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Strangers in a Strange Land (Dead & Closed)

PostPosted: Thu Jul 02, 2020 1:47 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
It was somewhere in the late morning when the passenger jet experienced severe technical difficulties and crash-landed on the water. The exact cause of the malfunction would be impossible to determine short of dredging the plane up from the bottom of the ocean and examining it. As it was, one moment the aircraft was flying through the skies, filled with passengers from many different nations, and the next moment it had plummeted into the blue waters of the Magellanic Ocean. The pilots did their best to make the descent a slow and controlled one, but in the end their skills weren't able to counteract the forces of nature. The plane hit the water hard, breaking in half under the stress of impact, and the passengers were scattered into the salty waves. The one silver lining was that the pilots had succeeded in slowing the plane and adjusting its angle of impact just enough so that most of the passengers would still be alive in the water, as opposed to dead on impact.

The first people to notice the crash were the crew of a fishing trawler, the Mother of Mary, which happened upon the scene while making its way towards a shoal of fish. Steam wafted out from a high, narrow funnel set about two-thirds of the way back on the ship as its engine chugged the craft through the water. It was one of the deckhands, at the bow of the ship, who first called out that something strange was on the water. As the trawler got closer and closer, the distant shapes resolved into people floating in the water, alongside luggage and bits of debris.

"Must have been a ship, sank overnight," the skipper said as he surveyed the scene. "Take us over there, slowly, and we'll see if there's any left to pull out."

"Aye aye, cap'n." The ship's driver followed the skipper's orders, changing course and slowing the trawler to a halt at the edge of the scene. The deckhands of the ship hurried to cast life preservers into the water, each one trailing a hastily-fashioned rope lifeline that connected it back to the ship. Anyone who could grab hold of a lifeline was pulled from the brine and onto the deck of the trawler.

Yet the trawler did not happen on the scene until several hours after the crash. By the time the Mother of Mary arrived and began its efforts at rescue, some passengers from the unlucky plane would have borne away by the current. At about the time the Mother of Mary was throwing out its lifelines, these other passengers would be washing up on the shores of the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions...

OOC: Feel free to RP a surviving passenger on the plane, getting rescued by the trawler or washing up on the shores of the Atlantian Dominions, and/or a government trying to determine what happened to the plane and its passengers. This RP is designed as a way to get back into the swing of things after a short break from the forums and a canon reboot. In short, the Atlantian Dominions is a nation which experienced a series of cataclysmic events in the first decade and a half of the 20th century, which nearly destroyed civilization. The nation that emerged is conservative, reactionary, and thoroughly convinced of the evilness of "modernity." The result is that the Atlantian Dominions of 2020 looks like a nation frozen in the late 19th/early 20th century, with a feudal social structure, neo-Victorian morals, and very little in the way of high technology. My factbooks have more information. The plane crashed in the Magellanic Ocean and the passengers washing up on shore would be washing up on the shore of the Dominion of Lemyone, or even the very northernmost bit of the Republic of Calafia (see Map).

PostPosted: Fri Jul 03, 2020 2:17 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
At around the same time the Mother of Mary sighted the floating wreckage and passengers from the crashed jet plane, a young boy on horseback blew through the open front gate of Caliga Estate in a big hurry. The mount, tired from being pushed to the limits of its endurance, came to a skidding stop in front of the main mansion, and the boy hopped off nimbly to race up the stairs. Seated under the shade of the porch were Tavish Gray and his sons, Scott and Hamish. The three men had been chatting idly since retiring from the dining room to enjoy the day. In the distance, Indentured laborers were tending the tobacco fields under the relentless heat of the sun.

"Sir, mister Tavish sir," the boy panted out as he came to a stop. "Mister Ross sent me. There's people washing up on the beach!"

"People washing up on the beach? You and your daddy been out in the sun too long." Tavish waved a hand as if brushing away a gnat flying in his face. "I thought you were gonna bring us back some catfish for dinner tonight. 'Stead you're talking nonsense."

"It's the honest truth, swear to God," the boy, whose name was Douglas, put his hand over his heart to show his sincerity. "We was going to the fishing spot when my pa saw something on the beach. It was a person, in real funny clothing. Pa said it must've been from a shipwreck, he told me to come get help."

"Scott, Hamish, go with Douglas and see what this is all about," Tavish ordered. "There best be a real person dying on that beach, son."

"There is, honest!"

In a few minutes the two Gray brothers were saddled up and ready to follow young Douglas Gray, who was their cousin on their mother's side. Scott Gray slung a lever-action Lancaster repeater over his back, just in case, and Hamish Gray slipped a Cattleman six-shooter into a holster at his hip. There had been talk of Kaijun raiders in recent weeks, striking out from the mangrove swamps in the dark of night to attack homesteads and smaller plantations, or waylaying vulnerable travelers on the roads that ran close to the swamps. The beach where Douglas Gray and his father Ross had been going to fish wasn't too close to danger, but it never hurt to be careful.

Mounted on horses from the stables, the two brothers followed their young cousin out through the Estate gate, past more tobacco and indigo fields worked by Indentured laborers in shabby clothes, and out to the beach where Ross Gray was waiting for them. Sure enough, there on the beach was the figure of a person, soaked to the bone by the salt water of the Magellanic Ocean and lying face up on the sand.

"See, I told ya," Douglas Gray crowed in triumph as they approached. Hamish Gray clicked his tongue at the boy. All three dismounted and joined Ross where he stood near the body.

"They're alive," Ross announced as Scott Gray nudged the person with the toe of his boot. "Still hanging on, at least."

OOC: Just a bump and another possible avenue for entry to the RP.

PostPosted: Fri Jul 03, 2020 2:48 pm
by Danceria
Aboard the Mother of Mary



Shivering and scanning the waters, the elderly man was among the first to have survived. By garb and demeanor, he appeared to be a man of the cloth, and though his eyesight had failed him, he nevertheless helped-or tried to help-secure as many of the fallen passengers as he could. To one of the crewmen, and to any, he called out for a "Theomer", a "young lad, sixteen, blond hair blue eyes slight tan." Allegedly he was his uncle...

Shores of Lemoyne



In the boy's mind, he was home. The only source of water was the Entwade far and away, and he looked up across a clear blue sky, from the rolling grassy hills of Rohan. Yet he had not come home, he had left it with his mentor, and the silver-white steed next to him in his mind was not Rocky, but perhaps some apparition for those who are more predisposed towards dreams and portents.

For when the silver steed pressed his muzzle against the boy, it felt like a human's toe, and that's what he woke up to.

To those who stood upon the beach, the young lad couldn't be older than sixteen. Flaxen yellow hair and groggy blue eyes that sparked in alertness and awareness, he behaved rather...oddly upon seeing that the group were armed and dangerous. He instinctively went for his side, where presumably some sidearm or knife would have been, but the lad seemed to have gotten his wits.

He raised his hands and asked something in a strange tongue, none heard by any native of this land before venturing. "...How about English? Can you understand me?" he spoke in an accent most rural and British, but it seemed beneath his calm demeanor he was still a young lad lost at sea.

PostPosted: Sat Jul 04, 2020 11:44 am
by Atlantian Dominions
Aboard the Mother of Mary
Danceria wrote:Shivering and scanning the waters, the elderly man was among the first to have survived. By garb and demeanor, he appeared to be a man of the cloth, and though his eyesight had failed him, he nevertheless helped-or tried to help-secure as many of the fallen passengers as he could. To one of the crewmen, and to any, he called out for a "Theomer", a "young lad, sixteen, blond hair blue eyes slight tan." Allegedly he was his uncle..

There were nine deckhands aboard the Mother of Mary, and they performed the brunt of the rescue labor, throwing out and reeling in the lifelines and hauling the sopping wet passengers over the side of the ship. They had little in the way of things to comfort the survivors once they were on deck, besides a handful of blankets, some fresh water to drink, and the promise of warm tea being brewed in the ship's small galley. The most senior deckhand, who had some training as a physician to tend to cuts and other hazards of the job, tried to do what he could for those who were pulled from the ocean with serious injuries.

One of the deckhands brought the skipper over to talk to the old man, who seemed to be clergy of some sort. Where many of the deckhands seemed to be darker skinned men, the man in the captain's hat was a white man with skinned that had been leathered by sun and salt. He held a pipe in his mouth with one hand, but it was not lit.

"Don't think we've pulled anyone out of the drink who sounds like your nephew," the skipper said. "I'm sorry. But don't lose all hope, sir - he might have been carried off to shore by the tides. We're not too far from land." The skipper fiddled with the pipe. "If he's on a beach somewhere, it won't be long before's he found. When we go back to Charlestown and get the word out, you'll be reunited."

"I, um, I know you're in a bad way," the skipper added. Expression sympathy was obviously not one of his strong suits. "But what happened here? Do you know why your ship went down?"

On the Shore of Lemoyne
Danceria wrote:To those who stood upon the beach, the young lad couldn't be older than sixteen. Flaxen yellow hair and groggy blue eyes that sparked in alertness and awareness, he behaved rather...oddly upon seeing that the group were armed and dangerous. He instinctively went for his side, where presumably some sidearm or knife would have been, but the lad seemed to have gotten his wits.

Hamish Gray saw the boy go for his side and his heart leapt with a sudden burst of adrenaline. He reached for his own holstered pistol, but Scott reached out and held up a hand between the two men.

"Hold it," he snapped. "He's got no weapons. He's just getting his bearings." Hamish lowered his hand down, away from the grip of the revolver.

Danceria wrote:He raised his hands and asked something in a strange tongue, none heard by any native of this land before venturing. "...How about English? Can you understand me?" he spoke in an accent most rural and British, but it seemed beneath his calm demeanor he was still a young lad lost at sea.

"Yeah, we understand you," Scott said, crouching down and interposing himself between the boy and Hamish. Ross Gray had gotten up to give him some space, and he was now standing with a hand on young Douglas Gray's shoulder. The boy, who was younger than the stranger by maybe two or three years, regarded the unknown person with eyes that sparked with curiosity.

"You look like you've had a rough time of it, fella," Scott continued. "Are you hurt?"

"How'd you end up on the beach?" Hamish said from over Scott's shoulder. The crouching Gray brother shot his standing brother a look that shouted I was getting to that before turning back to face the boy.

"Plenty of time for that, but I bet you'd like a change of clothes and something to warm you up, eh?" Scott extended a hand to help the boy up. "You can tell us what happened back at the Estate."

PostPosted: Sat Jul 04, 2020 3:20 pm
by Danceria
Aboard the Mother of Mary



"Ship...?" the man cocked his head in confusion. "...We went down in an aeroplane. By the Grace of Theotokos and Saint Cristoforos we've been delivered to your care." the man composed himself. "I am Reverend Stavros Galanis, of the Church of Danceria." the elder however regarded the rest of those who were his fellow survivors. "Though I cannot say that every one of these passengers were from the same country as I am." Turning to address the Captain, Stavros continued. "On the subject of countries, where does this boat make her port? What nation does "Charlestown" belong to?"



On the Shore of Lemoyne



"Aside from water in my lungs I'm...I'm fine." The lad looked behind him, down the beach and across to the seas, his body shuddering under the cold awakening ashore a strange land. Upon hearing the plans of escorting him to an "estate" his clear blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "The Household of whom, if I may ask." he inquired. "And where are the others...?"

The last question was a mix of hope and trailing off into hopelessness. Perhaps he truly was the only survivor...

PostPosted: Wed Jul 08, 2020 2:51 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
Danceria wrote:"Ship...?" the man cocked his head in confusion. "...We went down in an aeroplane. By the Grace of Theotokos and Saint Cristoforos we've been delivered to your care." the man composed himself. "I am Reverend Stavros Galanis, of the Church of Danceria." the elder however regarded the rest of those who were his fellow survivors. "Though I cannot say that every one of these passengers were from the same country as I am." Turning to address the Captain, Stavros continued. "On the subject of countries, where does this boat make her port? What nation does "Charlestown" belong to?"

Aboard the Mother of Mary

"An aeroplane you say?" John whistled in surprise. He'd only ever seen aeroplanes in movies about the time before the False Tribulation. They'd looked like rickety contraptions, so he didn't consider it too unbelievable that one of those overbuilt kites could have come down in the water. But still, to meet a man who'd actually been flying through the sky!

As a fishing boat skipper, John Beauregard was a man accustomed to hearing people invoke strange gods and saints. The fishing trawlers that set out from Lemoyne employed a motley crew of men from the lowest rungs of Atlantian society: black Atlantians who had a distant ancestor who'd been brought over as a slave in the colonial days, Honduraguan and Yamese immigrants, mixed-race men with Indijan blood, and all sorts of white Atlantians who couldn't find respectable jobs elsewhere. This Reverend Galanis might worship some pagan god named "Theotokos," but he was still a man of the cloth and due some respect. He also seemed to be the only person they'd found who was capable of talking at the moment.

"Charlestown," John Beauregard repeated. "Biggest port in the great Dominion of Lemoyne, in the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions. God's chosen country." He said that last bit with some pride, for Atlantians were raised on the idea that God had indeed chosen the Confederation as his Kingdom on Earth. That belief was one thing that kept men like John Beauregard from questioning the system that kept him firmly in a position where one poor catch might doom him to utter poverty.

Danceria wrote:"Aside from water in my lungs I'm...I'm fine." The lad looked behind him, down the beach and across to the seas, his body shuddering under the cold awakening ashore a strange land. Upon hearing the plans of escorting him to an "estate" his clear blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "The Household of whom, if I may ask." he inquired. "And where are the others...?"

The last question was a mix of hope and trailing off into hopelessness. Perhaps he truly was the only survivor...

On the Shore of Lemoyne

"Our household," Scott Gray said. "Well, our family's household. Caliga Hall ain't too far away. I'm Scott Gray, this is my brother Hamish, our uncle Ross, and his boy Douglas." Scott Gray pointed to each person as he named them. "Gray family owns just about all the land you'd step on if you'd started walking off this beach."

"What others?" Hamish asked insistently. "Were you on a ship?"

"Hamish," Scott interjected. "How else in the damn world is he gonna wind up on a beach soaked like this?" He turned back to the boy and frowned. "Sorry about my brother. He gets jumpy when he doesn't know what's going on, so he's jumpy just about all the time. If there are others, we ain't found 'em. Sorry, son."

PostPosted: Fri Jul 10, 2020 5:29 pm
by Toad Isle
The Magellanic Ocean lay flat and firm, far below. Aubrer Delane strained and twisted, looking for his reflection in the bright little window, which rattled to the engine's hum. Aubrer relented, twirling his moustache by way of consolation. With his free hand, he flipped through a glossy magazine. Smoke coiled from the wing. Casually, Aubrer glanced from his read, grinning at the drinks trolley, glinting in its aisle. He fished a comb from his pocket, currency folded between its teeth. In return, the attendant quietly counted out a dozen napkins, and lifted a complimentary bottle from beneath. Trapped inside the bottle, a tiny scorpion: beautiful, valuable, and endangered. Moments later, the bottle was stored within Aubrer's belt buckle. And then they fell out the sky. An open magazine whacked across Aubrer's face, and the attendant promptly crunched his own neck against the ceiling.

An abacus spun with bubbles, and each bubble reflected a familiar face. Stiff passengers. Aubrer's passport photo. Schoolteachers on Toad Isle. The bubbles popped, one by one, until a great mouth was outlined - his employer's. Aubrer awoke, hugging his buoyant neck pillow. Waves lapped all around, and his toes were numb. Some way off, the plane churned and sank. Delicately, he withdrew an arm from the pillow, and felt down his body, searching for the belt. At his navel - nothing. Aubrer sputtered, feeling for the first time his aches and pains. Then, chewing his whiskers for comfort, he continued down his body. Wrapped around his knee like seaweed, the sodden belt. Tired fingers worked the leather, and pried it loose, before it was lost to a fumble. Aubrer dived after it, submerging and snatching.

Aubrer was dragged aboard the Mother of Mary, unconscious and unresponsive. In his clenched fist, a belt buckle, silvery and unobtrusive; ranged by white knuckles and clammy flesh. Coins jangled in his pale slacks, diverse currencies from all over the world. At his shirt pocket, a Toad Isle passport, bearing his name, and little else, due to water damage. All in all, an urbane man at the end of his youth, and perhaps his life.

PostPosted: Sat Jul 11, 2020 11:59 am
by Atlantian Dominions
Toad Isle wrote:Aubrer was dragged aboard the Mother of Mary, unconscious and unresponsive. In his clenched fist, a belt buckle, silvery and unobtrusive; ranged by white knuckles and clammy flesh. Coins jangled in his pale slacks, diverse currencies from all over the world. At his shirt pocket, a Toad Isle passport, bearing his name, and little else, due to water damage. All in all, an urbane man at the end of his youth, and perhaps his life.

The deckhand who hauled Aubrer Delane aboard the Mother of Mary was a half-Yamese man, born to a mother who had sailed across the same ocean he now fished to find a better life in the Dominion of Lemoyne, and the low-class laborer who hadn't let the rampant sinophobia of Atlantian society stop him from falling in love with her. As a mixed-race man, especially one with a face that plainly showed the Asiatic features passed down by his mother, he'd had few choices for career and none of them particularly cushy or glamorous. But working a fishing trawler was better than slaving away in a mine or field.

The man before him was alive and breathing, but unconscious. He rifled through the man's pockets, finding the water-soaked passport with his name. Aubrer Delane...a strange first name, but not something totally alien. His pockets were full of coins, most of which the deckhand had never seen before and left laying on the deck of the trawler. A few that he recognized, and knew would be accepted as currency back in Charlestown, disappeared into a different pocket than the one they had been retrieved from.

Before he could investigate what was held in the man's clenched fist, the voice of another deckhand snapped through the air. "Yao! What are you doing over there?"

"Trying to wake this one up!" The deckhand, Yao, called back. He jostled Aubrer. "Hey, hey! You still alive?"

PostPosted: Sat Jul 11, 2020 3:02 pm
by Toad Isle
Parrots circled above and chattered around. Vases and urns littered the aviary, ancient and chipped, overflowing with seed. An antique shield sloshed and spilled water, birds bathing in its wet interior. Heavy drops spread across the flagstones, rolling into Aubrer's toe.

They sipped champagne in silence. Miles savored with his lips, while Aubrer's nose wrinkled.

Miles waited until his lips were dry. "You know, we expected payment last Tuesday."

Aubrer passed his champagne glass from one hand to the other, anxiously. "I... I don't have the... Funds right now." Perched on a dull spear, a cuckatoo eyed Aubrer.

"How strange." Miles murmurred, turning to leave without a second thought.

Aubrer watched him go, and had the irrational fear that he would be forever lost in this aviary. "Wait! I... I had an idea... About bugs..."

Miles stopped, and showed him the smile. The smile learned from a picture book.

Before Aubrer could react, the cuckatoo launched itself at him, and he flailed in terror, bashing Yao in the face. The world spun. No, it rocked, from side to side. Not an aviary, but a boat. Not then, but now. Aubrer lay still, gnawed by confusion and fatigue. "Where?" He blinked slowly. "Where am I?"

PostPosted: Sun Jul 12, 2020 1:34 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
Toad Isle wrote:Before Aubrer could react, the cuckatoo launched itself at him, and he flailed in terror, bashing Yao in the face. The world spun. No, it rocked, from side to side. Not an aviary, but a boat. Not then, but now. Aubrer lay still, gnawed by confusion and fatigue. "Where?" He blinked slowly. "Where am I?"

Yao fell back onto the deck of the ship, swearing in two languages as he mixed the curse words that he'd picked up from his Atlantian father and Yamese mother. Other deckhands turned towards the sound of the commotion. As quick as he was down, Yao was back up with balled fists, ready to return the favor to this man, who he had just saved from drowning in the ocean! But he stopped short. The man seemed more confused than belligerent, and Yao supposed he couldn't blame him for lashing out on instinct. So instead he approached slowly, cautiously.

"You're on a fishing boat," he said. While his foreign blood was obvious in appearance, his command of the Atlantian language was without a notable accent. Any hint of his Yamese heritage had been ruthlessly punished by the teachers at the small school where he'd learned a basic grasp of speaking and writing in the Atlantian language. "You were in the water," Yao explained. "Your ship sank. We found you and rescued everyone we could."

PostPosted: Sun Jul 12, 2020 6:12 pm
by Toad Isle
Aubrer's senses were rubbed raw. Salt pickled his tastebuds, smoke pinched his eyelids, sea pitched his eardrums, strain pinned his muscles, and sweat pierced his nostrils. Yao slid into view, too loud and bright and strange. Atlantian bound everything together, like a tourniquet.

"You're on a fishing boat ... Your ship sank. We found you and rescued everyone we could."

Aubrer nodded weakly. Flaking lips croaked out, "We flew in the sky... Then, we fell... The sea rushed up at us like... Like..." The memory of a magazine hitting his face. "Like a mountain spa."

Where Yao's Atlantian was clean, Aubrer's Atlantian was gooey, wobbling with Toad Isle sounds. Now, it gave way to panting. Clouds parted, and a coin flashed in its pile. Aubrer blinked rapidly, struggling to catch his breath. "You... Want... Money?"

PostPosted: Wed Jul 15, 2020 7:44 pm
by Danceria
Aboard the Mother of Mary



Had Rev. Galanis realized the musings of Capt. Beauregard, believing that the proper title for the Mother of Christ was in fact a pagan deity-well, needless to say the poor captain's ears would be spared, though he may have had a sampling in theology if the man sought to excel from his humble standards. To be a fisher of men-as he was doing so now. In fact, the elder was thinking of a witticism-Matthew 18:20 in fact-regarding Atlantia as "God's Chosen Country" prior to someone else receiving consciousness. Shortly thereafter, he excused himself, saying to the captain "We'll have plenty of time to discuss things en route".

Aubrer may have noted the venerable man, robed in deep black and now deprived of a [url=Kalimavkion]rather funny looking hat[/url] that may have caught his eye while waiting or actually riding in the plane. Didn't the bespectacled codger come with a younger man, blond...?

"I think once we reach...Charleston?" Galanis turned to the Yamese gentleman, speaking slowly and clearly for both parties to understand. "Then...we can talk money." The Toad Islander would see the strange man, smiling gently and offering a hand, but most peculiar were the eyeglasses...how could anyone see out of them? They seemed to be two discs of polished silver than opaque glass...

"Can you stand?"



On the Shore of Lemoyne



The boy stopped for a few moments, thinking upon the words that Mr. Scott Gray had stated. Bowing slightly he politely intoned. "Forgive me my trespassing and may the Lord be favorable towards you as you are towards me." came the formal, yet traditional, response towards hospitable persons during unexpected journeys. "I am Theomer Eorlmyn. If you permit me a change of clothes and food in my belly, I will be more than happy to earn my keep and tell my tale."

PostPosted: Thu Jul 16, 2020 7:19 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
Toad Isle wrote:Aubrer nodded weakly. Flaking lips croaked out, "We flew in the sky... Then, we fell... The sea rushed up at us like... Like..." The memory of a magazine hitting his face. "Like a mountain spa."

Where Yao's Atlantian was clean, Aubrer's Atlantian was gooey, wobbling with Toad Isle sounds. Now, it gave way to panting. Clouds parted, and a coin flashed in its pile. Aubrer blinked rapidly, struggling to catch his breath. "You... Want... Money?"
Danceria wrote:"I think once we reach...Charleston?" Galanis turned to the Yamese gentleman, speaking slowly and clearly for both parties to understand. "Then...we can talk money." The Toad Islander would see the strange man, smiling gently and offering a hand, but most peculiar were the eyeglasses...how could anyone see out of them? They seemed to be two discs of polished silver than opaque glass...

"Can you stand?"

Aboard the Mother of Mary

"Flew in the sky?" The man was delirious, or so Yao assumed. Probably too much water in the brain. He did feel a sudden flush of embarrassment when Aubrer saw the pile of coins. Yao knew robbing a man in such a state was wrong, and if this man told the skipper about it he'd be out of a job. He was trying to think of an explanation, something that would absolve him of the crime he was in fact guilty of.

Thankfully, instead another wreck survivor came over and started talking. Of course, he was still talking about money, but at least he might distract the delirious one and give Yao a way out.

"Charlestown, yes," Yao said to Galanis.

Danceria wrote:The boy stopped for a few moments, thinking upon the words that Mr. Scott Gray had stated. Bowing slightly he politely intoned. "Forgive me my trespassing and may the Lord be favorable towards you as you are towards me." came the formal, yet traditional, response towards hospitable persons during unexpected journeys. "I am Theomer Eorlmyn. If you permit me a change of clothes and food in my belly, I will be more than happy to earn my keep and tell my tale."

On the Shore of Lemoyne

"Theomer Eorlmyn, eh?" Scott said the name, awkwardly, feeling the strange combinations of letters in his mouth.

"Heck of a name," Hamish Gray said, wary of this fellow and his very foreign name.

"Well, son, you're not trespassing, so there's no need to apologize," Scott said, shooting his brother a pointed glare. "I'm betting you didn't plan on being in this particular situation. Douglas, go get the horses." He looked back to Theomer as the young boy raced to bring over the horses: the two steeds that had brought Scott and Hamish out, plus the ones that Ross and Douglas had used earlier to head for their usual fishing spot.

"Ever been on a horse before?" Scott asked Theomer. "You can ride with me, it isn't too far."

PostPosted: Fri Jul 17, 2020 2:55 pm
by Toad Isle
Aubrer took Galanis' hand, and reached for Yao's shoulder. Like a carcass in a butcher's window, he was hoisted to his feet. Haemonculi writhed in their silver wells, and Aubrer saw himself among them, perched on Galanis' nose. Yao was there too, tiny and cryptic. Nauseated by effort, and the eyeglasses, Aubrer took several steps away, then struck with dizziness, lurched to the nearest wall, resting his forehead against it. He grunted, and turned to face the others, pressing his back into the painted metal.

"I can... I can stand." He tried to read them, but they were too strange. With few options, he bet on the gentle smile. "But... I need help..." His voice trailed off, strangled by thirst. "Water?"

PostPosted: Fri Jul 17, 2020 4:11 pm
by Danceria
Aboard the Mother of Mary



With a stern nod, Galanis gently placed Auber’s arm over his. In spite of his age, he was once a sailing man himself-although his routes typically trawled for river-fish rather than the open seas. His spectacles, a high tech marvel unlike any the Atalantians had seen before, were gently folded and placed in his pocket, next to a small bible in braille. The elder had taken great care not to look at Auber directly, for if he was distressed by the glinting marvel of technology, he may be even more distressed by the horrendous scars that caused him to be blind in the first place. Galanis had regretted not taking Theomer’s advice in walking with shades, as this pair was an expensive gift from his admirers and defendants.

“Mr. Sailor sir,” Galanis asked Yao. “If we may have some of your water ration, where would we find it?”



On the Shore of Lemoyne



What transpired next could only be proof of Romans 12:8-6, for only a man of Rohan could hold the almost spiritual gift of standing before a beast without fear. He wandered through the half formed herd without hesitation and with practiced precision, seeking out one that he resonated with. Once selected, he made friends with the horse with ease, humbly taking the reins, and mounting the saddle with fluid and practiced motion. It was clear that this boy had been born in the saddle.

“I am from Rohan,” he stated with pride. “And I am no stranger to herding or farmhanding. If my name is too much for you, call me Theo.”

PostPosted: Fri Jul 17, 2020 4:14 pm
by Kuronami
Chaos, darkness, water, blackness, everything was just a blur. Noises muffled, a sharp sense of pain and a loud ringing in her ears. Her eyes darted open as she hastily made her way "up" but up from where, she wasn't sure. Breaking through the surface of a vast ocean of nothing but water all around she let out a very loud gasp of air. "GAAAAAAA." This is the story of Iris Gulch, an 18 year old woman from Kuronami on a trip to go visit her older sister who was at a university and maybe take a tour of the campus while she was at it, see if it was worth going there or maybe staying at home. She honestly wasn't thrilled about the trip, she was seriously not great with heights or flying but a sea voyage would have taken longer and no way she could justify it because as soon as this visit was over she was due back in Kuronami to report for basic training. She was set to begin her compulsory military service by the start of summer in Kuronami (where currently it's winter). Well that is her story but she couldn't tell you that, honestly right now she couldn't tell you a thing about her, she had no idea where she was, who she was, where she came from, how she got in the ocean.

Her mind trying to find ways to block out the pain of her head wound kept going through various stages to try to recall something, anything. Like a computer trapped in an endless rebooting cycle that was drawing up some kind of error. Now it gave up on trying to summon folder: self identity and started thinking other things instead, well namely survival. Something anything that was floating she clung to in the chop. Okay issue solved there but who was she and why was she here? She just couldn't figure this out. Was she a sailor who's ship sunk in a storm? Was she thrown here by someone or something? Well she was dressed, but now wet cold and scared. Nothing else was really on her besides her clothing; any identifying documents were tucked away in her bags which were certainly at the bottom of the sea or drifting away somewhere. Her eyes closed again, was she going to die out here? Right now it seemed likely, well nothing to do but wait to be taken by the sea. But the sea would not have her instead it pushed her ashore somewhere. The tide curled over her near lifeless body as she laid face down in the sand. She had blacked out again as she drifted along the sea and since then her state of consciousness was really blurry and in and out. The sounds of the waves coming and going filled her senses, the salt water and sand up her mouth nose and throat stung and was unpleasant to say the least. She could feel critters crawling over her or birds occasionally coming down to examine her but she just for whatever reason couldn't get the energy to move. She could feel her legs and toes though and felt the cold sensation of sea water running over her so safe to say she wasn't paralyzed, just drained from having to survive. Her lone eye opened but vision was blurry and she couldn't make out anything in this alien world she found herself awashed in. Where was she, who was she and why was she here? She had no answers right now.

PostPosted: Sun Jul 19, 2020 8:26 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
OOC: just a heads up for everyone, I will be unable to post for a few days while I get my keyboard fixed (posting from smartphone now which is not conducive to me writing good). Apologies for the delay, but I’m glad to see other people joining in!

PostPosted: Mon Jul 20, 2020 11:46 am
by Toad Isle
Atlantian Dominions wrote:OOC: just a heads up for everyone, I will be unable to post for a few days while I get my keyboard fixed (posting from smartphone now which is not conducive to me writing good). Apologies for the delay, but I’m glad to see other people joining in!


No problem. Is there anything we can do to help?

PostPosted: Fri Jul 24, 2020 11:11 pm
by Atlantian Dominions
OOC: I'm back!

Toad Isle wrote:Aubrer took Galanis' hand, and reached for Yao's shoulder. Like a carcass in a butcher's window, he was hoisted to his feet. Haemonculi writhed in their silver wells, and Aubrer saw himself among them, perched on Galanis' nose. Yao was there too, tiny and cryptic. Nauseated by effort, and the eyeglasses, Aubrer took several steps away, then struck with dizziness, lurched to the nearest wall, resting his forehead against it. He grunted, and turned to face the others, pressing his back into the painted metal.

"I can... I can stand." He tried to read them, but they were too strange. With few options, he bet on the gentle smile. "But... I need help..." His voice trailed off, strangled by thirst. "Water?"
Danceria wrote:With a stern nod, Galanis gently placed Auber’s arm over his. In spite of his age, he was once a sailing man himself-although his routes typically trawled for river-fish rather than the open seas. His spectacles, a high tech marvel unlike any the Atalantians had seen before, were gently folded and placed in his pocket, next to a small bible in braille. The elder had taken great care not to look at Auber directly, for if he was distressed by the glinting marvel of technology, he may be even more distressed by the horrendous scars that caused him to be blind in the first place. Galanis had regretted not taking Theomer’s advice in walking with shades, as this pair was an expensive gift from his admirers and defendants.

“Mr. Sailor sir,” Galanis asked Yao. “If we may have some of your water ration, where would we find it?”

Aboard the Mother of Mary

“Over this way,” Yao answered. He gestured for the two rescued men to follow him to the foredeck of the trawler, where a tank of water had been dragged out from the galley and opened. For those who could move under their own power, there were simple wooden cups to fill with the cool water and drink. Some of the deckhands were bringing cups of water to those who were still unable to rise from the deck.

Feeling somewhat sheepish for being caught rifling through Aubrer’s pockets, Yao told the two foreigners to wait and he fetched them cups of water where they stood. He offered them out to the two gentlemen, and then a shout from one of his fellow deckhands summoned him. John Beauregard, the skipper of the vessel, saw Galanis and another fellow up and about and made his way over to them.

“I assume this is not the boy you were looking for, Reverend?” He looked like he wanted to laugh at the obvious absurdity of the mustachioed Aubrer being the “Theomer” that Galanis had been asking for when he’d first come to, but he did not.

“I’m John Beauregard, captain of this vessel,” Beauregard said to Aubrer. “I’m glad to see more people up and about. I was worried that we’d just be fishing out bodies, but thank the Lord we seem to have a few live ones.”

“The Reverend here said you were on an aeroplane,” the skipper continued. “Are you two countrymen?”

Danceria wrote:“I am from Rohan,” he stated with pride. “And I am no stranger to herding or farmhanding. If my name is too much for you, call me Theo.”

On the Shore of Lemoyne

“Rohan, eh?” It wasn’t a land that any of the Grays had heard of before. Of course, in the wider scheme of the world most Atlantians knew very little about places beyond their southern neighbors on the continent and the handful of nations overseas which traded with the Confederation. Yet wherever this boy had come from, he seemed to know his way around a horse and expressed a familiarity with a lifestyle that the Grays could recognize. That, plus his tan but still white skin, counteracted the mistrust with which they had been taught to approach foreigners by their society. He seemed to be a Christian as well, which was another point in his favor.

“Well Theo, I wouldn’t worry about earning your keep or anything like that,” Scott said as the party mounted up and began a leisurely ride away from the portion of beach where Theomer had washed up. “At least not yet. If anybody else survived your wreck, they’ll probably turn up in Charlestown in not too long.”

“So, were you on a ship that went down?” Hamish asked, somewhat more insistently this time. “Fall overboard in a storm or something?”

Kuronami wrote:The tide curled over her near lifeless body as she laid face down in the sand. She had blacked out again as she drifted along the sea and since then her state of consciousness was really blurry and in and out. The sounds of the waves coming and going filled her senses, the salt water and sand up her mouth nose and throat stung and was unpleasant to say the least. She could feel critters crawling over her or birds occasionally coming down to examine her but she just for whatever reason couldn't get the energy to move. She could feel her legs and toes though and felt the cold sensation of sea water running over her so safe to say she wasn't paralyzed, just drained from having to survive. Her lone eye opened but vision was blurry and she couldn't make out anything in this alien world she found herself awashed in. Where was she, who was she and why was she here? She had no answers right now.

The Grays and their newfound acquaintance had been riding for maybe five minutes, ten at the most, when Ross Gray shouted that he could see another body on the shore. Scott and Hamish saw it too, and steered their mounts towards the spot.

“If we keep picking up castaways like this, we’ll have enough people to open a hotel,” Hamish joked as they dismounted and approached the body, which thankfully seemed to still have life in it. Scott gestured that Hamish, Theomer, and the others should stay back while he went to inspect things up close. Scott unslung the Lancaster repeater from his back and handed it to Hamish, who seemed concerned about his brother approaching the body unarmed but said nothing.

Scott Gray took tentative steps towards the...it looked like it was a woman, lying in the sand. Yes, definitely a woman, and definitely a foreigner as well.

“It’s a woman,” he called back to his family. “Foreign woman.”

“From your ship?” Hamish asked Theomer, though at this distance the question was more on the side of rhetorical.

Scott knelt down next to the woman, who seemed alive but dazed. “Miss? Ma’am? Can you hear me? You speak English?”

PostPosted: Sat Jul 25, 2020 1:14 pm
by Kuronami
Iris opened both eyes now, sitting up a little with sand and water dripping from her and maybe a hermit crab or two. "I-I...." Did she? Well she was speaking and by their reactions she was speaking English. "I think so..." She moved a little more. "Where am I?" Her attempts to stand were met with a sharp pain. Her leg would show given the rather nasty looking cut down it. Well she did feel a strong stinging sensation. "I--I...." She couldn't seem to muster much words to say because she was still rather dazed and confused from everything that had happen. Just how long she'd been at sea, how long she'd been lying in the sand, she wasn't sure. "I can't remember anything....Do you know who I am? Where I came from?"

PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2020 5:19 pm
by Toad Isle
OoC:

Welcome back!


Atlantian Dominions, Magellanic Ocean

Aubrer shuffled to the foredeck, temptation lighting his way. For a moment, he meant to slip his contraband – the silver belt buckle – into Galanis’ pockets. A risk shared is a risk halved. Aubrer’s fatigue and Galanis’ gentleness conspired against the plan, and in the end, he decided not to. Instead, putting the buckle in his back pocket. He glanced at Galanis’ scarred face, and felt a pang: guilt for intent or regret for inaction?

Before Aubrer could reconsider, they arrived. Yao bustled, and then all his cares fit in a cup. Therefore, Captain Beauregard found him at a disadvantage, licking the last drops of water from his whiskers, and angling his neck backward to do so.

“I’m John Beauregard, captain of this vessel,” Beauregard said to Aubrer. “I’m glad to see more people up and about. I was worried that we’d just be fishing out bodies, but thank the Lord we seem to have a few live ones.”

“The Reverend here said you were on an aeroplane,” the skipper continued. “Are you two countrymen?”


The word "captain" focused Aubrer's attention, and his neck ratcheted to normal. Beauregard... An unknown quantity with unquestioned authority. Aubrer nodded sympathetically to Beauregard's comments, and answered expansively, "I'm Aubrer Delane, from Toad Isle. I only know what I've seen: this man, the Reverend, is a good man, and this ship, the crew, is a heroic ship." Aubrer praised the ship too loudly, so it would be overheard. "I doubt we're countrymen - but we're survivors together." Aubrer puffed out his chest. "Um... Where are we survivors together?"

Toad Isle, Hillspire

The brush parted, tickling fingers, and treacling pearls. Dollops of clear glue, yolked with oyster dew, were scattered. They plopped down, into the calm water, and floated on, ambushed by jellyfish. Domes and stingers, flashing like a storm, and smote by its own sticky hails, which made the creatures into ornaments.

Miles stood by the lip of his aquarium, sifting a bag of pearls, as another might nuts. Into this meditation, music tinkled from afar. When he reached the record player, it was skipping. At its side, an old telephone, with receiver off the hook. Lilac held the air, as though his servants exhaled such.

A fly on the wall might have heard,

“Hello? … Yes. … The airplane? … I see. … Massive scrutiny, I expect. … Well, the trade route is bust now. … Yes. … Aubrer will be flagged by Interpol. … He fits the courier profile: Toad Isle citizen, repeat flights, suspected association with organized crime. … No proof of course, but they may investigate. … The problem solves itself, he’s at the bottom of the sea. … Keep me apprised. … Goodbye.”

PostPosted: Fri Jul 31, 2020 4:42 pm
by Qassadia
Image

Office Of Her Imperial Mejesty



Recipient: Her Majesty Empress Ortfiné Fredericka von Eylstadt of Kuronami
Sender: Her Imperial Majesty Empress Relena Von Peacecraft of Cassadia
Subject: Particular recent event
Encryption: PRIVATE



You Majesty,

I pray that you are in good health and that the Lord may guide your hand in leading your people and country through these trying times that test our Faith and souls.

Upon learning the news of the recent plane disappearance over the East Pacific brought me nothing, but the weights of grief that I am sure to have been piled on, on the shoulders of their families who must be experiencing the indescribable trauma of the potential loss of their children and loved ones. And for that, I would like to express to you my deepest condolences, both to you, your country and the kin of the affected as I and my sisters, and baby brother know what is like to lose the two most important people of our lives. Our mother who passed away in childbirth while trying with all her might to bring into this world a brother whom we would never be able to pamper, coo over, play with and confide and share our joys and sorrows. A fate that caught up with our father several years later when he suffered a massive heart attack to which he succumbed shortly thereafter; after his passing per his will; I had to take up the monumental burden that is being not only a Monarch but also a Ruler in the purest sense after since my ascension to Throne as well as takes command over the reigns of the Crown-Government and command of the Armed Forces and all that came with it.

I know from experience what it is like, to witness the grief that my siblings also had over circumstances that are in a way similar - and for that I as Grand-Marshal of the Armed Forces and Head of the Crown-Government would like to offer to your country in the name of the affected families, a promise to which Cassadia shall commit in earnest if you and your Cabinet are in agreement; for a SAR Task Force that could track, locate and secure the debris of the plane as well as any possible survivors who could be rescued, or at the very least, secure any remains of the persons in question that could be retrieved upon discovery.

The Cassadian Royal Navy thus could contribute the following ships and maritime surveillance vessels and underwater vehicles.

4x Oliver Hazard Perry-class frigate *long hull* (each storing two SH-2 Seasprite LAMPS - multi-purpose helicopters, for SAR operations and surveillance)
1x Multi-role DP2 support vessel (MV Asparuh surveillance vessel)
1x Deep Submergence Rescue Vehicle ASV-28
2x Kawasaki P-1 Maritime Patrol Aircraft
1x modified for maritime surveillance, Bayraktar Tactical UAS
3x FROGMAN diver teams


I pray that the families who were visited by this tragedy find some solace in at least having the remains of their children be returned to them for a dignified burial so that they are to be brought to the mercy of our Lord where they shall find eternal peace.

We may have many differences especially when it comes to morals or in the organization of our political system, but despite that, at the Winter Ball, I saw someone I could see as a friend rather than just an acquaintance or a colleague. I hope you and the Government of Kuronami consider my proposition to aid in your efforts in finding those girls thoroughly. As I have, and prayed over the objections of many of my ministers, to decide on offering you this extended hand of help in putting this tragedy to rest.

Dearest,
Relena
Image

PostPosted: Fri Jul 31, 2020 5:45 pm
by Folaisia
Tagged. Will post something later.

PostPosted: Fri Aug 07, 2020 8:43 pm
by Danceria
Atlantian Dominions wrote:“So, were you on a ship that went down?” Hamish asked, somewhat more insistently this time. “Fall overboard in a storm or something?”

On the Shore of Lemoyne



"Not a ship, an aeroplane." Theo explained, having little issue guiding the horse and conversing with his newfound companions. “My uncle-well, he might as well be my Uncle-the Rev. Stavros Galanis-and Ah were travellin’ o’erseas fer m’ studies, when either by accident or sabotage we crashed into th’ ocean.” Now feeling more comfortable around them, he allowed his more “rustic” patterns of speech to seep into the conversation. Perhaps his “uncle” would have frowned upon Theomer’s neglecting of proper speech, but so far, he was not trying to impress as more to survive.


Atlantian Dominions wrote:Scott Gray took tentative steps towards the...it looked like it was a woman, lying in the sand. Yes, definitely a woman, and definitely a foreigner as well.

“It’s a woman,” he called back to his family. “Foreign woman.”

“From your ship?” Hamish asked Theomer, though at this distance the question was more on the side of rhetorical.



“Probably, wouldn’t know fer sure…” With almost liquid movements, the horse was stayed and Theomer dismounted, upon eying the woman’s injury. He was by her side momentarily.

Kuronami wrote:"I can't remember anything....Do you know who I am? Where I came from?"


“Steady breaths, Miss.” Theomer explained tearing a portion of his shirt-another wasted luxury of Stavros’ patronage, to fashion a bandage. Turning to his companions, he asked “Mr. Gray, do ye have any medical supplies, the lass must’ve been gashed by th’ plane. Saints preserve us if she’s got shrapnel in ‘er…” he explained. While by no means a trained doctor, it seems this young lad was no stranger to First Aid. Once more, he turned to the afflicted lass, eying her appearance. She can’t have been much older than Theomer himself. “Steady breaths...what can you remember?”

PostPosted: Sun Aug 09, 2020 11:33 am
by Atlantian Dominions
Aboard the Mother of Mary
Toad Isle wrote:Captain Beauregard found him at a disadvantage, licking the last drops of water from his whiskers, and angling his neck backward to do so.
“I’m John Beauregard, captain of this vessel,” Beauregard said to Aubrer. “I’m glad to see more people up and about. I was worried that we’d just be fishing out bodies, but thank the Lord we seem to have a few live ones.”

“The Reverend here said you were on an aeroplane,” the skipper continued. “Are you two countrymen?”
The word "captain" focused Aubrer's attention, and his neck ratcheted to normal. Beauregard... An unknown quantity with unquestioned authority. Aubrer nodded sympathetically to Beauregard's comments, and answered expansively, "I'm Aubrer Delane, from Toad Isle. I only know what I've seen: this man, the Reverend, is a good man, and this ship, the crew, is a heroic ship." Aubrer praised the ship too loudly, so it would be overheard. "I doubt we're countrymen - but we're survivors together." Aubrer puffed out his chest. "Um... Where are we survivors together?"

"Well, I appreciate the kind words, Mister Delane. We're just doing our Christian duty, lending a helping hand where it's needed. But anyway, tight now, this 'heroic ship' you're on is the Mother of Mary, out of Charlestown. We were supposed to be out gathering up fish, but it seems we're doing rescue work today." The captain shrugged, world-weariness evident on his sea-worn features. He'd just have to make another voyage and hope the profits covered the fuel he'd spent on this little mercy mission. Thankfully, they didn't have too far to travel to get back to shore.

"When we get back to port, you'll be in the Dominion of Lemoyne," Beauregard explained. "In the Confederation of Atlantian Dominions. From there, you'll be able to figure out how to get back home, or wherever you were going."

The ship's crew by now had finished plucking any obviously living people out of the water. A deckhand interrupted momentarily to inform the skipper, who told the man to go to the driver and fireman and get the ship steaming back towards Charlestown. After a little while, smoke began to puff from the stack and the ship began to move.

On the Shore of Lemoyne
Danceria wrote:"Not a ship, an aeroplane." Theo explained, having little issue guiding the horse and conversing with his newfound companions. “My uncle-well, he might as well be my Uncle-the Rev. Stavros Galanis-and Ah were travellin’ o’erseas fer m’ studies, when either by accident or sabotage we crashed into th’ ocean.”

"A real aeroplane?" Douglas Gray, the young boy, seemed to nearly leap out of his saddle with excitement. "You flew in an aeroplane? I've seen pictures of aeroplanes, I saw ''em in a really old book." Ross Gray, the boy's father, laughed at his son's exuberance.

Hamish Gray rolled his eyes in disbelief. An aeroplane? Those things were ancient history, the stuff of the Secular Ancients. He didn't doubt that they existed, but he doubted that there any flying around near the Atlantian Dominions. Maybe Theo was just telling stories to try and impress them. Scott would say he was being too distrustful, but Hamish thought his brother was too trusting.

Kuronami wrote:
“Miss? Ma’am? Can you hear me? You speak English?”
"I think so..." She moved a little more. "Where am I?"

"You're..." Scott Gray hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. The woman was obviously dazed, and if she was really from the same aeroplane as Theo she'd been through a hell of a journey. So instead of dumping all sorts of names on her, Scott kept it simple.

"You're on a beach, you're safe," he said reassuringly. "Well, you've got a nasty cut on your leg, but we'll get that patched up real soon."

Danceria wrote:
“From your ship?” Hamish asked Theomer, though at this distance the question was more on the side of rhetorical.
“Probably, wouldn’t know fer sure…” With almost liquid movements, the horse was stayed and Theomer dismounted, upon eying the woman’s injury. He was by her side momentarily.
"I can't remember anything....Do you know who I am? Where I came from?"
“Steady breaths, Miss.” Theomer explained tearing a portion of his shirt-another wasted luxury of Stavros’ patronage, to fashion a bandage. Turning to his companions, he asked “Mr. Gray, do ye have any medical supplies, the lass must’ve been gashed by th’ plane. Saints preserve us if she’s got shrapnel in ‘er…” he explained. While by no means a trained doctor, it seems this young lad was no stranger to First Aid.

Scott moved over to give the boy space, since he seemed to move with purpose. "We don't have much of anything," he admitted. "Unless you can work miracles with some of Ross's fishing line. Best to get her back to Caliga Hall and get a doctor to see to her." Scott looked from Iris to Theomer, concern and uncertainty on his face. "You seem to know what you're doing. Do you think she can ride back? Otherwise, we'll have to get a cart or something from the Estate to carry her."