1890
Somewhere in the South Pacific
Aboard the Intrepid

It was a sunny day in this part of the South Pacific as the Intrepid made its way to Omon. The weather was clear and there was no turbulence of any kind. Which given the challenges that Mr. Wight had said made travel to Omon dangerous but so far. There has been no sign of trouble. Then again, Mr. Wright never explained how he found a safe way to travel to Omon, and perhaps this is why the journey has been smooth so far. Mr. Wright's method being in use and ensuring safe passage to Omon. Which spirits are high, and everyone is just waiting for the expedition to begin exploring Omon.

But whatever the reason, it seems like they are set to visit and later land on the lost land. Which it was announced via intercom that the Intrepid is close to Omon and should see land soon. After two weeks of travel from London to the South Pacific. It seems like the expedition is set to see and explore Omon in earnest. They just had to wait a little bit longer before the adventure begins.

Which in the meantime, the people of the expedition are making themselves busy as the anticipation lingers in the air. Where most places on board are busy with people moving and preparing for the final approach. There were still some places that were mostly empty. For mainly those with nothing to do and waiting for the airship to reach Omon.

Still, Natan Wright would be found on the bridge, standing next to the viewing window, which had a commanding view of the surrounding area. Gazing out silently, as he too is eager to reach Omon and it showed.

---

The Intrepid was perhaps the largest airship Takács has ever seen, and it had to be. With the personnel, equipment, supplies, and other needed stuff that is needed for the expedition. It had to be large but, the size of the Intrepid still amazed him, and that Mr. Wright could afford such a large airship. Made entirely out of metal, and surprisingly still have good speed despite her size. Though fully enclosed, and there being no surface deck to go to and take in a breath of fresh air. This did not bother him much, and he can still see the sights on the observation deck.

This was a good trip so far for him since, while he had heard legends about Omon, he would have never figured that he would get a chance to see the fabled land. It was a big opportunity for him, and Takács was just grateful he could be here.

Though he wondered as he stood on the observation deck, gazing out at the open ocean below. What will they find in Omon, and what discoveries will they find, and what wonders are waiting for them in Omon. Takács could not wait, and they are expected to reach Omon soon.

So Takács simply waited on the observation deck, watching the open ocean for when Omon comes into sight and they can begin their adventure.

Caleb "Cal" Mercer
The Next Near-Death

---

Cal sat cross-legged on the narrow bunk, the volt-rifle balanced across his knees like a sanctified relic. Copper coils winked in the sliver of sunlight filtering through his cabin's porthole as the Intrepid’s engines thrummed somewhere amidships—steady, unhurried, as though the airship had struck a private bargain with the fickle winds Mr. Wright claimed guarded Omon. Methodically he ran the brass rod through the barrel, pausing to listen to the faint electrical crackle that lived inside the weapon, hungry for a charge. It sounded uncannily like the Khartoum dynamo that had once blown a Nubian sapper into mist and carved the thin scar along Mercer’s cheek.

Adventures flickered through his mind as if projected on the cabin bulkhead: the tiger that flowed out of Malayan fog, teeth flashing; the Russian packet boat groaning open beneath his boots in the Bering gloom; bullets, claws, ice, and fever—all of them missing by a whisker. Each escape had bought him a purse of gold and a greater craving for the next wager. The expedition’s pay was handsome, true, but he knew the sovereigns would spend like salt water if Omon’s legends proved half as feverish as the maps.

The intercom crackled overhead: “Landfall in one quarter hour—prepare for first sight.” Mercer laughed under his breath, snapped the side-plate shut, and murmured, “Here’s to the next near-death.” Hat, gauntlets, cartridge belt—he shrugged into each piece with a pilgrim’s solemnity, then strode into the dim passage where oil-lamps nodded like conspirators.

Moments later he stood on the observation deck, his palms resting on cool brass rail. The cloud-veil ahead parted like theater curtain to reveal a continent that had no business existing. A green ocean stretched to the horizon, its canopy heaving in the heat like the hide of a sleeping beast. The flowing of rivers flashed in the sun, veins of life in untouched land. No chart had traced those arteries; no lighthouse had ever blessed those shores.

A wicked thrill unfurled in his chest—the same bright sting quinine leaves on the tongue—reminding him that every heartbeat hence was an ante thrown onto a table none of them truly saw. He grinned at the rolling jungle, the molten sky, whatever gods kept tally in forgotten realms. Deal the cards, that grin seemed to say, and mind you play fair—though I certainly won’t. And with that silent challenge, Caleb Mercer waited for Omon to blink first.

Observation Deck

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Michael Gibbs. I met Natan Wright at the New York Stock Exchange. He convinced me to invest in his little oil operation and combined with my shares of Standard Oil, I became a millionaire. How could I say no to the offer to join the man who contributed to my financial success on this prestigious expedition? To set foot on a lost continent and see all the wonders it has to offer? Such an opportunity comes only once in a lifetime." Michael Gibbs said to the man in the top hat and the Australian as he walked up the window of the observation deck. "In case you are wondering, I did bring someone with me. My younger brother Jacob. The only sibling I respect, as he was the only other member of the family who wasn't content to live the rest of their life on the family farm. I invited him to be this expedition's chaplain and he agreed on the condition that his share of whatever treasure we might find goes to the Church. However, I did not choose him because he is my blood. He served in the army during the war and didn't swear off the use of a gun after becoming a man of the cloth. That makes him better suited for the task than most priests, as anyone who might be livin' on Omon might not welcome outsiders with open arms. Not to mention the legends of monstrous beasts livin' on the lost continent." Michael Gibbs added.

Crew Quaters/Dining Area
Jacob Gibbs left his cabin and headed to the dining room, wanting to meet some of the souls he would be accompanying to the lost continent. He bumped into someone as he walked down the hall. "Sorry. I didn't see you there." Jacob said to the stranger he bumped into, the big man uttering something in Turkish before leaving. "Mr. Wright must have people from all over the world on a dangerous expedition. I honestly shouldn't be surprised. A man headin' to a lost continent can't turn away capable men willin' to roll the dice on such an expedition." Jacob said to himself as he turned back around and continued heading down the hall. The chaplain continued walking until he entered the dining area and took a seat at one of the tables. "If you didn't hear the intercom, we will be landing at our destination in one hour, monsieur. I suggest making your order now. It might be your last chance to eat something other than field rations." A French staff member said to Jacob Gibbs as he approached him. "Your finest steak and a bottle of whiskey should be enough for this former war dog. I can't protect my flock on an empty stomach." Jacob replied, the Frenchman heading to the kitchen to inform the chef of his order.

.

Aboard the Intrepid
Observation Deck
Takács Mátyás

Takács was busy gazing at the open ocean with anticipation, and at first did not see the people showing up in the observation deck. When a voice started talking behind him. Turning around to the sound of someone talking, Takács did not know who he was talking to. So he simply listened to what the man had to say.

Which was a long bit about himself and a small bit about his brother, whom he brought with him. Some of which seems to be that he liked to hear the sound of his own voice and himself. Since that is what he mainly talked about and few else.

So Takács awkwardly spoke to Michael. "Uh.... hi, I am Takács Mátyás and I am an archaeologist." He took a moment to fix his hat, and still sounded a bit awkward. "I am here since I got a letter from Natan and given the real possibility of reaching and exploring Omon. I knew I had to come along and see what wonders Omon has in store for us." He sighed, "I hope we find something that warrants my profession, but I know this will be a good experience either way."

Takács would ask Michael something, but he basically said enough that would not warrant any more questions. A strange start to a convention with strangers, he thought. Thus, Takács posed an open question to the gathered group on the observation deck. "So what do we here want to see in Omon? I want to see if this lost land has any natives or lost cultures that I could study and bring back traces to the world." Takács would lean back on the observation deck's railing and waited to see who would speak first.

"An archeologist? You made the right choice. Omon should have plenty of ruins for you to explore, ancient scrolls for you to decipher, tombs for you to discover, and antiquities for you to retrieve. A better use of your talents than riskin' your life in the desert for mere trinkets. Legends about Oman say that there is great treasure on the Lost Continent. I seek that treasure. Not to fatten my coffers with the gold and jewels of a long dead civilization, but to gain the prestige of bringin' rare artifacts back to the states. The glory that will allow me to be accepted by my peers. I went from a textile shop owner to someone who saw the protentional of oil to the owner of a textile factory, yet my wealth and my choice of wife has not stopped those born into wealth from turnin' their noses up at me for bein' born a farm boy on the frontier. The success of this expedition will ensure that nobody in America will ever look down on me again. As for my younger brother Jacob, you already know that he agreed to join this expedition in exchange for his share of whatever treasure we find goes to the Church. I expected no less of him. I do advise against askin' him about his military service if you want to hear stories of glorious battles and heroic deeds and war bein' an adventure. You will receive none of that from him. I also advise you to keep an eye out for any unsavory Individuals and a hand on any weapons you decided to bring with you. I've heard of captains who've hired such men for long voyages across the Pacific and I would not be surprised if a few of them answered Natan's call for volunteers." Michael Gibbs said to the well-dressed Austro-Hungarian man as he stared out of the Observation Deck Window.

Caleb "Cal" Mercer

---

Cal lingered a pace back, hat tilted low as the chatter eddied around him. The stock-exchange baron, -Gibbs, was it?-shone like a polished coin, his words rattling against the glass in bright, eager clinks: Standard Oil, textile empire, rare antiquities for the parlour display. Cal’s lips twitched; he had seen men buy tiger rugs and think it made them hunters.

Next to Gibbs, young Takács shifted from one boot to the other, eyes alight with the academic hunger Cal remembered from Siamese temple digs: the kind that could note the curvature of a glyph yet miss the cobra at ankle height. And somewhere off to the side, that razor-thin doctor scribbled neat hieroglyphs of his own, measuring the world in angles and theories as if a charging beast might pause out of courtesy for a diagram.

Cal cleared his throat, “Gentlemen,” he drawled, “I’ve no doubt Omon has scrolls and baubles enough to christen a dozen museums and set a fair few society pages aflutter.” He tapped the brim of his slouch hat back, eyes sharpening to the emerald sea below, “But the maps we’re about to walk off the edge of weren’t left blank for want of curiosity. More likely something down there obliged the last curious souls to stop drawing.”

A grin crept across his face as he loosened the leather thong on his Webley revolver and let the walnut grip wink in the light. “So by all means, chase your prestige, your glory, your footnotes in the annals of civilization. Just remember: ruins have teeth, natives may not care for polite introductions, and the ferns out there grow big enough to hide things that’ll pick their teeth with our bones.”

He settled the revolver back, knuckles resting easy on the rail. “Stick close when the scouts say tread left instead of right, keep a piece of iron within arm’s reach, and most of us will live long enough to toast each other with whatever vintage passes for champagne in these parts.”

Cal’s grin tilted wry. “Fail that, and at least Reverend Jacob will have plenty of souls to shepherd on short notice.”

Observation Deck
"I highly doubt that we will find any dragons or sea serpents, but I am certain that there will be creatures that are dangerous enough to be considered monstrous. The Dark Continent has lions and spotted cats, rhinos and elephants, hippos and crocodiles, all of which terrified the Greeks and Romans. The West has coyotes and mountain lions. The Rockies and northern states have wolves and bears. The south has alligators. The Raj has Tigers. From what I heard, the wilderness of Australia is full of creatures deadlier than any I have mentioned. However, such beasts ain't invincible. They can be killed. The larger ones are hunted by those with the bravery and skill to pursue such trophies. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the men who signed on with this expedition do so for that exact reason. As for keepin' a piece of iron in reach, I brought a pistol. Nobody visits an undiscovered and untamed land without bringin' a weapon in case they encounter hostile natives." Michael Gibbs said to Cal as he pulled out his Colt Army Single Action Army, light reflecting off the part of the pearl handle. "I also have a Bore 4 Bore and the ammo for it in my cabin. What? I grew up on a farm on the frontier. My father taught me that the wild animals are more dangerous than the most vicious of outlaws, same as my brothers. I have not forgotten that lesson and have spent some of my hard-earned money on a gun powerful enough to stop a chargin' elephant so that I can protect myself from any of the monstrous beasts said to live on the lost continent." Michael Gibbs added.

Dining Area
Jacob Gibbs continued eating his steak and drinking his whiskey as his older brother talked to the Australian. "Sounds like my brother is meetin' with some other members of this expedition. I wouldn't be surprised if he mentioned that elephant gun he bought. Been a while since he shot anythin' larger than a six-shooter and that thing is heavier than the rifles dad used to teach us. It probably has more kick than a mule." Jacob said to himself before taking another bite.

Aboard the Intrepid
Observation Deck
Takács Mátyás

---

"For me...," Takács was about to say something, but the intercom came on, and now Omon could be seen from the observation deck. The first ones to see Omon in a long time as the coastline of Omon comes into view. Which would be a sandy beach that would lead to a lush forest.

"Omon has been sighted, I repeat, Omon has been sighted, and we will begin to find a landing zone as soon as possible."

"Finally," Takács quickly turned around and gazed upon the lost continent with amazement in his voice. "Omon, here we are, and I wonder what biomes Omon has." He chuckled to himself, "I can see green trees, and... now I should probably get ready to land." He smiled as he continued to gaze at Omon. "The grand adventure, here we come," Takács said quietly under his breath and left the observation deck. Heading to his cabin and now it is just waiting to find a place to land and start this expedition in earnest.

---

Twenty minutes later
Intrepid landing zone

Once a landing zone was founded, a large clearing in a forest. Did the Intrepid land with grace on the foreign soil. As soon as the airship landed, her cargo bay doors opened wide, and at first, it was the expedition's guards, the soldiers, both hired guns and former military were sent out to secure the perimeter around the airship, just in case the Intrepid landed too close to anything hostile.

Once the all clear signal was made after some time. Did the rest of the expedition began to unload the contents of the Intrepid. A seemingly endless number of personal, wooden crates, supplies, and more would start setting up a base camp at the clearing.

Which while that was happening, Takács was following the flood of movement and would take his first steps on Omon. Making sure he was not going to bump or get in the way of the traffic in the process. But once he was in the clear and not in a busy part of the growing base camp.

Takács looked around and took in his surroundings. He was finally here, and he started taking notes in his personal journal. Just writing about the excitement of what would be the first chapter of his journey on Omon. The first entries of many in this lost land.

After he was done, he put his personal journal away into his backpack, and Takács looked around once again with a smile on his face. They were finally on Omon, and it is only a matter of time before everything is ready and the group is ready to move out and explore what this lost land has in store for them. For now, Takács was content to watch and observe from what would be the base camp and get ready to see the interior of Omon.

Caleb "Cal" Mercer

---

Caleb Mercer strode down the Intrepid’s gangplank before the earth had finished trembling beneath her settling ballast. Sun-baked jungle air rolled up to meet him; humid, green, and faintly sweet. Around him the expedition frothed in the landing zone with engineers unspooling steam-line tethers, porters heaving teak crates, sentries fanning out with bayonets half-fixed. Mercer threaded through the scene with ease, expression intent but unhurried.

At the fringe of camp he knelt, cinching the leather straps of a narrow field-pack until they bit comfortably into his shoulders. The Steamwinder carbine—brass receiver catching flashes of sun—slid into its scabbard along his spine, muzzle capped against the damp. His Webley rode forward on the belt, thong loosened for a quick draw. Into jacket pockets went a pocket compass, a stub of carpenter’s pencil, and three folded sheets of oil-skin map paper still clean as virgin linen.

He straightened, tasting the moment the way a wine-man rolls a vintage on the tongue. High to the southeast a serrated ridgeline shouldered above the canopy, its basalt spine mottled by strangler-figs. If any place could offer a first rough sketch of this labyrinth, that crest would do.

“Right, then,” he announced to no one in particular, though a pair of wide-eyed porters paused long enough to overhear. “I’ll take a stroll up yonder ridge, mark the lay of the land. Back with a map in one hand and, God willing, both arms still attached.”

He tipped the brim of his slouch hat, an amiable salute to the bustling camp, and slipped beyond the outer picket, rifle in hand.

"Looks like two of our number ran off into the jungle as soon as we landed, Jacob. I hope God is willin' to throw them a bone because they will need all the luck they can get." Michael Gibbs said to his younger brother as he looked around the camp and noticed that two members of the expedition were gone. "We will bury those fools if we find their remains. Judgin' by what I see, their odds of survival look grim." Jacob Gibbs said to his older brother as he briefly pointed as some rocks off the coast, the rotting barnacle covered remains of a wrecked ship jutting from them like a fence post, parts of it looking like a large carnivore had taken bites out of the ship before it had crashed into the rocks. "For now, we need to focus on more immediate matters. The expedition is still setting up camp, I need to introduce myself to the others, and you best take the opportunity to talk to Natan about what he plans to do after we've finished settin' up the tents and perimeter. Whatever it is will be the key to our survival in such a dangerous place." Jacob added "I understand your point. Omon is a lost continent full of unknown dangers, but it is also an uncharted land full of wonder and mystery yet to be discovered. How many people get such an opportunity? How many get to go on an adventure in a place that previous would-be explorers have failed to reach? We took our chance to be part of somethin' greater and now we are in a lost world waitin' for someone to start turnin' over stones. The ruins to find and explore, the wildlife to be discovered, the treasures to be found, and new peoples to meet. People will write stories about this expedition to the Lost Continent. I wouldn't be surprised if a couple of them are part of it. So long as we keep an iron loaded and our wits about us, we will survive Omon and make it back to America in one piece." Michael Gibbs said to Jacob Gibbs, the man of the cloth walking towards the center of camp while his older brother headed to Natan's tent in the hopes that he might be able to find what Natan's plans are.