Steampunk Expeditions: The Lost Jungle Temple (RP)

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"Its an honour to be working with the two of you on this trip"

Kai shock the mans hand in respect

"Lets hope that our work wont be required, and that this is a trip of discovery over anything else"
 
Dinann grinned. "I'll surely drink to that! Is there a pub on board?"
 
Rorik pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to a partially-hidden stairwell. He couldn't tell if the people entering and exiting were guests or dockworkers. Undeterred, he readjusted his pack and started below decks.

He was hit with a sudden blast of heat – this seemed to be a service entrance, most likely connected to the engine room in some way. Well, this would get him there eventually. He began the long journey downwards, dodging shipwrights and engineers as they dashed off to make last-minute adjustments. To be honest, he liked this place better than the frivolities on deck; it was hard for a hunter like him to blend in with pastries like them. Sure, one might think he should be playing businessman during the trip, chatting up potential clients, but he wouldn't trouble himself making nice with the guests; he'd have plenty of business contracts when they got to Africa and they all realized how royally screwed they were.

He reached the bottom of the stairwell. It was getting a bit warm now. He glanced down the corridor and spotted what looked like the engine room – perhaps he'd journeyed a bit too far.
 
"Inzeed," nodded the other doctor. "Vat vould be ze most desirable ov outcomes, but ve do vat ve can, ja? Und ze people aboard vill not be entirely defenseless should ze vorst occur. Anyhow, you are most velcome to look about ze ship for ze first hour or so ven ve cast off. Zere are no particularly trying cases just yet, though I vould not be surprised if ze second-class passengers begin seeing us for sky-sickness after zat."

*****

The worker shook his head. "No pubs, me friend. But she does have a galley the crew can get a pint from when they have time."

He grinned. "Ship will be castin' off shortly, an' me services will be required, but perhaps sometime after that I might find ye and buy ye a richt gud-willie draught, eh?"

*****

There were certainly quite a lot of wheels and gears and pipes and important-looking levers everywhere, and it was rather loud. Steam hissed and screeched, metal smashed against metal, steam-turbines whined, and Tesla-built electric arc generators and coils snapped and crackled with a strange humming noise that was still alien and unfamiliar in these times, given the infancy of electromagnetic science and research.

The machinery was, however, not exactly the only thing that caught his eye.

Directly before him was the brash and egotistical mechanic and genius, Miss Viola Cooper.
 
"Ah, yes... how foolish of me," Dinann said, nearly slapping himself in the face. "Drinking at a time like this... now's the time to cast off! I'll join you for a drink when you see fit," he chuckled. "Meanwhile, I'll see how I can help this fine vessel launch."
 
Of course, it happened that the hunter had arrived at a particularly inopportune moment, and almost as soon as the Miss Cooper turned around, there was a great belching of steam from a vent nearby, and a POP! as a bolt came flying loose. Too fast for the eye could see, it ricocheted straight off a pipe, and went (thankfully blunt end first) directly onto the mechanic's forehead, hitting her between the eyes.

It took all of half a second for the woman to start falling, though the hunter's reaction time was enough for him to help her if he wished, or leave her to fall if he felt uncharitable that day.

The woman might need some medical attention.

((Morning Glory is now an NPC until she returns.))
 
Vrach had spent the last month wandering Europe, dodging agents of the underground. Seedy hotel to seedy hotel all his efforts to evade his pursuers utterly useless.
"Things are not going to end well if I continue in the manner" Vrach muttered to himself. A sigh of exhaustion leaves trails of vapors in the cool morning air.

Stopping at a small corner stall to buy a pear, the stack of newspapers next to a young boy who is just getting setup for the day catches Vrach's eye.

Maiden Voyage of the HMS Fortune!
A massive undertaking to the dark continent to be this magnificent vessels first flight....

Vrach looking up from the paper and starts to walk slowly down the street, checking his back in the gleaming shop windows that line the street.
"Shites" he exclaims loud enough for two ladies admiring a pair of heels in a nearby cobblers shop to look up and exchange disapproving glances.
"Pardon" Vrach offers hurriedly as he quickly cross the street. A man Vrach had seen following him out of a local winery a few nights and a couple of towns ago has indeed continued his hunt.

"Well I have been meaning to take a trip, Africa isn't my ideal getaway but under these circumstances it will have to do." he says under his breath to no one in particular.

He turns the corner and pick ups the pace, a light jog to the next intersection. Another quick turn and he has bought a few second where the man trailing him is hidden from view. A trolley, its cables humming slightly above the din of the street, approaches a bit fast it's next stop a few block from here.

"Well this might end poorly." Vrach takes off at a run parallel to the trolley, as it passes he jumps barely getting his hands firmly around on the post at the back of the trolley. Pulling himself up a few of the passengers glances up but none take much notice. He moves further into the trolley concealing himself among the other passengers. Glancing back the pursuer rounds the corner and glances hastily around, a look of frustration creases his face at the lose of his target....

Half an hour later Vrach arrives at Britain's Imperial Sky-Port it brass gleaming brightly in the afternoon sun.
He approach the guard stand fishing what little money he has left from inside his vest.
"One ticket for the HMS Fortune, please. Something with a window would be preferable." he asks spirits still elated from the prospect of being out of reach of his dark past.
 
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"Indeed I shall go for a wonder around on this vesel, One must aquaint themselves with the suroundings before working, I shall return A bit later on, If you need me before you need just call"
 
Rorik caught the barest glimmer of the shooting projectile as it knocked out the young lady. Though he often used 'tough love' to impart his wisdom, random accidents weren't conducive to learning.
He caught her as she fell, laying her on the hard steel deck. Her life didn't seem threatened by the blow, but surely there was a doctor around who could take a look at her. Rorik glanced up and down the abandoned passageway – the crew chose this moment to leave him alone.
"Well, let's get going, missy."
He considered throwing her over his shoulder, but figured she wouldn't appreciate that. Instead, he held her like a newborn pup and started back to the upper decks.
 
"One ticket, third class, sir," replied the ticket-vendor, quite bored. "Sign here please."

He pushes the ticket forward with a company receipt, writing an "X" in front of a line.

*****

"Ja, sehr gut. Please enjoy yourself, Doktor Svift," replied the other with a nod before turning back to the intern.

"Zarteen bottles ov quinine, zen rollz ov gauze..."

*****

Despite some bumps on the way up, Rorik was able to get his new hundred-pound load up the stairs in decent time. Workers seemed to be quite busy, distracted enough at any rate not to notice the man carrying a mechanic around.
 
Kai heads out of the medical office and one more time into his room placing his mask as well as the black robe onto a coat rack and on his desk, underneath the robe was his White lab coat and Red shirt as he heads out the room and makes his way down a corridor which apeard to split into two

"Hmm Maintance or Deck, Well Ive somewhat explored the deck might as well see the working conditions"

Kai heads down the path leading to the mantinace stairwell
 
Vrach quickly signed "his" name on the ticket, smiling politely at the clerk.

"Спасибо, (thank you)." Vrach said walking quickly up the gangplank, stuffing the last meager remains of his once large roll of cash back into his vest pocket.

Once aboard the HMS Fortune Vrach could not help but look about at the pristine wooden decks and polished brass everything shining, spotless for the vessel's maiden voyage.
"Now this is a great feat of engineering, my room can wait this place warrants exploration." Having been on nothing but small blimps, painted black and sailing low to the ground to evade detection, this vessel was like nothing Vrach had set foot on before. Her mere size and apparent complexity had Vrach enthralled lost in his own thoughts.

Vrach was abruptly jarred out of his current train of thought having nearly ran into a man weather worn and scarred, so distracted by almost being bowled over Vrach almost didn't notice the limp form of a woman held gently in the man's arms.

"Pardon, Precvyet, (hello) my name is Vr..Vete." Vrach stumbled over the name almost forgetting to use the alias he had signed on his ticket. " I am a pharmacist, if you tell me what happened I might be able to offer some assistance."

"I might also be able to make a little cash." Vrach thought to himself the emptiness in his vest pocket reminding his of the need.

"Požalujsta, (please) anything I can do to help?" Vrach put on his most sincere smile, pleased at having someone to which his wares could be of use too and the chance for some desperately needed capital.
 
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Rorik exited the maintenance shaft, acutely aware of how unusual he seemed in the present environs.
He shifted the girl in his arms and scanned the deck, trying not to tickle her with his whiskers.
German. He looked down at the young man – another dandy - and grumbled something to himself. There was something about this 'gentleman'.
"Steam pipe blew. Nail to the head. Knocked out cold. Don't need a chemist."
He turned away and spotted the black robe and mask of a doctor conveniently heading in their direction. Rorik left 'Mister Vete' and moved to intercept the physician.
 
"Why on the contrary Sir, a chemist is just what you need."
Vrach chimed after the man carrying the unconscious woman. Taking quick steps, his briefcase bouncing off his legs, Vrach fell in beside the older man. "A small brew is all that's needed, heprime and meloatrin for the swelling and a small touch of operaphine to dull the pain and prevent a nasty headache. The lady will be, хорошо, (well) in no time."
Vrach retrieved off his belt a small vial of the aforementioned brew and held it out, its contents gleaming amber in the sun.

 
Rorik towered over him. A bit too eager, that one. He glowered down at 'Vete', straightening to his full height and flexing his muscles slightly.
"What do you want?"
The man reminded him of an Oriental street vendor.
 
"Why to help of course, a better medicine you would be hard pressed to find elsewhere.
Here, Vrach holds out the vial, gesturing for the man to take it, try it. I'll bet my life on it that with this she will make a full recovery by sunrise tomorrow."
Vrach takes great pride in his medicine having spent countless hours creating cures and antidotes for the drugs and poisons he was forced to create. This is a chance to prove his ability and just maybe the start of a means to support himself not built on the suffering and deaths of others.
 
Meanwhile, Dinann was wandering about below deck and happened to notice a bolt sitting on the floor. Having a perfectionist personality, unable to bear the thought of one thing being out of place, he picked it up and began searching for the opening it belonged to.

Just his luck, Dinann's search started off in the wrong direction, and he began a journey through the workings of the HMS Fortune's underbelly in furious search of an empty bolt-hole, taking care to step out of the way to allow workers to pass by.
 
"Your life?" The man raised an eyebrow and shifted his holsters, looking deadly serious. "Don't make promises you can't keep, boy."
He looked at the young thing in his arms, so frail and helpless. In his opinion, it was mad to let mere girls near dangerous machinery.
Rorik scanned the crowd for the doctor, but he seemed to have vanished. Harrumphing to himself, he began pushing his way towards what he hoped was the direction of the medical facilities.
Maybe the annoying German would get lost in the crowd.
 
Vrach sighed heavily in frustration, "The big oaf just wouldn't listen." He thought to himself. There was no point in arguing further what was he going to do, force the man to give the poor women his remedy. He looked the man up and down deciding that course of action would be even less effect than his current method, and that he might end up being the one in need medical attention to boot.

"Very well, I can see you don't want my help. The medical facility is just up this corridor to the left. Good day, Sir." Vrach said trying very hard to keep the cold edge out of his voice and failing. People that refused help, professional help at that got on his nerves.

Vrach spun around and continued his inspection of the ship, it was nearly fifteen minutes before he remembered to pull the ticket from his vest pocket and check his room number. "I am getting tired of carrying my luggage around, best go put my things away." He headed to the nearest stairwell off in search of his room.
 
Dinann found himself in a great factory-like chamber, filled with all manner of pipes and gears and chains and gauges, hissing and screeching and clanking. Catwalks hung high above, almost four stories up, with railing that looked as tiny and brittle as twigs from this perspective in comparison with the massive steam chambers and electromagnetic engines that made the vessel run.

Meanwhile, Rorik could clearly see a clean doorway ahead, to the left as the German had said. It was decorated enough to tell him this was obviously something meant for guests rather than crew, and thus probably closer to medical facilities. The doctor that he had seen probably exited from this very door earlier.

Vrach saw a clean decorated doorway similar to the one he had gestured to earlier. It was not, of course, the first-class doorway, which was rather garishly displayed towards the rear of the ship within convenient walking distance of the captain's quarters, but it was functional and had enough frills to satisfy most of the second-class passengers.
 
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