IWAKU: Steampunk Millionaires

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The corgi was eventually placed on Theodore's head. A pair of hands hovered over the body, making sure the furry hat would not lose balance. Satisfied with this arrangement, Theodore descended the boarding ramp to participate in the fun. Striding down the gangway, he was forced to make way for a plague doctor, a few of which he had seen in similar garb wandering around the city. Pausing on his way down, he delicately twisted his head to stare at the doctor's back as it ascended onto the deck, his expression somber for but a moment before he resumed his descent, filing away this incident to the back of his mind. As such, he was able to escape the medical inquiry due to a technicality.

"Can we keep this one?" He was bouncing up and down lightly on his toes, which did not seem to affect the dog much. It laid on its belly on top of his head, panting and barking intermittently. His contagious smile had returned to his face, and he lightly tapped his fingers on the sides of his legs, in tune to the energy of the crowd.
 
Camilla del Bosque emerged from her cabin, her head buried in her notes. She'd done her research on the Firefox, and was now on her way to inspect the ship to see what parts matched her notes, and correct the notes of the parts that didn't. There were also gaps in the map that she had just spent time in her cabin drawing up.

Tucking her notebooks into a pouch hanging from her belt, she first clipped the hems of the front of her skirt halfway up so that she could move and climb freely, and then took the time to pin up her hair, humming a little tune to herself as she held her hairpins in her mouth. Merely nodding a greeting to the doctor, she paused to retrieve her notes and map from her pouch before getting ready to continue on.

Aware of the yelling and hollering and now, barking?, going on in various parts of the ship, she wondered whether she should take the time to meet the other passengers and crew before resuming her exploration. There would be plenty of time for both once they were underway, so it was no rush in pursuing either. Camilla allowed herself the rare opportunity of standing still and contemplating two equally viable options at her leisure.
 

"DOCTOR! SHE'S GONE MAD! I DEMAND YOU SEDATE HER WHEN SHE RETURNS! OR REMOVE HER LIVER! SHE CAN'T SHOP WITHOUT HER LIV- STOP WALKING AWAY!"

Captain Asmo ceased yelling up the gangplank after Doctor Surgeon. It seemed the avian eccentric was not in the mood for conversation. Since the Doctor first assisted in defrosting Tegan on the previous expedition he had grown ever-more erratic in behaviour. But whether this was due to Tegan's influence or the Doctor's own unfurling nature, Asmo could not be sure. It ever there was a single unifying characteristic of Iwakuans, it was this:

They all made each other worse.

Asmo turned back to Aeris and straightened his naval jacket. He continued the conversation as if there had been no interruption. "A rigger? Excellent! We're in need of a fresh deckhand. The last chap died. Rigger Mortis. Anyway... the Firefox has the Mark IV Mutentum Engine, so that's one day of flight for two days of steam-paddling. We can cut that time in half if we switch to sail. So plenty of rigging opportunities ahead."

He glanced up as a corgi dashed past Camilla's legs and urinated on the quarter deck. "Plenty of swabbing opportunities too."

From the front of the ship, the foreman's call signalled that the main hold was sealed. With the bulk of the cargo loaded, the smaller luggage was being taken up the gangplanks or hoisted in by steam-crane. The gyro-rotors were going through their test spins and anything loose was getting strapped down or jettisoned.

"Report to Silias, the Boatswain. Big chap with mutton chops and a face you want to moisturize. Can't miss him."

Asmo turned and slapped the corgi off of Theodore's head.

 
Rasna was presently trying to wedge her way past two chatting dullards.“Excuse me, can I just--AARGH!” There was a holler of pain from one of the men as he stumbled backwards, clutching his lower back, just as Rasna slipped past the lumbering obstacle. “It’s like an endless parade of twats!” She shouted to no one in particular and to everyone at once. She was hot, she was harrassed, she was tired of these over-priced shops and these stinking drunks. Rasna was well beyond fed up. It was time to go back to the Firefox where she belonged, protecting her captain and ensuring that the new recruits hadn’t already sunk the damned thing. Tegan’s little shopping trip was over, whether she was ready or not. Rasna would drag her back to the docks, kicking and screaming if she had to. Or so she could hope.
Where had that poshy little witch gone off to?!


"Murder! Murder! Someone call the Staffies!"

"Shit!" Rasna was already shoving her way through the clamoring crowd, her hawkish eyes scanning for Tegan. She found her in an alley, stooped over the crooked remains of a girl. "Get away from her, Tegan!" The bodyguard's hand found Tegan’s shoulder.

Tegan's eyes were wide, desperate. She jerked away from Rasna's grip as she took in the sight before her. "No, wait! I can save her!" She was already on her knees, one gloved hand over the girl's savaged throat, chanting the words--

"Playtime with the dead prostitute is over.” Rasna’s hand was a steel trap clamped on the back of her coat. “We're leaving. Now."

-----

Tegan was borderline inconsolable and there were few things that Tegan hated more than being angry. It completely ruined her joie de vivre and all the scowling was no doubt carving her face for future wrinkles. She was over two hundred years old, she couldn’t be too careful.

Tegan glared pretty daggers into Rasna as they walked abreast back towards the Firefox. The tension between the two well-beyond palpable at this juncture. It had reached critical palpable mass and gone well over the threshold of smothering. "I'm a powerful sorceress. Why wouldn't you let me help that poor girl?"

Rasna’s words were carefully counted bullets in a chamber. She was not a particularly patient woman (her temper would never allow it) but she was a gifted gun. Any shootist worth their salt knew when to conserve their ammunition."Because the captain would have my hide if I let something happen to you." Then: "And because no one can bring back the dead."

"You saw me come back to life with your own eyes."
Tegan countered with a fold of her arms.

“I saw nothing. The doctor would let no one into the operating room.”

A pregnant pause and then a narrowing of Tegan’s kohl-rimmed eyes. "You don't believe in my powers, do you?"

Rasna was wisely silent.

-----

Tegan fumed (elegantly, so as not ruin her makeup) as she stalked up the gangplank, past Captain Asmo and the line of gawking/fashionably quirky new recruits. The Captain paused his interrogations for a moment to unleash his full fury on the woman.

“I AM IN NO MOOD.” She stalked past the man before he could even open his mouth. Rasna was not far behind the furious woman, but did not follow her any further. Instead, she fell into place next to, yet slightly behind Captain Asmo, her expression neutral as her eyes swept over the queue of recruits.

“Captain.”

Tegan paused for a moment in front of Dr. Jack’s blanket of medicated candies, scanning them. The doctor regarded her silently through his plague mask as she knelt to gather up three lollies that simply read ‘Nerves’ before continuing on, mechanical spiders and corgis clicking and yipping excitedly around her ankles.

“I’ll be in my quarters for the rest of the afternoon. No visitors.”
Tegan popped one of the lollies into her mouth.

And she had been having such a good hair day.
 
Unhappily, Theodore caught the corgi as it yelped, falling off his head and into his hands. The panic-stricken creature tossed and turned in his hands, freeing itself from his grasp and falling to the ground, where it quickly righted itself and bounded back up and onto the ship, disappearing beyond his sight. He stared at it for a minute or so, a peculiar expression on his face. Perhaps it was one of deep introspection.

Probably not. He was momentarily distracted by Tegan's dramatic entrance, and whimsically followed her ascent up the boarding plank. Coming to a sudden decision, he followed after her, his fascination with the small barking creatures pushed into a distant second. Unfortunately, he was eventually halted by the same sign he had managed to just slip by earlier, and stood at the barrier proffered by the piece of paper, unsure of how to respond. He offered a large smile to the beaked medicine man, and stood at attention with his hands folded behind his back.
 
Torsty was laying in his bed while his own nurse, Margaret, were mixing up some potions for him. Much younger than him, she was surprisingly calm and cool for a girl her age taking care of a man of his reputation.

"I think you might have caught an alphavirus, Sir." Margaret said with her usually steady voice.

"Meaning what, exactly?" Torsty questioned.

"Well, you've most likely picked it up on one of your latest trips in the wild. You must have been bitten by a mosquito and from there the virus entered into your blood-stream."

"How will it affect me?" Torsty wrestled with his tiredness to let out another question.

"Well, since I've been able to prevent it from developing further, you should be doing fine in a couple of weeks time. Still, all your symptoms fit. Fever, headaches, drowsiness and your sudden signs of fatigue matches with encephalitis."

Torsty sighed heavily in response, his head resting on a pillow, looking up at the roof.

"How does your neck feel? Is it stiff?"

"No, it's fine. Feels normal."


"Good. Thats a good sign. You should get some more sleep now."

Sleep?! More sleep? He thought to himself, frustrated from lying in bed all day, feeling like a heap of dead-weight. As if the way he had arrived earlier that morning was not embarrassing enough for someone like him. Keeping a strong figure while in public had always been one of the keys to success in his field of work.
Him and his men had boarded the ship before the sun had woken up that day, hoping that no press would be at the harbor. He had payed out of his own savings to make sure he would have no trouble with the captain for allowing himself the special treatment. He could have asked his partners in Iwaku City to pay for him, but he didn't want to link any debts to his name with those people. No matter, they had gotten aboard under special circumstances, hours ahead of the pack. Torsty came in a wheel-chair, he'd covered his face with big black sunglasses and a top hat. He had even brought cash, just in case they had to pay off people to keep quiet.

While he had been laying in bed, he had listened to the commotion build up gradually outside his cabin. From the chatter outside he could hear more and more people gather to have a look at the HMS Firefox. Some had simply turned up to see the sight of Asmodeus himself. Apparently someone else had caused a bit of a scene among the common folk though, and that was exactly why he had chosen to bring Margaret along. He would not put his trust in Doctor Jack Surgeon treating his illness. As history had proven, working for the government of Iwaku took it's toll on your sanity. Eventhough, Torsty was more curious about how his former colleagues would greet him. Further he pondered who else he might find among the crew that could serve to his interests.

A couple of hours had passed since Margaret had left him alone to rest. Torsty lifted himself up so he could sit on the bed, moving his legs to left so they could touch the floor. He felt dizzy. His medication must've done him good, because he had none of the aching pain from earlier. He took a heavy breath as he steadied himself with his fists planted in the mattress. Most of the pain was gone, but moving around was still more complicated than usual.

Getting out of bed and on his feet was still a small victory, making sure to stretch out his body before leaving the bedroom. He entered the livingroom catching the attention of Margaret, Alfred and Jonas. The latter two being representatives of the mercenary crew. They could roam freely around the ship as they wanted. Torsty did not hire them to be his guarding angels around the clock, their part of the job really didn't start until they had reached Moonwings.

The living space was crowded with places to sit, chairs and couches put in a circular pattern, making for little room to manouver around. The only thing that stood out in the room was the tiny round table that was placed in center, mostly used for card games and the like.

"What are you doing up?!" Margaret bounced up from her chair, clearly not expecting him to be up this early.

"Sit down!" Torsty retorted. "As a nurse, I'm sure you would agree that too keep me in bed against my will...causing me mental ills..is not healthy. I'm feeling fine! Only a bit dizzy. Hand me a glass of water and I'll be fine!"

Torsty finally made it out of his cabin, supporting himself with his right hand while moving down the empty aisle towards the stairs. He concentrated on taking deep breaths while closing in on the deck-floor. Whatever it would take for him to look as healthy as possible, he had told his crew that if anyone questioned them about his well-being he was only going through a case of bad fever.

On deck, Torsty took time to have a look at the people. Sniffing in the air while reaching with his arms for the sky. To be among the living again felt so good.

Adjusting his suit-jacket as he started walking to wards where Asmodeus was greeting new crew-mates and assigning roles for them to fill. It only seemed right to greet him now, besides, witnessing the circus that was Tegan was out of the question currently, from what he had overheard the commoners say.

It was around this moment that one of the corgis decided to involve him into their play-time, using his shoes as a chewing-toy.

"No-...Wait-...Get off me!" Torsty reluctantly tried to get the dog away, by any means not trying to make a scene. The dog responded with growling as he clinged on to the shoe with his sharp little teeth. Torsty reached for whatever he could find nearby and got hold of an iron-pipe that was just lying around. He bowed downwards to swing closely at the corgi, only to warn it off, never with the intention to hurt it.

Truth was, Torsty loved the four-legged fluffy creatures. Though it seemed that today the world was not working in his favour.
 
"Aye aye, sir," Aeris said with a wry grin, eyes staring at the figure of the Doctor Surgeon. He turned back to Asmodeus and muttered his thanks before continuing on his way, nodding greetings to Theodore as he passed.
A slight bounce in his step showed his happiness at being allowed aboard- well, with the Captain's say of course. If he had been decllined boardage he'd just have had to sneak on and become, what was it? Oh yes, a 'stowaway.'
He ignored the Medical Examination sign not wanting to be examined by any doctor, no matter if it was necessary or not. He couldn't but help stare at the strange doctor in his strange costume, with his equipment and..lollipops?
Aeris stared at the bright inviting sweets and had a mind to take one when a woman came and took one for herself and stuck it in her mouth.
He winced. Nerves.
 
"Doctor?"

The word was barely uttered, but it carried with it strong emotions. There was shock, confusion, resentment but above all else, curiosity.

The woman turned around, loosening her hold on the cape. The fabric fluttered gently in the breeze as she examined this Doctor. He was an odd fellow, she surmised. Why the hell he had a beak plastered to her face she wasn't so sure, but other medicine men in other cultures dressed weirdly as well. She shouldn't be surprised.

Her eyes scanned over the flier he put up.

Medical examinations are necessary for all crew.

She was a part of the crew wasn't she? Captain Asmo had yet to kick her out. But what if she didn't pass the medical exams? Not that she had bothered with doctors. There was no way he could cure her, this doctor couldn't be a progeny. She tried to cure herself but that didn't do anything. She would know better than a doctor right? Right?

OOooOoo lollipops.

Getting on her hands and knees she picked one up, a bright yellow one. She was about to pop it in her mouth when she read the label.

"H.I.V...? OH GOD!""

She threw the candy away, turning furiously to the doctor.

"What sort of sick game are you playing?" she demanded, showing him the wrapper in her hand. "Why would you want to give this to someone?"
 
[size=+1]They’ve been improved since last I encountered them, honed for speed and agility, the perfect way to bypass the raw strength I can throw about; I’ve taken maybe four steps before the first of the darkly-clad men collides with me and drives a blade into my shoulder. With a roar I come crashing to a stop, swinging round and grabbing the nearest piece of furniture to defend myself with. This corridor is narrow. Good; it means they can’t get around me easily. If I can just hold them off long enough to reach the other door I--

--The second one hurls another dagger at me, this one sinking into my chest. Getting too distracted with my own thoughts; I don’t feel the pain a man would but I feel the rage of being outwitted by my assailants. With a roar I hurl the chair down the corridor at him. Big mistake; both of them easily duck under such a cumbersome attack, the chair colliding with a man who has just stepped out of one of the rooms. They’re coming at me again now, racing down the satin-red wallpapered hallway with a speed I could never hope to match.

Another exit must be sought.

On my right is one of the rooms; I throw myself through it, the door splintering into shards of wood. It’s unoccupied, thankfully; with the force of my entrance I continue forwards, gripping one of the poles of the four-poster bed and pulling it free. Using the momentum I swing my improvised weapon about, knowing full well at least one of them will be behind me.

My assumption proves correct. The club shatters against the head of one of my darkly-clad pursuers, the force slamming him into the wall of the room. I don’t wait to see if he’s getting up, or if his companion is following; I’m already moving for the window.

No time to take the standard exit from Myrnodyn’s parlour.

With a roar, I hurl myself through the curtained opening, solid glass forced to part as I escape my pursuers and fly out into nothing but air. For a moment, it’s almost peaceful; my eyes are shut, and all I have accompanying me is the sound of breaking glass and air rushing by my ears.

As with all things, it’s too peaceful to last.

Snapping open my eyes, I’m plummeting down two storeys towards the misty streets of the Underworld. Screams from the fallen glass greet me as I crash to the ground, going to one knee as the stones I land upon crunch audibly from the impact. No time to take in the scene; the Staffies will be here soon enough, and my attackers before them. I’m taking off in a run out in the direction of the docks before anyone is stupid enough to try and stop me, the gathering crowd parting like a wave as my enormous form rushes at them.

This city is not safe for the likes of me. And I have only one option if I wish to leave it on my own terms, as I see it. A desperate option, yes, but my short life has all but been filled with options that can only really be described as desperate.

I must go and meet this captain who calls himself Asmo. His ship may well be my only chance.[/size]
 
I was still getting my bearings settled when the big man engaged his assailants in direct combat - he didn't seem to be doing too well, from what I could see here. He had knives sticking out of him. That wasn't too good .. Right? Yeah. It wasn't too good. Even I knew that.

I think.

A hand reached out, flat against the wall as I steadied myself completely and I continued to look at what was going on; the bigger man was strong, certainly. Very, very strong, but the others were fast. They were unnaturally fast. What was going on? Curiosity got the better of me and I walked forward, all poise and elegance, a stark contrast to the staggering fool on the floor seconds before. I swore I saw the wall shook as something heavy hit it with a loud thump, and I peered into the room. All I saw was a large shape leaping through the window and the sound of breaking glass, and then the remaining ones that were still standing rounded on me.

Not good.

For once I considered drawing my blade and butchering all of them - they could be quick, but they could not kill me, definitely.

And then I remembered that the only reason I stopped by was to get back my youth and I had to go to the docks to meet Asmo. If I were to engage them in all-out combat now would be a huge waste of time and I doubted that I would like to see any more blood shed today. Figuratively, of course, assuming that those creatures were less than human. Instead, I decided that I should ru-

The one closest to me lashed out at me and I barely ducked it. His foot flew up, barely more than a blur and I caught it on my forearm, stumbling back. I could feel my arm numbing already and that wasn't too good a news - I couldn't die but I'd still feel the pain of being lynched by a couple of freaks. I rolled away from the next blow onto my feet and I swung out with the metal end of my cane. It collided with a satisfying thud in the man's face and I could see him stagger past the doorway and another stepped out.

Bloody hell.

I caught the dagger that he thrust at me with the slight hook at the end of my cane and I threw myself against the wall, guiding his motion with my cane and I put a foot to his behind, throwing him into the ground. I dashed past him and I hit him in the back of the head with my cane, just as a dagger skimmed the side of my face. A flash of pain caused tears to fill my eyes but I ignored it. It would heal. More importantly, I needed to run.

I sprinted as fast as I could down the stairs and I slithered my way through the crowd, pushing aside customers and courtesans alike with a combination of shoves, hard smacks and swings of my cane. I finally made it out into the streets but I didn't stop to catch my breath.

The ship.
 
Afzal eyed Hani as his partner was chatting it up with some fine ladies he had just met. Hani always used their occupation to attract the attention of random new acquaintances. Or maybe it was just his natural charisma and good looks that made the ladies stop and listen? The latter was most probably closer to the truth. Afzal was also a mercenary, but the ladies didn't seem to give him the same treatment. Afzal was the elder, his face covered with marks of a experienced fighter, his body was built for killing and protection. The same could be said about Hani, he was just somehow....shinier. His hair was a bit blonder, his skin was a bit tanner, even his scars looked nicer.

When it came to their skills in battle, all knew that Afzal was the better swordsman of the two and would most likely win in a duel between them. But Hani was his best friend, and he was sure Hani felt the same way about him. They had known each other for a long time and worked together for most of that time.

So why did he feel so jealous about Hani's gift? If he really wanted to get in on some of the action, he could easily pull that off, so what was it exactly that made him feel this way? It was evident what it was, to him at least. Hani had never probably even dwelled on the subject. While Hani was a happy and easy-going person of nature, Afzal was the calculating and analytical, deep-thinking person. Maybe it was why they made such a good team, maybe it was something else. Afzal knew that Hani was the kind of person that they would write poems about, he was the perfect hero. Handsome, kind, but also confident in himself. He just lacked a bit in his swordmanship, and if Afzal could help him become hero, then he would, he owed that to Hani.

They had agreed to work as Torsty's guards because of the high payment they were offered and because of the excitement a journey like this created. They hadn't had any jobs with a potential like this one. Though Afzal hadn't envisioned that he would spend time butchering dogs for his client's sake...
 
Carefully sorting through his medical equipment, Doctor Surgeon was not initially aware he was being watched. Perhaps it was experience, or maybe pessimism, but he'd honestly expected the crew to ignore the sign as a whole and reap the unfortunate consequences later. Few seemed to understand the vital process of medical records. Even with his clearance, it was still a feat in itself to acquire the details of those boarding the Firefox. Most of them were hired from the docks themselves, given as little screening and prompting as one might a single raisin in a box. Personally, Doctor Surgeon had used this insight to assume that everyone who was not already listed on the ship manifesto were secretly plague-spewing rats in people suits just waiting to cause another pandemic. So it was with curiosity and some caution that he straightened, glancing between the grinning man-child and the caped urchin going through his candy-immunizations.

Oh yes. The man-child. He had information on that fellow. One Theodore by first name, and quite the little entrepreneur at that. Talk of the town! Talk of the upper class! But these days, one could be weather and still make it to the conversational subject matter of the high-born. Not so much an accomplishment, but by virtue of that blathering, he knew more than he might have. The Doctor inverted two fingers beneath his beak into a v smile, cocking his head at the young man.

At least before the urchin revealed her dreadful identity.

A Banshee.

No...worse

An enemy of medical advancement.

"My dear...whoever you are," Doctor Surgeon explained carefully, plucking the wrapper from her white knuckled grip and retrieving the lollipop, "Do refrain from throwing things which are not yours. How would you feel if I did this to your liver? Hmm? Not so righteous then, hmm? No. I imagine you'd be suffering from a great deal of shock and internal damage. But I digress." By now, people from outside the ship looked up the boarding plank.

Suspicious peasants....the lot of them.

"These are a break-through in medical vaccination, protecting the body after a brief period of ravaging it with the symptoms of their choice." He held out a hand to the lollipops. "I have preventative pops as well, to the less wellness dedicated, but I haven't had time to place them all out yet. I keep getting interrupted by small minded simpletons too excitable to ask for an explanation rationally." He sighed through his mask, more a hiss than an actual resignation.

"Are you submitting yourself to medical examination? I have a list of the crew, but as personality flaws aren't attributed besides the name, I'm afraid 'impulsive' won't help me locate you from the others."

He turned stiffly to Theodore, offering a short bow.

"Ah, Mr. Theodore, your cryptic reputation precedes you." Reaching into a pocket, he waved a single piece of paper in front of his face insistantly, letting it go in midair to pushing his fingers together in a frown beneath his beak. "Cryptic to the end. Mayhem industries has listed your medical records as classified and regrettably as we live in a close minded counter productive monarchy oligarchy, I was unable to retrieve the necessary information."

He paused for a moment, waiting on an apology? He didn't elaborate, instead launching into speaking again.

"If you can provide me with your vital statistics and any current afflictions, we can finish our evaluative process in far less time than it might take this yowling lady over here." He motioned to her without turning, "Those not submitting to a formal medical examination will deny themselves my treatment. I refuse to heal the diseased or otherwise cancerous...not without it first documented and understood. If you have any intention of being injured on this journey, I might reccomend the use of having a doctor such as I on call...but I am only a doctor, not a seer. I leave that judgement up to the patient."

Doctor Surgeon held up a finger,

"For now."
 
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Rasna look at Captain Asmo.

Captain Asmo looked at Rasna.

Rasna raised an eyebrow. "This is your idea of a crew?"

Captain Asmo shrugged. "They'll be fine. The cheaper the labour, the better the adventure!"

"We're all going to die."

"You said that last time."

"Most of us died."

"Well, I told you we should've shelled the polar bears from a distance. It's not my fault if you ignore sound tactical advice." Captain Asmo turned and jogged to the top of the gangplank, kicking at any stray corgis who had hung around to urinate. His bodyguard, Rasna, followed him wearily. The boarding was going nicely - half the new recruits getting bossed about by the Bosun and the other half insulted by the Doctor. This was efficient degradation, in proud Iwakuan tradition.

He pulled a conical mouthpiece from the wall, hearing a hiss of steam and clockwork. He put it near his mouth. "Cargo loaded, Mister Vay. Begin the pre-launch checks."

"Aye, Sir," came the odd accented reply from his helmsman, far below. There was also a corgi bark in the background. The infestation was spreading rapidly.

"We'll need a shift pattern," Rasna was saying as she glared at the newcomers. "They think they're getting an easy ride."

Asmo returned the mouthpiece to its hook. "Just a sea shanty or two and they'll be scrubbing the decks like clockwork. I have faith in the good people of Iwaku."

She turned her raised eyebrow his way. "You hate the people of Iwaku."

"That's the nature of faith, my dear. Now, what's Tegan blubbering about?"

Rasna glanced to the stairway leading to the lower decks, where their guest of honour had fled. "There was a murder in the streets. A young girl. Looked like the work of a blood-drinker."

"Vampires have no imagination." Asmo turned and went to the deck rail. Leaning out, he cupped both hands to his mouth and yelled at the crowd on the dockside. "LAST CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS! ADVENTURE AWAITS YOU, ON THE VOYAGE TO THE LOST CITY OF MOONWINGS! ROLL UP! ROLL UP! YOU PROBABLY WON'T DIE!"

 
It was warm. Warm and smokey. But mostly warm. That was the extent of Vanya's conscience thoughts. She was snoozing on top of a rooftop, relaxing in the sun and currently getting the crap beat out of her in her own mind. Ah the downsides to being one body several people. The lesson of the day? Brawling. With ten opponents. It was one of those moments when Vanya was jealous of other more sane people. But she wouldn't change it for the world.

~~Mindscape~~​

A fist coming her way, a quick dodge saw the fist go by her face. She would have sighed if she had the time, but nooo. They had to keep her busy. A flare of pain at her side had her gasping for breath, more so now than before. She continued to dodge blows, landing some of her own when the opportunity arose. It went on for another five minutes, bodies swaying in and out, muffled grunts of pain was heard when a particularly heavy hit was landed. Perhaps it would have continued, but a watcher whistled and the lesson came to a close. The winner? Not Vanya.

"It is time to go. The ship will sail soon." The speaker was a well dressed young man, golden locks falling in a wave to his waist, and magnificent white wings folded against his back. He was probably the most handsome of the males that Vanya had created and also the oldest. This was one she paid attention to. "Yes, I suppose it is time to go." She said, grimacing as the numerous bruises made themselves known.

"You do not want to be late for sure! Who knows what will be found on this journey!" One of the younger ones piped up eagerly. Vanya smiled and nodded at her 'children's' eagerness.

~~Reality~~

She sat up with a groan, blinking owlishly in the light of day. Her muscles protested her movements, very much sore even though the training was in her mind. A few stretches later and a mouthful of tepid water, Vanya began her way to the port. She took in the sights and smells of the city she called home, idly wondering if she would miss it. A chorus of "Nos!" and "Absolutely not!" served as her answer. She grinned and at the prompting of her only family, broke into a run. Running across rooftops was perhaps Vanya's favorite thing to do, few people were on the roofs, making it a safe and fun way to travel. She jumped from one roof to another with no pause, having done this since she was little and new to the world.

Fifteen or ten rooftops later, the port came into the view of Vanya's searching eyes. She stopped at the edge of a roof and surveyed the land below. There were masses of people milling around, each going about their own business with little thought of other around them. She could have stayed there, watching the multitudes move and talk. Or shout as the case may be.

"Move it." The voice whispered in the back of her mind, bringing forth images of traveling. "Right." Vanya nodded and began to descend from the rooftop. She could have jumped if she wanted to, but climbing sounded like it would draw less attention to her. Anything at this point that didn't draw attention to her was a good thing. There was no way she wanted to get into a fight this close to leaving it all behind!

She wove through the crowd in search of the Firefox the flyer had mentioned would be making the trip. Finding the ship took longer than getting to the port did she mused mildly irritated when she did find it, and took the irritation out on a man who tried to feel her up. The gasp of pain and the crack of bones made her smile, job done. Somewhat happy now, she made her way up the gangplank, stopping to coo at a small dog along the way. "Can we keep it? Please?" she mentally begged as the dog eagerly licked her fingers. Sighs were her answer and a few grumbles. She frowned, then shrugged and picked the mutt up. Oh would she have a headache later! She almost pitied the person who chose to pick on her.

She stopped in front of a man wearing a bird mask who was talking to another man about something health related. She waited her turn to speak by watching the various people moving about on the ship. " Am I to talk to you about boarding the ship or about health?" She asked when she thought it was her turn.
 
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The light beat down on Space's light skin as she made her way through the large crowd of people that bustled about as though there were some sort of fire not three inches behind them. Tapping the newly polished wrist gun under her long, flowing sleeve, she attempted to move a bit closer to the edge of the mass. There are simply too many people around here. I can't see worth a damn. As she finally reached the edge, Space, let out a sigh of relief as she saw the large vessel ahead of her. She straightened the goggles upon her head and moved forward, noticing that now she, too, walked as if being persecuted by a flame.

As she got to the boarding ramp of the boat, she stopped. How am I to do this? God, I don't know what I'm doing..... Should be fun none the less. Space walked forward a bit more before tapping the shoulder of a woman who seemed to be standing there waiting to speak with a man with an odd bird mask. She rather liked the mask; it was unique. "S'cuse me miss, but would you happen to know who we're to talk to to get onto this boat? I'm rather confused." She bit her lip, looking at the woman.
 
She was waiting for an answer when someone tapped on her shoulder. Now, living in the shady Underworld taught a person things, like how react to someone coming up behind you and tapping their shoulder. And like any decent Underworld civilian, Vanya reacted accordingly, with utmost politness. One never knew who you might meet, and the next person you meet might very well be stronger than you and looking for a meal.

Vanya turned around, a smile on her lips. The only sign that something wasn't right was her eyes, they were a vibrant green that almost glowed. It was the only sign that another being was in control of her body, no more was it Vanya but another in her place.
"I would think the Captain would be the one to go to." Her voice had an undertone to it that gave it an unnatural quality. One of her personas had taken over.

" This guy here is the doctor. I believe talking to him first before finding the captain would be best."
 
And so the dregs of dockyards had coughed forth new recruits to the Captain's ambitious treasure hunt. Holding up a finger to Theodore, the bird-faced doctor wheeled on the two new women. The first, the one who'd addressed him, was a strumpet of the undercity. She had that look about her, the disheveled poverty stricken aura that no one shook when they lived between the streets of Pennyridge and Markov. Cocking his head was the only warning Doctor Surgeon gave before he thrust his hand forward to grab one of the large trailing arms of the scarf around her neck, pulling it and her tightly and closer. "What a curious noose this is," He chided, wrapping it around a black gloved fist and pulling tighter before releasing it. "Hardly appropriate dress, young lady. Chiggers bite the thighs and the fleas of plague rats will nestle in your nethers." He inverted two fingers beneath his mask in a frown. "Take your example from the lady behind you. Such ludicrous amount of cloth will thwart even the most stalwart vermin."

At least his sign was being acknowledged.

"Declare your illnesses, mental disparities, and origins before entering this ship." The Doctor held out a finger and waggled it at the both of them, casting a sidelong glance at the yowling woman and Theodore. "I refuse to treat those who have no medical history. As the captain is a barbarian who has given only the slightest afterthought to medical facilities, I cannot be as thorough as I am comfortable with." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out four thermometers, holding them out to the four who had congregated at the top of the gangplank, "We will have to make do with the means we have." The echo in his mask did little to diminish the air of exasperation already needling his voice.

Underworlders, the slovenly lot best used as experiments rather than people...too many of them for his liking aboard. The average Underworlder was host to no less than five strains of plague possibilities, usually in the form of insects or bacteria infesting their dirt-smudged bodies. Not that any plague ever came of them, but with a little coaxing, Doctor Surgeon could motivate them to infect thousands...so Mother Nature (Tiresome witch) must not be too far behind.

Unbuttoning the fist five buttons on his long coat, the Doctor pulled out a clipboard and pen, leaning back against the wall in order to observe the four. A meticulous man, the doctor prided himself on making sure every precaution was taken to organizing the notes.

The categories were as follows:

Theodore

Banshee

Plague-risk 1 (Scarf-Noose)

Lady Fancydress
 
No sooner had she turned to talk to the new lady, then her scarf was grabbed and tugged rather harshly. She turned to face the doctor, her smile no less diminished under his rough handling. "Do excuse us Doctor. But we do believe that our manner of dress is not your problem to deal with." instead of saying the singular form, me, the plural forms us and we were used. All spoke that instant, more than one of them offended by the Doctor's remarks.

No doubt he thought she was disease ridden simply because of her living conditions
. " For the purposes of your job, since you must know, Vanya has never been sick in her twenty years of life. " Her voice sounded masculine with hints of never-ending patience popping up.

She wrapped her scarf back around her neck, tucking it securely back into place. Perhaps the only reasons she wore the thing was because not only did it offer warmth, but it acted like a weapon when needed. She was well versed in slings and nooses and other more silent killing methods.

Her eyes returned to their normal hazel color and she blinked, those sudden shiftings always confused her. Curious about the board, she stood on tip toes to glimpse what was written. She huffed and rolled her eyes when she spotted what was obviously her. "The name's Vanya, not Plague-risk1 or Scarf-noose. Couldn't you come up with something a little more original? " she asked standing back down and idly rubbing the side of her head with a free hand. The headaches were already starting.

The dog in her arms barked and wriggled to be set down, Vanya obliged it and watched it run off to explore the deck of the ship. She would miss it. Poor thing.
 
Cocking his head to the side, Doctor Surgeon observed her for a moment.

"If you slathered yourself in the rotting carcases of plague-rats and unborn infants, would you still expect me not to raise complaint to your garb? I'm a doctor, not your captain. Your manner of clothing will always be a concern...but only from a medical standpoint. Whether or not you telegraph your sexuality for rapists is of little concern to me. Your health when I treat you for any sexually transmitted diseases in the therafter, however, is my concern. But you're right. Foolish of me to classify you by your garb alone. Not even a guttersnipe would be dirty enough to wear a rag like that perpetually."

Raising his pen imperiously, Doctor Surgeon struck the name off the list, writing another beside it, holding the chart up away from her curious eyes.

This list now read.


Theodore

Banshee

Plague-risk 1 (Scarf-Noose) Schizophrenic Plague Risk 1

Lady Fancydress
 
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An extravagant carriage that was drawn by two pure bred Clydesdale horse pulled up to the dock. From the inside of the carriage, a man could be heard talking quite loudly, "Hurry Walter, the ship is about to leave and I refuse to miss it." Matthias knew that Walter, his lifetime butler, was trying to go slow intentionally. He knew that his mother had given Walter orders to delay as long as possible. Matthias was lucky though because he had better planning strategies and more patience than Walter.

When the carriage pulled up to the gang way, Matthias leaped from the carriage and ran up the plank that was the entrance. He reached the top and boarded the ship. He looked around but saw no one that he could talk to about becoming part of the crew. Matthias sat there in his red hunting uniform embroidered with white and white shirt underneath, and he looked lost. His rifle sat across his shoulder held by his right hand and moved with him as he looked from one end of the boat to the other.
 
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