To seek out new life... - Chyril 23rd TT - Quinlan and Guido

[Brytan]

Aveas Gate House
Chyril 23rd - Tradetide

Delivered by airship, the massive, bulky Portal of Aveas was moved and secured inside a tenant residence building just off the Quartermaster's Square. A low, stone building with no second level, the floor of the building was below the surface of the square...and as such, was often subject to flooding when the rains came. To combat this, a platform of iron and wood was constructed to hold the Portal well off the floor, and a sturdy landing stood just before it insuring travelers a few moments of dry feet before they entered the colony.

Like so many Portals designed and constructed in the West, the Aveas Gate was a strange collision of magic and technology that resulted in a very loud, very hyperactive thing that spouted colors, arcs of electricty, gouts of steam, and shreiks from it's many valves and whistles. A series of knobs, levers, and switchs controlled the Portal, directing its energies and choosing its destination. Despite the great complexity and confusion of the gate, the arrival warning alarm was little more than a large piece of rusted pipe that hung nearby such that the ever-present attendants could bang upon it repeatedly with a wrench or a hammer (both tools kept close at hand not only for such a warning, but also to repair the Portal in the event that it should break...a shockingly frequent occasion).

With a lot of noise the machine groaned into action, as the engineers started working feverishly to set up the proper alignment to match the one of the sending portal. The ring of metal started to shiver as sprays of light started springing forth from the copper bindings and the inner circle became a pool of liquid light, swirling slowly in the dim light of the low room, the portal standing solidly on it's pedestal.

Through the front door, down a short flight of steps, a short, burly looking man stepped down to the somewhat soggy floor, quickly making his way up to the wooden platform accompanied by a contingent of guards. Dressed in what seemed to have to pass for "proper attire", it was clear this was a man who was used to work for a living. His hands betraying many yahren of hard labour, his bald head gleaming with sweat from a busy morningtide.
He watched patiently as the portal unfolded before him, the guards wincing somewhat at the menacing racket, he seemed unshaken at the contraption standing before him.

"Hope tha darn th'ng don't blow up this time..."

Warrant Officer LeForestier was ready to receive his clientele.

[Morg]

Sergio Zullo burst out of the portal clutching his stomach. Never again, the young private resolved, as the nausea subsided. Well, maybe once, just to get home. Three months ago he'd made the same trip by airship, and he had to grudgingly admit that this was even faster. He still preferred flying, though. Unlike many people, he didn't get airsick in the slightest.

Glancing at the envoy next to him, he noticed with displeasure that Este Donelli seemed completely unaffected. It seemed that the little diplomat had the same advantage over his fellow men in portal travelling that Sergio enjoyed when in the air. Of course, being in the foreign affairs business and portalling around the world on a regular basis probably helped build up a resistance... but still.

The Condotierre private mutely followed the envoy as he made his way down from the platform to greet the waiting engineer.

[Quinlan Corodin]

The swirling portal soon burped out Lieutenant Corodin, and he stepped quickly to the bottom of the platform with quite a queasy expression. There he stood with his hands on his hips, his hazel eyes intently focused on the ground in front of him. He breathed slowly and deeply in his nose and out of his mouth, working to maintain control of his insides.

Shoulders stooping, it was a few moments before he would look at anything higher than waist-level. He smiled weakly. "The only way to travel," he said in a small voice, then grunted and looked back down again.

Eventually Quinlan rolled his shoulders a bit and tried to shake off the icky feeling. He waved a hand in greeting to the warrant officer, but watched in silence as the others came through. Introductions...talking in general can wait until the rest get here with my stomach, he thought, putting his fist to his mouth like stifling a cough.

[Morg]

Zullo gained some measure of satisfaction from seeing his commanding officer in a similar state to himself, although the feeling was quickly replaced by another wave of nausea. Rolling his eyes heavenward, he failed to notice the quiet arrival of Armand Iocca and Orlando Rao, neither man seeming too badly affected by the portal's depredations. Led by Iocca, the two stepped off the platform and stood smartly to one side.

[Guido Cercatoro]

From Guido’s rudimentary knowledge of anatomy, he was sure that his stomach was not supposed to be located in his mouth. Despite this, it appeared to be making a determined attempt to relocate its contents in that direction as the curator stepped out of the portal. Well that’s it. I have finally lost my portal virginity after all these years. And I fear that’s not all I’m about to lose.

Gulping in as much fresh air as he could manage, the historian made his way quickly down off the platform. His companions appeared to have all arrived safe and sound, although most looked as queasy as Guido felt. He turned and looked through the great orifice, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.

[Morg]

Serafini, beside Guido, was wide-eyed, her breathing deep and slow and her skin tone perhaps a few shades paler than normal. This also brought a measure of satisfaction to Sergio Zullo. Not so cocky now, are you, you self-satisfied brutta. Privately, the private had always been of the opinion that women shouldn't be allowed on expeditions such as this one; not because of their frailty and extra requirements, but because of their sharp tongues, which could easily lacerate a party's morale within burns. With the first words she'd spoken, he knew that she was going to validate his theory. Saying "map maker" as if we were too stupid to know what a cartographer was. Brutta. True, before she'd said it Zullo hadn't had a clue what a cartographer was, but that was beside the point. He spent his time as a student of tactics, not dictionaries.

Last through the portal were Sergeant Ardigo and his cronies. "We're the last," the sergeant announced coolly to the operators. Predictably, there was no sign of discomfort in the statuesque sergeant's face or stance, although the three men with him weren't so fortunate.

[Brytan]

The portal operators gave it a few more flickers before starting the portal's deactivation sequence. They waited a while after the sergeant's comment, as if they half expected some more to come through the portal. Perhaps some luggage someone forgot? After they were satisfied nothing was coming through anymore, they started the procedure to close the gate down, which again came paired with lots of whizzez, bangs, pops, squeels, screeches and a fantastic lightshow for those who cared to watch.

Apparently this wasn't one of the best gates this side of the continent.

After the noise had settled down and the light inside the room had settled back to the dim twilight, provided by a few narrow windows higher up in the wall ahead of the portal platform, and the door which was still open, Warrant Officer Leforestier welcomed the party the best way he could.

"Good ta see ye'r all present. Welcome to Aveas. As per instructions ye'r skiff is wait'n at the docks all geared an r'dy ta go. If ye be need'n a moment, there's plenty of buckets 'long the wall over to ta right. Once ye'r all good ta go, I'll be wait'n for ye up top to show ye the lass."

His appearance hadn't given him much credit for a public speaker. Turns out his appearance was right. He was clearly uncomfortable about the task he had been given, welcoming a party consisting of soldiers and scholars. Not that he was shy. The word shy didn't seem to be present in his vocabulary. He was uneasy voicing sentences where he usually just barked orders at his apprentices.

After his little welcome speech, and pointing to the buckets which indeed sat where he indicated, he walked ahead of the group out of the room. Up the stairs and into broad daylight where he shouted some orders at someone who had also been there. Telling him (or her?) to "prep the barge fer departure".

[Guido Cercatoro]

The shutdown procedure for the portal did nothing to help Guido’s queasy stomach. In fact, the thought that he might have to return through such a ramshackle device filled the curator with horror. I’ll walk back or swim. Oh, no, I’m going to…… Fortunately the buckets were close by and he soon made their intimate acquaintance.

Feeling slightly better, the curator managed a brief smile before picking up his belongings and following Warrant Officer Leforestier up the stairs for the next stage of the journey.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Just when he thought all was well, Quinlan's stomach churned sympathetically as Guido took advantage of the facilities, and he turned his head away with a whispered "blechh." It was a struggle to keep from joining the academic by the buckets.

Deciding he was quite finished with this business of getting sick, the lieutenant was hot on the warrant officer's heels. Seeing the skiff would make him feel better, he knew. I hope they were able to load all the equipment on a day's notice.

Quinlan couldn't help but wonder how the colony on Aveas had been coming along since the end of the war. He had heard few real reports from Aveas since Samheen, and it interested him to think of the process of establishing such a presence. If the condition of their portal was any indication, it must not have been entirely smooth sailing.

Quinlan emerged from below, swiveling his head to take in the surroundings and follow Warrant Officer Leforestier.

[Morg]

Zullo managed to quell his own queasiness, but some of his companions weren't so fortunate. All three of the men who had come through with Sergeant Ardigo rushed to the buckets and emptied the contents of their stomachs into them. In addition, shortly after Guido was finished, the cartographer Serafini suddenly gasped and sprang to a bucket - only to look away in relief after a few seconds of holding herself over it.

The private kept pace with Donelli as the envoy ascended the stairs, following Lieutenant Corodin. Rao, Iocca, Moschini, the blonde-haired Danton and the other private followed close behind. Last were Sergeant Ardigo and the cartographer. The handsome sergeant whispered something into her ear as they walked, and Zullo saw her flush deep red and then put on a disapproving frown.

[Brytan]

The exit of the building was located just a bit to the side of the Quartermaster Square. Once this market square would have been bustling with activity and draped in bright colors.

Now only white banners with the sign of the Eye in gold adorned the buildings. There were small stalls set up for the selling of food or repair skills to the fellow explorer. Mostly though, people were trading not for coin, but for the iron tokens that could be traded for the expedition's limited supply of goods.

Along one side of the square, tents with the symbols of various houses sought men for their ventures beyond the town. They called to those that passed by and offered great reward for hard work.

There was one main tent that bore a wooden sign that read "Quartermaster". Several sharp eyed guards stood before the surrounding smaller tents to make sure the supplies did not go wandering. Within, a skinny man in the livery of the one of the merchant houses of the Mouth sat behind a makeshift table covered in scrolls. Most entered with scrolls and token and left with tools or perhaps a different scroll clutched in their hands. Others entered with goods and left with tokens and scrolls.

Their guide however didn't seem at all interested in the hustle and bustle of the square. He was waiting off to the side a bit, lingering in the shadow of some of the buildings surrounding the square. He had obtained a piece of fruit from one of the stands apparently, from which he had just taken a bite, lazily chewing it until the party had assembled above ground. "Ah, I'see yer all set? They relly sh'ld tune tha thin' better, travel is a right pain in the arse. Me, I pr'fer the sea and the sky and me'thinks ye'll like it much better too once ya see the beauty that awaits ye."

Checking to see if all were ready to leave, he guided his "guests" across the square and down a busy street to where in the distance the masts of ships could be seen rising above the buildings of Aveas. Architecture was quite different here than in the Mouth, and it was obvious, even though Oneist presence was still lingering everywhere, that this city had not been constructed by Dominicus fearing humans. The woodwork and construction of the houses and larger merchant residences was vastly different, even to the untrained eye. And no matter the amount of flags and coats of paint and rebuilding done on some of them, it was still an adhiel city, remembering back to the days of Pan's Isle.

The docks showed far less differences to what they were used to. Having been one of the first places overrun and demolished by zealot Oneist soldiers, it had been completely restored in the image of a "proper" city harbor. The tell tale store rooms and warehouses along the wooden docks, loading and unloading of ships done by men. Where the occasional adhiel had been present in the area surrounding the square, here the presence of the original inhabitants was largely invisible.

Save one tiny detail to the knowing eye...

Along one of the docks, resting slightly above sea level, was a beautiful slender vessel. It stood out among the regular ships because of the colouring of the wood, being a deep brown, almost redish hue. It's sides and masts were adorned with the tell tale mechanics of an air ship, though far more refined as this vessel was substantially smaller than the larger vessels the party was so familiar with. The liftglobe casings were present along the keel of the skiff, crafted out of steel and shaped into sharp ovals to decrease wind resistance. Two sharp wings could be distinguished along the front of the hull, accentuating the shape of the skiff and making the vessel seem "fast".

Regardless of all the details, the woodwork actually seemed to have seen some use. Close inspection would reveal it to have been repaired and painted several times already and the key parts to operate and pilot the skiff were substantially newer than the actual skiff itself. As was the name, which was painted on both sides of the bow in silvery white; "Tal'Fea".

"Li'l joke tha'", Leforestier grinned as he pointed to the name. "Ta piss of the locals ya see? Gives me a giggle every time I see one of them pointy eared Panlings walk by and read tha' name." He boarded the skiff and looked around it, inspecting the mechanics and calling for a few people who had been busy loading the skiff up with supplies and spare parts (judging from the labels on some of the crates that had passed by while they walked up to the Tal'Fea). "You! All set to depart?" A bulky sailor stood to attention, saluted and spoke. "Sir, almost ready sir. Just a few more crates and she'll be good to fly sir!" Leforestier nodded. "Then what're ye standin' ere for, hop to it, don't ave all tide ye'know!"

Work continued.

"Fastest ship I ever worked on. Cuts through air like a hot knife thru butter." the Warrant Officer seemed right proud of saying that. "So, what do ye think gentlemen, ladies? Will she do fer ya?"

[Quinlan Corodin]

To Quinlan, the settlement - or what area they could see of it - seemed like a fort or outpost, and he relished the feeling it elicited. It was as though any able person could strike out and stake a claim. But, the officer understood enough to know that the reality was not so ideal, with at least one glaring problem that was alluded to in the very structure of the buildings. Claim had already been made long ago.

In spite of the ferocity of the last hours he had witnessed from the air, he felt the war had ended awfully abruptly. And now World's Mouth held barely contested dominion, and the adhiel were content for the banners of a foreign god to drape their former city? Something about it had "too good to be true" written on it, even if in fine print. There's much a poor lieutenant is not privy to, I think.

It made Quinlan thankful all over again that Captain Durmore had not assigned him to Aveas itself yesterday.

Talks with Conall from his youth floated back to him as he observed those structures, and moments later the construction of the airskiff. Carpentry had been among the man's many talents, and Quinlan had picked up a thing or two from all the time he had spent with his late grandfather. How were some of these put together? he mused as they passed one building or another. Is that frame cross-lapped? How many hours could it have taken to carve that pattern?

And then there was the skiff - which seemed an awkward name for such a vessel - far more grand than Quinlan had thought. The warrant officer praised the craft, and Quinlan beamed at the thought of cutting a wake away from the docks and lifting up toward the clouds. It would be quite different from travel on the more massive ships of the air flotilla.

"She will do nicely indeed, Mr. Leforestier," was his enthusiastic reply as he passed a hand over the railing. The waves of the water below pulsed against the docks, and his own pulse seemed to keep time. Even after months in the Condotierre, Quinlan did not consider himself a sailing man, but damn if these times were not a joy.

"I do have one question, though," he added, curiosity getting the better of him. "I'm afraid I'll have to ruin the 'little joke' and have you explain it to me. Common is...presently my only language."

[Guido Cercatoro]

The curator gratefully gulped the fresh air as he emerged into the square and quietly followed Leforestier to the docks, using the short journey to compose himself after his stomach upset. Well at least I wasn’t the only one to feel bad.

The sleek slender airskiff that greeted the party as they arrived at their destination took Guido by surprise. He had expected something functional. However, the vessel was a thing of delicate beauty. As a ex-carpenter, of sorts at least, he could not help but admire the workmanship that had gone into the wooden parts of the ship. My brother Camello would appreciate this. He’s never worked on anything like this in his carpentry shop. And to think, I’m finally in close proximity to a Tonklin Piston. I simply must see one in action.

“She’s certainly a beautiful sight,” the curator responded to Leforestier’s question. Hot knife through butter? Sounds rather too fast for my liking. “Er… if you don’t mind me asking, how fast does it actually travel?”

The warrant officer’s comments about the name of the vessel made Guido equally as curious as Quinlan and he waited for the answer with some interest. When bidden to do so, he would board the vessel.

[Brytan]

Leforestier smiled at the questions from both men. He was a man proud of his accomplishments in what he had considered a rough environment to work in from the day the Mouth had taken over Aveas. He beckoned the party aboard as the last of the crates were carried onto the skiff and into the modest hold. From the look of it, aside from a modest cabin which was partly below deck, there was no room on the skiff to actually sleep, aside from the deck itself. The hold's access was a grate near the bow of the vessel, hidden behind the anchor wheel. It seemed to be quite full already. No effort seemed to have been spared to make this ship fast and efficient. There was ofcourse no sign of any armaments, which might be one reason why this ship had to be so fast.

But, regardless of it not being a magnificent war vessel, Leforestier was happy enough to tell his guests all about it.

"Ah, yes, 'fcerse. Pard'n me good sirs. Tal'Fea be the name of this city bef're it was...persuaded...out of Panling hands. Tal'Fea'Taur they called it. Na clue what it means mee-self, but it makes fer a good laugh right enough, eh lads?"

He directed this remark to some of the sailors who were preparing the skiff for departure. Checking the sails and the wings, some noise to be heard from the cabin where some of the mechanics were most likely hidden, the wheel of the ship being placed near the back of the skiff on the cabin's roof. They laughed and nodded, some remarks being passed to and fro about Panlings and their pointy ears and what not. This was obviously not the most racially openminded group of men.

"As fer how fast she goes? Not sure me'self. Last run was before the last mods, took her a tide to circle the isle on a good stream. Did some last flicker work on her, so she might be a tad faster even. We'll 'ave ta see, but I reckon we'll be at..." he paused. "...Innit about time I was told where we're headed?"

Apparently his orders had consisted only of preparing a vessel for the trip.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Boarding the vessel in response to Leforestier’s beckoning, Guido scanned the skiff intently. It was clear that the vessel was designed for speed rather than comfort or fighting. The derogatory comments of the Warrant Officer and sailors concerning the Panlings filled the curator with a feeling of unease, recalling his all too recent memories of the persecution of pagans in the Mouth. For some reason, this train of thought led his mind back to thinking of the achadheil Gianna and he let out an almost audible sigh.

Leforestier’s admission that he neither knew how fast the skiff went nor their destination, made Guido’s already queasy stomach feel stomach unsettled once more. If this thing goes fast, I hope they’ve got more buckets handy. Setting down his belongings on the deck, he waited for the rest of his companions to climb on board

[Morg]

Mio Deus!

Orlando Rao hadn't been hit too seriously by the depredations of the portal, mainly because his head had been in the clouds as he passed through. Still, a band of sweat had formed on his forehead, which he wiped away with the back of a hairy hand. Now he was faced with a problem. He had to reconcile, in his mind, how the thing floating in the sea before him could possibly soar through the air.

Oh, of course he knew the theory... and he knew that ever so much prior experience meant that it should work... but at that moment it didn't seem to make it any more likely that it would. It reminded the young private of tales of flying horses, something which Rao, who had been a stableboy until a few months ago, had never been able to visualise. Horses aren't meant to fly. Neither are boats!

Still, it was something he'd have to accept. Rao was smitten with the idea of representing his city - his new nation - in the diplomatic arena, and the airships were a means to that end. As long as he stuck close to Iocca, he told himself, he'd be fine. From what he'd heard about the shaven-headed Condotierre, the man had yahren of experience in the air. Ardigo was something of a legend among the troops, too, despite his youth. The sergeant had somehow procured himself a piece of red fruit from one of the stands and was munching it in a leisurely fashion.

The envoy was speaking to Leforestier. "Of course, Warrant Officer. My apologies." He smiled. "We are to fly... north-west, was it?"

"West-north-west," corrected Serafini quietly.

"West-north-west, towards the mountainous... ah... peninsula," Donelli finished. "The ring of mountains that lies up the coast from here. We are to fly over the top of them and attempt to make contact with its rumoured inhabitants."

[Quinlan Corodin]

Quinlan found the joke of the ship's name to be a little anticlimactic, and the attitude the crew seemed to be exhibiting wasn't the most desirable for a first contact mission. Ah well, suppose I should be glad the skiff's name wasn't some adhiel slur or curse. Let them see to the ship, and we will see to the island's people.

His pity for Aveas's own native populace was small. The lieutenant had nothing against adhiel as a people, but having met or known only a few, he did not have much for them either. Mainly, he felt that when it came to the bygone war, none were totally innocent.

But mostly the Tal'Fea seemed to Quinlan like it could do with a more fitting name.

Leforestier's apparent ignorance of their destination was a surprise. The mission had been handled thus far with a degree of secrecy that Quinlan couldn't follow. Why would a diplomatic mission be kept so under wraps? Are we so worried that the Empire will find out and send emmissaries of their own? Or is it something else yet...

Regardless, the officer remained silent for the time being, deferring to Envoy Donelli to divulge as much or as little as he wished to the warrant officer. In the meantime, Quinlan could observe the crewmen as the prepared the ship, and the rest of the team as they boarded.

[Brytan]

"Sir, the ship is ready for departure sir!"

One of the deckhands came to LeForestier and reported the status of the Tal'Fea. Indeed, upon inspection the cargo had been safely tucked away in the hold, the rigging and machinery seemed to be in fine shape and everything looked like they were ready to cast off.

"And we have a heading too, so e'rything is good to sail."

He looked to see if his guests were ready to cast off. The dock workers who had helped load the ship were now disembarked, leaving a few sailors and the warrant officer as it's flight crew. The Tal'Fea measured a good fifteen meters in length, and about half of that in width, so there was plenty of room to move about, while the crew moved into position, awaiting their orders.

"Ladies, Gentlemen. I trust we're all ready to set off?" He looked around the company of travellers, making sure that all of them were good to go before dishing out his commands. "Then by all means, find ye a nice spot ta sit. On a good wind, we'll be there in two marks."

"LADS! LISTEN UP YA SWARMY BUNCH!"

LeForestier moved up the narrow flight of stairs leading to the navigational panel, holding a compass, the wheel and a set of controls to man the wings and lift globes.

"HOIST THE ANCHOR, LOWER THE MAIN SAIL, UNLATCH THE FEATHERS!"

The sailors, five in total, rushed to the rigging and the bow of the skiff to do as they were told. The skiff started to move as LeForestier geared up the lift globes from his control panel, tugging at the lines which still held it to the docks.

"CAST OF THE LINES! MR ELIAS, PUSH US OFF!"

One of the sailors grabbed a long pole, which he used to push the skiff away from the dock as the mooring lines were released. The skiff started to ascend almost immediately, after swaying a little on the new freedom. LeForestier had it go up almost vertically, pushing the lift globes to the max, the machinery humming loudly underneath the feet of the Tal'Fea's guests.

"MR REDDING! GO DOWN BELOW AND CHECK THOSE GLOBES, STARBOARD AFT SOUNDS OUT OF TUNE!"

Another sailor rushed through the door leading down to the cabin, and disappeared off to the right into a narrow passage which had been hidden in shadow.
The Tal'Fea held her own as she climbed above the city in a narrow slope, the wind tugging at the sail which was a bright white. Brand new by the look of things. No expense spared for this trip. Beneath them they could see the buildings of Aveas pass by as the skiff picked up speed, it's navigator using the wings now to increase their pitch a little more.

"MACK! HOW'S THE CURRENT?! WE NEED A SOUTH EAST STREAM!"

A voice from higher up in the mast replied a bunch of numbers and coordinates, making LeForestier send the Tal'Fea even higher. They climbed for a good ten burns, LeForestier circling around Aveas in an upward spiral, until the wind grabbed the sail and a broad smile appeared on LeForestier's face.

"That's more like it..."

"ALL HANDS! MORE SAIL, PREPARE FOR SPEED. EVERYONE HANG ON TO YER HATS!"

On the wind, the skiff started to accelerate at a tremendous pace. Within flickers they had achieved a speed of about fifteen knots for the sailors among them, and speed was still increasing as the Tal'Fea left Aveas behind them and a brisk wind carried them North by Northwest, towards the mountain peaks which were now visible over the vast forest which lay in the distance before them.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Quinlan stepped almost gleefully to situate himself nearer the bow of the vessel. He looked forward to seeing firsthand if the Tal'Fea lived up to LeForestier's praise. A smile broke as the skiff lurched free from her moorings, and the lieutenant began to realize that the flight would be very different from the Madrigal.

Two marks! he thought. For some reason, he hadn't expected to set foot on the mysterious peninsula until the next day. But by the sound of it, the day would still be young when the troupe made landfall. Terra Nova is close indeed. No wonder this has become such an urgent matter.

Even as he expected it, the push upward was startling. The warrant officer sent the airskiff climbing at an impressive rate to say the least. The wind whipped through his golden brown hair, and Quinlan beamed, though he had to hunker down to keep steady. His pulse quickened as the ship did, and it felt like totally different air he was breathing as they kept climbing.

"EVERYONE HANG ON TO YER HATS!" Leforestier yelled.

When we return, maybe I should get a hat, Quinlan thought absurdly. If I could get one stretched over my head, it might look sharp.

As they began to stabilize and accelerate toward the mountain range, Quinlan raised himself for a good look at where they were headed, imagining what they might be destined to find. Captain Durmore's description had Quinlan picturing a tribal people. "Simply dressed," the captain had said, and "no visible structures." Perhaps we should all discuss with the envoy what we might be about to encounter.

Nothing wrong with enjoying the ride for a bit, though, he thought happily, and looked back to see how some of the others were enjoying it themselves.

[Guido Cercatoro]

Moving forward to join Quinlan by the bow of the ship, Guido watched the preparations for take off with fascination. Some of LeForestier’s instructions were relatively easy to follow, others unfathomable. Unlatch the feathers? How on earth does one unlatch a feather? What was clear, however, was the steep vertical ascent of the craft as the ropes were cast off and the warrant officer manipulated the machinery. The curator was surprised to find that he was excited rather than troubled by the rise of the craft. Few men have travelled in such a vessel. I must remember all that occurs to record this trip.

As the sail gathered the wind, the felt hat that always attached itself to Guido’s head began to feel the effects and he grabbed it at almost the same instant that LeForestier barked out his instruction to hang on. The rapid acceleration of the craft took the young historian’s breath away. . The same wind that was trying to claim his hat flowed over his face creating a sense of exhilaration. I have spent too long lately reading books in the library. A scientist should be out here having new experiences.

“This is truly amazing,” he commented to Quinlan when they had been moving for a few burns. “Whoever we are seeking out will surely be impressed by this vessel.”

Then, Guido shouted over to the warrant officer. “Where are the Tonklin Pistons? I should be fascinated to see them in action! I have read so much about them.” I can’t believe I’m asking about these things. When did my utter boredom with such devices turn into fascination?

[Morg]

Once he'd stopped gaping shamelessly in each and every direction, Rao noticed that some of the other Condotierre seemed a little ill at ease - not because of the motion of the airskiff itself, but because they were used to taking their fate into their own hands when they flew. All Condotierre who had served aboard an air frigate were trained in maintaining and running them as well as in combat and social skills, so it was a novel experience for some of them to be no more than passengers. Di Corrado was stepping from one foot to the other, and the shaven-headed Iocca was roaming the skiff, absently kicking coils of rope out of the gangways wherever he found them.

Sergeant Ardigo and his friends had taken seats near the aft of the vessel and were chatting away as if nothing untoward were happening. Rao sighed. I wish I could play it as cool as that man. Merda.

Serafini, too, was attempting to appear nonchalant. She had seated herself on the port side of the vessel and pulled a roll of parchment from one of her bags, only to curse a few flickers later as the wind caught it and it blew out of her hands.

Sergio Zullo alone joined the lieutenant and the scribe at the fore, gazing out at the mountains looming ahead.

[Quinlan Corodin]

"Let's hope so," Quinlan said to Guido. "Perhaps this technology will...encourage them to peaceful behavior." The thought suddenly made him wonder. If this is a new island, did it appear before the war ended? He gazed again at the mountain range. Had they witnessed it from afar? Maybe they spied a ship like this already once before.

But the speculation only served to make him uncomfortable. With less than two marks to go before the possibility of encounter, the lieutenant began to feel that a general briefing was in order to prepare everyone.

"Oh, I hope that wasn't something important," he commented, feeling a bit sorry as the wind flustered Carlotta Serafini.

"Yes, it would be nice to see a little more of her," he added absent-mindedly after the curator's shout. He was impressed by Guido's fervor, and could certainly identify with his curiosity about the workings of the airskiff.

"And afterwards, a little meeting," he said to himself. "Where did the envoy end up in the shuffle?" he asked the nearby Private Zullo, looking about the deck for Donelli.

[Brytan]

LeForestier kept busy on the aft side of the vessel, piloting the Tal'Fea to a height he felt comfortable with until the ship settled out and started to make speed. Below them they could see the green isle of Aveas shoot by, the shores in the distance to the west and east, the city of Aveas now to the south and up in the north of the isle the ragged peaks of the Gulanadur mountains, with a little to it's southwest the oddly formed wall of rock that hid Terra Nova from their sight.

After the man felt confident his ship was steady enough, he looked at the men who had joined him. His crew seemed able but his eyes had not missed the fact that his guests, most of whom had served many tides on air ships themselves, seemed somewhat bored.

"So, any of ya lads feel confident enough to take the helm while I give our guests a little tour of the lass's innards?!" He yelled, while beckoning the man he had referred to as Elias to the helm to keep an eye on it as he walked down the stairs onto the main deck and towards Guido and Quinlan.
He nodded to the two men as he looked out over the railing to the mountains before them. "We're hav'n a good wind, should na take long." He caressed the wood of the rail as if holding a baby in his arms, gentle and loving. "She's a real bute. And I understan' ye wanna see her guts, right? Then by all means, follow me gentlemen." He turned a moment to his other guests, those he knew did not care about piloting the ship or handling some base tasks, the women more precisely. "Would ye also be interested in a little tour?"

LeForestier awaited their response before guiding the interested parties to the door leading to the captain's quarters. As they entered they could tell that there were actually two small rooms at the back, one who's door was open, a long desk and chair in the middle covered in navigational charts which seemed somewhat out of place given the short trip they were undertaking. The other room was closed. To the right of the narrow passage to both rooms was a niche, stairs leading a few steps down before turning back towards the bowel of the Tal'Fea, sounds of machinery could be heard from within.

He walked down the narrow steps which led into a dark and broad room, fairly low. There was hardly any room to stand. It was nothing like the engine room on a larger vessel. The only reason this path was here was for maintenance purposes only. LeForestier, being rather short, could only just stand upright. To the right and left of the room were two rather large tubes, with metal pipes and shafts exiting on either side. A lot of hissing and sounds of clunking metal paired with the movement of the drive shafts which made up the Tonklin pistons. They were rotating slowly, so the noise was not deafening, but still clearly present being so close to them.

"This ere be the Tonklin Pistons. This ship has two, while yer larger ship might have more. Them be fairly small too, as the Tal'Fea is ne large, and has good sails and wings to manouvre." He pointed to the drive shafts and the point where they entered the pressure chambers. "Ya see how the shafts pump in and out a there, right? Tha's where the power is built up by heatin' an coolin' air to make power for the propeller in the aft of the ship, just behind the rudder. Ye might have seen it, though ours be failry small again." LeForestier kept mentioning the size of the parts, seemingly used to far larger contraptions.

To their right, somwhat ducked in a corner in the darkness they could see the shape of a man fiddling with something that was latched on to the hull.

[Guido Cercatoro]

“A tour of the ship would be fascinating,” the curator replied to the Warrant’s Officer's offer and he eagerly followed LeForestier into the innards of the vessel. Being on the tall side, Guido was forced to stoop when the party reached the low room which contained the pistons.

Listening to the Officer’s explanation of the operation of the vessel, Guido’s mind wandered back to recall the details of the book he had read on pistons. The book had been entitled Tonklin Pistons: A Functional Specification and very functional it was. Before developing his fascination with pistons, the aspiring scientist had deemed it the single most boring book in the Library. In fact, it was probably the most turgidly written book on the planet. It was written by three eminent members of the Thermodynamics staff of the Nashorn Institute - Torrian, Levoine and Monacco. Little did they realise that they had invented a cure for insomnia, for a mere two pages of the book are sufficient to induce a coma in most sentient beings. But perhaps it is the fate of all academics to produce such books, for the more I study the more I seem to understand and admire the work.

I ought to ask an intelligent question as I asked for this tour. “So, if I understand correctly, there are two magical plates within the pressure box which provide the heat and cold, whilst a third plate traps off either end to ensure that the hot and cold phases alternate.” Well that sounded moderately like I know what I’m talking about, I hope. “Does it take a lot of magical power to propel a vessel of this type or is it much less than would be required for a larger vessel?” As he spoke, the curator noticed the man fiddling with something on the hull. “Is this fellow helping to operate the pistons?” he pointed out the man to the Warrant Officer.

[Quinlan Corodin]

Quinlan stood slowly, looking out to their heading a moment more before following the warrant officer for their tour. LeForestier extended the invitation to others on deck, and Quinlan waved encouragingly for them to join.

He stooped low after Guido into the lower levels. He wasn't a stranger to the cramped spaces aboard airships, but being used to it didn't make it any more comfortable for the tall fellow. The engine room did make up for the trip, however. Quinlan remembered how easy it had been to fall asleep to the thrumming of the pistons on the larger Madrigal. The sound was oddly relaxing.

"Well, mister Cercatoro, you do seem well up on airships," the lieutenant commented, impressed by Guido's questions. "Have you studied at Nashorne as well?

As LeForestier pointed out the different components and answered Guido, Quinlan thought of a question of his own. "Is there talk of a ship design like this one that utilizes additional pistons? If it could bear the weight, perhaps she could travel even faster?"

"Ah yes, let's see," Quinlan said quietly, looking as Guido pointed to the figure in the corner. Engineer, perhaps? Hands on hips, he moved over to take a look.