Bingelly

Paradise Lost

Vitiafa

Character Description

Name:Vitiafa of Endiohon
Species: Kiellar
Sex: Female
Age: 160-ish
Role/Job: Priestess
Appearance:

My Hider

Strengths and Weaknesses

Skills: Vitiafa’s soldiering skills may be incredibly rusty, but she’s a very old hat at handling blasters and blades and can be deceptively good at fighting, at least from a fixed position or for a short time.

Vitiafa is understandably well-read, and brings an understanding of Makerism and several human strains of religion in addition to her kiellari polytheism.

Her extremely rural background and sometimes semi-itinerary lifestyle has taught Vitiafa the ever valuable skill of cooking well.

Weaknesses: Completely blind in one eye and stricken with an often noticeable limp in her gait, the older kiel suffers from her old wounds. Running, though far from impossible for someone still as physically active as she is, proves to be quite painful.

Her pride makes for a volatile mix when combined with her injuries, and unprompted aid is likely to earn scorn rather than gratitude.

Background:

Backstory: Vitiafa’s life began on one of Eden’s older colony worlds, Euphrates, being one of the middle children to a family of farmers providing foodstuffs for the Edenites. Her childhood was marked by long days in the field and home, dutifully toiling with her family to earn what the gods would bless them with. A proper kiellar upbringing involves scouting youth groups and preparation for at least a small stint in the military, and Vitiafa was no exception to this and took the craft well enough.

She served briefly in one of Euphrates’ local militias, which mostly consisted of eventless patrols and glorified pest control duties against the wildlife. It is an honorable service, to be sure, but it was nothing exciting to the young Kiel, who had done pretty much the same thing prior to joining up. Instead, Vitiafa turned to the central military for the adventure she silently craved in the infantry.

To say Vitiafa received what she wanted would be an understatement. During a raid on a pirate base, she had taken point into one of their labs and received a splash of acid to the face for her troubles. Her immediate reaction was a piercing screaming before adrenaline surged forth. With gritted teeth as her flesh boiled and bubbled, she brought her carbine on the target rushing her with a knife and yanked the trigger. Almost instantly, she dropped her rifle, reached for her canteen and doused the side of her face. The cool relief lasted for merely a moment as the acid was diluted, before the coolness of the water and the very air burned her as equally as intensely.

Vitiafa was about to find her way to triage when a grenade smashed through one of the windows.The resulting blast left several pieces of shrapnel in her right leg and severely damaged her right foot, which essentially ended her time in the infantry. Her devout upbringing led to a hard pivot into religious studies. She spent the rest of her time in the military as a chaplain, where her curious nature led to private research into other faiths among those of Eden.

She returned home following her discharge, and rejoined her as one of the priestesses at her local temple and the local militia. As she grew older, and more experienced, her time was spent increasingly away from home. First, in larger communities on Euphrates, then even on trips to Eden’s cities. The cosmopolitan nature of the military and her service as a chaplain served her well in the diverse urban settings, though part of her longed for the simple life of home while she was away.

It was during one of these visits to Eden when the metacer threat reemerged and blitzed their way to the world. Her first thought was to rejoin the front, bolster the morale of those fighting the hard fight, and perhaps die facing the foe. An extremely heated debate with her superiors, however, convinced her to acquiesce to the idea of evacuating.

Empire of the Clouds

Mitunbaal Vasiliou

Following the cries for help as the guns fell silent, Mitunbaal hurried into the increasingly crowded cabin. Her breathing was labored from a dash, though she carried herself well once she slowed down to cross the threshold. The patient serenity painted a stark contrast between Zoe's panic as she quietly entered.

"Your pardon, Gentlemen and Lady, but I've some practice with this sort of affair." she said as she pushed through to get a better view at Aden's wounded arm. Without waiting for much of a response as she watched his clothing slowly soak with blood, she deftly drew her dagger. First to be cut was the jacket, and the heavy fabric gave some resistance before eventually falling loose. The shirt underneath was more rapidly soaking with blood, and Mitunbaal give a deep sigh as she removed her gloves.

"We can resew that later, if the Private Robertson prefers," she added, almost as an after thought, before cutting Aden's his shirt sleeve.

The gunshot had torn through the flesh of the private's right arm, ripping through his upper triceps and nearly severing the tendon. Blood flowed alarmingly free down Aden's arm. She placed her hands around both the entrance and exit wounds and held them tight as her palms quickly grew wet, warm, and sticky.

"Dawnbringer," she said, clearly unbothered by the gore "This most humble servant asks that you repair this man's moral body with your light, so that he may protect our from the forces of atheistic devilry that plague us in our day.

The Shariq's hands gave a warm light, and the wounds underneath her hands slowly started knitting themselves back together...

Smoke and Steel

Sidskold:Coralie D'Ambois & Jhaan Viryarus

D'Ambois' camp was a large, sprawling affair on the edge of the village of Sidskold, orderly in parts, chaotic in others, depending upon which officer was in charge, though it was notable that the ones closest to the manor house on the edge of the town were arranged in orderly rows with no lingering smells to suggest soldiers had been relieving themselves in places other than the latrines. While some of the other Captains were ill prepared for a campaign on land, Assinger, the Hathaian soldier who acted as D'Ambois' right hand, knew how to keep an orderly camp.

General Viryarus and his entourage were led to the manor before being admitted into a modest hall with a cheerful blazing fire in the hearth, a large black wyvern banner on the opposite wall. There were a pair of halberdiers with black-feathered morions who seemed to be acting as the Pretender's personal guard - Iktani by the looks of them and between them, standing next to the hearth was the woman herself in a pretty black satin dress. If it hadn't been for the cutlass and brace of pistols hanging from her belt, she would have looked every bit the noble. She was a slender creature with cascading dark hair, alert, intelligent blue eyes and a fair, Monchian complexion.

"Your Majesty, may I present General Jhaan Viryarus," one of the officers who had been assigned to lead the General's Guard of Honour presented the General with a bow.

"General," before Viryarus had a chance to do anything, D'Ambois had dropped a deep, well practiced curtsey, as if acknowledging the general as a social superior. There was going to be no expectation that Viryarus grovel or ackownledge her claim, "I trust the journey was not too strenuous and you didn't encounter any Calarian foraging parties?"

The Imperial General was almost the opposite of the Pretender, he was meeting with. He was a wide man, well built from a life spent campaigning, and wore his cuirass, pistols and saber well. His blond hair on his head was cut short in the manner of a half-shave similar to the stereotypical Jagorsy, while he kept a now slightly unkept mustache. The stubble on the sides of his face and head showed that it had clearly been a fortnight since the man had properly shaved, which was likely due to the circumstances his army had found itself in rather than a personal lack of good grooming. His square face was hard, and his overprominent forehead, deeply sunken brown eyes, and a round, bulbous nose that had been badly broken at one point ensured that the Elgan was rather homely in physical appearance.

"Other than the haste of my entourage, the journey was remarkably pedestrian and I do thank God for that, Lady D'Ambois," Viryarus replied as he removed his riding gloves and slipped them into a pocket. "I must confess, I am rather impressed by your efforts running this camp. With a few more proper officers, you might whip this rabble of peasants and pirates into a proper army."

"The problem with pirates is they all rather think they're the Captain of their own ship, even when they are on land," Coralie replied with a throaty laugh. Almost on cue a servant appeared with two goblets of wine. She picked up both, offering one to Viryarus with a slight smile, "I've offered the officers we captured after the Battle on the Coast to take a commission with me. Some are a bit hesitant imagining they'll get hanged as traitors if they're taken. It's understandabe - I appreciate a pragmatic man," she raised her goblet in a toast, "Sir, I understand you gave the Calarians quite a run for their money. From what people tell me, they only forced the pass by sheer weight of numbers. Had I engaged you instead of the fool who thought I wouldn't have pickets on my right flank, the battle here might have gone differently. You might have had me fleeing back across the sea with a hold of booty... or my head on a pike. But instead, we're stuck in a very interesting little situation with the Calarians. Imagine if you had one pistol, I had one pistol and Qori -" she motioned at one of the halberdiers, "-had a pistol and we all wanted each other dead. Whoever shoots first kills one enemy but then they're got an unloaded pistol and their other enemy still has a bullet in the barrel. What to do?"

"I disagree with your analogy, Lady D'Ambrois," Viryarus answered after a moment of thought. "This is not merely a conflict between you, Mister Qori, and myself. You and I have no comrades to back us, but Mister Qori," Viryarus gestured to the other Halberdier flanking Coralie, "has a friend not too far from him who desires to kill the both of us as well."

The Elgan paused to take a sip of the wine he had been given, "Please allow me to elaborate. The Calarians almost certainly have reinforcements back across the border they can send to replace their losses, as bloody as the fighting at the pass was, and they outnumber both of us individually by the estimates of my scouts. You and I, however, can only replace our losses with what we can raise from the local population of these Southern provinces. Inbur is occupied with other vital problems, and you are a foreigner lacking support from any of the neighboring states. That is not a tenable situation for either of us.

He laughed heartily for a moment, before giving Coralie a hard stare. "We could most certainly try to kill one another, but we may not be able to best Mister Qori, let alone his companion, while defenseless and wounded. Negotiating terms between us is our best option, wouldn't you agree, Lady D'Ambois?

Coralie inclined her head politely, "Why General, that was exactly what I was going to propose!" she paused, momentarily, then apparently decided to lay her cards on the table, without beating around the bush, "My proposal would be something along the lines of we would agree to return all prisoners from the former battle who haven't taken up arms with my forces to you to rearrange into units as you see fit. I will agree to assist you in beating back the Calarians. Following on from that, we will declare a truce for a period of time. Perhaps half a year? With the facility to extend or renegotiate as necessary. We will agree not to campaign anywhere in the vicinity of your forces and allow you to guard to border unmolested. You will, no doubt, be concerned about how to bring supplies, reinforcements and so on to your armies on the border given my cousin's rabble further inland. We will agree to a neutral port where trade, commerce, and so on can take place. Ships will fly the flag of the city when travelling to and fro," she gave a roguish grin, "And that makes it much less likely for anyone on your side, or mine, not party to this agreement, to try to plunder shipping - we won't know whose ships we are raiding."

"An excellent arrangement, at least for your party, and it is certainly politically convenient and militarily expedient for me for the time being." Viryarus nodded along, "My orders are to simply hold the border, for now, but a rider will come if the Calarians can be driven back and you continue campaigning here in the south. You do, however have my word that, in exchange for this alliance now, I shall delay carrying out such an order should it arrive sooner than expected, barring possible future negotiation between either our camps or between you with my superiors."

"The Calarians can be driven back if we form a temporary alliance to defeat them," Coranie assured Viryarus, "It is in both our interests to drive them back for the current season. The remainder of this agreement is a way for us," she motioned to Viryarus, then to herself, "To ensure that neither of us is disadvantaged after the fighting - As far as the Emperor knows, you can be the hero who drove the Calarians back."

"Very well," Viryarus replied after a moment of pondering, "I agree to your terms in full, Lady D'Ambois. Let us raise a toast to the defeat of our foes."

"To agreements we both benefit from!" Coralie raised her glass, before taking a genteel sip, "We will communicate this to the troops and march North to meet you, where we will rearm the prisoners and allow you to reconstitute them into suitable units. Then we will drive the Calarians back, together... and incidentally, this creates a little bit of insurance for both of us, if the anarchy in the Empire does not play out in our favour."

Empire of the Clouds

Volodar Naesandoral

---

Volodar frowned as Arkadios reported on the infantry, who to him resembled a group of ants in the distance as the mass slowly trickled towards the fort. He silently prayed for the best as continued to watch out the windows of the gondola.

"If those men were the garrison, they'd be marching along the road," He thought aloud. "They'd also still probably have their lorries, unless they had to abandon them due to a lack of fuel. Territorials, mayhap? Or perhaps defectors? Alas, without getting closer, we cannot know for sure. I suggest we adjust course to simply avoid them if possible."

Smoke and Steel (A pike and shot era RP concept)

Greetings lads.

Empire of the Clouds

Mitunbaal was undeniably pleased to have solid ground at her feet and a reprieve from the cold of airship transit while assisting Arkadios with the ballast hose. It was undoubtedly hard work, especially for her, but it had been something to do. It had something to keep her mind off the uncertainty of the war, and the work had put the shariq into good enough spirits to hum a lilting tune while the crew labored.

Once finished, she took a moment to pause by the stream for herself. Mitunbaal stared into the clear water that filled the little banks, and the disheveled reflection that greeted her as she kneeled. She splashed the cool water against her face, and let a sigh slip free as the sweat washed away. It was refreshing after the frantic escape, and a fleeting reminder of normalcy as she muttered a prayer in thanks.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Arkadios moving back and joined the older soldier.

“Do you have faith this plan will work, Captain?" Mitunbaal asked as she caught up from him from behind. She recalled him being more neutral during the meetings after take off, and the old captain was older than anyone short of the Elgan aboard. He was more neutral than she had been at the very least. "This could see us shot, even if the opportunists among us, god willing, resist their baser urges to steal some of the gold.”

Empire of the Clouds

Volodar Naesandoral

---

Volodar scoffed at some of the discussion in the bridge. The Elf had clearly recovered a few of his pistols in preparation of the airship's arrival to Custospada, but the seemingly perpetual frown he had since boarded remained etched on his visage.

"There is going to be nothing fast about this if we commit to touching down," he commented. "And, as Captain Hamerlin has alluded to, hauling up any substantial amount of supplies by hand is going to take time. Blaugas and Petrol or Oil, in the quantities we may need, is going to need to be pumped aboard. The temptation to grab anything that isn't bolted to the fortress walls is surely there, but we must focus and we should focus on what gold may remain."

Volodar looked towards Carter as he rested a hand on his sword's pommel. The elf's eyes betrayed a sense of distain, but remained otherwise professional.

"I shall join you on the ground reconnaissance team," Volodar coldly added, I recommend we send men of endurance in body and mind, as to be prepared should the worst occur. It would not do us well to be stuck on the ground with a winded body and a coward's spirit. Others can man the machine guns until we know more."

Empire of the Clouds

Arkadios, Yuri, Urses, Aden, Volodar, & Hamelin

---

Arkadios had decided, after their break, to do an inventory of the armoury and had been pleasantly surprised to find it was well stocked. There were belts of 7.62mm rounds for the machine -guns. Ten Makarios C94 Pistols, and six of the Fokaides-Harris self-loading rifles with the big 19 round drum magazines. A good gun, if somewhat prone to jamming, particularly in the mud and dirt of a typical battlefield... but an airship was not a typical battlefield.

He had also been pleasantly surprised to discover the military hadn't removed the old cabins meaning they had 26 rooms with bunk beds which was good considering they would probably be spending at least one night aboard. He lifted one of the rifles up, giving it a quick examination. It looked like it had come straight off the production line without a dent to the woodwork or scratch on the metal.

Lieutenant Kasrikos was sighting one of the rifles, angling it downwards as he checked the action. "Captain, I do not know if we can trust the civilian contingent aboard. Clearly the man at the helm has some experience in combat. That coupled with his arrogance and agitation is a recipe for disaster" Kariskos mused, closing the action on an empty chamber, he clearly did not have much experience with the weapon.

"I would tend to agree," Arkadios nodded, "Though at this stage we need their expertise if we are to keep this ship aloft. I understand there is a dark art to buoyancy that takes years to master," he paused, "Your thoughts on the gold reserve? I held my tongue mostly as it is a useful endeavor for this ship. I suppose better to overpay these scoundrels than let the gold fall to the enemy."

Yuri rocked his head back and forth, a small wince spread across his mouth, "I don't know if I trust the noblewoman, but she makes a compelling argument: we are the best option for securing it. If she, or anyone else, tries to steal from the crown, we can just put them into prison at Grendell when we drop them off." He seemed a bit sour at the concept.

The comms officer continued, "I don't know who she's hiding from, but it may be of concern, she might be communalist aligned."

Aden was poring over the inventory of a particular shelf. Neat typed tallies of ammo cans were arrayed on a clipboard which he read while ambling over.

“Trust or not,” the sniper commented. “She seems to have the ear of the civilians….and the ones who can pilot this ship.”

Arkadios paused, raising an eyebrow as he set the rifle back on the rack, "She is a woman who knows the location of the gold reserve. Who says her father took her around the reserve. Who will be recognised and allowed access. I’ve never heard of her family before."

Yuri replied curtly "Captain I imagine that is because she is lying." He paused to consider the situation. "I can think of quite a few groups who would be eyeing up the reserves in times like these. Playing along will be the smoothest option for resolution."

"She is definitely lying, but she's confident that she can convince the guards at the reserve to hand over the gold," Arkadios mused, "Why? She can't take it by force and hasn't tried to convince us to either. Her belief that she can get it peacefully seems genuine."

Urses had remained quiet so far, preferring to listen to the discussion pan out before making up his mind on anything. Between the discussion on the Gondola and now, the Favisian medic had stayed out of anything close to command decisions in favour of making rounds of the makeshift crew, checking for injuries that required immediate attention before trouble found them again. He'd actually been on his way to suggest turning one of the unused cabins into an ad-hoc medical bay should the need arise when he'd stumbled into the current discussion.

"Maybe she's not completely lying? About who she is, sure, but maybe not about knowing people at the reserve. It'd make her confidence in her plan a little less unfounded, at the very least."

"I suspect that her identity is the lie," Arkadios agreed, "Which then begs the question of who she is," he gave a small chuckle, "Which I imagine we will find out at the reserve. So I suggest we play nice with her for now."

The medic shrugs at this. "Not much else we can do. It's not like we have a solid reason to start making accusations, and at least she's not as eager to abandon the whole continent like that damn Mainer. I might be from working-class roots, but even I have a sense of duty to my King and Country..."

Yuri gave a firm nod at that, putting the rifle back in the locker "It'll do to test her assertion, worst case she gets detained and we continue empty handed down a few days' travel. I'll try to get a message ahead to them." There was a short pause as he looked to the closed armory door. "Should we disarm the civilians?"

"The girl is an oddity, and something about her is familiar to me," Volodar added, as he shouldered and sighted one of the rifles to feel the balance. "I have a cautious faith in her plot. Disarming the civilians, however, could prove problematic, but I support the measure."

“I think disarming is rather expected at this point.” Aden hung up the clipboard and hefted one of the C94 pistols; heavier than his own sidearm. “I don’t like the helmsman though. Too idealistic and greedy. He will cause problems.”

"Disarming would be potentially disastrous," Arkadios put in, "We don't have enough people qualified to operate the ship if they don't agree to be disarmed. Save it for when we reach Grendell... but keep an eye on them."

“I think disarming is rather expected at this point.” Aden hung up the clipboard and hefted one of the C94 pistols; heavier than his own sidearm. “I don’t like the helmsman though. Too idealistic and greedy. He will cause problems.”

"Disarming would be potentially disastrous," Arkadios put in, "We don't have enough people qualified to operate the ship if they don't agree to be disarmed. Save it for when we reach Grendell... but keep an eye on them."

---

Urses sighed but nodded in agreement to Arkadios' assessment. "I've got to agree with the Captain. We're all servicemen, so we have a certain level of trust in each other, but the civilians don't have that trust; in us or each other. Trying to take their means of self-defence might make them lash out and we need to work together... We need to establish a chain of command though, otherwise there'll be too many voices trying to talk over one another and that won't do any of us any good."

"It needs to be done," Arkadios agreed, "But I would suggest we leave it until it becomes clear to the civilians that this disorder won't benefit them, at the moment I believe that Mainer Captain will rally some of the stupider civilians behind them. Wait for them to realise he isn't their salvation from military oppression or whatever nonsense they believe."

“He wants to be the hero,” Aden compared the C94 to the ammo clips neatly tucked away beneath their firearms. “And she’s promising free gold and salvation. Helps she has a pretty face too.”

Adan gave an experimental rack of the pistol and found the mechanism rather staying in how it slammed home.
"And I suppose we shall accept this flippant disregard of any good sense until we pay the peasants and profiteers off?" Volodar grumbled.

Yuri kept a stiff lip as he muttered, "We can always rectify that lack at Grendell too, if any of them try something truly lacking in good reason." He sighed, "I doubt they have spare air crews lying around, but getting some more hands aboard would do a lot to keep things civil."

"If they get out of control, there is always a window to take them back to the ground," Arkadios remarked darkly, "But we'll try to avoid that necessity for now."

Yuri bit his tongue at the idea, holding himself from objecting.

"Aye, that there is," Volodar conceded as he held back a dark chuckle.

“Could always just hang them from the catwalk.” Aden replaced the pistol and its ammo on the rack. The private pulled his scarf slightly tighter as he stepped into the circle. “Assuming we don’t leave behind most of them when they step off to get their gold.”

Urses, for his part, raised an eyebrow in concern. "I'm pretty sure that something in my oaths tells me we should avoid that outcome as much as possible. We can repurpose a passenger cabin as a brig if needs be, so we can avoid executing people unless we're absolutely desperate."

Unslinging his rifle, He sets it down beside him and crosses his arms as he leans on the bulkhead wall. "I recognise that maintaining order is vital, but I am a Medic first and foremost; My utmost priority is making sure we all make it out of this alive and intact."

Yuri looked over to the sharpshooter "We don't need homicidal ideation here, gentlemen." He seemed perturbed enough by the direction of the discussion.

"What we do need is a rotating pair of watches here and on the bridge. Ideally at least two at a time there."

"Gentleman, my apologies for intruding but.." The Favian unformed officer entered having returned from the machine gun he was operating now the threat from Red forces had reduced.

"Before I became a diplomat,” Hamelin continued, “I was an officer, and ships live on order like we need blood in our hearts. Disorder is infectious and devastating." He agrees with little he had gained, no ship would last long without a chain of command however loose, ad-hoc, and multinational it may be. They needed to pull together to survive. "We need a crew, however basic."

---

"Establishing watches and command is a start," Volodar said, "but what of contingencies? We need to agree on what we shall do if avarice doesn't convince certain elements to follow the girl's plan."

“Lashes and solitary always worked for us.” Aden piped up. “Mountains were always barebones so we had to keep the discipline somehow.”

"Do these things even have a Brig?" Hamelin asked. "In reactivated, old Favian ships, marines slept between officers and crew, we discreetly locate our beds near the bridge and armoury, cite so we can get ro action faster, in case of the reds? We can keep an eye and ear close without open spying." He proposed to the group.

Yuri shook his head "No, but we can lock up a room if needed. Again, our manning is about as light as it can be, there will be long watches until we can refresh the crew." He considered the Favian's words "Aye, going to need to take up posts nearby. I can take a double watch on the bridge for now, I need to get the telegraph running anyways."

"Just like training, anyone good with a coffee pot?" Hamelin asked, taking the fact without argument, long shifts where something they would have to get used to and a decent coffee man or woman would make it much easier. "I will see what the navigation station is like if you agree. I was a gunner and I am rusty, but I was trained in astral and chart based plotting."

"I'm sorry to say I'm as useful as a-" He stops himself mid-sentence as he remembers the commissioned officers in the room and decides to abandon his humorous idiom. "...I'm not going to be much help on the mechanical side of things; I learned how to fix people, not airships. I can see about using another spare room as a makeshift medical bay just in case, god forbid, we end up with wounded that need treating."

“Guess I’ll go wait on the bridge in case I need to shoot something.” Aden plucked his rifle from the ground and slung the sniper across his back.

"Your rifle should stay here," Volodar took a surprisingly diplomatic tone. "If we are not to disarm the civilians forcefully, we should set the example." He shifted to a more dry tone as he continued. "In quarters like these, a knife or pistol are the practical choice, so there is little reason to feel disarmed."

"...He has a point. We've got to give a little to get a little so putting away the long-guns might make the others do the same, or at least make them less likely to grab for them straight away." Urses nodded to Volodar at his suggestion before glancing down at his own rifle, resting on the wall next to him. He did not seem eager to leave the rifle.

"Medics are useful, if you want work, I'm sure we will have no shortage of duties." Hamelin said approvingly. "Keep to personal arms, if you need a pistol, gear up. I’ll promote you if you want it to be official, services be damned. We need to be careful, we need to build trust and show we are professionals. We are of mixed nations but we need a unified front and build good faith."

"We are, however, all friends here," Arkadios put in, "Perhaps it would also be worthwhile to sound some of the civilians out. Some may be less prone to wanting to steal this ship and abscond to another continent."

“I earned this rifle,” Adan replied to Volodar. “ You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to leave it behind on a ship that is rather unsteady in its command.” Aden made no move to unsling his rifle, though he patted his holster to show the pistol was still there.

"As you wish, young man." Volodar replied as he began removing his pistols from his brace. He turned his attention to Arkadios as he checked the chambers one by one. "It should not be difficult to pull enough civilians away from the Ardellian. There are certainly enough Inburians and Calarians here that will not wish to leave the continent. Keeping the noble girl in check is likely more important.

So," Volodar continued with a shrug, "I suppose the next order of business is leadership?"

The young lieutenant, the highest ranking member of the Air Service currently aboard," Volodar gestured to Yuri. "By regulation, he would be acting Captain, but Captain Arkadios is many years his senior. My suggestion is to disregard protocol in the name of expediency, if the young lieutenant does not dissent."

"I am happy to take on that role though I would require the advice and assistance of those more qualified to operate the vessel," Arkadios nodded to Yuri.

Yuri spoke with a sharpness he didn't have before, "No, no I don't dissent. Circumstances make the captain's experience more valuable by my appraisal." He gave a firm nod to Arkadios.

"Ah well, in that case, airman, let's do it." Arkadios agreed.

"Do you mind if we propose to title our commander,” Hamelin interjected, “Air Captain and the like. To make it clear to those who have not served, Captain is rank and title. Or we adopt the titles of our roles."

Arkadios gave that a moment's thought before shaking his head, "A reasonable idea, but I'm hoping we'll be in Grendel before too long and I'd rather not explain why I took a title that isn't mine. Custospada is perhaps seven hours away if we maintain a good speed. We take some time loading up, perhaps a day, then eight hours to Grendell? Give or take. We won't be on this ship for all that long," he said confidently, "I think we just tell the civilians who is in charge."

“Bridge protocol is to refer to role to avoid confusion." Yuri gave more rotely to the Favian, who in turn replied with a nod.

“Very well then,” Volodar said, and he seemed to smile for the first time in this meeting. “I suppose we can call this meeting adjourned then? I shall take the quarter closest to this armory for now. I believe our officers should make their way to the bridge and assume their posts.”

Empire of the Clouds

Volodar Naesandoral

Name: Volodar Naesandoral
Gender: Male
Age: 450ish
Nationality: Imperial
Appearance:

My Hider

Personal Effects: 6 Makarios C94 Pistols and web-gear, a Haltian Cavalry Sabre, a bear-skin hat, several books and manuscripts in Elgan, a small collection of jewelry and trinkets from around the world.

---

Background:

What is your job: Airship Pilot
Backstory: Volodar was born approximately 200 years before the Hasikos were restored to their imperial throne, and spent most of that time serving in the cavalry of the old Haltian armies that once dominated the battlefields north of the Circle Sea. With sympathies towards the reformist groups within the Empire, he remained within what is now the Imburian Empire after the Haitian defeats during the War of the Five Emperors and joined the newly established Imperial House Cavalry and served the Iburians in various functions, both on the field and in the barracks and palaces.

After a few decades of service with the Hasikos, Volodar resigned his commission with the Hastikos and decided to join the Monchian efforts to settle what would become the NordIsles in the Gulf of Equaterra, and managed to secure a governorship on one of the smaller island, more through conquest than appointment, despite little experience with government. This was arguably one of Volodar’s most productive ventures, as he effectively owned several plantations growing cash crops therefore improving the economic prospects of the island via what he viewed as an innovative workforce retention program and strict discipline of the laborers. He would eventually tender his resignation with grace in face of increasing demands from Vich.

Undeterred in his new situation, he turned his attention southward to the Calarian colonies in Equaterra in an attempt to weaken his old enemy, and found himself swept in with the spirit of revolution simmering through the region. Providing both money and expertise, he helped equip and build the Equaterran cavalry force, and lead a squadron through the revolutionary war. He found himself well suited to the guerilla nature of the war, although he was wounded by shrapnel twice and shot on one occasion. While recovering from his wounds, and a bout of tropical disease, he rested for a few years while enjoying his status as a minor hero and lived on a pension and accumulated plunder. Volodar made a comfortable life on the coast and served in a minor government post, before leaving Equaterra due to a scandal involving the President’s wife and another cavalryman.

From there, Volodar returned home to Imburia and Haltia for a few years due to the demands of certain family situations and to allocate his accumulated wealth towards projects at home. Here, he lived well and lived easy, enjoying frequent social events and balls as he reconnected with old circles and refreshed his lists of human contacts in Inbur. Such calm was not to remain, as his restlessness soon caught up to him again after two decades or so.

An era of increasing industrialization and a second wave of exploration greeted Volodar as he took on the mantle of adventuring again. The first flights of fancy were to the arctic and the ice sheets north of Frosseland. Rumor had it that it may be a navigable passage connecting the two seas, at least during the summer months. To say this expedition was a failure would be an understatement. The ships broke against the ice not long after departure from the northern trading posts in Frosseland, and the survivors of the ships had to make a perilous journey back to civilized territory through hellish colds and ice. They survived on good will from the natives, and whatever meat and pelts they managed to scavenge.

His second venture during this period was to chart some of the jungles far to the south of Finiquia and Sahk in the search for signs of an ancient civilization. Sailing up a mosquito infested river, tropical diseases plagued the expedition while hostile locals whittled down their numbers. It wasn’t all for naught though, because, after a 23 day trek through the jungle, he found a tribe of strange bird-like people, who he bartered with. Trading pelts, guns, and liquor for jewelry, artifacts, and coins, he obtained the proof that he sought and made the trek back home.

Once more, Volodar settled down in Inbur for a few more decades, and took up a rather stereotypical hobby: breeding and racing horses. This was a moderately successful venture for him, although a questionable financial decision as he invested quite a bit of funds but never produced a truly spectacular horse. Such is the nature of passion products.

Then an inventor approached him specifically, touting a new design for a machine. A machine that could enable one to fly like the birds through the heavens above, the airplane that promised heavier than air-flight. The concept enamored Volodar, who had previously been in a hot air balloon several times, and he eagerly funded its development and badgered the man to test fly the design once it had been finished, but the inventor held fast.

Dragged out to a flat along the coast of Inbur, the wooden and canvas craft sat gloriously in the middle of the field, and the crew started up the engine. Volodar watched with amazement as the man’s craft successfully lifted itself off the ground and climbed to about 100 feet, before it spectacularly crashed after the inventor lost control. The coinciding development of the rigid lighter-than-air craft also caught the Elga’s desire for flight, and offered a far safer and practical alternative which he funneled some funds into. Aiding such developments allowed him to take roles in the maiden flights of a few craft, an experience he very much enjoyed from both a physical and mental exercise and a flaunt of his own wealth.

The invasion of Inbur from the Calarians, once it began, posed an existential threat to the rather wealthy Elgan, who soon looked for means to flee the surrounding city. Upon seeing the craft tethered to the Imperial Palace, an idea crossed the old cavalryman’s mind. A bold idea that promised adventure, and gallantry.

Mitunbaal Vasiliou

Name: Mitunbaal Vasiliou
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Nationality: Inburian Shariq
Appearance:

My Hider

Personal Effects: A small collection of artifacts and trinkets from the formerly blighted territories, a Shariq prayer book, a few books, an icon of the Dawnbringer and Empress Andronika. She keeps a traditional dagger tucked under her smock.

Background: Academic. De-facto Ship’s medic

Backstory: Mitunbaal was born the eldest child to an upper-middle class Shariq family in Neapol, which she claims she can trace back to a noble family before the blight, and received a quality education due to the privilege. The young woman took to history from a young age, and found herself fascinated with the tales of her people before their exodus from the blight with its dreaded orcs. Better still were the tales during their triumphant return under the sword of the Dawnbringer, the heroics of man and elga against the ultimate evil with a noble and just cause from God himself.

It was half legend, of course, and Mitunbaal knew and understood that well even at a young age. That knowledge did not stop her from seeking formal study on the matter at the university in Neapol, focusing on both history and the archeology of the Shariq’s ancestral homelands. For as much as Mitunball enjoyed combing through tomes and what written accounts survived the collapse, she jumped at the opportunity to go on field expeditions throughout the territory.

While nature did recover from the blight and the orcs are extinct as far as the Shariq know, the scars still run deep in certain areas of the countries. This, naturally, draws curious sorts out to the unsettled, somewhat-unnatural country. It also does an explorer deep in central Shariq well to be armed, advice which one of the archeologists in her party did not heed while on camping. While relieving himself, the archeologist was assailed by a blighted beast. The beast, best described as a rabbit with fangs, the antlers of a deer, and a pair of useless wings had bitten and gored the poor man several times. It was dispatched by a load of shot from a double-barrelled shotgun that had been brought along.

For Mitunball, this served as an awakening. Between the poor man’s anguished cries, and hissing from the beast during the attack, and the wet blood, she felt a power rise inside her as she laid hands on the man. Like a legend of old, she felt a warmth flow from her hands as she wiped down one of the open wounds and, awestruck, watched the wound rapidly knit itself closed.

She had an undeniable gift from God that was almost unheard of in the modern era, the gift of healing magic.

Unfortunately, the remainder of this first expedition was mundane in comparison. They had merely found remnants of pottery. Useful, but not groundbreaking.

Once back in the Inburian Empire, she set off for Inbur instead of returning home. Her plan was to delve into the library of University of Constaninos II in search of books and manuscripts on magic and the blight that may have survived the fall of the city to the Haltians.

Unsurprisingly, the search was mostly an exercise in futility due to a lack of study and the sacks and sieges of Inbur. Additional research would need to be done in the former blighted territory, and pieced together with what records are available between Neapol and Inbur.

Bouncing between the two major metropolises when free also broadened the woman’s circles, and she found herself increasingly engaging with Shariq nationalists when not in the field or researching. Her experience, faith, and research mingled with those types of political rhetoric has since developed peculiar if not mystic views on Shariq nationalism. Their chosen one was Favian, not Shariq, and was a close companion to the Empress during the Hasiko restoration. To Mitunbaal, was that not God’s blessing on the house to rule the Empire and the Shariqs?

Naturally, this pro-Imperial, pro-Hasiko strain of Shariq nationalism proved unpopular with most Shariq nationalist, although Mitunbaal has published some articles in support of her fringe views under a pen-name.

More recently, Mitunbaal has found herself back in Inbur after a trip to mountains in the north of Shariq land, believed to be the starting point of the old blight, with the scarred land and mutated flora and fauna to prove it. Standing at the foot of the mountain where all that madness had started was humbling in a sense. Being at the epicenter of the near doom of her people carried a message of how small she was in the grand scheme that struck home harder than any book.

The question of why still gnawed at her, and she pushed herself to move further, to discover, to learn. To understand. Her companions, meanwhile, understood that venturing into or up a mountain that once held a true evil that killed untold people was likely not the greatest idea for their continued existence. With a struggle more verbal than physical, the party pulled Mitunbaal back to camp.

In Inbur, the rising tensions never bothered Mitunbaal’s own little world beyond uneasy dinners and increased political debate, until the Calarians finally crossed the border. Then the university exploded like a bomb. Young students swore for both sides turning the dormitories into brawling rings as quickly formed gangs targeted rivals. Archivists, including Mitunbaal, scrambled to evacuate reference material as the Calarians approached. She was in the libraries as the first shells landed in the city center.

Scrambling out of the building, she joined the mass of civilians trying to leave with what belongings she could carry. Evading the communalists, their infiltrators, and the fighting the best she could. She worked her way through side streets, until she found herself cornered by two insurrectionists. Muttering a prayer to herself, Mitunbaal closed her eyes while the sounds of hoofbeats grew closer and closer. A pistol shot shattered the tension, followed by another scream and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Without hesitation, she rushed the cavalryman and mounted before he could say a word. With barely a nod of an acknowledgment, he slowly brought his horse back up to a cantor.

Empire of the Clouds

Volodar Naesandoral & Mitunbaal Vasiliou

---

Anyone watching the approach that Iktani Roadster had torn through the fence would be greeted by the sight of a rider on horseback charging through it at full gallop. The horseman, though clearly focused on controlling his stead, appeared to be having quite the time of it. His smile must have been visible from the Gondola as he sped into a full-gallop towards the airship while riding as low to the horse as he could get in the saddle. He gave a laugh that that clearly caught the attention of his passenger, dressed in the traditional Shariq garb, who had been frantically looking to the sides before snapping to look towards the Elga.

"You are enjoying this far too much, sir," the yelled at him, and silently counting the seconds until they reached the Gondola's rope ladder to safety. With every hoof beat, they covered the ground to safety.

"There's nothing like war to quicken the heart, child," the horseman replied. He reached to his head and raised his hat, hoping to deter communicate that he was no threat to the assembling group that he was approaching. "This continent has known peace for far too long. It has grown lethargic.

"Then why aren't you with the army then, elf?" his passenger replied.

"The army did not stand before the City," he answered, "I have fought and bled for this empire before. I will not die because my lungs have burned from gas or put against the wall because some peacetime colonels couldn't organize a bar-fight."

They quickly came to the rope ladder, and came to a surprisingly graceful stop in spite of the rapidness of it all.

"Now dismount, grab your things, and climb, child," he sternly answered. "I will follow shortly."

The Shariq glared at the Elga for a moment, before relenting with a sigh. With a surprising amount of athleticism, she set about climbing the rope ladder with her belongings, entering into a congregation of civilians and military personnel who had beaten the wild horseman here.

The Elga, meanwhile, smiled at the assorted action around him. This group may be novices at handling an airship, but they certainly did have spirit. The mooring lines may have been all covered by various individuals trying to undo them, but some of those volunteers would need assistance returning to the rope ladder once the lines were loose. His saber would also undeniably come in handy if they had to cut the lines on a short notice. With a whistle, he set of to the nearest ad-hoc linesman at a trot.