Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Skye had an almost maniacal smile on his face as he walked out of Cait's cabin. He'd already started working on a plan in his head, and was sure the other two were going to hate him for it. Especially if they were squeamish of heights and jumping off things.
"Thrak, was it?" he said, turning to the big man and offering his hand. That was still a thing, right? Even for pirates? "Cait tells me you're an engineer? Are you familiar at all with Advanced Steamworks or Tesla Tech?" If not, he sure hoped the big man could figure it out. Skye wasn't even sure, himself, how the ship worked. He'd always had a crew with him when he'd taken the ship out. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention to the briefing, but technical things always made his eyes gloss over. Who cared how something worked as long as it did.
"Lorraine, good to be working with you again, I was sorry to hear about Felix," that was genuinely true, and he hadn't heard about it until recently. After he'd been shot in the head, a lot about that night was quite fuzzy. If he remembered anything at alll, it was only in flashes of incomprehensible images. He also knew that Cait had so far kept them apart, to lesson the chance of someone recognizing either of them. Perhaps a bit overcautious but warranted. The first time he'd even seen her was at Cait's speech after the bombing. "You know as well as I do, how many guards will be on the EIRAL ship dock, especially with a war starting, but I have an idea on how to get past it that I'm sure you're going to hate. Do you recall anything about the wingsuit project?"
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jan 23, 2016 11:27:27 GMT
Thrakazog walked out of Cap'n Cait's cabin with the others. Apparently, this eyepatch-wearing pirate was to lead them on this bizarre mission, but at least Lorraine was with them. Out of all the people of Lodan, he trusted her the most, which was no mean feat given how little actual time they'd spent together.
It was a hard thing to quantify, his trust of her. There was no one thing he could put a finger on, and no single quality in her that stood out. If one thought about it overmuch, she was a pirate, and pirates, as a general rule, were not the most trustworthy of folks on even the best of days. But ever since he'd met her, she'd looked out for him in an almost sibling-like manner. Thrak never had a sister, but imagined this must be what it was like.
He hefted his large toolbox in one hand, and when offered, used his other hamfist to shake the offered hand from this leader... this, 'High Commander Skye', as Lorri had called him. The man asked his name, and Thrakazog nodded as he clasped hands. "Yubyub. Thrak," he affirmed with aplomb. But when it came to the other questions, Thrakazog's own answer was probably far less clear. He replied intelligently enough, "Ummm..."
He'd certainly heard of advanced steamworks, and he'd dreamed of tesla tech. But he certainly had never seen it first-hand, or worked with it. Thrakazog, not knowing a thing about the objective of their mission, wondered why the man would ask such a question. At least he treated Lorri well enough. The man seemed very polite. But Thrakazog's eyes narrowed as this Mister Skye spoke of something called a wingsuit.
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Jan 23, 2016 22:15:09 GMT
Lorraine had filed out of the Captain's cabin after both her ex-commander and the Mountain then watched as Skye turned to make acquaintance with Thrakazog. "Thrakazog is quite knowledgeable when it comes to such things," cut in Lorraine. He knew his way around the engines of the ships they had been staying on, that much was clear when they had spent time together and he had been teaching her. A hand of her's came up to pat the large man on the bicep. "I have faith he will be quite helpful on this mission, High Commander." When the conversation drifted her deceased fox, she lowered her gaze and gave a curt nod before looking up once more.
"Everything works out the way it does for a reason. You are alive and that is all that matters." In the end Skye would make a larger difference in the world than Felix as much as the loss pained her, but that was a thought that helped her cope.
The next question brought the woman to cringe. She remembered the projects--and she disliked the idea of them. Lorraine was a particularly level headed woman. She feared very little within reason. Snakes, spiders, combat, potentially dying by being run through with a sword? Those did not scare her. Heights were a different matter. The woman loathed them but would do what was necessary. With a restrained unfortunately, she answered, "I do. I think EIRAL's flagships were really the only advantage EIRAL has on Sveden and with just three I am certain they have them very well guarded... are you planning to use the wingsuits to get on...?"
He was alive, but he certainly hadn't felt that way following the rescue. The losses they'd taken and the amount of resources expended to get him back on his feet were continuously mounting. It was about time that he put something back in the coffers. Perhaps that was the reason he was still alive, to help use an EIRAL resource like the Prometheus to do some good in this war. Alistair was hardly a tactical genius and Skye was sure the man was going to try and fight this war as he always did, from the shadows. Sveden was not, however, an enemy one could manipulate into creating their own downfall.
"Right," Skye said to Thrak and watched Lorraine's reactions towards the man. Was there a fondness there? If so, he was glad she was finding a way to make friends in this new place. For him, there was an appeal to the chaos, but he wasn't sure she was wired that way. "Well, if Lorraine says you know your stuff, I'll trust you'll be able to figure it out, but if there's any brushing up you need to do before hand, we'll have a few days before the mission to prepare. And, for god's sake, stop calling me High Commander," he flashed Lorraine a grin, "Skye will do fine. I'm no one's commander anymore."
"Now, as to the wingsuits, that may be a bit tricky. We'd need someone to get the plans out of the file room and to build the darned things. I know Amon's people will probably be willing to help in exchange for the tech, but we'd still need to get the plans out. They were never high on the priorities list, what with the threat of Sveden lurking on the horizon." Instead funds had been diverted to some secret project up north. Skye was supposed to have had a briefing on that little project, but Alistair's little double cross had happened first.
Last Edit: Jan 24, 2016 8:41:38 GMT by Faolan Skye
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jan 25, 2016 17:21:02 GMT
Lorrraine's hand upon his arm was enough to keep him from getting too nervous. She had a very calming influence on him, even if she had more faith in his 'knowledge' than he did. She was right that he knew engines - at least enough to maintain them - but when it came to tesla technology, he was completely lost. He knew it existed, and he knew the general gist of what it did - the power. But details? He'd probably electrocute himself before he even got near a power converter, much less understand exactly how the electricity was harnessed and then transferred to the engine.
He raised a finger to interrupt her, but she must not have noticed it because she continued to talk, discussing a lost friend or something, and then the mysterious wingsuit. Either that, or she ignored him on purpose. Either way, Thrak lowered his finger and listened as the new commander replied.
The man identified himself Skye, and asked to be called that instead of 'Commander', which Thrakazog was only too glad to do. And Sky also seemed confident that Thrakazog could do whatever needed to be done on this venture, solely on Lorraine's say-so. He wasn't so convinced, but he promised himself he'd try his best. He just needed to figure out how he was going to gain access to advanced steam and tesla tech before then.
And then, he had a thought - which wasn't altogether uncommon for him, but was unusual in that it pertained to the current situation. "Me tink me will go down to da engine room in dis here ship, and see whut me can learn. It prolly da same as da ship we iz gonna get, yub. Dat's a good idea, yub Lorri... Mister Skye?"
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Jan 26, 2016 6:06:10 GMT
Lorraine had missed the raised finger and caught it a moment too late as she continued on with talking. She would have to make that up to Thrakazog later but she wanted him to be confident in his skills, she reasoned to herself. The suggestion that came forth from the darker man brought her to raise her brows. "That sounds like a brilliant idea, Thrakazog!" And it truly was. An airship was similar in build and engines almost anywhere and differed in how many pistons the engines had or the shape... right? Or she was wrong entirely, she knew very little about the marvels but in the Mountain's hands she was sure he could decipher the functions in the time they would have to prepare--then came the issue Skye had mentioned.
"Well, erm, uh. S-Skye," she hesitated with the name. How odd it was to be calling her higher ranking officer by his name--how odder it was that they were technically by all means equals now, and odder yet that they were pirates. "I think you are right in that Amon's men and women would be more than happy to build them for the tech which I do not think is all that bad of a trade. The suits are not that much of a threat outside of military levels that I fear the public having them... How do you propose we get the schematics? Wait! I might be able to contact Gladys Hayden. If she is still willing to be my eyes and ears in EIRAL I can have her steal them for us."
Yes that made perfect sense, he should certainly take a look at the engines of Cait's ship. Though there were like to be more surprises from the EIRAL airship, most of the engine systems were likely to be the same, but then he knew next to nothing about engineering. Piloting, on the other hand...."I think I'll agree with Lorraine on this one, it sounds like a brilliant idea. Though I wouldn't take anything apart in case Cait actually wants to use the ship," he grinned to accent the joke. Cait wasn't likely to undock the ship without telling anyone, though it would be amusing. There was an image in his head of Thrak on the floor with the engine in pieces looking completely innocent.
But back to the matter at hand. "Gladys Hayden..." he trailed off, trying to place the name. Had to have been someone who joined after his incarceration. Eyes and ears. That reminded him of what Amon had let slip about the man spying on Alistair. Though the passive nature of his tech didn't really give them an ability to actually steal something from the file storage. "If you think she'll help, then by all means. The project was scrapped, so it won't be in the secure storage with the other secret projects. Pretty simple to get into the file room and walk out with a folder without arousing suspicion." he nodded a few times, "Well, it sounds like we have a plan. If there's nothing else, you can contact me again once you have the files in a day or two. I'll do a bit of recon in the mean time, maybe pay a friend a visit."
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jan 30, 2016 16:00:32 GMT
Thrakazog scratched his head in mild confusion. 'Brilliant idea' and his name, were not often spoken in the same sentence, unless someone was saying it'd be a brilliant idea to toss him overboard.
But his two allies appeared genuine, and so he nodded affirmatively with a verbal 'Yub yub' to accompany it before he bent to pick up his heavy toolbox as if it weighed no more than a loaf of bread. He then turned, looked for Caitlin's first mate, and upon seeing him headed in his direction. He briefly explained his situation, and desire to see the airship's engines, and after consideration, Harold took Thrakazog down into the ship's hold, through some doorways, and to one that looked very similar to the Dauntless, Caitlin's seafaring vessel that Thrak was stationed on. The reason it looked so similar was because of the pegboard just outside the door, that housed a number of pairs of goggles and gloves.
Thrakazog went about the process of attaching two pairs of goggles together (one just never quite got around his thick skull), as Harold beat upon the door with a fist, shouting, "Francois! Open up! Visitor!"
Within a moment or two, the sound of a latch being drawn preceded the opening of the door, and the revelation of a very short, wiry, young man. The dark-haired fellow wore a pair of the goggles, and a pair of heavy gloves that looked like they were made for larger hands. His youth was further defined by a very minimalist goatee, and thin mustache - both of which were coated in a light film of some kind of oil. Standing at about four feet, ten inches, the man looked out and up at Harold, then at Thrakazog, where his goggles tilted up, and up, and up. In a thick accent, and a relatively high-pitched voice, Francois said, "Cor! But you're a gras one! Wot's zees about?"
Harold quickly explained that Thrakazog was one of the Captain's engineers from one of her seagoing vessels, and that he needed to see the engine room of an airship in preparation for an upcoming mission. Francois cursed something unintelligible, but nodded and waved Thrak in. Harold left them to go back up top while the two engineers got acquainted.
"Ug dere, youz. I am Thrak - yub," the big man introduced himself as politely as usual, but Francois waved him off, as if the information wasn't important enough to be spoken aloud.
"For zee moment, you ahre seemply, 'you' - or 'hey you!' eef you ahre doing somezing wrong," he reprimanded Thrakazog in return. Francois certainly wasn't an overly friendly fellow to strangers, and seemed bothered by the fact that he had to play nanny to an ocean-going, sea-snake like Thrak. The only reasons he spoke to the big man at all were because he wasn't a mere land-lubber, and he served under Captain Cait. "So you ahre heer to learn of zee majesty zat ees tesla, oui? What do you know of eet so fahr?"
Thrakazog set his toolbox down and began to explain, "Welp... me know dat da tesla is electr... eluctri... it's da power dat goes in place ob da steam to drive da engines. It's like lightnin' all wrapped up in a..."
"SHUSHSHUSHshushshush shush!" Francois cut Thrak off, animatedly waving his arms in the air to silence the large man's explanation. He seemed to be so angry and upset, that he began to stutter, "YOU... you do naht understand zee technology you ahre blabbering on about! I... I... I have gone to uneeversitee! I... have studied for YEARS to be able to harness zee energee zat is Tesla! And what... what does zee Captain sink I can do with wiss... wiss an eediot like you?! Eet would take me YEARS to eeven..."
At first, Thrakazog cringed under the verbal ranting of the Chief Engineer, thinking the man was going to physically lash out at him. But after Francois went on for a time, Thrakazog hesitantly offered, "Ummm... me thought youz was a smartee-fartee, Mister Francois... dat a smart guy like youz could teach even a rock sumting."
Whether it was the respectful address of his name, the fact that he was making a man of Thrak's size cringe, or the appeal to his intelligence, Francois froze in mid-gesture. His angry face, mouth open, stopped cold for a full moment, before it visibly transitioned into something introspective and authoritative. In a much calmer voice, and without all the gesticulating, he said, "Zat is true, what you say. I ahm somezing of a geenius. Very well. Stay close, touch NOSSING I do not tell you to, and pay attention! I weell not be repeating myself! Now! Come! Zeese are zee batteries..."
Francois led Thrakazog deeper into the Irondread's engine room, educating the large man as best he could. He quickly realized Thrakazog's grasp of language did not equate to his ability to comprehend complex ideas when it came to the inner workings of airships and tesla technology, but how could he not? He was, in fact, every bit the genius he thought he was. And whether he was working on the grandest ship in Caitlin's fleet, educating a dullard, or assessing a person, Francois was confident that he was smarter than just about anyone else at any given subject. And he would have taken personal affront if he was unable to teach the big man. Thrakazog wasn't impossible, he was merely a challenge to be overcome.
As for Thrakazog, he paid close attention, and asked many questions. He might not understand every part of the engines or why they worked together, but he did grasp how the various components operated with one another - enough that he could probably change one out and replace it with another, and not electrocute himself in the process. Still - it was a lot to learn all at once - the tesla technology, the process of filling the balloon, using the sails, and managing the ship's air engines like rudders. It all came naturally to him, and he quickly absorbed the information given like a sponge. But his brain felt like it was filled to capacity, and still, Francois fed him more.
Yet every night, as he went to sleep - in the engine room, no less - he had the widest grin upon his big face.
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Feb 2, 2016 0:12:01 GMT
With a plan in mind and a limited time frame, the three parted ways to carry out their designated tasks. Lorraine had left the ship and made back for the docks before she would find her way into the city. Contacting Gladys was the hardest part of Lorraine's plan and had ended up taking a majority of the day to do so. However, once the mousey woman had been reached it was only a few shared moments they would have to discuss the plan and for the brunette to explain to the woman that the plans she needed were not at all important to EIRAL any longer. After all, they had been scrapped.
Lorraine, however, was not truthful as to why she needed them. Given a day to retrieve the plans, the two had agreed to meet later allowing for Lorraine to practice with her swords until it was time to collect the schematics and meet with her allies. On the second day Lorri returned with her gear and the plans to offer Skye, hoping she was not too late with them.
Skye arrived back at the appointed meeting time with a smile on his face. He'd just come from a very fruitful meeting with Edel. His plan for her was simple, have her people spread rumors of a rationing of food at the EIRAL airship dock on the night they were set to steal the ship. Such a crowd would do wonders to distract the EIRAL guards and make sure none of them were watching the sky. Of course he'd had to explain to her what he was up to. He wasn't exactly sure what she'd do with that information, but he was certain he would owe her a favor in the future, and probably a big one at that if she knew exactly what this new addition to the Brotherhood fleet meant.
"Good evening," he said, as he approached Lorraine. She didn't have the look of one who had failed in their task and were dreading the bad news they had to give, so he assumed all was well, though Lorraine had always been hard to read. "I trust all went well?" he added with a smile. He scanned the area, looking for a trace of their large companion, hoping the man had always met with success. It had been a few days, lots of time to soak up knowledge...and have a few doughnuts, in his case.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Feb 5, 2016 17:29:47 GMT
Almost on cue, Thrakazog appeared, emerging from the belly of the airship like a clown emerging from a car at the circus. Shipbuilders never quite anticipated someone of Thrakazog's size to be coming and going on their vessels. He was carrying his heavy toolbox in one hand, but that's where the similarities of his appearance from a few days prior stopped.
He was wearing goggles on his head - two pairs, actually, strapped together to fit his big noggin. And he had on some heavy-duty rubber gloves that covered his meaty hands and half of his forearms. A think film of greasy soot covered every inch of him that wasn't covered by clothing or the goggles, making his eyes appear brighter than they otherwise might have, given the dark areas around them. But he wore a big smile on his face, and waved one big hand that held a massive wrench in it, nearly clocking himself in the head as he did so, while making it appear that the tool weighed as much as a twig. He cheerfully greeted his cohorts, "Ug dere, youz!"
He clomped over to them, set down his box of tools, and the wrench alongside it, and then used his gloved hands to lift the goggles from his eyes so he could see more clearly. "Francois taught me sum tings, yub. Him sez me nub a Tesla engineer yet, but dat me hab a good start cuz of him. Dat's guud, yub?"
It was true - the three days had been arduous, as Francois attempted to shove as much knowledge into Thrakazog as he could, in the very short time he was given to instruct the unusual student. And for the most part, Thrakazog had been a sponge - grasping ideas that gave more 'educated' engineers-to-be trouble. The burly, sea-going giant might have trouble speaking three-syllable words, but he certainly understood how engines worked. Francois even said at one point, that he was impressed... but he wouldn't let Thrakazog leave the engine room until he was confident that the big man wouldn't embarrass him by 'messing something up'. It would have reflected badly upon Thrak's instructor, after all, and that concept was impossible to imagine.
At least, Francois was confident Thrakazog wouldn't electrocute himself, given the first opportunity.
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Feb 6, 2016 2:57:08 GMT
Upon seeing Skye, Lorraine smiled and greeted him in turn, "Good evening, H--...Skye." Calling him anything else than High Commander felt foreign on her tongue but she disregarded the thought as she dipped her hand into her satchel. "Very," she confirmed as she produced the schematics folded neatly. "I hope that I am not too late with them, however. I wonder how Thra--" Just as she was about to speak the friendly giant's name, he appeared. The smile that formed on her lips was brighter though she felt it due in part to that Thrakazog was a person she never had to address in a formal manner where as Skye was a man she still viewed as her former leader. "Good evening, Thrakazog. I have faith in that you will do fine on this mission, Thrakazog." Though admittedly she was a touch concerned. The entire scenario was a strange one. Two ex-soldiers and a large man who worked with steam boats more so than air ships trying to steal an airship.
"Ah, Thrakazog," she called suddenly as she offered the plans to Skye then dipped her hand back into her satchel for a scrap of cloth. "You have a little something on your face," continued the brunette as she stepped closer to the other then stood on the balls of her feet, since he was so tall, so she may wipe at the soot. "Skye, I am sure you have a clear plan in mind now, yes? How will we be going about this," inquired the woman as she folded the cloth in on itself to present a cleaner side when the other had been too coated in the grime from cleaning the other's face.
Amazing, everything was going according to plan and that was an achievement in itself. Lately he wasn't used to that. What with the awful disaster that had been his plan to deal with Alistair and his attempt at dating Caitlin. Things had worked out in the end, though. He still had his life, and things were looking up in the love department. He was in a position to really stick it to his enemy by stealing this ship.
"Things seem to be looking up," he said, offering a smile to each of them. He extended a hand to take the plans from Lorraine, knowing just the person to bring them to. It would be at least another week before they were ready, but patience was a virtue in this game. "Next we get these made. I'm sure mingo's is going to need measurements of all of us. After that we'll need to practice making the landing, but until then I suggest you both get comfortable with parachutes. If you've never jumped off something, you've got about a week."
He smiled at them both, with the look of someone who was completely oblivious that anyone might not be comfortable jumping off things. It had been some time for him, but he'd never felt more alive then when he was jumping from an airship into battle. The feeling of freedom just before pulling that chord and gliding gently to the ground, or landing hard, into a roll. Firing his weapon to the shocked look of the enemy. The good old days, and the bad old days at the same time.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Feb 12, 2016 12:18:43 GMT
Thrakazog liked the way that Lorraine said his name. He couldn't tell if it was the way she enunciated the consonants, the way she held the vowels, or just the way the three syllables flowed from her lips and tongue. It didn't hurt that she had all her teeth either. He remembered one poor fellow he knew when he was younger - the man barely had four teeth in his head, and it was rumored that three of those were shared among his family members. His spitting, sloppy lisping of 'Thrakathog' was just awful. Lorraine had a way of making it sound almost regal in contrast.
As she daubed the grime from his face, he bent over to assist her reach, even though it was highly unlikely that any amount of cloth she could carry on her person would entirely remove the mess. He needed a bath - badly. Usually, when shipmates got in his shape, they were tossed overboard to let the salt water do the majority of the work - and a scrubbing sponge was usually tossed in shortly after. Some shipmates even used gaff hooks to keep the sailor in the drink until he cleaned himself to their satisfaction.
But Thrak appreciated Lorraine's efforts. He would have patted her shoulder affectionately if he wasn't paying attention to High Commander Skye. The man was speaking words, but while Thrak understood them individually, they just didn't seem to make sense when strung together. Measurements... making a landing... comfortable with parachutes? That was the one word Thrakazog didn't really understand.
He whispered ineffectually to Lorraine, his voice easily carrying to Skye's ears as well. "Umm... whut's da para... da parash... whut him is talkin bout?"
Post by Lorraine Blackmoore on Feb 16, 2016 0:05:32 GMT
There certainly was not enough cloth to clean the mess on Thrakazog's face but at least some of it had been reduced and she could partially make out his colored skin beneath the grime. Her brows furrowed together as she eyed the dirty clothe then folded it away to place in a separate pocket of her satchel where nothing valuable was contained. The way the mountain of a man always whispered to her drew a small grin from her. Perhaps she should teach him how to whisper? It was a practiced skill, really. She remembered as a child how her mother would scold her and her brothers for being too loud and even when they thought they were whispering they were still talking. The again, Thadeus was a large man with a booming voice. Was whispering even possible for him? Possibly. Vibrations through the vocal chord determined how loud someone was or the pitch of their voice--aided by the structure of their nasal cavity. Whispering was generally the little to no feelings of those vibrations opposed to when speaking normally.
Parachutes. That was right. "Parachutes," she corrected, grin fading to a pleasant smile. "They are large sheets of special material used by many folk who go up in the sky in case of emergency. If an air ship is crashing, a parachute is used to help lower that person to safety. They are generally placed in backpacks which you then wear like a, well, a backpack. You jump of whatever it is of great height. An air ship--or in our case, cliffs and such, then you pull a chord that is attached to the backpack and it will eject your parachute. The parachute will fill with air and you will end up drifting down to the ground. It can be scary." She hated heights and only dreaded the idea of practicing. But it was necessary. "Shall we take our leave then and go practice, Thrakazog? Skye, will you be joining us?"
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