Skitters's Story

Skitters's body tightened up, her four paws tighten into knuckles, she wrinkled her nose, and her face turned a light shade of red the very moment Max dropped the "R" word.

"Ehhh~! Rodent!? I'm not a damn rodent! I'm... Eh... ahem..." she coughed and regained her composure. She then crossed her arms and rubs her chin with one of her paws.

"Actually, technically I never gave my name... I-I couldn't... but, while my vessel is named Skitters, I fancy the name Basalah... it means bravery," she answers, looking rather proud. She then lifted her head and pecked the device on her neck with her nails. "As for this, I built it myself from scraps. Pretty spiffy, roight? Though the only bloomin' adult female voice modulator I could find has some weird bleedin' mock accent," she continued, her tone growing slightly irate. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, her face turning slightly red again. "As for why I'm here... well... look at me, I'm brilliant! But I'm also... stuck like... this. Unless I do something big, I'm just going to be some trash panda, or... r-rodent..."

Mr. Grimms stands by, rubbing his own chin with his massive hands.

"As for me, well, I must say, my business senses told me that opportunity was knocking," he says with a rumbling chuckle, clouds of steam billowing out from the teeth of his mask. "I used to be a bit of an adventurer in my younger days... plus, my little girl is getting tired of me skulking in my office all day, and has forcibly made me take a centuries overdue vacation."

John would nod as the two introduced themselves; a dwarf from somewhere called Nidvell, and a sentient... mammal with a female Cockney voice box. Well, at least they have another tinkerer on the ship, as well as a ship's mascot.
"Indeed," John would respond to Vragi. "You could call this a once-in-a-lifetime event." He would then turn to Skitters and listen to her introduction, his expression worryingly calculating, as if weighing her up. "Well, Skitters," John would say finally with a smirk. "Chances are, you'll probably get a free ascension while we're out there. But that's just fanciful thinking on my part."
He would turn to listen to Grimms' incentive. A presumably centuries-old businessman taking a vacation on the leave of his daughter. Well, he's definitely better-behaved than the other sorts of demons he had to deal with as the de facto leader of the Chosen Few.
"Well, if I've been working long enough for cities to crumble, I wouldn't mind a vacation myself," John joked. "Then again, with Old Albion, being the keg powder it is, I've technically been working all my afterlife. I suppose the usual gig with this lot (he would gesture to the Chosen Few, who had finished their supper) is a sort-of holiday. Certainly gets me away from all the paperwork, at least." He would clear his throat, or at least make the effort of doing so, and address the group. "Well, lads? What did I tell yer? There's always an adventurer looking for fun when you look. Now, if you all could follow me, I'll give you a vague tour of the vessel."
All oddities of the vessel were soon apparent as John led the group. As the length between the bridge and the engine was almost certainly half a mile, John would take the group through several doors, leading to another half-mile corridor which seemed to pass through all the other rooms on that wall. He would explain that he had discovered these "shortcuts" whilst wandering the ship, doors which lead to different points of the corridor, and had scratched some sort of code to each of the shortcuts. As the ship hadn't been fully mapped yet, this sufficed as the only means of figuring out where you are, apart from the main rooms - the Cafetorium, the Munitions quarters, the operations room where one could compile a map of whatever world they might stumble upon and generally keep an eye on whatever else that might be lurking in the Edge, the sickbay and others - which were properly signed. No forest was as unchartered as the S.S Victoria.
Eventually, he would lead the group to a set of doors, on the eastern corridor where the main one broke off into a four-way crossroad. Opening the doors revealed regular cabins, enough of which to accommodate a crew of fifty. Each cabin was of medium size, with two bunker beds, a bathroom branching off the eastern wall, regardless of the cabin adjacent, and several chests where one could put their belongings.
"If any of you have anything you don't mind keeping here, feel free to stick 'em in the chests there," John announced, and turned to the volunteers. "The passengers can have this room, and the band can have the room opposite."
"John," Max said finally. "You have enough room ta fit a cruiser crew. Isn't there anyone else on this ship besides us? I mean, whose maintaining the ship?"
"Oh, I have other crewmen on the ship," said John. "In fact... Oh bollocks!" John would scold to himself. "All that traversin', I forgot the engine room! Of course, it's not the sort of room fit for tourists, but err..." He would fall silent for a moment before finally deciding. "Alright, drop your belongings in the chests there, I'll take you to the engine. Just to warn you, most of this weirdness is being caused by the engine, so it might get... wyrd."
"Wyrd?" questioned Fancy.
"Oh you know, more than just normally weird," John explained. "If you could follow me, everyone."

Vragi gave an impressed nod as Skitters explained her speaking device. Having never seen a raccoon before, he thought the apparent duchess was some sort of weasel or badger, but seeing her reaction to having her species mistaken decided to keep his mouth shut. After the raccoon and Mr. Grimms had both introduced themselves, he followed the others through the ship.

Between gawping like a fish at the construction of the ship and the peculiar shortcuts they took while traversing it, he thought he should make conversation.

“So you built that yourself? From scraps no less!” he asked the raccoon as he scurried to keep up with the group. “Never seen anything like it before. Does it use that invisible lightning magic that everyone seems to be using?”

As skilled as Vragi might be, the poor fellow didn’t quite understand the idea of electricity. It was a new concept to him, and so shortly after setting off from home he’d quickly assumed that he had stumbled on some new type of magic he’d never seen before.

Once they’d been shown the cabins, he nodded to John in appreciation, depositing his equipment save his pickaxe (‘A dwarf should never be without an axe’, he’d always say), before they were ushered toward the engine room.

Skitters swelled a bit with pride when commented on her handiwork, eyes lighting up. "Uh-huh!" her voice squeaks, almost child-like in its delivery. "I converted it to use self-restoring power cells! So uh, it is like advanced lightning magic... contained in small cylinders!" She seemed to grin under her handkerchief mask.

As they were given the cabin tour, both Grimms and Skitter took note of the nature of the space within the vessel, noting how time and space seem not only expanded but... folded? It was clear that there was no underestimation on how space in here was warped! The thought it could get weirder gave Skitters some pause, her eyes darting over to John.

"Wouldn't this stuff be psycho-reactive?" she asks, with a look of wonder swelling in her eyes. "I wanna see!"

"Hah!" Grimms laughed. "She sounds a bit like my daughter! But yes, don't worry, weird is part of the business, so please, lead the way. You know, before the little one explodes from anticipation."

Skitters would huff from being called a little one.

Before long, after taking several shortcuts, the group will be escorted to the engine room. As they progressed, from about fifty yards from the engine, their surroundings became increasingly peculiar; The walls seemed to shift and shimmer, like stage curtains, with the doors swaying to a different rhythm; faint, otherworldly sounds could begin to be heard, like faint, cosmic bells that had been struck a while ago, and their vibrations were now bouncing off the shifting surfaces of space-time; near-transparent shapes curled in the air, smoky and vague, but with the odd impression of life hinted from their movements. Among all this, John would pass by, skimming past the shapes as if completely accustomed to their existence. The Chosen Few, however, were less so. What attracted their wary attention the most were the walls. And the doors. They knew, from years of traversing the unreal realms of the Imagiverse, that reality was thinning in the presence of Innovatium.
There were no doors to the engine room, only a doorway, even if it was in the danger of melting from intense vibration. It would be assumed that, with the disconcerting effects of Innovatium, the engine didn't need much more security.
The first thing to note was the engine itself. It was a gigantic, brass sphere set into the back of the room, pipes riddled on it's surface, coiling towards the walls like snakes (and even undulated in the same fashion). In the middle of the sphere, a fast-locked porthole window allowed view of the contents, an ethereal swirl of multiple colours, the main colour being a deep-sea blue, that gave out the most peculiar light, in that the technicoloured shafts curled away and mingled in the air, like ghostly serpents.
The second thing was everything else. All five senses were being given a buffet of sensations, except that the dishes had been mixed up, so that the group could smell greenish-purple, hear the taste of tin, see the sound of beating stars, and so on. The walls seemed only slightly more solid than the ghostly shafts, providing a view that forced the others to avert their gaze.
All this, however, didn't seem to affect John, who simply called out, "8-Bit? Come out, I've brought some visitors for ya!"
Somewhere, from the depths of the engine's machinery, slowly crawled out a shape. It was perhaps six foot tall and vaguely humanoid, though this first impression was lessened somewhat from the other details, like the two glowing orbs in place of it's eyes, set in a spherical metal head. As it got closer, the others could make out finer details, such as exhaust pipes extruding from the back of its ribcage, and wires. It wore suspenders and a buttoned-on shirt, it's pockets laden with tools that didn't otherwise fit in the construct's belt. When it finally spoke, it was in a peculiar series of beeps, nearly inaudible of the shifting humming of the engine, ".... . .-.. .-.. --- / .-- --- .-. .-.. -..?"
"Yes, it's me, 8-Bit," replied John. "We've got a few volunteers in, so we'll be departing shortly. How's the engine?"
The machine would shrug. ". -. --. .. -. . / -. --- -- .. -. .- .-.. .-.-.- / ... -.-. .... . -.. ..- .-.. . -.. / -- . -. - .- .-.. / .-. . --. ..- .-.. .- - .. --- -. / .--. .-. --- - --- -.-. --- .-.. / .. -. / - . -. / -- .. -. ..- - . ... .-.-.-"
"Capital." John would pause for a moment before turning to the group. "Oh yes. Lady and gentlemen, this is 8-Bit, our head engine-er, hah. His job is to make sure the engine is running smoothly and that it doesn't implode during our voyage. Any other questions you want to ask me or 8-Bit before we head off?"

“Haha! Brilliant.” Vragi chuckled in reply to Skitters as they continued toward the engine room. He seemed increasingly excited as the ship began to behave in strange ways, as he knew they must be getting nearer. The hair of his beard and on (well around the edge of) his head seemed to stand on end. Finally he took a deep breath as they entered into the actual room.

The dwarf was ecstatic at the sight of it, and couldn’t help but laugh. However it wasn’t long before the bewilderment seeping through his mind took hold. Vragi had to remove his helmet to scratch at his head. This was an old habit of his that showed not just curiosity but also fear. The other people on the ship might not recognize this, but they could see it in his eyes nonetheless. The childlike grin had vanished from his face and his brow was furrowed.

Vragi had so many questions that if he tried to ask them all he’d spend the entire voyage in the engine room instead of actually helping, so he restrained himself and made ready to head back with the others.

Grimms stood quietly as they were introduced to a strange mechanical being. He rubbed his chin, observing the area as best he could, apparent that nausea wasn't one thing he was susceptible to. Skitters on the other hand, well, she wasn't fairing near as well, as she swayed left and right on her tiny feet, feeling a bit motion sick from it all.

After hearing this being speaj, named 8-bit by John, the giant finally let out a guffaw. Raising his hand he pecked on the nearest wall with his index finger, making a metallic clank each time, pecking a bit heavier at times to give a longer sound. "-- --- .-. ... . / -.-. --- -.. . ..--.. / .... --- .-- / -. --- ... - .- .-.. --. .. -.-. -.-.--"

Skitters centered herself some, propping herself against a wall, only to find it feeling wobbly as everything else. "This body is so... ugh... feeble perception... constitution... making me look like a bleedin' lightweight," she mutters. She then looked around to everyone. "So um, this level of exposure, it is safe, right?"

8-Bit appeared to understand the message that Grimms had tapped onto the wall, responding in a longer series of beeps.
After a minute of the automaton speaking, John would translate. "8-Bit's one of those customised mechanic droids dotted around Old Albion. I suppose his creator wanted a helper who wouldn't natter at him during work-hours, so he built 8-Bit to only speak in morse code. Of course, he soon realised that he couldn't speak morse code himself, so he sold him to the Teslatorium's staff, where he was transferred to my supervision."
"How come you can understand what he's saying, then?" retorted Max. "I can't tell which sound's a dot or a dash from the speed he's talkin'."
"We've had several wars down in this cavern that is our world," John returned. "When your only means of communicating with distant soldiers is encrypted in beeps, you soon pick up the lingo." He would turn to Skitters, who was having considerable difficulty coping with Innovatium radiation. "I find it best to remember that nothing that you are currently seeing is real," John would advise, while Jack was leaning on the wall behind them, throwing up whatever Toons ate. "It may seem that the large amounts of Innovatium is distorting the physical dimensions of this room, but it's entirely in your mind."
"What about the ship?" asked Adam. "Are you saying those shortcut doors were a figment of our imagination?"
"Technically, yes," said John, a little uncertainly. "Innovatium responds strongly to one's imagination or thoughts, as well as distorts reality in order to accommodate those fantasies. Granted, this has side-effects, such as what you are currently experiencing, but it has its uses, apart from the, er, folds in space-time. I've heard there are artists and writers in Old Albion who use small amounts of Innovatium as psychedelics, likely to string whatever inspiration they can out of their physical hallucinations, even if it leaves them uncertain on what is and what... isn't.
"So no questions?" He would finish, looking to the newcomers.
"Why'th there a lady in the engine?"
As one body, the band's gaze dart to the Innovatium engine. It showed no signs of inhabiting a woman inside- wait, hold on, what's that in there? Is it... It sort of looks like...
Their eyes begin to water. The images within the window kept changing, but every so often there's a glimpse, not explicitly feminine, but somehow suggesting the idea. They would soon tear their eyes away from the engine; you can get a migraine in this room. John was the last person to avert his gaze, strangely attracted to whatever was inhabiting the power-source of the ship. Awkwardly, they would make their way outside, on their way to the X-junction of the ship.

The dwarf rubbed his head, which was beginning to schedule. Despite his enthusiasm, the effects of the radiation were beginning to take their toll.

“Now I’m feeling dizzy too.” He responded to Skitters, “Well, I imagine we’ll be putting ourselves in rather a lot of danger either way.”

As John offered his explanation, Vragi found it quite fascinating to think that all of these effects they were experiencing were entirely within their own minds, if a little confusing. It all seemed perfectly real to him, and the weirdness did nothing to change that.

Although you didn’t actually say exactly whether it was safe thought the dwarf, but he kept this to himself. It was more exciting, not knowing for sure. He looked ever so slightly maniacal as he grinned on the way out.

"You... you say what is and is not real, but manifestations of psychokinetic phenomena are as good as real within this space, best not to underestimate them," Skitters would say as she regained her footing... somewhat. She would cast another glance at the engine before following the others. Oddly this time she spoke, it lacked the funny accent altogether, it was clear, not even an electronic crackle, but actually eloquent. It came to her own surprise, now that she was far enough away to really process things clearly. She'd rub her chin with one of her paws. "Cor!"

The giant looks amused, if such emotions could be read from his eyes alone. He then cast an odd stare at those suffering from nausea from the Innovatium. He was feeling perfectly fine, as much as normal in any case. He followed along quietly, puffing out some small plumes of steam from his mask. "But it is a form of radiation... I suppose for one as I, it makes sense to not feel its effects so readily... but who is the most receptive is another matter altogether."

Jonathan would lead the group through a similarly winding route as the one to the engine, going through doorways that weren't in any way immaterial - strange as they were - and eventually reaching the cabins. When he next spoke, it was in the same tone as when he was explaining Innovatium's effects; the group would suspect that he was making up the explanation as he went along.
"Oh, I didn't mean that what you're seeing isn't..." John would hesitate, having realised he had talked himself into a corner. He would start again. "If you think about it, the Imagiverse isn't a particularly real world, if you could excuse the existential crisis of that statement. It has always been subject to change from powerful minds; just look at the Creators. It's just that Innovatium sort of... gives you the partial ability of the Creators, allowing you to achieve accomplishments deemed impossible by mundane science." Having found some easy ground, he'd continue more confidently, "That's part of Skeletorian technology, in fact! We're able to make machines that can produce foodstuffs out of nothing, like the Cornucopia in the Cafetorium; We've built airships that could travel the globe sixty times; we've even made musical robots that can generate a tune you can really hum. Of course, I don't believe that's the full extent of Innovatium; even after over a hundred years in studying it, we've only just scratched the surface of what is capable with it."
A moment of silence amongst the Chosen Few would pass.
"... So... Is any of what we saw at the engine real?" asked Adam.
"I think it's safe to say," John replied a touch sharply, "that the answer would be yes and no."
"Is it dangerous?" interrogated Max, asking the question John was attempting to wriggle away from.
"Potentially. When reality is being put through the wringer, all sorts of things can happen, not just the good things. There might be an invasion of things from the Dungeon Dimensions, but I've designed the engine to slim those chances to as close to null as possible. We'll just have to carry on and pray if needs be.
"Anyways, I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to start up the engines and begin our voyage. Make yourselves comfy; I've positioned the two groups so that your cabin is opposite the other, so if you want to cross to the other and mingle, feel free, although Max might object."
"Hey, I like talkin' as much as anyone else," objected Max, "As long as it isn't while I'm sleepin'."
"Right. Cheerio, then," John would make his way down to the helm as he called out. "I'll let you know through the gramo-com when we're about to take off!" He'd then take a door to his left, only to immediately come out a door further away, if anyone can see far enough.
"I've seen the gramo-com," Adam said absentmindedly. "It's like those intercoms up on the surface, but with pipes and stuff. Dunno how it can travel that far, though."
"Right." Max would open the door to their cabin, similarly decadent, similarly dimensionally warped. "Might as well make ourselves comfy. I take the bed by the left-side of the window." He would then be followed by the others, who briefly fight for their beds before closing the door behind them. The others would be left alone to enter their cabin.

“Yes and no, eh?” Vragi mused, “That’s an answer I can get behind.”

The dwarf bustled along the he corridor as they made their way back. He appeared quite content with John’s explanation, even if it seemed suspicious. On the other hand, the sheer length of the corridor was taking its toll on him. He was used to scrambling in the dark dank of mines and beating the anvil for extended periods of time, but not so much running.

As they reached the cabins, he caught up, wheezing slightly and whistled at seeing the interior, before seating himself on one of the bunks (he wouldn’t be picky).

“Well, this is rather exciting!” He said with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Skitters's wobbliness had finally subsided now that she was far enough away from the "ground zero" of Innovatium radiation. It still bothered her... that it bothered her that much. It might make keeping up this charade... if it could be called that. She watched the others enter their cabins, fighting like children over who gets which bed. Look at them, fighting over simple beds. She let out a mocking snort as she turned to the cabins assigned to them and stepped in. She looked it over and then jumped the one in the furthest corner of the room, taking the covers and sheets, swirling it around herself into a makeshift structure.

"Mine!" she yelled, holding a pillow over her head, glaring at the others, before plopping it down over her head to finish her mini-fort.

Grimms just walked in and chuckled to himself. "This should prove to be very interesting," he muttered, as he seated himself in a corner of the cabin, slipping out a book from one of his large coat pockets and began to just quietly read.

Innovatium's discovery is often rumoured to have occurred at the precise time that Peter Walter I discovered Blue Matter, theorised to be the glue that holds reality together. This is interesting to note, as Innovatium is said to do the opposite; acting upon the mutability of reality to provoke hyper-fantasy, a term used to describe phenomenon that is more unreal than what is usual in the Imagiverse. Hyper-fantasy occurrences include near-physical hallucinations, the bending of physical laws and the supposed communication with a distant being, first reported by Jonathan C. Skelecoot, then recently deceased, in 1899, when an accident during the early studies of Innovatium reportedly drove him insane, running out of his laboratory and informing his co-workers, in a loud voice, that their world, along with the countless others they had yet to discover, wasn't real, that it was merely the imaginings of an omnipotent being that wasn't God. The concerned scientists called for the police, and Jonathan, who had calmed down considerably, was escorted to New Bedlam, as it was later named, where he had plenty of time to ascertain what he had seen in the explosion.
When Adam visited John in the asylum, straitjacketed despite his apparent civility, he was the first to hear John's story.

Jonathan, when he was still a young and breathing man, had the ambition of becoming a politician, as any youth who believes he has a few bright ideas on how to better govern the world would. When he died, in a rather tragic family incident involving his other brother Nicholas and every other direct relative including John and Adam, John momentarily put his political aspirations on hold - as there was a period of parliamentary confusion as the deceased statesmen awoke from their lifelong delusions - to partake in some part-time research regarding the latest scientific discovery; a bizarre substance similar to the similarly recent Blue Matter, but much more unstable in it's effects. Jonathan wasn't the only person to have been sadly influenced by this strange material, and it was likely he wasn't going to be the last.
The accident occurred on his first day. The substance in question was sealed in a brass sphere fitted with a window - a container that would much later act as the prototype of commonplace Innovatium power cores - that did not entirely fulfil it's purpose to safely contain the technicoloured substance, as was evident when John peered into the window...
What followed next could not be ordered, as the sudden visions lasted the duration of a second. In that rather crowded second, John saw distant worlds that did not correlate with reasonable science, the beating minds of beings that might as well had been stars in humanoid form, and the terrifying revelation about his own existence, that he was merely a figment of Their imagination that could be as easy to render non-existent as a child's drawing against a pencil eraser.
In the midst of this revelation, he was almost sure there was something else, watching him from the furthest point in space, beckoning him to step off the planetary body and embrace the stars. At least, that was his first impression. Later on, he was almost certain it was a cry for help.

Vragi also giggled as the other two settled into the room. With some effort he hoisted himself onto his bed, perching on the edge of the mattress.

He looked around the room, nodding contentedly. He also seemed interested in the structure the raccoon had built for herself.

“Hmm…” he appeared deep in thought, as if posing himself some question. Abruptly he began to lift up the covers and sheets, inspecting them and measuring them in his head, before jumping down and addling over to the chest, taking some of his equipment and using it to make a tent-like structure. Evidently the question he’d had in mind was how impressive a fort could you make with bedsheets. He stood back and looked at his makeshift creation, with a quizzical expression.

He looked between the two structures, before saying, "I have more work to do." He then got to inspecting his fort, checking for ways to improve it.

"Heh, you take this stuff seriously, don't you?" Skitters said, in response to Vragi.

"So, as a connoisseur of knowledge, curiosity overtakes me," Grimms finally said, lowering his book to glance over the top of it. "How does a being such as yourself end up inside common vermin?" There was a moment of silence, followed by rustling in the bedding fort.

"Ay? And how does a git like you end up in a tin can?" Skitters responded, sounding a bit agitated.

"Touché, but I meant no disrespect," he responded, before he returned to his book.

"Yeah, well... I... ugh... if you really must know, I'm from the edge, or rather, I was born in some isolated bubble in it," she finally said after some stuttering. "And I outgrew that bubble."

"That... doesn't really explain a lot, does it?" he said.

"Okay, sure, fine! But I don't know all the exact bloody details, they get foggy when your brain is put through a ringer! So yeah, anyways, Basalah? Yeah, that is my real name, Lady Basalah I was. My people were mostly a bunch of timid little mice... not literally, mind you, but bright lights and loud noises causes them to scatter. I mean, sure, we lived in a land with only twilight and night, by your terms, but still... a little light ain't gonna kill ya! So yeah, I felt my growth was being bloody stifled! So maybe, I got a bit overly ambitious, sure! But I'm a bloody genius! I can't be satisfied with accepting things as-is. And I got treated as a deviant, insane! I mean, I was also taller than the average git, get on my bloody level! Was..." she paused there, to try to gather her thoughts. "So I came up with a theory, one they really didn't like. I devised a way to pierce the veil and bridge into a hypothetical other world, using a kind of primordial energy I had concentrated by siphoning off some spacial anomalies at the world's borders."

"Sounds eerily familiar, and what device did you use to pierce the veil?" he asked.

"Wait... device? No no, I drank it."

"You... drank it?" Grimms responded. "I'm lifting a brow, by the way."

"Yeah... ehhhh..." she answered, her voice cracking a bit. "So, maybe not my brightest moment in retrospect, but everyone was wanting to have me committed and I was gettin' flustered and may have gotten a little full of myself. I mean... I am amazing! But... well, I had a split second of regret, before my everything was being being stretched across several planes like taffy, through an inconceivable multiverse... then nothing. Don't know how long it had been, but the next time I'm conscious, my everything ached like hell, and I awoke inside this... dinky roadkill of a shell."

"Roadkill?"

"Well, ugh, so it wasn't in the best condition when I first got into it, okay? Busted up all to hell, the animal was dead as it gets. B-but don't look at me like that, I ain't some bloody pet cemetery freak! I-I mean, I hope I'm not... that'd be utterly pear-shaped... But yeah, that is about everything, I ended up being experimented because I'm some kinda edge hybrid thing."

"I see," Grimms responds, yet his tone hinted he wasn't entirely convinced on that being the full story. "And... what are you seek-"

"W-well, enough! I answered your question, now mine!" she interrupted rather abruptly, popping up from her fort and pointing accusingly. He backs down, and rubbed his chin.

"Mine... I suppose is a bit more simple, I once looked human, a rather god-like one I might say. Strong and worshipped, I grew arrogant, thought nothing could stop me, that every obstacle I could overcome with sheer strength alone. I was almost right, but... well, a servant woman, sick of my garbage challenged me that the one thing I could never do is be humble... and I took the challenge. For the life of me, I couldn't do it, I thought too highly of myself, and I was, angry and defeated, left with the only option to admit that there are some things I wasn't good at... and shortly after we married. It was a learning experience for sure, and then we had two kids, a son and then later, a daughter. I was... happy? And yet I wasn't smashing things with my head and fists. But..." he pauses for a moment and lowers his head, placing his book in his lap. "I... should have known something was coming, glowing cracks had begun forming in my body. I told no one, especially not my beloved. And then, in my arms, that mortal shell ruptured, and the surge of raw energy from my body... and well... I suppose the one grace is there was likely no suffering involved. I tried to cry but my eyes were dry, I tried to drink it away, but the alcohol burnt away on my tongue... I couldn't even comfort my children, as I'd burn them too. This clumsy suit, a clunking wearable reactor shell, is the only way I can engage at all in the worlds, and it lacks any of the delicate qualities I once took for granted. My son turned from me, and my daughter... regressed. Perhaps out there is a means to once and for all shed this suit, and live... somewhat normally again. That and adventure... I've missed those."

"Geez, make me look like a selfish git, why dontcha? S-soo, you want your body back, huh?

"Essentially, yes, I suppose it is also closure, as well, with it. But I assume you want yours back too, right?" he asked, but Skitters simply paused, thinking on it for a bit.

""Y-yeah! Of course! It... uh... this body is total bollocks! W-well... I'm not sure, really... I mean, there's no way I can make this work as-is right? A lady as I, reduced to the body of a pathetic and graceless vermin! How am I to receive any envy like this? Pah!"

"Hah, you're a bit vain, aren't you?" he laughs, causing her to huff and plop back into hiding in her fort. Grimms then turns to Vragi. "And, where are my manners? We cannot forget you, friend, what is your story?"

Ever since that fateful incident, John had been gripped with a common infliction for those who had taken a brief glimpse of what they do not fully understand. When he was released from New Bedlam - on the grounds that, despite his initial outburst, he was evidently rational for his blood - and began a campaign which ended with the Parliament disbanded and him settled as Old Albion's first and only dictator, he had since devoted his life gathering esoteric knowledge, in a similar fashion to a magpie looting Midas' palace for shiny objects. He refocused the city's efforts from military reinforcements to scientific pursuits, which eventually provided the government (John) with mechanical soldiers superior to the Royal Army, who soon dwindled in numbers in the face of the city's gradual disregards for tradition and decent humanity. John would eventually develop his own personal guard, the Peacemakers, dreaded law-enforcing automatons only deployed in the most serious cases of unrest, but mainly to protect the Governor with threats of having them let loose on anyone who so much as lays a finger on him. Always fitted with technology unavailable anywhere else in the city, the Peacemakers became subject to rumour of impenetrable armour and inhumane weaponry, which did the rest of the work of keeping the masses subordinate to their leader.
However, even after over a hundred years of developing his own library of strange or even dangerous knowledge, John's thirst for more hasn't satiated. This particular thirst was similar to an addiction to nicotine, or to trying to hydrate oneself with dry water; it is an endless cycle of drinking, then feeling unsatisfied. It is widely agreed that it was this endless thirst for knowledge that crumbled the rest of John's mind, replacing it with the cold, calculating machine it is now; consistently guzzling more information, considering morality only as a point of reference, and regularly going cuckoo.

Vragi shrugged in agreement at Skitters' remark, before turning his attention back to his mini project. He was actually quite childish despite his apparent age.

He’d just begun scribbling down notes on a scrap of parchment when he found himself listening to his colleagues' histories, and with great interest. Tucking his writing equipment beneath the pillow he was sat on, he listened intently from inside what appeared to be a one-person bell tent.

Surprise flashed briefly across his face as he was asked his own story. He shifted a little. Usually being the one asking questions, he was unused to answering them.

“Well,” he began, “I felt stifled back home too, always wanted to see what was out there. We were quite isolated, see.” He took out the axe he had kept with him and pointed out the symbols etched into the blade.

“We use these magic runes to enchant and enhance the stuff we forge. Only a few years ago, longstanding contact was finally made with other worlds and we were trading in all kinds of strange things and materials we’d never laid eyes on. Anyway, naturally first thing we did was mess about with them. We started small, just put a simple resilience enchantment on a dagger, typical job. But instead it starts igniting everything it hits! We thought we might've botched the thing up so we did it again and the same thing happened. We soon found that our runes had completely different effects depending on what world the materials were from. It was like finding out there’s a whole bunch more alphabets in your language. And I had a good excuse to get out and explore other worlds. I’m searching for materials from as many different places as possible so we can discover how they react to runes. Just imagine what we might find out there!”

"What indeed, the possibilities are quite literally countless," Grimms comments with a short chortle. "Been ages since I've been at the edge of my seat with anticipation. It would appear we all share that in common, escaping our cooped up lives."

"Countless possibilities, discoveries, treasures, power, it is a bit exhilarating," she muttered, curling up with her pillow in a ball. "But in the end, I want to not be looked down on, called a bloody rodent. Or something like that, always felt like something in me was empty."

"Well, we're all trying to fill a void. Luck to us that we all find what we've been missing!"

A metallic, high-pitched whine would interrupt the volunteers. Upon closer inspection, they would discover that, unbeknownst to their initial inspection of the room - strangely enough - there was a strange, segmented funnel jutting out from the top of a wall, that was shuddering as the disembodied voice of Jonathan echoed from it.
"Helloooo, passengers! I've finally made it to the helm, and will be starting up the engine. During this, you might experience a bit of confusion as the Innovatium starts to pump through to the main thrusters and be ignited, theoretically resulting in a fair amount of residual radiation. But not to worry; this should not do you any harm. Starting the engine... Now!"
The cabin would begin to shudder, the ceiling lamp above waving erratically. A distant hum, once hidden in the background, was beginning to raise in volume and intensity, somewhere in the supposed direction of the Innovatium Engine. Outside the window, engineers and apprentices were backing away from the vessel, cheering and waving miniature flags. Somewhere in the distance, a band began to play a boisterous tune, likely the undead country's anthem, as the crowd would soon begin to sing along, words and phrases such as "God save the..." "Long to reign over us..." and so on drifting into the air as the hum indoors took a disconcerting tone.
"There we are," piped John from the gramophonic speaker. "Now, let the S.S Victoria begin its maiden voyage to the great beyond!"
The shuddering would make an abrupt stop as the skeletal crowd, who were now screaming in anticipation, began to drop from the window's view. Somewhere ahead of the ship, muffled by the hull and the humming, the passengers would hear the sound of something large and metallic begin to move, punctuated with occasional, thunderous clangs; discerning from how the noises seem to be emanating from just above the vessel, the Teslatorium must be opening up by quite a bit to allow the S.S Victoria to leave. After about 20 seconds, the ship would finally move forward, oddly flowing in its acceleration, like an iceberg with propellers in the back.
Soon, the vessel had left the hangar, the view replaced by an admittedly stunning panorama of the city below. Smokestacks towered over countless buildings, the sky being invaded by even more streams of smoke weaving into the clouds. As the ship spun, they would get a view of the sea, copper in colour and strangely silent, excusing the occasional steamer and other vague shapes along the horizon.
Eventually, John's voice would sound again. "Take a good look at the city. For over a hundred years, we've stuck to the machinations of the steam engine, hoping to perfect its use on every aspect of our technology. Now, with vast experience with Innovatium under our belt, we have achieved what was considered impossible back in the reign of our deceased majesty. The word has been spread, the town criers have brought the news, and millions of eyes are watching us at this very moment, most likely to see if I blow the damn thing up on the first jump, the bastards. Ahem, anyway, fasten yourselves on something, everyone! To the Edge!"
The background hum was now raising into a whine. Those who are on the ship will feel the uneasy sensation of moving at a fast speed while remaining in place, until the second part became irrelevant; S.S Victoria would achieve the unlikely of reaching the speed of light from a standing start.