[SC] The Iron Harbour: Shipwrecked

[Valyrien]

_BACKGROUND, TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

"Due to harsh weather, a valarisk fishing fleet has been stranded while whaling of the Archon continent. Our hearts reach out to those lost at sea and hope for quick repairs for an even quicker return of the surviving fleet." So read the official statement of the Valyrien Empire, following the shipwreck of an unkown number of valarisk warships on the Archon coast. A substantial fleet of the Kejserliga Ôrlogsregimenten and Kejserliga Landsregimenten has been stranded in the area now named Jârnhamn, "The Iron Harbour" by the Valari. Having started construction on a rather sturdy settlement, it would seem the Valari aren't going anywhere in the near-future.

_TWENTY YEARS LATER, PRESENT TIME

Two decades has gone by, and the Valari has shown no intention of returning to Valyrien. During the decades the Valari has established a solid presence in the area and taken to hijack trading vessles passing through without the proper permission of the newly established imperial authority. A large and growing minority of half-blood offspring from the Valari settlers and the local tribes make up most of the units controlled by pure-blooded Valari officers.

Jârnhamn has become a mixed society with a sharp line between the harsh Valarisk militarism and industrialism and the trading posts in the outer-districts populated mainly by a small number of half-bloods and a larger majority of natives and foreigners seeking to take advantage of the opportunity. The mixture of people and cultures has allowed traders to buy valarisk goods that would be impossible to purchase in Valyrien due to it's isolationism, drawing the interest of even to most distant nation.

_RULES

• Sovereign Charter only, but you're welcome to join the region if you want to participate!
• There are no sign up sheets, characters should be described and named in their posts.
• Feel free to describe, customize your environments. This is your story as well.
• There is no such thing as god modding, only poor writing, lets write a great, exciting story. Other writers will let you know (or I will) if there's a problem.
• Register your interest by sending a telegram to Valyrien.
• Keep posts to a reasonable length, paragraph (with space in between) as needed (no more than eight paragraphs).
• Only one character per player.
• One post every two weeks, please

[Valyrien]

Lôjtnant Âlfir Jârngaarde... From behind you'd buy the name and title in a heartbeat with the pale long hair so typical for the Valari, but the genes of his father manifested themselves in his darker ash brown skin more suited to the sun of Archon than northern Rusina. His light grey eyes, good looks and mostly everything else he got from his mother. He was a so-called "half-blood", a term carrying different meanings depending on who used them. A sudden wet breath and the slight, but pleasant sting of teeth biting his ear woke him from bitter thoughts. "I take it things didn't go well with the new General from Valyrien?" Sif said in a mixture of condolences and tease mixted into her tone as she snatched the cigarillo from his mouth and gestured to the empty bottles on his table. He answered the question with a tired nod and a low "Mhphm" sound. Sif tightened her hug around his neck, taking in a deep breath before letting out an even deeper sigh. "If it had been Cassidr you'd gotten the promotion, what did the General say?" She asked blowing smoke from her nose. "Accordning to his interpretation of the Imperial mandate, it did not extend to the Kapten-promotion, and I should be happy with having been allowed to even become an officer in the first place." Âlfir answered with a sense of defeat in his voice despite the bitterness of the words.

The bar was a quaint place filled with all sorts of people, though Sif was one of the few pure-blood Valari in the bar. The a server was quick to come over with two bottles when Sif held up two fingers towards the bar, after which she nuzzled her face against his cheek. "You'll get the promotion eventually..." she answered after a while and took a swig from the bottle.

[Enfaru]

Amongst the bar, holding their own corner together in some kind of isolated party, a group of travelling Tai-Rukan's were busy trying to consume as much alcohol with their takings as they could stomach...and then some. They were busy cheering about the uptake in sales since coming into the so called Iron Harbour. Others of their kin had said it was simply the path to rack and ruin but they had seen nothing but glorious profit, not always in the traditional form of valuable metals and minerals but often in useful goods and commodities. They had manufacturing capabilities, the Tai Rukan's had the rare raw materials and they brought unusual food staples as well that some of the locals seemed to enjoy. Needless to say they were a happy and rowdy bunch dressed in mostly strips of colourful cloth that flowed here and there. As a group they looked pretty much like any group of ruffians one could ever hope to meet or hope not to meet as they case may be but as loud as they were, they were eager to get others involved in the festivities.

"Friends ho!" A particularly joyous girl had broken from the pack and found the two Valari sitting by themselves mulling something that to her seemed much too wearisome for a day such as this. She clasped her arms around both of them, "Come, us you join, all for drink?" She was drunk, that much was clear and her grasp of the common tongue was slipping by the mug full of whatever it was they were concocting in the basement here. She grinned happily, "Long face, no. Sorrows pass with party of joy!"

In amongst the crowd of Tai Rukans sat one young man, who, while sitting quietly a woman or two by his side, seemed to be keeping an eye on things. A man dressed in much more refined clothing than his compatriots, although still plenty of colour and flow to the cloth. He smiled frequently, but he seemed content to talk and watch and he was keeping a special eye on the girl that was attempting to befriend the Valari. Mostly for his own amusement, "What is she getting herself into this time..." He chuckled and drank some, returning to his conversation.

[Iryllia]

The thing was with Iryllians, those that travel often tend to be of a very particular type. Too split them into two categories would not be unfair: Those who are dumb enough to think travelling is a good idea for an Iryllian and those who are smart enough to Travel without being followed. There is a third category, which are Iryllian spies. However those tend to fall into the other two stereotypes, albeit with an ulterior motive.

Jin entered the crowded bar, casting her gaze over her shoulder as the door slipped open. It sidled over every occupant, every corner, shadow and table. The normally creaky door sailed shut with nothing but a whisper. She wormed her way throw the crowd, smiling here, patting there too the odd face or two she recognized. She squeezed into a space at the table. Hailing the bartender she ordered her drink. Her hair was shock white, skin fair and scarred, betraying her Valari heritage. Green eyes however, a-typical of Valari though more common around these parts. The door swung open, shutting as swiftly as it had opened. The creak and slam heard loudly over the press. Jin listened intently, remaining quiet and still between a stinking fisherman and a badly scarred and tattooed soldier.

[Valyrien]

The two Valari looked at the girl with a modest amount of surprise, the man in particular. Sif had been stationed in Archon for the majority of her life, her general openness and friendlyness suggested as much as she gave the Tai-Rukan girl a small wilfish grin. "Come! We won't take a no for an answer!" Sif shouted as she took a hold of Âlfir's arm, gesturing for the girl to do the same and pulled at him to stand up.

Âlfir took a moment, recovering slower than Sif and puffed some smoke before he finally gave them a defeated nod, it was hard to refuse two girls, especially when one of them had a higher rank than him... One of the bottles Sif had ordered was already empty, and judging by her unsteady steps it wasn't the weak stuff either since Âlfir had to guide her with one firm arm around her waist. "Du dâr! Drick och sjung med oss!"("You there! Come drink and sing with us!") The woman shouted with a strange dialect as she saw the green eyed Valari and hooked her arm, don't expecting anything else but a yes as she dragged her along.

The Valari officer had an air of authority that was expected of her station, but also an odd amount of merriment not normally associated with Valyrien. "Put forth your glasses!" She shouted with a smile to the group as she poured the contents of the other bottle, only managining to spill a little. "EN SKÂL FÔR NY VÂNSKAP, VALKRYR OCH ÎMPERIET!" Sif bawled, Âlfir following her statement by translating it into "A toast for new friendship, Valkryr and the empire!". Some of the other patrons that was hiding in the corners of the bar winced at the two last words, and they lowered the mood in general, something Sif was completly oblivious of. They downed the liquid, it tasting more like poison than refreshment. "Help me understand why you drink the stuff?" Âlfir uttered as the anticipated shivers went through his body and he failed to contain a certain expression of disgust on his face. "Little boys won't understand!" She answered in a mocking tone as she grabbed the bottle to have another gulp.

"Nâr vi kom hem från fjârden
Sâ tog vi oss en knorr,
Fâr klâderna var vâta
Men strupen den var torr..."

Sif continued bawling, looking at Jin, expecting her to sing along and putting her arm around the Tai-Rukan girl, trying to get her to do the same.

"Och dâ tänkte vi som sâ,
Det âr bâst att spâda pâ,
Fôr strupen torkar fortare
Ân klâderna ândâ!"

[Iryllia]

Hauled from her seat, it jumped her alarmingly out of her reverie. A Million questions flowed through her at once before she saw the face of the person who's arm she was now linked with. She didn't relax, if anything it made her more nervous but she released the tension that had been building up ever since she'd arrived. "Dricka och sjunga! Hur kan jag säga nej?" (Drink and sing! How could I say no?) She half laughed this, becoming caught up in the moment, taken by the energy spilling off the Valari officer.

Jin slammed the drink with a grimace. While she'd raised the glass in toast, she had not repeated the words nor the sentiment expressed in them. She drained the next with little process and the next... And the next... She coughed on the last one, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as he throat burned. Working its way to her gut she felt herself slipping away, pulled out of her own head. She gripped, Forcing a croaking laugh at the sparing between the Officer and her companion.

"...te vi som sâ,
Det âr bâst att spâda pâ,
För strupen torkar fortare
Ân klâderna ândâ!"

She picked up the song part way through the second verse, quiet at first, she was balancing precariously on a stool near shouting the final verse to the roof. Red in the face she grinned a manic grin. "En till!" (Another!) she cried, over balancing and coming down hard on the floor, crying with laughter.

[Enfaru]

The song had quickly changed the mood of the entire establishment, no longer were the Tai Rukan's isolated in their festivities, now everyone was getting involved, following along with Sif's 'singing'. A few noted the drinking song and followed along with, the Tai Rukan's didn't but then most of them didn't know the words. Except that one girl who had to much surprise engaged the Valari first, she too slurred her way through much of the song, forgetting a line or two in the process and changing the meanings to something decidedly much more naughty.

Far more satisfied with the change in mood the girl beamed and called for music. Such things were a common occurrence in Tai Ruka, wine, entertainment and a happy atmosphere, even when things were sad, it had fast become a tradition to cast out the negativity and it was perhaps something they sorely needed here in the Iron Harbour.

[The Teatascakela]

Heya! I'm gonna jump right in, if it's okay? Bear with me if I mess up (a lot )
~~~~~~~~
Taelynn Irene slipped through the bar's door and into the din. Underneath her dark cloak, her long, bone-straight platinum hair (a token of her Valari heritage) was a soaking mess. Biting back a grimace, she tossed off her hood and shook her head roughly. A causal scan of the bar revealed no immediate threats, so Taelynn grabbed herself a seat and a glass. It was crowded and rowdy, but not unpleasantly so. One girl was leading a mob of people in a drunken sort of singing. Music was starting to play, and people were jostling each other, red in the face. Relaxing, Taelynn tilted her head and downed half the cup in one swallow. Having no interest in joining the group, she played along, content on watching from the sidelines. She wasn't really sure what force had compelled her to trudge through the driving rain in the middle of the night just to drink wine in some bar. But she was here, nonetheless.

Taelynn dropped her gaze down to the amber liquid she cradled in her hand. She could see a distorted reflection of her own face on the smooth surface. A slender nose, rosebud lips a bit on the thin side, and skin lightly tanned from the strong sun, however much she tried to stay out of it. Inevitably, she found herself thinking of a time, long past. Distracted, Taelynn cast her gaze back to her drink. Glittering onyx eyes stared back at her as she tapped a finger lightly on the counter. A nervous tic, really. Logic told her that it wasn't smart for a young woman to be out in a bar alone, but she sensed no sinister vibes from this place. Still, she was glad that her face was plain and unnoticeable, save for her hair and her eyes. But those were easily concealed with a hood. At that thought, she pulled her cloak back over her head and took a cursory glance at her surroundings.

[Enfaru]

Eventually, seemingly exhausted from the singing and the jostling the Tai-Rukan girl slumped down onto a bench nearby but uncomfortably close to Taelynn, she looked up bemused, her densely curled hair not so tied back as it had been and her clothing slightly more ruffled that would be otherwise polite. Yet she was enjoying herself and eventually composed herself enough to sit up, elbows on the table, head in hands and smile at the newest addition to the bar.

"G'- hic- mor-eve-igh...day?" The girl pondered for a moment, "Ah bring you here -hic what?" Another soft smile and her eyes danced playfully.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Captain Otto VanTuyl paced up and down the dock, making sure his eager but somewhat green crew had properly tied up De Bonte Koe to the wharf. "The Spotted Cow" claimed Aalbourg in Anskar, Nouvel Acadie as her home port, but she spent far more time plying less civilized waters around Archon than sitting in her home port. VanTuyl was a privateer, which, depending on who was talking about him, meant that he was either a highly successful merchant or a dangerous pirate. One thing about which everyone agreed however, was that he was a superb seaman and commanded a ship that wielded heavy munitions - munitions he liberally used when necessary.

This was his first expedition to Iron Harbour, though the reputation of the place was widely known across Archon. He noted that the fenders had been appropriately tossed off the side of the three-masted barque, protecting her hull - and her cannon portals - from damage as the waves pushed the ship against the wharf. He tugged on the lines, and was satisfied that they were tightly wound around the cleats to prevent unnecessary rocking. He commanded his crew to remain on board and guard their "home at sea," and walked up the wharf to where the apparent dockmaster was waiting.

"VanTuyl, Otto VanTuyl," he introduced himself. He then handed a handsome fee to the man at the end of the wharf. "I expect this is more than enough for a night's dockage here," he said, with the obvious, unspoken subtext being, "I expect no harm to come to my ship, and you will be paid handsomely for that protection." VanTuyl had dealt with these kinds of ports before, and expected this one operated by the same unstated rules.

About five minutes later, he entered the bar, shaking off the rain that had pelted his coat and muddied his shoes as he trudged up the roadway to what was clearly the epicenter of activity in tow that night. He made his way directly to the bar, and asked for a glass of Aqavit on the rocks. The Bartender gave him a look up and down, noticing his captain's dress. VanTuyl introduced himself, and he and the bartender bantered back and forth a bit. While adept at several languages, VanTuyl knew his accent was giving away the fact that he was 'from away,' so he answered the question before it was asked: "Yolkian Norse is my native tongue. I'm from Anskar in Nouvel Acadie, here on a buying trip. I had heard that this was a good place to make some business connections."

His blue eyes twinkling, even in the dim bar light, he threw back the Aquavit, smoothed his ample white beard with one hand, and ambled towards the room where there appeared to be much merriment going on.

[Valyrien]

The young man only stopped working long enough to give the captain a glance and make sure he wasn't anyone important before continuing reviewing the stacks of paper litering the desk. "Please fill in the document 28-1321A for foreign commerce, document 345-C to apply for commerce in the Valyrien territories of Archon and submit a full list of crew and cargo, fill in document 52..." He uttered at an impressive pace in International, still keeping his eyes focused on the papers in front of him. He had to pause for a moment as a soldier joined the side of the young man wearing a similar uniform. After convercing for a short moment, the young man spoke to the captain again... "That is your ship, correct?" The young man continued as he pointed towards a ship resting next to the scarred and darkened hull of a large Valarisk warship with the name "Jârnvalen" painted across it's side. "You'll need to apply for a special permit to dock a ship with armaments exceeding class-1." He continued, slaming down a bunch of papers in front of the captain. A moment of silence followed as the young man continued with his work, allowing the foreigner to look at the challenge presented before him. "Ah, yes..." The man said seemingly remembering and slapped a tall list of rules onto the stack, one of them specifing the requirement to hand in the papers within a weeks time and another explaining the excemption from most of the documents if the stay was shorter than said week. "Welcome to the Iron Harbour..." He said, not interested in or expecting any follow-up questions. He eyed the money and had listened to his suggestive words, allowing a moments thought of weakness and greed before feeling a burning gaze from a fair skinned officer standing nearby. A drop of sweat ran down the side of his face despite the cool wind blowing in from the sea as the soldier plucked out enough coins to cover the costs and added the rest as donations.

A man spat on the floor, muttering the words "De kan bâda dra ât helvete..." as the merry group had switched to a song praising the Imperium and the Empress, causing every native speaker in the bar to freeze, some with a hesitant and agreeing nod and some with looks of disgust and anger. "Repeat what you just said..." Sif asked, voice low, but calm as she looked at the man with facial tattoos. "What?" She asked and walked closer with long, heavy steps when he gave a barely audible reply... "They can both go to hel-" He more growled in International, but was interrupted by Sif's head smashing into his face and sending him to the floor. Sif was drunk, but still moved with great confidence and spat him in his face, before turning to leave and try to raise the gloomy enviroment. A quick flash, a move seemingly practiced and utilized countless times as Sif felt a sharp pain in her lower back where the tattooed man had buried a knife. Everyone was surprised at the assult despite the shady gathering of people, since attacking a Valarisk officer was suicide for yourself and any group you were affilited with. Âlfir was upon him, delivering strike after strike into his throat, into his nose and eyes as the rest of patrons began recovering from the initial shock and lined up on the two sides of the bar. Âlfir dropped the thug on the floor and took a deep breath as he read the tention in the room... "Who's next?" he let out as friends and sympethizers of the now barely alive thug charged him and the patrons rushing to Alfir's defence.

The knife was still stuck in Sif's side as she stumbled away from the fray, giving the bartender a short, but approving nod as the woman held a communicator to her ear. Sif felt her side and saw her blood covered hand, which she held up for the bartender to see who in return calmly nodded and relayed the unspoken words to the recipient on the other side.

[Iryllia]

Jin woke up in the gutter, outside and in the daylight. She picked herself up gingerly, squinting into the far too bright an overcast sky. She winced as a drop of rain plinked off of her face. Gingerly explored the livid bruise seemingly covering half her face she tried to pierce the hazy vale covering the nights events...

She'd drunk, quite a lot. She'd sung... That's right. Fell of the stool. Crawled into a booth. Got shoved out when it was occupied. Then there was a bar-fight. That's right. Being this far from anywhere bound to find dissenters. The Officer got stabbed and... Bottle to the head. That explains the bruise. She staggered to her feet and began limping her way further into the town.

[Asgareth]

Thora Pao Yeltsin had arrived at the Iron Harbour yesterday. By trade, she was a private detective and had been hired to find a missing 20 year old, Class 2 citizen, who had last been seen around these parts and was the daughter of a senior judge in Asgareth. Thora was being paid a handsome fee to find her. The only trouble was, no one appeared to know her. Thora had asked around the docks yesterday, and around the markets today, but to no avail.

So, instead she turned her attention to the local bars. All of her years of experience, had taught her that news travelled fastest in those establishments. After searching around a couple of deserted bars, she walked towards another one. On her way, she accidentally bumped into Jin, and after snapping angrily at her carried on.

Entering, she had a quick look around. She could see a group happily singing. What they were singing, she did not know. She walked towards the bartender, and asked him whether he had heard anything about the girl. The bartender ignored her, causing her to press some more. Eventually, she had to resort to buying a glass of wine in order to grab his attention. He informed her he had heard nothing, but that she was free to ask around.

She looked over and saw a female Valari officer. She approached her cautiously, well-aware of the reputation that preceded the Valari.
“Good afternoon officer. I apologise for interrupting at such an awkward time. I am looking for a young Asgarthian girl. Have you any idea of her whereabouts? Or know of anyone who might know?” she asked politely.

[Nouvel Acadie]

Van Tuyl had begun to think that his instincts were off - this tavern didn't seem to be a place where anyone with economic ambition would spend an evening. He watched the singing, and the brawling, from a safe distance, not really interested in such foolishness. He noticed another patron, apparently of the same mind as him, keeping to himself and reading over a sheaf of papers as he sat by himself at a table far from the rowdier actions. Having nothing to lose, Van Tuyl wandered over to see if a conversation was in order and introduce himself. He was surprised when the gentleman returned the greeting in Norse - the majority language of Van Tuyl's home Duchy of Anskar. It was not precisely the Norse spoken by the Yolkian ex-patriots in Nouvel Acadie - but it was close enough that the conversation was mutually understandable, even in the din of the noisy tavern.

The man - Lars Juuro by name - was a long way from home. A lifelong resident of the subarctic lands of Meridia, he was raised in a subsistence economy that saw more than its share of poverty. His people - the Sami - had long ago lost much of their culture and language, and had adopted a version of Norse, which was the language of their original Yolkian trading partners. Since the collapse of the Yolkian Republic, they had been left isolated from trade. With little infrastructure, communication systems, or transportation networks,the Sami concentrated on reindeer herding, whaling, and seal-hunting to survive.

"We have other resources, Mr Van Tuyl, but we haven't the machinery to produce them."

"What kind of resources?," Van Tuyl replied.

Juuro looked at him, stony-faced, and finally said, "Minerals. Ore. Granite. We live on rocky outcroppings that could provide stone to build the finest cities in the world - but we lack any way to cut it and ship it. We lack capital. We are sitting on a stone gold mine, with no way to benefit from it. That's why I came here," he added. "I sold almost everything I have to make this trip, in the hope of finding someone - an investor, an ambitious mason, anyone - who could help us develop our industry. May I assume from your interest that you might have an idea?"

The two men had a long conversation about the collapse of Nouvel Acadie, and the re-establishment - a re-establishment that continued to require massive amounts of construction materials for buildings, bridges, and roadways. The men danced around the issue as to whether Acadien assistance might take the shape of investment, trade, or outright colonization - but the prospect of development was enough for Juuro. Van Tuyl placed a number of calls to the seat of the Duchy in Aalbourg, and was then referred directly to the Royaume's palace in Gaspé.

By the end of the evening, Juuro was heading out the door with Van Tuyl towards the docks where, it was hoped Van Tuyl's ship would be waiting unmolested, with the intention of sailing back to Aalbourg.

At the same time, the Palace had already contacted Rémy Chausseur, the Acadien Commandant, to prepare for an 'exploratory mission' to Meridia.

[Valyrien]

The Dead Whaler:

“Good afternoon officer. I apologise for interrupting at such an awkward time. I am looking for a young Asgarthian girl. Have you any idea of her whereabouts? Or know of anyone who might know?” Sif heard the polite voice of the odd stranger ask. Taken off guard by the nature of the question, she simply managed to utter "Wah?" It was enough though, since every other sound in the room was drowned by the sound of the tavern door turning into splinters.


An object reading "Distraktionsgranat 5M" landed in the room, it was oddly shaped like a granad- Was all anyone managed to understand before it went off with an ear deafening bang and causing the windows of the establishment to violently shake and almost shatter. Shortly after the room filled with a bunch of angry people, all heavily armoured and uniformed. Everyone not on the floor or wearing a Valarisk uniform was beaten down with batons or stunned through electrocution. The keen-eyed observer might've seen a bartender disappear through a backdoor.

The Commerce District/Handelskfvarteret:

Jin didn't manage to make it too far into town before she saw a collision between a trader and what almost looked like a roving death squad. "Presentera pass och documentation!" The shouted, ignoring the fact that the trader didn't speak Valar and proceeded to handcuff the fellow when he startled and confused didn't present his papers. Similar scenes had been seen through the night and into the day throughout the districts.


Entire battalions patrolled the streets and the unfortunate ships docked in the harbour were stuck due to the blockade of Valarisk battleships preventing anyone from entering or leaving. The bold sailor wishing to return to Aalbourg might've had a very brief window to almost heroically navigate through/avoid the Valarisk fleet.

[Asgareth]

Thora barely heard the response of the officer, before she heard the loud noise, caused by the destruction of the door. Before she could react, a mob rushed in. Instinctively, she jumped away from the table, as she felt two swift blows to her back. She dropped to the floor, and felt two more blows to her body. As she collapsed, she saw the mob attacking all the patrons.

Thora heard the screams and shouts as the mob continued to attack those left standing. She instinctively covered her head with her arms. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she knew she was in trouble. Whilst she was a talented hand to hand combatant, she could tell she was in a situation she couldn’t just walk away from.

Before travelling, the Asgarthian Customs Officer had advised her to avoid public places as much as possible. She had said the Iron Harbour was no place to be alone, and that crime was a regular occurance. Gangs would rush in and attack tourists and citizens alike. The military forces were of no help. Half the time they were causing the violence, and half the time they were supporting it.

Thora knew she had to get out of the bar, but had no idea how. She slowly crawled towards the entrance...

[Iryllia]

Jin went pale. Somehow in her stupor she'd managed to miss these roving patrols. Remained oblivious to the sounds of the city, passing them off as normal. It struck her how little she knew about this place, it quickly replaced assumptions of a corrupt and loosely governed colonial port into a place ruled with a brutal Iron fist. Not forgotten, not passed by the wayside. An occupation more than a government. She now froze. Hands quickly moving around her body. Satchel, check. Pockets, check. Papers...? She rummaged in her bag, stepping back into the shadow of a doorway Valarisk passport? Yup. Travel documents... Yes. These. A little money in case of bribes... And a bottle of brandy? Shit. She'd swiped it from a few people fighting around a table. Completely forgotten about that. She stepped out of the doorway, making to cross the street. She froze, again, half way across as the shout, and shot rang out down the street.

"Stanna!" Yelled the trooper, the dust from the ground had been kicked up by the bullet impact, dusting the legs of her trousers. "Händer!" Came the next. Jin complied, carefully raising her hands from her sides and turning to face the soldier. There were four, clad in armour plate painted jet black and burnished silver. Death masks covered their faces and angular helmets covered their heads. All carried rifles, sidearms, metal riot shields on their backs and a large baton at the waist. They all had bayonets fixed, the one closest to her was bloody. "Presentera pass och documentation!" The voice was harsh and distorted from the speakerphone. uncomfortably loud at such a short distance. She made a motion towards her bag, attempting to convey her intentions without getting shot. She reached down slowly, opening her satchel and drawing out her passport and travel documents. The soldier snatched them from her hand, barely after they'd left her bag. It made her flinch, causing one of the men to chuckle. "Rädd?" He asked, almost jeered. Just ignore them, get past it all. "Mycket bra..." The one inspecting her papers muttered. "Du kan gå" He handed her back the papers, she nodded stuffing them back into her bag.

As she turned an Iron hand grabbed her arm. "Men varför rusa?" She could hear the smile in his words, the grip tightened and she let out an involuntary yelp. It was quiet, almost like a squeak, but loud enough. "Åh? Skadar jag dig?" He yanked on her arm, causing her to stagger closer. "Inga fartyg lämnar här för en stund." Her face was uncomfortably close to the mask, she could smell the rancid breath, the caress of a blade on her cheek, the wetness of the blood on the blade. His rifle hung loose, the bayonet firmly gripped in his fist. "Varför inte stanna?" The words were dreadfully sweet. "Vänligen!" She interjected, ignoring the press of the blade "Jag måste gå. Jag gick vilse och jag måste gå till hamnen."
"Lämna? Varför lämna när du kan stanna här. Bo här och ha kul med oss?" A rivulet of blood ran down her jaw. She heard it drip into the dirt and the knife dug deeper. Another scar to the list it seems. She struggled to keep her face expressionless. Don't give them anything. It's no fun to play with your food if your food doesn't fight back. They remained, locked almost together like this for seemingly hours. Then, after a few seconds, the soldier grunted. Slashing open her cheek with a simultaneous motion as throwing her to the ground. He lifted his mask and spat on her. "Halvblod." He spat again, kicking her in the ribs. Stepping over Jin now curled up on the road. The others laughed, taking turns to kick and spit before moving on, leaving Jin in the road, surrounded by nothing. She staggered to her knees, dabbing at her cheek, the blood of which soaking her shirt collar and the side of her coat. She ripped a chuck of her shirt off, bundled it up and pressed it to her face. She stood, starting to stagger in the rough direction of the docks, and back towards The Dead Whaler.

[Nouvel Acadie]

"Chaos. Jackbooted, fascist chaos."

Lars Juuro muttered - perhaps a bit too loud - as he and Van Tuyl hurried towards their ships at the docks. In the night air, they could hear scuffles and altercations at every corner - some drunks, some common criminals, and some, clearly, official security forces. For all of the official appearances from the dock master that this was a highly bureaucratic, orderly port, it seemed to them to be little more than camouflage for the disorder that appeared to underlie the entire city. Juuro nervously puffed on his cigarette as they neared the water. As they approached the dock, they were intercepted by a group of three men, and the incessant demand for "papers."

"I gave you all of my papers when I landed!," Van Tuyl barked at the group, knowing damned well he had ignored the initial request upon landing and was not about to volunteer any documents up to these thugs. As the men began to argue among themselves, Van Tuyl noticed that one of them was the young man he had initially met when he arrived. he turned to the young man and asked, "You remember, don't you son? When I paid my docking fee?"

He was hoping that the young man - who appeared too eager to accept more than the required fee from Van Tuyl earlier that evening - could be silently blackmailed. The young man appeared to understand the innuendo, and suddenly changed his tune. The men were allowed to pass, but were informed that no ships would be permitted to depart he harbor, as the navy had blockaded the port.

Van Tuyl was about to argue, but quickly agreed and stated that he and Juuro were only returning to their ships for an evening's rest. They were permitted passage down the docks.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Juuro asked. "We need to get out of here NOW."

"I have a plan," Van Tuyl responded. "And it requires scuttling your ship."

"What?!" Juuro exclaimed.

"Listen to me. For whatever reason, we are trapped here. Our ships are going to be boarded and raided whether we like it or not, so we need to create a diversion. The dock masters know I have munitions on board.

Go to your ship and empty the fuel tanks into the bay. Break a hose or something - make it look like an accident. Get your men off the ship, and throw that cigarette butt into your gas tank. Then run like hell and get down to De Bonte Koe. In the interest of preventing my munitions from blowing this port to hell I will run towards the blockade and explain we need to remove ourselves from the fire lest we blow up their port. Between the chaos of your own ship burning and my warnings, we may be able to cause enough confusion to get past the blockade.

Chaos seems to be the rule here...let's use that against them."

Twenty minutes later, Juuro's ship, and the waters around the main wharf, were aflame, and De Bonte Koe was racing towards safety as the night sky lit up a ghostly orange. In the fashion of any good seaman, Van Tuyl radioed a danger signal on the marine radio, hoping to engage a Valerian battleship that might permit him passage rather than see their harbor in shambles.

[Valyrien]

A sense of quiet settled in amongst the streets, the buildings and the scorched remains of buildings that had played hosts to chaotic scenes throughout the week. People of every background had been dragged to court, proven guilty and then executed by firing squad, all of which in orderly and quick fashion. Today's executions included a harbour official accused of corruption, a soldier charged with sexual harassment as well as looting and murder. The soldier's nose broken and one of his eyes damaged from having the eyeball burst, all of which after a round with a Commissar. The rest of the lineup were accused of treason, some of the faces familiar from the brawl in The Dead Whaler a few days ago. The soon to be dead were facing the wall out of pragmatism, robbing those wanting a stoic death facing their executioners.

"Presentera gevär!
"Ta sikte!"
"Ge eld!"

And new shades of red was added to the already existens ones on the wall behind them.

---

One of the captains let out a swear before ordering the crew to make way for De Bonte Koe, letting out another as they ordered the ship to kill their engines and not recieving the complience they wanted. A half-hearted attempt at disabling the ship was made when the cannons rung out into the night, but the Valarisk battleship didn't pursue. The blockade continued as firefighters arrived at the scene and began exstingushing the flaming ship and where the flames had spread.

---

The Dead Whaler had lost it's semi-welcoming apparence. The broken windows as well as dried blood and pieces of debris might've been the cause, then again it could've been the slowly returning memories of seeing teeth flying across the room from a baton to the face.