Welcome To Harkback Union - En Charactére

[New Luciannova]

Luciano San Tomas had kept a low profile for most of the voyage. Honestly, he was a bit peturbed that the guests and crew were serarching for clues and evidence pertaining to the murder of a baron no less. The ameteurish mess being made would make almost none of it admissible in court, the murderer would be extremely hard to convict.
However today, he and Antonia were dressed in their best and looking out over the bow toward this surreal city, "Ah, it looks like Salvador Dali could have designed this city. It truly is a jewel, and will be a great place for a fresh start--I hope."
"It's beautiful," said Antonia.
Luciano and Antonia had packed their bags and hired a porter to carry them for he and his sister, the porter, spoke to them and said, "The Captain says we'd be ready to disembark in three hours, Señor."
"Thank you," said Luciano, "just please keep the bags safe until we arrive." He handed a 50 peso note to the porter, he knew that it would technically be contraband as soon as they got off the ship, but foreign currency, he knew, was highly desirable in the City and the porter sure looked excited to have even a small amount of it. He had stuffed 100,000 pesos in his jacket's lining, hoping to keep it hidden from customs agents in the event he ever actually needed it during what may be a lengthy stay in this mysterious land. Luciano was eager to learn more, but his goal here was to protect his sister, a promise he made when they both were orphaned. Antonia appreciaed his help. She certainly would have died or befallen a miserable fate if he didn't protect her for the years he did, but she was 20, not 10, but her brother's protective instinct for her was sometimes overbearing. She waited until he fell asleep to sneak out of their stateroom many times.
Antonia's perceptions were not entirely false. To her brother, she never really grew up. He often treated her far younger than her age, He routinely affirmed that he knew just how old she was, but in his mind she would always be his kid sister that he was sworn to protect.
Antonia was hoping she'd have more time away from her brother. She thought if she could find a woman for him it might help, or if he was able to get a good job there it also could help. He had adequate legal training and she was hoping the courts--however they were set up--might have some use for him. If he had a job and a woman, maybe he would let her grow up.
Luciano knew he needed to let her grow up, but really, he had nobody left, just his sister and him against what seemed to be the entire world since he was 9 and she was 5. This made them both very close despite Antonia's growing irritation.
Luciano signalled to a waiter, and said, "Amigo, one more drink before we land, I'll have a Cuba Libre, and bring a Coke for the girl."
"Scratch the Coke, please, I'll have a Screwdriver," said Antonia, "You know I'm not a kid anymore, Luciano."
"I know....but you're all I have," said Luciano.

[Harkback Union]

Vasily Obraztsov
Duwall International Zeeport

As he stepped off the ship, Vas looked around the place, rubbing his sinewy hands together for a bit of warmth. So this was it. Hark-bak. The unknown country.

In some ways, it reminded him of home. It was cold - probably near freezing. Dozens of cranes hung over the harbor, loading cargo here and there. The heavy industrial equipment was no stranger to him, nor were the blocklike red warehouses. And it was dim, almost reminiscent of twilight in the Vasovian winter - though the light pollution that spewed from the city kept things lit well enough.

Ah, yes. The part that wasn't familiar. He'd spotted the City on the way in, and had almost struggled to take it in altogether. A thousand spires and buildings, stacked atop one another at haphazard and wild manners. A thousand chimneys, a thousand wires, a thousand towers. Words almost failed to describe this place. It was beyond anything he had ever seen - or even imagined.

He'd never quite heard of the place at all before the voyage. But it had been one of the only destinations with departures available on the night he had reached the port - and thus, he'd purchased the ticket. Information of the outside world could be quite scarce in the Motherland, and so he had assumed that it was one of the small western countries on the south coast of the Azore. He'd figured it would be better than what he had left behind, and that was good enough.

A pretty low bar, all things considered.

He'd spent most of the journey in the third-class passenger bays, which had been more luxurious than he had expected. Decent food. A cotton mattress. A room to himself! Positively first-rate, by Vasovian standards. He had been getting used to the place - but sadly, they'd arrived.

Around him, a hundred strange men and women hustled and bustled, attempting to grab their luggage. Vas hadn't stored any of his - didn't trust the ship workers. As they said in the motherland - out of sight, out of possession. His old duffel bag had been stashed underneath the bed the whole journey, and it hung over his shoulder limply as he disembarked the ship. The liras, wrapped carefully in a food wrapper as to avoid...stains...shuffled uncomfortably in his underwear. He'd heard a rumor on board that they wouldn't allow foreign currency to enter the country.

That meant it was contraband. And that meant it was worth something. It would be much better to enter the country with more than less.

Discreetly, he pushed the tightly-bound bar of liras further his ass. He stood up more stiffly, scrunching his face up in response to the discomfort. This was humiliating, painful, and potentially dangerous - but it could certainly be worth it.

Squinting, he looked forward at the line to Customs. Reminded him of the bread lines. Long, trailing, filled with weary and impatient faces alike.

Well, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. He knew better than to try to cut. Men had been killed for such transgressions at home. Now, Hark-Bak didn't seem in such a sorry state as the People's Republik, but...better not to chance fate.

Fresh off the Ella Dorina, Vas heads to the Customs office and attempts to make it though, liras and all.

"Anything to declare?"
The officer quickly inspected Vasily's meager luggage. The watch caught his eyes
Luck: 35
He played around with it for a bit, winding it back and forth, put it to his ears and listening to its clockwork whispers.
"All clear." - He finally announced, returning to the now out-of-tune watch to Vasily, along with his documentation. Just as he was about to leave, he spoke again.- "Just... one more thing"
Luck: 1
"Glory to Vasovia!" - The officer said, while performing the appropiate salute, attracting a few surprised glances from his colleges.

Up ahead, a series of inspection stations isolated by curtains await Vasily. One of said stations is getting 90% of the traffic, with the nurse absent from her post and the barricades broken by a stampede of impatient passengers. He could skip medical inspection here and move on to Labor, or enter one of the other stations with a nurse. The queues for them are very short.

[Harkback Union]

Duwall International Zeeport
Customs
Dr. Feng Xu

The line was moving. That at least was enough for Dr. Xu to appreciate the setup of the place. Primitive technology, some of it. But these people couldn't help themselves. They were stuck in their time. It was the natural way of things. As he stood noticing the surroundings, his comm systems on his watch alerted him by silent pulse to a new message. He raised his eyebrows as his face went into a smirk. This was going to be good, because who knew he would have been here in this time?

This is what it said:

The queue is long, but not impossibly so. As he's waiting, there is an incoming message on the comms system:

Code: Select all

Good morning!

Hope everythings all right on your end Dr. Xu! It all checks out here. Green lights everywhere.

Our information about this place and time is extremely limited, but do let me know if there is anything I could do to help.

I've been told that Central Command has an important message for you. Its highly classified and will not allow its broadcast, not even through this secure, encrypted line, so I'm not sure how they're gonna get it to you.

Si Li-Young
Temporal Operations Assistant

Dr. Xu saw the name and tried to recall if he had met this individual. He didn't know too many Li-Young's, but it was possible he had bumped into this person. Temporal Operations though - that explained things. Those wiseacres in Temp Ops were always playing pranks on people. No doubt someone thought sending Dr. Xu a millenium and change into the past would be the greatest joke ever. He snorted quietly and shook his head. Being back this far in the past just gave him 1700 years or so to think of a fitting gag to pull when he got back.

But then it was his turn to go through the instantaneous dematerialization doors.

(Image)

"Papers."
Having read the message, Dr. Xu suddenly finds the line in front of him disappeared. How curious.

14
The unusually detailed passport is a dazzling sight to the customs officer. He raises the document and compares the two faces. He nods and turns pages.
"Uhm... It says here... You are..."
"Never mind, everything's in order." - He hands the documents back to Xu.

68
Xu's papers are checked thoroughly, and his calculator is tested for accuracy and speed, but all the while its the watch that attracts most of his curiosity.
"May I see your chronometer sir?"

Design - d12
10: Failure

An accidental push triggers the display mechanism on the watch, several holographic images appear.
"What is this contraption?" - He inquires.

"Customs are the same everywhere," the old scientist thought. "They're always poking, prodding, asking things and messing with devices they shouldn't." In this case, it was his jack-of-all-trades tech watch that housed his entropy field, nanites, and other necessities. Xu noticed the holograms emitting from it, thankful that the headings showing were standard: settings, stopwatch, heart rate, cholesterol level. All the fun stuff had secret manual codes to enter before showing anything, and there was no way any customs officer would ever push those codes by random chance. Xu almost smiled but thankfully did not.

Keeping his voice level, he responded, "Ah. Yes. My watch. It also serves as a medical device that keeps track of my health. The hologram images are to help me see more clearly." And he pointed to his glasses as if to suggest he needed the extra magnification. "I must say though, my doctor says I must wear that or it might compromise my health. It's tuned into my system and won't work for anyone else..." he said, which was the truth. In a sense. It was DNA encoded to match his system and electronically paired with the microchips that were imbedded in his system. And there was a health tracker on it. But, there was more as well. More that he didn't want getting taken. Such as his potential ticket out of here.

Action: hold out open hand, so that the customs officer might give his watch back

Style d12
11
"I'm afraid I cant let you keep it sir. The watch clearly displays enigmatic technology. It is a crime to smuggle technology in and out of the union."
Luck: 65
"It will be disassembled, studied and reverse-engineered. You are also fined 2000 -M- for violation of customs law."
"Anything else to declare?"
"Very well then, please continue that way..."

The watch is placed inside a small envelope, which is then put inside a glass capsule, which is then inserted into the end of an organ-like instrument in the back of the customs office. That's the Xu sees of his watch.

Design - d20
6

The watch was however, not to be lost forever. Xu remembers an additional feature developed for this very occasion. a 6th sense of sorts from the link between his medical implants and the watch. He can feel the watch traveling through a series of tubes across the city. The fish are enjoying the ride. He'll know where his watch is wherever it goes, at least before they start tampering with it.

[Lunas Legion]

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall

As she made her way back towards the so-called 'Office of Labour Assignment', Isabella allowed herself a moment to wax in the sheer, unbridled genius of her plan. If she was supposedly so ill they couldn't possibly find work for her, they would have no choice but to leave her as exempt or unassigned or whatever 'did not have a labour assignment' was called here. She slowed her pace slightly as she approached, double-checking- Hm.

...She might have been... Overenthusiastic in punching every single one of these out. They might get suspicious. ...Or they might send her to whatever passed for a hospital in these parts, for being a pile of illnesses. And she couldn't have that. She looked up.

The Office of Labour Assignment was drawing close, and she couldn't slow her pace anymore without it being obvious. An idea started to form in her head as she entered the Office of Labour Assignment and swiftly went in search of someone to report to.

"I-" She gave her best, winning smile. "Was informed by a Captain of the Customs Department that I am to report to the Sentinel's Bureau in Kultgarten with all possible haste, and that my passage through the remaining parts of entrance was to therefore be expedited as greatly as possible as due to this Special and Exceptional Order." She handed over her self-filled in medical document. "As you can see, for the purposes of satisfying bureaucracy, the Medical Inspection did this by marking me as having all conditions that might restrict work, even when I quite obviously do not possess them. I believe, in this case, that simply marking me as 'Exempt from Labour Assignment' or perhaps 'Assigned to Special Duties at the Sentinel's Bureau' would suffice."

Action: Bluff and lie her way through the Office of Labour Assignment as having an exception from Labour Assignment.

[G-Tech Corporation]

The Scion of Eddleton appraised the thin man who had appeared at his elbow, and seemed insistent on gently steering him back towards the baggage carousel. Gregor followed dutifully as the man spoke several sentences alluding to an employer who was interested in meeting the mechanist, and a means of circumventing the tedium of customs. Some might find it odd that the hulking figure had included in his luggage an item that was clearly a weapon of some potency, as most legitimate authorities were not in the habit of allowing armaments into their polities.

Of course, the Void-Speaker was no mere weapon, and thus some might be forgiven for their presumption.

Gravely tones followed Winthrop's parting lips as he inclined his head fractionally to the servant, seating himself on the opulent sofa as it stood waiting on the conveyor belt. Impressively it did not protest his resplendent bulk, and barely even creaked as several hundred kilograms of steam, steel, and more nefarious materials oppressed the ornate cushions. Gregor perched nearby on a footstool, placing the traveling case at his master's feet atop the couch.

"Your employer is good to have made arrangements for my arrival - I am in his debt for liberating me from the tedium of border control protocols. A doctor, you say? Medical, philosophical, academic?"

A hand the size of a dinner plate waved the question away.

"No matter. I shall be glad to meet him in person, and then all appropriate introductions can be made."

As the man sat upon the sofa one of his eyes flickered in peculiar hues, the normally ice-blue pupil momentarily red, then crimson, then deep emerald. A mental probe was forced downward into the layers of memory and madness that suffocated the Heir's psyche on a daily basis. Lesser men would have been reduced to a gibbering wretch by the thousand lives Winthrop had lived, the abominations he had committed, the oceans of blood that stained his hands. Most such fragments his conscious mind still dealt with easily enough, for he was no lesser man, but some were handled by the very healthy very stable mechanism of compartmentalization. Once his gaze had pierced flesh, cloud, stone, and heart, and little indeed had been hidden, before that apotheosis had been taken from him, and to remember every part of that would be too be lost forever in the clouds of the mind, divorced from the waking world.

Somewhere in the haunted archives of his mind, memory lurked, waiting.

Recall pertinent information of means arcane and mundane about Dr. Thornberg

[Ralnis]

Isaiah B Winslow,
Baron's Room of the Ela Dorina,
Time 3 Hu

Opening the door was too easy, as was tearing down the tape. Already senses from a life before his university days. A time where one needed to do whatever they had to survive. Opening the door with practiced ease and mild amounts of force, he managed to get into the crime scene. The scene was put together and clean. A precise effort by the victim it seems, which means everything was put together in a neat fashion. Something that the first-class cabin that Isaiah called sanctuary for the next seven hours, or as he was checking his wristwatch.

"Even if it's the wrong time, one can at least keep track of the hours."

Isaiah said to himself as he looked through the room. Curiosity was sniffing around as the dog was making sure that every nook and cranny was searched. The young man was looking everywhere like he had done thing a practiced ease. His mind sharpened by the ages of hardship that made sure that he managed to find many pieces that were out-of-place. A bottle of brown liquid with crude skull shape on it, a half-drunk bottle of champagne, and a note on the nightstand.

The note was something that the educated man saw was really out of place. Curiosity had given a whimpered at the idea of what could it be. Isaiah picked the note and read it carefully. As he read it, he stopped part way and saw the bottle with the skull shape and reread the note. After he read through it, he sighed and felt a large weight was placed in his chest. An ache from the part of his hollow body that knew what this was but a second one was rising up to meet it.

A familiarity that came from the note of a dead man.

"So this was your last adventure too? I'm sorry that it was so poor. Unlike me, at least you fought what you believed in."

Isaiah then folded the letter and put it inside one of the inside pockets of his jacket. It was easy to think why the police would want this when they finally come on-board the ship. The note being tied to something more of the baron's business was a matter beyond what a lowly poor man like Isaiah could worry about. Yet, Curiosity was very active when coming about what to do. It was lying near a square shaped dustmark that looked like a briefcase.

"So, someone came in here before me, took his personal effects, and probably not even on the ship." Isaiah looked at the door.

"Captain detained people already believed to be related to a murder. I supposed it wouldn't be a good idea to try and change his mind. Yet..."

Curiosity was already sitting at the door, his panting and tail wagging already knew what the next course of action was to be. The briefcase was another part of damming evidence that was still at play. His mind pushing down the thoughts that were already threating to overtake his mind, even with the...

Urges that come to meet him. He decided that it would be for the best to try and continue on the improtu investigation by trying to see the theater first. He would expect that if he could gather some more information than he could try to talk with the suspects on the need of getting the briefcase. If not, then he could at least try to figure something out by going to the city proper this time around. Though the Customs border maybe just out of reach for him now with the information he gathered.

FRAGMENT GAINED: Baron's Death Note
Action: Try to sneak into the theater to investigate the crime scene at hand.

[Harkback Union]

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall

As she made her way back towards the so-called 'Office of Labour Assignment', Isabella allowed herself a moment to wax in the sheer, unbridled genius of her plan. If she was supposedly so ill they couldn't possibly find work for her, they would have no choice but to leave her as exempt or unassigned or whatever 'did not have a labour assignment' was called here. She slowed her pace slightly as she approached, double-checking- Hm.

...She might have been... Overenthusiastic in punching every single one of these out. They might get suspicious. ...Or they might send her to whatever passed for a hospital in these parts, for being a pile of illnesses. And she couldn't have that. She looked up.

The Office of Labour Assignment was drawing close, and she couldn't slow her pace anymore without it being obvious. An idea started to form in her head as she entered the Office of Labour Assignment and swiftly went in search of someone to report to.

"I-" She gave her best, winning smile. "Was informed by a Captain of the Customs Department that I am to report to the Sentinel's Bureau in Kultgarten with all possible haste, and that my passage through the remaining parts of entrance was to therefore be expedited as greatly as possible as due to this Special and Exceptional Order." She handed over her self-filled in medical document. "As you can see, for the purposes of satisfying bureaucracy, the Medical Inspection did this by marking me as having all conditions that might restrict work, even when I quite obviously do not possess them. I believe, in this case, that simply marking me as 'Exempt from Labour Assignment' or perhaps 'Assigned to Special Duties at the Sentinel's Bureau' would suffice."

Action: Bluff and lie her way through the Office of Labour Assignment as having an exception from Labour Assignment.

Unscrupulous Labor Officer


"Well hello miss. May I see your papers?"
Style: d12
8 Success
"What a lovely smile you have... you smile at the world, even with all your crippling disabilities and aging soul."
"Worry not, miss. Noone is left without work in the Union. Clerical functionaries are always in great demand, and even a blind man can work a tube exchange, but your insanity and pyromania may qualify you for... special work... Let me see... all right, now just insert your medical documentation into this machine and voila! Your got yourself a job!"

The machine gobbles up the paperwork like a hungry monster, growling and spitting out thin strips of paper in the process. A camera suddenly emerges from the machine, taking a snapshot of Isabella at the worst possible time from the worst possible angle. Then, the machine turns silent and its lights die out. An ID card of sorts emerges from the device.
Luck 85
"Göttverdammt, what is your problem?!" - The man exclaims after a brief glance at the document, before rudely kicking to the aging machine, its inside rattling and lights flickering as a result. The machine sucks the card back in and continues its work.
Luck 31 (Was rolled first)
It comes back a minute later, slightly altered. Its given to Isabella with a mischievous smile.

Isabella - 62859
Occupation: Criminal Profile Filer - Sentinels Bureau - Kultgarten. Administrative rank: 0 (Grey)
Address: 31-80 Charlottengrad, stal'nayastraße 80, Floor 91, Apartment 9109,
U-Bahn Pass
S-Bahn Pass
Balance: 0 -M-

"You're very lucky to have 2 transit passes. In fact I'm sure its an error on part of the machine, but its not my job to fix it.
Here is a map of the area to help you find your way around.
Try not to get lost, but if you do, you can call the toll-free number 787 from any telephone booth ask for directions. Good luck out there..."

The man shows Isabella the way out.

"Oh, and in case you have some free time, there is nice place in Katzstadt you may want to visit..."

Code: Select all

Items Recieved
Red Moon Nighclub - Clubcard
ID card

The door leads outside. A utilitarian square reserved for pedestrian traffic. At the very center, a concrete dome housing the subway entrance.
Isabella is now free to go wherever she wants.

[Lazarian]

Vasily Obraztsov
Duwall International Zeeport

Vas stood stiffly as the customs officer quickly rifled through the nylon duffel bag. It was a thorough search, though rather quick, as there was little to inspect.

"Anything to declare?"

"No, nothing really, sir." Vas muttered, looking down as the officer fiddled with his watch. It wasn't worth much. Just a keepsake. The customsman played around with it for a bit, winding it back and forth, put it to his ears and listening to its clockwork whispers.

"All clear." the guard finally announced, returning to the now out-of-tune watch to Vasily, along with his documentation. Vas moved, stepping quickly towards the door, foreign contraband currency and all moving with him.

"Just... one more thing." the man interrupted, freezing Vasily in his tracks. Cold ran down his spine. Had he been too stiff in walking away? Was there a full-body patdown that he had skipped?

"Glory to Vasovia!" the officer said, holding his fist to his heart. His colleagues looked at him with surprise.

Vasily almost choked in surprise. A Vasovian? Here?

"Yes...comrade. Glory to Vasovia." he replied in turn, placing his fist to his heart. "May the Motherland stand strong and true."

A bit of shame stirred in him - a salute to a country he had deserted didn't quite feel right. But survival was a higher priority than patriotism.

Up ahead, a series of inspection stations isolated by curtains awaited Vasily. One of the stations had a large crowd forming, pushing through the emptied station. Several men and women carefully stepped through the barricades, taking advantage of the situation. There were several other stations, but the nurses sat idly and chatted with one another, apparently indifferent about the surge of humanity pouring past the abandoned checkpoint.

The medical inspection, in his eyes, was just one more barrier to a new life. He didn't think he was sick, as far as he knew - but if they found something, this could spell the end of his journey. So he slid into the crowd, seeking safety in numbers. There was one last checkpoint in the way - Labor Assignment.

Ha. He had been through this before. The State assigning the proletariat their duties. Yes, this was indeed a familiar sight - or, at least, one not so foreign to deter him from entry.

Vas heads to the Office of Labour Assignment to seek his fate. He asks the Labor Officer for a position as a police officer, citing prior experience in the Motherland.

[Harkback Union]

97

Bags, sacks, trunks and cases. But where is Sahara's share of imports? There is no sign of it on the belts.
Could someone have stolen it?
Curiosity d10
10

The conveyor belts start to empty, and there is still no sign of her things. It shouldn't be much, most of the valuable items are already on her person, but still... Finally, some new arriving on the belts. Rows of Furniture materials out of an entry port. Could her luggage be among them?

Code: Select all

Attempt to find Statuette among the furniture?
Proceed without or try something else?

Sahara Amrani
Duwall International Zeeport

Code: Select all

Action:  attempt to find Statuette among the furniture

No. It has to be here. It must be here! She couldn't lose the statuette. It was the only proof she had; it could incriminate her, but that was a risk she had to take. She stepped closer toward the furniture gliding across the belt, determined to comb through if it was the last thing she did.

She resisted the temptation to climb onto the belt, though only after tensing her shoulders and squeezing her hands so tightly her fingers ached. She wasn't that reckless, that desperate. It was just a worthless statuette; she might never need it. Her father would never find her here, and she'd never have to show it to the authorities and pray they wouldn't damn her.

Sahara tried not to think about the food that statue might have procured, or the coat she could have traded it for. She was effectively homeless now. A runaway in a strange land she knew nothing of with no currency to trade or items of value beyond her bangles. Those would go for 50 dinar at home, but this wasn't home. This was...Sahara didn't know what it was. She had boarded the flightship that took her to the port because it was a to a destination she'd never heard of. From the little she'd garnered from asking around, she knew it was an otherworldly city where night and day were reduced to memory. She'd been warned that once you were in, it was very difficult to get out. For her, that meant it was the perfect place to stay hidden.

Keep looking. It must be here.

The Scion of Eddleton appraised the thin man who had appeared at his elbow, and seemed insistent on gently steering him back towards the baggage carousel. Gregor followed dutifully as the man spoke several sentences alluding to an employer who was interested in meeting the mechanist, and a means of circumventing the tedium of customs. Some might find it odd that the hulking figure had included in his luggage an item that was clearly a weapon of some potency, as most legitimate authorities were not in the habit of allowing armaments into their polities.

Of course, the Void-Speaker was no mere weapon, and thus some might be forgiven for their presumption.

Gravely tones followed Winthrop's parting lips as he inclined his head fractionally to the servant, seating himself on the opulent sofa as it stood waiting on the conveyor belt. Impressively it did not protest his resplendent bulk, and barely even creaked as several hundred kilograms of steam, steel, and more nefarious materials oppressed the ornate cushions. Gregor perched nearby on a footstool, placing the traveling case at his master's feet atop the couch.

"Your employer is good to have made arrangements for my arrival - I am in his debt for liberating me from the tedium of border control protocols. A doctor, you say? Medical, philosophical, academic?"

A hand the size of a dinner plate waved the question away.

"No matter. I shall be glad to meet him in person, and then all appropriate introductions can be made."

As the man sat upon the sofa one of his eyes flickered in peculiar hues, the normally ice-blue pupil momentarily red, then crimson, then deep emerald. A mental probe was forced downward into the layers of memory and madness that suffocated the Heir's psyche on a daily basis. Lesser men would have been reduced to a gibbering wretch by the thousand lives Winthrop had lived, the abominations he had committed, the oceans of blood that stained his hands. Most such fragments his conscious mind still dealt with easily enough, for he was no lesser man, but some were handled by the very healthy very stable mechanism of compartmentalization. Once his gaze had pierced flesh, cloud, stone, and heart, and little indeed had been hidden, before that apotheosis had been taken from him, and to remember every part of that would be too be lost forever in the clouds of the mind, divorced from the waking world.

Somewhere in the haunted archives of his mind, memory lurked, waiting.

Recall pertinent information of means arcane and mundane about Dr. Thornberg

Winthrop
Imagination d12
2

Thornberg, Thorn...berg...
Yes... of course. That amateur roboticist and his theories on soul extraction. It was only a very brief correspondence and highly one-sided, with the Void-Speaker having little time for lengthy telegrams from faraway lands. It wasn't terribly long ago, those messages, but they were insignificant to be quickly forgotten about.

Could he have succeeded on his own? Or does he still want help?

Sahara
Curiosity d10
3

Looking around the assortment of furniture... There it is! The statuette, now behind the glass display of an ornate wooden pedestal, trapped there along with a few other trinkets she couldn't recognize. But who could have put it there, and why? Should she break the glass? Or take the whole thing off the belt? Would someone accuse her of stealing?

There wasn't any time to think about such questions, since that very moment, the conveyor belt begun to move again, speeding up with each passing second, the statue and its pedestal racing towards an exit point, along with the rest of the furniture and the 3 peculiar gentlemen stacked on top.
Climb on the belt and travel along the statuette?
Abandon it to its fate?
Try to pull off some daring stunt to retrieve it in the last second without getting on the belt?

[Lunas Legion]

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??

Isabella waited impatiently, only resisting the urge to tap her foot against the tiled floor out of well-practiced restraint. She watched the machine absorb her paperwork, devouring it, spitting out thin strips and making terrible sounding noises-

A camera shot out, took a photo, and retracted. She winced visibly at the angle it would've taken of her. They could've at least given her some warning, it wouldn't be much good to identify her if it didn't get the right angle. The machine fell silent, lights sputtering out and it spat out an ID card.

Whatever it had spat out was quite obviously incorrect as the inspector kicked the machine, lights flickering back to life and the insides audibly rattling in a most concerning manner. Isabella took a deep breath. Her plan, seemingly, had not entirely worked, or she wouldn't be waiting, would she?

The machine consumed the card once more, before spitting it back out. Seemingly this time it was correct, and the man handed it over to her.

She took it with a smile, looking it over.

Isabella - 62859
Occupation: Criminal Profile Filer - Sentinels Bureau - Kultgarten. Administrative rank: 0 (Grey)
Address: 31-80 Charlottengrad, stal'nayastraße 80, Floor 91, Apartment 9109,
U-Bahn Pass
S-Bahn Pass
Balance: 0 -M-

She listened to the man as he spoke, giving the occasional small, polite nod of acknowledgement. That told her a lot of information. A lot of useful information.

One, most people only had one transit pass, and at least according to the map, there were at least seven of these 'Bahns' that required transit passes. She looked over the map and smiled. Between her two, she could get basically everywhere except this 'Maaplen' place, but that didn't mean anything to her. Getting to almost everywhere was good enough.

Two, she seemingly had a place to live. An apartment in Charlottengrad. How... Pedestrian. It would serve.

Three, administrative ranks were a thing, and she was a 0. Which was better than no ranking at all, but the very bottom rung most likely.

Four, she was now a Criminal Profile Filer at the Sentinels Bureau. At least it wasn't manual labour or something similar. She... Maybe she could do that. Maybe it would even be mildly tolerable, even if she had been hoping for an exemption from labour altogether.

The man showed her out, but not before handing her a card for a 'Red Moon Nightclub' in Katzstadt.

"Thank you." She smiled. She even had a potential destination for entertainment lined up. She opened the door and stepped out into a plain square, a concrete dome at the center. Hm. Well, first things first, she should drop her things at her new apartment in Charlottengrad. Then she could go to the Sentinels Bureau and deal with both her new job and her requirement to report to it in one single action. She just had to survive the subway, it seemed.

Action: Travel to Charlottengrad via U- and S- Bahns to drop off her belongings.

[Harkback Union]

Luciano San Tomas had kept a low profile for most of the voyage. Honestly, he was a bit peturbed that the guests and crew were serarching for clues and evidence pertaining to the murder of a baron no less. The ameteurish mess being made would make almost none of it admissible in court, the murderer would be extremely hard to convict.
However today, he and Antonia were dressed in their best and looking out over the bow toward this surreal city, "Ah, it looks like Salvador Dali could have designed this city. It truly is a jewel, and will be a great place for a fresh start--I hope."
"It's beautiful," said Antonia.
Luciano and Antonia had packed their bags and hired a porter to carry them for he and his sister, the porter, spoke to them and said, "The Captain says we'd be ready to disembark in three hours, Señor."
"Thank you," said Luciano, "just please keep the bags safe until we arrive." He handed a 50 peso note to the porter, he knew that it would technically be contraband as soon as they got off the ship, but foreign currency, he knew, was highly desirable in the City and the porter sure looked excited to have even a small amount of it. He had stuffed 100,000 pesos in his jacket's lining, hoping to keep it hidden from customs agents in the event he ever actually needed it during what may be a lengthy stay in this mysterious land. Luciano was eager to learn more, but his goal here was to protect his sister, a promise he made when they both were orphaned. Antonia appreciaed his help. She certainly would have died or befallen a miserable fate if he didn't protect her for the years he did, but she was 20, not 10, but her brother's protective instinct for her was sometimes overbearing. She waited until he fell asleep to sneak out of their stateroom many times.
Antonia's perceptions were not entirely false. To her brother, she never really grew up. He often treated her far younger than her age, He routinely affirmed that he knew just how old she was, but in his mind she would always be his kid sister that he was sworn to protect.
Antonia was hoping she'd have more time away from her brother. She thought if she could find a woman for him it might help, or if he was able to get a good job there it also could help. He had adequate legal training and she was hoping the courts--however they were set up--might have some use for him. If he had a job and a woman, maybe he would let her grow up.
Luciano knew he needed to let her grow up, but really, he had nobody left, just his sister and him against what seemed to be the entire world since he was 9 and she was 5. This made them both very close despite Antonia's growing irritation.
Luciano signalled to a waiter, and said, "Amigo, one more drink before we land, I'll have a Cuba Libre, and bring a Coke for the girl."
"Scratch the Coke, please, I'll have a Screwdriver," said Antonia, "You know I'm not a kid anymore, Luciano."
"I know....but you're all I have," said Luciano.

Attentive Waiter

"Cuba Libre and Screwdriver, Right Away sir."

Luciano was seated at a table with a perfect view of the port and the metropolis beyond. He could see the other passengers storming off the ship and into the passenger terminal, after rumors spread that Harkback customs are notoriously slow and those arriving late can expect to spend many hours there waiting in queue. It was entertaining. Those fools, cramped together like sardines, while he and his sister enjoy a pleasant drink or two and wait out the queues listening to slow jazz from the comfort of their couches.

There was something odd though. Two passengers going against the current. Both man, one of whom was dressed entirely in brown and carried a large suitcase, seemed to be in a hurry, and another, dark complexion with the hairstyle of a microphone. They both went through the bar at some point.

Luck:24
Just as the waiter was about to deliver the drinks, The brown man walked across the room, not looking ahead, he ran straight into the waiter. The collision was spectacular. The waiter was knocked over by the heavy suitcase and both drinks flew into the air, but with incredible skill, he managed to catch both with his plate just as they were about to hit the ground, without spilling a drop. The other man didn't apologize and left in a hurry.

"Here you go madam, one screwdriver with a slice of orange, and cuba libre, with complementary lime.
Anything else I can get for you?"

[Harkback Union]

Isaiah B Winslow,
Baron's Room of the Ela Dorina,
Time 3 Hu

Opening the door was too easy, as was tearing down the tape. Already senses from a life before his university days. A time where one needed to do whatever they had to survive. Opening the door with practiced ease and mild amounts of force, he managed to get into the crime scene. The scene was put together and clean. A precise effort by the victim it seems, which means everything was put together in a neat fashion. Something that the first-class cabin that Isaiah called sanctuary for the next seven hours, or as he was checking his wristwatch.

"Even if it's the wrong time, one can at least keep track of the hours."

Isaiah said to himself as he looked through the room. Curiosity was sniffing around as the dog was making sure that every nook and cranny was searched. The young man was looking everywhere like he had done thing a practiced ease. His mind sharpened by the ages of hardship that made sure that he managed to find many pieces that were out-of-place. A bottle of brown liquid with crude skull shape on it, a half-drunk bottle of champagne, and a note on the nightstand.

The note was something that the educated man saw was really out of place. Curiosity had given a whimpered at the idea of what could it be. Isaiah picked the note and read it carefully. As he read it, he stopped part way and saw the bottle with the skull shape and reread the note. After he read through it, he sighed and felt a large weight was placed in his chest. An ache from the part of his hollow body that knew what this was but a second one was rising up to meet it.

A familiarity that came from the note of a dead man.

"So this was your last adventure too? I'm sorry that it was so poor. Unlike me, at least you fought what you believed in."

Isaiah then folded the letter and put it inside one of the inside pockets of his jacket. It was easy to think why the police would want this when they finally come on-board the ship. The note being tied to something more of the baron's business was a matter beyond what a lowly poor man like Isaiah could worry about. Yet, Curiosity was very active when coming about what to do. It was lying near a square shaped dustmark that looked like a briefcase.

"So, someone came in here before me, took his personal effects, and probably not even on the ship." Isaiah looked at the door.

"Captain detained people already believed to be related to a murder. I supposed it wouldn't be a good idea to try and change his mind. Yet..."

Curiosity was already sitting at the door, his panting and tail wagging already knew what the next course of action was to be. The briefcase was another part of damming evidence that was still at play. His mind pushing down the thoughts that were already threating to overtake his mind, even with the...

Urges that come to meet him. He decided that it would be for the best to try and continue on the improtu investigation by trying to see the theater first. He would expect that if he could gather some more information than he could try to talk with the suspects on the need of getting the briefcase. If not, then he could at least try to figure something out by going to the city proper this time around. Though the Customs border maybe just out of reach for him now with the information he gathered.

FRAGMENT GAINED: Baron's Death Note
Action: Try to sneak into the theater to investigate the crime scene at hand.

Ah the shipboard theater. Cheap magic tricks, bored actors, gramophone music and fake gold décor. This place was a crime scene before the baron's death.
No plays were held since the murder. The stage props are still where they were when an audience member shouted "HILFE!" after the beron fell on her shoulder just before the end of the second act. The body was moved to the freezer and the place locked away, but with so many doors in and out and everyone wanting to get a piece of the action, it was impossible to keep the place locked.

Curiosity - D12
11: Failure

Craving - D12
11: Failure

Damn, not a single clue left for Isaiah. Those bumbling wannabe Detectivu types have scooped up everything, and probably kept them for themselves.

There is sudden, ethereal sound...

Daring d12
3 Success

...the captain, his grisly echoing across the decks

"Ladies and Gentleman, members of crew and any remaining stowaways. "
"We have received news from the port authority that several known high-profile criminals may have been traveling on our great ship, whom may have also been responsible for the Baron's death. A Sentinels unit will soon come aboard to investigate. If you have seen or heard anything suspicious in the past few days, now is your chance to shine."

"We will not stop unloading cargo and passengers, its highly unlikely that these criminals are still aboard and we have a tight schedule."
"This has been Captain Eldberg speaking"
"Have a pleasant stay"

This is bad news... but Isaiah manages to remain calm.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Sahara
Curiosity d10
3

Looking around the assortment of furniture... There it is! The statuette, now behind the glass display of an ornate wooden pedestal, trapped there along with a few other trinkets she couldn't recognize. But who could have put it there, and why? Should she break the glass? Or take the whole thing off the belt? Would someone accuse her of stealing?

There wasn't any time to think about such questions, since that very moment, the conveyor belt begun to move again, speeding up with each passing second, the statue and its pedestal racing towards an exit point, along with the rest of the furniture and the 3 peculiar gentlemen stacked on top.
Climb on the belt and travel along the statuette?
Abandon it to its fate?
Try to pull off some daring stunt to retrieve it in the last second without getting on the belt?

Sahara Amrani
Baggage Claim, Duvall International Zeeport

Then, there it was: the statuette in all its glory, mounted upon a pedestal behind a glass enclosure. Her heart hammered at the sight of it. Sahara's stomach twisted as she realized with horror that her knapsack was still nowhere to be seen; someone, it seemed, had gone through her belongings and stolen all her necessities. The statuette, though, might still be of use....

Anger teeming in her blood, she leapt toward the belt, arms outstretched. If this was all she had left, then she would use it to its full potential, cling to it as a sandglider was moored to the ground.

Code: Select all

Action:  Try to pull off some daring stunt to retrieve it at the last second without getting onto the belt.

[Harkback Union]

Vasily Obraztsov
Duwall International Zeeport

Vas stood stiffly as the customs officer quickly rifled through the nylon duffel bag. It was a thorough search, though rather quick, as there was little to inspect.

"Anything to declare?"

"No, nothing really, sir." Vas muttered, looking down as the officer fiddled with his watch. It wasn't worth much. Just a keepsake. The customsman played around with it for a bit, winding it back and forth, put it to his ears and listening to its clockwork whispers.

"All clear." the guard finally announced, returning to the now out-of-tune watch to Vasily, along with his documentation. Vas moved, stepping quickly towards the door, foreign contraband currency and all moving with him.

"Just... one more thing." the man interrupted, freezing Vasily in his tracks. Cold ran down his spine. Had he been too stiff in walking away? Was there a full-body patdown that he had skipped?

"Glory to Vasovia!" the officer said, holding his fist to his heart. His colleagues looked at him with surprise.

Vasily almost choked in surprise. A Vasovian? Here?

"Yes...comrade. Glory to Vasovia." he replied in turn, placing his fist to his heart. "May the Motherland stand strong and true."

A bit of shame stirred in him - a salute to a country he had deserted didn't quite feel right. But survival was a higher priority than patriotism.

Up ahead, a series of inspection stations isolated by curtains awaited Vasily. One of the stations had a large crowd forming, pushing through the emptied station. Several men and women carefully stepped through the barricades, taking advantage of the situation. There were several other stations, but the nurses sat idly and chatted with one another, apparently indifferent about the surge of humanity pouring past the abandoned checkpoint.

The medical inspection, in his eyes, was just one more barrier to a new life. He didn't think he was sick, as far as he knew - but if they found something, this could spell the end of his journey. So he slid into the crowd, seeking safety in numbers. There was one last checkpoint in the way - Labor Assignment.

Ha. He had been through this before. The State assigning the proletariat their duties. Yes, this was indeed a familiar sight - or, at least, one not so foreign to deter him from entry.

Vas heads to the Office of Labour Assignment to seek his fate. He asks the Labor Officer for a position as a police officer, citing prior experience in the Motherland.

Luck - 51
Style (d12) - 12
Unfortunately. Vasily's words fell on deaf ears.

"No Medical papers? No problem."
"Sure thing comrade, the machine takes your past work into account. Its very smart. Smarter then me. Just put whatever documents you have into that hole and I'll find you your dream job in no time."

Luck - 10

Buzzing, beeping, blinking and some point, burning, the labor allocator machine finally managed to produce Vasily's new set of documents.

"Hold on a second... But then..." - The officer retrieved his own identity card, compared it to Vasily's and... erupts in laughter.

"Well comrade, congratulations. You got my job! And my apartment!"
"Now. I'm sure you have lots of questions but my shift is technically over, in fact, I'm retiring right..... now. Gotta catch my train to FREEDOM, so I'll have to make this extremely brief."
"Old documents go in here, new documents come out here. Press this switch to turn it on or off. There is the fire extinguisher if there if the flames get out of control. If the thing is beyond repair, use form 20791 to requisition a new one machine. Till you get a replacement you can use the spinning wheel thingy and and the temporary labor and residence permits stored in the office wing. Your cubicle is the 5th on the left. Got it? ALL RIGHT!"
"I'M FREE, BABY!"

The man picks up his bag and jacket from a nearby bench and bids you, and this whole rotten place, "FAREWELL!"

Vasily 88743
Occupation: Labor Allocation Officer - Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall. Administrative rank: 1 Mauve
Address: 07-12 Zadox, Windfall avenue 1032, Floor 9, Apartment 961,
U-Bahn Pass
Balance: 0 -M-

[Ralnis]

Isaiah B. Winslow,
Ship Theater, HU 4

Not being able to find a single clue was not entirely out of blue. Isaiah knew other curious types like him would try to nab anything they could get. A little extra money or a scheme against whatever was the Baron's relatives would be. However, Isaiah got the biggest clue of them all. If he couldn't find a clue to where his briefcase had gotten too-

The Captain's voice over the intercom

"I guess that's my que. Already did everything wrong. But at least I have something of worth."

It was a grim thought, one that have him satisfying Curiosity for now. But the idea that he did this was better than if he didn't. As he snuck out of the theater and stated to head towards the lower decks, the Sentinels were already here.

(Luck roll of a 72)

Isaiah didn't have any knowledge of Harkback police. The very small amounts of information that he could get from his former colleagues and people of his past told him of very little. However, he didn't need to know everything about the oppressive blue and procedures that caught him when he was a child. The only difference is that there's no prejudice against him for being a minority, like back home.

(Curiosity 9 out of a d12. Success)

Isaiah saw them before they saw him. They were talking to the crew at the bar and knew that going to get another drink was not happening anytime soon. It also means that progress is hampered for now unless he can sneak out with his suitcase.

Speaking about suitcases.

A man dressed in brown from hat to coat passed Isaiah. The young man turned around as spotted him passed him in a hurry with a brown briefcase. Curiosity now was at full attention and the insatiable need to know came back to him. Isaiah's mind focused to the brown-coated man as his way to the back of the ship.

"Always between a rock and a hard place Isaiah. Can't leave well enough alone. Just like when you were a kid."

Action: Try to tail the Brown Coat Man to the back of the ship.

[Olthenia]

A few minutes passed, and a few more minutes, and then... the monkey came to life. He held something metallic in hand. A tiny scalpel from the nurse's trolley. It was just the right size for the cage's locking mechanism.
Monkey Business - d12
8 Success
Just barely, but after a minute of desperate struggle, the monkey broke free. He jumped around the table in joy, knocking over the glass of water in the process. He then hopped towards the ventilation shaft below the bed, untightened the screws, pulled off the cover and made a daring escape!

The experience was so surreal, and happened so fast, it felt like a fever dream afterwards. That was until the door on the opposite end of the room creaked open, revealing the scaple-welding monkey now also dressed in a white nurse hat, gesturing Annar to follow him out.

Annar Inkerman
Port Duwall Quarantine Room #2

"Oh, Dolores Dei-!"

Annar actually swore; five years of carefully hammered Sunday School education were gone in an instant. The monkey was loose!

And that, as it happened, wasn't all. No, in retrospect, Annar's memory wasn't too damn clear about the exact details of the following events. The monkey's daring escape, scalpel in hand, was strange enough - let alone frightening, especially as the furry escapee had loped his merry way towards Annar's bed there. The young man had just been about to yell for help! But alas - or perhaps, thank the Dei - the monkey hadn't decided to shank him. Instead, what he'd done was raise a terrible metallic ruckus as he unscrewed the damn fastening of a--!

A ventilation duct?

Ah, yes.

Heh. At least one of us got out.

Annar had scarcely thought those words before his head was back on the pillow of his cot. As arrivals in the Harkback Union went - gosh, he had no idea if this was normal or not. And even if it was? Heck, who would ever believe him if he told them? No really, Officer! The monkey escaped on its own, truly! Tsk, tsk. Did they expell you for this sort of thing? Aiding and ambetting zoological criminals from state-sanctioned confinement? Annar had not a clue, and he wasn't about to ask. Ah, well. For a moment there, what bothered the sniffly young man the most was the puddle of tepid water on the floor. Shame about the glass, really.
. . .
The metallic click! of the locked door swinging open tore him from his reverie.

"Nurse?" Annar began, hauling himself up on his elbows. "I-"

Nurse Monkey - black and hairy - grunted what may have been a grin at him. It might not have been solely because of the white nurse hat that sat oh-so-slightly askew atops its head, but Annar felt uneasy then. Damn uneasy.

And then he was on his feet, scrambling for the leather strap of his typewriter case - shuffling his boots back on. "Wait for me!" This, he reasoned, was too damn strange not to investigate.

Against his better judgement - Annar accompanies Nurse Monkey to whatever fate has in store.

[Lazarian]

Vasily 88743
Occupation: Labor Allocation Officer - Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall. Administrative rank: 1 Mauve
Address: 07-12 Zadox, Windfall avenue 1032, Floor 9, Apartment 961,
U-Bahn Pass
Balance: 0 -M-
Duwall International Zeeport

Vas heads to the Office of Labour Assignment to seek his fate. He asks the Labor Officer for a position as a police officer, citing prior experience in the Motherland.

"Good morning, sir!" Vasily said with fake cheer, approaching the Unscrupulous Labor Officer.

"Medical papers?" the officer asked nonchalantly, extending out his hand.

"Erm...uh...they were busy." Vas stammered, attempting to think of a good reason why he didn't have them.

"No medical papers? No problem." the Labor Officer replied with a shrug, a small half-grin on his face. "Guess you can do any job you'd like, then. Not disqualified from anything. Go ahead and put the documents into that hole right there."

"Just...put them in the hole? No evaluation?"

"Yeah, the machine does it."

"I was a police officer for twelve years. Could you assign me that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. How could a machine be so advanced as to do the work of a thousand bureaucratic complexes? In Vasovia, the Bureau of Labor spent nearly an hour with each candidate going through mental and physical evaluations. It was the fairest way - each man would work according to his ability. There were rumors of corruption, but few dared speak of these rumors in public spaces.

"Don't worry about it, comrade! The machine takes your past work into account. It's very smart. Smarter then me. Just put whatever documents you have into that hole and I'll find you your dream job in no time."

Vasily just stared blankly at the Labor Officer for a moment, still attempting to wrap his head around this surrealist place.

"Documents. In the hole." the Unscrupulous Labor Officer repeated, pointing down. "C'mon, you're going to make a line."

Hesitantly, Vas stepped forward and placed his ID into the labyrinthian machine.

Buzzing, beeping, blinking and some point, burning, the labor allocator machine finally managed to produce Vasily's new set of documents.

"Hold on a second... But then..." - The officer retrieved his own identity card, compared it to Vasily's and... erupts in laughter.

"Well comrade, congratulations. You got my job! And my apartment!" the officer said, clapping him on the back.

"What?" Vas said, squinting at the new ID. "What?!"

"Now. I'm sure you have lots of questions, but my shift is technically over. In fact, I'm retiring right.....now. Gotta catch my train to FREEDOM, so I'll have to make this extremely brief. Old documents go in here, new documents come out here. Press this switch to turn it on or off. There is the fire extinguisher if there if the flames get out of control. If the thing is beyond repair, use form 20791 to requisition a new one machine. Till you get a replacement you can use the spinning wheel thingy and and the temporary labor and residence permits stored in the office wing. Your cubicle is the 5th on the left. Got it?"

"What?" Vas repeated, shaking his head. "Could you say that again?

"ALL RIGHT! I'M FREE, BABY!" the officer cheered, punching Vas in the shoulder, before picking up his belongings from a nearby bench and waving farewell to his coworkers. They evidently found this rather amusing as well.

"When does the shift start?" Vas asked, looking around at the other officers.

"Right now!" an overweight man with a large handlebar mustache jeered, in between pushing the switches. "Welcome to Harkback!"

Well. That was that, he supposed. There were...potential opportunities for personal gain here, he mused, repressing a slight grin.

ACTION: Vas works the next 3 Shifts, occupying 3/10 time units.

COMPLETED ACTION: He slams the switch on the machine very hard every time he uses it, attempting to break it as quickly as possible, but in a manner that isn't blatantly obvious that he's purposely destroying it. New worker mistakes, perhaps. VIOLENCE CHECK: D8 = 4. Pass.

CHECK-REQUIRING ACTION: Vas solicits bribes by stating that the wheel can be spun a second time for a small donation to the Union Milkshake Fund. Roll for the shift?

ACTION: Once he finishes his shift (assuming nothing disastrous happens), he goes and visits Zadox and his apartment, riding the U-Bahn.

[Talchyon]

Duwall Zeeport, Customs
Dr. Feng Xu

The decision of the customs officer was not a surprise, but still reprehensible. Dr. Xu kept his mouth still while his mind raced. First, there'd be no chance anyone here would ever be able to mass reverse engineer this invention he had made. Not unless they could find a suitable level of N-53 Morium, which didn't exist on Earth and wouldn't be discovered for at least 1300 years. And good luck trying to disassemble that. The energy field around the watch would turn away tools from the standard screwdriver to laser cutters, and it would withstand several beatings with construction equipment. And then even if they could put it together, they wouldn't know what to do with the thing.

But he needed it. So he gritted his teeth as the customs officer snatched his invention and fined him for smuggling (!) on top of that.

(Image)

Style d12
11
"I'm afraid I cant let you keep it sir. The watch clearly displays enigmatic technology. It is a crime to smuggle technology in and out of the union."
Luck: 65
"It will be disassembled, studied and reverse-engineered. You are also fined 2000 -M- for violation of customs law."
"Anything else to declare?"
"Very well then, please continue that way..."

The watch is placed inside a small envelope, which is then put inside a glass capsule, which is then inserted into the end of an organ-like instrument in the back of the customs office. That's the Xu sees of his watch.

Design - d20
6

The watch was however, not to be lost forever. Xu remembers an additional feature developed for this very occasion. a 6th sense of sorts from the link between his medical implants and the watch. He can feel the watch traveling through a series of tubes across the city. The fish are enjoying the ride. He'll know where his watch is wherever it goes, at least before they start tampering with it.

The good thing was, Dr. Xu could sense the watch. A handy tracker fed information back to his implanted sensors and told him where it was. Apparently, it was going for a spin throughout town. He needed to find it soon after it stopped, if he could ever get out of this. The aspect about paying a fine troubled him, though, knowing that he neither had the money nor could spend his time in prison while the primitives were trying to figure out how his tech worked. Who knew if they'd even let him go outside without paying it?

As he was trying to figure it out, his legs ached and he looked around for a place to sit. There wasn't anything here. The room had no chairs or even a desk. Knowing his knees, Xu quickly ruled out sitting on the floor because it would take a lot longer to get up.

He didn't really want to follow the customs agent who had fined him. Who knew what country this was anyway, and what the courts were like? His legs were starting to shake from all the standing. But there had been a couch he had noticed back in the lobby area where they had disembarked. Xu shrugged. What the hell. It would at least give him a chance to think what he should do.

Leaving the room the way he came, he startled the next passenger who hadn't expected to see anyone leaving, since no one has. Xu mumbled an apology while he quickly made his way over to the couch. Another man in some kind of ethnic armor was sitting there, with another well-dress man standing by, and a black woman with goggles reaching for something. He had no idea what this was all about, but he didn't care right now. Xu sat down on the couch next to the in the ethnic outfit.

"I just need to rest. If this was saved for someone, I'll get up when they arrive."

Action: Sit on the couch and make polite conversation with Winthrop

[Harkback Union]

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??

Isabella waited impatiently, only resisting the urge to tap her foot against the tiled floor out of well-practiced restraint. She watched the machine absorb her paperwork, devouring it, spitting out thin strips and making terrible sounding noises-

A camera shot out, took a photo, and retracted. She winced visibly at the angle it would've taken of her. They could've at least given her some warning, it wouldn't be much good to identify her if it didn't get the right angle. The machine fell silent, lights sputtering out and it spat out an ID card.

Whatever it had spat out was quite obviously incorrect as the inspector kicked the machine, lights flickering back to life and the insides audibly rattling in a most concerning manner. Isabella took a deep breath. Her plan, seemingly, had not entirely worked, or she wouldn't be waiting, would she?

The machine consumed the card once more, before spitting it back out. Seemingly this time it was correct, and the man handed it over to her.

She took it with a smile, looking it over.

Isabella - 62859
Occupation: Criminal Profile Filer - Sentinels Bureau - Kultgarten. Administrative rank: 0 (Grey)
Address: 31-80 Charlottengrad, stal'nayastraße 80, Floor 91, Apartment 9109,
U-Bahn Pass
S-Bahn Pass
Balance: 0 -M-

She listened to the man as he spoke, giving the occasional small, polite nod of acknowledgement. That told her a lot of information. A lot of useful information.

One, most people only had one transit pass, and at least according to the map, there were at least seven of these 'Bahns' that required transit passes. She looked over the map and smiled. Between her two, she could get basically everywhere except this 'Maaplen' place, but that didn't mean anything to her. Getting to almost everywhere was good enough.

Two, she seemingly had a place to live. An apartment in Charlottengrad. How... Pedestrian. It would serve.

Three, administrative ranks were a thing, and she was a 0. Which was better than no ranking at all, but the very bottom rung most likely.

Four, she was now a Criminal Profile Filer at the Sentinels Bureau. At least it wasn't manual labour or something similar. She... Maybe she could do that. Maybe it would even be mildly tolerable, even if she had been hoping for an exemption from labour altogether.

The man showed her out, but not before handing her a card for a 'Red Moon Nightclub' in Katzstadt.

"Thank you." She smiled. She even had a potential destination for entertainment lined up. She opened the door and stepped out into a plain square, a concrete dome at the center. Hm. Well, first things first, she should drop her things at her new apartment in Charlottengrad. Then she could go to the Sentinels Bureau and deal with both her new job and her requirement to report to it in one single action. She just had to survive the subway, it seemed.

Action: Travel to Charlottengrad via U- and S- Bahns to drop off her belongings.

The U-Bahn

An motorized stairwell took Isabell to the dazzling depths of the U-Bahn network. Here, a station with not 2, not 4 but 6 platforms allowed travelers to board trains that would take them directly to their destination without any stops. One such train was just about to depart.

"Achtüng, Vnimaniye.
Expressline N-D destination Neu-Babel départer aus plattform uno imminente."

The subway was cramped. Gloomy faces everywhere, buried in newspapers and hats. Barely any place for the luggage, and good luck finding free seats. Ventilation was surprisingly good. The air was cleaner then upstairs, but that was all the positives that can be said. The train turned, accelerated and decelerated so fast, it was hard not to feel like slowly turning into a pencake.

The U-Bahn finally arrived in Neu-Babel, where, according to the map, Isabel could hop onto the S-Bahn line. Since she was among the last to get on, she was also the first to get off. As she ascended the stairwell up, she saw that this station was completely unlike the one before.

From up here, it could be seen that the U-bahn was not running on conventional rails, but single tracks held up by steel pylons stretching out of the dark abyss below. It seemed surreal, but the station didn't have walls, instead the platform edge was protected by railings from all sides, beyond which a forest of concrete pillars, electrical cables and pipelines criss-crossed among the dark outlines of old structures below.

Imagination - d12
7
But why have the subway run on elevated platforms? It doesn't make sense.

It took awhile, but Isabel found the way to the S-bahn line.

This station looked and felt much more... wealthy. Surrounded by coffee shops and newsstands offering croissants and something to wrap them in. But amidst the hordes of uniformed bureaucrats outfitted with the same unimaginative haircut, Isabella felt herself very, very alone.

The S-Bahn operated on a similar system, direct connections running parallel for maximum speed, and trains coming every few minutes or so.

Daring d10: 6

The moment the train left the station and ascended up its tracks with unnatural speed, the moment she saw the multi-level highways and animated neon signs the size of pocket battleships, the moment she realized there is ominous music playing in her head, she felt a terrible pain in her mind, her vision was clouded and body sweating.

Code: Select all

New condition
Dazed -1 Violence, -1 Daring
Cannot see into the distance

Surely this has nothing to do with forging the medical documents...

Despite the vertigo, Isabel managed to get to Charlottengrad and find her apartment tower. The elevator required her to enter her ID card to its control mechanism, and thus knew exactly where to take her.
The apartment was barely 25 square meters or so. A tiny bathroom, a small triangle shaped entry hall with a closet and a single bedroom with...
Luck 94
...the amazing view of a dingy old parking building.

There wasn't any space between. It was directly adjacent. On the 91st floor.

She could climb out the window and she'd be there.

At least the "rooms" were clean, if a little dusty. A bed was provided and the bathroom had shower, toilet and sink. There was a table and a chair in the bedroom.

NEW AREA DISCOVERED
Charlottengrad

[The GAmeTopians]

Duwall Zeeport
Eliadora, Mistress of the Shattered Tower

A lone figure clad in robes darker than the Zee itself drifted between the crowds of new arrivals, each group seeming to unconsciously make way for the woman as she approached. Fiery red tresses emerged from the hood of the outer cloak as she drew it back, revealing a visage molded by countless eternities.

This was a strange place, even for Eliadora. How such a place had escaped the Shattered Tower's Authority for so long, even in their diminished state, she was unsure. Clearly the Union had some grip over the flow of time in the area - that, or a greater Existence had set up shop within this area of space, and the Union were just dancing on its puppet strings.

No matter. This was to be a vacation, after all. Business could wait.

Eliadora strode towards the customs door, having picked it out several minutes prior - she seemed to carry nothing in the way of luggage, after all, so that was time saved. As she reached the door, a dainty hand retrieved a shimmering passport of ruby red and gold inlay from her handbag, small enough to tuck in one palm idly as she waited her turn.

Going through Customs.

[Lunas Legion]

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??

Isabella had never taken a subway before. She'd never had the need to; what kind of nobility would slum it out, crammed like sardines into a metal tube, when they could be driven to their destination instead in privacy and comfort?

The motorized stairwell took her down to six platforms, stretching out until there was only darkness where she assumed the station's walls were. One train sat in silence, waiting.

"Achtüng, Vnimaniye.
Expressline N-D destination Neu-Babel départer aus plattform uno imminente."

She didn't understand the language, but Neu-Babel was her changeover. She didn't run; nobility did not run, not ever. Instead, she broke into a brisk walk across the bridges between platforms, sliding in with her luggage in tow just as the doors slid shut.

It was cramped, just as she'd expected. The faces of the passengers were gloomy, buried in their newspapers and shadowed beneath their hats. As crowded as it was, she didn't believe she'd find a seat, and so she settled for standing next to the door, holding on for dear life to a dangling handle above her as the train moved like a worm would but infinitely faster, accelerating and decelerating like it was nothing. Their engineers were quite capable, it seemed.

The train did, mercifully, eventually stop, pulling in to Neu-Babel. Even down in the subway, she could tell it was nicer as she ascended the stairs. She hadn't been able to tell before, but from up here, it was far clearer that the U-bahn was not a conventional subway. Instead, for whatever reason, it ran on single tracks, held up by steel pylons stretching down into the infinite dark abyss below. Even the station lacked walls, the edge being covered by railings, beyond which lay a forest of modernity, with concrete pillars, electical cables and water pipes snaking and criss-crossing each other in the midst of old, distant structures.

How... Strange. Why bother with elevated platforms? Perhaps they did not wish to touch what was below them. Archeological preservation, perhaps.

She made her way through the tunnels to the S-bahn, which seemed to be far more her area. The coffee shops and newsstands offering croissants and newspapers almost reminded her of home, if it were not for the horde of uniformed bureaucrats that made her stand out like blood in water. Trains zipped in and out every few minutes.

The S-bahn was far less pleasant. The train sped out of the station and ascended, emerging into what passed for daylight. Multi-level highways stretched out before her, vast neon signs declaring... Something. Her vision swam, growing clowdy. She leaned against the wall of the train to steady herself with one hand, the other feeling the sweat emanating from her brow. Everything felt so dizzy... She shut her eyes and resolved to tough it out.

Charlottengrad seemed... Not ideal. Apartment tower after apartment tower stretched upwards around her, smokestacks of factories billowing in the distance. At least Stal'nayastraße Street was mercifully close. She fumbled with her ID card momentarily, swiping it in the elevator's control mechanism. It whirred for a moment before it opened and she stepped inside, letting it carry her to her apartment.

A minute later, the doors opened and she stepped out, the doors shutting behind her.

It was not a big apartment. The elevator had released her in a tiny triangle of an entry hall. One door led to a bathroom with a shower, toilet and sink, a closet off the entry hall and a bedroom with a bed, table and chair-

Oh. Oh God. Was that... A parking lot? Directly opposite her to the point where she could climb over to it if she was so inclined? She scrunched her nose up. So much for a sea view or something. She dropped her large trunk in the bedroom, along with the empty gun case and her small handbag, before climbing onto the bed. It would serve, for now, until she could acquire nicer accomodations. For now, however, she would rest, and hopefully this sudden outbreak of unexpected vertigo would go away. Then she'd brave the S-bahn back to Kultgarten to report to her new job, and as she had been instructed.

Action: Rest and attempt to recover from being Dazed. If successful, then travel to Kultgarten via S-Bahn, if not, attempt again.

[Harkback Union]

Sahara
Curiosity d10
3

Looking around the assortment of furniture... There it is! The statuette, now behind the glass display of an ornate wooden pedestal, trapped there along with a few other trinkets she couldn't recognize. But who could have put it there, and why? Should she break the glass? Or take the whole thing off the belt? Would someone accuse her of stealing?

There wasn't any time to think about such questions, since that very moment, the conveyor belt begun to move again, speeding up with each passing second, the statue and its pedestal racing towards an exit point, along with the rest of the furniture and the 3 peculiar gentlemen stacked on top.
Climb on the belt and travel along the statuette?
Abandon it to its fate?
Try to pull off some daring stunt to retrieve it in the last second without getting on the belt?

Sahara Amrani
Baggage Claim, Duvall International Zeeport

Then, there it was: the statuette in all its glory, mounted upon a pedestal behind a glass enclosure. Her heart hammered at the sight of it. Sahara's stomach twisted as she realized with horror that her knapsack was still nowhere to be seen; someone, it seemed, had gone through her belongings and stolen all her necessities. The statuette, though, might still be of use....

Anger teeming in her blood, she leapt toward the belt, arms outstretched. If this was all she had left, then she would use it to its full potential, cling to it as a sandglider was moored to the ground.

Code: Select all

Action:  ry to pull off some daring stunt to retrieve it at the last second without getting onto the belt.

Daring - d12
1

Dashing at almost superhuman speed, Sahara catches up with the pedestal, jumps across the belt without her feet ever touching the cursed conveyor machine, lifts the glass cover of the pedestal mid-air with surprising ease and retrieves her prized posession with her other hand, lands near the entrance to the customs office, slides right in and places the statue and her valuables in front of the customs officer.



"Yes. Very impressive." - He says, clearly unimpressed.
"All clear, now move along."

Code: Select all

Customs Cleared
New condition: Talent for Stunts. Advantage on stunt-based daring rolls.
Medical check optional.

[G-Tech Corporation]

A thin man of Oriental character swaggered across the baggage claim before impertinently clambering up onto the paused conveyor belt and plopping himself on one of the pieces of furniture that Dr. Thornberg's association had called up - and by one of the pieces of furniture, it should be understood that Winthrop's own personal couch was assaulted, the man squeezing himself in on the end of the chaise right next to the carry case.

The large man merely raised an eyebrow, and coughed politely, a small amount of steam escaping from beneath his collar.

"Good day friend. Rest, ah, so necessary and so hard to find. A request, though, if you please? My associate here -" and now Winthrop gestured with his ebony cane in the direction of the slim functionary the Doctor had dispatched. "- and I are discussing a matter of some delicacy."

The cane turned this time, elegantly indicating the small collection of overstuffed armchairs that lay on the conveyor belt to either side.

"Would you terribly mind if we had some space for privacy? Gregor here will aid you in your quest for repose."

The stolid Russovite manservant rose, with a tiny half bow to the Oriental man, and without any apparent effort heaved one of the armchairs off of the conveyor belt, setting it up two dozens paces away from the Scion and his benefactor incongruously on the smooth polished floor of the Zeeport.

Bluff bluff bluff the time-traveling scientist with an offer of an armchair.

[Harkback Union]

Duwall Zeeport, Customs
Dr. Feng Xu

The decision of the customs officer was not a surprise, but still reprehensible. Dr. Xu kept his mouth still while his mind raced. First, there'd be no chance anyone here would ever be able to mass reverse engineer this invention he had made. Not unless they could find a suitable level of N-53 Morium, which didn't exist on Earth and wouldn't be discovered for at least 1300 years. And good luck trying to disassemble that. The energy field around the watch would turn away tools from the standard screwdriver to laser cutters, and it would withstand several beatings with construction equipment. And then even if they could put it together, they wouldn't know what to do with the thing.

But he needed it. So he gritted his teeth as the customs officer snatched his invention and fined him for smuggling (!) on top of that.

(Image)

Style d12
11
"I'm afraid I cant let you keep it sir. The watch clearly displays enigmatic technology. It is a crime to smuggle technology in and out of the union."
Luck: 65
"It will be disassembled, studied and reverse-engineered. You are also fined 2000 -M- for violation of customs law."
"Anything else to declare?"
"Very well then, please continue that way..."

The watch is placed inside a small envelope, which is then put inside a glass capsule, which is then inserted into the end of an organ-like instrument in the back of the customs office. That's the Xu sees of his watch.

Design - d20
6

The watch was however, not to be lost forever. Xu remembers an additional feature developed for this very occasion. a 6th sense of sorts from the link between his medical implants and the watch. He can feel the watch traveling through a series of tubes across the city. The fish are enjoying the ride. He'll know where his watch is wherever it goes, at least before they start tampering with it.

The good thing was, Dr. Xu could sense the watch. A handy tracker fed information back to his implanted sensors and told him where it was. Apparently, it was going for a spin throughout town. He needed to find it soon after it stopped, if he could ever get out of this. The aspect about paying a fine troubled him, though, knowing that he neither had the money nor could spend his time in prison while the primitives were trying to figure out how his tech worked. Who knew if they'd even let him go outside without paying it?

As he was trying to figure it out, his legs ached and he looked around for a place to sit. There wasn't anything here. The room had no chairs or even a desk. Knowing his knees, Xu quickly ruled out sitting on the floor because it would take a lot longer to get up.

He didn't really want to follow the customs agent who had fined him. Who knew what country this was anyway, and what the courts were like? His legs were starting to shake from all the standing. But there had been a couch he had noticed back in the lobby area where they had disembarked. Xu shrugged. What the hell. It would at least give him a chance to think what he should do.

Leaving the room the way he came, he startled the next passenger who hadn't expected to see anyone leaving, since no one has. Xu mumbled an apology while he quickly made his way over to the couch. Another man in some kind of ethnic armor was sitting there, with another well-dress man standing by, and a black woman with goggles reaching for something. He had no idea what this was all about, but he didn't care right now. Xu sat down on the couch next to the in the ethnic outfit.

"I just need to rest. If this was saved for someone, I'll get up when they arrive."

Action: Sit on the couch and make polite conversation with Winthrop

There is little time for introductions. The moment Dr. Xu takes his seat, the conveyor belt comes to life. Everyone is then quickly distracted by a daring lady who jumps across the moving conveyor belt and liberates a small golden statuette from a wooden pedestal, triggering an angry sigh from Dr. Thornberg's servant. Then, the conveyor belt rushes through an exit port where strips of orange rubber ruin everyone's hairdo. Now, the conveyor belt is passing through a room full of other conveyor belts, making sharp turns and steep inclines, rotating around everyone's seats, making any attempt at conversation rather awkward, but not impossible. Inside the logistics complex, elongated mechanical arms coordinated by cute little cameras with exposed circuitry exchanged goods and luggage between the various belts. None of them dare touch any of their furniture however, or place any new items on their belt. Only when the belt reached what looked like a truck loading station did a small team of heavy-duty lifting machines with arms and fingers of steel grasp the pieces of furniture and gently place them on a flatbed truck as they arrived.

"Right... Where is all this junk going?"
"Renoire, Express delivery."
"Renoir? In this traffic? Bloody L."

The three workers seem to pay no attention to the people attached to their cargo as they tie a rope or two around the furniture, climb into the truck hit floor the gas before the doors are closed.

Code: Select all

The truck will now begin moving towards its destination. It will arrive in a follow up post.

[Harkback Union]

Isaiah B. Winslow,
Ship Theater, HU 4

Not being able to find a single clue was not entirely out of blue. Isaiah knew other curious types like him would try to nab anything they could get. A little extra money or a scheme against whatever was the Baron's relatives would be. However, Isaiah got the biggest clue of them all. If he couldn't find a clue to where his briefcase had gotten too-

The Captain's voice over the intercom

"I guess that's my que. Already did everything wrong. But at least I have something of worth."

It was a grim thought, one that have him satisfying Curiosity for now. But the idea that he did this was better than if he didn't. As he snuck out of the theater and stated to head towards the lower decks, the Sentinels were already here.

(Luck roll of a 72)

Isaiah didn't have any knowledge of Harkback police. The very small amounts of information that he could get from his former colleagues and people of his past told him of very little. However, he didn't need to know everything about the oppressive blue and procedures that caught him when he was a child. The only difference is that there's no prejudice against him for being a minority, like back home.

(Curiosity 9 out of a d12. Success)

Isaiah saw them before they saw him. They were talking to the crew at the bar and knew that going to get another drink was not happening anytime soon. It also means that progress is hampered for now unless he can sneak out with his suitcase.

Speaking about suitcases.

A man dressed in brown from hat to coat passed Isaiah. The young man turned around as spotted him passed him in a hurry with a brown briefcase. Curiosity now was at full attention and the insatiable need to know came back to him. Isaiah's mind focused to the brown-coated man as his way to the back of the ship.

"Always between a rock and a hard place Isaiah. Can't leave well enough alone. Just like when you were a kid."

Action: Try to tail the Brown Coat Man to the back of the ship.

Isaiah follows the man to the very end of the ship, where the strange man suddenly disappears.
One moment he's there, the next he's gone. The only thing here of interest, leaning off the railing is the rarely seen flag of the harkback. A green spiral snaking across a minimalist depiction of the globe.

Curisoity d10: 6

But whats that? The lifeboats. They are not symmetrical. One is missing on starboard side.
Looking down, Isaiah spots the man, struggling with the mechanism that still holds his boat mid-air, slightly tilted forward.

Style d8: 4

The man immediately realizes he's being watched. He looks up and spots Isaiah, but doesn't say anything, just keeps lowering the boat into the waves.