled on the Aether.

    "Ye cin have some water an' some fare, but ye'll nae be gettin' another drop 'til ye sober up some. Why don't ye go an' git some work done fer a change? Me knees are nae so good tadey; I dinnae feel up ta draggin' yer sorreh arse outta here, aye?"

    Captain Kavenaugh roughly set a bowl of stew and coffee in front of the stool the drunk man had recently vacated in favor of the floor. He simply sniffed at the sorry pile on the floor in front of the bar, and went back to cleaning glasses and serving the other customers.

    When the explosion rocked the Aether, the Captain simply sighed and set the medical chest up on the corner of the bar before the bottles and glasses even finished rocking and tinking against each other. He had no doubt a certain someone would be along soon being in need of it. The regulars of the Lounge barely raised an eyebrow at the disturbance.
    • Like Like x 1
  5. Before Will said anything, the boom had caught him off guard. Taking a defensive stance, he grabs a hold of his pouch. He looks at the strangely still clerk.

    "H--Hope Floats, sir." he muttered.

    Relaxing a little, he takes a step and leans on the counter.

    "Hope Floats, sir." He said louder, attempt hoping to make up for the soft first answer. His matching shirt and pants didn't seem to help his confidence at all. Will watched as the robots cleaned up around the area. He wondered what the previous "boom", but he thought not to ask because, ignorance of some spread quickly. Being strong was important to him.

  6. The airship Guardian of Paradise was a mess, a wreck some might say. It listed to the side crookedly as it fumbled along the currents. One of it's horizontal stabilizers flapped wildly in the wind while a small steam bot clung to a control cable hanging beneath it, swinging with every movement of the airship. From where it hung, the little bot more than once came close to the whirling propellers. A man in his thirties was half hanging out the window swinging his fist in the air, over the winds one could barely make out his words "Get... stab... attached.... worthless.... waste..... scrap metal! Damn!" His final curse word was punctuated with a loud bang that blew one of the propellers off.

    Pulling himself in, Sortaec closed the window and clasped it shut. "Almost there..." he muttered as he pulled a pocket watch from his vest and glanced at the time. "Of all the problems, thunderstorms off the coast to rogue steam bots messing with the boiler pressure regulators" I'll be glad when I can get this horrid lot of steam powered fiends off my ship. A second loud bang shook the airship to it's core, "another engine..."he muttered placing a hand to his forehead and pulling his fingers across his face.

    This time a crash erupted that shook the ship, threatening to rip it apart. "No!" He shouted tearing down the corridor, "I leave the wheelhouse for fifteen minutes and you can't dock properly?!" He was yelling at a large, fat steam bot that had just let go of the wheel. "What is this docking you speak of?" the steambot asked casually, Sortaec stared stupidly "I bought a pilot bot that can't dock an airship?". He fixed a blank stare at the small electric eyes, he couldn't yell at something that didn't know what it was doing, so he yelled at a fern that was growing in a small pot in the corner.

    Shortly thereafter he looked back at the steam bot, "Just... go survey the damage Screwjack" he waved him off then looked out the window at the docks. He knew there'd be damage, he'd pay for it in full. His boat, and the docks. Property damage was always more expensive though. "The next time I need assistants, I'll just hire them" he muttered as he pulled his cloak on and stepped out the starboard side entrance hatch and onto the dock. "First, some sustenance" he stopped in front of the call box and pressed a gloved hand on the "2" button.
  7. A head of spiked albino hair appeared at the bar, followed by a pair of eyes that peered at the stew and coffee left by the barman. "Coffee at this time in the morning? The man's a savage."

    Roman climbed back onto his bar stool, dragging Harry up with him, who also reclaimed his chair. The fat man looked expectantly at the stew then at Roman.

    "Habeus Corpus will be the death of me," muttered Roman, before sliding the stew across to the fat man. As the bowl was set upon like a lame gazelle Roman nursed his coffee and stared through the window beyond the bar. A minature snowstorm of dust and masonry was falling over the shipyard as a loud boom shook the Aether. Then his eyes drifted to the captain, remembering his earlier tirade. "A scandalous accusation, if I may so, Sir. I am clearly in the midst of an arrest."

    He raised his right hand, which pulled up Harry's left, and a spoonful of stew hit the ceiling. Harry grinned nervously at the captain.

    "Nefarious villainy in the midst of Hanger Twelve. I have here the mastermind of a contraband operation."

    The captain stared back at Harry Harcrest, giving him the same look he had given Harry on the twenty-seven previous occasions when a watchmen had caught Harry in the act of some idiotic misdemeanour.

    "The Aether can sleep safely tonight, knowing that this ruffian is behind bars." Roman continued, before sliding his coffee mug ever-so-slightly towards the captain. "Any chance of a dash of whisky, old boy?"

    The Sergeant's smile twinkled as white as his hair.
  8. "Ah...what another fine day in the wake of The Aether eh sire?" said the words of a man well past his prime dressed in fine servant clothing that would stat that he worked for a man of great status. He stood in a lavish manor, in a room that was draped in brass and copper. The walls would remind one of the romantic era, painted with decorative flowers and garnished with brass as copper siding ran up and down the corners of the room. In the far back side of the room opposite a wall size window that showed the great spans of the land and sky before them, The Aether harbor just glistening in the sunrise like a jewel, was a king sized bed with a style mirroring the walls of the room. Within the confines of the bed was the man in which the first had acknowledged. "It's only a fine day when it begins with my balance in the black..." said the bed ridden man. He rose from the confines of his ocher sheets and looked to the great expanse that lay before him through the window. He sighed as he rolled out of the large bed, and planted his feet to the floor, he running his hand through his bed head nest of gray and white hair. "Speaking of the balance...Arthur, have we heard anything on the Broken Lance? They were supposed to make port today..."

    Arthur, having had the schedule on a wooden pad behind him brought it before him and placed on a pair of brass spectacles, "Well sire, The broken lance has yet to dock but the Zephyr's call landed late last night. Appearently they were hit by a nasty band of raiders but they managed to keep all there cargo." The man on the bed sighed gruffuly as he smoothed his hair back, he standing to show his toned yet light frame as he made his way over to teh window, he looking upon the beautiy of the sky and land with a frown, "This will not do Arthur...The broken Lance was due two days ago and now my crew on the Zephyr's Call is going through bandit territory...Uncle would not like how things are going..." He said as he folded his arms in disgust, "We need to get these damned armaments out of that Port or I might have more than a little money trouble..." Arthur then bowed, he trying to reassure his boss, "Master Uunia, these things do happen. You just have to be patient. Why don't we jsut make a stop in to your favorite Pub and check in on your investments there?"

    Uunia shook his heda, noticing Arthur's attempt to cheer him up and chuckled, "Alright old man. I'll try to be positive...you had better be able to find out about those ships however. I hate to have to worry about all that money being lost in the stratosphere..." he said as he made his way down a corridor were a maid was there to assississt him in dressing. After a few minutes, Uunia was garbed in a brown tailored shirt, brass colored vest, and his usual black pants and jacket tassled with copper and brass. He then looked in the sleeve of his jacket and saw the mechanism that was meant for the hidden claw. He flicked his wrist and felt the metal go around his hand and the claws went on top of knuckle and curved out. He ran his finger along the blade to test the sharpness and smiled, "Hmm...alright....prep my ship Arthur, we'll stop by docks to check on the Zephyr, then we'll stop by the lodgings to find outselves either some entertainment or an engineer...our last one met his end by the engines I'm afraid..." he said with sigh. "Very good sire, I'll prep The Maharajah post haste."
  9. The Titanic was ship that lived up to it's name. It moved gracefully and swiftly through the clouds, despite the size of it and it's current situation engaged in battle with a horde of pirates. Indeed, the ongoing battle was a fierce one! The roar of cannon fire was an incessant rumble, drowned out occasionally as another pirate ship exploded under the fire of the Titanic's unrelenting firepower. Captain Robert Spaulding stood at the bow of his powerful warship as it thundered towards the biggest of the pirate vessels, blowing apart the smaller ships as it passed. Over the roar of battle, the brave Captain called to his men, "PREPARE TO COMMENCE BOARDING ACTION!"

    His men scrambled to their positions, and Captain Spaulding assumed his place among them after embracing Catherine is a passionate kiss. His love had been loathe to leave his side, even as he sailed his ship into danger. He grabbed the nearest rope and swung fearlessly unto the pirate vessel, into the pirate throng below. The criminal scum were all about him. He sent one stumbling with a swift kick, and he sent another off of the ship with a blast from his flint-lock pistol before engaging a third with his steel. As his men swung aboard behind him, they began to repel the pirates back, across their own ship. The pirates fell before them, hardly able to defend themselves against this relentless onslaught. The day was almost won when Captain Spaulding heard his name called behind him. He turned, and there stood Del, King of Pirates, with a blunderbuss as massive as the man in question in his hands. This pirate leader might have been a handsome man once. Now, his face was covered in a patchy beard, an eye-patch, and many fearsome scars. Captain Spaulding cared little for his features at the moment, however; it was the blunderbuss that had his attention. He barely had the chance to react before the Pirate King pulled the trigger.


    Captain Robert Spaulding woke up suddenly, sitting up and shielding his face with his arms, as if that would protect him from the blast. But there was no blast. A bird had collided with a beam holding up one of the airship's three turbines. The bird squawked at the Captain and promptly shat on his ship before taking flight once more. He had only been dreaming. This was a comforting thought, initially, but... Spaulding sank back to the floor as the harsh reality of his current situation was realized. There were no men aboard the Titanic save him. He hadn't seen Catherine since he left His Majesty's Service almost a decade ago. He was no hero, there was no glory to be won. As for the Titanic itself, graceful, swift, and especially large it was not. In fact, it was a miracle the thing stayed in the air. Spaulding had that to be thankful for, at least. He walked to the bow up the ship and looked ahead. The Aether loomed before him, promising safety, repairs, and, most importantly, ale. He would be there shortly, so he straightened his hat, took a deep breathe, and puffed his chest out. He thought one day he would no longer be able to keep up this facade. He would lose it, break down and throw himself off of the nearest tall object, maybe his own ship...

    ...but not today. His smile slowly grew.
  10. "Bzzzzzzz". "Bzzzzzzz". "BZZZZZZZZZZ" he pulled his finger away from the button he was pushing and stared at it. "Obviously there must be a problem" he reasoned. Without a second thought he pulled a revolver out of it's holster and parted it up, placing the gun components in his cloak pocket, and withdrawing a drill-type apparatus that hooked to the feed hose from the air tank on his back he affixed it to the handle. Then proceeded to pull the coverplate off the back of the call box, "there must be short somewhere" he thought to himself as four audible "Clinks" could be heard as the bolts hit the dock. The cover off the back had just been pulled and he was staring at a tangled mess of wires when he spotted another airship, in almost as bad a shape as his pulling into the harbor. "She looks like she's seen... well... " even mentally, the proper description just didn't come to mind. His gaze faltered again and he looked up to the impact point his ship made on the docking pen.

    "Oh... damn it all" he muttered. This was going to be an expensive waypoint, his investment had paid off in having the reinforced nose cone installed on the front of his ship. But at the price of the docking pen, of which it had punched a hole through. The canvas aft of the nose cone had been peeled back revealing the gaseous cells that kept it afloat. Luck had been on his side a little at least, had one of the cells blown, his entire ship would have deflated in the pen. "Sir, it appears you've punched a hole through the docking pen" he turned to see screwjack rolling down the gangplank towards him. "Thanks screwjack" he muttered, "I hadnt noticed". "You're welcome sir" screwack replied.

    "I've assessed our damage and it doesn't look good." The pilot bot was holding out a clipboard with a list of figures and items, snatching it from him he eyed the list skeptically "three engines?? I only heard two blow up" Sortaec replied befuddled. "Sir, the pressure feed lines to engine number six are shredded, it was only a matter of time before it..." their conversation was interrupted with a final loud "BANG" as engine six blew off it's propeller and three support beams, the engine hung useless from the final support, threatening to fall off at any moment. "That's it.. we're pen ridden for at least twenty days". Screwjack stared emotionless at him as he walked off down the dock, the call box still in pieces behind him.
  11. "Hey! My (cough!) call box! You took it apart and didn't put it back together! (cough cough!) Though I don't know why you would take it apart since the button's on the front and not inside it. Didn't you listen to the welcome bot? I calibrated him this morning and cleaned up the sound of the recording which wasn't easy I'll tell you, since the person who did the recording has long left port and I don't plan on seeing him again since he simply walked off the edge of the harbour and its quite a long way down which I'm surprised you haven't seen that for yourself seeing as how one of your engines is in such bad shape it's a wonder you haven't been down yourself, so I can understand the crash into the dock but it'll still cost to repair and we'll have to dock you at another pier so we can fix that one as it's quite busy, the Aether, and we can't have piers out of commission for too long but don't worry as it actually happens more often than you'd think. But anyway, if the call box wasn't working, it was probably knocked a bit sideways for a few minutes by the explosion which I'm sure you felt, but don't worry everything's under control and nothing's on fire this time since I had the workshop specially reinforced after the last one which I'm sure everyone thought I needed since they all pitched in to help me which is a bit of a first..."

    The rambling speech came from a short, dirty-faced and skinny fellow with the mask of clean skin in the shape of the goggles atop his head. He had just finished coughing out the last bits of soot from his lungs and was running up to see what had crashed into the docks at the most inopportune time, knocking his hand as he was mixing a compound and causing his workshop to explode. Again. Even as he spoke, little bots zipped around to each pier's call box to realign the circuits. The one at Sortaec's pier made a furious whirring sound before setting to work, seeming to show its agitation at the destruction of its box. In reality it was winding itself up tighter for a more complex repair.


    "Hope Floats...and how long will your ship be in port sir? And the nature of your visit with us...supplies, shore leave, repairs..." the clerk asked, firing questions at Will as he jotted down the name of the ship in neat, accountant script. Meanwhile, the bots had finished their work and disappeared back to where they'd come from.


    Kavenaugh grunted, unimpressed. Harry was another frequent flier through his bar. More often than not, it was on one end of a pair of handcuffs. "Don't y'tire of bein' hauled through here ta th' lock up, son? Ye could do a lot more wit' yer life than tha sorreh excuse fer a criminal. In my day, a boy like ye'll be pressed into tha service, an' a real man made o' ya," he lectured the rogue once more as he tipped some amber liquid from a bottle into Roman's coffee. It was colored water. He never looked at the sergeant the entire time he did it.

    "Git yerself a real job, boyo. I dinnae want ta see ye in my lounge again with them shackles on."
  12. Within moments from the rear of the large estate that lay in the highest point of a mountain, just a dozen kilometers from the Aether Harbor, a small vessel meant for cruising lay stationed, to which Arthur was beginning to prepare for launch. As Uunia made his way out onto his personal dock, his maid bringing up the rear with her hands filled with a few of his documents, toast, juice, a boiled egg, and his double barreled clockwork pistol with ammo all on a tray. He picked up the gun and started to chamber his rounds as he spoke to Arthur, he pressing a few buttons on a near by console to order the robots that tended to the ship, "Do tell me, what ever became of our friend the...what was his name...oh of all the times to- Lonshire! Yes, that's it...what ever became of him?" "Unfortunately sir, he was that poor fellow that failed to repay the debt to your uncle prior to his death. Master Farthing was sent to deal with him." Uunia then sighed, he adjusting front nozzle of his weapon to see for any wear, "Hmmm..pity...I was hoping to share a drink or two with him..." he said just before taking in the egg. As the robots went to making the few minor adjustments to the engine, replacing an internal fuel pump and meding a slight tear in the sails, Arthur went to the side, stepping onto a button on the floor of the pier to bring up the stair case which clicked its way up to the side of the Maharajah.

    Once the steps were fully up, Arthur made his way to the front of the ships as the robot did there last bit of repairs before rejoining the underside of the pier. Uunia was now finishing his toast when a loud bang could be heard from the Aether, Uunia chuckling, "Looks as if that little one's blown up another batch of experimental fuel...or something close to it..." he said before munching down on his cooked bread, "Let's hope He's in better shape than humpty dumpty." Arthur chuckled slightly as he inspected the robot's work before announcing, "She's read for you sire, the sky awaits you." Uunia then downed the rest of his juice before stepping on board his gem of a vessel. The maid started her way up as Uunia found his seat at the front of his beloved ship, he having a grand seat that was bolted to the top of the ship, it meant for sight seeing. She handed Uunia the papers as she went to the sails, she taking off her white apron and gown to reveal much better fitting traveling clothes. With Arthur at the helm and the maid running the sails, Uunia sat and watched eagerly as they departed from the private spot, catching a bit of the wind before turning on the engines, the giving off a might roar before simmering down to a gentle hum. "Now, lets go to the eastern side so we can avoid any fallout from the explosion." Said Uunia as Arthur stirred them to the port town.

    After a few moments, Uuna's small little vessel made its landing rout to the far side of the port, passing by the Gurdian of Paradise (smoke and all) and the Titanic. The two man crew landed the small glimmering ship on the far side of the port, a long ways down from the others as Uunia prepped his documents given to him earlier. He stepped down from his vessel ignoring the little call box as he alwasy did, having practically lived in the aether most of his life. He side stepped a few of the little serve bots that tottered and wirrled there way around the port as Arthur hurried to keep up with Uunia after making sure most of the docking procedure had been taken care of, "Sire, it might be best if we follow your set plan....rather than going about as we usually do-", that is when Uunia gave him a look of, 'who's in charge here?' which in turn Arthur sighed, "I-I'm sorry sire, but it's just...we do tend to get a bit side tracked." Uunia then chuckled and said, "Hey, it was you who told me not to worry, so I'm gonna take my time, see the sites...and check on the little guy who might have blown up the port again..." he said with a laugh.
  13. William stood there a second. He had to think about every question, before answering. The pouch was put down, before the given answer.

    "2 days, no repairs needed, and the crew is in need of some good grub." Will declared.

    He listened to the commotion outside. Robots were making noise. Engines were starting and dying. Curse words were being thrown like dead newborns. His foot starts to lightly tap to a beat that formed in his head, from the background noise. Looking down, he notices the fine handwriting.

    "You wouldn't happen to use those hands for a hobby or do you? They seem very steady. Are you an artist perhaps?"

    Opening the zipper, Will searched for the money to pay any fees.
  14. Sortaec looked up from his musings as the sound of the short skinny fellows voice registered in his ears. His brows furrowed slightly as the speaker seemed to speak until he had no breath left. Blinking a couple times, he gathered every iota of concentration he had and put it towards understanding the quick words, he'd been away from civilization for to long and this fellows voice was the first human voice he'd heard in many months. After a moment of processing he spoke....

    "Ah! the call box, well see... the button, the 'two' button weren't workin' to well I thought it might be a short in a wire" he smiled and waved it off as something minuscule. "as for the repairs to your fine docks, those will be paid for. Though there are more important things afoot! firstly I need the name of a specialist... a behavior modification specialist. 'Fraid my entire crew of steam bots has been beset with a nasty case of gumworks. They don't function! see there?" He pointed out a band of small steam bots beating each other with wrenches whilst hanging out the windows of the airship in repair harnesses. "Now imagine that lot trying to maintain an airship? doesn't happen, no sir... not even a little." he paused here, staring at the band of steam bots "As for my ship repairs, i'll be needing to know the pen my airship will need to be moved to, and... finally where can I find some decent food stuffs?"
  15. "It'll be moved down to pier 12 and you probably should've pushed the call button first before the menu button, especially since you're going to need to inform the clerk of the length of your stay and I'd be the one who can give you that information since I'm Arthur Bray which the welcoming bot should've told you that I'm the head engineer and I also service the steambots on the docks so I'll probably be the best person to repair your bots as well as your ship and we have our own service bots for ship repair so you can go ahead and shut down all of your bots and I'll get right to work with estimating the cost of your repairs but for now you can go and do that and tell the clerk that you will be here for 30 days as a safe estimate but don't worry if you're here for less time you'll get your balance back and you don't have to pay for the repairs until they're finished so you'll have money now to go and get some food from the Captain's Lounge since that's the closest and the best place for food and I should know since I eat there all the time but you don't have to tell them that I sent you..." he rambled on again, giving Sortaec all the information he needed while he took a pair of spectacles out of his pocket and compulsively wiping them with his handkerchief before placing them on his nose. He was still talking as he pulled a notebook and pencil out of his pocket and began to take note of the damage.


    "I'm an accountant," the clerk answered simply, expecting him to understand the meaning behind that statement. Accountants were trained in a specific, demanding script to avoid forging of accounts by the untrained. "That will be five pounds per day for docking fees, payable immediately.
  16. The feeling of slight defeat came over him. He felt stupid for asking. Will hands the accountant 10 pounds. Re-zipping the pouch, he stood up straight.

    "Is there anything else, sir?" Will said politely.
  17. "Ah, well lesson learned I suppose" he looked back at the call box with an air of curiosity. Pulling a small rectangular device out of his cloak, he pushed a small green button. Instantly the group of steam bots hanging out of the windows fell limp in their harnesses. "Screwjack, collect those miscreants and deliver them wherever Mr. Brey here wants them, then guide the Guardian to Pier Twelve" he paused and looked at the swaying steambots hanging in their harnesses. "in hindsight I should've done that sooner" he mused. "Alright, I'll leave them..." he motioned to the lot being retrieved from their harnesses "to you." He handed Mr. Brey a five pound note and walked off towards the clearks office, "take care of her and I'll tip you an additiona fifty including the cost of repairs" he made a motion towards his ship and disappeared down the docks.
  18. Richard stepped off the ship with shaking legs. How amazing. There were so many ships in the harbour - to be expected he supposed, but still. There were all kinds, shapes and sizes. If he knew more about them, Richard knew he'd probably have spent his last handful of coins on getting aboard the best one, if for just a moment.

    The boom startled him from his thoughts.

    "Repair work?" he asked out loud, then smiled. He'd love to see someone working on ships.

    But that wasn't why he was there. He shook his head and smiled. He had to concentrate on finding James, or at least a new clue to his brother's whereabouts. Plus, he had to sell some poetry, or he'd not have enough money for breakfast tomorrow. At least this place looked well-off. It was just a matter of finding someone.

    And it certainly wouldn't be the big man stood nearby who looked devastated at paying ten pounds for docking. But the man had arrived on a pretty nice-looking ship. Maybe he was richer than he first appeared.

    Richard glanced around to make sure there was no one better suited for approaching, then stepped forward.

    "Nice day, isn't it, Sir?" he said in his most jovial tone. "Just the kind of weather for some literature. Don't you agree?"
  19. Roman bobbed in his seat as the captain poured precious amber liquid into his coffee. Then he lifted the mug and guzzled it down.

    He could almost taste the alcohol... almost feel the burn...

    And as he drunk his scalding coffee flavoured with coloured placebo water, Harry sat beside him and finished his stew. "Can't be a soldier, Sir," He gave the captain a sheepish look. "Me mam says I got flat feet." Then he remembered his predicament. "Oh, er... but I sure 'ave learnt me lesson 'ere, Sir! I fink this'll be a new start for me, wot with the lessons you gived. I ain't never gunna steal annuva thing for as long as I.."

    "Yes, alright Repentzel!" interrupted Roman as he finished his coffee and stood up. "You can turn over the rest of that leaf in the cells. Let's go. Chop chop!"

    Harry grumbled as he got up and shuffled after the sergeant, but kept hold of the spoon to lick on the way. Roman led him towards the door, staggering as he found his feet and called over his shoulder. "Never fear, Captain Kavenaugh, Sir - I shall see this scoundrel clapped in irons and placed before the fullest reckoning of Her Majesty's law. Never again shall Harry Harcrest threaten the livelihood of the decent hard-working m--"

    He slammed into the door frame. The whole tavern shook slightly and Harry paused mid-spoon-lick.

    "Aagh..." Roman muttered as he clutched his nose and reeled backwards. "It's dangerous out in the field," He doubled over, gasping, and shook his other arm, making the handcuffs rattle as he gestured at Harry. "Station... just... get me to the station!"

    Harry nodded and began leading the watchman out of the tavern and towards the jailhouse.
  20. He poked his head in the door of the clerks office looking around curiously, "this must be the place" he muttered. "Excuse me sir!" he nodded to the clerk as he began digging through his coat pocket walking towards the counter, is this where I sort out my docking costs? looking at around 30 days of being here". He shuffled through his pockets before pulling out a stack of bank notes. "How much would that be?"