Arcania

Doc was reviewing his notes on the current state of the train when Ms. Vrahl came out and called to get his attention. Good, with the train coming in at speed, there could be little time wasted on securing it against any unwanted stowaways, or unwelcome boarding parties for that matter. He nodded to the woman briefly before beginning, not intending to waste her time anymore than he had to. She most likely had far more important things to do than listen to him inform her about items she may or may not already know about.

"Ah, Ms. Vrahl. I won't waste your time any more than I have to already. Morning inspection showed several damaged vents, as well as some passengers complaining about loose and/or unsecured windows due to damaged locking mechanisms. I suspect it is merely routine wear and tear, but those could constitute as breaching points for unwelcome guests. I won't presume to tell you how to do your job, however, so if its at all reasonable to work into your schedule, I would appreciate those items being taken care of sometime prior to departure from Clear Blue. Obviously, if you need anything from me, I will be available for such necessities. And if you can't find me, Father Kain might also be able to point you in the right direction. Either to find me, or whatever you might need."

In all reality, Doc did not hold any formal authority over most of the crew. Beyond security, and medical, no one was obliged to really listen to a word the man said. One more reason he was usually polite, aiming for a calm and respectful tone for most members on board the Rooster, crew or otherwise. He did say most, since no one was perfect, but he did try. Beyond that, if Ms. Vrahl had no other questions or comments on his own request of her, he would begin his rounds as the train pulled into Clear Blue, ensuring that nothing suspicious was loaded on, or off, the train without inspection. No doubt Father Kain was doing the same, so it freed Doc up for more focused work, including checking on noted security weaknesses to see if they had either been fixed or, at the very least, patched up to prevent unwelcome circumstances from occurring. Or at least making them more difficult.

Sandra waited in Clear blue, currently sitting at a small table in the back room of a tavern. The waiting was painfully dull but still, orders are orders. As she made her way to her living quarters she recalled the mission The Reaper had assigned her prior to her delivery to Clear Blue..

“Captain you requested my presence.” Sandra called before entering the Captain’s room. She received no answer as she stepped into the dark space. A single, low burning candle sat atop the desk on the far side. The only noise was the click of the door falling shut behind her. Then, the sound of scraping metal. Sandra acted on reflex, drawing her cutlass and throwing it up in front of her just quick enough to block the incoming swing. As steel clashed with steel sparks briefly illuminated Alex’s face. The clanging of swords could be heard even outside the captains room as they sparred in the darkness.

“I have a task for you Sandra.” He said while directing a series of wide sweeps at her, all of which she swiftly deflected.
“Of course Sir.”
“The Rooster, our next target is moving towards Clear blue. It is different from trains we have raided in the past and as such requires even more precision than normal.” One of his swings slipped through her guard, leaving a small cut in the center of her cheek.
“What would you have of me Captain?” She pressed her own attack, forcing him to give way or lose footing.
“Aboard this ship is a man that our business associate Bugsy has an interest in. Our task is to abduct him.” Alex gave footing but his guard remained impassible to her.
“What do we get from the deal? If you do not mind my asking Sir.” She ducked low and tried to sweep him but he nimble hopped over the blade and kicked her lightly in the gut forcing her back again.
“Whatever we want from the train itself. You’re objective will be to infiltrate The Rooster and locate our target before our attack. As well as assess its cargo and crew’s defensive capabilities.” The mission was not of her normal kind, Sandra almost exclusively served as a bodyguard to Alex. For her Captain to entrust her with such a task filled her with pride. She tilted her blade up, catching his and using one gloved hand managed to lock the blades together.
“I am you’re weapon.” She answered.

Now as she sipped from a small cup of ale, one of her hands lightly caressed the sword on her hip while the other traced the small cut on her cheek that had just started healing.

Miandra swallowed a small sigh deep inside of her as The Doc added on her list of things to do. She had no complaints regarding the man himself. He hit most of the points she enjoyed in a colleague. And, as long as he did not get it into his head to go through her stuff, she had no problem with his sense of security. She had been longing after their stop at Clear Blue for several reasons. One of them carefully hidden behind some pillows, in a small gap behind the wood frame of her built-into-the-wall-bed.
48 hours of The Rooster would be just enough to try it out...
She realized that her thoughts had drifted a little too much, and she focused back on The Doc again, throwing something a little sharp in the green hint of her eyes.
"Hey Doc, regarding the vents. No problem. I'll have my hands on that as soon as Mahrone shuts of the air from the cargo hall. Otherwise we might get a lot of sparks paying their respects both here and there. Wouldn't like to get any fire-dances going... "
- She gave a short sight and rubbed her hand over the forming scabs on her chin.
"...And the windows will be a continuous problem. The lower part of the framing is all wrong. It..."
-She waved her hand a little and a small touch of unrest wandered over he face.
"...it moves too much. Its like its not connected enough in the the rest of its frames juncture. It does not really matter whether I fix the locking sprints back in place or not, they will be moved out of their screw holes right away."
She gave a small grin, feeling a bit uneasy and yet rowdy. The Rooster was her home. Her place in the world. She did not want it to be threatened. Like if every dent in the trains hull was a cut in her own skin... No. She liked the sturdiness of the train. And she wanted it to stay that way.
"We'd better barr the windows if a breach is your concern, Doc. Because those locks ain't worth much till we get the right frame to screw them into. I have added it to my list of items for the stop here in the Blue. But I'm not sure the captain will take that before new joints for the water pumps."
-She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Perhaps a word from you could get things moving a bit faster with those frames? Some of the staff has been complaining about the clapping at night. My guess is that we will have to replace a few here and there. Bad renovation job..."
-She frowned.
"...Wouldn't like to get any more prattle from That Mage!"

---

It was a simple life Terrance Lesner lived aboard the Rooster, ever since snagging a position as staff a short while ago. The days had been somewhat peaceful if you compared them to those days of not knowing where your next meal came from, and being terrified of the unseen blade across your throat while you slept, simply because you owned a loaf of bread. Now, all he had to truly worry about was whether or not the guests aboard the Rooster were making a mess, or if any authorities who might recognize him were snooping about, though that was unlikely given his efforts to cover up his tracks.

Oh, and there was also this damned Arm.

How awesome would it be if he could scratch the itches under it, or if it wasn't insanely miserable to go around in the cold or heat. When he was younger, he perhaps might have thought it cool to have a metallic arm with which to punch people to death, but that was before he realized the hassle you have to undergo daily to even keep the thing from getting infected. People would also question him if he did not keep it hidden, so wearing his red coat had become signature of him for a while now. The Arm was probably the worst thing he never asked for, on top of the poverty that plagued his early life, though nowadays he was faring a lot better.

Terrance snapped back to reality and then sighed to himself. He needed to get work done so he could get paid. There was no incentive to think about things he was unable to change. In fact, he decided to tell himself that if he worked harder then he would eventually earn even more than he was now. This would be great if it turned out to be true, considering people had just finished breakfast and weren't too clean about it, so dishes and trash were in abundance anywhere a guest had recently been. He made his objective to retrieve any dishes that were dirtied by guests, and clean them to the point where one could safely eat off them as quickly as possible. Achieving this, he then dealt with the floor of the train, picking up any trash and throwing it in a bin with accuracy only one who had spent the past few months straight doing so could accomplish. He worked with the determination of a proud warrior, and soon enough, the areas he had been managing were spotless and beautiful. Some could even say the train was a bit more presentable than it was before, and in regards to dishes and the floor, perhaps they were correct.

He was moving up in the world, wasn't he? Though it was not that great of a leap, considering he just moved from being a thief to cleaning a train. Oh well.

Doc listened to Ms. Vrahl as she spoke about the ease of dealing with the vents. One less burden on his shoulders, security wise then, as he made small notes into his journal as she spoke. It was equal parts tracking addressed problems, complications in others, and possible solutions. The other part was a further documentation of each person on board the Rooster, expanding on Ms. Vrahl's entry in this case. Each crew member on board the Rooster had an entry, entailing various ailments and injuries each might have sustained over the years he had been the medical professional on board the Rooster, the cure and any necessary follow up. He also had tried his hand at analyzing people in his footnotes, based on his observations on each person. Everyone from the Captain to the humblest cook or janitor had entries, some more in depth than others. But Doc looked at Ms. Vrahl as she finished her brief with a comment towards their ever so beloved mage.

"Believe me Ms. Vrahl, Mr. Caeronvar has not made himself many friends. But his powers are necessary, even if his pride is not. Or he would have no doubt been removed already. I cannot promise anything with the windows, last time I mentioned them, the Captain effectively told me it was not a top priority. I can bring it up next time he asks about issues with the train, but I cannot promise any progress. I appreciate any work you can do, jury rigged or otherwise. And boarding up some of the windows in places not used for passengers might be wise. It is not a perfect solution, but it could be considered a stop gap measure until more permanent means to fix them might be enacted. And, frankly, leave Mr. Caeronvar's window for last to be replaced, should it suit you. If he has any further complaints about the window, feel free to direct him to me. I will explain, in detail, why his window clattering holds a low priority in the list of problems that need to be addressed for the Rooster."

Doc inclined his head towards Ms. Vrahl in a bid farewell. She was smart, and would probably have the issues she could fix figured out in no time flat. Good hands were so hard to come by, so the fact the Rooster was such a condensed number of them was an oddity indeed. Walking down to help deal with the passengers, on going and off going, he checked in on random locations and places, spot checking for problems. One such place happened to have him stumble upon Mr. Lesner, a rather new addition to the crew with an interesting choice in attire. He had little documented information on him yet, but that did not stop the older man from being polite towards the young man. Especially if he was handling dishes, which could be a possible sanitary problem if not done properly.

"Good morning, Mr. Lesner, does the day find you well enough? Any problems you might have noticed, or are suffering from, that I might be able to address?"

---

"Good morning, Mr. Lesner, does the day find you well enough? Any problems you might have noticed, or are suffering from, that I might be able to address?"

The voice that tore his attention from the sink and plates he had within it was the familiar voice of the train's one and only, Doc. His limited experience with the man meant that Terrance could not exactly say he knew what the guy was thinking, but generally he saw the Doc as a kind, calm man who lived by that old "treat people as you wish to be treated" motto. That was good considering that he'd at least heard chatter about the Doc getting serious about something, and it did not seem like something Terrance wished to witness, if possible. Terrance was, after all, doing his best to avoid bring any attention on himself so as to give the authorities as little as possible to work with.

"Oh, hello there, Doc." Terrance replied with a warm smile as he continued to scrub the dishes in his hands. "I have not seen anything of note. But I might be inflicted with despair at the sight of all these dishes. Seems people want to eat quite a bit before the next stop or something like that, I would guess." giving himself a small chuckle and changing the now-cleaned dishes out for dirty ones, he continued. "And how have you been? You and some others had a meeting earlier, right? Or was that simply a codeword for breakfast?"

William cracked his neck, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, extended his arms before him in a flourish to loosen his sleeves, wriggles his toes as far as his shoes let him, clicked his tongue, scratched his chest and yawned. He never failed to appreciate the absolute absurdity of how blisteringly fast the giant piece of metal and gumshoe threw itself through the air. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to treat the absolute fatality of a crash with any sense of urgency. He pulled the cigarette back out of his mouth and sighed an exhale of thick, gray smoke. He turned it over, rotating his hand about the wrist, trying to remember who he had bought it from in the Royal City. Next time we're there, I'm getting a lifetime supply. They just don't roll it like this in the rest of Arcania. It was one of few vices Elisabeth let him get away with, other than the occasional drink and gambling. Speaking of which, I bet I can get some absinthe and grain alcohol in town. Those workers know how to drink themselves to sleep.
William, finally, turned his attention to the Rooster. Ocean extended to the horizon, met without a cloud, featureless except the slight bump that was Clear Blue. Overland travel was easy on the trains-so easy, in fact, that the mage might only be needed minutes before coming to station anywhere with little traffic-but open air or water was dangerous business; a failure of any kind was far more likely to result in the death of everyone on board. Surveying, laying tracks, and the actual propulsion was also more difficult, but less journeys ended to them than sky pirates, who had the same watery grave fears the trains did. I'd like to see someone attack the Rooster... William thought to himself as he settled in. Ms. Eli Sabeth would give them what-for. And I'd take eight with the Lemmit.

It is very difficult for an arcanist to describe exactly how controlling a train feels. The only simile that comes close is that it's much like how one might expect a snake to feel (albeit a very long snake that chooses which laws of physics to follow). But that isn't entirely accurate, nor does it encompass all of the discomfort with suddenly being a creature that only see what is in front of it and only half controls its direction and speed. There were other issues, like the discomfort of having one's sense of self expand to encompass a device that had no sense of smell, touch, taste, or hearing, while they still did; the gentle brush of someone passing William in the helm, early in his career, was indistinguishable from the train scraping a mountain. That was a large part of his insistence on space and silence inside the cabin (other than the voxophone and Edith Piaf's masterpiece, respectively). He took a final drag on his cigarette, then shook it out and stuck it in his pocket to be disposed of later before finally harnessing the eldritch energies of train control. The staff and passengers might feel the slightest shift in movement up before the train increased its forward speed.

Kovas nodded. "Yes, yes. Good." He nodded to one of the deckhands, then pushed off the rail. He turned to William, whose eyes were half-lidded and mouth twitched uncomfortably. He waved a puff of smoke out of existence, then stepped around the self-proclaimed 'arcanist' on his way back to the door.
The stop in Clear Blue was scheduled to be particularly short. A train that isn't moving isn't making money, and the ocean paradise catered more to the one percent than a captain needing coal or tools. At the least whatever services were relevant to the Rooster would be overpriced, an unfortunate circumstance that dictated an overexpenditure of the Rooster's good to guarantee a smooth ride back to Eisridge, where real manufacturers operated.
The captain was pondering this when he came to one of the newer editions to his crew and the doctor. "Mornin'." He offered a subtle nod of his head. "Kitchen is all in order?"

Alexander marched through the depths of his airship, he was on the lowest floor. His footsteps echoed off thew walls of the long empty corridor. The lights in this particular part of the ship had a habit of constantly flickering on and off, as if electricity was being constantly drained from them. At the end of the corridor sat a large bulkhead that Alex quickly approached. To the side of the bulk head was a series of levers which Alex promptly pulled in a combination known to very few on board The Nightfall.

James, a grizzled and somewhat unbalanced individual stood over a large metal block, his metal arm expunging a massive amount of electricity from the palm of its hand while his right held a large hammer and occasionally pounded into the block with unknown intent.
“James.” The engineer stopped his work and turned to the voice.
“Captain! What can I do for ya?!” He asked, beaming with enthusiasm while rummaging through a box of gizmos. He started throwing out some small but odd trinkets.
“Need a Shockpod? Soundblaster? Maybe an Organ Bomb? We have a lot of extra Organ bombs..” He pulled out a grenade looking sphere filled with red liquid and an odd meat like substance.

Alex took a step back from the engineer, more in caution than anything else. Being around James when he was throwing random objects was not the greatest idea when aboard.
“No, I came to check the progress of the Buster.” James’s eyes lit up at the sound of his newest idea. He walked over to a large jagged shape covered by a massive brown tarp.

“Oh its a rolling Captain. Not quite ready yet...one or two bugs to work out, they just keep flying into its gears. Kindof a bother really.”

“One day James, have it ready in twenty four hours.” Alex turned and left before James had the chance to ask him to prototype anything....another bad practice.
“Aye, I will have it ready...and then some.” James chuckled to himself, the steam his arm had begun spitting out surrounded him in an eerie haze.

When Elisabeth was rebuffed, she nodded. "My offer stands," she told Miandra before she left. Elisabeth half-turned to the door William and the captain left through; she clicked her tongue in thought and, whatever she decided, left in the same direction Miandra had.

Maybe the choir boy wants his chapel cleaned, Elisabeth thought as she stalked down one of the train's many hallways. She stopped when she passed through the crew's cabin compartment; she ducked into her shared room long enough to slip a knife into one of her apron's pockets. A book lay open on the gateleg, all the corners curled or folded over from her habit of fingering pages while she struggled through William's stupid stories. If Lochinvar really wanted to impress a woman, he'd speak a language she could damn well understand.
Elisabeth habitually stuck her head into the hallway and scanned both directions before stepping out and locking the door behind her. She walked quickly through the compartment, and the next one, and so on until she reached the passengers. She offered a weak smile to the few who looked up from papers or dime novels or their various games and knickknacks as she passed, then turned her head towards the ground and moved silently through the chains of people until finally coming to a broom closet. She grabbed a horse-hair broom and a wicker bin and got to work.

--

William, eyes-closed, raised his left arm. He moved it in lazy circles, his hand rolling around his wrist, subconsciously following Edith Piaf's masterpiece. "Noooooon.... je ne rieeeen..." he mumbled to himself, off-key and out of sync with the record. No doubt the other occupants of the room either rolled their eyes or snickered, but nothing dared break his concentration. The train pitched down gently, sloping towards the water. William wished he could hear the clang of metal tracks suddenly snapping together underneath the train, or feel it shudder as it rolled along, but he was insulated by thick walls. "Ouiiii... je achete cigarette et hoooooch...." His own lyrics didn't mesh well but it was true-or would be, when they came to station and he was paid.

--

Captain Callack slouched on a warped stool, the good side of his face resting against his fist while he cleaned his new scar with a wet rag. "The Waster is twice the ship that bastard flies, and I've twice the crew. Pompous, pre-tant-chus bastard'll learn ta respect 's elders when we call Seigal's bounty."

Alicia glanced at the scrap of paper in her hand that a rather bored looking ticket vendor told her would take her wherever she wanted. It was a little hard for her to believe that small pieces of paper were all it took to travel around Arcania, especially since she had to normally go through a long and arduous process just to leave the palace. Or rather, she used to before she absconded. In fact, Alicia was fairly surprised that her father hadn't immediately sent out another manhunt for her like he always had in the past; this time it had been far too easy to...relocate herself.

Shaking the thought out of her head, she moved on towards the train station. The ticket said it wouldn't be here for a while, but it could never hurt to be safe than sorry. So far, none of the commoners walking around recognized her, nor did any one seem to be searching for her. Not yet at least. Even if anyone--or anything tired to stop her, Alicia believed she was carrying enough firepower to aggressively negotiate her way through any confrontation, barring an entire army. A few particularly filthy and uncouth commoners had already attempted to take her belongings and some more from her, but after one of them lost an arm, they were more than happy to depart with their lives.

Finally arriving at the station, Alicia picked up what she learned to be called a newspaper from a stand. A portly man started raising his voice at her, but she had long learned to just throw a gold coin at people like him. It always seemed to placate most of the common rabb-- people. She sometimes picked up habits from those around her, and her father the dear King was most unhappy with it, and always lectured Alicia on the importance of the common people. What she found was a very shocking piece of news-- her father had been arrested on the charges of treason and the likes. Alicia stood there, frozen as she kept reading; the article reported that on the same night as her escape, the army and the general city guard had stormed the King's Palace and overrun the "corrupt" and "decadent" Royal Guards that protected her "self serving" father. As much as Alicia disliked some of her father's beliefs, this was too much. Yet Uncle Darius had always been there for her in her times of need, especially when she needed someone to cry to about her father's actions. Perhaps he was right.... As she kept reading, there was a final few closing remarks about a large reward for the return of the missing Princess who had mysteriously disappeared. It was important that she was returned unharmed and alive as the new acting King was very worried for his lovely niece.

Well it wasn't time for her to return to the Capital so soon, Alicia thought. There was so much to do and see, and think about with the recent arrest of her father and his supposed treasonous activity. It was a good thing that few outside of the Court knew her face, otherwise it would be extremely difficult to elude the hunt that was sure to follow. A private company with a train, now that seemed to be an excellent hiding place until she figured out what to do. Yes, it would do for now.