Icy Destinations (Relaunch)

[Aldrea945]

The clicks and hisses of cooling steam engines welcomed Kikara home to those rickety docks.  Even as cold burned her nose and the snow blinded her, it made her giddy.  Finally, finally home.  Well, sorta.  As much a home as half empty buildings and closed factories could be.

Airships rose all around her.  Some towered over the Taneris, freighters or scrappers coming in for an easy night.  Most were dirty, haggard.  The storms had grown so much worse in the past months.  They threw even Blackbird city ships for a loop, and smaller ships often wound up as piles of metal.  These ones were probably not the full accompaniment to leave the last port.  Poor souls.

In between the massive barges were smaller ships, ranging from skimmers used by ore mining crews to a few ships that probably weren’t bought on the main market.  If the big dogs looked worn, these small ones just made Kikara wince.  Holes in the decks, shattered wings, tattered back up glide-masts – they all looked like they had gone to bed with feral Stormies and come back missing their heads.  Not the way to come back to waiting employers.  She’d know.

Compared to those ship shaped scrap piles, the Taneris looked positively lovely.  Her copper and steel plated hull gleamed, the wood hidden from the elements.  The wings trimmed in like a swan, and the ample stern gave her a majestic vibe.  The curling bow ornamentation rose level with the back, shielded with thick glass to work under.  The only damage were the long scratches along the port and singed rudder.  Kikara had held up in a cave while the storm buffeted the open sky and cliffsides, flying faster than was safe when the lull hit.  The engines were worth the money after all.  (Ask her belly, though, and it had not been a fun few weeks.)

She pulled her notepad out, running over the list of places to hit.  No crew meant for long trips city side, and Creya liked her to have her ducks in a row before she set out again.  Food, forge, supply restock, fabric drop off…  All before she could go see Creya for the next job.  Kikara sighed.  Maybe she’d get lucky this time and she’d find a few crewmates.  You know, the ones that didn’t drink till they fell into a dragon’s maw.

Wouldn’t that be a miracle?

[Wilco Whiteheart]

Wilco was in the tavern in Ruinese City, serving customers. His guardian, an old man by the name of Tom, was chatting to a few customers, smiling. Wilco finishes the beer run and sits down, checking the keg for any leaks. Satisfied with the stability of it, He gets up and cleans a few glasses.


He looked outside, not surprised to see guards coming in every now and then. He handles their requests and afterwards, settles in for a long night.


The tavern was in the middle of Ruinese City, near the city centre. It made for good business, yet problems arose easily, given it's purpose. Drunk brawls, language barriers (Mostly on Wilco's behalf), and drugs and black marketers plagued the tavern, less so since He took over it and got the guards to come, either on a daily or weekly basis, depending on what their up to. He appreciated the security, given that he knows that his old man will up and drop one day...

[Ara Av-Toa]

Pyro stood over a red-hot plate of steel. He had just finished patching it up, since the last storm damaged the hull piece of what once was a glorious airship. Right now, he was fortifying as he punched the metal in a rythmic pattern. The dull hits echoed over the terrain. He checked the result. It was not going to last. Pyro sighed. The metal had become brittle, and the scrap metal he used in the process was of low quality as well. He pulled his mouth as he tempered it in water. It was the best he could do nowadays. He put it aside on the finished pile. After that, he looked around at the buildings and factories, almost like he was working in a ghost town.

Ruinse and ruins, he thought. They sound the same, and it likely won't be long before they actually are the same.

His vision trailed to the surrounding mountains. They made him wonder if there was a better life out there. A happier life. Sure, he liked his job. But something was missing somewhere. He couldn't place his finger on it, but there was this always-present feeling that his life was incomplete. One day, though, he would find out. He picked up the next project, a broken wing frame, and tried to focus on his job as he made a fix attempt. Despite his best efforts, his mind wandered off and he wished a brighter future would come.

[Rayleonarde]

Near the outskirts of Ruinse sat the smallish Church of the Fractured Machine. The steel-and-wood structure faced the white wasteland, icicles gleaming in the sun. Over the horizon, a red gleam of light seemed to call out to the church, the church ringing its bell in response. Father Andreas Gorrim, the old squirrel that stood as the church's Father, stood in the window, smiling towards the red light.


Rayleonarde Blackburn, a disciple of Gorrim's, lowered the signal lantern and snuffed the flame. He hiked his leather pack higher up on his back and made his way towards home. The icy wind nipped at his semi-exposed face and the chill seeped through his fur-lined clothes. Barbarically made, yes, but the clothes were vital to Ray's faith. Though ice and snow clung to his clothes, it did not bother the raccoon. A fiery zeal burned within his gut, extreme in nature and stalwart in its task. Ray looked up to the city's skyline as he approached.


Gorrim's been making more and more noise about going on a proper expedition, Ray thought to himself. Perhaps today will be the day.


Ray approached the church's doors and stepped inside.
 "Father Gorrim," called the raccoon. "I've returned!" Gorrim cautiously descended the stairs, the large brass cane he carried supporting his every step.
"Very good, my son. Did you discover anything of import?" The old squirrel's eyebrow raised in curiosity. Ray hung his head, bowing before the Father.
"No, Father. I scoured for hours in the valleys and glaciers. Only ship parts and lost crewmen met me."
"Did you bury them, Ray?"
"Of course, Father."
Gorrim removed his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve, as he spoke. "Good. We will need the good faith of the commonfolk if we ever wish to reach the Machine. It's clockwork turnings have given me another vision. A ship, pristine in its stature, will carry you farther on your journey. I know now the Machine has chosen you. You will find it, my son. And you will bring it back."
Ray's eyes lit up as he looked up at Gorrim. "Really, Father? But I've not been with the church for more than two-and-twenty years..."
Gorrim chuckled as he reseated his glasses. "It doesn't matter, Ray. You've equal faith in the Machine as we all do. The Machine will be our salvation, and you our savior. Go now, find the vessel I described, save these people Ray."
Ray nodded and turned to leave. "Praise be to the Machine, Father."
Gorrim shuffled to his favorite armchair by the furnace and responded with a wave. "Praise be, young Rayleonarde."


The raccoon stepped back outside, and headed for the city. He assumed the best place to find would be at the city's main docks, so he corrected course and made his way there.

[Ara Av-Toa]

While hammering, Pyro heard the distant church bells. He didn't stop to listen. He'd visited that church only once, and what he saw didn't appeal to him. The Order of the Fractured Machine, he recalled. Believing in supernatural metal. Sure. It sounds way too far-fetched. It doesn't even sound like a real god to me. I mean, seriously? How do they have any followers at all? Or am I missing something? He made his hammer strikes more violent as he thought about it. Forging was actually a pretty good stress reliever. He almost didn't notice he finished the frame. He tempered it and put it aside. There was no more work for now, so he kicked back next to the oven. The cold hardly reached here because of the smelting going on. He ignored the ringing and stared at the airships going to and from town. His eyes rested on the Taneris because it stood out from all the other ships. Somewhere, he longed to work with something like that. Higher quality steel and copper. His hands tingled just thinking of working with it. If only he could try a hand at it. If only...

[Aldrea945]

The crowd milling around the town square steered clear of Kikara, giving the massive woman ample room to trot along.  The list of tasks clutched in her hand, she headed for the forge.  The metal she’d put an advance order in for - sent back with a messenger skimmer much faster than any storm - were hopefully ready.  She’d spotted the tiny skimmer in its dock.  Sails were intact, so they should have arrived on time.  Hopefully.

Cobblestone had been cleared in most of the districts of the snow and ice from the night previous.  Her boots clacked softly, metal reinforcing the back of the heels against old brick.  It cleared her mind to her it.  It meant solid ground.  It meant, if nothing else, the illusion of safety.

The forge wasn’t far from the docks, just a fifteen minute walk.  It wasn’t a welcoming smell for Kikara - singed metal always smelled of dragon’s breath to her - but it was familiar.  Her last set of crewmates had contained a blacksmith.  She’d been excellent, but a bit… flighty.  Right off the side of a cliff.  Hence why parachutes and glide wings were required when going out.  Including those with wings.

She stepped into the heat, her fur ruffling up.  A small bag, loaded with the money for the metal.  She’d made sure to pop a few gems in for the short notice.  Might even turn their favor to help her find someone to join her.

~~~
(OOC: Hey, if anyone has trouble posting like I do, use Chrome.  Firefox, ironic as the name is, won't allow it.)

[Ara Av-Toa]

Pyro wasn't the one who got tasked with Kikara's delivery, but he saw her approaching from a distance. He noticed her looking around in an unusual way- almost if she was looking for something. Or, perhaps, someone. He stepped up and told her, "You seem to be troubled by something. Is there anything I-" -he glanced over to the rest of the forgery to correct himself- "we- can do to help?"

[Rayleonarde]

Ray wandered towards the docks, his head turned slightly to allow his one good eye to see as much in front of himself as possible. The inner city always seemed daunting to Ray, the airships in particular. On his few long-range expeditions, the raccoon had witnessed the ships fail and crash in the white wasteland, usually due to high winds and mountains of snow. Ray shrugged dejectedly, causing the brass-bladed musket-ax combination rifle to fall from its holster. The blade clanked against the cobblestones, the extreme cold causing the ax-blade to chip and crack along most of it. The zealot sighed and headed for the blacksmith. Luckily, Ray had just passed the smith and thanked the Machine for his luck. He pushed the door wide open, pulling the scarf down from around his nose.


“Good morning, metalworker! I-” Ray stopped himself as he noticed the airship captain ahead of him, and he bowed apologetically. “My apologies.”

[Wilco Whiteheart]

A cry and a yelp could be heard as a Black Marketer fleed through the city center, chased by an angry looking Wilco. The guards were ignorant of this, though a few looked at them with a smug grin. Wilco saw the BM head to the forge and, drawing his bow, fires an arrow into the guys leg, pinning him, before saying a word and his staff glowed a light blue, before a small beam of ice shot out and hit the arrow, freezing the guy in place. He stops and kneels beside the guy, finding a broken keg piece. He sighs and turns to the forge, which he was in full view of. As he looks, guards come and break the ice and remove the arrow, before dragging the BM away.


He looks down and puts the staff and bow away, clearing his vision and starting to walk to the forge. He heard whispering, yet ignored it. Let them think...

[Ara Av-Toa]

Pyro saw the two characters headed for the forgery in the corner of his eye. He wondered what this could mean, but for the same account it was a mere coincidence. He didn't miss Wilco freezing the marketer in place, though. He had a strange feeling about this all. Maybe, just maybe, something large was about to happen.

[Wilco Whiteheart]

Wilco was sweating as he entered the forge, speaking to someone about getting the keg piece fixed. His staff was underneath the bow on his back, and he was making some grunts as he was speaking.

[Aldrea945]

Kikara had to duck to get inside the Forge, her ears scraping the ceiling.  Like most large cats in the area, she wasn’t exactly in mind for a city so much more south than her family’s home country.  It made shops interesting trips.

As it was, her height made it no less awkward to talk with people.  She utterly towered over the company she kept in the forge, her nearly seven and a half foot frame bulked with enough muscle to lift a steel beam.  She swept her tail around her legs to avoid burning the fur off and stuffed her hands in her coat pockets.  No need to look as intimidating as some found her.

Kikara smiled at the Fennec fox. “Why yes, I am.  I had a messenger put an order in for replacement plates,” she said.  She watched the raccoon enter and nodded.  “Not an issue, Ringtail.” She sent him a joking smile, turning back as the wolf trotted in.
 
The sharp scent of the oil made her nose twitch, the breeze through the door whisking it around.  “Past storm cost me some steel on the port side.  Pinned my lady against a cliff and tore some holes before I could get to shelter.  Any chance those are ready?  Should be under Kikara Tuns.”

[Rayleonarde]

Ray tucked his paws behind his back, bowing as he spoke.
“I hate to interrupt and intrude, but I must ask. Are you, by chance, an airship captain?”
The raccoon offered up a smile, one of humility yet with a subdued excitement. He knew the answer, but did not want to come off as strange. The ink-stained satchel on his hip rustled and clinked with the sound of parchment and traveling inkwells. In the forge’s firelight, Ray’s blind eye seemed to shine. Unlike the milky-white of a normally blind eye, the sightless orb in Ray’s head was a shockingly icy-blue, like a ball of smoothed ice.

[Ara Av-Toa]

Pyro didn't bother to talk to Ray, but replied, "Kikara Tuns... Eehm, let's see... If I'm not mistaken... Gimme a minute." He walked towards some other forgers, working with steel. The forgery of the city wasn't too large, and it had a good overview. He asked around a bit before getting to know where her delivery was made.

[Aldrea945]

Kikara smiled proudly and flicked her tail across the wood floor. “I am.  I own that pretty lady out there, actually.  The Taneris.”  She watched the forgers work and trot about, making note that if this worked out and she and Creya liked the craftmanship, they might have to look into getting steel work done.