Chapter 1
The Daring Titan
The purplish orange of the setting sky backdropped against the icy mountain peaks, as the Daring Titan pierced the clouds. Resembling a lance, suspended by long tarp-like balloons, and windows paneling the stock, the Daring Titan gracefully made its voyage across the sky, toward its destination.
An archipelago, that impossibly floated high in the air, the center island resembling a mountain with three peaks, cut from its base and flipped peak to summit; suspended in the air by unfathomable magic. Glowing rings floating above each peak, and 5 smaller islands flanking the outside: Ja Reyil, the Sentinel of Scanvias.
The forward deck of the Daring Titan was lined with windows that overlooked the skies above the Mountain Kingdom. The floors, a freshly lacquered wood paneling; covered the oblong half moon of the room, in which was scattered tables and chairs, which sat (from Sister Margaret’s estimation) at least 50 people. At the center a large obsidian obelisk, drilled with holes and turned into a water fountain; in which was inset within a circular bar, where a man with the facial composition of a leopard, wrapped in an apron, tended bar behind.
Sister Margaret, a small young woman, with curly firebrand hair, wearing a yellow sun dress, leaned against the brass handles of the forward windows of the daring Titan, and stared out agape. Large hoop earrings dangled from the side of her pale face, and jingling bracelets brushed up against a small silver chain wrapped around her right wrist that lead to a palm sized golden pendant, in the shape of a shield, on which a heart surrounding a Caduceus was carved.
This had been the first time Sister Margaret had traveled outside the Meril Cove, out from under the Shadow of the Silver Spire and careful watch of Grandmother Harkniss. To be on an Airship, traveling to a floating city was beyond her wildest dreams.
Sister Margaret leaned, nose pressed against the window, focused her eyes on the archipelago, floating seemingly still in the distance, "It's gorgeous! Isn't it, Da'La?" Sister Margaret, while talented in suppressing it, still spoke with the subtleties of her Mother Tongue.
She directed her question to her companion. Da'La was a C’Shyk, an amphbious reptile-like person, with an elongated monoconidial face, and scales that began as purple at the ridge of her nose, and faded into green, with the exception of her eyelids, which were a light magenta.
"Oui, Mon Divinica." Da'La spoke with a far more pronounced accent, that is, when she spoke. Da'La had been mostly quiet since Sister Margaret met her on the train from the Xerioux coast, where Sister Margaret had traded off her old Dek'Har for this new one. Orders from the Order.
For now, Da'La sat on the floor, her neck, which on the front glowed a dim pearlescent from her chin, moving down to at least her clavicle, only offset by the golden plates on the sides of her neck that acted as jewelry, was craned yet rigid, as her yellow eyes scanned the room for potential threats.
"We are in another land, Miss Da'La, I think we should keep to their tongue, so nobody thinks we're being secretive." Sister Margaret advised.
"Your visdom knows no bounds, Mon Divinica." Da'La said, flatly, as her eyes scanned the other guests of the Daring Titan. Sister Margaret could never tell if she was being sarcastic or just professional.
"Plus it's fun. You do fun, don't you?" Sister Margaret said cheerfully. Da'La didn't react, but resumed vigilantly watching the guests.
Sister Margaret sighed, she didn't know why she bothered. This new Dek'Har was just too... professional. She then turned her emerald eyes to the crowd. Aside from the bartender, a few people were of interest. A man in a brown duster at the back of the room lounged in a chair; feet kicked up, with which at first glance seemed to be a grey beard, but after a moment Maggie realized were actually tentacles that draped from what she presumed was his face, as it was currently covered by a wide brimmed hat. Nearby, A man at a table in a loosened unbuttoned waistcoat, surrounded by colleagues as they did shots of some clear liquid. Across the room, a Lady in a tight fitting red cocktail dress, with tanned skin and almond eyes enjoyed the company of two male suitors, both of which were half her age.
Along the backside of the room, Da'La eyed a party of 5, her fingers, wrapped in black wedding gloves fingered one of her two swords. Four of the men surrounded a larger four armed man, whom while he sat still had the height of his 4 companions. The large Veck man wore a purple vest, and baggy pants that matched. The top of his head was covered in a square hat, his outfit made him look amusingly like a large grinder monkey. He held an Oboe in three of his four arms, the other being bandaged, and sweet Oboe music filled the room from his playing. To his side, sitting bored on the ground was a small wiry man, with sandy hair, fidgeting with a knife, and sitting in a chair behind him, was a tall, though not nearly as tall as his large Veck companion, man wearing what looked like the blue traditional robes of Heret Betar, sporting a top knot black hair and a cool steely expression.
Halfway between them and Sister Margaret was a sandy haired, handsome young man, in a white button up shirt and suspenders, carrying a canvas messenger bag, and staring out into starboard bow.
Sister Margaret pushed herself whistfully away from the brass bars at the windows, "I'm going to go, mingle." Maggie said, airly. Da'La stood, swiftly, but not hurriedly, her heavy grey coat shuffling as she stood. "There's no need," Maggie said, not turning to her companion. "This isn't a dangerous crew."
"I am afraid, I must inzist." Da'La spoke, firmly.
Maggie weighed the idea of arguing, then sighed, "Just, don't embarrass me, please."
Margaret approached the sandy haired boy, the hop in her step catapulting her behind him. She suppressed a giggle as he didn't seem to notice her approaching. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She asked.
The boy jumped, clutching his bag. "Sorry, miss." He said nervously.
"First time away from home?" She asked, recognizing the expression.
"Y-Yeah. It's beautiful." The boy smiled, turning to Sister Margaret, as she beam.
"Blessing of Merne upon you." Sister Margaret said, almost automatically. Then regretted it immediately as the expression on the boys face became nervous. "Er... Maggie." She tried to recover, putting her hand out.
"Baron." The boy returned, taking her hand with a nervous chuckle.
"I'm new to this too... the traveling I mean." She added quickly. "May I ask what you're transporting?" Sister Margaret gestured to the bag.
Baron locked his eyes with Da'La, who glowered at him. "Er..."
"That's just, Miss Da'La, my companion." Maggie attempted to sooth.
"I think I have to go to the Water Closet." Baron quickly excused himself from the conversation. Maggie watched as he side shuffled, and hurried across the room, her face falling to a grimace. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, as she turned to her companion. Her mouth opened, as she made move to spit words at--
"Dahling, you mustn't come on so strong." An airy voice pierced the air. Maggie turned her head, and it was the woman with the suiters, her dark almond eyes seemed to penetrate Maggie's skin.
"I Wasn't--" Maggie started.
"Besides, a young girl like doesn't need to look for suitors, come sit." The woman spoke with an aristocratic certainty. The air around her practically radiating a sort of deserved self-importance. She held her wine glass in her fingers, delicately stroking the rim with her middle finger.
Maggie approached, baffled, "That wasn't what I was--"
"Lady Sun Wei." Woman spoke, ignoring Maggie's protestations. "And you're not from here."
"No, but what I was doing--"
"Was trying and failing at courtship." It wasn't a question. Sun Wei's eyes while playful, pierced deep, "It's ok, it's ignorance of youth, have a seat." Maggie, intrigue, obeyed. "It's so rare to see an outward girl. What do I call you?"
"Sister Margaret, most call me Maggie." Maggie, said nervously.
Sun Wei gazed at her, with a bemused smile, making Maggie feel uncomfortably like a display at a gala. "Don't see your like outside of Moughnif. And what praytell are you doing in the Floating City? Aside from striking out with the mailboy?"
Maggie smiled, "a mission, I've come to reopen the Pfharplace in Twilight Run. Resume the message of the 20 and 4 to the people of Ja Reyil."
"That place is still standing?" Sun Wei spoke, amused. "How quaint! And how noble of you to travel so far for your beliefs.
"Would—would you like to hear--" Maggie began.
"Oh, dear, no. I don't believe the words of any gods will save me now." Sun Wei gazed at one of her suitors. "But, you, you're awfully young for such an important mission."
Maggie blushed in embarrassment. "I happen to have a talent for church building…" she spoke defiantly.
"I think you'll find Ja Reyil is more difficult to save than a dilapitated church outside of the Meril Cove." Sun Wei teased. "It's the magic, you see, it makes people cynical, bitter--"
"Well, I think--" Maggie began but the music of the Oboe stopped, the silence penatrated the room
"Would you stop that?" She heard the small sandy haired man beside the large Veck. He had taken his attention off of his knife to chastise the large musical figure. Maggie, curiously turned her head.
"Leave him alone." The gravelly voice of the man in the top knot came next. The small wiry man and the man in the robes and top knot locked eyes. "Keep playing Lodak." Top knot said, without moving his gaze.
"It's ok, Kunjau." Lodak, the Veck spoke, his voice as large and deep as him. "Wyatt jus' bein' extra critical, on count o' his nerves..."
Kunjao grimaced at Wyatt.
"Will you excuse me?" Maggie asked Sun Wei, and without waiting for a response, and to Sun Wei's visible shock, she pivoted off of the chair, and moved toward the large Oboe player. Da'La moved behind her in toe.
"I liked the music." Maggie peacefully offered. Lodak looked up, or forward as his mammothite head still stood slightly higher than Maggie, though he sat on the floor. "It was beautiful." Da'La followed closely, eyeing the companions.
Lodak spoke "Fank you, mum. It's me pleasure."
Maggie's eyes narrowed on the bottom left hand of the gargantuan virtuoso. Noticing the bandage. "Is your hand hurt?" Maggie looked over, curiously.
"It's ok, bit o' 'n accident... restringin'." Lodak tried. Maggie ignored the obvious mistruth. She then gently grabbed his hand. Lodak nearly pulled away, and then looked at Maggie. Her hand glowed as she placed her hand over his. She spoke a small prayer. Lodak looked shocked at Maggie.
"Please, continue playing." She asked, sweetly.
"O'right." Lodak said in a daze, and grabbed his Oboe, his bandaged hand coming into play to finger the large woodwind and her continued sweet music melodic tune. Wyatt looked up glowering, but was returned with the face of Da'La. His eyes met hers, then drifted to the symbol on her grey coat. A set offset Vs formed into a diamond. He bit his tongue. Maggie, seemingly ignorant of this, walked toward the bartender.
The bartender, whose face resembled a leopard, a Taian, with pointed ears on the top of his head, wearing a black smock and a brown undershirt, smiled as he saw Maggie approach. "Welcome Miss, to da Daring Titan Bah. M'name is Babo, Can I be ahf service?" His accent was thick, coming from the far west.
Maggie Smiled, kindly, "I will take a tea, if I can get it."
The bartender smiled, hearing Maggie, and returned in Merilian "Is that all you wish for, Madamoiselle?" Maggie noted his Merilian to be far better than his Fahd'n.
She smiled, returning back in her mother tongue, "Your pronunciation is impressive. But the honorific is Ma soeur, or mon divinica." Maggie said, kindly, revealing her sigil dangling from the chain on her hand.
Babo's eyes grew wide. "Ma Soeur!" He pointed his hand to the sky, and curled the middle finger over the index and kissed is. "Please, I beg your pardon, I hadn't realized you were a Ypfhar. Please, no need to pay for the tea." Babo said, hurrildy, bowing his head in reverence.
Maggie calmly raised her hand. "How about, we just continue the conversation in Fahd'n?" She placed a silver Kord on the table, which hit the table with a cling.
"Ah, yes, Mon divinica." He said, as he with one motion plucked a set of herbs from underneath the bar, and a silver kettle. He touched the side of the kettle and red lumination drew itself along the lines of the pot in the patterns of an intricate filigree. Almost seconds later he was pouring hot water over the herbs in the cup. "Would you like to be hearing the, how you say..." Babo paused for a second, thinking.
"News, Babo." A gentle voice came from the other side of the bar. A golden haired man, with a five O'clock shadow, wearing a white smock and carrying a box of wine, walked into entrance of the bar.
"Thank you, Cyrus." Babo recognized him, and turned back. "Would you like to be hearing of da news?"
Maggie turned to the newly entered Cyrus for a second, gauging him, then turning back to Babo. "That sounds lovely."
"Right now, de trials of the Grand Magistrate is still da under way. They have been doing with the selection quite slow. But the... how you say... the thing that they select for..."
"The election, Babo." Cyrus chirped in, the clangs of wine bottles singing around him, as he restocked the bar.
"Yes, the process--" Babo continued.
"Excuse me." Maggie started. "Why do you keep correcting him?" Maggie shot her eye toward Cyrus.
"Ah, well you see, Babo doesn't speak Fahd'n too good, so I--" Cyrus began.
"But he hasn't asked for your help. Where I come from it's quite--" The Oboe stopped. Silence deafened the room.
"May I have everyone's attention?" The sandy haired, lanky and fidgety man, who had been nervously sitting next to the playing Veck, stood on a table, holding what appeared to be a set of daggers dangling on a thing wire, as the other four, including the Veck, were stood straight up. The man smiled, and with an air of theatrics, announced: "This is a robbery."
The room grew cold. Maggie looked to her companion, whose eyes were locked on the group of five. The large kindly Veck man, whose sullen face looked doubtfully at his companions held a bag, draped limp, in his lower left hand.
"Now, if you fellas would awl be very kind. Please deposit your valuables into the bag my friend is holding." He began to march around the room, first walking to Lady Son Wei. Lady Son Wei gave him a bemused look, chucked and deposited her ring and bracelets in the bag.
"What do we do?" Maggie asked. She was frozen.
"Just stay still, Mon divinica. I vill take care of it." Da'La grabbed at her coat, taking a step toward the ragtag robbers, her other hand grabbing one of her swords.
"No." Maggie said sharply. Da'La's eyes shot at Maggie, not anticipating this. "Stand down, we don't want people to get hurt." Da'La grit her beak, and relaxed, standing at duty.
The group moved toward Baron, who clutched his messenger bag. "I don't have anything." Baron protested.
"Then 'ow bout the bag, sport?" Wyatt grinned, gesturing to Lodak to open the bag further.
"No," Baron barked, his face growing pale "I can't!" Baron's nervousness met a fever pitch, as backed into the glass, his knuckles whiting on the strap of the bag.
Wyatt's grin grew wide. "Too bad." He lashed out a dagger from his hand, which pulled taught against the wire it was attached to, and he used the leverage to bring dagger glinting and wheezing with incredible force, gouging Barons arm. Blood spilled from the gash, staining Baron's shirt. Baron let out of a welp and dropped the messenger bag. He grabbed this arm, it pouring with blood. The air in the room was collectively sucked through the gasps of the attendance, and then grew still.
"Ok--" Maggie turned to Da'La, who crouched at ready, grasping her blades.
Wyatt released the other dagger, and using his weight as a counter balance, brought both daggers from the left side of Baron, the whirring tearing open his chest, his shirt deepening in crimson. Baron cried in anguish, falling to his knees, grasping his chest as if to keep the barrels of blood from spilling out. Wyatt, grimacing like a madman, caught one of the daggers and pulled it back to throw--
BANG.
From across the room, like a thunderclap; an explosion of force filled the room and rung the ears. Wyatt spun from some invisible impact, and dropped to the ground, followed by the diving of the majority of those in attendance, as the moved under tables and behind chairs. The man in the duster was stood from his chair, his hat shadowing his octopus-like face. A Xericoz. He was tall. His skin was grey, and his eyes a coal black. He had ridges on the side of his head, with coral patterns of a spectrum of grey, and tentacles dangled to his chest from where a normal mouth would be. In his hand, a grey steel object, the resembled a steel pepperbox with a curved wooden handle, which at the moment was pointed toward where Wyatt had done his sadistic assault.
"Stop." The man said. His voice was like an echoey whisper. It took a second for Maggie to realize she was not hearing him with her ears, but his words seemed to resonate in the back of the head, and fool the mind into thinking they heard it. A raspy whisper that cascaded through the mind. "You're under arrest."
Wyatt stood, holding his shoulder which was slowly being painted red from some wound. He turned to the lawman Xericoz. "Yer going to regret that." He rushed the lawman, who returned another thundering shot from his Pepperbox, his Brown Trenchcoat waving from the blowback of the pistol. Wyatt quickly sidestepping at the same time as the shot. A crack in the window beside the bleeding Baron. Two of the compatriots of Wyatt stared at each other for a moment, and unsheathing swords from their scabbard, they followed the wild Wyatt.
Wyatt let out one of his daggers toward the lawman, who quickly used his gun to block, the mirror blade glinting off the side of the black steel pepperbox; but the second dagger, which came wide from his left, scored up the gun arm of the Xericox Lawman, the pepperbox falling and skidding across the floor.
"Now, Da'La." Maggie spoke quickly.
Da'La nodded, and with a single motion, threw away her heavy coat and unsheathed her two sword a Katana and Wakasashi. Like a highly trained ballerina, Da'La jeté'd across the wood floor with focus and purpose moving to cut the two armed lackys behind Wyatt at the pass. She lept through the air, and with a croise kick she spun with her blades outward, which glinted like a dance to the tune of steel tearing through flesh and the beat of the yelp of the robber. Da'La landed one foot, swung her back leg around, and like a dance partner, Da'La spun around the first thug with a cartwheel and a swing of her swords, managed to trip the second lacky. She stood between them, her swords out pointed toward the ground.
Kunjao smiled, still standing by his Veck friend. He locked eyes with the Cy'Shyk dance, and with a grin unsheathed his sword, a longer version of Da'La's longest sword, and spread his feet into a stance. He sized up his opponent. She wore a skin tight black suit, which hugged against her petit and short frame, with small plates of metal strategically placed along her left side. She was an experienced fighter. He locked eyes with the dancing Cy'Shyk, who squat in a pose, at the ready.
"No, Kunjao." The thundering voice of his companion came from behind, his large hand resting on his friend.
"What are you doing, Lodak? This is a job." Kunjao said through gritted teeth, as he put one wooden sandled foot in front of him.
"Not a good one. And her an' 'er friend are good people." Lodak took off the bandage from one of his hands, showing a clean hand to his friend.
"How..." Kunjao looked at the hand of his friend.
"I don' know. But dis ain't our fight." Lodak looked pleadingly at his friend.
Kunjao looked between Da'La and the Veck. With a stern, strained face. "Fine." Kunjao stepped quickly into action, and charged toward the Cy'Shyk while his friend intook air. Kunjao narrowed his eyes, and with a pivot ran past Da'La, who her blades acting as one, she spun and chopped toward him. Kunjao ducked under her blades, as they danced and swiped at him, he slid on the laquered wooden floor as he heard the whir of the dancing master's sword go above him. He straightened up and continued his run toward Wyatt, "'m at least gonna take that basterd down." He said, running.
Wyatt continued to swing wildly at the lawman, who despite all appearance was quite agile in his ducking and weaving. He weaved around the long swings of the daggers, running toward a table and sliding under it, as the two daggers hit the ground behind him, sticking to the wood. Wyatt didn't notice Kunjao closing the distance. "Should have just let the boy die, my kalamari friend." Wyatt grinned sadistically, as he pulled taught at his wire daggers in the wooden table.
The Xericoz Law man sat with his back to the table, eyeing his gun from across the room. He looked over the frame of the table to see the Top Knotted samurai running across the room.
Kunjao plunged his sword into the small of the back of Wyatt, who gave an angry yell. Wyatt pulled hard at the wire of his dagger, ripped it from its resting place, and flung it backwards digging the cold steel into Kunjao's shoulder. It dug deep into his clavical, a sickening crunch meeting the impace, and red began pool around it, staining his robes. Kunjao quickly flashed his sword, severing the wire.
"That's the last time you do that, friend." Kunjao spoke through his teeth, as he pulled the dagger from his arm, with a sickening tear. The blood pooled out and formed a large splotch in his robe. Wyatt pulled on the other Dagger, his eyes locked on his former companion.
BANG.
Wyatt's face frozen in shock, his body bucked and heaped onto the ground. Wisps of smoke came from a long silver cylinder covered in an intricate filigree that glowed a faint orange, leading to a wooden stock at the shoulder of the lawman, who peaked over the table, down the sights of his silver rifle, the Messenger.
Maggie, using the calm, rushed to Baron, who lay in heap behind Lodak, his body in a pond of crimson. He gurgled. In a rush, Maggie grabbed her sigil and began a small chant, her hands began to shine a golden hue, and she reached out over the torn wounds.
The Lawman had sauntered across the room, and retrieved his pepperbox. He inspected Wyatt, whose eyes still opened in a mad fury, but were still and looking toward the filigree of the ceiling, that shined an orange light that brightened the room. The lawman looked to Kunjao. "Is that all of them?"
"No." Lodak spoke, walking toward them. "We're team A."
"And who, exactly, is Team B?" The Lawman locked his eyes on the gentle giant.
"Grimjaw." Kunjao spoke. "He's the leader of this ordeal, 'e hired us to collect valuables while he looted the cargo."
Maggie looked over Baron, who had passed out due to the pain, but his wounds had now disappeared, leaving only the blood stains, but otherwise it was as if he was never harmed; she stood and turned toward the rest.
"Well, good news, you," The Lawman's eyes feel upon Kunjao, "and the Cy'Shyk," the Lawman gestured to Da'La, who, swords sheathed, had returned to the side of Maggie, "Are deputized."
"I'm coming too." Maggie approached, clutched her symbol in her red stained hands.
"Deputized?" Kunjao, momentarily taken aback, sheathed his sword. "You realize I'm part of this outfit, right?"
"You also attacked the other guy." The Lawman said, ignoring Maggie, "And it's not like I have a lot to work with."
"I'm coming too." Maggie repeated herself, her eyes narrowing at the man.
"So just like that? I hurt one guy and suddenly I'm yer best mate?" Kunjao asked, disbelieving.
"I mean, who else am I going to bring along, the Aristocrat?" The Lawman said, "The drunk in the corner, soon as he picks up his lunch--"
"I'm coming too!" Maggie nearly screamed.
"And who are you?" The Lawman turned toward the small redhaired girl, who walked toward her.
"Sister Margaret, Ypfhar of the Order." Maggie spoke through her teeth, with a steely eyed certainty. "And you are?"
"A Ypfhar?" The Lawman chuckled. He looked around the room, "Good, a lot of these people are in need of prayer. How about you attend to that?"
"You didn't answer my question." Maggie returned.
After a pause, the Xericoz Lawman locked his deep charcoal eyes with the emerald eyes of the priestess. "Sheriff Star, and I don't need you."
"If you want my Dek'Har, I come along." Maggie said strongly, realizing at that moment her heart, pounding in her chest as Star coolly watched her. "No, actually, I will be going either way." Maggie corrected.
Star nearly spoke, before Lodak stepped forward. "Me too, I told Kunjao to 'elp. I wanna come too."
Frustrated, Star turned. "Anyone else want to join? I'm sure the boy in a pool of his blood is mean with a sword as well, soon as he picks his intestines off the ground!"
Maggie reached out her hand, it glowing gold, and moved it over the torn ravine that pooled from Star's arm. Star watched in amazement as the wound closed, and the flesh over it healed rapidly, following her golden hand. "I think you'll find we're more useful than you think."
The halls of the Daring Titan were floored with a red carpet, and a golden decorative trimming that went along the edge. The walls were covered in wood paneling, and doors with small portholes that bulged slightly from near the top. The ceilings were vaulted, and covered in an intricate filigree, pattern carved into the wood, with magic symbols, that glowed a light blue and shone light brightly down the corridor.
"Who is Team B?" Star asked, as he, Kunjao, Lodak, Da'La, and Maggie rushed down the hall.
"There's Tuktuk and Nikpan, they're scouts. They work together, mainly. Nikpan is quick and wiley, while Tuktuk covers him with his casting." Kunjao said, running alongside the lawman. "Then there's Grimjaw and Boomboom. They're insane. Grimjaw particularly is under the delusion he's a privateer from the Magic Wars, and well... Boomboom."
"I can guess." Star said. His eyes forward. They came to a sharp bend that made its way right. The hallway was similar down this way, but ended in a reinforced door, with a sign that said "Cargo 4" over the top of it. Halfway down, the right side of the hallway opened up, instead of doors it was a large opening with three wooden posts acting as supports and breaks for the opening. Da'La lifted her hand.
"Zat is perfect ambush spot." She hissed to Star, who halted the rest of the group.
Star looked at her, while she looked back at Maggie. Maggie gave a nod, and Da'La closed her eyes. Her skin and clothes shifted slightly to a wooden color, which if Star were not paying attention, wouldn't look out of sorts against the wooden panel of the walls. While not nearly a perfect disguise, Star thought, if one weren't directly looking for her, she'd be difficult to see.
Da'La straddled the right wall, approaching the opening silently.
"How long are they going to take?" Came an impatient voice from the open room.
"As long as they need to," returned a calmer, nasally voice.
Da'La moved up, and peered in. The calm voice came from a small man, maybe 4 foot in height, with hair that resembled quills that began a fiery red, and ended blonde at the peaks, and a large ridged forehead. A Nyrian, wearing a leather vest, that was more buckles than animal hide, with a scabbard and a sword at his waste, and a belt brimmed with satchels and pockets. His companion, a Cy'Shyk with Orange scales that started yellow at the nose, was wearing a torn long jacket, with an interlining that at one point may have been a silky green, but through years of misuse had turned patchy and dull. His hands covered in holey gloves, that ill fit him.
"That damn Grimjaw, he's fucking with us, he's not going to give us shit." The Cy'Shyk paced up and down the room, while his companion calmly looked at a vial in his hand.
"Calm down, these things take time..." The small Nyrian spoke slowly.
Da'La sidled back against the wall, and headed toward her companions, she dropped her camouflage as she moved within speaking distance. "Two men, a Nyrian and a Cy'Shyk. The small vone is calm, and the Cy'shyk is pacing oop and down ze room." Da'La informed in a whisper.
"That'd be Tuktuk and Nikpan" Lodak said in a hushed whisper.
"Means that cargi room's probably where Grimjaw is." Kunjao spoke behind his companion.
Star lifted his pepperbox, readying it.
"Whoa there," Kunjao placed his hand on the pepperbox calmly. "One shot from that thunder machine, and Grimjaw will know something's happening."
"So, what should we do, just ask them politely to pass?" Maggie asked.
Lodak smiled, "Tha's exactly what we're gonna do." He turned to Kunjao. "Me an' Kunjao are gonna go talk to 'em, maybe distract them and take them down, an' you guys can sneak past and get through that door."
Star's mind whirled at the bewilderment of the plan, but to his shegrin he couldn't muster a better one. He nodded. They watched silently as the pair approached.
"Kunjao!" Came Tuktuk's nervous voice. "How did it go?"
"Lodak's got the bag." Came Kunjao, Star watched as he gestured toward the giant holding the burlap bag. A clanging of pieces the wood of the bench went through the hallway.
"They 'ad a proper lady up there, this be worth the trip alone." They heard the booming voice of Lodak subtly move through the halls, they heard the gentle clink of Lodak's bag.
"Wait a minute, where's Wyatt?" Came the calmer voice. An unsheathing of a sword came quickly afterward, followed by a dull thud of a gigantic fist and a yelp. A crash of some glass echoed through the hallway, and the open room filled with smoke.
"Now!" Star hissed, moving forward, darting passed the room their companions had come in, that was now filled with a thick white steam.
"Shouldn't we help them?" Maggie whispered, panicked as she ran behind Star.
"You can if you want." Returned Star, as he moved toward the cargo door under the cover of smoke. Maggie looked into the room, unable to make out the silhouettes, she attempted for a moment to make heads or tails of the scene in front of her eyes, but it was indistinguishable shadow puppet theatre as far she was concerned. She turned and followed the lawman, heart beating through her chest.
Star reached for the door, locked. "Shit." The psychic tremor went through Maggie and Da'La's head, making Maggie's heart leap for a second. "Don't suppose your gods can unlock a door," He turned to Maggie.
"Not exactly a talent they teach at--" Maggie began.
"Step aside." Came Da'La, who moved to the door, and knelt at the tumbler. She deftly reached into the rolled canvas as the small of her back, and retrieved two small picks. She placed them in the keyhole and moved them slightly, adjusting pressure, and with a deft flick of her wrist the satisfying click rang out. She opened the door, while replacing the picks with her offhand. Star's face lifted in what must have been a smile, and he moved in immediately.
Maggie stared at her companion, silently.
"Part of ze training, I azure you, ma soeur." Da'La smiled. Maggie had never seen her companion smile.
Maggie moved into the dark cargo room behind Star. The room was large, made mostly of steel with a tall tarp ceiling and steel rafters stretching end to end. Boxes, barrels, crates, and chests piled on top of each other, held down by tarp screwed to the floor filled the room, leaving some room for the ground to negotiate through. The floor was wooden, though not polished like the forward deck, and covered in dust that stung the nose.
Star moved along the boxes, to a lamp that shone in the dark room. Under the lamp was a large cast iron safe, black and covered in filigree and runes that shone a deep blue. Going over it with a silver wire was a blue skinned Xericoz, wearing an old style frock and knickerbottoms, and white puff shirt, with elaborate cuffs, and most oddly, a Tricornered hat gently placed on his octopus like head. He hummed to himself as he moved the wire over the filigree, sparks coming from the blue light, shorting the magic.
The Xericoz chuckled, his chuckled surpassing the ears and into their minds. He grasped the clasp of the large iron door, and with a grunt began to open it. Da'La took initiative.
She moved quickly, starting to close the gap between her and the squidfaced privateer. A pop from the air beside her, she stopped and looked to her left as a black tarlike substance hit her quickly on the side, propelling her and sticking her to a crate. Maggie looked up, and standing on the box was a short man, a Taian with literal mouse like features whose eyes shone yellowish green through the darkness, staring directly at her. His yellowed sharp teeth grinned, as he held a small sphere in his right hand.
A CRACK came from Star's rifle, as the Taian jumped down quickly through the crates. The Xericoz buccaneer stood up and turned toward the group, his coat waving as he locked his coral eyes on Star. "Grimjaw, I suppose." Star said, training his eyes on the Xericoz.
"Prithy, whom am I speaking with" A genteel voice came from the Xericoz.
"Sheriff Star. You're under arrest." Star said, matter-of-factly.
"Is that so?" Grimjaw's voice sounded almost amused. "Boomboom?" He called. And in that instant, a flash of light and deafening crack filled the space between them. Maggie hit the floor, dazed, her mind echoing and her ears ringing a pitch of pain. She felt shuffling through the ground. Through her blurry gaze, she saw a crack of light coming from something Grimjaw was holding, and heard a shout which even her mind muffled, as she saw the outline of Star hit the floor.
She grasped her Sigil, "Merne give me strength." She pleaded, as she began to chant. Her vision cleared as her eyes glowed gold for a moment. Energy filled her every pour as she slowly found her footing, standing, gesturing toward Star, the blackened wound on his chest receded. She then turned to Da'La, and gestured her hand toward her. A crackle of lightning, and from a thin wire in Grimjaws hand, an electric bolt screamed through the dark room and made purchase on Maggie's shoulder. Her body and heart froze, as she stood paralyzed, and shaking by the current of electricity flowing through her body.
"You should have stayed back, girl." Grimjaw boomed through the cargo hold. He took step toward them, passed a tarped crate, his coral eyes locking on Maggie. He readied another charge through his wire at the young girl with firebrand hair, but Da’La, performing a spinning gainer, with both blades out, lept off of a box on the side of Grimjaw, still coated in a now crumbling tar sliced, she through his back. Grimjaw took a knee as a gasp of pain rippled through everyone’s collective minds.
Da'La stood in a dancers pose above him, as he unsheathed a sword "If that's how ye'll have it," She spun on his knee, and lunged at the dancer stabbing his Rapier at her. Da'La crossed her swords automatically, and caught the blade as it was inches from her chest. From the corner of her eye she could see the mousey man climbing over the crates. She heard the crack of flint and the hissing of a fuse, her eyes turned as the absolute madman lifted his arm with a small metal sphere for overhand toss.
BANG! BOOM!
The deafening sound of Star's pepperbox filled the air, followed by an explosion of force above Da'La's head, that sent her and Grimjaw straight to the ground. Da'La's head ached and ears tinned, as it hit the wood, and a copper sweet taste filled her mouth. She laid for a second, as she felt rustling near her. Grimjaw climbed to his knees, staring upward. "Boomboom!" He yelled, and directed his eyes toward Star, who was holding his head, a trickle of blood going down it from stray shrapnel, and the deafening sound throbbing through it. He moved his wire directly toward Star, "You bastard."
Star stared down the wire, moving his gun before he felt his arm pushed by the surprising amount of force summoned by the small red haired girl, and he hit the ground, as a bolt of lightning cascaded across the room. Maggie stood still, grasping her sigil, and the electric shock crackled against a golden light dome that shone out from her, deflecting toward a box.
The swing of a curved sword, hit the wire in Grimjaws hand, and Da'La, in a single motion, moved her foot inward, and spun, her swords forming a windmill and dancing across his back as she pivoted in her deadly ballet. She stopped with her back turned to him, flipped her swords, and drove both behind her, the tips of her swords tearing the body and sticking through the lapels of Grimjaws frock. His shirt stained red. His tricornered hat dropped to the ground, for a moment Grimjaw hung on Da'La's curved blades, then collapsed on his hat.
A silence overtook the room as Da'La sheathed her swords, and ran toward Maggie. "Mon Divinca, are you hurt?" She said, rushed.
"I'm fine," Maggie said, hushed, turning toward Star as he made his way to his feet. He looked down at the collapsed Grimjaw, and up at the two ladies who made his company. To the blade dancer who rushed in, and the small firebrand girl who took a bolt of lightning for him, even if deflecting it for a moment. "Thank--"
The door slammed open, and a procession of feet stormed the room. Star's heart jumped as he pointed his pepperbox toward the door. A man with rusty cropped top, and leathery skin, wearing a thick cloth vest over a white long sleeved shirt, weaved his way through the boxes toward them. "HALT!" His voice boomed through the room, in a sharp Reyilian Brue. "Corporal Piques, Airship Daring Titan Security. Drop yer weapons an' surrender." The rust top man spoke as he ,ad a bee line toward the party.
A pregnant pause filled the room, as Security personel flanked all sides. Star dropped his gun, and Da'La her blades as they positioned themselves around them.
"Where in the twelve hells have you been?" Maggie demanded.
DM’s Notes: This was the first session, started nearly two years, started after a long hiatus from GMing. Schancier, the world and the system I use to run it, is of my own design, and the world itself, well is atraditional. I had decided long ago to make a fantasy world with none of the traits found in fantasy. My failure at this resulted in this world. The races, the culture, and general feel of the game were all created in sleepless nights by myself. As such, I will try to organically explain the details as we go along.
The plans for this diary is to both share the experience made by myself and the players, and act as a cohisive story. While I will be attempting to stick closely to the events and actions of my players, I have made some liberties for a good story (though that is kept at a minimum). I will be using this section to explain things I can’t fit in the narrative whenever possible, as well as talk about behind the screen things that occurred during the session.
The funny thing about this session, is while I planned it for 4 players, only two players were able to make it for the first few sessions, Maggie and Star (Da’La was acted by me, but mechanically run by Maggie’s player). As such, the story moved at a clip, but was interestingly focused on two or three characters. While other players would join later. This ended up being a good thing, because I was still balancing the new mechanics this iteration of Schancier had.
This session ended up being a blast, with my players welcoming me back to behind the screen.
Written by: Jack Shawhan
Proofread and edited by: Alhana Escher
Original Characters played by:
Donovan Hill - Maggie
Stephen Kirk - Star
Schancier and all associated, Copyright 2020, Jack Shawhan.
