The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Roleplay => Serious RP => Topic started by: Aldrea945 on June 05, 2018, 05:26:14 PM
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The clicks and hisses of cooling steam engines welcomed Kikara home to those rickety docks. Even as cold burned her nose and the snow blinded her, it made her giddy. Finally, finally home. Well, sorta. As much a home as half empty buildings and closed factories could be.
Airships rose all around her. Some towered over the Taneris, freighters or scrappers coming in for an easy night. Most were dirty, haggard. The storms had grown so much worse in the past months. They threw even Blackbird city ships for a loop, and smaller ships often wound up as piles of metal. These ones were probably not the full accompaniment to leave the last port. Poor souls.
In between the massive barges were smaller ships, ranging from skimmers used by ore mining crews to a few ships that probably weren’t bought on the main market. If the big dogs looked worn, these small ones just made Kikara wince. Holes in the decks, shattered wings, tattered back up glide-masts – they all looked like they had gone to bed with feral Stormies and come back missing their heads. Not the way to come back to waiting employers. She’d know.
Compared to those ship shaped scrap piles, the Taneris looked positively lovely. Her copper and steel plated hull gleamed, the wood hidden from the elements. The wings trimmed in like a swan, and the ample stern gave her a majestic vibe. The curling bow ornamentation rose level with the back, shielded with thick glass to work under. The only damage were the long scratches along the port and singed rudder. Kikara had held up in a cave while the storm buffeted the open sky and cliffsides, flying faster than was safe when the lull hit. The engines were worth the money after all. (Ask her belly, though, and it had not been a fun few weeks.)
She pulled her notepad out, running over the list of places to hit. No crew meant for long trips city side, and Creya liked her to have her ducks in a row before she set out again. Food, forge, supply restock, fabric drop off… All before she could go see Creya for the next job. Kikara sighed. Maybe she’d get lucky this time and she’d find a few crewmates. You know, the ones that didn’t drink till they fell into a dragon’s maw.
Wouldn’t that be a miracle?
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Wilco was in the tavern in Ruinese City, serving customers. His guardian, an old man by the name of Tom, was chatting to a few customers, smiling. Wilco finishes the beer run and sits down, checking the keg for any leaks. Satisfied with the stability of it, He gets up and cleans a few glasses.
He looked outside, not surprised to see guards coming in every now and then. He handles their requests and afterwards, settles in for a long night.
The tavern was in the middle of Ruinese City, near the city centre. It made for good business, yet problems arose easily, given it's purpose. Drunk brawls, language barriers (Mostly on Wilco's behalf), and drugs and black marketers plagued the tavern, less so since He took over it and got the guards to come, either on a daily or weekly basis, depending on what their up to. He appreciated the security, given that he knows that his old man will up and drop one day...
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Pyro stood over a red-hot plate of steel. He had just finished patching it up, since the last storm damaged the hull piece of what once was a glorious airship. Right now, he was fortifying as he punched the metal in a rythmic pattern. The dull hits echoed over the terrain. He checked the result. It was not going to last. Pyro sighed. The metal had become brittle, and the scrap metal he used in the process was of low quality as well. He pulled his mouth as he tempered it in water. It was the best he could do nowadays. He put it aside on the finished pile. After that, he looked around at the buildings and factories, almost like he was working in a ghost town.
Ruinse and ruins, he thought. They sound the same, and it likely won't be long before they actually are the same.
His vision trailed to the surrounding mountains. They made him wonder if there was a better life out there. A happier life. Sure, he liked his job. But something was missing somewhere. He couldn't place his finger on it, but there was this always-present feeling that his life was incomplete. One day, though, he would find out. He picked up the next project, a broken wing frame, and tried to focus on his job as he made a fix attempt. Despite his best efforts, his mind wandered off and he wished a brighter future would come.
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Near the outskirts of Ruinse sat the smallish Church of the Fractured Machine. The steel-and-wood structure faced the white wasteland, icicles gleaming in the sun. Over the horizon, a red gleam of light seemed to call out to the church, the church ringing its bell in response. Father Andreas Gorrim, the old squirrel that stood as the church's Father, stood in the window, smiling towards the red light.
Rayleonarde Blackburn, a disciple of Gorrim's, lowered the signal lantern and snuffed the flame. He hiked his leather pack higher up on his back and made his way towards home. The icy wind nipped at his semi-exposed face and the chill seeped through his fur-lined clothes. Barbarically made, yes, but the clothes were vital to Ray's faith. Though ice and snow clung to his clothes, it did not bother the raccoon. A fiery zeal burned within his gut, extreme in nature and stalwart in its task. Ray looked up to the city's skyline as he approached.
Gorrim's been making more and more noise about going on a proper expedition, Ray thought to himself. Perhaps today will be the day.
Ray approached the church's doors and stepped inside.
"Father Gorrim," called the raccoon. "I've returned!" Gorrim cautiously descended the stairs, the large brass cane he carried supporting his every step.
"Very good, my son. Did you discover anything of import?" The old squirrel's eyebrow raised in curiosity. Ray hung his head, bowing before the Father.
"No, Father. I scoured for hours in the valleys and glaciers. Only ship parts and lost crewmen met me."
"Did you bury them, Ray?"
"Of course, Father."
Gorrim removed his glasses, cleaning them on his sleeve, as he spoke. "Good. We will need the good faith of the commonfolk if we ever wish to reach the Machine. It's clockwork turnings have given me another vision. A ship, pristine in its stature, will carry you farther on your journey. I know now the Machine has chosen you. You will find it, my son. And you will bring it back."
Ray's eyes lit up as he looked up at Gorrim. "Really, Father? But I've not been with the church for more than two-and-twenty years..."
Gorrim chuckled as he reseated his glasses. "It doesn't matter, Ray. You've equal faith in the Machine as we all do. The Machine will be our salvation, and you our savior. Go now, find the vessel I described, save these people Ray."
Ray nodded and turned to leave. "Praise be to the Machine, Father."
Gorrim shuffled to his favorite armchair by the furnace and responded with a wave. "Praise be, young Rayleonarde."
The raccoon stepped back outside, and headed for the city. He assumed the best place to find would be at the city's main docks, so he corrected course and made his way there.
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While hammering, Pyro heard the distant church bells. He didn't stop to listen. He'd visited that church only once, and what he saw didn't appeal to him. The Order of the Fractured Machine, he recalled. Believing in supernatural metal. Sure. It sounds way too far-fetched. It doesn't even sound like a real god to me. I mean, seriously? How do they have any followers at all? Or am I missing something? He made his hammer strikes more violent as he thought about it. Forging was actually a pretty good stress reliever. He almost didn't notice he finished the frame. He tempered it and put it aside. There was no more work for now, so he kicked back next to the oven. The cold hardly reached here because of the smelting going on. He ignored the ringing and stared at the airships going to and from town. His eyes rested on the Taneris because it stood out from all the other ships. Somewhere, he longed to work with something like that. Higher quality steel and copper. His hands tingled just thinking of working with it. If only he could try a hand at it. If only...
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The crowd milling around the town square steered clear of Kikara, giving the massive woman ample room to trot along. The list of tasks clutched in her hand, she headed for the forge. The metal she’d put an advance order in for - sent back with a messenger skimmer much faster than any storm - were hopefully ready. She’d spotted the tiny skimmer in its dock. Sails were intact, so they should have arrived on time. Hopefully.
Cobblestone had been cleared in most of the districts of the snow and ice from the night previous. Her boots clacked softly, metal reinforcing the back of the heels against old brick. It cleared her mind to her it. It meant solid ground. It meant, if nothing else, the illusion of safety.
The forge wasn’t far from the docks, just a fifteen minute walk. It wasn’t a welcoming smell for Kikara - singed metal always smelled of dragon’s breath to her - but it was familiar. Her last set of crewmates had contained a blacksmith. She’d been excellent, but a bit… flighty. Right off the side of a cliff. Hence why parachutes and glide wings were required when going out. Including those with wings.
She stepped into the heat, her fur ruffling up. A small bag, loaded with the money for the metal. She’d made sure to pop a few gems in for the short notice. Might even turn their favor to help her find someone to join her.
~~~
(OOC: Hey, if anyone has trouble posting like I do, use Chrome. Firefox, ironic as the name is, won't allow it.)
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Pyro wasn't the one who got tasked with Kikara's delivery, but he saw her approaching from a distance. He noticed her looking around in an unusual way- almost if she was looking for something. Or, perhaps, someone. He stepped up and told her, "You seem to be troubled by something. Is there anything I-" -he glanced over to the rest of the forgery to correct himself- "we- can do to help?"
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Ray wandered towards the docks, his head turned slightly to allow his one good eye to see as much in front of himself as possible. The inner city always seemed daunting to Ray, the airships in particular. On his few long-range expeditions, the raccoon had witnessed the ships fail and crash in the white wasteland, usually due to high winds and mountains of snow. Ray shrugged dejectedly, causing the brass-bladed musket-ax combination rifle to fall from its holster. The blade clanked against the cobblestones, the extreme cold causing the ax-blade to chip and crack along most of it. The zealot sighed and headed for the blacksmith. Luckily, Ray had just passed the smith and thanked the Machine for his luck. He pushed the door wide open, pulling the scarf down from around his nose.
“Good morning, metalworker! I-” Ray stopped himself as he noticed the airship captain ahead of him, and he bowed apologetically. “My apologies.”
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A cry and a yelp could be heard as a Black Marketer fleed through the city center, chased by an angry looking Wilco. The guards were ignorant of this, though a few looked at them with a smug grin. Wilco saw the BM head to the forge and, drawing his bow, fires an arrow into the guys leg, pinning him, before saying a word and his staff glowed a light blue, before a small beam of ice shot out and hit the arrow, freezing the guy in place. He stops and kneels beside the guy, finding a broken keg piece. He sighs and turns to the forge, which he was in full view of. As he looks, guards come and break the ice and remove the arrow, before dragging the BM away.
He looks down and puts the staff and bow away, clearing his vision and starting to walk to the forge. He heard whispering, yet ignored it. Let them think...
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Pyro saw the two characters headed for the forgery in the corner of his eye. He wondered what this could mean, but for the same account it was a mere coincidence. He didn't miss Wilco freezing the marketer in place, though. He had a strange feeling about this all. Maybe, just maybe, something large was about to happen.
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Wilco was sweating as he entered the forge, speaking to someone about getting the keg piece fixed. His staff was underneath the bow on his back, and he was making some grunts as he was speaking.
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Kikara had to duck to get inside the Forge, her ears scraping the ceiling. Like most large cats in the area, she wasn’t exactly in mind for a city so much more south than her family’s home country. It made shops interesting trips.
As it was, her height made it no less awkward to talk with people. She utterly towered over the company she kept in the forge, her nearly seven and a half foot frame bulked with enough muscle to lift a steel beam. She swept her tail around her legs to avoid burning the fur off and stuffed her hands in her coat pockets. No need to look as intimidating as some found her.
Kikara smiled at the Fennec fox. “Why yes, I am. I had a messenger put an order in for replacement plates,” she said. She watched the raccoon enter and nodded. “Not an issue, Ringtail.” She sent him a joking smile, turning back as the wolf trotted in.
The sharp scent of the oil made her nose twitch, the breeze through the door whisking it around. “Past storm cost me some steel on the port side. Pinned my lady against a cliff and tore some holes before I could get to shelter. Any chance those are ready? Should be under Kikara Tuns.”
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Ray tucked his paws behind his back, bowing as he spoke.
“I hate to interrupt and intrude, but I must ask. Are you, by chance, an airship captain?”
The raccoon offered up a smile, one of humility yet with a subdued excitement. He knew the answer, but did not want to come off as strange. The ink-stained satchel on his hip rustled and clinked with the sound of parchment and traveling inkwells. In the forge’s firelight, Ray’s blind eye seemed to shine. Unlike the milky-white of a normally blind eye, the sightless orb in Ray’s head was a shockingly icy-blue, like a ball of smoothed ice.
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Pyro didn't bother to talk to Ray, but replied, "Kikara Tuns... Eehm, let's see... If I'm not mistaken... Gimme a minute." He walked towards some other forgers, working with steel. The forgery of the city wasn't too large, and it had a good overview. He asked around a bit before getting to know where her delivery was made.
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Kikara smiled proudly and flicked her tail across the wood floor. “I am. I own that pretty lady out there, actually. The Taneris.” She watched the forgers work and trot about, making note that if this worked out and she and Creya liked the craftmanship, they might have to look into getting steel work done.
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Pyro returned with the word soon after. He said, "Well, Mrs. Tuns, they have the majority of the order done. However, they'll need ten to fifteen more minutes for the last pieces before it's all completed."
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Ray’s smile widened. “If I may, I would be most grateful if I may join your crew. The Machine blessed Father Gorrim with a vision, one of my destiny. I will, if you allow, work free of charge upon your mighty vessel in hopes of discovering the remnants of the Machine.” The raccoon bowed his head. “I do apologize, I can be quite the chatterbox.”
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Someone esle called Pyro for Wilco. He walked over and asked what the matter was. The man said, "Look, Pyro, it's this broken object. He wants it fixed, and you don't have anything on hand right now, so I suggest you take it." Pyro took the keg piece and inspected the damage. The state of the item could mean the difference between fixing and scrapping.
(OOC: Wilco, I leave it to you to describe the damage.)
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The keg piece was only lightly damaged, easily fixable if the keg was here. Wilco looked at Pyro with a slight look of questioning. "Is it ok?" He asks, his voice deep and his speech sounding like someone had taught a chimp to speak. He was holding his tail, looking upset. "Bad man break keg, me only do my job..."
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Pyro nodded. "Ah, no problem. Just five minutes." He walked away to fix the keg.
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(My apologies, guys. Work's gotten a bit more hectic. I'm trying to be regular in my posts.)
Kikara smiled and assessed the Raccoon quickly. She did need hands on board, so it wasn’t a bad idea. Creya had post screened people before as well. Her only big worry was experience. She’d run every kind of storm in her short years, but experience wouldn’t hold up a class of pups.
She tilted her head. “I am in the market for some new hands, but ship work ain’t easy. You sure you could handle the rough skies?” she said, not unkindly. Her ears flicked to listen to others in the room. Maybe if she got all three, she would actually have someone onboard that could cook and make repairs. She wasn’t bad at the latter, but cooking… Well, the last pot she used was probably swimming the oceans still.
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Pyro overheard her. Somehow he felt like the question was also meant for him. He didn't understand why, but allegedly he had a sixth sense for this sort of stuff. He paused his repair for only a fraction of a second while realising this.
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Wilco heard her as well and registered it with a flick of the ears and a swish of his tail, but he was otherwise waiting on the fixed keg piece.
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Ray offered a wide smile as a part of his answer. “I’m sure I can handle it. Can’t be any harder than navigating the frozen wastes on foot, yes?” He glanced down at the blade of his weapon before he spoke again. “I’ll have to have this repaired before I can leave, unless you have a forge aboard your vessel?”
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Kikara tilted her head, leaning back on the desk. Her tail kicked up dust with the soft sweeping back and forth. "True,” she said. When he mentioned the forge, though, she winced. “I’ve got one, but unless you have a smith, you’d be better off here. Last smith fell off the boat.” Little white lie. Didn't sound like she'd murdered the woman that way, something that happened a lot because of how fishy it sounded.
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Pyro overheard this statement and from the corner of his eye, he peered at Kikara. Good thing he just finished fixing the keg. He inspected it. It would hold, but again, he wasn't sure for how long. He gave it back to Wilco before picking up his wand and saying, "I'm willing to go with you. I'm kinda tired of this town anyway."
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Wilco nods at Pyro, before turning to Kikara, his eyes turning a slight icy blue. "Treacherous lands ahead, Ice mage is willing to go with group." He says as he picks up the keg. "But me only Ice Mage I know here... I get bored of chasing same people every time..." His sentences were broken and slighty understandable at times, but from what he's saying, or tying to say, he wants to go with you.
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Kikara looked around at the three, ears perked and tail stilled from kicking up dust. She smiled. “Well, if you feel so up for it, I’m willing to teach. Creya shouldn’t mind much either. Been telling me to good decent hands for years.”
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Pyro raised an eyebrow. "So... you accept it, in easier words. I'm only not sure what you mean by 'teaching us'."
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Kikara raised an eyebrow. “You ever been on a ship?”
The door opened with a bang, crashing against the wall as two massive bovine women stepped into the forgery. Freezing wind whipped up a whirlwind, and even as the new visitors shoved the doors closed, snow alighted on the front desk for a moment.
The larger of the women, a russet longhorn with a thickly padded coat and pants matching her companion’s uniform, spoke first. “Another storm’s coming in, Kikara. Creya wanted to meet for your next mission before it if you could outrun the ice,” she said. Her voice was hoarse but high, tired from yelling over the wind. The calm before the storm would be another hour. Weather people must have heard something from Alisium to the south.
The tiger sighed. She’d hoped for more time before heading over to speak with Creya, though she loved the woman. It wasn’t for lack of fondness, but Creya could be… Well, she overestimated Kikara at times. Whatever mission she was setting up would take a lot of set up, for sure. Maybe with the crew it’d be easier this time.
Kikara nodded. “Will do. Thanks, Meuli,” she said, smiling.
The second woman, a grey dwarf cow with an extra-large set of boots on, tossed Kikara a package. “Better wear this. Those ears’ll freeze solid, fluffy,” She said with a smirk. Oh, the nickname. Leave it to Lohiel to mention it to the crew…
Kikara huffed. “Ha. Thanks, shorty.”
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Ray shrugged and hitched his rifle up on his shoulder. “Then I will have this repaired upon the vessel. I don’t suppose you, Captain, will allow me to collect a boon from Father Gorrim?” He jostled the bag on his shoulder for emphasis. “I failed to pack fresh quills and ink. Partchment too, come to think of it. And extra cartridges. Maybe a holy symbol.” Ray continued talking to himself as he brought an ink stained paw to his chin in thought, adding a few more splotches on his face. The raccoon also began to pace, tracing the air with his free paw, writing a list only Ray could see.
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Wilco just watched everyone, staying silent and swaying slowly, now a sweaty bundle of fur. "Too hot... Will be outside if needed." With that, he exits the forge, waiting nearby, slowly cooling down, the sweat forming small droplets on his fur, before he shakes it off.
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Pyro mentioned, "Hey, Mrs. Tuns! I have worked as a blacksmith on board of the Gearwheel-" his eyes shifted right, and he took a confused look while interrupting himself, "-No idea why that name-" As normal, "-Though I settled here eventually. So, when it comes to airships, I do have experience."
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Kikara nodded to Ray. “Of course. Grab everything you need,” she said. After a pause, she glanced around. “All of you, really. You’ll want personal items and plenty to keep you busy.”
She watched Wilco leave, brow furrowed. Heat sensitivity wouldn’t be an issue up top, but the kitchen always got hot. It was too late to alter the windows in it to be more comfortable, but perhaps she could find a few spring fans in a nearby shop. Kikara didn’t mind extra expense for comfort to her crew.
When Pyro mentioned the Gearwheel, though, her ears perked. “Well, I’ll be damned. That the silver Ice skimmer that Tasuan rumbles around in? Nice speed on it.”
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Ray snapped himself from his trancelike murmuring and nodded. “I’ll be off then.”
He scurried off quickly, retracing his path to the church. The raccoon entered the building, excitement plastered across his face.
“Father Gorrim,” Ray cried. “I’ve found my vessel, and will be leaving quite soon. I’ve just returned for my effects.” Although he figured he wouldn’t hear Gorrim over his clomping boots, Ray didn’t notice the note on the back of Gorrim’s armchair.
After collecting his gear, Ray made his way back to Gorrim’s lounge, picking up the note carefully, reading slowly.
‘Ray,
By the time you return from your travels, I will have begun
my Great Expedition. I do not suspect that I will survive.
If you find me, bury me where I lay.
I’m sure you are the one. He who will find the Machine.
~Gorrim’
Ray wiped away the tear in his eye and left the church. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. The raccoon made his way towards the launch, hoping to bump into Kikara before the ship left.
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Wilco heard Kikara's call for them to grab their gear and he stands, checking his pouch. "Not much needed. Only staff, clothes and food." He says to himself, standing still and waiting for Kikara.
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Pyro replied, "Yeah, it's a fast one, but it wasn't exactly in any good shape. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up some items from home." He grabbed his wand and left for home after letting everyone know he'd be away. There, he collected what he'd need. Clothing, some photos, some small miscellaneous items and of course his wand. When he returned at the forgery, he carried a suitcase in his one hand, the wand in his other and he also picked up his hat- he usually didn't wear it at work because it might catch fire.
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Kikara watched them leave and turned to her two companions. Lohiel watched the road. Wind whipped up, challenging the fires in the lightpoles. "Best be going soon. Don't want to be made into a rug to keep someone else warm."
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When Pyro returned, he took a look at the other forgers. With some quick questioning, he came to Kikara with a pile of parts on a wheelbarrow. "Looks like your parts are all finished and ready for installation, Mrs. Tuns. Shall I help you with putting these on?"
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Wilco was standing near the entrance, waiting for the signal to go. "We going?" He calls out to Kikara, now snow covered, somehow.
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Ray found himself seated on a barrel at the entrance of the ship launch, bundled nicely into the cold-gear Gorrim had left. He stared blankly at the icy-white powder as it whipped and played about.
‘Such cruel innocence,’ Ray thought. ‘Enraptures children, but it takes so much.’
Absently, his paw strayed to the blue orb that used to be his eye. The raccoon couldn’t quite remember exactly how it happened, all that he knew was that Gorrim had found him when Ray was but a baby. He held his head in his paws, patiently awaiting Kikara’s appearance.
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The two bovine allies of Kikara had left quickly enough, not looking forward to the coming storm. Ice already slicked roads and sidewalks. Their noses were better off not joining that group. It left Kikara with time to think. Time to figure out her new crew.
It wasn’t a crew that worried her, all said. Most needed training, sure, but they all did. Her baby was custom, afterall. Sorta. Technically she’d been a custom make over, right on a burned out shell. A lot was second hand, and it made flying her a test. No, it was the fact that she hadn’t even properly unloaded. The fabric run she’d done had weighed down the bow and she’d banked on getting a payment out of it. Unless Creya had already unpacked the hold – not unusual with her crew in bad weather – they’d have to sell on the go.
Wilco’s voice pulled Kikara out of her thoughts, ears flicking toward him. The snow covering his fur was… interesting. Useful. It would make for easy camouflage if he could stand it. “Soon. I don’t want to lose track of my new crew in the snow.” She smiled and chuckled as she spoke. “You’re pretty close to getting lost as a snowman, eh?”
Kikara looked Pyro’s parts over quickly. Right number, likely the right parts. She pulled a simple purse out. Kikara always preferred to keep the gold in small bags, precounted. It made transactions easier, so long as she remembered to mark them. “Many thanks. Here you go. I counted out what I was quoted, and the tip,” she said, passing it to Pyro. “I’m not sure how you prefer to split it, so I’ll leave that up to you and your crew.”
Another gust of wind cracked ice off the roof and knocked it to the cobblestone. Time to go. “We’ll drop that at the ship on the way out to Creya’s. Hopefully Ray will be meeting us there.”
-
Pyro nodded and handed the money to the forge master. They would distribute it evenly among the workers who made the parts. He wasn't the boss, after all. He laid his case and wand on top of the parts, to make transporting them easier. Then, he waited for Kikara to move out.
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In the meantime, a red panda was busy in his nonchalant-looking workplace. The workplace was somewhat away from the centre of town. It was recogniseable by a large, aluminium image of the red panda's logo on the door. Through the window one could look inside to see the red panda busy in his red worker suit as he was working on an old music box.
He didn't get a lot of customers. He didn't have to, really, though the slow-and-steady decline caused by the weather could mean trouble for him in the long run. The workplace was a little on the small side, but cozy and warm in contrast to the cold outside. There was an other door that led to another room where he kept everything needed for repairs, as well as most things that either were repaired by him or had yet to be repaired. It was silent in his place. All the red panda heard was himself as he busy on a partly demontaged music box. This one appeared to have a fairly simple mechanism, so it shouldn't be very hard to manage. He grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox that was standing on an other, smaller workbench next to the one the music box was on as he continued his job.
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Wilco chuckles at Kikara's response, but stays silent now, thinking. He holds the staff in his hands, resting on it and thinking stuff over.
-
Double checking his equipment, Ray stood to shake the snow from his shoulders. He had slipped into a trance while praying, but the cold finally reached his bones. The raccoon blew into his gloved paws to warm them, stomping his heavy boots to return the feeling to his feet.
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Kikara led the party out, keeping close for fear of losing them in the gusts of snow and ice. Wilco proved a special challenge with that white fur of his. People rushed inside, looking for warmth. It was a little enviable. Kikara’s ship was warm, of course, but she was a long way off.
The buildings along the road towered over them, many rough and dilapidated. The dark brick facades were a sad sight for such homes, once gingerbread covered and brightly coloured. At least some southern cities still shown.
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Wilco, seeing Kikara move with the others, starts to move, following behind the others silently. He gazes at the other buildings, his mind wandering between memories and keeping track of his position. He smiles to himself and hums quietly, a song his father had taught him. the light tap of his staff every now and then gave away his position to Kikara, letting her know through said tap that he was following them, though at a short distance. To him, guard work had kicked in, and he was watching their backs, far enough away so that if he got into a tussle, the others wouldn't get hurt, yet close enough to quickly react to an ambush on them.
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Pyro walked near Kikara in his thick winter clothing. He put his ears under his hat in the hope to prevent them from freezing. He never liked the cold. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough charge in the wand to use it as a heat source. His vision went to the buildings he had seen so often. It made him wonder if this really was his chance to escape this ice age.
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The red panda finally managed to find the issue with the music box. He frowned and paused for a while, looking at the mechanism in question. It appeared one of the parts was rusted shut. That was weird. Something like that wasn't supposed to happen unless it hadn't been used for a really long time. Then why did the owner want it fixed? Either way, the rusted parts were rusted so badly the red panda wouldn't able to replace it without slightly damaging it further, with the added chance that something might break off whilst doing so. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take like that. Still frowning he carefully picked up the parts he took apart earlier and put them in the box one by one. He closed the lid, picked up the box and opened the door to the back room.
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Ray again stomped his feet to regain feeling. Any more waiting, the raccoon figured, and he'd have to step inside. A dangerous gambit, given that he could miss his only chance to travel. He sighed, confining himself to either frostbite or at least cold-burns. Ray didn't blame Kikara. The city was large, and the streets covered in snow. And with the additional crewmembers, they might've stopped at other locations. Blowing into his paws, Ray started to simply pace on the landing.
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The trek across to the docks was short enough to avoid frostbite, but long enough to numb the toes of Kikara's new crew. She walked ahead of them, her size shielding them from the wind. No need for misery.
Wind kicked ice crystals off drifts and into every nook and cranny of their clothing. Shirts felt wet, pants sopping, and fur stiff as it melted in their body heat. The sight of the ship - tucked between an ice freighter and a smaller skipper - was enough to make her tail flick. They'd be able grab something hot to drink before they trek to Creya’s.
---
The snow tapped against the window, alighting on the sill. Fire warmed the sitting room, crackling about while a female grey wolf worked on paperwork at the writing desk. The room was tidy around her, cleaned to prep for the coming trip.
The wolf, Creya, had been planning for months how this excursion would go. She'd called every favor in she could, paid for only the best. Considering the stakes if anything went wrong… Creya shuddered. There was a reason she was high security. That was not power to brush off.
The door squeaked as a mouse, barely a foot tall, pushed a cart in with tarts and tea on it. Creya smiled without looking away from her paperwork.
“Thank you, Miru. I was just wondering what you were cooking up,” she said.
Miru trotted up the steps to place plates on her boss’s desk. “I didn't think you'd eaten enough, lately. You're so worried. Maybe you should take a break,” she said softly.
Creya shook her head and took a sip of her elderberry tea. “Too much is riding on this, dear. We've planned this for months. To get this trip set up again… Deilori, I couldn't do it, darling.” She sighed. “This could be our last major trip. We could pass the business on, take our little group to safety. It's worth the trouble,” she said.
Deilori just sighed. Creya would walk off a cliff and through a frozen lake to keep this moving. “Of course. Shall I let our guard know to be packed for Kikara's arrival?”
Creya nodded and slid a stack of invoices into her filing cabinet. “Yes. I want to move this along tonight.”
Deilori picked up her skirts and curtsied. “As you wish.”
-
Pyro crammed his feet in his boots. He hated the cold. The wet clothing made it only worse. Shivering, he looked at Kikara's ship. It was a beauty. He could see that even in the snow. The thought of a warm cabin gave him the strength to continue, though he was clearly struggling.
-
“Uno por uno, todos caemos~”
The feline had been sitting in his well lit room, idly looking out the window that separated him from the ceaseless winter wind outside. Victor had been in this place for a short period of time, and he was already restless; it was too calm. Thankfully, some energizing events were about to take place.
In his left paw was a newly formed and well maintained black powder charge. He gave it a glance and smirked, knowing the potential of such a small item. The feline had alluded to having heavier ordinance in his possession to the wolf who employed him, but he never really detailed the power of it. Mostly because he didn’t want to be scolded for carrying explosives around with him. In the back of his mind, the glare of that woman unnerved him more than being attacked.
Aside from the explosive, his machete that currently resided next to the door, and a small backpack by the bed, he was fully packed and ready to roll. It was just a waiting game now. With his vest and beret on, he was anticipating a summoning of some sort from his employer.
On the wall of his relatively bare room hung a single flag with crossed scimitars and a fire in the middle, the last reminder of his home and why he took the job. It was an easy task; protect the people, protect the goods, don’t die, get paid. Lazily, he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a moment to gaze at it, almost unaware of the knock that echoed from the wooden doorway. Maybe now it was showtime?
Standing, the feline crept towards the door. It was probably the mouse again. Now, he didn’t really have a problem with her, and he tried to be friendly, but her size was just... humorous. It would probably help build relations if he didn’t crouch down like he was speaking to a child each time he interacted with her. With several deft movements, he unlocked his door and allowed it to swing open, exposing the being who attracted his attention.
“How can I be of assistance?” He said quickly, greeting the visitor and tucking the small black cartridge he held into its pouch of origin with a conspicuous manner.
-
As Kikara and her crew approached, there was no sign of Ray. It looked as though he had simply flown away, there were no boot prints leading away from his spot. As Kikara’s tail flicked a nearby snowdrift, however, the snowdrift started to rise with a muffled groan. It shook violently, casting thick, powdery snow away, revealing the warmly dressed raccoon. He explained how he had slipped into meditation, but quickly fell asleep after lighting the warming aparatus attached to his gear. “It works like,” he blathered, “like a small boiler, pushing heated water through small pipes that lined the suit. Each pipe connected to a tiny bladder located on my knees, elbows, and other joints. But enough about that, which is your vessel?”
-
Wilco seemed unbothered by the snow and the cold, standing still and somewhat away from the group, his eyes gazing around, looking through the darkness, trying to spot any danger that might come to him or his... 'crewmates'. Seeing nothing, he sighs, letting out a puff of frosted mist, which hardens and drops into his palms, before he crushes it, and follows the crew slowly, being cautious.
-
The red panda decided it was time to close up shop. He had been busy for quite a while now, and honestly he didn't expect anyone to come by with this weather. He opened the door, and a cold breeze welcomed him outside. He shuddered as he stepped outside, leaving his warm working place behind. It seemed like it became colder everyday. The red panda locked the door behind him using his key and then walked off in the direction of his house. Thank goodness he was wearing a thick jacket and pants, else he'd be freezing. His tail still was, since it was sticking out, which was a bother. He really disliked his fur being shorter than most red pandas now, the cold could get him very easily like this. He crossed the street, thinking of his warm house waiting for him.
-
The Taneris sat protected by the freighter at her side, swooped keel resting comfortably in her berth. Her sails had been pulled in against the mast and sides of the hull to guard them against the wind, but it made her no less lovely.
Kikara undid the door. “In, in. I don’t need ice statues for a crew,” she said. The door swung open with a heavy creak, revealing the wood of the interior and copper piping. And the warmth. It rolled out around them like a soft hand, welcoming them in.
---
Deilori curtsied politely to her much bigger compatriot. She’d gotten very used to such size differences, so it bothered her little to look up at people who might think her lunch or a toy.
“My lady asks you join her in the sitting room with your bags ready, sir. Dinner will be provided there,” she said, pointedly ignoring the item in his pocket. Her nose knew the stench of incendiaries, being around so many sky-faring merchants. Just a part of the job that the hired hands would carry them.
So long as she didn’t smell them while being cooked, they could do as they pleased.
-
Pyro did not hesitate a moment and jumped inside to wam up. He now took his hat off and sighed before turning around. He said, "I do not believe we were introduced properly. How about we get that sorted?"
-
Wilco waited outside until everyone was in, staying in the cold and looking around, until he was satisfied, taking a place beside the door, not entering.
-
Ray ducked into the ship and quickly doused the tiny furnace on his back. He undid his hood and dropped it, looking around the ship in awe.
-
The red panda continued his journey home, going on in the freeze. Thank goodness it wasn't far anymore. During his walk, he passed right by a factory of some sort. He didn't know what was going on in there, but he could almost feel the warmth of the factory, gently blowing in his direction. Whatever was going on in there, it had to be HOT there.He didn't want to bother with warming up right now though. He could do that plenty at home. With this in mind, the red panda threaded onwards, his boots leaving deep tracks in the snow.
-
The copper and wood insides of the ship gleamed in the low light of the lamps. It was a hodgepodge or materials and finishes, much like the outside, but felt warm in both the most literal and figurative ways. A coat closet slip closed beside Ray. They’d be going out soon anyway.
The hall turned just a few feet in, with a door on one side and a longer hall leading aft. The door looked like a proper steel one for once, and lead to the entire back part of the ship. A second door, less nocable as a pocket door, was right at the end before the bend.
Kikara shook her fur out. Snow floated to the mismatched wood fur. “Don’t believe we did. I’m Kikara. We can’t stay long, but get some feeling back. We’re headed up the road,” she said, glancing out at Wilco. Strange duck. Hopefully he wouldn’t melt inside later on.
---
Deilori trotted out into the hall of the brownstone, heading straight up a tiny stairwell on the wall. She much fancied not being squished under Victor’s boots when he came out.
Oh, how she’d miss this lovely little house. It was so large and warm and her lady had been so accommodating. Now, granted, her ability to attract help of… disreputable intent may have been to blame. It made for cheap workers.
No matter. Only the future to think of.
---
‘Damn this snow! Can’t see a bloody thing.’ Of course she couldn’t, not in the dark of the southern alleys. Few lights, even street lights, had survived the feuds between the Winter Warnings and the Martielians. She’d been hoping the moon would show for once.
The beautiful maned wolf moved fast, darting around corners, ducking fallen poles, and leaping fences as easy as breathing. This was her rhythm. Night only slowed her enough to catch the shape of her tail, the cloud of her breath. No need to stay for anything else.
She had a ship captain to catch.
Her boot clad paws ghosted on thicker ice whenever it presented itself. She’d just need to be out of the ally and onto the road for a bit.
She went so fast she didn’t see the red panda ahead of her in time to turn.
-
Pyro sighed. He had enough of the cold already. At least he could get his wand charged just a bit. He replied, "Aw, man... Sigh. I guess it can't be helped. Either way, name's Pyro. Nice ship you got here, Kikara."
-
At last, it was time to deploy. The feline nodded and gave a half thumbs up towards the smaller mouse, confirming that he understood.
“I’ll be there.” Was all he said before she left, the feline rotating his head slightly to watch her vanish down the hall.
With that, the Tabaxi slipped back and eased the door to a silent close, stepping back into the room and making any final adjustments to his gear. Biting his lip, he cautiously plucked the flag from the wall, showing respect as he folded it and slipped it into the small backpack that contained the rest of his goods. After picking up the pack, he slung his tempered machete and glanced out the window one final time.
The snow wouldn’t end, apparently. So much for rolled sleeves. Deliberately, He unrolled and cuffed the sleeves of his apparel before withdrawing a black and grey checkered cloth from his cargo pocket. For now, he wrapped the cloth around his neck like a scarf. When it came time to depart, he’d most likely have to drop the beret and wrap his head with it completely. While the beret was nice, it wasn’t practical for the cold.
Feeling as though he was ready, Victor proceed to walk out the room, striding down the hall and tapping on his machete lightly as he made way to the sitting room. He hoped dinner would be good tonight. Granted, it was usually good every night, but maybe it would be even better since they were about to leave. Something told him rations would be most of his diet while traveling.
And alcohol. He just had to keep his ordinance and booze separated this time. He wasn’t going to repeat a past incident.
Shuddering at the thought, he walked into the sitting room and took a moment to gently lower his pack. Natural intuition urged him not to be throwing his gear around all over the place like he was earlier in his private quarters. After a moment of scanning the area and adjusting the sheath for his machete, he spotted his boss and gave an enthusiastic smile. As per his nature, he gave a proud, albeit slightly sarcastic greeting.
“Well hello there, you look like a ray of sunsh-“ Just before finishing his sentence, one of the small, black powder charges fell out of an unsecured pouch on his vest. Hitting the ground with a quiet, harmless thud, Victor looked at the grey wolf, the ordinance, and back again. Frozen in place for a few moments, he smiled with a bit of guilt and hesitantly said;
“That could have been worse.” After nudging it behind his pack and out of sight with his boot, he slipped his hands in his pockets, deliberately moving past his clumsy moment as he asked.
“So what’s the plan?”
-
Creya’s mousey assistant trotted along as she talked, skirts in hand. “My lady will give you more information, but she has been tasked with moving a prisoner to Arsirian Prison. She is… special, and you will need your… accessories,” she said, large ears and black nose twitching. “Of course, she’s also been commissioned with finding a new spot for a city, so you will not be bored, dear.”
---
Kikara preened, puffing up a bit. She could enjoy a nice compliment. “Well, thank you. She’s my baby, just without my fur,” she said. Thunder drowned her attempt for another comment and her ears flattened. Snowy thunderstorm tonight? That was not something she wanted to fly in if she could help it…
The ship creaked to agree, pulling her attention to her cargo. Maybe she could sell it at the next port. She knew it well enough to find her usual merchants.
“We need to move. Will any of you need more layers? It’s close, but not fun.”
---
Whiskers slid over the ice with a yowl. Her claws dug into the cracks and tail lashed over the snow in the street. “S***!” No, no, not into the-
A crack and splash sent her into the far ditch of dirty cleaning water with a howl of shock. Why couldn’t it have frozen yet?! It was bloody cold enough, wasn’t it?
-
Pyro smiled at Kikara's remark. When she told him it would be harsh, not needing more encouragement, he pulled some clothing from his suitcase and doubled on his layers. He also took out a thick winter cap and put his hat over it. "I just don't like being seen without my hat," he explained.