NationStates Jolt Archive

It was a land another time and another universe would have called Europe. In fact, many universes would have called it that. This one, though, did not.

In this time, in this place, the land was called Avelona.

Of course, Avelona did not share the precise boundaries that ‘Europe’ did. It wrapped around the Inland Seas to include Eastern Persia, Arabia, and the Northern Deserts of Africa.

One can see, of course, in those other universes, that a woman named Morgan le Fay existed, or perhaps a man named Lancelot had, or even both of them. No one had heard of such creatures in this universe.

Then there was also a man named Arthur. In some of those universes he died at a place called Baden Hill, or in others, facing the great Empire to his south. But in no universe did history happen exactly like this one…

Except perhaps those that were created after the fact. But they are another story, one which will not be told here.

The story of this universe goes something like this.

Arthur’s victory at Baden Hill made him King of the Britons, and his later victory over Rome, Emperor of that vast nation. His diplomacy and charity made him leader of the Barbarian tribes along the edges of the Roman Empire, which, in this universe, did not fall, for Arthur saved it.

Guinevere, Queen and Empress, never strayed into the arms of a man that was never borne in this universe, and instead, loved her husband until her old age and his own took them from each other.

But here too, the stories and reality collide, and once more, the universe wins. They had children, four of them, in fact. Edward was the first borne, and renamed the Empire to Avelona, and the continent it encompassed, now lands stretching from frozen Scandinavia to scorching Africa, from the Atlantic to the Fertile Crescent. It was these lands, the most valuable and powerful in the world, that Edward passed to his only daughter and her husband the Duke of Wintermere, George the First, first king of the Finborne Dynasty.

Today, in a land which would be called Europe, the seventieth generation is being born under that Family. It is not a world of peace, nor is it a world of war.

But it is a world of massive Empires, peace brought about by the fullness of time, of generations without great strife. It is a world which five hundred years without a war between the seven major powers has left in a state that might be considered primitive.

But ancient civilization has its own unique abilities, its own practices.

For fifteen hundred years the descendants of Arthur had ruled Avelona, and for five hundred years, uneasy peace had reigned on Earth, with nothing more significant than raids and brushfires, mostly caused by barbarian states.

Avelona is ruled by the sixty-seventh descendent in direct unbroken line, father to son, of George the First. He bears the name of eight of his forefathers, including the first, and he is Lord Protector of the Avelonans, Warlord of the Empire, King of Britannia, Lord Supreme of Calintrop, Pinaurota, and Roncal, Defender of the Faith, and by the Grace of the Maker, Emperor of Avelona, His Imperial Majesty George IX Finborne.

Under his rule, a time of stability has entered the world unknown even before now. All this is about to change, and not for the better. But no emperor of man, nor king nor prince nor ruler of any kind is at all aware that a Golden Age has reached its turning point, a fork in the path of history.

And there is no safe way to turn.

Sean Finborne, His Imperial Highness the Prince of the Five Deserts, Second Son of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor His Father George IX, closed his eyes and turned his head away from the tent flaps as a sudden swirl of dust blew in from the desert outside.

He swore. Not well, of course, but enough to provoke chuckles from some of the older men, and scowls from the rest. Everyone in the fabric room was older than the Prince, who had just recently achieved his twenty-first year. The local Earl and his three Barons where present, along with the commander of Sean’s bodyguard, his priest and head mage, and a single man dressed in dark, unadorned robes.

This was his council of war, for war was upon the Five Deserts. Or, at least, one of them. A bandit army, perhaps even a barbarian one, was raiding villages along the Nill River in the southern Alexandrus Desert.

But before he continue, a young man burst in through the front opening, sweating, with dirt on his face, unmistakable signs of having ridden hard across the arid land. He dropped to one knee, panting, as he attempted to make his report. “Your Highness,” he gasped out. Sean came to his feet, sensing the prospect of imminent action. “The raiders approach the village, five miles to the southwest.”

“How many of them?” Sean demanded.

The young man, just barely no longer a boy, looked up, fear etched onto his face. “Thousands.”

Sean turned to one of the servants. “Get him some water.” The servant dashed off, but Sean had already turned to the leaders of his military forces. “Earl, Barons, General, begin organizing our troops. I want to leave as soon as possible.” He gaze swivelled to the man in black. “Seal Master, can your Knights and Adepts delay the bandits?”

“We will do what we can, Your Highness.”

The man left the tent at a run as Sean’s gaze moved to the last member of his council. “Father, perhaps you and yours should pray for the souls here today. And prepare what magics may be of use to us.”

* * * * * *

Shadow cast across the city of Camelor as the sun broke on a new day. Darkness swept across the city as a giant sun dial, pronouncing the coming of the new light.

Some called the edifice a ziggurat, some called it a church. Many called it a temple, and others still called it a palace. It rose ominously above the surrounding city, a huge pyramid structure carved in whole from the mountain which had once occupied the plain. Long before Camelor was a town, long before Camelor was a city, long before Camelor was the capital of an Empire.

Long before Avelona looked to the Emerald City as a place of guidance, the edifice had been shorn by hand from the obsidian of the dead volcano.

This then, was the Temple of the Order of the Seven Seals.

Darkness in a sea of green, an island of power and strength among a fragile ocean of glimmering glass. Atop this ziggurat, there was a room of glass sides, a third of a mile above the roofs of the city, a prism of gleaming power which sent a shimmering rainbow across the ground.

In this room, seven sat. Five men and two women, each garbed in a colour of the rainbow which their home brought forth. Thick robes of fabric did not hide their wiry, trained musculature, health did not disguise their age. Friendly smiles did not give lie to the wisdom in their eyes, nor did the grace of their carriage spread false truth of their pain. All wore a sword on baldrics of blackened leather, silver hilts gleaming in the early morning.

This then, was the Council of the Masters of the Seven Seals.

Clothed in purple was man whose hair shown whiter than fresh fallen snow, whose eyes glimmered with a slight humour and with wisdom brought by many years. His name was Father Timothy Andrews, and he was the Master of the First Seal, the Master of the End Times.

To his right was a woman in red, her raven hair beginning to show streaks of age in gleaming silver. Her face showed no age, her youth on the Council having only brought her to this summit for less than six months. She was Sister Elizabeth Fareway, and she was the Master of the Second Seal, the War Master.

To the left hand of Father Timothy sat a man whose face was deeply lined from the cost of his service, an ancient scar trailing down his cheek from the corner of his left eye. His garments of green proclaimed him to be Father Jonathan Richman, the Master of the Third Seal, the Famine Master.

Continuing around the circle towards the door were the Masters of the Fourth and Fifth Seals, the Death Master and the Soul Master, in blue and indigo of their formal robes, the brown haired Brother Thomas Sinclaire and the silver blonde haired Sister Margaret Clarke.

Lastly were the two in orange and yellow, the Masters of the Sixth and Seven Seals, Apocalypse and Trumpets, respectively, Brothers Darren Holdern and Matthew Marks.

Two more stood in this room, at the centre of their circle, one in black, one in white. The glittering blades also lay sheathed on their belts, these also in silver and gleaming with gold, all the lights in the spectrum reflecting from their bejewelled pommels. The woman in the close fitting black was clearly the elder, it was proclaiming in her eyes, in her stance, in the slight world weariness of her posture, and in her relaxation around those who remained seated. The young man, barely past his teenage years, was clearly more unsettled by his presence in the room of the Shattered Sun, his weight being subtly transferred from foot to foot.

These then were members of the Order, the woman, a Seal Master, her black formal wear revealing her rank. Her blank face revealed nothing she did not desire it to, for it was a mask she had perfected many years before.

Her young companion was much less stable, his white proclaiming him an Adept of the Order, two ranks below Master, a goal he would likely never reach. Few did. But on the other hand, this dawn ceremony did proclaim he had achieved something that was no small feat of skill, bravery, mastery of self, and faith.

Then the Masters of the Council of Seven stood, and the black and white forms knelt in their midst. “Veni, Sancte Spiritus, reple tuorum corda fidelium, et tui amoris in eis ignem accende. Emitte Spiritum tuum et creabuntur; Et renovabis faciem terrae. Deus, qui corda fidelium Sancti Spiritus illustratione docuisti. Da nobis in eodem Spiritu recta sapere, et de eius semper consolatione gaudere. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.”

Then the Seven drew their blades, and the light of the morning sun gleamed from them, each blazing with the light of its Master, as they advanced as one, and a gleaming shaft of purity filled that sacred room, the whiteness of the Saviour’s robes passing over the Adept, before he was draped by his Master in a cloak of darkness, the Black on White symbol on the Seal Knight’s formal robes.

Only a few more words were said. “Communi consilio, Domine, dirige nos.”

Then the new Seal Knight knelt to repeat a formal oath, to which all subscribed in the Order.

“I was once a man, and only a man, and knelt a man. Then came my faith. I shall be without fear in the face of my enemies, that God may help me. I shall speak the truth always, even though it lead to my death. I shall safeguard the helpless, and do no wrong. That is my oath. I rise a Knight.”

* * * * * *

A small cloud of dust above the sand, kicked up from the hooves of the horses. A broad line of horse, gleaming with metal and savage intent thundered over the dunes of the Alexandrus Desert. The Nill River was a thousand yards to their left as they wheeled about, drawing up parallel to the quick flowing water. Before them as they faced away from it was an army, or more, a mob.

A hundred members of the Order of the Seven Seals await their command. Not heavy horse, they expected to encounter little, if any, of the same, and expected fewer still firearms, the two things that would blunt their purpose. Failure was their only fear, failure of the mission for Empire, and for God.

They bore no shields, no discernable identifying marks, something that should have made the oncoming group pause. But the bandits’ confidence in their numbers protected them in an invincible wall of their own supposed superiority.

Delay them. Those were the orders. The Seal Master nodded to his two most senior knights, nearly as experienced as himself. One a man, one a woman, they drew their swords, the sun gleaming off them in the daylight. These two were combat mages as well as knights, and their purpose was something completely different that drawing blood on those fine blades.

Dismounting, holding the swords by their blades, just above the hilt, pointed down, they advanced, bearing crosses. Twenty steps before the line, they knelt, and began to pray, or chant, or…

The blades touched the sand, and lines of flame burst from them, racing outwards as a quickly forming wall, trapping the terrified, primitive bandits. Burning hot enough to melt the sand into glass, the flames would not last long with nothing to feed them, but they would suffice for a time. Directed waves of their hands brought more walls into existence, splitting the oncoming group into smaller pieces. The swords remained embedded in the sand, the two still praying hard over the gleaming crosses.

The ground thundered yet again as the other knights broke into a charge, a hundred horse plunging towards the wall of flame. “Domine, dirige nos!” came their battle cry, and with a shrill scream of equine challenge, the force drove through the fire.

The sounds of battle rose as the Seal Knights began to engage a portion of the bandit force, trapped from its fellows by fires that seemed from Hell itself.

* * * * * *

The rainbow of light crept across the green of the Emerald City, splaying across the ground and the river until the sun’s light met something neither natural nor green. Instead, an imposing, beautiful edifice of natural stone met the morning light. A towering castle, turrets and walls and gleaming windows, grey and brown stone held together by centuries of wear.

Atop the tallest tower flew the flag of Empire, and beneath it sat, carved in stone, the massive, rampant form of the Pendragon, waiting to once more be called upon in need.

This was the citadel, the Imperial Palace, the home of the family which had ruled these lands for fifteen hundred years.

It was, indeed, Camelor Castle, home of Arthur, son of Uther, and George The Great, and George the Ninth, current Emperor of Avelona.

Inside its walls, as the morning broke, a full battalion of the Emperor’s Own marched a drill, scarlet and black flashing from their uniforms, muskets gleaming in the yellow morning light as the chill of a cool night faded.

The call of the drill echoed in the room of a man of fifty-one years of age. With a smile at his still sleeping wife, he shook the robe from his damp form and dressed for the day, breeches and waistcoat and all the trappings of power. As usual, then, he dropped to his knees, offering up his silent prayer before the crucifix suspended on his wall.

Deliberately ignoring the circlet of gold, or the gleaming scabbard of Excelsior mounted nearby, as he did nearly every morning, George Finborne went to find his breakfast.

* * * * * *

Prince Sean’s black horse wheeled about at the touch of his heels, drawing up beside his General, upon whom he cast the irritated look of an impatient youth. Trotting in the middle of the column of troops, with the other, perhaps one hundred, horse-mounted soldiers, around them, he glanced forward over the Emperor’s Own First Desert Guards, clad in the tan and maroon of their uniforms, their muskets all gleaming and ready for battle. Behind the mounted group about Sean of assorted armed horsemen, came the local militia, called up by the Earl, perhaps another two thousand men, and behind them, the Emperor’s Own Desert Dragoons, by far the best horsemen in the Empire. (Each element of the Emperor’s Own Dragoons made the same claim, though.)

Behind these last came the true force that would even the odds. The Holy Order of the Knights of the Crucifix came mounted on steeds behind the Dragoons, and with them came unit of the Imperial Army, four regiments under full arms, including their heavies.

The better part of eight thousand troops were marching to meet the enemy, and the flames of battle were already in sight, but, fortunately, not the flames of a burning town. Sean breathed a sigh of relief. They were in time, and only a quarter mile of flat road lay between them and their destination. “General, the troops are yours to command,” he stated softly, yet formally.

Orders flew from the general’s mouth, setting his mounted aides into motion. The Desert Guards moved into a full run, despite the growing heat of the day and the light reflecting from the sands. The Dragoons began to circle outwards, moving into a position to trap and charge with a wall of lead with bandit force. The Imperial Army Regiments began to spread out to either side of the road, flowing into a solid battle line three ranks deep and a thousand men across, muskets gleaming as they waited behind the front line of the Desert Guards for the order to fire. The last thousand of the Army spread out with the dragoons, their fantastical mounts providing them with great speed, or striking power, or some manner of many different abilities. Not all the beasts were mounted, of course. Some were merely given orders, as they had no place to be ridden upon.

Hippogriffs and manticores were among the most common of the creatures, though gryphons and small wyrms were almost as numerous. Finally, the Seal Knights drew back from their slaughter, their rate of exchange horribly in their favour as the fire wall finally died.

“FIRE!”

The thunderclap rolled in an flash of powder down the fifteen hundred yards of the line, blazing out as they fired by platoons into the enemy which had had no time to regroup or even to realize the flames which had delayed them were gone.

Which was when the second rank fire, then the third, then the fourth. The continual rolling of thunder sounded as God’s Wrath over the open desert, burning waves of lead travelling at enough velocity to rip through steel tearing through two and even three men. Cries of horror filled the air as the first rank began to fire again.

Finally the enemy charged the line. Whistles shrilled, and then all hell broke loose. The dragoons and the beasts of the army charged into the enemy ranks as the musketeers continued to pour on fire until the last moments before contact.

The enemy force broke as the dragoons slammed into them, nearly sixteen hundred mounted warriors finishing the job started by four thousand others. The militia began to close around the flanks to finish the job.

The slaughter had only just begun as the rear rank of army troops drew their swords for close combat.

* * * * * *

The Prince Imperial left his chambers in the family wing of the castle and smiled, offering a gracious bow to his eldest sister, four years his junior, as he met her in the hallway. “Good morning, Jen. Going down to breakfast?”

As she nodded, she extended her arm to take his, looking up at her taller sibling. “Of course, Andrew. It is that time, as Father did wish to speak with both of us over the meal.”

Grinning at their formality, which seemed to grow heavier and heavier every time they met, Andrew escorted his sister down the stairs. They rarely saw each other any more, now that they were old enough to take care of their own lands, the Princedom of Calintrop, for Andrew, and the Princedom of Roncal for Jennifer. The other two siblings who were of age remained in their respective assigned stations, though, as the Emperor Their Father had not summoned them. Sean was dealing with bandits and Carl, dealing with pirates who were raiding the coastline south of his capital of Venin.

As they headed down the stairs, they paused by one of the great windows to gaze out on the city where they had spent their youth, a city Andrew saw barely six weeks of the year now. The gleaming green glass in the morning sun still had the power to take his breath away, and his sister’s apparently, as she drew up beside him, gazing out.

Footsteps and a rustle of fabric announced the presence of the two youngest Finborne children, twin Princesses Anabelle and Caroline, stumbling to an undignified halt as their two elders blocked their path. “Good morning!” they chorused, smiling brightly from up under such different hairstyles. Except their boundless energy, they were polar opposites in almost every respect.

“If you lot are going to run in the hallways of the castle, it is usually better not to run over people,” Jennifer said sharply, fondness in her eyes.

“We heard you were here,” Caroline beamed at her older sister. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”

Laughter echoing from the stones, Jennifer sighed. “You just saw me at Easter. That was what, less than four months ago?”

“That’s forever,” Anabelle contributed.

That was when the flash came, blinding everyone, shooting through the window and the cracks in the stone, the light seeming all around them, sweeping through them, penetrating all that was and was not, as crack in existence itself opened, shattering that which remained…

Andrew whirled away from the window and covered the blonde Caroline, knowing Jennifer would do the same thing for the dark haired Anabelle, their combat and magic training at a younger age still in force. The first borne boy and girl to any male Finborne had always held this trait, the ability hidden away to manipulate the universe around them with means beyond mortal kin.

For this reason, in the second that passed of surpassing light, they found themselves protectively covering their younger siblings on the cold, harsh stone floor, ignoring the protests from beneath them.

* * * * * *

While a full accounting of losses remained to be done, Sean sat stock still in the saddle of his black charger as he surveyed the bloodied sand. Dragoons were attempting to run the few hundred bandits who had escaped his army to the ground, and he knew most of the dead did not wear Imperial colours. Few of them, in fact, did, though the number was far too many none the less.

Wearily, he slid down from the saddle and approached the local villagers, who were doing what they could for the soldiers and militia who were injured. Sisters of Saint Luke were moving through the bodies, though, but as usual, there were far too few of the gifted women with the power to heal.

Kneeling, Sean bent to rub his hands, bloodied by combat, in the sand to clean them, when a soft pop echoed and a note appeared before him, sealed with his personal seal. Only one other had access to the copy of the ring he wore on his right hand, the head of his personal household, which meant that the message had to be of great importance, especially given its magical arrival. To transport it this far would have meant a great expenditure of energy, an urgent crisis.

Prince Sean –

I urge you to repair to Alexandrus immediately, where I have sent a flight of dragons to await you. You are needed in Constantinople at once for a matter of grave importance. By the time you arrive, I believe you will understand.

~Your faithful servant

It was the small hours of the morning when Sean had arrived in his Princedom’s capital, and he had, as expected, immediately noticed the problem. His demands for information as to what happened to the land on the other side of the straights, and where it had gone, where met with shrugs and no information.

No one knew a thing, the bright flash had taken away the rest of the Empire, leaving, as far as could be told, only the Five Deserts.

Four days had passed since Sean had arrived back in his citadel, and leaning against the balcony rail of his suite, he stared out over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. There was no sign of Northern Avelona, for only water existed as far as where the Emerald City should have been.

Despite the apparent disappearance of his entire family, the thing that brought it home the most to the Prince was what he looked at now. Where there should have been the lights of the northern half of the great city this night, there was nothing by darkness, streaming off into the deepest shade of day’s rest.

Silent tears dripped down the cheeks of the only Imperial child to bear their mother’s hair, glimmering with the reflections of the few lights which reached to this tower. A soft shushing of cloth, the scrape of soft leather on stone, broke into his reverie, causing him to spin around, facing the opened French windows.

“How did you get in here? You should not be here with me, alone, Amelia.” his voice was soft with concern and love, a smile breaking through his tears as he saw who stood there. “Your reputation, a good young lady of standing…”

The voice of a young woman answered him. “I don’t think my reputation matters any more, does it, Sean? There are more important things to worry about.” She moved towards him, the light from inside his quarters bringing out midnight blue highlights in her raven hair. A hooded cloak draped over a riding habit answered the question of how she had arrived.

Sean moved towards her and took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. She did not settle for just a hug, much to his surprise, and arched her neck to the tall prince, pressing her lips up insistently to his. Tightening his embrace, he deepened the kiss willingly, pressing her to him, her soft, young body separated from his own by only a few layers of cloth. He felt, more than heard, her moan into his mouth, just as he felt her cloak sliding over his fingers, drifting to the floor. He knew what she was offering as she moved sinuously against him.

He broke the kiss with a groan, breathing heavily, looking down at her half closed eyes and flushed cheeks. “We can’t, Amelia. I can’t. Not until we’re married.”

She moved to pull away from him, startled by his response, and with hurt shining in her eyes, but the Soldier Prince refused to let her go. “Sean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… I should have known you didn’t want… I just wanted to make you feel better…”

Breathing out heavily, Sean started to chuckle. “Did not want, Amelia?” He moved his hand slowly up her back. “I want very much.” He kissed her forehead. “But it is unfair to you, to both of us, to break our vows for this.”

“This?!” she shrieked, trying once more to pull away, and Sean let her go slightly. “This?! What does a silly vow to God matter any more? He’s taken your entire family, my father, most of the Empire? He betrayed us! Surely he can stand this. He is all powerful, after all.” Her voice was bitter with remembered tears, and current pain, and Sean drew her close again.

“This is our Test, Amy,” he said with gentle concern in his voice. “Dare we fail our scared vows before God, to fail the test he has set to us?” He curled his fingers around her neck, stroking her hairline. “I had intended to ask you this when I returned for my birthday, but I think now would be a better time. Stay here for a moment.”

He untangled his arms from her, and draped her cloak back on her shoulders against the cool night before he ducked inside, returning a moment later with something grasped in his hand, though hidden from her view. He smiled gently at her, light from inside bring to life one side of his face and hiding the other in shadow. “Lady Amelia Sarah Cunningham,” he began formally, before he dropped to one knee, “love of my life, will you do me the great honour of marrying me?” He displayed the small velvet box, a glittering diamond resting within it.

Hiding the smile from her face, she said softly, “Stand up.” When he complied, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and considering what had happened to the rest of the Empire, there might not have been. When they finally broke apart, she whispered breathlessly, “Your Imperial Highness Prince Sean Caspian Finborne, of course I’ll marry you.” Then she kissed him again. “When?”

“As soon as it is possible for representatives from the other Great Empires to arrive here. The Five Deserts must be able to present a strong front, so I’ll offer dragon transportation to them. The end of the month.” He still held her tightly in his arms, then blinked in surprise as he stepped away. Holding up the still full box, he smiled. “We forgot something.”

Wordlessly, she extended her hand, and he took it gently, sliding the ring onto her finger, where it gleamed brightly. As the young woman smiled up at him, Sean forgot all about the lights which should have been across the straights which no longer existed, and everything else indeed, for the joy there blinded him to all that.

They kissed again. “Can I stay here tonight?” she whispered as they pulled apart once more.

He nodded. “Even in my capital, the streets are not so safe for a young woman alone this late.” Sean failed to comprehend his fiancée’s true meaning.

“No, Sean, here, with you.”

That prompted a surprised blink, for the young man had thought the topic already settled. “Our vows…”

She silenced him with a kiss. “We won’t break them.” She smiled at him. “But you’ll have to throw me out to make me leave.”

The Prince sighed softly, a smile tugging at his features suggesting he was not nearly as annoyed as he tried to project. “Very well, my love.” He picked her up and started towards the interior entrance.

“SEAN!”

He grinned at her, and set her back down. “Only joking, Amy.” He kissed her gently. “You can have the bed.”

She shook her head. “I want you to hold me, like you’ll do every night once we’re married.”

Looking heavenward, Sean said a silent prayer for strength, knowing that his love was even more stubborn than he, and this was an argument he would not win. But then, that was the way of love, for even in losing, one won.

The tale of Prince Sean and Princess Amelia did not end there, of course, for there was a happily ever after. But an alliance to protect the weakened Princedom was formed with the Indians, and neither Sean nor his descendents took the title of Emperor, nor even King, perhaps still hoping, as memory became legend, and legend, myth, that Avelona would return, each holding in their hearts that they would one day seen those who were gone again.

Tested, but not broken, the Five Deserts remained loyal. Job was not the only one to pass.

* * * * * *

The Prince Imperial, Andrew Finborne, listened with growing horror as the magnitude of the disaster became clear. A report from North Constantinople said that the other side of the straights had vanished, one from the Great Rock said that the straights there as well had become open sea. Along the Eastern Border, guard stations reported that the Earth was gone, swallowed up by ocean in the Divine Light which had come upon them all.

Messages by the hundreds came from all over the Empire, seeking clarification, and Andrew watched his father’s face under the strain. He had remained strong, knowing the Empire was held together, his faith and his love of the lands God had made his keeping him fighting against the growing tide of the all encompassing disaster.

Andrew had drawn strength from the Rock that was his Father the Emperor, until even the man who was a father was overwhelmed, when it became clear that no part of the Five Deserts remained. The news that Sean was most likely gone forever had broken his father down, leaving the Heir to the Throne to cope with what was left. He was placing markers on the Great Map of the Empire now, in the map room of Camelor Castle, displaying where all the messages had come from, city leaders, military outposts, his brother, Prince Carl.

Carl had wanted to know if he should come up to the Emerald City to be with the rest of the family, and Andrew had told him to remain in Venin. There would possibly be panic soon, and the Imperial Family was what gave the Empire strength, its heart and faith. So Carl had to remain.

Andrew, buoyed by duty to Empire, to family, to his father, remained in place where his father should have been, continued accepting the reports as they continued to flow in. When Jennifer asked what she could do, he gave her orders to Linberg, her capital, to calm the fears to the populace. He himself would return to Orlis as soon as he could, as soon as Father and Mother had recovered from losing Sean. Until then, Andrew would hold off his own grief.

He marked another place on the map board, trying to imagine the sheer cliffs the Eastern picket station had reported, the land sliced off as if by razor straight down into the sea. It was too much, so impossible, and Andrew bowed his head into his hands, weeping silently as he prayed to God he was no longer sure was merciful.

“Good to see you have not forgotten to seek the Lord in times of need, Andrew.” His father’s rough baritone startled the Prince. “For we surely need him now.” A wave of his hand indicated the stack of reports and messages. “Are these what we know?”

A sigh of relief, a feeling of contentment, despite the horror, flooded the Prince, who realized how unprepared he was to take up the mantle of the Pendragon Crown, to wield the power of Excelsior in that moment his father returned to take the reigns once more. “Yes, Father.”

“Tell me, then.” The Emperor seemed to have aged ten years in the last day. It took a while, but the Prince did as he was told, reciting everything they knew, the missing lands of the Muscovites, the vanishing of the Five Deserts, and the great ocean in which all of Avelona that remained seemed to be encased.

When he finished, the man Andrew knew as ‘My Father the Emperor’ finally returned and gave his first orders in the Imperial Voice since what had happened occurred. “Andrew, send a message to Carl and to Jennifer, and to those in your own Princedom which are best suited for this task. I want them to take dragons on the winds, and explore beyond the bounds of Avelona, to seek out what lives in this world, if there be anything else besides us here. If we are to proceed, we will need more information than we currently possess. You yourself will take a flight of dragons northwards. I want every direction explored that we can, without taking too many dragons from their weyrs. I have a feeling that our military must remain as intact as we can, for Sean had much of our best strength with him in the Deserts to fight the bandits which prayed there.”

“As you wish, Father. I shall see the Communicator, and send the messages at once.” The Prince Imperial stood, grateful to take his father’s orders once more.

“Hurry, son, and be careful.”

* * * * * *

Mounted astride the back of a gleaming, blood red dragon, Prince Andrew swept over the waves, feeling the steady beat of wings in the shifting of the huge muscles under his buttocks. Glancing backwards over his shoulder, out of the rushing wind for a moment, he spotted the three other dragons keeping pace with him, a smaller green-blue full dragon, and two black weyrvns, half-dragons as they were sometimes know.

Most flights were made up such as this, with the two smaller weyrvns able to guard the flanks of the slower, more powerful creatures. Andrew was the first Finborne in five generations to have this experience, the knowledge that he was controlling the beast between his thighs with mere thoughts and commands. That was his magical gift, that of speaking to the animals, especially the smarter, magical ones, such as dragons, which could give him a force beyond all reckoning were it needed. He desperately hoped it would not be. His was one of eight flights of dragons setting out on the Emperor’s orders, and they were headed due north.

Jennifer had been ordered to send two flights, Northeast and due East, Carl, two more, continuing the circle southwards, through Southeast and due South. From Calintrop, his own Princedom, flew the flights Southwest and Westward, and the circle was completed with another flight from Britannia going to the Northwest.

They would seek out what they could find.

<<OOC: Okay, this story is open for participation from the public, should they wish to respond. I would prefer that initial contact with Avelona occur through the dragon flights sent out for that purpose, rather than an invasion or some other silliness, though certain other methods are acceptable, if you should explain it well. No boats crashing into the unexpected shoreline, though, at least not right away, please.

Now, as to what I expect from the people who respond. There must be enough detail that someone who had never seen your ‘whatever’ that is encountered would find when studying it. Be it a ship or a plane or even your nation, I want to know what the dragon riders see. Also, make sure you specify your direction relative to Avelona. I would not want more than one group in the same place.>>

[ooc: I'll leave you to decide the direction, depending on which characters you would like to use, if that's okay with you? As Tartarus is north, maybe something in that direction?]

Endless Summer ( http://www.oceanyachtsinc.com/Fleet/Super_Sport/73_Super_Sport/index.html) rolled over the waves, breaking easily through the growing swells. It had been a last minute plan for the two on board to give up the idea of a peaceful island honeymoon to go for an ocean cruise. But they wanted to be alone, away from every other living being, and where better than in the middle of an ocean, far away from anywhere.

The clear blue sky overhead, held the sun in its grasp. Reflecting on the water, like a million diamonds, bringing heat and joy to the young couple on the yacht. Mark Johnson was at the wheel of the ship, in the enclosed bridge, while lying below his field of vision, wearing nothing but the bottoms of her bikini, lay his wife, catching some rays. Her arm was across her eyes, blocking out a little of the brightness of the midmorning sun.

Setting the yacht on auto, Mark leant out of the bridge, calling to the slightly dozing woman. “Kathy, do you want a drink?” His voice broke the silence that was all around them. “I’m grabbing something cool for myself.”

Rolling over onto her stomach, resting on her elbow, Kathy blinked her eyes as she tried to focus on her new husband. “I’d love a cola, if there is one.” She gave him a smile, and watched as he ducked out of view. Turning back onto her back, she stared up into the pale blue sky and frowned, as her eyes fixed on a dark shape on the horizon.

Kathy sat up, her hand shielding her eyes as she continued to watch the sky. Scrabbling beside her, she reached for her bikini bra, placing it over her breasts as she stared, watching as the shape became sharper and more defined, until she could not mistake what it was.

“Mark!”

Her voice rang out, as she tried to move, but she was fixed to the deck, unable to lift even one foot from the floor. Lowering her hand from her eyes, she worked frantically to attach her clothing properly, as the shape before her now could be nothing else than something from mythology.

“Mark! Mark? Where are you?”

Just then her husband revealed himself, poking his head around the bridge door. “Kathy, what is it?” He followed her hand as she pointed skyward, not that he needed her direction, as there before them was a view full of dragon.

The smashing of two glasses as they hit the deck was the only sound on the boat, other than the gentle droning of the engines.

Northwest

The flight which had set out northwest from Eira, the eastern isle of Britannia, was, like the others, composed of two dragons, a green and a shadowy grey, and two wyervns, a glimmering white and a bloody maroon.

Their leader was Matthew MacClavern, Lord Gawain, heir to one of the four oldest Earldoms in Avelona, that of County Gawain, the northern half of the isle of Eira. His companions were soldiers with the gift as well, that which allowed them to speak with animals.

As the bobbing speck of white came into view at the edge of the horizon, they shifted course wordlessly, closing on it for inspection. As they drew closer, it became clear that it was some form of boat, trawling through the waters of the sea for purposes unknown. Though the rushing wind made conversation impossible, another alternative was available to those who sat astride the great winged beasts.

What manner of vessel is it, milord? I have never seen decks more whitened, not even His Majesty’s frigates.

I do not know, Avery. But I mean to find out. It is exactly these things we were sent to discover.

I see people aboard it, Matthew. They would appear to have been engaged in, ah, certain activities, given their state of undress.

Tell me what else you see, my friend, Shadowreaver.

There is none aboard but the two, though a great heat comes from inside it. There are no sails, but the decks are not wood, though what they are, I cannot say. If you wish to question those aboard it, will be difficult to do so while in hover.

As the dragon pointed it out to him, MacClavern realized there was certainly no where to land aboard the vessel, which was certainly smaller than it had first appeared, but far too large to only have a crew of two, especially if one of them was a woman, as the dragon seemed to indicate.

They swept over the vessel quickly, before wheeling around, spiralling downwards towards it, all the while, the flight leader was thinking hard. Then it hit him. If you stay very still, I can remount you while in a hover, Shadowreaver.

You mean for me to drop you onto the boat and then force me to fly about while you converse with the people aboard.

Well… yes. It is the only way I can see.

Of course it is. I was merely hoping for a rest.

We have not been out here that long, you lazy beast. Matthew scolded the eighty foot long grey dragon. Get me closer, and I will drop onto the flat part near the bow. Steady now.

The dragon backwinged, as if landing, then swept downward again, an oddly curious sight if one had never seen it before. Lord Gawain slid from the creature’s neck with a dull thud of his heavy leather boots against the unknown deck material.

Long black hair tied back at the nape of his neck, a small bit under six feet tall, an easy, ranging motion imbuing his body, dark riding leathers making the young man in his late twenties making him appear, unknowingly, like the stereotypical ‘biker’. A thin rapier dangled from his left hip, and a strange looking pistol was worn low on his right thigh.

Suddenly, it occurred to him that they might not speak a language he was familiar with, but he decided he would take that in stride, if it arose as a problem. He looked at the strange people, apparently frozen in shock. Practiced eyes roved across them, and taking in the odd colouring, he concluded he had not actually interrupted anything… indecent, with the arrival of his flight.

He spoke slowly and calmly, in case the people could not comprehend his accent, assuming they understood his words at all. At least they looked human…

“Um…” How exactly did one greet strangers under circumstances such as these… whatever these were. “I bid you greetings, fellow travellers. I am Lord Matthew MacClavern, and I and my companions were wondering if you could perhaps tells us where we are, and perhaps, what land you call home?”

On the deck of the yacht, Kathy had not moved since she had spotted the dark mass that had appeared in the sky. Now that the dragon loomed over them, she could not have moved even if she had wanted to. Her mind was already swarming with images of being cooked alive and being eaten, showing just how movies and television programmes determined how she thought about things. But as she had never seen a dragon in the flesh before, these were the only facts she could base her thoughts upon.

Mark, on the other hand, had managed to find his feet, and when the stranger had dropped off the back of the beast and landed on his boat, he had managed to pick up the pole that was used for fishing stuff out of the water. Holding it a bit like a lance, but certainly not looking anything like a knight, he edged towards the man, his eyes wide, full of fear and anger.

“Please, don’t kill us!” Kathy’s voice rang out, not having listened at all to the man’s greeting. Biker men and dragons had her imagining some strange tale with her as the desperate heroine.

Moving forward, until he stood near his wife, but still had the space to swing his weapon if he should needed, Mark looked at the man, finally feeling his courage growing. “Greetings, stranger…” He began, caught up in the man’s strange behaviour. “What do you want with us?” He looked over the shoulder of their antagonist and looked up into the sky, seeing clearly now the four dragons that flew above them.

As if finding his manners or realising that if they had wanted to kill them, they would be dead by now, Mark ventured on. “We are from the Empire of Tartarus.” He pointed behind him, indicating the flag flying on the boat, to indicate their country of origin. “And you are…in the middle of the ocean. Tartarus being that way,” he pointed into the general direction of his motherland.

"Tea, Admiral?"
Commodore Wiseman asked politely, as the he poured himself a cup of fine Praetonian tea, something that members of the admiralty had discovered recently, and considered it something of a delicacy. Slipping a teaspoon of sugar in, Wiseman rattled the spoon around inside the mug. Admiral Trey seemed to be in some form of trance as he pretty much ignored the Air Commodore who, shrugging, gulped down a mouthful of the drink and gasped relaxedly. However, seconds later, the Admiral murmured slowly
"The sea is a beautiful thing, is not Commodore?"

Wiseman grunted. He wasn't really one to admire anything natural in his way of work, that of being a person trained, and trained adeptly, to kill. Trey, on the other hand, who had spent his entire life from the age of eleven onboard a ship, starting with the first superdreadnaught ever commissioned, had a love of the sea, and some said he was strange; that he had sea salt in his brain, although it was also said that Trey was a very kindly man. He often toured the underdecks to the meet his crew and introduce himself. It was not really an understatement to say that he was one of the most popular Admirals in the navy- and it was not an understatement to say he was commanding the most powerful ship in the navy. Trey turned around, the trance with the lapping waves lost, and sat back down in the officers lounge leather sofas, pouring himself a cup of tea and lying back.

From anyone who wasn't familiar with modern superweaponry, the HMS Irrevocable was part of a class of thirty "supercarriers" designated the Illustrious class, and being the pride of the Hogsweatian Royal Navy. From a distance away it looked almost majestic, before one noted the rust slightly above the waterline, and the aeroplanes strapped down the kilometre long deck, the defense guns swivelling from side to side, and the anti nuclear missile system at the rear; however, anyone from an age long gone would have no clue whatsoever about this huge ship, standing over twenty five metres off the sealine, it's prow boasting the inscription HMS Irrevocable. Above the tiny, in comparison, superstructure of the beast, a flag, attached to a tall pole, waved in the afternoon breeze almost patriotically, the flag of the Hogsweat. It's red stripes lay proudly on the white background, in the corner something resembling the union jack waving in tandem with the other three, blank corners. The grey behemoth trudged through the oceans at a tense fourteen knots, water spraying from the rear. If you had a good view, it was a tremendous sight.

Flight Deck of H.M.S Horatius, Marine AeroCarrier, cruising altitude over the Southern Ocean.

"Shackleton, you son of a motherless dog, if you don't clip your gods-be-damned safety line on I will punt your ass off the ship myself!"
Flight Lieutenant Alexi Bader raised a black eyebrow at the bellowing Staff Sergeant, inching it higher as the man closed a ham-sized hand into a fist and headed towards the luckless Shackleton.
"So very glad I'm not really a Marine."
The other officer, a Ch'taht Lieutenant S.G, tail swishing lazily, nodded, grinning a fanged grin.
"Indeed Alexi, for if you were a Marine you might have to do some real work now and then."
Alexi looked wounded.
"Hansa, I am the very soul of work! How can you doubt me?"
The Ch'taht laughed the huffing laugh of his species.
"Perhaps because I've seen your fitness reports, "Excellent pilot, only writes reports at gunpoint"!"
Alexi spread his hands and grinned.
"Alright, I admit I have bureauphobia. Sue me."
"Meh. I hate lawyers or I would. Anyway!"
The Ch'taht handed the dark-haired Sq.L a dataslate, which Alexi wrapped round his arm, the slate sealing in place on the sleeve of his dark green flight suit. Tapping a few buttons on it, he grunted.
"Bah. Never anything of interest. I should've switched to the Navy."
The Ch'taht shrugged.
"Maybe so."

Some little while later, $distance out from the Horatius.

Alexi tapped the joystick of his Mako and the little fighter rolled smoothly to it's right, his flight rolling behind him.
"Alright boys and girls, it's an other lovely day to be messing around in our spikey little death traps, which I may remind you we get rid of in an other..."
A pause while the somewhat erratic Bader checked the timer, then.
"...twenty nine days. Anyway..."
Alexi was interupted in his morning ramble, to the quiet disapointment of his flight who felt that his occassional loss of touch with reality made up for flying Makos, somewhat.
He was interupted by the bored sounding voice of the Albatross AEWAC's FAC informing them of radar contacts, the location appearing on each pilot's HUD.
Bader gave a "Tally ho!" and his spiny, black-painted, fighter shot forward, rocketing over the waves at extremely low level, blasting towards and then past the radar contacts, spinning on it's own axis then zooming up and above the objects, the Mako hovering above as Bader peered interestedly down.
"Crazy."
He clicked onto the relay channel back to the Horatius.
"Command, could you find out if any of our lot are out and about a'dragonback, because if not, I have possible Kalessini here.."
The Mako dropped down to hover in front of the dragons, joined by the rest of it's flight, not making any aggressive moves, just hanging in the air, watching and waiting.

ZMI Bulk Ore Freighter “Bucklin Bess”

The three week old mino had less than a second to realise its surroundings were no longer what they were as the Bess’s vast gapeing primary water intake slammed it through nearly 80 metres of piping, amazingly intact past the brutish forms of spinning impeller blades and bulk detritus filter grates before it ran up against the first of the molly moll particulate filter meshs. The tiny particulates that made it through that would be slammed through the nightmare complexity of the Bess’s direct nuclear fired thermal exchange system along with another 42,300 gallons of “mostly” water per minute and be ejected in the vast steaming mass of boiling hot exhaust water from one of the Bess’s forty warning sign covered vectored high energy water jet exhausts. The Bess was a freighter and looked it. A vast and relatively slow mountain of metal who would have dwarfed any super tanker her mind numbingly ugly and industrial bright yellow super structure was dotted with drone access mounts and embossed with the number “4” in a somewhat rust stained white. Her deck was mounted with 8 truly mammoth cranes each capable of handling the vast 4000 ton blocks of processed ferrous material from the main holds or the delicate shock gel filled zero g synth product containing cargo pods.

All the material the Bess carried was sourced or produced in the depths of space and was safe landed by huge sea landing heavy lifters who’s due to Byzantine but in the end very good reasons safe re-entry path was in the deep ocean. This not only necessitated the construction of vast servicing platforms but also the Bess and her sisters to take the cargo safely the final few miles to the eternally gaping mechanical maw of Megacitiy One’s tens of thousands of manufactories. For all the obvious power behind the vast steam cloud rising from the Bess’s water jets she was slowly almost doddering as she made her way, her huge prow cutting through the sea at just over 15 knots.

Main Deck, Cargo section three.
Captain Angelo Wilkins watched with a vague sort of glee as 4th technician James “the wrench” Patacki slid neatly of his heavily modified frictionless street board and firmly the somewhat foamy wall of puffy off white re-entry foam scrapings the drones had been diligently removing from the re-entry cargo pods, their slow sqeegee like sounds still just audible over the noise of the neo classical sub sect five “thumper” jazz pouring out over the ships deck. The still raven black haired 5”8” 42 year old of Irish Italian background Angelo had “retired” from the Int-Sec counter drugs task force on Gastins world, half a lifetime spent in the bulky seat of a one man water sprite class patrol cutter occasionally trading air breathing sea skimmers with (1)Zanza coral smugglers to his family home back in the “Big Meg”. He and his 38 strong crew were enjoying not only the good weather but the good fortune of having communally winning 230,000 rungs on the Slaty Bear annual prize draw. The celebration however was not the only time the Bess’s crew could be seen lounging on her deck, the ships simple robust systems virtually ran themselves and Angelo had allowed the crew to practice street boarding on the huge main cargo deck. Not only had it earned him a moral medal from his company sub sector chief but it had also earned him a rather nasty official letter from safety officer Ian Sorenson who was presently sunning himself in a recliner on top of a re-entry module containing 430 Verdion instant flash toasters. This had of course not stopped the crew using the ships vast deck for high speed street boarding but had made the captain spend three hours one dark December morning going over the ships manifest to find something useless and foamy. It wasn’t that there was much re-entry foam left on the pods it was simply that there were so many and hence Angelos present view of James Patackis backside being dragged out of a pile of foam which was sticking to his suntan lotion hide like some sort of perverse cacti.

He was just about to shout some encouragement as the rest of the crew were already doing when the dull and somewhat dim ships non sentient sub sphere agent who the crew had named “Edna” overrode the blaring music and with an announcers tone before “her” speech that would not be out of place in a super market announcing a 20% reduction of the price on eggs. She calmly announced in her plodding tones “possible sentient self guiding airborne biological combat form detected 2,300 metres and closing”. This was in fact because Edna’s agent core was built around the mini mart local control agent “Maxi Mart 4”. This fact would never come to light in her long service but may explain much about Edna’s deeply mysterious ability to load cargo pods according to a long forgotten customer service surveys item placement demographic. A software oddity so buried in her reams of code that the best dock yard programmers the company had sent down had gone back in tears and so far down the companies priority list that the AI commune had not even bothered to answer Angelo’s somewhat increasingly distressed requests.


Angelo’s glass of orange juice bounced of his deck chairs plastic front left plastic leg and smashed on the bright green synth alloy container he and the buffet table had been set up on as what in his mind immediately said “dragon” appeared out of the clouds bracketed in his view by the convoluted support struts of number four crane. Angelos second act was to immediately press the large red panic button on the holo console being emitted rather weekly from a dinner plate sized relay com drone meekly sitting on the deck. The result was the rather staggeringly loud ships fog horn doing a passable impression of an air raid alarm and the ships one and legally only armed drone shooting 20 feet straight up on a lance of actinic blue flame out of its launch cradle mounted in a bracket some 30 feet behind the observation bridge. This was “emergency panic launch” or in the drones limited hardwired response before its AI’s energy matrix state spun up a “Code 239”. Code 239 required said drone to extricate itself to main combat height at maximum speed. This promptly due to a lack of forethought on the technicians that had installed would cause it to slam straight into the ships main com mast. The drone struggling to unearth itself from the slowly falling tower of synth alloy, microwave relays, and laser uplinks would manage to do some 2.8 million rungs of damage before its combat AI fully woke up and on now meekly silent hover drives it would settle its Volkswagen beetle sized silvered hide directly beside the captain, its main weapons pods still sealed but the disturbing lance shape of its neural stripper lazily following the dragons form with the casual accuracy of an automaton with just the hint of unnatural grace that the AI now gave to its silvered and barcode covered form.


(1)Zanza coral found on Gastins Worlds protected native wildlife preserve in the shallow inland sea and coastal surrounds. Refined it can be used in the production of Zat! A highly addictive and highly illegal due to its long term degradation of neural transmitter sites hallucinogen. Zat!’s uses include the blocking of company control collars and the use in street gang indoctrination. Zat is classified as a Grade B illegal substance.

OOC: I'll have my ship sailing northwest of Avelona, since Gehenna is in the northeast area.

Aboard the H.M.S. Arcadia (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v492/Euroslavia/Gaule96.jpg)

As the ship sailed on through the calm sea, the sailors and attendee's aboard the H.M.S. Arcadia carried on with their daily duties, in their patrol of the seas. Day after day, the ship would sail on familiar waters, in their route, which stayed the same every time. The Captain was suprisingly ok with this. In his younger days, he would venture out into the seas, in risk of being demoted by the Euroslavian Royal Navy, but luckily, this ended up winning him a Medal of Bravery, for fighting against an enemy ship in a minor engagement many decades after the Euroslavian Civil War. This was well over fourty years ago, in which the Communist government was ejected out of the nation, and a semi-dictatorship was installed into power.

The Captain sat in his chair, watching the waves pass by as the ship continued to move in its regular route. He was quite satisfied with sitting back and watching the sea, because it was never the same as any other day. The seas always change, and this continued to intrigue him. His days of disobeying orders was over, ever since that battle, which almost cost him his life and his ship, which meant more to him than his own body and soul.

His two assistants had ventured out to the deck to make sure that everything was going as it normally would. They were well on their way from the Captains seat, in the hallway that lead to it.

"The Captain seems to be as lazy as ever now-a-days," said Jennifer, with a worried face. "He needs some sort of excitement back in his life. Personally, if I were in his position, I would have hated to settle for a job like this, with absolutely nothing to look forward to. I mean, we see the same old waters again and again. There's nothing exciting about that." she sighed in frustration.

"If you were in his position, some years ago, almost getting killed for practically disobeying direct orders from our leader, what would you do?" as Jason snapped back. "I mean no disrespect towards you, but I probably would be doing the same thing."

Jennifer looked at Jason, then looked away towards the door that they were rapidly walking towards. As they opened the door, her jaw almost fell to the floor. Sailors were running around as if their heads were chopped off, and their bodies were looking for them. It was pure mayhem. She looked at Jason in distress, and looked up only to see a dragon in the air. She would have shrieked, if she hadn't lost her voice suddenly. The Captain rushed out of the door, leaving his ship at a standstill, which was could end up being one of the biggest mistakes of his life, even worse than in previous times. They sat there in awe, at what had appeared in front of them...

<<OOC: Bloody hell, I messed up the directions in the original posts. These will be the correct directions. I’ll go back and fix the others later.>>

Northwest (Gehenna)

MacClavern found the man to be singularly unhelpful in his description of where they were, as it was fairly obvious they were in the middle of the ocean, about a hundred and ten miles northwest of Eira, which should have put them in fairly cold waters, the young Lord knew, but considering the dress of the two he had encountered, and the temperature and weather he himself was experiencing, this was obviously inaccurate to the new location of Avelona.

As the man identified the flag, MacClavern’s eyes narrowed slightly at the demon adorning it, especially as he was given the name of the country from which the vessel hailed. Tartarus? Hell itself? Why would any name their country such? They certainly appeared to be human enough, and not demons from the Pit.

He was certainly intrigued by the relatively scanty information given to him, but remained wary, as the two obvious were of him. He glanced up into the sky. Shadowreaver, can you see any land relatively close nearby?

None, unfortunately. We will remain hovering, though the boat-humans seem to be nervous about us.

I get the impression that dragons may not be a common occurrence in this place, this Tartarus they hail from.

Either that, or they are of the possessed kind.

True enough.

He spoke to the man wielding the long boat hook, carefully not looking at the woman, who seemed more threatened, and also, seemed to be under the protection of the man, understandably. Repeated looks at her in her nearly naked state would not help easy the tension with the man. “I mean you no harm,” he said slowly, as he unthreateningly as possible drew his sword and lay it on the deck of the craft. He did not do the same with his pistol, for fear the motion of the craft would cause it to slide away. “Our people, the Empire of Avelona, has become lost here, and we are scouts, trying to find out that which is around us.” Somehow, the fear they displayed made it easy to trust the two people in front of him. “Might I enquire as to your names, so I know whose help I have received on behalf of my people, and whose hospitality I am so unthinkingly intruding on?”

Southwest (Britmattia)

Colonel of the Guards Enrique Dantoña relaxed under the sun as he led his flight southeast, two green dragons and two red weyrvns, possible the most common colors of each species. Then a sound like he had never heard before caught his attention, drawing him from the half asleep stupor the easy motion and heat and lulled him into.

A roaring, a whistling, a strange odd, and somewhat frightening sound. Through the flight link, he could feel the consternation of the other riders and the creatures they rode, when suddenly his mount bucked upwards, strong beats of its wings carrying it away from whatever produced the sound as it screamed along the surface of the waves below them.

It is only a machine, Glenhaven!

It is fast and large, like a metal bird. The sun glints from it oddly.

We’ve been sent out to investigate, Glenhaven, bring the flight in closer.

If you insist. But I do not like this at all.

The dragons turned towards the strange craft which buzzed about them, then stopped motionless, as if studying them. Falling into a line, the four beasts began to widely circle the odd machine which roared without a visible mouth, constantly. It was much easier this way to study them than to attempt to maintain a hover for an indefinite period, for the gliding spiral would allow the dragons to rest somewhat.

There is a human inside the machine, in the gleaming part near its nose. The machine is extremely hot, like dragon-fire, all over, but especially to its tail. We should not get too close.

I understand, Glenhaven. Thomas, take Speed Scout closer and see if you can communicate with hand signals with the human inside the machine. The smaller of the two weyrvns broke off from the circle and slid along an inward spiral, trying to get close to the machine.

The air was rough as Speed Scout and his rider, Thomas Clayhorn, approached the machine, and he waved frantically to the man he could see as the young weyrvn tried to hover in the buffeting, heated air.

The broad smile on his unhelmeted head certainly looked friendly enough, hopefully, as the young man continued to wave.

South (ZMI)

“Jesu Maria,” came the muttered oath of the Earl of St. Ives as he guided his black dragon and its accompanying flight of a pale blue dragon and a green and red weyrvn.

Nighthunter, just how big is that thing?

I am unsure, Sylvester. Much larger than the largest dragon I have ever known, for certain, or even the ships which the Imperial Navy possesses that I have seen.

I had guessed that on my own. I have never seen a ship so huge.

Milord, are we going to go any closer? That was when Sylvester Cynster realized his flight had been hovering motionless since coming through the cloud back and spotting the massive vessel and its multiple mile long wake.

The spike of blue fire awoke something inside him, and he glared down at the ship. We go closer, but slowly. If it seems threatening, run like hell.

Falling into the diamond formation and not their abreast search formation, the four riders and animals swept closer on powerful beats of the wings, arcing lower as they approached to study the massive vessel.

What can you tell me about it, Nighthunter?

I have never seen a vessel without sails or oars, but this has neither. A number of crew reside on it, and without sails or oars, perhaps it needs very few. There are many heat sources I cannot identify though. A great many, though most seem deep inside. The crew appears to be playing some sort of game on the deck, or were, until we appeared.

How odd. What can you tell me about the blue flame?

There is a large pointed object that seems to be tracking us as we approach. The blue flame came from it. Something makes me think it dangerous, even a weapon, but I know not what it is.

Well, a huge vessel such as this, it must have defenses of some sort, or for pirates, it would be a lifetime’s fortune in a single attack. Do you think we can land?

As long as we are careful, there is plenty of room, but perhaps asking first would be wise. There is a man with some bearing of authority near the pointed object, upon the tower.

Take me closer, and I will ask him then.

The huge black swept closer on powerful strokes of his wings, the rest of the flight staying back, trying to look unthreatening, at least, as much as dragons can, which when one is discussing a scaled and beclawed fire-breathing beast longer than ten men are tall, is not very.

Shifting into a hover about a hundred feet away, the Earl called out to the man. “May we have permission to come aboard your vessel?”

East (Hogsweat)

The smudge on the horizon was becoming far too clear for Baroness Jennermet, who was occasionally known as the Right Honourable Michelle Smith. The shimmering white dragon was a direct contrast to her tight fitting black riding leathers, and she glanced back over her shoulder at her flight, flying in a four-chevron, a green weyrvn to her left, a blue to her right, along with a green dragon.

Then she returned her gaze to the horizon, and growing smudges there. Not just a ship, but an entire fleet of them, apparently. The flight adjusted its course, angling to meet the vessels.

What can you see, Skyqueen?

They are ships of metal, Michelle, and a great heat comes from them. We are still too far away to tell more, though I see nothing that would cause them to move at such speed.

We are faster, no?

Yes, but they are far away. It will be difficult to catch them.

We have to try. That is our mission.

Of course, Michelle. At least they look big enough to land on, especially the middle one.

The flight swept closer as the minutes grew longer, and became tens of minutes, and then half an hour, moving closer bit by bit to the strange vessels which steamed on the horizon. The dragons were moving quicker than their normal speed, but they were a long way from tiring yet.

After long tense minutes of approaching, the smaller white female dragon spoke to her rider again. Their flag resembles ours, though it is different. And there are a great many humans in the swift ships, as many as an army.

Well, I only hope they are friendly then.

There is more. Strange birdlike things appear to be tied to the deck of the largest ship, but they are metal as well, like the ship.

Odd indeed. Let us get closer some more.

The flight swept into the wake of the vessels and began to steadily overhaul them, closing the distance at a respectable speed. They would be overhead in a few minutes.

Northeast (Euroslavia)

A glimpse of something which reflected light more strongly than water did had prompted Captain of the Guards Michael Stanton to guide his dragon downwards through the cloud layer, his flight following him as good riders do.

As first the green dragon he rode, then the blue following him, and the gold and blue weyrvns burst through the low cloud layer, experienced eyes quickly found the object which had originally attracted his attention, which, as he expected, was a ship of some sort. They hovered for a moment, then swooped closer, to get a better view of the vessel, and perhaps figure out how it moved, as Stanton could spot no sails or oars.

Captain, came the voice of Emily Procter, riding the gold weyrvn, how does the vessel move?

I don’t know. I imagine we will find out eventually. Treebrancher, what do you see?

The people run about as if in panic at our appearance. There is much heat coming from the vessel as well. Perhaps it has some sort of fire which moves it.

Is that possible?

Anything is, Michael.

True, Treebrancher. Think it’s big enough to land on?

I am unsure from this altitude. We should go lower to find out. Without waiting for permission, the dragon dropped into a steep dive, plummeting towards the odd ship below them. His rider held back a laugh as he realized what the people below must be thinking, seeing a great dragon appearing from nowhere and now diving down on them.

Pull up, Treebrancher. We don’t wish to scare them. We need information. Get close enough to either land or set me down.

Very well. The dragon levelled out above the deck, and arched its neck, looking consideringly at the ship as it hovered, trying to decide whether or not it could, or would, risk landing.

"Fine substance, this tea, is it not Commodore?" The admiral asked after another sip of the warm imported drink.
"Aye aye Admiral, it is indeed" Wiseman replied with the affirmative. They were the only two in the officers mess - doubtless the rest were on air manouvres or something with the fleet. Sure as sure, Admiral Trey and Commodore Wiseman watched out of the window as three helicopters began to rotate their blades and took off into the air, the royal navy ensign painted on the side of them along witih the royal airforce symbol. The three helicopters took off into the air, ASAC pods mounted, and swiftly went off into the distance to perform some anti submarine practice or something like that.

Suddenly, as Wiseman was glancing out the window, his face changed and he slowly asked
"Er, Admiral, what the hell is that?"
Trey replied with some confusion
"I'm not sure, what the hell are you looking at?"
Wiseman pointed into the sky. "Over there, look." Trey grabbed his binoculars and peered through them, and let out startled whistle as he saw the group of dragons flying on an intercept course to his fleet. They came nearer and nearer, flapping their wings majestically, until Trey could make out the features of their riders and the dragons themselves. Dropping the binoculars, he opened the window, and shouted down to the anti air post where he could see a group of sailors playing poker in the shade of the gun.
"Oi! Ensign! Yeah, you down there! AA post 14!"
The men looked up collectively, dropping their cards as the leader of the gun shouted back
"Yes, sah?"
"Fire a few rounds off in the air would you? Forwards of the ship, mind!"

Trey spotted the man nodding, and the men wheeling the gun up to some sixty degrees before letting off a burst with the twelve barrelled 40mm chaingun. it made a long, rattling sound, and a few explosions in the air due to the flak rounds. It seemed like fire was bursting from the barrel of the chaingun when it fired, long lances of bright energy streaming forth, the tracer's visible even in late afternoon. He then called down to a group of deckhands, who were watching the anti air gun going off, to start doing some antics with the lighters that they used to guide in HELOs in the dark.

The dragons were now in sight of the fleet. Sailors from the Battleship HMS Warrior stood in awe as they saw the beasts flapping their wings, but did nothing. They didn't really imagine anything that didn't have alot of missiles and a big engine to be of any threat to the fleet whatsoever. Removing a loudspeaker, and fixing it up to the extrenal wiring system, Trey spoke down it in his most diplomatic manner;
"Unidentified foreign personnel, you have permission to land on our decks of His Majesty's Nuclear Aircraft Carrier the Irrevocable. Do not worry, you are not in any direct threat."
As Trey slipped on his Admiral's Hat, he raced downdecks to meet the wierd riders if they were to land, Wiseman in close pursuit, he opened hatches and ran down ladders until the pair of senior officers were standing on the deck watching the riders make their decision, with at least ten score sailors and pilots standing by with them.

Both stood just looking at MacLavern and it was Kathy who spoke first, growing less afraid of the man standing before her, even if he did have four dragons flying above him. “I am Katherine Johnson, and that is my husband, Mark.” She kind of pointed in his direction, but her eyes never left the newcomer, so her aim was slightly off and her finger indicated a part of the ocean to the left of the yacht.

Almost as if gaining courage from his wife, and the actions of the man lowering his sword to the deck, Mark lowered his lance, so the hook rested on the ground, even if he did not let go of his weapon entirely. “Where are you from, friend?” The man’s voice called out over the deck, his eyes weary but showing more curiosity than fear. He did not know of any land in the area that professed to having dragons. Of course, it could have just been a gap in his knowledge, but Mark was sure he would have remembered such a detail.

Kathy crouched down, finally being able to move again, and picked up her sarong, wrapping it around her body, feeling less exposed in front of the strangers. Standing, her eyes now moved from the man on the deck, as she gazed passed him at the four beasts overhead. “Do they breathe fire?” She enquired mesmerised, completely missing the conversation happening around her.

Captain Jameson looked at Jason and Jennifer in shock. This sort of thing never happened to anyone. The only time that a dragon appeared to any Euroslavian was at the Arcadian International Airport, in which Lady Destra herself was visited by one.

"We need to stop this... thing!" shouted Jason. "It's going to destroy our boat!"

He had almost begun to order the sailors to get to their battle stations, but before that could happen, the Captain grabbed Jason, put him against the wall softly, and began to speak to him.

"As you can see, this dragon hasn't put on any sort of 'offensive' move towards us. What makes you believe that it is here to harm us?" questioned the Captain. "If it wanted to destroy us, it could have already done so before we had the chance to even begin any sort of attack."

Jason began to relax, though still slightly frightened by the dragon, and thought about it.

He has a point, Jason thought, We'd already be burned to a crisp if it was hostile towards our ship.

Jason looked back at the Captain and Jennifer.
"I'm sorry for my...shocking behavior. It was out of line, and it will not happen again." spoke Jason, as he sighed.

The Captain didn't think anything of it, and only nodded at Jason's apology. At that point, the Captain didn't want his guests to feel as if they weren't welcome, so he began to run over to the sailors who were still in a panic.

"All of you!" he shouted. "Calm down! Our visitors mean no harm. Come over here, and stand still. We don't want to make them feel uncomfortable at all."

At that point, the sailors dropped what they were doing, which mostly consisted of running around in a circle, and falling to the ground, and got behind the Captain, Jason, and Jennifer. Jennifer simply watched everything that occurred in the past five minutes, and gave a brief chuckle that no one even noticed.

Angelo looked as the creature which he could only call a dragon grew closer, its vast musclature flexing as it hauled itself through the air and a deep part of his city memory artificial self preservation core screamed “combat form! run to the shelters! Call the drones!”. Angelo the man overrode that ancient held artificial race memory which echoed through the incoherent scraps of code that were left all through the nebulous programming of his implant and neatly playing his right hand across the insubstantial control surface he ordered the crew below decks, while reconfiguring the massive grapnel field generators mounted at the end of each crane derrick. If one looked closely at the instectile forms of the cranes one could note that their air intakes were now gapping open and plumes of heated air were clearly rising from their housings. Then he saw the rider, and decades of Int-Sec training and endless lines of code slapped into force as the man spoke.

“May we have permission to come aboard your vessel?”

In the moment of address Angelo prodding his rarely used int-sec cold link had the following conversation with the drone.
“Analysis”
“Well hello to you too captain, nice to see you have not lost your sense of humour”
To Anglos mind the voice was young and male and very familiar namely because he had spoken to it less that two days ago about a certain trading concern both parties had invested in.
“Redge the commune sent you?”
“Sent no. I volunteered of all things, though I feel my bank balance may regret it.”
“Redge what the hell is that?”

Before we go any further it may be necessary to espouse a little about Redge. Redge is a an artificial citizen sentient and member of the AI commune, “commune” however is a deceptive word as such the system guarantees enough processing power to keep a sentient operating and its data intact, this however is not a way the fast living AI’s wish to live and they must “buy” extra power. This not only gives them a work ethic beyond which mere logic dictates but also as such ties them to the capitalist system under which the company operates. Redge is not just in it for the money however, with his core being built around that of a warrior. A smart warrior but a warrior non the less. As a group the ZMI AI’s are tied to the real world and the happenings therein by such systems. Redge and Angelo have history, Redge being the combat control agent sent most often to assist Angelo in his long and sometimes weapons fire filled career. Such partnering are usual within int-sec and indeed the entire of the company. Redge now owes the company 2.3 million rungs and riseing. He will if he decides to use his ammunition based ordinance makes even more of a dent in his now severly over drawn current account which presently reads 2,483.223 OD. It is therefore somewhat lucky for Redge that the gestalt steps in and makes this a “state” affair.


“Before you say otherwise no its not a special order combat form though it does bare a striking exterior resemblance to a sphandor series four.”
“External?”
“You were always the smart boy Angelo, internally that beast is as natural as your daughter and though larger stronger and with the ability to breathe plasma fire just as vulnerable as any conventional flesh and blood form. Though I am detecting low exotic radiation readings from its frontal lobes its defiantly of natural origin.”

It should be noted that Redge is seeing through the collective networked multiple bandwidth eyes of the Bucklin Bess. The Bess being what she is is however blind as a proverbial or indeed real bat. What Redge also has at his disposal are the exotic and to him somewhat heady suite of sensors provided by a Mk.XXXIV SCAPA heavy industries “Undertow” class close naval support combat drone body rated for heavy combat in a variety of situations close to liquid mediums and equipped with among other things enough energy armament to level a small town and for no good reason at all save the odd minds and deprivations of engineers after too many days in a design room a complex system of combat water filters that could produce not only water so pure you could literally run a fusion plant on it but also a perfect chemical clone of coffee. Redge will not access with his consciousness the small snipped of code associated with this device nor will he use it.


“Plasma fire?”
“Don’t worry Angelo Im quite sure my battle screen can shield you”
“I don’t like the sound of “quite sure””
“Would you prefer the statistical and probability analysis?”
“Not even slightly”
“Redge it’s a smecking DRAGON for smecks sake”
“Yes Angelo and by my analysis its DNA checks out as organically generated too, no combat designer worth its salt would leave so many loop hole vectors of attack and before you ask neither would a utility or luxury form provider. By the by I now estimate its total cranial activity as definitely sentient.”
“the Rider?”
“Grade A 100% human with a definitive latent psi talent that rates at least a four on the pton scale. Dress and materials analysis indicated fuedal system origin with a technological cap at no later than the 1700s base line 1:1 Teran at maximum. ”
Angelo virtually sighed
“A new continuity brake?”
“Probability is at 98.94% +-1.33 for”
“Blast well I suppose I will have to role out the company welcome mat then”
A cold broke over the conversation and an odd rolling voice echoed out.
“Yes citizen Angelo as of now you are on a pro tem basis re instated with all ranks privileges and accesses of a grade one INT-Sec officer”.
“Smeck”
“Angelo we don’t ask that you are happy with it, and we know you have done your allotted service to us and the people. We simply ask that you serve again and Angelo we know you. You will serve and you will be rewarded but you would do so without such .We trust you Angelo Wilkins for good or for ill. You are granted power of plenipotentiary for this incident”
Angelo was more than a tad shocked at this point and the rider may have noticed his face whitening for a moment. This was no system agent, or far of int-sec or company bureaucrat this was the gestalt itself. His only response was to mentally stammer “Yes your honours” then a further silent stream of “smecks”
“Redge look after Angelo for us”
The coldness left as fast as it had came.
“bloody hell Angelo”
“yes redge bloody hell, now can you take that lot?”
“This is a mighty shiny drone body compared to the clapped out things you were used to in your time Angelo this thing could probably take on a 20th century tank division without a scratch especially with this nice little shooter on front.”
“I hate those things one of them killed my grandfather on the Blastin crossing barricades during the rising. ”

The neural stripper is a nasty unpleasant and thoroughly dishonourable weapon with the sole purpose of remotely burning out the nervous systems of carbon based Multi cellular organised life. It is exceptionally good at this and not much else operating on an ill understood exotic radiation band a good solid lump of conductive metal can usually stop a wide spread beam. The Mk.XXXIV SCAPA heavy industries “Undertow” is however armed with a neural stripper lance with ranks of beam confinement and enhancement units inside the long silvery and featureless conical projection that is presently rather disturbingly arcing between the two closest dragon riders heads much like a child’s finger saying “eenie meenie mino moe”. Victims responses vary from simply dropping dead to in extreme cases espoused mostly in popular day time fiction having their craniums violently explode. The weapon is proscribed by law from civilian use and for that matter the use by the army. No group built around the concept that killing could be a good idea should ever be given neural strippers. They were not a weapon that “looked” like a weapon, that said hello there look at my shiny death lets talk instead of loping each others ears off. They were a weapon for killing and the mind burned AI’s that the shareholders had used to man there last line of offensive drones in the final days of the last risieng had used them with abandon on the megacities teeming population. A swathe of advancing crowd or civilian militia would drop dead as one scythed through their ranks, bodies sickeningly kept alive by implants too stupid to realise that the consciousness they served was now a empty drewling wreck that should be by all rights quite dead. With the shareholders lock out and deletion from the central archives of any “traitorous pleb organic drones” this had meant a somewhat permanent and unpleasant death for all those who were victim. They were in other words a weapon with a bad reputation. Of course no weapon has a truly “good” reputation from those on the receiving end even if that end is a seamless chrome colour that would not look out of place in a fashionable kitchen.

“ I know you do Angelo but they do work and if you do allow yon riders to land”
“Redge please don’t”
“Just getting in the mood of things, but if you do they will all be well within reach of those nice grapnel fields and we really won’t have to worry about a thing. As is I can keep a firm monitor on all there internal plasma movements, their hides are tough, they would stop a power dart from your old P280 in your cabin.”
“Smeck.”
“Just do your duty Angelo your good at that.”

Angelo now spoke out loud his lilting voice with just a hint of Italian amplified and booming from the ship wide PA system like a small and authoritarian god, Int-Sec voice training giving the solid impression of power.
“This is the captain of the Bucklin Bess, You may land sir upon the main cargo deck, however this is a merchant marine vessel and uncivil action will not be tolerated. I believe however we may know your purpose and hold the answers you are looking for.”

“Bravo Angelo”
“Redge?”
“Yes Angelo?”
“Tell me if one of them so much as brakes wind in an aggressive way oh and Redge?”
“Yes Angelo?”
“No god damn theatrics.”
“* sigh * yes Angelo”

[OOC: I lost track of which directions are still available, so I'll let you decide. Is that fine with you? Probably Southeast...]

Noir 5th Expeditionary Force

NSS Eclipse (S.C.V.N. 10)

"What!" exclaimed a large booming voice. "You mean to tell me that ALL forms of communication and location positioning systems have been pulled offline, save for the shortwave radios. What is going on?" The words echoed throughout the nearby corridors, stopping anyone who heard it.

"Sir, remember the Eclipse is still on its trial run, and the CI onboard the Eclipse is still not fully operational. She might have accidentally pulled the entire communications network for the entire fleet offline." said a young ensign. From his appearance, he had run all the way from across the ship to report this information personally to the admiral. The young man continued to sweat all over as the animosity emitting from the admiral in front of him continued to overwhelm him. At the same time, the ensign was in awe at the sheer fearful power of the admiral's presence.

"I didn't know the CI had access to pull ALL communications." said the admiral as he turned his chair around to face the nervous ensign. The captain had managed to regain his composure of a calm and strong seaman his crew had known him to be. He inhaled and exhaled again to calm himself down. "Just get this predicament fixed. Dismissed."

The young ensign stood up straight and saluted, which was promptly returned by the admiral, and walked out of the room. The admiral returned to his flexipad on his desk that he had abandoned when the ensign came in. He took hold of one of the rubber-like synthetic handles and lifted the paper-thin sheet to a more comfortable view arrangement. It was indeed true that the entire communications system was offline. The aging admiral rifled through various screens showing various charts, graphs, and statistics. All of which showed zero signal strength. He ran his hands through his grey hair as he let out a sigh.

Admiral James Lee was a legend among those in the Noirian Naval Fleet. But many did not know the exact details of why he was a legend and almost mythical figure. Rumors of the aging admiral specified that he had survived almost a thousand engagements and was almost killed in one. Another rumor was that he had defeated an entire enemy fleet that was almost fifty times larger than the fleet he was commanding. Some outlandish rumors had centered on the fact that Admiral James Lee had died hundreds of years ago and was resurrected by some mad scientists and then given command of the fleet.

The trimaran hull of the Noir supercarrier Eclipse, flagship of the 5th Expeditionary Force, cut through the warm waters of some southeastern sea. All avionics on the three flight decks had ceased due to the current situation. The bridge atop the large shark fin like superstructure was a buzz. Men and women were frantically working at their stations. The radar-ops were busy ensuring that they would not be ambushed. Communications were tirelessly working on repairing the lost communications, while at the same time directing orders through burst communication with the several other ships in the fleet. The IT personnel were busy running through the computers and re-programming the Combat Intelligence, the accused cause of the communication blackout. Half the crew who comprehended the immensity of this problem was simply dumbstruck at what happened and how to fix the problem.

This image was very similar to dozens of other ships that littered the small area of the vast sea. Many people had tried calculating their location by adding the distance they had already traveled to the last reported location. But the problem that came up was that all the CI kept changing the direction of the fleet. The Eclipse's CI had begun running complex manuevers that kept them from ascertaining their location. All they knew now was that they were currently off course. Having all of the naval, communcation, and navigation technology at their disposal, they had gotten themselves lost.

---

NSS Nagatuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

The sky turned to a red hue as the sun continued sink beneath the horizon. From ship to ship, the waning sun begun to transform each ship into a sleek specter of the dark. Camouflage arrays on certain ships had begun to change the ships’ uniform grey hulls to colors that mimicked the horizon. The red flags with a image of a golden dragon in the center billowed in the evening breeze on the sterns many of the ships or ontop of their superstructures.

Across from the long shark like profile of the Eclipse, sailed the advanced guided-missile cruiser Nagatuki. Nagatuki, Japanese for “the month of long nights,” the sleek catamaran sat low in the water. Equipped with millions of supercavitating pores along its catamaran hull, it allows the vessel to lift off of the water, revealing the cruiser’s twin-hulls and reach incredible speeds. The Phantom arrays were the most powerful in the entire 5th Expeditionary Force with its unprecedented detection range and acute sensors. The sheer range of the Nagatuki without the need for external positioning systems, mainly GPS, would have made the cruiser the most powerful vessel in the entire fleet in this communication blackout.

The ship truly was a specter of the night. But since the trial run of the Eclipse required all systems to be directly networked to the Eclipse’s CI, the Nagatuki was running blind.

Captain Alexandra Yui sat on a foldable beach chair that she had carried out to the bow of her ship. With an antiqued telescope set in had. On her free time she would go outside and scan the horizon and sky, admiring the stars. She needed this time, especially after all the stress she had left behind for her second in command to continue.

Captain Yui drew back her silky black hairs of her bangs out of her face and placed the telescope’s eye piece onto her left eye. Immediately as she brought the telescope up and focused it, she saw the silhouettes of several large birds coming toward them. Her interest peeked at once. They couldn’t be seagulls. She thought to herself, they were too far from land and the fact that those wings. They couldn’t be wings. In a cliché fashion, she rubbed her eyes and then returned the telescope to her eye. Now she could see a shape of a person riding on top of the strange animal.

[OOC2: Hope I’m not too late for the RP.]

Northwest (Gehenna)

MacClavern smiled slowly at the two people, letting his gaze rest on the woman’s face as she spoke, inwardly sighing with relief when she put on the wrap, though it did not really help much. There is such as thing as unnecessary temptation.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both, Mister and Misses Johnson.” He realized the people must be still in a state of shock, and he smiled slightly. “I hail from Avelona, which is…” he raised his hand and pointed generally southeast, “…about a hundred miles that way. We left it some hours ago in search of someone who could help us determine where we were.” At the last question, though, he grinned boyishly, making him appear much more youthful and less threatening. “They do not breathe fire, exactly. Shadowreaver?”

The massive grey dragon swooped low over the boat and breathed out, and heat enveloped them, surrounding them as the very air itself melted a hundred feet above their heads. The intensity of the plasma bolt would heat their skin for a moment uncomfortably, as it felt like the sun was merely feet away and getting closer every second.

But then it passed as quickly as it had occurred, for the blast from the dragon was short and small, vanishing into the air around them, but leaving the temperature raised somewhat dramatically for the next little while until the beating wings of the dragons overhead drove it away with a slight breeze.

“It is a combination of elemental fire and electricity, a plasma which exists at the very edge of both those ranges. Direct contact is more than sufficient to vaporize steel.” He smiled proudly at his dragon as it gained altitude once more.

“Now, I was sent out to find information, and you two are too good an opportunity to pass up, if you are willing to help.”

South (ZMI)

St. Ives smiled at the man’s response, and was, truthfully, surprised that he would be offering up the information so freely. He was, after all, the captain of a merchant vessel, or so he claimed, which meant he would probably want something in return, though the Earl was at a loss to figure out what he would give the man if he did want information.

Raising his hand in a fist, elbow bent at a right angle, he swept it downward and forward in the hand signal to land. As was procedure, the weyrvns swept in first, very birdlike in their manner, feet extended as they reared up, wings spread for balance. The dragons would land second in an unknown situation, as they were slower on take off due to their size. Safety first. With a clatter of their ivory coloured claws on metal, they hit the deck one by one, until all four animals were down.

I could get used to this. The deck is quite warm and exposed to the sun.

Do not fall asleep, Nighthunter.

Fine.

Patting the side of the dragon’s neck, Sylvester felt him dip his shoulder under him, and then slid down off the great beast’s neck, his boots ringing faintly on contacting the deck, which he realized a bit too late was slick with something. He managed not to fall, though, nor even stumble.

The sound of his dragon’s mental laughter came to him. You could have warned me, you foul creature.

And lose some entertainment? I am the one that had been doing all the work for the last few hours.

Glaring up briefly at the dragon’s multifaceted eye, gleaming down on him, he snorted annoyedly, and then turned to see the rest of his flight making their way around their animals to him. Each wore a thin, rapier like sword, and a pistol of sorts low on their thigh, their clothing composed of dark leather, though only the Earl wore solid black.

Cool green eyes assessed the deck of the ship, the towering gantries and the tower itself where the captain had stood. He fearlessly met the gaze of the crew members near by, and his bearing was not one of someone who could be trifled with. He was certainly a warrior, if they knew enough to recognize one from their carriage and movement, and a darkness hidden behind a façade of friendship revealed that this was a man who had no problem with killing when the need arose. The three with him were the same, all obviously experienced in a field of war.

They followed the Earl as he led them forward to greet the captain of the merchant vessel, halting two paces behind him, flanking him to the left and right. “Captain, allow me to present myself, the Earl of St. Ives, and my companions, Dragonriders Samuel Kincade, David Matthews, and Amanda Daniels. We are from the Empire of Avelona, and find ourselves, and our nation, most embarrassingly lost. At the command of His Imperial Majesty, my flight is one of many that is scouting and seeking information. Can you help us?”

The speech was something the Earl had been working on for the last couple of hours, on the off chance they had found someone just exactly as they had. It was one of several variants.

Southeast (-Noir-)

Something was ahead, but in the growing darkness, it was becoming difficult to identify the shapes. Fortunately, there was no land near by, and the shapes were moving over the water, which, in turn, meant they almost certainly had to be ships of some kind.

Definitely ships, as they were far too large to be mere boats. Laura Rilken, Captain in the Air Guards, directed her flight towards the shapes to examine them more closely. Her dark blue dragon curved on a wingtip, levelling off as it headed right for the vessels, glowing brightly in its infrared vision.

They definitely appear to be military vessels of some sort. There are protrusions that resemble cannons and smaller firearms. And they maintain too large a number of people aboard them to be cargo ships, Laura. There is no room for their cargo.

Can you show me what you see, Wavesheath?

I can, but it will probably give you a headache again, like last time.

Just do it.

While human eyes were unsuited to the task they were being put to, dragon eyes, with their ability to pick out small details over great distance and to see beyond a human spectrum, were especially suited to seeing things, even those that tried to hide in the night. It definitely gave Laura a headache as she closed her eyes to shut off the confusion of dual optical input.

Captain, Wind Talker thinks there is a woman down there on the smaller ship who has seen us.

Wavesheath, do you see who Wind Talker is thinking of?

Yes, I do. I agree with her. She is holding a telescope which is pointed directly at us.

Pretty good sign that, I suppose. Well, let’s go in.

The dragons and weyrvns dropped lower towards the waves, level with the bow deck of the ship from which they were being watched, and swept closer to the woman who had spotted them, strong beats of their wings sending them forward at speed.

East (Hogsweat)

Baroness Jennermet smiled tightly at the words that echoed up from the largest ship below them as they swept in a hundred feet above its deck level. Though originally startled by what was obviously weapons fire from the front of the huge vessel, the flight had not broken off. Certainly there were enough weapons on the multitude of ships below them to hurt them if that had been the intent.

Many of the words were strange, of course, but the phrase ‘direct threat’ bothered the flight leader indefinably, and put an edge of steel in her spine.

I assume you can land on that thing, Skyqueen?

Of course. I was not hatched yesterday, you know. I could land on something much smaller, in fact.

Let us not do that. The big one will do just fine.

The dragons swept once over the flat grey deck, then circled back around, as the largest clear space was to the aft of the vessel. Giving the signal to land, Michelle had her white dragon go into a hover as the weyrvns and the other dragon landed. Then the white descended, agilely missing the odd cables strung across the decking as a swish of air rushed outward to snatch at headgear of those nearby as a result of the backwinging animal.

Moments later, the four Avelonans stood together, framed against the bulk of their mounts. The three men stood behind the baroness, who walked forward over the deck carefully, not quite accustomed to the motion of the sea, slight though it was on the huge vessel. But even still, she was graceful and regal of bearing, her blonde hair drawn back in a ponytail, her blue eyes examining the cacophony of coloured clothing around them, compared to the simple darkness, black and brown, of the riders’ gear.

Can you see anyone who appears to be in charge, Skyqueen?

There is an older man in fancier clothing than the others. At guess, from our own navy, he would be in charge.

Ah, right. Which way then? In response, Jennermet felt her eyes briefly focus slightly to her left and turning on her heel, she headed that way, her flight members behind her. To the members of the ship’s crew, no doubt the swords seemed odd, and the pistols strapped low on their thighs even odder. But then, they had arrived on dragons, so it was unlikely they were considered normal in any way.

As she approached the older man, she considered her best approach, concluding from the number of decorations and adornments that he almost had to be in charge of the vessel. Comparatively, the tight black leather trousers and brown, high collared riding jacket were only provided with swashes of colour by her rank knots, signifying her as Baroness Jennermet and as flight leader, if one could read them.

Stopping a few feet away, still studying him, and realizing she was now looking up at him, Jennermet extended her hand in greeting. “Hello, good sir. I am Baroness Jennermet, and this is my flight. Might I enquire as to whom I have the honour of meeting?”

Northeast (Euroslavia)

I think we can all land on it, if we are careful, Michael, though flat spaces will be difficult.

Right. Well, then all the riders will go down, and each dragon-weyrvn pair will take turns staying airborne if we’re here for a while. It seems likely we might be, though you can all land if we’re here overnight, assuming they don’t mind.

A good idea. As Michael circled overhead with the rest of his flight landing, he observed the panic aboard ebbing under the direction of an older man. That is the man I need to talk with, I believe.

At last, the green dragon descended to the deck and Michael quickly slid from the beast’s neck, having been informed that Treebrancher would be joining the gold Fortune Hunter aloft for the time being. As his flight drew up around him, the two female weyrvn riders and Jason McAndrews of the other dragon, they moved towards the settling crowd of sailors towards the older man their flight leader had spotted while airborne, guided by Treebrancher’s really unnecessary directions from overhead.

Boots not being the best thing for movement over the metal deck of the ship, Michael moved slowly to keep his balance, and to give the man, undoubtedly an officer, time to notice them moving for him and ready himself to receive visitors. Dimly from the recesses of his mind, he dredged up the formal greeting of a low ranking officer, then dispensed with it.

Stupid ritual was for normal times, which this was most assuredly not. “Flight Leader, Captain of the Imperial Avelonan Air Guards, Michael Stanton and my flight, Emily Proctor, Jason McAndrews, and Rebecca Stanton, my sister. I thank you for your hospitality in receiving us, and request your assistance in the fulfilment of our duty to the Emperor, as we come seeking information.” He extended his hand in greeting at the beginning of the speech.

The display did not make Kathy feel any better about her predicament. She shivered visibly despite the increase of heat in the air, as she looked back at MacClavern. His smile and genuine interest in the power of the dragons made him seem less intimidating, and it was this, more than anything, that calmed Kathy’s nerves, making her feel a little more like her usual self.

“That was…um…amazing.” She even managed to find a little smile, which helped her finally regain all use of her body, and the rigidness that had been present since her gaze had first fallen on the dark spot on the horizon. She lifted her eyes back to heaven, watching the giant beasts as they flew around overhead.

Mark lowered the pole to the floor and walked towards MacClavern, placing his hand reassuringly on his wife’s shoulder as he passed her, whispering softly words of encouragement, which seemed to have an added effect on her. He stopped as he stood right in front of the newcomer.

“Avelona?” Mark frowned and shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it.” He fell silent as if he was looking at a map in his head, his brow creasing more as he thought. “No, I can’t place the country at all.” He looked at the man as if he had a madman in front of him. “As for helping, sure, why not.”

"Jesus Christ.."
The men stood in amazement as the dragons landed smoothly on the now clear HELO deck of the Irrevocable. Pictures taken from the crew of other vessels would soon be circulating the media and the internet. Some of the crew took a step back when the dragons landed, scared that if they were on the hull there would be nothing to stop them except the point defense. However, they did not seem like that was their intent. The sailors watched, rather rudely, as the foreigners that had just landed on their decks talked among themselves and even to the dragons that were now sitting comparatively inert on the Irrevocable.

The sailors and the officers from other ships watched curiously, the drama being played out in front of their eyes with the fantastic beasts and their mysterious riders. All attention was focused on them as they stepped forward to approach Admiral Trey, who was slightly taller than the leader.
Trey could see that this woman was high ranking, and had to be treated with a certain degree of respect demanded from foreigners who the Admiral had never met before, unless of course they were hostile; the respect then was sent in the form of a missile or hundred. As the woman extended her hand, Trey had already done so, and the two met halfway. It seemed that was one thing that all civilisations had in common. They shook, and Trey withdrew. Then, she spoke. It was English, no doubt, although the accent was unrecognisable by the Admiral.
“Hello, good sir. I am Baroness Jennermet, and this is my flight. Might I enquire as to whom I have the honor of meeting?”

"Ah" Trey replied "Welcome on board my vessel, Baroness Jennermet, and I hope your stay, for however long it is, is pleasent. Welcome too, to your flight and their..animal friends." Trey wasn't quite sure how to label the dragons. "I, am Rear Admiral Trey, of His Majesty Josef Dorsal I of Hogsweat's Royal Navy." Trey smiled "I'm sure this is alot to take in, but i'll continue. This ship is the HMS Irrevocable, a nuclear aircraft carrier." Trey was quite sure that the Baroness had no idea what a nuclear aircraft carrier was, let alone what it did, but he felt that she should know anyway. "And that vessel over there, that's the HMS Warrior, a Battleship." Trey pointed about a kilometre ahead of the Irrevocable and no doubt, there was the Warrior an outdated, yet still powerful, class. "And all around us are submarines, underwater. Anyway, I digress. What is your business here, Baroness?" Trey finished his long speech and awaited eagerly, as did the rest of the crew, an answer.

The Southern Ocean.

Bader looked at the smiling, waving young man.
"Uh...scratch that last, the day a Kalessini looks this cheerful without being up to his knees in gold...well.."
He reached under his chin and unlatched the faceplate of his helmet, scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"I have a horrible feeling I've got a First Contact out here, and I failed the last course we had on that."
A thoughtful smile.
"Which took some doing, heh."
His helmet speakers crackled and informed him that there were no Kingdom citizens in the area at present, especially not ones on dragonback.
Alexi pursed his lips thoughtfully at this information, radioed back his suspicions of this being a first contact situation, calmly ignored the instructions to sit tight and wait for the Horatius to arrive and removed his helmet entirely, thumbing the release for his canopy, which slid back into the skin of the Mako with a hiss of equalising pressures.
Alexi removed his heavy flight-suit gauntlets, stood up, balancing in the open nose of his fighter as he waved back to the dragon riders, pitching his voice to carry over the idling hum of the Mako's engine and shouting an enquiry in impeccably-accented Multiversal.
"I say, do any of you fellows speak this language? Anyone at all?"
He smiled hopefully, waiting for a bit, then repeated his question in Gaullois, the High Tongue, and rather hopefully, Sindarin.
Alexi was, after all, an officer and a gentleman, a class who'd never dream of speaking less than four languages.
He sat back in his rock-steady fighter, crossing his legs, pondering the cultural ramifications of pulling out a cigarette from his flight suit and exactly how much trouble he was in, all the while smiling cheerily and waiting for a response.

The Bucklin Bess
Angelo winced at the sound and sight of those huge claws as they found purchase on the cargo pods and took in his guests appearance in augmented detail. Int-Sec software intruded into the Bess’s systems and facial muscle mapping, thermal analysis and passive electromagnetic ran a wide band of emotional and biological status checks on each of the visitors.


“Bio sweep?”
“Clean Angelo though our visitors do have some quite interesting scars and signs of psi assisted healing in their system”

The Earls speech registered on Angelos mind in slow motion as his Int-Sec neural accelerants one by one kicked into operation.

“Captain, allow me to present myself, the Earl of St. Ives, and my companions, Dragonriders Samuel Kincade, David Matthews, and Amanda Daniels. We are from the Empire of Avelona, and find ourselves, and our nation, most embarrassingly lost. At the command of His Imperial Majesty, my flight is one of many that is scouting and seeking information. Can you help us?”

“How do I address an “Earl” redge?”

“Earl A British nobleman next in rank above a viscount and below a marquis, corresponding to a count in continental Europe. You’re a Captain in the ZMIMM and a Int-Sec officer in feudal terms I suppose we could equate that as a knight of the realm but it’s a mute point as your not a citizen of his realm. Sentence structure and accent analysis show a 87% of a Anglo oriented cultural background as does DNA extrapolation. Just tread him with diplomatic respect”

Angelo spoke, his starched white shirt rustling In the sea breeze its form somewhat rumpled, a small bar-coded rank designator ID tag clipped to the right shirt pocket and a set of somewhat small black and gold epaulets on his sholders. His shorts were an unremarkable and somewhat baggy canvas like material, his belt studded with a multitude of devices, some of which were flashing with read outs and lights, a pair of ice white socks surmounted polished sensible black shoes.

“I am Captain Angelo Wilkins of the Merchant Marine vessel Bucklin Bess out of Megacity One and pro tem plenipotentiary officer of state. This is Redge” Angelo gestured to the drone “ an artificial life form and at the moment acting as my second, my first officer is at present indisposed due to an unfortunate cargo loading accident. In relation to help I suggest you direct your attention to Redge before we continue discussion.”

Redges boyish voice came out loud from the odd form of the Undertow drone body as did a holo projector stud.

“Hi I’m Redg-E-2Alpha or Redge, As the good captain has stated I am going to I believe answer your questions. What you are about to see and hear are a permanent record just like a book, but of sight and sound. The contend of the following is a short informative presentation that should explain the basics of the situation to the best of our knowledge.”

Redge made an audible click and a screen flared to existence beside Angelo, a brief splash screen appearing with the words “DOFA BREIFING DT023” stencilled in white over a greyed out dove.
A figure in an ivory white suit behind a huge seemingly black marble desk appeared, behind him vast windows showed the seemingly endless cornubation of Megacity One, its towering convoluted masses of structures looking almost like an agitated sea, broken only by the massive shining chrome like masses of sector walls all wreathed in a never ending clamour of advertisements. The sky was covered in a scattering of light cloud, and tinged purple from a sunset. Huge plodding airborne cargo hauliers sedately moved in streams while darting air cars whirled in patterns only the effects of a thousand traffic control agents could create but only a sentient could appreciate. Occasionally the massive form of a heavy cargo maglev could be seen, its segmented utilitarian form covered with corporate logos. If one looked closely one could make out the hundreds of tiered avenues that linked the seemingly insane constructions and the tiny figures and ground cars making their way along them.

“Good day my name is Roy O’Brien and you may have seen me in such DOFA briefings as “how not to use the file shredding system” and “How to avoid the menacing slug beasts from Slavarian IV at diplomatic functions” and “why not to pour white wine into a Mark.39 energy sink”
The mans face was guiless as it was perfectly chosen inspire just enough confidence in the viewer not to raise suspicion, and the desk had a neat silver paperweight in the shape of a flying dove.

“Approximately 128 standard years ago by our time in the entire universe suffered a catastrophic fractal failure of reality as a whole.”

An exquisitely animated diagram which had replaced Roy’s face starting with the image of the planet quickly zoomed out past the planets out of the solar system, out of the galaxy and eventually representing the universe as a large spinning ball full of lights. This ball then shattered.

“In simple terms the very walls of our and every possible or probable reality shattered to some extent or another. The accidents origins are unknown but on a scale quite literally beyond our comprehension. The loci or rather nexus of this “event” was unfortunately our planet and our planet split of into literally millions of possible histories or what we like to dub “probability chains”.”

The display showed a tree with multiple primary coloured branches with only one path highlighted but all paths still branching then suddenly an ungainly mess where all paths were highlighted and interconnected by wire thin lines.

“The basic reality that we had lived with had simply ceased to be as it was. Instead of an “island universe” we were presented with a multiverse with all “universes” existing at once and intersecting at multiple points, with infinite properties and infinite size and diversity. For our purposes new landmasses appearing out of the ocean where they should not be and in fact the planets surface now has an “undefined” and possibly due the nature of the “multiverse” infinitely expansive surface area with infinite possible diversity of terrain therein, in our own case our great city found itself transplanted into a wholly new and different continent.”

The planet was shown again with bizarre cross sections of different maps laying over sections and constantly changing before the view of Roy and the vista of Megacity one once more filled the hovering screen.

“For all we know this “event” could have been a natural part of the ageing process of the universe, an accident or a deliberate act, and in 128 years of searching using the considerable resources at our disposal we have yet to find a definitive answer. ”

The display once more flickered to the planetary surface, now dotted with the fractal probability “trees”.

“This is the end effect, a constant fractal plane of reality that for the most part does appear to have reached a new level of stability with the planets surface and orbits seemingly quite navigable even given its somewhat odd nature. In places the very passage of time itself seems to have gone at different rates. Further out the entire universe at nexus of activity by sentient creatures has become similarly split. Whether it is the passing point between to particles leaked from a ships exhaust or the greatest cities imaginable the universe as you knew it no longer for you at least exists with its nature instead defined by the clustered and massed probability altering activities of sentient life..”


“Do however not fall into despair, instead rejoice, though many risks now may assail you and your people many opportunities for furthering your nation whatever its nature abound ”

Images of marching grim faced soldiers, huge rolling armoured behemoths, screeching jets and then an endless tirade of sometimes sickening biological forms all in similar poses of warlike nature flickered over the screens insubstantial surface merging suddenly into heartrendingly beautiful landscapes in a thousand different colours populated by races who’s beauty took the breath way, cities seemingly formed from great trees or endless crystal oceans rising to the stars a smorgasbord of flags and symbols flickering past. Finally the image rested on the slowly rippling flag of the company the stylised ZMI ziggurats form lanced by light before fading to the original splash screen. A different voice spoke “This has been a ZMI Department of Foreign affairs audio visual briefing”

The screen collapsed with a silent sparkle of incoherent light.

Angelo cleared his throat, glaring at Redge’s silvered form before addressing the Earl and his party once more.

“I realise the ah reality shock may take a few minutes to get over, but I wish to tell you now that my government and people wish only peaceful trade and I’m certain our knowledge and trade could greatly assist your people.”

Megacity One, Zone one, Sector One, The Ziggurat

Cold reason battled the task of decision making with weapons of fact and demographic analysis with the accumulated knowledge and memories of a thousand lifetimes all wielded by the will, compassion and emotions of a dozen made into one.

The gestalt spread out a string of order flags and a DOFA team had within minutes assembled and begun the task of preparing on the meagre information already gathered on the Bess for a mission. A new market was a new market however poor and the minor cost of having these individuals do work that would be carried out in a basic fact finding survey anyway cost the gestalt in the long term nothing of note when balanced against probable profits.

The Captain looked at the oncoming arrivals, and nodded back towards them. He had no idea what he was in for, but something deep inside him yearned for a new adventure. He would hate to admit it to the rest of the people on board, and to his assistants, but he wanted to do something big... something daring, and perhaps, this was his only chance of doing so.

“Flight Leader, Captain of the Imperial Avelonan Air Guards, Michael Stanton and my flight, Emily Proctor, Jason McAndrews, and Rebecca Stanton, my sister. I thank you for your hospitality in receiving us, and request your assistance in the fulfilment of our duty to the Emperor, as we come seeking information.”

"Captain Thomas Jameson of the H.M.S. Arcadaia here, along with my assistants Jason Andrews and Jennifer Watts. It is with great pleasure that we receive you here, though I must admit, the rest of the sailors, and even Jason were a big frightened."

He looked over at Jason, gave him a friendly punch, at which Jason winced, and turned completely red. Sometimes the Captain simply underestimated how powerful even his friendly punches are.

"Anyways, you say that you request information?" he asked. "What sort of information are you seeking, and what sort of assistance is needed in regards to your Emperor?"

Normally, the Captain would be very hesitant at sharing any sort of information of the crew, the ship, and anything else of relevance, but this situation seemed ...different. The rest of the crew was still looking quite disturbed at the events that recently took place. It was a bit out of ordinary for a dragon to suddenly land on your ship, still, most of them gave a curious look to the guests, rather than a frightened face.

NSS Nagatuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

Alexandra stood up from her chair, telescope still in hand. Her full figure came into view as the rays of the moon hit her as she stood up at the bow of the giant ship. Wearing a large black leather overcoat over her white naval uniform, she pulled up her leather sleeve and wiped the moist telescope lens on her cotton polo shirt. Alexandra then pulled back her black hairs from her face and replaced the telescope back at eye level.

"What the?" were the only words that had come out of her mouth ever since she spotted the flight of what appeared to be giant birds. No, giant lizards with wings, was a better description. Suddenly, her flexipad had begun to buzz from her inner coat pocket. She slid her hand underneath her heavy cloak and extracted the thin flexipad.

"Ma'am we've spotted a..." started her Officer of the Deck who appeared very flustered on the sea sprayed screen.

"Yes, I see it also," calmly replied Captain Yui, as if it the giant flying beasts were a common appearance.

"We couldn't detect them because..."

"Because you picked up organic signatures and registered them for a large flock of birds."

"Yes, ma'am. And they're still headed this way. At their current speed..."

"I estimate 5 minutes," said the young woman. The bright light of the flexipad reflected off of Alexandra's face, revealing a smile. This motion seemed to calm down her OOD who had no idea what was going on. "Send a few security units here. I believe we've got some visitors. Set caseless ammunitions to ceramics."

"Ma'am? Visitors?"

"Yes, visitors." Alexandra lifted up her telescope back to her eyes. Now she could clearly see the various riders on top of something she'd only see in fantasy books and movies.

Up on the bridge, everything was moving hectically as if they were on in the battle zone. The lights that were usually dimmed blue on account of the time of day were red due to the alert status. The sudden appearance of moving organic objects had not caught anyone's attention until someone pointed out their size, the fact that there was supposedly no land for hundreds of miles, and that this large object was steadily approaching the fleet. Now people who were not busy trying to repair the damage caused by the Eclipse's CI were at their battle stations, readying for contact.

"Dragons?" was the word transmitted over the ship's intercom and on to the bridge. The Officer of the Deck, Lieutenant Commander Philip Gethur, who had held his conversation on the loud speaker, quickly stopped in his tracks as did the all of the personnel on the bridge who were in hearing distance of the OOD's.

"Dragons? Ma'am?" Philip wiped the sweat on his brow that had formed from the sudden stilness on the bridge.

"Yes, take a look. They’re coming from the northwest."

Philip picked up his pair of unused binoculars from a slot on the side of his chair, walked up to the large window in front of him, and looked toward the northeast. Indeed, there were dragon-like creatures moving closer and closer.

"See?" said the captain's voice over the intercom. Many other crew members had also taken up spots near Philip's location and looked outside of the window.

"Finished!" yelled a voice from another part of the bridge. "The people on the Eclipse have managed to get their CI to relinquish its hold on our sensors. We got full array capabilities, but..." The young IT man was cut off by Philip.

"Get those things! Those dragons up on the viewing deck!" ordered the Lieutenant Commander.

"But...We don't have satellite uplink," said the IT personnel softly.

Everyone abandoned their spots and crowded around the circular depression in the center of the bridge. In the middle was a knee high circular table-like protrusion, above it the ceiling formed a dome. In less than a second, a spherical grid appeared above the protrusion and occupied almost the entire dome area in the ceiling. In the middle of the grid materialized the entire Noir 5th Expeditionary Force. The Force which was at least two dozen strong in surface vessels and not counting the two submarines that followed in the shadows of the sleek specters of the fleet. It was the advanced Phatom arrays onboard the Nagatuki that made this feat possible. The Nagatuki led the fleet while the large trimaran supercarrier, Eclipse, had fallen behind the Nagatuki and taken up a defensive position in the middle of the task force. Surely the Eclipse's CI had taken into account the beastly visitors coming from the north, thought Philip. The grid then de-materialized the 5th fleet, then in the middle of the screen materialized an image that left much of the bridge's crew amazed, with their mouths gaping open.

“Philip, that security unit, if you may,” said Captain Yui’s voice through the intercom.

---

NSS Eclipse (S.C.V.N. 10)

Back on the Eclipse, the bridge’s crew was also gathered around the ship’s viewing screen. The image seen on the Nagatuki’s Phantom arrays were transmitted over the short wave ship-to-ship network. The image here also created the same responses on the faces of the bridge crew. The same scene was repeated all throughout the entire fleet. Within a few minutes, all bridge crew personnel in the entire fleet knew about the incoming ‘dragons.’

“Sir, I believe you have to come up here and see this,” said a voice from Admiral Lee’s computer intercom.

“Really? Have you finally gotten the communications and navigations fixed?” inquired the Admiral, who had already tired from the constant reports from the bridge saying they were minutes from finishing their repairs on the CI. But what kept killing the hope from these reports was that they had come almost every fifteen minutes for the past two hours. The past two hours were spent looking through the recent e-newspaper that he had received before the communications blackout. The e-newspaper was the Second Miltia press, his hometown. Second Miltia was a Noir space colony that was last reported at the out reaches of the Sol system. The large planet like colony was ready to begin their jump to the Noir capital of Miltia, the colony’s namesake. His wife and children were on Second Miltia, and he was here stuck patrolling the oceans of Terra. The front page of the virtual newspaper was the headline announcing the 100th anniversary of the nation’s transfer from Terra to a new planet somewhere outside of the solar system. James laughed once he read this the first time. We had the abilities to travel in space; terraform and colonize other planets; and build extremely large space colonies that were capable of faster than light travel, but my fleet is stuck here dead in the water because of a communications blackout. How strangely amusing thought the admiral. He could not help but laugh every time this thought drifted in his mind whenever his OOD reported the nearing repairs of the CI. But this time the urgency in his OOD’s voice was almost startling.

“What is it?” inquired Admiral Lee for the ninth time.

“I can’t describe it, sir. You must come up here immediately.”

“Can’t you transmit it to my flexipad?” James scratched the stubble that had grown on his chin.

“No, sir. You need to see this in person,” said the OOD, placing emphasis in the last sentence.

“Sure, I’ll be up there in a minute.”

---

NSS Spearhead (A.H.S.V. 40)

The NSS Spearhead was a modified version of Noir’s old high speed theatre support vessel. The large catamaran that was originally based off of a commercial ferry almost a century ago had continued to stay in active service, though significant changes had gone into its design over the years. Within was a contingent of marines that were dispatched with the 5th Expeditionary Force to provide protection and a more realistic simulation of an actual battle-ready fleet for the Eclipse’s trial run. The 110th Marine Regiment was assigned to this task. Split up between three of the four Advanced High Speed Vessels of the battle group, the Ark, Albatross, and Liberty, each AHSV held up to 1000 men and equipment. The Spearhead, on the other hand, was designated as the medical ship, and also stationed the embedded news correspondents. One had to say it was suspicious to have this much resources put into use just for a simple trial run. But the naval representatives replied that it was all for accurate simulation purposes.

Many of news correspondents onboard were temporarily assigned to cover the maiden voyage of the NSS Eclipse. Much of the fleet’s crews were used to frequent coverage for documentary films, so their persistence was not entirely unusual. But of the temporaries were those that traveled around with 5th Expeditionary Force, which was not to exciting in this world. But once the news of the communications blackout reached the Spearhead, the entire ship was a buzz. Captain Maxwell Fillbury, who was already overburdened with the communications blackout, also had to deal with the waves of news reporters asking for comments or permission to transfer to another ship, mainly the Eclipse. All Captain Fillbury could do was to deny all requests and comments. So far, he had managed to keep the ‘dragon’ incident from leaking. But it was only a matter of time before rumors and gossip began to spread among the crew and then leaked to the media.

Karen Hart sat at her desk flipping through pages in her flexipad. She had to share her cabin with three other people, so each person took turns hooking up directly to the ship’s high speed network and connecting to the web, instead of having to rely on the slower and less secure commercial wireless systems installed on their flexipads. They would usually submit their stories and articles to be posted up on the various news networks. But now, Karen had the whole desk and the network to herself, even though the network was practically useless due to the communications blackout. She had already tried bugging Captain Fillbury to answer some questions about the black out and already filed three requests for transfer to the Eclipse that were promptly turned down. How boring this was. She and all the other correspondents were sitting on a large scoop, but the navy had managed to seal off all additional information they had their eyes set on. Karen sighed loudly as she stretched out her arms above her head to loosen her back muscles. Usually Karen was first on the scene for every event, and she had a really notable reputation in the higher ups of the navy, even though the reputation was better described to be more notorious or infamous to those that would and had become her prey. Her seemingly bad luck was about to change when her friend and fellow reporter, Kasumi Kamijyo, came barging into the cabin.

“Karen! You’ve got to hear this!”

Open Sea

The island was small, windswept, near barren save for some hardy shrubs and grasses. Near it, a chain of rocks. On it, a white, solid building, all sloping walls and broad, low windows. Swimmers, divers, an open field where a ball goes back and forth between two teams, over a net.

thandi connor: hee

hendrik ntsondo: ...got you, love

The white double-arrowhead craft, broad red double lines on its wings and simple green leopard-skull ensigns, rolls and snaps away from a similarly-marked gullwing.

thandi connor: <belly laugh (synthesized)> again

The gullwings melt into swept wings into a thin delta into a liftbody spindle as Thandi's Flitterwing body slips through cloud and up into the black on a glowing heat-haze. The challenge is thrown, ballistic reentry, fog of war in effect and Hendrik to intercept before she can launch on an imaginary transport aircraft.

Fog of war in effect, but no blocks on sharing the savage sensuality of their flying. Their tactics oppose as their agile craft slam through punishing maneuvers, and they're not riding in an interceptor's wombtank. Thandi tries a deception, bleeding off v, heading for a subsonic reentry as Hendrik assumes a hard-forward-swept wing killer mode. The spindle slips into stratosphere, Hendrik wide to the side, inverted... the shadow of a wide-body transport aircraft superimposed on reality at 25,000 feet, a shadow in glitter of sun on sea, when...

thandi connor: kalessin!

In an instant her craft turns dark grey, red stripes disappearing, green ensigns turning black, four white dragon silhouettes readily visible. She dives dives dives, knowing the dragons will smell the scent of flight and that they retain their teleport option and that her only way out is through a flight of dragons, in an unarmed aerobatic craft, summoning SAR and interceptors even as she knows her time's run out but at least she will make ace against the followers of a man she hates and sort of loves but has never met.

hendrik ntsondo: contact is not kalessini. thandi! back off!

Shouts go unheard as the seconds tick by, as Hendrik punches relayed sensor data into Thandi's mind, as he realizes her Flitterwing's in autistic mode, rejecting probes, as Thandi knows she's rushing into a lethal embrace with a dear enemy. Finally, only praying remains...

And the grey dart tears aside, screaming past the riders like a missile, clawing to keep from smashing itself into the sea.

And in a minute, two gullwing white craft move up, their front all transparent canopy a man in one and a woman in the other, wearing bright orange coveralls and helmets, lying on their backs in body-following seats.

hendrik ntsondo: whew. now, if you could please... dammit, there are any number of dragon species and these aren't a quarter of the size... gorramit!

thandi connor: ...there's something. i just knew.

The pilots wave, and point off toward a small island.

OOC: Yep, there's a reason for the events. No harm, but possibly foul. ^_^ Thandi managed to turn aside fast enough that there was just an almighty sonic boom.

Northwest (Gehenna)

Never heard of Avelona? It is one of the seven great empires of the world. How could they have not heard of it?

Somehow, Matthew, I do not believe we are in the world as we knew it any more.

Yes, Shadowreaver, I was beginning to suspect that myself.

The brief exchanged ended quickly, and focus returned to MacClaven’s eyes as they watched the man who seemed to be in charge of the watercraft. “Perhaps you have some maps that I, or more specifically, one of my wingriders, could look at? That would at least tell us where we are, since we are apparently not where we used to be.”

He frowned in confusion at his last statement. “Assuming you do not mind another intruder onto your boat, Mister Johnson.”

Southwest (Britmattia)

Thomas Clayhorn watched in surprise as the man rose in his machine, the glinting area which had contained him vanishing, which the young man had seen enough of to recognize as some type of glass, which appeared to keep the wind from being so fierce at the speed at which the machine moved, and still allowed for visibility.

Which made sense, the young Dragonrider realised as he blinked away some wind created tears. Which is when he realized the man was shouting at him. Picking out the words the first time, he made to reply, but the man continued speaking.

First in a language that sounded like a retarded, perverted version of Latin, and then in oddly accented Latin, though that was expected, considering the oddity of the man’s accent on his English. And last, but not least, the man spoke some sort of gibberish language, which prompted a confused look to venture over young Thomas’ face.

Speed Scout, did you follow that last?

No, Thomas. At a guess, he merely asked the same question in a language we do not know, considering that is what the two I understood were.

I agree. Colonel?

Go ahead and talk to him, Thomas.

Aye, sir.

He shouted back at the man in Imperial Universal, also know as English in some places, or Common, or any other multitude of terms. “Aye, I understand you. Who are you? And where are we?”

Then, as it seemed to be the order of the day, repeated himself in Latin.

South (ZMI)

The captain’s words made little sense to the Earl, but he turned dutifully to the machine that the captain of the vessel had introduced as ‘Redge’, but before he could give an appropriate greeting, it began to speak as well.

These people seem to be in an awful hurry for a ship that goes so slowly.

Indeed. Then as the screen sparkled to life, the dragon continued. They seem to possess magic of their own.

A very neat bit of conjuring, to be sure. But when the visuals came up, eight sets of eyes remained riveted to the screen, watching in dumb fascination at the sights presented by it. The moving pictures and the voice were bad enough. The content was, for the most part, meaningless to them.

Certainly, they understood ninety percent of the words, but the combinations they were used in might have well as made them a different language. When the machine finished its words, the Earl was the first to recover. Admittedly, it took him nearly half a minute of silence before he did so.

Nighthunter?

I believe, in essence, the machine has stated that this is a place where all possible history can have come to pass. The dragon spoke to all four riders, just to make sure they were following. For example, Sylvester, you could one day, here, meet yourself as a countess.

Thank you so much, Nighthunter. At least that clears that up. The three other riders were trying unsuccessfully to hide their laughter, though sobered when the Earl turned his green glare upon them.

“Thank you, Captain, that,” he dredged up the term used in the presentation, “audio-visual briefing was most illuminating, though I am not afraid to admit that I did not understand it all. But if I understood the true meaning of it correctly, we are in a place where our universe meets with other universes, with different histories?”

When this was undoubtedly confirmed, he continued with his next question. “Are we dead then? Because this does not appear to be Heaven.”

Southeast (-Noir-)

They have definitely spotted us, Laura.

I’d agree with that, the flight leader told her mount, close enough now in the growing darkness to spot the movements on the deck without her dragon’s assistance.

The larger vessel in the centre of the formation looks like it would be the easiest to land on.

We’re looking for information, Wavesheath, not a place to spend the night.

I would suggest that we spend the night if they will allow us to. It is quite late, and we have been flying for a long time. You will be tired soon, and you hate sleeping while I fly.

True. Maybe we will be able to, if they are friendly. But the nearest ship looks large enough for all four of us to land on.

Truth, Laura.

Go closer, I want to ask if we can land aboard it. Just boarding a foreign warship without warning seems a good way to start a war, and a very bad end to my day.

To all our days, Captain.

The flight of dragons swept closer and closer, then three of them flashed by over the bow, the green dragon and both weyrvns continuing on their course, as the dark blue Wavesheath dropped into a hover some fifty feet away from the plunging bow of the vessel. “Hello there! My fellows and I are lost and tired. Might we impose upon your hospitality for the night?”

Not exactly original, but it might get them on board. The truth would have worked better, Laura.

I didn’t lie.

Truth.

East (Hogsweat)

Jennermet stared unabashedly up at the man from her shorter height as he listed off things which she, as the man suspected, though she did not realise it, had no idea as to what they were. Admiral. Why is it an Admiral? I guess I had best not explain my military rank to be Flight Leader, then. Socially, at least in Avelona, an Admiral ranked anywhere from above a Baron to below a Duke, depending on the level of his Admiralty.

Glancing around her as she listened to the man’s speech, her eyes fell on the odd birdlike objects adorning the deck. ‘Nuclear’ went right over her head, but the idea of an aircraft carrier came together almost immediately at the sight of the wings which protruded from the tubelike objects. They were meant to fly, quite obviously, though they looked very heavy for flight.

Machines that flew. Aircraft. This ship was obviously carrying them. Ingenious design, with the great length allowing them to gather speed before becoming airborne. Something like this would even be useful for dragons, as it had no sails to interfere with their movements. But without sails, how did it move? It was far too large to be rowed, and she had not spotted any on approach as it was. Perhaps this ‘nuclear’ was a clue. No matter.

Battleship was another strange term, though as Skyqueen let her see through the white’s amplified vision, she could immediately understand the lethal implications of its serpentine gun forms. Even the name sounded somewhat dangerous. Nice though they were, Jennermet decided, both vessels lacked the grace and beauty of ships of line under full canvas.

Suddenly, she heard an odd squawking noise behind her, and half turned to see what it was, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught the aftermath of Skyqueen slapping one of the weyrvns away from investigating one of the aircraft strapped to the deck of the ship with its teeth. “Jackson!” she shouted at her rider. “Keep Storm Rider under control. If he cannot behave, you will fly overwatch. All night.”

“I am sorry, Admiral. Storm Rider is young still, and has just joined this flight. It will not happen again.” She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling up at the man she judged to not be much past thirty. Older man indeed, Skyqueen.

Older than you, Michelle. At twenty, Jennermet was resisting her obligation to marry soon by remaining in the military, with the argument that she was needed. Those with the gift of riding were very few in number, after all. “As to why we are here, it is at command of the Emperor George the Ninth Finborne, of the Empire of Avelona,” she gave the full information, as when Admiral Trey had given his own, she had not recognized the names, and had no reason to expect any different from him. “Our nation finds itself in unfamiliar waters, its land borders gone and replaced by the sea. My flight is one of many seeking information as to the cause of this, and to our location, and the situation in which the Empire now finds itself. Can you help us?”

Northeast (Euroslavia)

H.M.S. Arcadia? Which Majesty, I wonder? Michael ran his eyes over Captain Jameson, as if he would find the answer there, though he knew he would not. “If the crew is frightened of them, the dragons can all go aloft, if you would prefer. We do not wish to cause any trouble.” He seemed to fail to realise that an airborne dragon was actually more frightening as it cast a shadow across the deck than one curled up out of the way.

“As for the information we are seeking, the Emperor has sent us in search of it, to determine what circumstances the Empire now finds itself in, as our borders have suddenly changed, seas appear where they should not, and some of our lands and people are completely gone, and we have no idea why this has occurred, what can be done about, or indeed, where exactly we are. Any ideas or information you can provide us with would be most appreciated.” He smiled ruefully. “And a cup of hot tea would be nice as well, if you have one. It’s rather cold up there.” His eyes shifted skyward briefly.

North (Territory)

Andrew, I see a small island ahead of us, slightly to the west of our course.

Andrew closed his eyes, and whispered with his mind, Show me, Battlelord. And the dragon did, the island snapping into sharp focus before him as the dragon adjusted the position of his neck to look directly at the island. The movement upon it, too far to distinguish, was definitely human, though, given the Prince’s experience with seeing through the old dragon’s heat vision, though sun reflecting from the sand played havoc somewhat with it. Adjust course. Head for the island.

Very well, Andrew.

Yes, your Highness, came the response from his wingriders. After a moment or two more, there came a startled cry from one of the black weyrvns and shock crashed over the four humans as the image of a grey something appeared in their minds, heading directly at them at an unbelievable rate of descent.

Starburst! Andrew cried mentally to his wing, and felt, rather than saw, them peel apart like the trained aerial warriors they were. He could not see, of course, because the huge crimson dragon he rode took the command to mean wrenching its eighty-four foot length over and to perform an inverted dive towards the waves below and ahead of them. Which was, to an extent, the idea. Get out of the way as best possible. Scatter fast.

The dragons did it, and then Andrew heard a screaming sound, like the very air itself was being torn around them. And then…

The wrath of god exploded about him, and pain burst behind his eyes. In his mind, there was no other way, he heard a scream of pain, perhaps even his own as the aural assault tore through his being, clawing at his heart in shock…

He breathed in as the noise passed over them, adrenaline coursing through his body, his senses becoming hypernaturally alert as he felt the dragon come more alive beneath him than he had ever felt Battlelord in three years. Bloodrage, the dragons called it. Battle mode was what their human partners called it, as the blending of the minds of the humans and the animals grew more and more complete, until they were almost literally fused with one another, far past the point where conscious thought was needed.

They just knew…

But the only problem was, there was no target to unleash themselves upon, and the feeling passed them by as quickly as it had arisen, leaving a slight haze in the vision of the riders for a few moments, their bodies beginning to shake slightly as the natural enhancers left their systems. The dragons and weyrvns habitually returned to their original formation, the danger seemingly past.

That was when the white objects floated up in front of them, the riders in a slight daze still, until Battlelord drew the Prince Imperial’s attention once more. It has returned, but it seems friendly now.

Andrew’s confusion was evident to his mount, apparently, who showed him the shapes of the grey and the white objects together, as mere shapes of darkness, and he understood. If not exactly the same one, it was, at least, related to it.

The humans visible inside the objects proclaimed them to be machines of some sort, and while there were experiments with using machines to lift people that he knew of, only balloons had managed to get human beings off the ground without natural assistance. So, presumably, these things were of this place. Exactly as they had been sent to find.

And when the riders of the machines pointed to the island Andrew had been trying to get his flight to in the first place, he gave a small, grim smile. They seem to want us to go where we were heading anyways. So shall we go with them?

Are you asking our opinion, your Highness? came the surprised thoughts of the older woman, Megan Duracran, who rode the black weyrvn who had originally spotted the grey thing.

Of course. I do not know anything more about this situation than you all do, and I hesitate to lead us into what might be unnecessary danger.

They seem friendly enough, Highness.

Well, I think if they had wanted to hurt us, your Highness, we might already be dead.

I say we go for it. No reason for us not to. It is our mission, after all.

Very true, Vivian, it is our mission. Very well, let us go with them to the island, as we are all agreed.

The flight formed up into a diamond, dragons front and rear, weyrvns left and right, and headed at their relatively sedate cruising speed towards the island.

Some time later, a spray of sand heralded the first arrival, then the second, of the two black weyrvns, and then the two dragons hit the silicate surface together, their wings throwing up a huge cloud of the fine particles. After a moment, the four riders dismounted, a tall, stocky redheaded woman, a brunette woman, slight of frame, an athletic looking man with sandy hair, and the Prince Imperial, with his closely cropped brown hair. All were armed in the same manner, the rapier like sword and the heavy looking pistol adorning their flying leathers.

The Southern Ocean

Shaft it, I'm in trouble anyway. Alexi fished a packet of cigarettes out of his flightsuit and lit one.
"God that's good."
He folded his lanky form into a cross legged position on the almost flat acceleration couch which filled the Mako's cockpit, puffing contentedly.
"Well, to answer your questions backward, this is the Southern Ocean, roughly the middle thereof, miles and miles from anywhere. Or at least it was the last time we checked."
Alexi shrugs.
"To answer your second question, my name is Alexander Bader, Flight Lieutenant in His Majesty's Marine Corps."
He takes an other puff, then considers the cigarette in his hand, murmuring quietly. "For now, at least."
Looking back to Clayhorn he smiles and makes a vague gesture.
"Given the amount of piddling bloody dynastys infesting this world I suppose I'd better be a tad more specific. His Majesty is Owen the First, King of Britmattia. He's got a raft of other titles but none are really important right this moment."
Alexi blew a smoke ring, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"As you're a first contact I shall proceed on the assumption that you don't know anything about Nš, so it's probably best you follow me back to, or wait here for the Horatius so the professionals can debrief you."
He shrugs again.
"The Horatius is on it's way here already after all."
A final contented puff and he flicked the cigarette butt over the side of the craft into the ocean below.
"Whatever you decide. I'll answer any other questions you've got, but I really must ask, where are you from? I haven't seen dragons flown anywhere outside of the Kingdom apart from those..."
Alexi stops.
"Well, nevermind that last. But still, where do you hail from?"

“A map? Yes, we have a map.” Mark looked at Matthew and pointed over to the bridge area of the yacht, as it he expected the man to be able to see it from where they stood. “And you may bring one of your companions down.” Briefly he looked over at Kathy and gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned brightly. “I’ll go and get it ready. We’ll be inside.”

He walked over to his wife and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Perhaps you will feel better if you wait below deck until they are gone.” He spoke quietly, as they moved over towards the door to the interior of the yacht. “I can deal with these people on my own. They will be gone soon.”

Kathy looked at him and smiled. “I think I feel better knowing what they are doing.” Her eyes held a little of the fear she felt. “You saw what that beast thing can do.”

“Dragon,” he informed her.

“Whatever.” She sighed heavily, not caring what it was called. “They could cook us and sink us before we know what’s hit us.”

Mark tightened his arm around his wife, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I really don’t think they are going to do that.” He turned back to where Matthew was standing. “He really doesn’t seem that bad.”

Following her husband, she looked over her shoulder, towards the front of the boat. “No, he doesn’t…” Her eyes met Mark’s as they turned back.

They entered the bridge area of the yacht, and waited for Matthew and his companion to join them. Mark pulled the map from its place and unrolled it.

Northwest (Gehenna)

MacClavern lifted his sword from the deck and returned it to its sheath as he turned his eyes skyward. Scanning the air, his gaze settled on the white weyrvn that seemed to fade against the faint wisps of cloud overhead. Milady Lindsey, come down here. I need you to look at their maps.

Of course, milord.

The small white weyrvn arced down out of the sky, dropping towards the small craft with its wings outstretched, before slowing into a hover as MacClavern’s dragon had done, and allowing its rider to dismount. MacClavern caught the young woman as her feet hit the deck, his hands instantly dropping away once she was steady on her feet, the future Earl already taking a step back from her.

The woman was, while not tiny, comparatively short to the six foot MacClavern, and her riding leathers were surprisingly a rather bright white, which had caused her to nearly fade against her weyrvn’s neck as she had ridden, and she was still not precisely easy to see against the white hull of the craft on which they now stood. The white colour argued that she had come from a family with wealth as well, and she did, the daughter of one of the Barons who looked to MacClavern’s father.

Like most of the Avelonan nobility, her features were striking, with pale skin subtly blending with her white clothing, shockingly offset by the pleated braid of dark red falling to the middle of her back and the glimmering emeralds of her eyes. A spattering of freckles rested across her cheeks, and she appeared to be quite young, no older than her early twenties, for certain. Once balanced on the deck, she moved with the sort of arrogant grace that would cause most men to look at least twice, the shifting of her sword on her hip providing an even greater visual clue to her movements.

It was unfortunate for her fellow riders, then, that the riding leathers had to be fairly tight to the body for safety and comfort, but there again Lady Lindsey Winchester chose to emphasize her femininity with riding leathers clinging most alluringly to every shapely curve. Were it not for her father, and for her position as a Dragonrider, the whispers that followed her would have been even harsher, perhaps.

But they were not, for to become harsher, there would have needed to be any element of truth to be seized upon, and while the young woman was a horrible, dreadful tease to her male companions, there was absolutely no reason for anyone to think her less than the proper young maiden she tried so hard to make people forget she was.

Not having to duck like MacClaven as they followed the couple onto the bridge of the yacht, she smiled as she saw the maps being unrolled. They were one of her personal passions, as MacClavern well knew, and when she saw them, and the quality of them, a huge, nearly childlike grin broke across her face.

Unfortunately, modern oceanographic maps were extremely different from the ones she was used to, especially as she did not sail, and only had rare occasion to look at maps of the sea. “Where are we?” she questioned in a soft, lilting soprano, staring at the markings in fascination, adjusting herself to the strange script.

Southwest (Britmattia)

Clayhorn listened to the man’s explanation slowly, his name, and everything, slowly drifting through his head. Speed Scout, the Dragonrider could feel, was transmitting everything he heard to the other riders as well.

Tell him whatever you think best, Thomas.

Aye, sir.

“I, and my companions, are from the Empire of Avelona. It’s about two hundred miles…” Which way, Speed Scout? He pointed at his weyrvn’s direction. “That way.” He was pointing northeast.

He swallowed slightly. “We can follow you, if you want us to. But what is this Horatius? A ship of some kind?” He could not imagine a ship that would be here soon that the could not yet see down on the waves below them.

Unless it was invisible, of course. There was definitely something strange here.

(OOC: Avelona, do you have an instant messenger account? AIM/MSN/Yahoo, does not matter which one. Wish to discuss some character stuff with you. My AIM account is “aegis00010.” If you don’t have AIM, just post what kind of IM program you use and your SN.)

NSS Nagatuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

“Hello there! My fellows and I are lost and tired. Might we impose upon your hospitality for the night?”

Alexandra looked curiously at the flight of dragons and their pilots, or better said, riders. Her mouth did not drop like others who had witnessed these beasts and their riders; she had her fair share of fantasy novels and movies. Actual living breathing dragons, that was a big surprise nonetheless. The young lady’s heart was racing. Was it because of excitement, curiosity, or the sheer unexpectedness of the sight she was witnessing? Her mind was a buzz with her various thoughts about what her next action should be. Even being the top of her graduating class, and one of the youngest officers, at eighteen years old, to command a ship of this size and power, her mind had taken several long and agonizing seconds to comprehend what was just said to her; what was said to her by a woman riding on a dragon, in the middle of no where. Was this real? Am I really witnessing this? Or is this just a dream? Did I fall asleep during my break? Is this some mind trick from all the stress? Or is my mind playing games on me? I knew I should never have read that fantasy romance novel last night. Am I supposed to be the damsel in distress? But the rider of that dragon is he the knight? But the knight sounded like a woman, an attractive young woman at that, like an actress. Wait, is this some trick movie thing? I know she sounded familiar. This might probably be some stunt by those media people aboard the Spearhead. But those guys are reporters, and no one in the higher ups would allow such a thing. But those dragons look so real, and I hope that lady rider looks as attractive as she sounds. Wait. Stop. What in the world am I thinking?

Suddenly the clicks of ceramic caseless ammunition being pumped into the barrel of an assault shotgun echoed through Alexandra’s head, scattering her thoughts. The sound of pistol hammers being cocked and rifle safeties being switched to automatic brought her mind back to reality and the seriousness of the situation. A dozen men from the ship’s tactical security unit were lined up behind and around the captain in a defensive formation. Their guns all pointed toward the flight of mythical creatures and their human riders. Though these men were seasoned fighters, trained to repel boarders that would attempt to take control of the ship, skepticism had rooted themselves in their trained minds and concentration as they looked upon the dragons. Those with the G4* rifles knew at once to also take the safety off of their grenade launchers when they saw the metal armor plating on the winged beasts. Their ceramics would not work on metal, but human flesh and the unprotected eyes on the dragons were still viable targets. They gripped their weapons tightly and kept their fingers on the triggers as they watched their targets.

“Stop,” said Alexandra, her arm raised to signal the men to stand down. “Put your weapons down.”

“Captain!” said one of the more nervous of the men.

“Stand down, they don’t mean us harm. They know that they’ve been targeted, and they wouldn’t do anything to get themselves killed this easily.”

Her words were correct. From the Nagatuki’s bow section alone, there were at least 25 turrets hidden in the radar absorbent armored skin that could have disintegrated the clearly organic creatures and their riders. The majority of these turrets were used to intercept incoming anti-ship missiles and even large cannon launched projectiles. But at the same time, she was also incorrect, and her crew knew it. The CI, which controlled the ship’s defenses and offensive weapons, and at the same time connected to the Eclipse’s CI, was inoperable. Usually, the captain would have the ability to override the CI, but the technical problems that were caused by the CI malfunction on the Eclipse had rendered this ability useless until the Nagatuki’s CI could be relinquished from the Eclipse’s control.

“My name is Alexandra Yui. I am the captain and commanding officer of the NSS Nagatuki ACGN-9,” said Alexandra loudly and clearly to project her authority to the visitors. “What are your intentions here?”

They asked to rest and stay the night, thought Alexandra. But why in the world are there dragons? Dragons aren’t really, are they? And asking for a place to rest! Ridiculous! This has got to be some weird trick that is meant to fool us. They can’t simply want to stop and rest for the night. Now her analytical gears had begun running full speed in her head. Okay, we’ve confirmed that these dragons and their riders are real and in front of me, and speaking to me.

The wind had started to pick up again.

“Let’s get out of the wind, and discuss this later,” called out Alexandra. She pointed to her men behind her. “Please follow them to the helipad at the other end of the ship. I will be with you shortly.”

Quickly turning around to the soldiers standing behind her, she motioned to them to turn on their codecs to the secure channel. Each one of them pressed a finger to the back of their ear and looked back up to face their captain.

“Okay, I’m sure that the Phantom arrays picked up everything that was said right now, and I am doubly sure that by now Admiral Lee heard everything and would like to talk to me right now also. I am leaving you guys in charge of this situation right now. Make sure to keep a close eye on them, and watch for any sudden movements. It seems those dragons could take a bite out of one of us easily, armor or no armor.” Alexandra’s mouth had not moved or opened, but all twelve of the men in front of her heard what she said as if she had said it out loud. “I will go back to the bridge for a while to talk to the admiral. If they try anything, pull up the force fields and keep them in containment until I get there to the heliport.”

Alexandra turned around to face the dragon and its rider and nodded to signal her departure. Stepping to the side, she began to walk back to the bridge. But in her head she spoke loudly to her men who eyed the dragons suspiciously. “If they speak to you, say nothing. If they persist, you should tell them that they should wait for my return if they wish to discuss anything.”

A series of “yes ma’am” and “yes captain” ringed out behind her as she walked toward the hatch entrance to the ship. As the large cover of the aircraft hanger slid into place above them, completely sealing off the cold ocean wind outside.

One of the twelve armed men stepped forward and turned his optical camouflage off, which did not render the user completely invisible but projected the image of the surrounding area around the wearer onto the wearer’s armor. With the camouflage off, this revealed a figure wearing black armor ballistic plating and a helmet with visor that made him resemble a knight in black plate armor from medieval times. Although the armor seemed to have weighed an incredible amount of pounds, the wearer could move easily around in it as if he or she were simply wearing something as light as silk. Based off of early space warfare combat suits, these were more suited for earth gravity combat. The armor was strong enough to withstand zero-gravity combat, but at the claws of something as big as the dragon they stood in front of, they could be torn apart limb from limb.

“I am Lieutenant Neil Varez, please follow me to the helipad,” said the soldier who had stepped forward. He immediately turned to his right and made his way toward the stern of the ship while his fellow comrades followed but kept a close eye on the flight of dragons, weapons cocked and ready to fire.

The catamaran Nagatuki was a streamline vessel, built solely for stealth and speed, the design called for few or absolutely no protruding features. Everything was hidden in various compartments around the ship. The ships handrails could be easily concealed during times of danger. But the handrails are usually left retracted most of the times so a person walking on the deck would have to make sure that they do not stray to close to the edge. The defensive turrets and miniguns were on swiveling doors and could be revealed from several spots on the ship. The hundreds of missiles that made up the Nagatuki’s main offensive arsenal were located up on the top and the bow sections of the ship, and hidden as on a submarine. The helipad was built to be an elevator that was similar in design to those found on aircraft carriers. The helipad’s top opening could also be opened and closed with an armored sliding cover to minimize the ship’s overall radar signature and add to the streamlined effect that was seen throughout the ship.

Neil led the guests across the entire ship toward the helipad at the stern. He ordered up the handrails on the starboard side of the ship with a tap on his flexipad that was attached to his shoulder, for the wind had started to pick up and was increasing dangerously. After a few minutes traversing the deck, they reached the large flat deck of the helipad. Again, Neil touched the dimly glowing flexipad on his arm and brought up the options for the helipad. He switched on the external lights on the upper decks that made the small area as bright as day and revealing the rectangular outline of the helipad elevator and a large letter “H” in a circle of fluorescent light. Neil turned to his men and nodded. The men in turn surrounded the H and took spots at the four edges of the elevator. Neil then motioned to the flyers to land on top of the H.

“Just sit tight here, we’ll be going down in a moment,” said Neil gruffly to the dragon riders as he clicked a large rectangular button that had appeared on his flexipad’s touch screen. “Clear the hanger,” he muttered under his breath.

With a sudden jolt, the elevator began to float down into the ship. Anti-gravity machinery whirred and whined under the large elevator as it floated down into the cavernous interior of the Nagatuki. Without the need for large columns and elevator shaft to support the elevator, this enabled the aircraft hanger to be very spacious and allowed for a free flow of vehicles on and off of the elevator. Several transport and attack helicopters could be seen littered at the edges of the hanger. Some other vehicles in the hanger had no propellers or propulsion systems at all, but appeared to just float in midair. Next to some of these vehicles were signs of work that had been suddenly dropped and abandoned.

“We’ll wait here for Captain Yui to come back from the bridge.” Neil motioned to his men to take a step back away from the elevator itself and onto the hanger floor.

---

NSS Eclipse (S.C.V.N. 10)

“Captain Yui, I hope you have an explanation to what is going on over on your ship,” said Admiral Lee as he turned to face the viewing screen in front of him. He and his officers were crowded in the war room deep inside the Eclipse. In the middle of the rectangular room was a round table with a similar glowing spherical gird projector and at the other end of the room on the wall was the large viewing screen.

“Sir, I have yet to question these visitors. From what I can tell, I do not believe that have any malicious intent.” She brushed aside some hairs from her face and looked straight at the admiral. “They said they just wanted a place to stay for the night. But I what I can tell, they seem uneasy and could simply be lost. Or the fact that we are lost and we ran into them.”

“But we don’t know of any country or people to a matter of fact that riders dragons.”

“That’s true, admiral, but we never knew the existence of intelligent life on other planets, the existence of other more powerful nations until we ourselves journeyed into the far reaches of the galaxy more than a century ago.” From her screen, Alexandra saw the admiral’s head nod in agreement. She continued to further her argument. “Look how far we’ve gone, and look how far others have gone. Look how far we are behind other nations, while we are far ahead of others. Nothing is impossible. Technology is not the same for all nations, for all peoples. I believe we’ve stumbled upon something new, great, and unique.”

“Very well said, captain, very well said indeed,” said Admiral Lee with a grin on his face. Many of the other men seated around him also nodded in acknowledgement. While still others appeared skeptical. “It seems that you’ve had plenty of time to read up on current events. That was what the Prime Minister said at the memorial yesterday.”

“Actually, that was what I wrote for my uncle and sent to him a few days ago before we got into this communications blackout. He complained about having writer's block.” Alexandra could not help but beam happily at the admiral, who in turn smiled back.

“I see.”

“Admiral, before I go and question our guests, I would like to ask, how long till we get out of this blackout?”

“Hmmm…Last estimates were in a couple of minutes, but don’t trust my word on it. They’ve been telling me that for the past two and a half hours. So far they’ve managed to free several CI’s onboard other ships.”

“Understood. So I should not be expecting any communications in the morning?”

“Pessimistic thinking, yes. But I guess you might be guessing correctly. All I hope and pray for is that we’ll find out our coordinates and start our journey back to port. We can get everything fixed there. Now go find out who those visitors are and what they are doing out here in the middle of the ocean. I might pay a visit later, probably in the morning, to check up on you and the new arrivals. You are dismissed, captain.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alexandra as the connection was ended. She groaned loudly and turned to the rest of the bridge crew. “Okay, show’s over. Get back to work.”

Heading toward the door, she quickly turned around. “Oh, and someone send over some food and beverages to the hanger. Probably enough to feed…Well…Let’s say two dozen.”

The Southern Ocean

Alexi smiled amiably for a moment or too, eyes slightly glassy as he consulted his tut for maps of the area and any record of a place called Avelona. Light came back to his eyes and his smile took on a slightly smug look.
"Ah, you are a first contact then, great."
He pulled out his cigarette packet again, flipping the top open, and considered the last remaining tube of tobacco mournfully before lighting it, gesticulating with his free hand as he lit it, lighter gleaming with the old Air Force insignia.
"Well, the Horatius is technically a ship, certainly more of a ship than those damn gravbarges people run about in. I may not be a fishie, but I certainly know what ships are supposed to look like and half a mile of gold-plated pretty is not it. Hrm."
He looked keenly at the young man for a moment, considering the clothes, the rapier and the archiac (to Alexi) sidearm.
"Um. Like I said, technically a ship, but perhaps not something you'd recognise as one."
Alexi gestured with the hand holding the cigarette, pointing straight up.
"The Horatius, you see, cruises at about 20,000 feet. It's a hover-carrier."
Ignoring the blank look on Clayhorn's face, Alexi continued blithely on.
"It'll be here in about um..."
He looked down at the radar then looked back up.
"Not too long, Captain must be in a hurry to meet you all. Hrm. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you back to her, I'll keep low and slow so as not to tire your dragons.."
Alexi flicked what was left out his cigarette out to join the previous one in the ocean and sat back properly in his crash couch, replacing his helmet, keying his canopy closed, then spinning the Mako on it's axis, waggling a wing in the direction of the north-west, then gliding gently off, Alexi quietly grateful it was impossible to stall a Mako, even at speeds a tiny fraction of what it was designed for..

Satcom #22
Geosynchronous Orbit

A digital camera focused. Clicked. Analyzed. Mailed the results.

Satcom Command
500 feet subterranian.

"The hell?"
"What is it?"
"Twenty-two is reporting a new continent."
"Oh, damn. Been a long time since that happened."
"Reports 95% match with landform twelve."
"That's Europe, right?"
"Indeed... Call Special, willya? I think we might have a major magical event on our hands."

****************************

Five hours later, a hastily commandeered freighter pulled out of Khrrck's one major port and set course for the anomaly.

"Why couldn't we have flown, for god's sake?"
"Fuel problems. Too far away. All our stuff that's capable is out of range."
"So instead we spend a week on board ship?"
"Hey, it's better than walking."

Mark’s eyes lingered a little too long on the new arrival as she made her way with Matthew over to the bridge, where he stood with his wife. He stood over the map as the two strangers approached, and he greeted the woman with a smile as she spoke. “We are roughly here, give or take a few.” He pointed to a patch of open sea, which was marked with lines and chart positions. “Tartarus is here,” he moved his hand to a landmass and then pointed out several places around the area. “As you can see, there is no mention of Avelona.”

He took a step back slightly, letting the woman get a closer look at the map. “I’m not sure which direction exactly you were coming from, but assuming you flew in a straight line to this point, the nearest nation would be this one.” Once again his hand moved to another place on the map. “Between here and there, there is…was…nothing but open ocean.”

As her husband was busy with the woman and the map, Kathy moved over to where Matthew was standing and gave him a nervous yet welcoming smile. “Uh…would you and…?” She flicked her eyes towards the woman, having not been introduced and not knowing her name. “Can I get you a drink or something? Flying always makes me thirsty.” She frowned slightly. “Of course, I usually go by plane and not by dragon, being as they don’t do commercial or private dragon flights, as far as I know.”

Mindscape

Machines and organics mull, and another. There is at least one way for the unknowns to have seemed like Kalessini that doesn't involve them being some noble faction of that nation, or its pawns.

There is a handy island full of on-leave soldiers to make first contact. And the other does run on destiny, and Thandi Connor did make first contact.

senkei: you will continue first contact. you are in charge. resources are allocated. it is possible that they relate to recent fold-in of new land, data on recent fold-ins appended.

Yay. Service to the State, whatever...

thandi connor: understood. hendrik! i'm co-opting you. <mission brief>

hendrik ntsondo: yay. service to the state. whatever.

Shore

The gullwings precede the dragons to the island, landing on a short runway with something like heat-haze under their bellies. As the wings fold the cabins pop open and the pilots peel off their heavy coveralls and helmets. Two others come jogging up from where the ballgame and other relaxation is still going on.

Short, most of them. Short, compact, dark-skinned, fluidly graceful in a way not commonly expected from anything that walks on two legs. Civilian-looking dress on the newcomers, good cotton exercise clothes from the look of it, tight khaki one-pieces in the flyers. All of them armed; generally shoulder rigs with a pistol and a serious knife. The woman pilot fiddles with something on her left forearm, then walks up with the other three in tow.

The way she looks at Andrew is briefly not professional at all. Likely he gets that sort of look quite often, from people not too intimidated by his stature. The other do appear... appreciative of his appearance, and frankly admiring of the dragons, and politely interested in his companions. It's as if they're obeying some complex set of social rules, or it's all been rehearsed.

The woman (short, and like the white-clothed. dark-skinned and blonde other woman built a lot like the men, with shoulders as powerful and hips not quite as narrow but unusually so) bows to Andrew. It's a short bow, snappy, from the hip. Like the other pilot she is very dark, almost pitch black.

"Leutenant Thandi Connors, Territory Armed Forces, at your service." A brief pause in the gutturaly-accented greeting. "It seems what we have here is what we call first contact. For the Territory, I'm formally welcoming you to Grindemyr Island." She reaches out, offering a Roman-style handshake, a sheathed dagger obvious on her left forearm.

"The dragons may stay. You must understand that the entire crew of this ship is not used to seeing this sort of thing in their daily routine. They'll get used to it." as the Captain gave a good chuckle. "You haven't caused any trouble to us, so there's no worrying about that. Gave us a good scare, but that's all really."

The Captain gave a confusing look to their visitors. Their nation's borders suddenly changed, and seas are where they shouldn't be?

"I'm a little confused as to what you're asking. Some sort of 'bout of amnesia perhaps? No disrespect intended. As far as I know, the state of the world we're in hasn't gone through such changes, unless there is something I haven't heard about." as he looked over to Jennifer and Jason. They both looked just as confused too. It was as if a nation was picked up from another parallel world, and placed onto this planet without the knowledge of it happening.

"Currently, we're in international waters, though other nations are close by. Here, let me get a map for you." he began to walk into the hallway towards the cabin, but before doing so he turned back and spoke,
"Follow me. One thing that I know for sure is that we have plenty of tea." he turned back into the hallway, and walked at a slower pace, as to not rush his guests. He turned right at an intersection between the hallways and made a left, entering the last hallway before the Captains' office. He walked in, went to his desk, and pulled a map out.

"This is where we are." as he pointed to an area on the map. "Euroslavia is our home country, which is located here, as well as a few other nations close by." He also pointed at Tartarus, and their bordering nations.

Jennifer poured out a few cups of fresh, recently brewed tea, and handed them to the guests. "I hope you enjoy it. It's originally grown and packaged in Valua, Euroslavia, so this is tea specifically made by us, and for us. Us Euroslavians enjoy a strong drink every now and then."

The Captain sat down and began to speak again. "Now you say that some land and people of yours disappeared. Does this concern a war? Has your nation been attacked, and people kidnapped? I'm not sure I understand your situation well enough to help you. I apologize for that, but if you can give me some more information, I may be able to help you out."

“Are we dead then? Because this does not appear to be Heaven.”

The sea breeze and gentle swell caused the clanking of innumerable small metal objects as it gently turned. Angelo looking back watched as the Bess’s huge steam plume began to shift before replying.

“No, it’s the plain old world but its been hit by ..well imagine a curtain, somewhat frayed and covered in patches, occasional a new patch is added or an old one replaced and occasionally a new hole forms, or is mended. That curtain is a map of the world these days.”

Angelo gently adjusted an errant beeping device at his belt before continuing.

“ On one hand it makes life interesting, on the other it can make it bloody terrifying at times. Not a whole deal of difference from well before really. I find it best just not to think about it and get on with life.”

Redge couldn’t you find something simpler? Or just do it yourself?
No boss there was all manner of DOFA bureaucracy to go through, they like to handle first contacts themselves you know. This was the least I could do to keep them of our backs. Gestalt authorisation or no you know how DOFA can be.
Oh god not the white suited bafoons
There not as bad as all that boss there just a little bit bureaucratic.
A little? A little? You do remember Doctor Sorm?
Yes Angelo but you’ve been empowered by the gestalt, you can overrule them.
That ..gods Redge what the hell am I doing with that sort of authority.
Your job Angelo.


“Sir would you and your companions care to join me upon the observation deck for some light refreshments?”

Northwest (Gehenna)

The Flight Leader and future earl smiled politely at the woman who offered him a drink. “A refreshment would be most welcome. The wind in your face is rather parching while flying, and being here on the deck, in this heavy flying gear is even worse, for the sun is quite bright.”

He had finally discerned the reason for her clothing once he had further examined the vessel while waiting on Lindsey to land, and determined that her skin was quite tanner than most women of society would have permitted, though hints of paler skin beneath showed it was most definitely not her natural coloration. Not that he was noticing these things if he could help it. The woman was married, despite her shocking state of undress, and he forced himself to remember that not all people shared their customs. As it was, he continued explaining absently. “As for the commonality of dragonflights, the nobility avails themselves of the privilege when necessary and available, for it is the speediest method of transportation we have.”

He smiled, recalling her fear of the creatures, and knew that the best way to overcome a fear was to face it. “If you have never ridden a dragon before, you should definitely consider it. I would be more than happy to take you up on Shadowreaver while your husband and Lady Winchester converse about maps. She could keep him talking for hours, for she loves the things.” His gaze roamed over Kathy’s bare legs. “You would need more appropriate clothing, though. Dragon scales are not soft.”

Meanwhile, further inside the personal cruiser’s bridge, Lindsey Winchester was stripping off the heavy, padded flying jacket due to the heat, revealing a much cooler silk shirt underneath it, one that clung most fetchingly to her body in a pale green, except where darkened already with sweat. Adjusting to the script after a moment, she bit her lower lip softly as she reached for a grease pencil, recognizing its obvious use in the map making from the faint smears around the surface.

Finally, she moved from her pensive position considering the map and its scale, and angling her head down slightly, she began to draw lightly upon the map surface, until a rough outline of somewhere Mark Johnson might know as Europe appeared. Obviously, it was missing a great deal of detail, and certain other defining features. Like Scandinavia. But the idea was gotten across, and she was fairly certain she had gotten it to scale and in roughly the right place.

Straightening slowly after a long moment of drawing, she sighed, then carefully mimicking the strange script that adorned the map, wrote in the name “The Empire of Avelona” across the middle of the area she had defined in the middle of the sea. “That’s where Avelona is, I believe. Unless it has moved since I left.” She frowned poutily. “Which I suppose is possible, since we do not know how it got wherever it is now.”

Southwest (Britmattia)

The terms flew right over Clayhorn’s head as the strange man described what was apparently a flying ship.

Which was frankly, preposterous. It was one thing for his little… whatever it was, to fly, but ships…

Ships were big. They did not fly, and especially not at twice the maximum altitude of a dragon and his rider. The dragons could manage to go higher, of course, due to their lack of needing to breath for fairly long periods, but their riders would begin to run out of air at much above two miles up, especially during combat manoeuvres.

But having seen the approach of the… thing, the man was standing in, all four riders knew their dragons would be overmatched in the speed department, with their maximum sustainable, for any length of time, speed as approximately sixty miles an hour, though they had been travelling somewhat slower than that for the five or so hours they had been flying before meeting the strange man and his stranger machine.

Are we going with him, Colonel?

Yes, Thomas. We’ll go with him. Our orders are to go out and have a look about, and well, the idea of a flying ship intrigues me.

He could just be full of shit.

He could, but his machine suggests otherwise.

Very true, sir.

Tell him we’ll go with him.

Young Thomas Clayhorn shouted back to the man. “We’ll follow you as best we can.”

As the Mako started off, the four dragons fell into position behind it, then surged past it surprisingly, both forward and upward, as their full abilities had not been revealed to the pilot of the machine, and he had clearly underestimated them at first.

They hovered, waiting for him to get back in front of them, then followed once more, spread out in a chevron formation.

South (ZMI)

St. Ives blinked as the captain’s explanation made far more sense than the one the machine had provided, and he, unknowingly, echoed the captain’s conversation with Redge. You know, if they had said that first, it would have made far more sense.

Indeed it would have. But I am sure that the information provided in that briefing was important.

So am I. If only I knew what it all meant.

That is not your job, Sylvester.

And for that I thank God every day, Nighthunter.

“Of course, Captain. We have been flying for quite a while. Some refreshment would be welcome,” he replied while he continued his conversation with the dragon. You four get some rest while the rest of us eat.

That is fine. We will not be hungry for a few days yet.

Good. I have no idea how long we will be out here.

Southeast (-Noir-)

As a Captain and Flight Leader of the Avelonan Imperial Air Guards, Laura Rilken listened closely to what the young woman who claimed to the command the ship had to say, which in itself was odd.

While the Guards and the Air Guards were both non-discriminatory on the basis of gender, the Navy maintained that it was bad luck to have a woman aboard a ship of war, and captains regularly chose, when it arose, to go to sea without a mage aboard than take a female one, if it was the only option.

But here was a naval vessel with a woman claiming to be the captain, and a very young sounding woman at that. This would bear investigating at a later point, but for now, they were being offered a place to land. Observing which man to follow was rather difficult in the dark, but the dragons picked him out by his heat signature long before he appeared out of thin air, and merely watched him move along the hull towards the back of the ship.

Then, figuring out what was going on, Laura signalled the flight to land. Once inside, lights would reveal the coloration of the landing creatures to be, in their landing order, a light blue weyrvn, a crimson weyrvn, a green dragon and finally Laura’s blue Wavesheath.

The four riders dismounted easily as the creatures curiously sniffed the air about them.

This ship really is made completely of metal. Fascinating.

Made of metal? How does it float?

I have no idea. It must be heavy. But then, everything about this place is rather wondrous.

Truth, Wavesheath.

Running her eye over her three riders, Laura checked their flight gear to make sure it had nothing wrong with it from flying all day. Miles Cavershaw and Lois Dinkin were standing around, facing outward, their hands idly scratching the eye ridges of their weyrvns, while George Roberts threaded his way towards her, leaving his dragon to its own devices. Of course, Grassstalker was extremely lazy, and was already curling up to take a nap, it appeared. “Are you sure this is wise, Captain? Could we not be trusting these people too much?”

Laura shrugged at him. “We could be, but we have to start somewhere. Feel sure we would be dead by now if they had wanted it so.”

The expression on his face was unsure. “But we were mounted before. They could separate us from the dragons. It would be much easier for them to kill us that way.”

“Truth.” Laura’s eyes had already noted the preponderance of armed men nearby, her blue’s eyes picking out for her those she could not see. “But we are no longer at him, Dragonrider. We have to start by trusting someone. These people will do for now.”

They went back to examining the room, staring with interest at the craft which dotted it. George started to move towards one, his intent to touch it obvious, but a scathing look from his commanding officer brought him back in line.

Riders, we don’t know what any of these things are, or how they work, or who these people are. I suggest for now, we just do as we are told to encourage a bit of trust.

Yes, ma’am.

Aye, Captain.

Of course, my mistake.

So they waited.

Northeast (Euroslavia)

Once the ship’s Captain had seated himself, the four riders ranged themselves around the office, which, having seven people in it, was probably rather cramped feeling. Unfortunately, none of the riders felt secure enough about their new location to be willing to separate yet, so they all crowded into the room, mostly propping up the wall, though.

Leather creaked as Michael Stanton sat, his sister and Emily Procter half leaning half sitting on a flat surface near the wall that McAndrews was propping up with his boot and back, standing on one foot. Each of them accepted the tea graciously, with quiet thanks to Jennifer.

Soldiers all, following the Captain’s brief presentation with the map was easy enough, but unfortunately, he did not appear to know any more about the troubling situation than the riders. But at least he was willing to help. Stanton studied the map in silence for a moment more, then stood slowly and pointed to an area near the centre, drawing a relatively broad circle with his finger the edge about two hundred miles southwest of the ship they were now on. “This would be where Avelona is now, though we have no idea how it got there.”

He turned back and sat once more. “Now, you ask if this concerns a war, but I doubt there is a power great enough in the world… frankly, I doubt that all the mages in the world, working together, could accomplish the removal of the lands surrounding the Empire, or move the heart of the Empire itself to someplace different.” He frowned slightly. “If you could give Rider Procter a piece of parchment and quill, perhaps a rough map of what we knew would help make things clearer.”

Unthinkingly, most of their materials had been left in their saddlebags, and Procter’s bags were currently gliding three hundred feet over the ship.

North (Territory)

The Prince Imperial’s leather gauntleted hand reached out automatically and completed the handshake and he smiled warmly at the short woman. “Captain of the Air Guards Andrew Finborne, representing His Imperial Majesty George the Ninth of the Empire of Avelona.”

Your Highness?

Quiet. If they are unfriendly, I do not want to end up a hostage.

Of course not.

Make sure to call me ‘Lead’ or Captain until I say otherwise. Receiving silent affirmations from his three wingriders, he looked around at the people who had met them. “You mentioned you were part of a Territorial Armed Forces. What nation are you a territory of?” He smiled at the small island. “This seems a very small sort of place to receive so grand a title as territory.”

Six Days Later, West by Southwest, 100 Nautical Miles from the Avelonan Coast (Khrrck)

The spray of white shattered against the bow of His Imperial Majesty’s Frigate of the Line Lydia, of forty-two guns, as she cut a generally westerly heading before the wind, a full spread of canvas carrying her along at a brisk twenty three knots. The light spray was welcome to the crewmen on deck, the heat of the sun on the nearly cloudless day causing them to occasionally feel boiling, despite the captain letting them work stripped to the waist.

But then, the captain was a good sort, the crew all agreed, for a young lord. Captain of the List Lord James Mollison, second son Viscount Dracron, had been captain of the HIMS Lydia for just over six months, during which time the ship had taken two pirates as prizes off the Five Deserts coastline.

But that was not what made the crew love him. It was the care he took into making sure no more people were killed than he could avoid, both on his own ship and the enemies. And the fact that Captain Mollison had enough money from his father had led him to distribute half of his prize money to the crew had not hurt their affection for him either. They were one of the best crews in the South Fleet, which had, until recently, patrolled the Middle Sea, and now was being reorganized to meet whatever new challenges arose in this place.

Studying images provided by the sketch artists among the initial dragonrider probes, Captain Mollison considered the new flags he was going to have to learn, while leaning his chair against the bulkhead of his cabin.

It was just as he was flipping to a sketch of a huge vessel called the HMS Warrior, belonging to some nation called Hogsweat (and what an odd name that was), he heard through his open gallery windows a call from the masthead. “Deck! Ship on the horizon, three points starboard of the bow!”

Carefully setting the drawing down, James stood and stretched out as much as he could, unable to actually stand his lanky frame straight here in his cabin, and waited for the knock on his cabin door.

It was only a moment in coming, and a young midshipman walked in, his face slightly flushed from obviously hurrying. “Lieutenant Masters respects, sir. We’ve spotted an unknown vessel off the starboard bow.”

Turning a considering eye on the young man, Captain Mollison smiled. “A ship? Not a sail, Midshipman Card?”

“Aye, sir. A ship with no sails.”

“Most interesting. Tell Mister Masters I shall be on deck momentarily.” Nodding a dismissal at the young man, just barely out of boyhood, Mollison reached back down and grasped his cup of water he had been drinking out of its holder to finish it in three swallows. Then he followed the midshipman out, and proceeded up to the quarterdeck just as the third watch bell sounded.

“Captain on the deck!” came the shout from someone, Midshipman Card at Mollison’s guess, though he did not turn to find out, and Lieutenant Masters, who had the watch, turned to greet him.

“Sir, I beg to report the presence of a foreign vessel of unknown origin and configuration closing on our position from three points off the starboard bow.” He offered the captain his telescope, which Mollison raised carefully to his eye.

He found the other ship easily enough, more than a decade of experience at sea giving him that ability, and set about to study it. Remembering the drawings he had seen, sent to him by the Admiralty, he looked carefully for a flag, though the only one he could spot was unfamiliar to him. But the other drawings had revealed a propensity for turreted guns among those nations they had met, and he could see none from this distance. In fact, it reminded him most of the corporate vessel from some place called Zeppelin Manufacturers.

A freighter, then, perhaps, running against the wind, but straight towards the Empire. “Keep an eye on them, Midshipman Card,” he ordered, lowering the telescope. “From aloft. Take a telescope with you.” As the young man scampered off to follow his orders, the Captain turned back to his watch lieutenant. “Alter course to meet them.”

They did so. James Mollison predicted he had an hour until intercept. Slipping over to the side of the deck, he began to pace after returning the telescope to Masters, occasionally glancing up to see how close the other ship was getting to them.

Looking at Matthew for a moment, as if he had begun speaking some foreign language or had grown another head, Kathy remained fixed to the spot, her mind whirling slightly. She was not sure that he had actually said what she thought he had, and was carefully replaying their conversation in her head, her mouth falling open as she reached the part about flying on a dragon.

“Fly on one of those?” She looked out of the main window where the dragons could be seen periodically in view. Her gaze found the Earl’s for a moment, a look of complete horror on her face, which slowly dissolved into a questioning smile. “I could do that? I could fly on a dragon?” Suddenly her mind resorted back to those countless dinner parties she and her husband would be taking together. And what a story it would be to drop into the conversation that she had ridden a dragon.

“If you are sure they won’t mind.” She asked slowly, her smile gaining brightness as her courage grew. “I would love to ride one.” Pausing suddenly, she let out a little squeal of excitement. “After drinks though. I’ll just go and get them.” She turned and dashed into the cabin below, preparing the drinks and throwing on a pair of jeans.

Mark, on the other hand, was far too engrossed in the diagram that the young woman had drawn on his map. “That amount of land has just appeared out of nowhere?” He raised his head and looked at her, unable to hide the disbelief on his face. “That is surely going to create quite a stir when other people realise what has happened, and they’ll know quickly. There are probably alarms ringing in nations around the world.”

His gaze returned to her drawing. “But what I don’t understand, is where it came from? If you were not on the world to begin with, where the hell did you come from?” He glanced at her briefly and smiled. “Excuse my language.” He lowered his attention back to the map, tracing his finger around the outline she had drawn. “This is going to play havoc with shipping lanes and flight paths.”

"Sure. Follow me up to the bridge and I can show you where we're located on the GPS."
Yet another abbreviation that the Avelonan most likely wouldn't understand. Still, she must have taken in what he was saying, as the Baroness followed him up the clanking metal stairs while the rest of the crew went back about their business. Taking turn after turn through the metal labryinth of the aircraft carrier's superstructure, passing door after door and staircase after staircase, the Avelonan must have been in awe or in ultra-confusion. However, finally they reached the bridge. Opening the door calmly with his Command Key, Admiral Trey saluted smartly as someone made the call "Officer on deck"
Ignoring the Avelonan, the bridge operators went back on with their business as Trey stopped before a wall. Dialing a few buttons a screen appeared on the wall, red blips in size representing the fleet and small text their names.
The Avelonan, if she understood what it was, would clearly be impressed.
"Navs, zoom me out fourty times."
The Ensign followed orders, and the GPS zoomed out to reveal the ships small in comparison with the Avelonan coastline. Still, there was no Hogsweat, but Avelona was clear in view with the rest of the ocean, its outline jagged from the rough GPS view.
"Interesting. Ensign, zoom me out another fourty."
Now Avelona was looking small, and the warship blips hads to be enlargened t be seen. A great deal of other ships and submarines were being picked up.
"my god. out, another eighty times Ensign."
Now it was almost like looking down from the moon: One could see Avelona and faintly, Haven, and therefore Hogsweat, very close.
"Aha. Here, Baroness, is Avelona. Approximately...fourty thousand kilometres away is Hogsweat, our country of origin. Would you like these maps printed off for your further use?" The Admiral motioned on a piece of A3 paper incase the Avelonan misunderstood. As she answered the affirmative, the Admiral followed up by printing off ten sheets of GPS views from Avelona and it's surroundings, and also Hogsweat and Haven. He was about to show more GPS takings of the world when an Ensign rattled out
"Sir, we are requested back at home by NavCOM. It's urgent, they say"
"Very well then. Baroness, I must leave, but by all means take these satellite photographs and remember our nation. Maybe, someday we will meet again. Good luck."

"Sir!"

Thakar Greenscale, Khrrck Special Agent, holder of a bare handful of medals, and commander of a commandeered freighter, threw down his pen and slapped the intercom.

"Yes, what is it? Another blasted seagull?"

"No, it's really a ship this time, sir! I'm sure! It's got sails and cannons and ropes and flags and... and everything!"

"Blasted lookout... He's gone mad, I'm sure," muttered Thakar, as he clattered along the companionway, hooked his claws into the ladder, and ascended. "Sails? It'll be penguins next. Why does the bloody radar have to conk out right as we leave port... Oh my."

"I told you, sir!"

"Someone get me a megaphone. I'm sure those guys don't have radio."

**********************

A few minutes later, Thakar hoisted himself up onto the fake containers concealing the freighter's meager deck weapons. (Quite a suprise that discovery had been; the skipper had yammered away about pirates until he had finally been convinced that Special wasn't angry at him.)

He hoisted the megaphone to his mouth, inhaled, and yelled in his best English. Unfortunately, his best English still sounded like a snake with a speech impediment- but we can't help how we're made, can we?

"Att-t-tention! Thiss iss the Nelsson'ss Night-tmare, currrent-tly under command of Khrrck S-special! We'rre herre t-to invesst-tigate t-the continent-t which rrecently appearred in t-thiss arrea! I assume you're from t-therre! May we come alongsside?"

West*

The Vindreys were the Easternmost state of the Confederacy, and their proud citizens were the Confederacy's pre-eminent soldiers, sailors, and aeronauts ... at least in their own opinions.

In rigid adherence to their Neo-Spartanist ideology, they were certainly the most militaristic.

"But for us, the Pirate Isles would rise again," the Vindreijar would say, or, "Without us those puling Southrons would be no better than Skraelings." They said the old Viking blood was strong, that one day the capital would move North where it belonged. The Southrons might reply that they said entirely too much.

Ships out of Ydalir patrolled the seas - and the airs - of the Confederate coast night and day. One of these was the Sleipnir, a fat twelve-rotor carrying ten four-inch guns. Smoke belched from her two tall stacks, the Håkonsen-Bekker turbines driving her forward at a crisp sixty knots. Her gasbag was Roanoke silicon-silk, blazoned with the signs of the Confederacy and the Vindreys; the gold saltire on black, the white cross on green, the fist-and-wheel of Neo-Spartanism.

Sif Akarnhamr-Margray was her captain (despite her sex - Neo-Spartanism rewarded all who had the mettle to rise, and relation to Akarnhamr Hall ensured Sif had risen far). At present she was relaxing in the Sleipnir's cramped hall, tracking the progress of the young man who had surely been sent to call short her reprieve. Crew parted indignantly before him.

"Sir!"

He saluted, fist to heart in the Neo-Spartanist style, painfully eager. His uniform jacket was draped over his other arm; he'd made the barest minimum sacrifice to Hall propriety. Sif suspected a Southron education.

"Sir, th' Commander sends his regards - he's wanting you up on the flight deck."

"Very well, then. You may tell Alvinsson I'll be up shortly."

"Sir - he said 'tis urgent!"

"Yes, yes! Be off with you."

Grumbling, Sif rebuttoned her shirt, and headed forward to the flight deck.

Commander Alvinsson was a keen man, rising high despite lacking a Hall to speak of, a good Neo-Spartanist and a good Christian. He saluted her as she arrived on deck.

"Sir! Signals has spotted several unknowns off East. We're rising above these clouds now to spot them again."

"There shouldn't be anything in this area," Sif pointed out, "Unless those fool Navy aeronauts are in the air without telling us again. Condition three!"

Condition three was the lowest of the actual "trouble" stations; two was normal patrol, and one only applied with the boilers cold and the airship at a mooring mast.

At Alvinsson's command the ballast water was pumped to stern, pulling the rear down and the bow up, and driving the airship higher. Soon enough the wispy clouds thinned out, leaving bright white streaks behind and the sun-touched sea far below.

"There!"

The bogies were below them now, four of them; some kind of monoplane? Sif struggled to see, and an underling passed her a telescope. The things came into focus. The telescope veered as Sif moved one hand to trace a sketchy cross.

Dragons? Are these some Frankenstein-beasts out of Kassony?

"Descend," she ordered. "The Ting will want to know about this."

Her crew saluted, and the deck sloped downwards as ballast was pumped towards the bows. Sleipnir descended upon the dragons, less the steed of an ancient god and more a great grey whale of the skies; and Sif's blood sang with the thrill of the chase.

*Looking through your thread I'm pretty sure west is not taken, so if it's OK, I'll occupy that slot. Technilogically, Steelhaven is home to nigh every mad idea I can cram into steampunk.

There's a slight flinch and a careful answering smile, close-lipped curve of full lips. She relases his arms and points to her mouth.

"Sorry about that, Captain. Should have told you. Call it a local custom, not showing teeth. Where to begin... you're right, Grindemyr isn't a territory. We're Territorials, from the Republic of the Territory. Except Territorial also means, ah, someone like me, that is..." She snorts and flashes the khaki-clad man beside her a look. Deep breath. Relax, gesture more rather than stand at attention, or rather formal relaxed stance...

"Now, the reason for the country's name is that it was formed from a territory granted to a mercenary corporation, to rebuild it after a civil war, in Rhodesia if that name rings a bell. Southern Africa. The name stuck. Small country by most standards, just over thirty million people, part of the Territory Co-Prosperity Sphere which is..." Beat. Back to the alert-looking slight crouch.

"Captain Finborne, could I invite you and your people over for dinner, and you can confuse me just as much as I'm likely confusing you? We'll figure out any dietary preferences for you humans, but choices for your... dragon? troops will be limited until we can get supply on it. Fish, whale, some meat."

NSS Nagazuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

Alexandra quickly wiped off the sweat that had accumulated on her face and neck from her jog from the bridge to her room. The captain’s quarter was a relatively large room, akin to a high class hotel suite. The room was accented by the typical dark honey oak paneling and various naval ornaments that came standard in officers’ quarters on board Noir’s ships of the line. But Alexandra’s quarters did have some minor tweaks that made it unique. Her customization consisted up of bringing the majority of her stuffed teddy bear collection, which she had encased in a polished wood and glass cabinet and labeled as “trophies and antiques” in order to get through a naval loophole. Next she replaced the standard “old-style” maple study table with a more modern wooden study table with a stainless steel accented desk. Finally, her room’s crowning glory, Alexandra would say, was her kotatsu that she would quickly pull out when she was with her friends and informal gatherings and hide it as quickly when business was in order. At the moment, her room was a mess, littered with antique books and scattered data-sticks that contained scans of even more books. She had spent most of her time reading, knowing that the Eclipse’s trial run had simply consisted up of relinquishing her command over to the supercarrier’s CI.

Alexandra stared at herself in the mirror for a moment then turned around and picked up her coat before she walked out of the door. Locking the door behind her, she began her sprint to the hanger bay at the end of the ship. What in the world am I supposed to say to these new comers?

---

“Lieutenant,” said one of the soldiers through his codec, “how long are we going to watch over these guys?”

“I don’t know, Jack. But all I know is that we do what we’re told,” snapped Neil. “Now just stand there and shut up. I know it’s babysitting, but we sure as hell have to keep an eye on those dragons.”

“Dragons, eh?” said another man loudly, his voice echoing through the other men’s codecs. “If we were told to take the regular ammunition, then we wouldn’t have to worry much.”

“You too, Wes, shut up and just wait. The captain’ll be here in a few min.”

“But those things are still giving me the creeps…” muttered one soldier who was standing next to the crimson weyrn. “This red one seems like it’s ready to bite someone’s head off.”

The men shifted a little in their armor. Their guns ready to be shouldered and fired at a moments notice. But they could do little but continue staring at the completely out of place sight in front of them, a sight that could only be seen in books or movies.

In the distance, the digital beep, a swooshing sound and the metallic click of a sliding door echoed through the cavernous hanger. As the echoing sounds of footsteps approached the hanger elevator, several of the soldiers quickly peaked over their shoulder while keeping the dragons and their riders in their peripheral vision. It was Captain Yui.

---

Alexandra walked briskly towards the odd looking group in the center of the hanger. She had re-donned her long trench coat, but had quickly changed into more formal naval attire to reintroduce herself to her guests. Her formalwear consisted up of a skirt and top created out of a dark grey synthetic fiber material, and a matching hat, not much difference between what she had been wearing earlier except for the color and the fabric used. Alexandra’s steps slowed as she drew closer. Her thoughts had begun to run circles again in her head, mixing up what she wanted to say and what she had to say. Identification was the obvious, but from there her mind switched back and forth from formal to informal conversation. How should these people be treated? What is their purpose? Do they have a ranking system that should be noted? Are they friendly? Are they a threat? Is this some trick? Is this a dream? What culture are they from? How did they get here? Should I ask them to put down their weapons? Do they have weapons? Who is their leader? What nation did they come from? Who exactly are these people?

By the time she had finished asking herself that last thought, she had already stopped right outside the perimeter her men had set up for her. Looking around at several of the soldiers, she could tell some were antsy and were squirming in their boots. Brushing her hair from her face and pulling it back up above her ear, with her fingers she pressed an area behind her ear to switch on her codec.

“Is everything in order?” she asked as her eyes continued to scan her men and the dragons and their riders, some of whom had already dismounted. “There hasn’t been any trouble I see.”

“Yes, ma’am. They’ve been behaving,” answered Lieutenant Varez. “As you can see, some of them had dismounted from their dragons and have been looking around the place. It appears there is nothing familiar to them.”

“I see.”

“Ma’am if I may be so bold to ask,” said Jack in a type of meek childlike voice that was completely out of character for him. “Where in some backwater nation are these people from?”

“I don’t know soldier,” said Alexandra calmly. “But we’ll know soon enough.”

Alexandra looked around again at her men; several had turned their heads once Jack had started talking. Turning her codec off, she spoke loudly so that everyone could hear her. “Soldiers, please exit the hanger. I wish to speak to our visitors alone.”

Everyone else who was not looking at Alexandra before had suddenly jerked their heads towards the captain and was eyeing her curiously and shocked. Some had their mouths open to demand why, but no one was able to gather enough courage to speak up against a direct order. But slowly, one of the soldiers was able to speak out.

“But captain!” he managed to exclaim, even though it was only two words.

“I said leave us. I’ll take care of everything,” said Alexandra soothingly. “And you’ll know if there’s trouble.”

Slowly the twelve men of the ship’s security unit filed out of the hanger, leaving the young captain and a group of dragons and their riders inside. At the same time, Alexandra moved closer towards the rider of the darker blue dragon, who had spoken to her earlier outside of the ship.

“I am sorry about the delay.” Alexandra said calmly. “I would like to reintroduce my self properly. I am Captain Alexandra Yui of the NSS Nagatuki, an advanced guided missile cruiser of the Noir Navy. May I ask who you and your riders, and what are your intentions?”

OOC: The uniform looks like this. (http://www.mirageknights.org/verythrax/bs6/gallery/murata/1_03.jpg). This is just an example of the dress uniform. Also, Alexandra Yui has long hair.
Image taken from http://www.mirageknights.org/verythrax/bs6/index.htm

They came from the sky, like streaks of meteors across the inky blackness.

CX-8-V33A1, Tiburon Earth Space Colonies, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

In the control room of GlobalOmniMegaCorp, a civilian technology manufacturer, two bored controllers were working the night shift- James Nately and Matt Avalar.

"Hm? What's this?"

"Got something, Nately?"

"It appears that the GPS scanners are picking up something. It's nothing quite like anything they've seen before."

"What the hell? Give me that."

"See, Patel? They've picked up an entire continent that hasn't been charted before."

"What the the hell do you mean, Nately? How could we not have charted something before? Everyone knows what the Earth looks like!"

"Really? Is there a Europe down by the Malkias Ocean?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Well, there is now."

Patel looked in stunned amazement. Right there, there was a new landform in Malkias. Shaped exactly like Europe, too.

"It's too far away for us to get to by boat. We'll have to set a few cruisers from outer space."

"Yeah. And tell the Aerospace and Navy, too. And while you're at it, every paper in the nation. This is big like hell.

The Southern Ocean

Alexi drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the throttle as his Mako hummed back to the Horatius, watching the radar ping down the distance to the blob which represented the 62,000 tonne carrier that was his goal.
An interrogative tone sounded in his helmet's earphones, and he opened the com , wincing as the face in it resolved into his commander's scowling one.
"Ah, sir. The ah...contacts, are on their way back with me now. We uh, we're making good time..."
An irritated snort came from the com. "Bader, the fact that they are still alive is of mild amazement, given that you went to meet them."
Alexi looked affronted, which drew a rasping laugh from the com, "Over-sensitive Alexi? Just be glad there's no head-shrinkers around to quibble over the cultural damage inflicted by you smoking in front of people on dragonback.
Alexi rallied briefly, "I did think you would be more of a problem in that sense sir."
"Nonsense. I'm coming out to greet you, there'll be no confusion about who is what that way." The commander's face split in a grin, exhibiting very impressive teeth.
Alexi swallowed. "Oh Mithras."

---

A little bit more travelling, and there she was, nosing down out of the clouds.
His Majesty's Ship Horatius, named for a decades dead Duke of Edinburgh.
The enormous carrier's blunt nose, fronted with the dull gleam of the observation bridge, pushed through the grey ribbons of cloud like a titanic seal breaching from Arctic ice, sliding clear of the hanging streamers of mist as it levelled out and glid sedately, nose still slightly down, towards the on-coming dragons and fighter.
As the formation and carrier closed on each other, Alexi's wingmen dropped out of the overhead escort pattern they'd been in, shooting off towards the Horatius to land and get out of the way before the slower creatures arrived.
Distance narrows and the dragons and their riders can make out humanoids scrambling around on the vast flat space of the ship's deck, the massive gun turrets aimed politely down and to aft.
Distance narrows yet more, and most of the people on the deck absent themselves, but for one standing by itself, and a blue-armoured group flanking him, oddly fair back, almost a third of the deck between them. As the distance falls away yet more it's easy to tell that the heights and sizes of the armoured group are wildly disparate, and that not all are actually armoured, with perhaps one in five being a hulking...machine?
Strange as these are, it is the man standing forward from them who holds the eye, easily seven feet tall, and sharp in Marine Dress Khakis.
The strange little formation glides further in to land, Alexi peeling away from the formation, leaving them to the group on the deck.
The tall man swaggers forward, an almost predatory, over-toothy grin on his face.
"I'm Colonel K'Harkan, the commander of the Horatius." comes his rasped greeting.
He moves oddly and suddenly isn't there, rippling into a massive red dragon, easily twice the size again of the Avelonian ones. The grin stays, but this time the voice is a rumble, not a rasp.
"Be thou welcome to my command, and in my King's name I greet thee."

“Of course, Captain. We have been flying for quite a while. Some refreshment would be welcome,”

Possible allergies Redge?
The “companion” known as Amanda Daniels may have an adverse reaction to Manduba nut extract, but as I don’t think she will be joining Ensign Johan in is morning “Andies Sugary Crunch N Nut” I don’t see it as a problem.
“Alchahol?”
“Multiple minute residues of a dozen different conventional Terran brews in all there systems but as far as I can tell nothing in the last day or so”

Angelo hastily led the way to the port lift access, a somewhat grimy heavy blast steel door wound back to reveal the shiny interior of a lift. The small mirrored walls of the lift in were uncomfortably close with four people and the Muzak as always made his teeth grit. The Gorvin Elevator company had in fact tried to rid elevators of Muzak on no less than nine occasions but some insipid line in ancient line of manufacture core coding and legal concerns about the “audio warning” system being integrated into the same area of the hideously expensive to design optic processing node had kept the truly wretched music and sound reproduction devices in active service. The net result of this was that well over 90% of Gorvin Elevators are within the first month of installation the victims of a swift speakerotomey usually with a screwdriver and a wholly unhealthy rapid stabbing motion. This elevator so rarely used by the crew still had the speaker intact. Angelo made a note to remedy this as the doors swished open with a faint “ping” being barely audible over the wretched tones of a somewhat mutilated Fur Elise.

The vast and usually quite empty observation deck was like much of the Bess designed in a modular fashion, in that it clashed terribly with the rest of the ships super structures aesthetic. If the bess had an aesthetic. Most people would have just called the ungainly cornubation that made up her super structure a godawfull mess. The enclosed space was a far cry from Angelo’s trusty worn and somewhat stuffy command centre and was used to entertain executives on visits to the Bess and act as an oversized rec room vaguely dotted with ping pong tables. It was also there to fulfil some rather dated legal and safety regulations over human eye ball mark one navigation of the ship with a panel with some very old fashioned joy sticks and a solid state screen set in a dais in the centre of the space. Huge delicately curving synth alloy support sections jacketed in white plastic arched upwards while the walls and roof were made of what appeared to be nothing more than glass it was not infact glass instead it was an extremely strong transparent synth alloy derivative. The usual book and ping pong equipment strewn room was now conspicuously to Angelos eyes no longer in place, infact to Angelos growing disturbance the room was no longer its spartan and somewhat striking self.

Redge had been busy, the ping pong tables were as the group entered being draped with what appeared to be spotless white linen by a utility drone, while another drone laid out the ships good china and silver with meticulous mechanical precision, its tiny disc body extending multiple arms and in an almost eye watering blur laying out a setting before it extracted a plate from its underslung storage compartment. The entire mechanical ballet was somewhat hypnotic as just as they approached the nearest table a neat line of five white galley transport drones wheeled to a stop with a sound remarkably like that of a squeaky caster on an overused armchair.

Redges voice then came out of the nearest utility drones speaker with a slightly pompous overtone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen your requests please the Bess may not having much but I assure you I can suit her stocks to the most delicate pallet and virtually any request”

Redge . ..wait don’t tell me a DOFA protocol?
First impressions Angelo. First impressions.
*sigh*
Oh and get my gear ready.
Your “gear” ?
You know what I mean Redge if I’m in Int-Sec again I want to smeckin look it.
I can't find it on the system Angelo.
Its in locker under my bed. On the system indeed you know damn well thats against regs, what you think im going soft in the head in my old age?
No Angelo not at all

Northwest (Gehenna)

MacClavern leaned slowly against the bridge bulkhead that separated the small room from the outside, and turned his gaze on Lady Winchester. Damn, Father will have my balls for breakfast if he finds out I left Lady Lindsey here on her own with a strange man.

Rightly so, Matthew.

Thanks, Shadowreaper. Avery, once I take off, you two come down, if it is okay, and get some water. Nat, you land whatever happens and keep an eye on Lady Winchester.

She could take that guy apart barehanded, Captain.

I know that. Humour me, for propriety’s sake.

Lindsey Winchester would no doubt have objected had she heard the conversation between the other riders in the flight, but she was busy, and the dragons chose to shield it from her in addition to her distraction, something that made sure she would not overhear.

“I am sure that Avelona’s appearance will cause consternation among the peoples of this realm, much as our sudden relocation has caused such for us. Shipping lanes, though, you say? I wonder what happened to any ships that were in the area that you say was open ocean before this incident.” The young redhead shrugged. “I have no idea where Avelona came from relative to this place.”

West (Steelhaven)

Two dragons and two weyrvns, in a diamond formation, were cutting across the sky at about half mile above the glimmering blue of the ocean. Led by a large red dragon and trailed by a blue, a red and green weyrvn completed the left and right corners of the formation.

Mostly they would glide on the thermals coming off the heated waves beneath them, occasionally flapping their broad wings to bring back a bit of speed or altitude.

Herbert, there is something approaching us from behind and from a greater altitude.

Colonel of the Air Guards Earl Dunston twisted around in his flight harness to try and spot the object his red was talking about. After a moment, he did. What is that, Flameborne?

I know not, but were we not sent to find what things were in this place?

True, we were.

This would seem to be one of those things.

True. Flight, let us go see what it is.

As one, the flight of mythical beasts curved up and to their left, staying locked in formation as they came about to approach the odd thing that soared through the skies. As they drew closer, Flameborne spoke again. I believe it is some type of balloon, and that the rimless wheels let them control to whence it moves.

Very well, go closer. If it proves unfriendly, flame the fabric part that holds it up and get us out of here.

The four creatures and their riders swept closer in.

Southwest (Britmattia)

Impressed by the sight of the floating thing, the four dragon riders were silent as they swept in to land, in reverse order of seniority, which meant that Clayhorn got the honour of landing first on the broad deck obviously created for that purpose.

Once they were all down, and assembled, Colonel Dantoña led them forward to greet the tall, uniformed man, and he was about to respond when the man… changed. The change produced an instant reaction from everyone there, the trained reaction of soldiers who were quite experienced in their field.

Four utterly useless pistols cleared their holsters and were levelled in motions almost too fast for the human eye to track, and the four beasts they had arrived on instantly snapped to a more alert state, the serpentine hisses echoing across the deck as the weyrvns reared up on the legs in challenge, and the air shattering roar of the full dragons as the dark depths of all four beasts’ eyes blazed with an angry, bloody crimson.

“Fallaces sunt rerum species,” Enrique muttered at the sight of the huge beast before them, though the reactions of his fellows were even more entertaining. “God save us,” echoed from Clayhorn’s lips, while the rider of the other dragon began to mutter a Latin prayer. “ Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio; contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperat illi Deus; supplices deprecamur: tuque, Princeps militiae coelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute in infernum detrude.”

The last member of the group, the older weyrvn rider, gave perhaps the most helpful exclamation. “Demon!”

South (ZMI)

The room is nicely adorned, but nothing the Earl is unused to. He is, after all, an Earl of the Realm, and as such, rather nicely off. Of course, he is in the upper third of the Earls of Avelona for his personal wealth, which rather tops it off.

The servants being machines is an interesting affection that the Earl takes an instant liking to. After all, would one need to pay machines? But then, maintaining the machines probably required a skilled labourer, who would probably want more money than a simple menial. Nor was he entirely certain about the idea of machines preparing his food for him. He decided he would ask in a minute.

“Water, I think, all around, and perhaps some light hors d’oeuvres.” He waited a beat, and looked at his wingriders questioningly.

“I’ll have some fruit juice, if there is some,” Kincade asked quietly.

Southeast (-Noir-)

As the grey-clad woman approached, eight sets of Avelonan eyes slowly came to rest on her, and Captain Rilken’s eyes narrowed slightly. The woman was very young, and dressed oddly for someone in the military. Skirts were for formal events, and for civilians. No one would where something above the knee, even still, not even the night-ladies who frequented areas near military bases. It was very nearly obscene.

Laura Rilken liked it. She knew she should not, but she did. It looked comfortable and easy to move in, though it probably would be obscene if she attempted to wear something like it while riding. The shadows outside had disguised her, but the flight leader was fairly certain this was the same woman they had met near the front of the vessel, as this was confirmed after a moment when she approached them and spoke.

During her approach, Rilken had summoned the other members of her flight to her side, and they stood just behind her, hands that had been hovering near blades and pistols finally relaxed with the obvious menace of the soldiers gone.

“I am Captain of the Avelonan Imperial Air Guards Laura Rilken, and my wing riders, Lois Dinkin, Miles Cavershaw, and George Roberts.” Each of the other three nodded their head at the mention of their name. “We are from Avelona, which is, for some reason, approximately three hundred miles to the northwest of us right now, and as far as we know, the area where these ships are should be a vast desert. My flight is one of many sent to find out why this and other changes are no longer the case, and to find out about this place where we find ourselves.”

East (Hogsweat)

Indeed, the odd acronym flew right by the young Baroness, but she moved after Trey anyways. David Jackson, the weyrvn rider whom she had shouted at moments before, moved after both of them, following a couple of steps behind his commander.

The huge display was undoubtedly less impressive than the Hogsweatian admiral thought it would be, as Jennermet had seen its like before during the last skirmish with the Moscovites two years before. One of the battle mages had used a scrying basin to display an over head view of the battle area to explain where the dragon wings were to attack, as well as displaying the positioning of all their forces. Further, she knew that ships of the Imperial Navy imploded scrying basins permanently spelled that way to give them some idea of what was around them.

The ability to zoom out was, on the other hand, quite impressive, and prompted a small gasp of surprise from Jackson, though the Avelonan noble stood silently, not allowing her surprise to show, as her childhood training demanded. The printed versions were even more impressive.

Something physical to hold onto, with which they could convey their story, and explain what they had found, would make it far easier upon the flight’s return to home.

Which was apparently coming sooner than Jennermet thought it had been, as the Admiral’s abrupt dismissal percolated through her brain. The dragons were far faster than the vessels, if their approach had been any indication, and so the curtness of the sharp goodbye could easily have been at least polite. As the young baroness and her wing rider stepped back out onto the flight deck, she collected the other two members of her flight up by eye. “Mount up. We’re leaving.”

It was a testament to the discipline of the Avelonans that there was no questioning of the orders, despite the question in the two flight members’ eyes that said they desperately wished to know what was going on.

Focusing on Skyqueen, though, Jennermet pushed that away as she gracefully bounced off the white dragon’s proffered foreleg and swung up to settle at the base of her neck. Fastening the harness, she raised her hand out flat in front of her, then curled her fingers into a fist, then dropped her elbow, pulling her hand into her shoulder as the signal to take flight.

Instantly, the two weyrvns were airborne, their powerful legs and smaller size getting them into a position to make the first downsweep of their wings sooner than their larger cousins. The dragons were only a tiny bit behind the others, and soon, they were all soaring a few hundred feet in the air.

We are going to sweep forward slowly over the fleet, then circle back, so that Samantha can sketch the aircraft carrier and the battleship. All the dragons are to remember as much detail about the ships as they can, so Samantha can improve her sketches later. Then we will loop north for about an hour before heading for home. Got that?

All the responses came back in the affirmative, and that was what occurred.

North (Territory)

Andrew listened carefully as the woman seemed to ramble on, apparently not well trained at covering her nervousness, one of the many emotions the Prince Imperial had been trained to hide since very nearly his birth. As such, he still barely covered his reaction when she said they were from Southern Africa. No wonder Sean had needed more troops in the Five Deserts, if the bandits and barbarians were equipped with these things.

He forced the thought away. This was a different world, and while the woman seemed to either be claiming mercenary status or, at least, heritage (which would be very odd in itself), it seemed to be extraordinarily unlikely that she was in any way responsible for the problems that Sean had been experiencing.

Especially as she was here and Sean was not. As for the custom of the smile, he wondered if it was similar to dragons smiling with their eyes, and not their mouths, and reasoned that it must be, as that was the only reason for such a custom. If you smile, riders, try to keep your lips shut. No point in offending these people.

“We would be delighted to join you for dinner, Lieutenant.” He did not manage, or even try, to inflect it in the same manner she had. “Though the dragons will not need anything for a few days.”

I would not mind a swim, Andrew.

Oh, go on, you silly beast. But all four of you pay attention if we need you.

We will.

“They’re going swimming,” he said by way of explanation as the four ambled off down the beach towards the water. “Swimming, sun, and sustenance every three days keep a dragon happy.”

West By Southwest (Khrrck)

The other vessel had been moving faster than Captain Mollison had originally believed, as the Lydia drew near some forty minutes later, and when the hail from the other vessel arrived, despite the odd accent, Mollison was able to understand it. Or at least the general idea of it.

He raised his own hailing horn. “This is the Avelonan Imperial Frigate Lydia, under the command of Captain Lord James Mollison. We will come about and match course with you.” He lowered the horn and turned to Masters. “Send to quarters, and do not run out the guns.”

The order would cause no visible change aboard the small Avelonan warship, and unlike the order to ‘beat to quarters’, there was be no audible signal to give away that the ship was preparing for battle, and not running out the guns would only reinforce that illusion.

It took about twenty minutes for the frigate to sweep around the odd freighter with the even odder name, and tack back to run along side it, escorting it towards home.

<<OOC: Neo-Tiburon, I’m not sure what exactly you want me to respond to. Perhaps you meant to land some space ships or something, but until you do, and identify where approximately they are landing, I’m afraid I can’t do much. Just give the Real World location in Europe. I’ll fill in the Avelonan name.>>

The Captain looked around for a piece of paper in his office. Luckily, in his desk, he had a few pieces of paper left. In his spare time, he had been putting together a collection of short stories that he had hoped to get published once he retired. This would certainly guarantee that he would have more than enough money, once he decided to retire from the Navy.

He handed the paper and a pen to Rider Procter, and had hoped that some sort of logical explanation could come out of this, though, that wasn't likely, especially after everything that had happened and had been explained up to this point. There really wasn't a logical explanation for this. At this point, Jason and Jennifer were convinced that either these guests were a group of people lost in time, perhaps from an uncharted island or one that was thought to be uninhabited. The Captain thought differently though...he did believe that some sort of supernatural action had occurred, and they were going to do their best to figure something out.

Mark looked up from the map, his eyes finding Lady Winchester’s, a look of horror in his gaze. “I hadn’t even thought about that.” His voice was devoid of a lot of emotion, as his mind filled with images of ships buried under the ground that had suddenly appeared, but then if the land had materialised out of thin air perhaps… “I hope for the sake of anyone in the area that they have been transported to wherever you came from, not that the discovery will make them feel overly delighted, I guess it’s better than being dead.” He suddenly felt grateful that they were where they were in the ocean.

He turned his attention back to the map. “Of course, this could cause you Avelonans or whatever you call yourself, a heap of trouble when people start looking for their missing.” He looked up at her and smiled sadly. “Not that it’s your fault, of course, no one can move nations on a whim.” He paused for a moment, wondering if in fact they could.

Just then Kathy reappeared carrying a tray of drinks, a mixture of soda, tea and coffee. “I didn’t know what you all wanted.” She moved over to a flat surface and put the selection down. Her body was now slightly better covered, at least below her waist, her top half still only had her bikini top and a thin gauze like shirt, which did nothing to cover her body. “I’ve brought some biscuits and things.” Her eyes found Matthew’s. “Are you allowed biscuits? We have other things if you would prefer.”

Avelona? Avelonan Imperial Air Guards? A nation three hundreds northwest from where we are? Rilken’s words ran circles in Alexandra’s head. I’ve never heard of any nation or people of that name. But three hundreds miles northwest, that just makes everything more complicated. Considering we were somewhere in international waters of the North Pacific, that should put their country’s location somewhere in the Eurasian continent. But there aren’t any deserts northwest of here? In fact, we should have been right in the middle of the ocean no where near land for several hundreds miles, far more than this lady’s three hundred miles. Did we wander off course so much that it placed our fleet some three hundred miles closer to the nearest landmass? But didn’t she say that this place should have been desert? It’s all interesting and all, but I still do not recall any nation bearing the name Avelona. Yet, the name, the word itself, sounds familiar. It has a certain ring to it that I’ve heard somewhere in my books. Just this one word is escaping me. It’s right on the tip of my tongue. What was it? It had something to do about kings and queens, knights, damsels in distress, dragons, and castles.

“Avalon?” had escaped from her lips in a small whisper, but clearly enough that it was possible that the people in front of her could have heard her. It had only been a few seconds since this Captain Rilken had spoken, but from all that analysis going on in her head it felt that several long minutes had passed. Alexandra exhaled and took a deep breath, preparing herself for her interrogating. She exhaled, quickly changing the topic of her thoughts. Interrogating? That has such a negative connotation to it. Well, what other ways can I put it? Stop, what am I thinking again? Too much analysis!

Alexandra looked hesitantly at the four people in front of her and inhaled a breath. They looked straight at her as if observing her every movement and action, from when she shifted her weight, when she blinked, to the twitch of her brow. They’re precise, and are beginning to grow impatient. A shiver ran up her spine. She was definitely used to standing in front of people and talking, actually she was very comfortable giving speeches, but this situation was a completely different story. It was as if she were standing in front of those small children during a humanitarian aid mission to some low-tech and impoverished nation. Their small piercing eyes examined her, her personnel and her contingent of advanced medical and supply transports as they were handing out survival kits. Looking straight into the eyes of this Rilken person, she exhaled. Better not keep them hanging, even though two minutes had barely elapsed since Rilken had last spoken.

“I see. You’re situation is a very curious one,” Alexandra paused and ran over the formalities in her head. “Captain Rilken. From what you have said, I must confess that we are also having some difficulties finding our location. Off the top of my head I can safely say there is no possible way for you to have traveled all the way out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, at least two thousand nautical miles from our port of departure. But I may still be wrong. For at least thirty-six hours, our fleet, the Noir Fifth Expeditionary Fleet, has lost all navigation capabilities and are currently lost. Starting some time in that thirty-six hour timeframe the Eclipse’s CI had begun maneuvering the entire fleet supposedly all across the Pacific. Also for the past nights, save this night, the night sky had been shrouded by a relatively thick cloud layer that hindered any attempt to check our location via the stars.”

As Alexandra searched into Captain Rilken’s eyes, she could sense emotions of doubt, distress, and confusion in her counterpart’s eyes. But these feelings were carefully and heavily hidden behind the medieval and fantasy-like aura of this Rilken woman. Rilken stood straight and had a demeanor and air of authority or better said royalty, despite her rough antiquated military dress. She was just like one of those characters in those fantasy novels that told about knights who battled dragons and other mythical beasts, but she seemed to take the role that of the knight. By now the initial shock had worn off after Alexandra had observed every detail she could from just Rilken’s external features. Surely, Rilken and her companions had also been observing her all this time and had similar curious feelings.

“I suggest we leave the hanger and continue this question-and-answer discussion in a more hospitable place. And I am sure that after three hundred miles of riding…” Alexandra hesitated as she looked past the four strangers and at the dragons behind them “on your dragons, you all must be somewhat hungry. We can discuss business further inside, if you will all follow me.”

---

Slowly, the small group made their way through the various corridors inside the ship. The walls of the ship were a dull metal grey and had no excess protruding features, save for the railings and handholds, an occasional bulkhead door, red emergency flashers, grated engineering crawl spaces, or emergency stations. Even though there were no visible light fixtures on the ceilings, the corridor walls seemed to be emitting a constant fluorescent light, a large difference to the dimmed and shadowed hanger. Also compared to the hanger, which had a constant drone from the ship’s engines and power plant, the composite corridor bulkheads kept out the unnecessary noise that resulted in a deafening silence. This had also accentuated the reasonably wide and spacious corridors that were absent of all personnel. The corridors that led to the main officer’s lounge had been cleared ahead of time to decrease unnecessary onlookers and witnesses, for the moment.

Alexandra looked over her shoulder at the people following behind her. “So, Captain Rilken, please tell me more information about your nation you hail from. From what I know, there has not been any record of any nation by the name of Avelona.” They reached an intersection and turned left. “The officer’s lounge is just up ahead on the right.”

The young woman stopped in front of one of the featureless bulkhead doors that dotted the corridors. “After you,” Alexandra motioned with her hands as the door slid open with a whooshing sound.

OOC: The inside of the Officer’s Lounge can be described as a fairly large rectangular stateroom with a long conference table in the middle. The walls would be decorated with the same wood finish as many of the officers’ areas. One could possibly see the occasional pictures or models of antique ships. At one end there would be a large map, probably like an antique peace, that would also match the rustic/classical seafaring décor. At one end would be an actual lounge that surrounded round depression in the center of the floor (similar to the viewing platform described in a previous post, but your people wouldn’t know what its purpose is).
**Avelona, I want to see more of your descriptive skills in action and see what you can make of the place.**

Outer Space

<GlobalOmni Mission Control> Initial scans are in. There is definite human activity- a definite moderate advanced civilization. They're advanced to around the early 1810s.

<CS-338105> Copy. There appears to be a London here- and there's a chance that they speak English. Worked before, anyways. We're setting a course.

<GlobalOmni Mission Control> Acknowledged. Aerospace and Navy called, by the way, and they're letting us handle it for now. We're only to represent ourselves as GlobalOmniMega for now, and we're asked to portray Tiburon as a nice place of goodness. You know the drill.

<CS-338105> Yeah, yeah. Noriyama out.

The spacecraft- a Cessna Median 17 (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y123/United_Solaris_Federation/Median17.jpg)- gently banked in the upper atmosphere to reduce velocity, gradually lowering to a plain near London. The lack of a runway aside, it was nothing more than an ordinary flight.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The presence of 4 points startled the pilots at first. There wasn't supposed to be flight here for a hundred years. Whatever the cause, though, they would have to land to find out what it was. The Median was now 0.25 mi from the plain.

{Message Type: Recurring, 40 cycles/hr}
{Point: 0.33m, 0.28m, 288 deg NNW >
<CS-338105> Attention, all airplanes/spaceships in vicinity. This is the Global 83, a GlobalOmniMegaCorp corporate craft intended for executive transport. We represent the GlobalOmniMega Technological Corporation in their entirety, and mean no harm.

A gentle skid marked the landing of the Global 83, and Noriyama, Patel, and Nately stepped out into the unknown.

Thakar nodded to the junior officer standing alongside him as the wooden ship drew alongside.

"Tell them to cut engine power. We don't want to outrun our escort. Oh, and tell Rom we've got company."

He returned his gaze to the wooden ship. It was close enough now to distinguish the captain. Again he raised the megaphone. "Thank you. I take it you are escorting us to a port?"

West

Alvinsson's fingers drummed nervously on the flight deck's mahogany panelling as the dragons approached. It set Sif's teeth on edge.

Dragons! she thought, half amazed and half enraged. In our waters! The Hall will have to talk to the Academy of Modern Biology about this. The nerve of them!

"Wireless!" she snapped, and the operator in his booth readied the Marconi apparatus. "Transmit to the Airfleet repeater at Roanoke, standard frequencies; "Transmission to Ydalir. Report from Airfleet dirigible Sleipnir. Located approximately -" she checked the little analytical engine on the flight deck - "39º 14' North 19º 45' East*. Have encountered flying organisms, possibly dragons. Moving to investigate.""

The clatter of the apparatus trailed off a few seconds after she stopped. The operator saluted; "Transmission sent, sir!"

"Very good. Alvinsson, what are they doing? Crew to alert!"

Along the gondola, and in their Maxim-gun nests atop the gasbag, the anti-aircraft guns turned to follow the dragons as they passed.

*Steelhaven measures Longitude from the capital, not from Greenwitch.

Bloody hell but he's pretty.

As a side note, Thandi's thought reflects a great many impressions. Looks, smell, an analysis of motion patterns born in grueling martial arts training, heat patterns, observation of cardiopulmonary activity...

Suffice to say, the Captain's a hunk. He's also her responsibility. A look around with slightly narrowed eyes.

thandi connor: all on grindemyr, these people are guests and this is a first contact. best behavior. 'nita, lars, 'asha, that includes you.

"Let's get you and your people freshened up then, Captain." Slightly slower speech, like she's caught herself babbling. "If you'll come inside I'll get some food for you and you can hit the bath. Now, I've no idea what your ideas of propriety are, so... you're all guests. Anyone feels offended by something, please tell anyone and we'll sort it. It won't be a deliberate offense, or whoever's doing it is acting against my orders and I will personally sort that person out."

No posing, but she does look confident in her ability to sort people, and not to consider her statement odd.

"Now, let's get washed up and some food." She offers Andrew her arm. "Do you do separate baths for males and females? Ah, nudity taboos? Oh, and you'll likely all receive some appreciative looks. No offense intended, you won't get hit on much. Please don't take offense if you get ogled by someone who's not your preferred gender."

The house is a mass of sloping walls, hugely solid, armored more against the forces of nature than against assaults, a conglomerate of lesser buildings. Outside, people playing a game that could be decribed at length but is actually volleyball, a circle playing another game of cheery songs and a pair of knives thrown knives, both games played with inhuman speed, players obviously preening for each other, showing off.

Inside, light woods and softly-colored mosaics over whatever the walls are made of, climbing greenery and fresh smells, clean polished floors of hardwoods and marble. A quick break to grab fruits and bread and a case of wine in the kitchen (smells of cooking, a couple of people eating), past sounds of a salle d'armes and into the changing area of an open-plan bath house.

There are some people about, but not as many as could easily be squeezed in.

Flight deck of H.M.S. Horatius.

Colonel K'Harkan was accounted by many of his brethren as being a bit strange, odd even, for his enjoyment of the mammal military life. After all, he was a Draco Rex, the largest and most powerful of dragonkind, virtually immortal and possessed of a subtle, cunning and independent intellect.
For such a creature to limit itself to the narrow strictures of mammalkind, well, that one must be strange indeed.
And so he was, for a Rex.
But he wasn't stupid.
As soon as the men and dragons reacted to his display, K'Harkan knew that his attemptedly-reassuring shift had had the precise opposite effect, and he was already shifting back before one of the men rasped the giveaway word "demon".
Back to his bipedal form K'Harkan raises his hands, one checking the forward motion of his Marine honour guard, the other attempting the same with the Avelonans.
When he is sure his own soldiers are halted, he locks his attention on the Avelonan group and rasps a quiet but forceful response.
"I am not. I promise this, and will under-go whatever tests you choose to prove it, but I am no demon. This I swear. The form-shift is a universal ability for dragons of my kind, obviously this is not so for you. Please, put up your weapons, test me if you will, but I would not have this meeting with kin shattered by strife..."

“I’ll have some fruit juice, if there is some,” would in the end cost 4,280 rungs and exactly 32 cents. The reasons for this are somewhat more complex than anticipated. Redge in attempting to find a variety of juices that could satisfy Kincade and with access to nearly unlimited resources (relatively speaking) compared to his usual allotment in existence. First he would cross reference the bio scan with in-depth analysis on fruit based beverage consumption, accessing along the way a dozen general use commercial pay for view archives (cost 65 rungs), secondly he would re task a ZMSF mini satellite and a smart agent to analyse the data. The data in question being the fruit trees being visible from orbit within Avelona. The cost of 120 rungs of mini satellite volatile fuel would be used at this point as the shoebox sized device altered its orbit to pass over Avelonas primary fruit growing regions as identified by big array and thermal and weather mapping, taking into account projected rainfall, and known soil types of Europe within what ZMI refereed to as timeline zero cross referenced with possible standard terran fruit. Redge dropped all of this when one of his own internal sub sentient agents found the add for “Karma Juice, juice for you soul” from Orbital Industrial Node “New Niagara” in specific from sub hydroponics platform CT-288. Paying the insane price of 3,999 Rungs with a further 96 rungs for ultra express delivery Redge calmly replied.

“There will be some arriving presently wingrider Kincade.”

As at that moment in the somewhat cluttered earth orbital space 380 miles up and 590 miles to the north a large luxury refrigerated synth fibre hamper was being loaded by delicately padded drone hands with large glass bottles that tinkled. What was inside these bottles almost glowed with “healthy” in a multitude of colours and as the fruit content gently began settling to the bottom of a half dozen bottles had a barcoded seal slapped on it and was sent along a rather long series of rollers and travelators till it was unceremoniously placed within a large conical pod with a single burn grav impeller/compensator coil in its rear end. This then was sent careening through a veritable hall filled with identical pods on there own lines of rollers, and as its barcode and chip tag passed a scanner a light flashed and it was then loaded with some grace by yet another arm directly into what could be only called a giant revolver magazine. This object was promptly sent hurling down a set of rails into open vacuum, caught by yet another arm and neatly loaded into a large silvered tube set with coil like protrusions. This was infact an electromagnetic based mass driver. The mass driver was fairly low velocity used for “local” express deliveries. Moving in a delicate pattern guided by the packets delivery location the driver fired twice before coming to Redges package. The barrel traversed and depressed before firing, the packets grav compensator coil leaving a blue glowing trail as it left the muzzle faster than the human eye could track. Re-entry took a little under 49 seconds after a transit time of a little under 18 seconds, the grav coil roared burning its single use energy cell as it pushed the forming plasma shell away from its thin layer of ablatives, this accomplished it pulsed gently to put it into the heart of the Bess’s “catch vector” while slowing to subsonic flight or rather drop while still in the stratosphere. Aboard the Bess atop the super structure a large heavily built cone like array spun suddenly as yellow alarm lights flashed near it. It too burned blue and filled if there was anyone near it to take a sniff the air with the distinctive scent of ozone, far stronger than that emanating from the ocean. Closing but slowing as its own coil died and the Bess’s catch coil set in the rim of the cone took over the delivery pod stopped and hovered in the exact centre of the cone, balanced delicately in the heart of its field of effect being now totally drained of its own power. A utility drone scuttered forward from the deck and took hold of the package in its single main arm as the Bess’s catch coil flickered off. Flicking the smoking hot thermal superconducting ablative outer layer of the pod into a socket for the Bess’s central thermal superconductor and extensive heat management and dissipation array the smoke cleared and in a seeming instant the pod was cool. The drone then flashed an ID code to the pod and it hissed open with the scent of strawberries permeating the air as the neutral packing gas the drone contained wafted out. Delicate robotic arms reached forward and grasping its basket work prize delicately the utility drone vanished down a drone access utility ramp even as another of its less specialised brethren picked up the pod and started to make its way towards the Bess’s cycler unit.

“Ah here we are wingrider Kincade”

Redge announced proudly as the self same drone came to rest in front of one of the tables and neatly opened the basket to show the variety of rather disturbingly healthy looking fruit drinks” At this point the utility drone extruded shaped and cooled a small glass tumbler infront of the watching group, the very high grade silica costing exactly 32 cents before placing it on the table nearest the wingrider in question.


“Redge did you just?”
“they told us to make a good impression didn’t they?”


As he spoke a variety of light snacks and sandwiches were extracted from the auto chef equipped white kitchen drones and placed upon the tables, once or twice a utility drone rushed forward out of one of the seamless hatches set near the bottom of the wall with what was obviously a small square box filled with lettuce or bread to recharge the drones storage hoppers.

Angelo cleared his throat and gently leaned over to the Earl
“I have been informed by my leaders wish to as soon as possible establish and normalise relations and inquire about trade with your government, of course first before we discuss such ah arid topics”
and now his voice rouse above the drones
“please enjoy the hospitality of the Bess”.

Northwest (Gehenna)

Lord Gawain accepted the tea, not having a liking for coffee, and not having the slight idea what the other, fizzy drinks were. Though they appeared to bubble like champagne, which he was not about to drink while on duty, though the darkness of their colouring made him wonder.

He smiled. “Yes, I am allowed to eat what I wish.” He was not that observant religiously, and besides, not even all the holy orders confined what a man could eat. He popped two of the biscuits into his mouth and chewed them thoughtfully. After washing them down with a bit of drink, he smiled, leaning against the wall. “Would it be acceptable if my other riders landed for some refreshment as well?”

As he spoke, he looked her clothing over. The replaced bottoms were far better, and looked fairly sturdy, though perhaps not as tough as leathers. The thin top was another matter, but despite his propriety, he was not really going to complain. At least she was covered now, despite the fact that the tease was all the more alluring, as he knew quite well from experience with Lady Lindsey.

“We can go as soon as you are ready, though,” he concluded.

Meanwhile, Lindsey was staring thoughtfully at the map still. “If people come seeking trouble for something we had no control over, I am sure the Emperor will be delighted to give it to them. Especially since even though they have lost a ship full, we have lost an entire Princedom.” Her face was hard, and while it was still in her features, her eyes were devoid of their delicate beauty now, instead flashing with dragonflame. “If they wish to argue about who’s loss was greater, we will give them something to grieve.”

She shook her head slightly. “I am sorry. My second brother was among those in the Imperial Guard in the Five Deserts, and I have no idea what has happened to him.”

West (Steelhaven)

Colonel, there are cannon atop the balloon. They’re tracking us.

Show me. Earl Dunston let his mind relax briefly, feeling the image transmitted from the other rider. Well, that is certainly unfriendly looking. But if they do not know us, and as we do not know them, this seems likely, how then would we treat strangers astride dragons in their place? Angela, go closer, as you are the smallest.

Yes, Colonel. The tiny green weyrvn ridden by the only female in the group peeled off from the formation and swept closer. Yes, smallest meant least threatening, hopefully, but it also meant most nimble and fastest, if they decided to open fire with those odd seeming cannon.

Angela Landhurst swept in, guiding her weyrvn to slide past the metallic part that most likely held the crew. It seemed to gleam as glass, after all, in places. Perhaps there would be an opening to communicate through in some manner.

Southwest (Britmattia)

Colonel Dantoña was not sure what was going on. Admittedly, as a soldier, and widely travelled as such, he was accustomed to being such.

The thing claimed not to be a demon, despite its floating ship and craft that should not exist. Despite the fact that it was more than twice as large as any dragon had a right to be. Despite the fact that it could change form and disguise its appearance, in the seeming of a man.

It was not natural, not at all. Everything Enrique knew screamed that this being had to be a demon, or at the very least, a dragon possessed.

So that was when he did something completely irrational. He lowered his gun, and lifting his hand, gestured for his three wingriders to do the same. If he truly is a demon, we’re dead anyways if he wishes us dead. Everyone stand down. “Lower your weapons,” he ordered aloud, glancing over his shoulder with one eye.

Lowered, not put away. But it was a start. “We have neither priest nor mage to test your claim, Colonel,” Dantoña continued. With his free hand, he reached into his flying jacket and produced a golden crucifix, sliding the chain through his fingers. “So this will have to do.” He took a few steps forward, and held out the ornament, his pistol still pointed at the deck.

South (ZMI)

St. Ives merely sipped his water, the water tingling his throat as it drifted down, cooling and relaxing him. Unlike the wingriders, he only helped himself to a small bit of cheese with his water. The others, considering the amount of food spread out before them, decided to eat a relative lot, considering.

But they were still on duty, so a relative lot was still not much. Kincade took something that appeared suspiciously like apple juice, discovering to his delight that it was. The Earl took a step closer to the captain of the vessel. “You have a very fine vessel, Captain, and you set a very nice table. As for trade and relations, I believe that would require an ambassador to the Court of St. Michael, in the Emerald City.”

Southeast (-Noir-)

As Rilken followed the young captain, she silently memorized the twists and turns that they took through the metal bowels of the vessel, her flawless sense of direction helped by the slowly weakening link to her dragon. Fortunately, despite being large, the ship was not that large. She could still hear Wavesheath silently in her head.

The ornate room was a shock on the otherwise utilitarian vessel, and the four riders seemed to flow into like water, its décor and warmth reminding them quite strongly of the home they had left. Rilken’s eyes wandered over the small models that adorned the room, picking up their similarity to the ships of her nation’s naval forces, the soft canvas sails and graceful lines, the painted wooden hulls and the gleaming black snouts of miniature cannons adorning their broadsides.

Cavershaw was examining the giant wall map, running his eyes over its lines with a smile, the familiar sepia tones of the ink and the darker parchment reminding him of the maps they used at home. Rilken heard his silent laughter, and sent an enquiring thought to him.

Nothing much, Captain. Its just these people seem to have never seen a dragon before, and yet, at the edges of their map, it says ‘Here there be dragonnes.’

Very funny. Should we tell them it is in the wrong place?

We could. Miles finished as he turned around, humour lighting his eyes. As guests, though, all four riders remained standing until they were directed to be seated on the very comfortable looking arrangements.

Northeast (Euroslavia)

Emily Proctor took a moment to figure out the pen, but the use was fairly uncomplicated, once she figured out that the ink was inside it already. A rough outline took shape on the paper. Avelona, including all four Princedoms and Britannia, as well as the Muscovite Empire and Indian Empires bordering to the East, and the Untamed Lands to the South.

As she finished, she set it, accurate nearly to scale, on the desk, and when her flight leader nodded, she began to explain. “This was the local world as we knew it.” The familiar outlines of Europe, Western Asia, and Northern Africa were all clearly defined. Suddenly, she roughly crossed out everything except for the mainland of what is called Europe many places and the Britannian Isles. “This is what is left to us, surrounded on all sides by water We have no idea how or why, but it could only be the work of God to accomplish something so powerful. He must have had a reason, and so we are seeking outward to understand this place, that we might discern his reason.”

A slight nod of the male Stanton’s head confirmed she had not gone too far in her explanation. “So, as you can see, we would welcome any help you can give us.”

North (Territory)

Andrew gallantly accepts the woman’s offered arm, but her conversation as he took it nearly dropped him in his tracks. In fact, if it had not been unseemly for the Prince of the Realm to stumble, he likely would have.

Such things are not discussed! And by a woman! He could feel his riders matching shock through their link with the dragons, but it was faint. Emotions did not carry well through the link without words.

He could feel the clear question from Vivian Montehorn, though. Your Highness, is she really implying that there are people who are… attracted to their own gender?

I believe she is, Wingrider.

What hell is this, then, that sin is so rampant and open?

A fairly nice and sunny one, by the looks of it. And they are friendly. As she said of her own people, she’s ordered them not to give offence. I’m doing the same. Do not speak of things that should not be discussed.

At their acknowledgement, Andrew returned his wandering gaze, which had been watching the persons and sights around them unseeingly, to Thandi. “Yes, separate areas for refreshing would be preferred.” The hard tone of his voice made it sound less like ‘preferred’ and more like ‘required if at all possible’. Amazing how much meaning one trained in the art of speaking and diplomacy could put into a single word. “If such is not available, we can take turns.” He hoisted the saddle bags and tack he had removed before the dragons had run off to swim. “Anywhere we can put these?”

West by Southwest (Khrrck)

Escorting them into port?

That was not exactly in his mission orders, but then, his mission orders had merely ordered him to patrol the seas once more. Many of the free frigates had been lost, or were presumed so, so the fleet frigates had been ordered out to sea, until new builds could replace the losses.

The Lydia was matching the other ship now, and Mollison grinned to himself. Might as well escort them in. The only orders I got were ‘Try not to get the Emperor into a war already, Lord James’. Being friendly certainly won’t damage that. At a straight shot, it’s about six hours back to Brees, if the wind holds.

He raised his megaphone. “We will escort you to our home port of Brees. Please mark our course. It will take us about six hours if the wind holds”

Northwest of the Emerald City (Neo-Tiburon)

When the flame had appeared in the sky near the capital, streaking above it to the north and west, the already alerted military forces had gone nearly rigid with shock at the strange sight.

But, on the other hand, they were well trained, and as they flame did not diminish as time crept forward, instead continuing towards the ground, those forces reacted. A flight of dragons launched from the capital, the nearest military base, winging upward into a level flight from their great rookery There were four of them, two massive dragons, both near ninety feet long, a gleaming forest green and one darker than a starless night. Their two accompanying weyrvns were another matter entirely, one the white of a sunny day’s clouds, the other the blue of that same day’s sky.

Astride the black monster was a Colonel of the Air Guards. Specifically, he was a Colonel of the Pendragon Air Guards. The Emperor’s Own Air Guards. They were, in a word, the best.

His name was Colonel Lord Sir Donovan Potter, Lord Gaheris, Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Imperial Standard, Commanding Officer of the Emperor’s Own Air Guards.

As they approached the flame, which was no longer burning, but had indeed grounded. Sableclaw, what do you see?

There are people coming out of it. And it appears to be of metal.

You mean it is something for people to fly as flame across the sky in?

So it would appear, Donovan.

Take us closer to these intruders. This is the Emperor’s land, and we will find out who they are.

One by one, the dragons grounded, tearing up the soft, fertile ground on which they alighted with their claws, and the Colonel slid to the ground, feeling his wingriders forming up behind him, the dragons arranged in a loose circle about the strange object. His riding leathers gleamed black, his dark brown hair with hints of gold flowing back until it was restrained by a leather strap behind his head. As he stopped before the intruders, he growled politely, “Who are you, and by what business do you intrude on the Emperor’s lands?”

Kathy smiled as Matthew took the tea and laughed at herself for asking him such a stupid question about the food. Despite feeling more at ease having met the two riders, she was still a little shaken from their arrival. “Of course, they can come for some refreshments.” She looked passed him at the yacht they were sailing and gave him an apologetic look. “We could have done with a bigger boat.” Turning her attention back to his lordship, she frowned. “I’m afraid we have nothing for your dragons, not that we’d have a bowl big enough to put anything in for them.”

She steepled her fingers together in thought, pondering the best course of action. “We may have some buckets, but I don’t know how we would get them to them.” Shaking her head, she sighed heavily. “We weren’t expecting guests.” She laughed again and pulled her jacket around her. “Shall we go after tea for our ride? I don’t want you to rush off for me.”

Mark nodded his head, as Lady Lindsey spoke. “I’m sure no one is going to hold your nation responsible for what has happened, though I do believe you could be in for a lot of questions and speculation, until people grow accustomed to your arrival.” He looked out of the window, out over the ocean, trying to imagine it with a new stretch of land that had not been there before.

“And I am sorry to hear about your loss, not only of your brother but of the others that were lost with him.” He gave her a sad smile. “I wish there was something that we could do to help…not just my wife and I, but I am sure the Empire would be most interested in your plight.” Not to mention any number of scientists and documentary makers.

"Sounds good to me. I believe we could arrive faster, though, if you were willing to accept a tow. We have power to spare- judging by the size of your vessel, we could arrive in five hours, perhaps less."

Thakar smiled as he lowered the megaphone. He suspected the other captain was too wary to accept a tow, but nevertheless he found it useful to show a little superiority. It made negotiations easier.

West

"It's below the depression of the top guns!"

Sif scowled; did Alvinsson think she couldn't see that well enough for herself in the field glasses? The green dragon-thing approaching was still well in angle of the gondola guns, though, the four-inchers and the Maxims. If it got too close ... even the Academy of Modern Anatomy couldn't make a lizard spit fire, surely?

She adjusted the lenses to better precision and looked again.

"There is someone riding that thing."

Voice hard, emotions under control; a good neo-Spartanist admitted no knowledge of wonder. Or fear.

"We can reason with men, at least," Alvinsson said. "Unless they're some kind of skraelings."

Sif nodded; eight hundred years had taught the Vindreijar you couldn't negotiate with savages. Women, however ...

"Hold fire," she directed. The dragon-aviatrix was drawing near, and she could see the shock on the flight deck crew's faces even if they tried to hide it. A girl on a dragon! The Academy didn't admit women, so ...

"Open the port hatch." There was grumbling about that, quietly - this high up, it was bitterly cold - but they did it. Sif climbed out onto the narrow catwalk around the flight deck, keeping one hand firmly on the hatch frame.

The chill wind blew strands of hair loose from her braid and sent her jacket and scarf to fluttering, but she ignored that.

"Ahoy!" she yelled, "You there! What're you doing here?"

Thandi links arms with the Captain with a hint of a Prussian bow (fluid movemets, radiated heat a bit stronger than it should be from a woman by his side, unless she's feverish) as they walk off.

There's a flurry of activity as the Territorial hosts pull thin translucent screens from a storage room, setting up a pair of enclosed spaces; there are no servants about from the look of things but there have been glimpses of some sort of ape-men moving about. Short, hairy, Thandi keeps up her role as first talker to the Avelonans.

"...there, done. Hot pool in that room is volcanic, great for tired muscles. Up to you if men or women get that one first. You can use the shower in there to wash yourself off first..." Pointing out where the toilet is, quick demonstration of said toilet, and the shower, where to get soap and sponges, bathrobesand towels from a heated closet (by this point it's obvious that the locals take their bathing seriously), clean cottons if you want, yell if you want the sauna so we can clear out...

It's all rather brisk and efficient, and in a couple of minutes the Avelonans have a largish, mostly enclosed area to themselves. And some light food, and wine.

Peeling and heading into another shower, Thandi turns to Hendrik. "Well, that went well. I don't think I really offended anyone. Sponge my back? Unless these people are total martinets we should have time for washing up and a quickie."

Hendrik stretches like a cat and grabs a sponge. "They seem to be taking things well for landing in a resort full of foreign nutcases. I'm guessing their boss is a spook. Part of the job."

Alexandra watched the four characters move through the officer’s lounge. They seem to be at home, thought Alexandra, as she the person named Cavershaw let out a minute laugh while looking at the map. Okay, now what do I do?

The captain walked over to Rilken who was in front of her and tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Excuse me, if you and your companions would go over to the lounge’s seating arrangements over there,” Alexandra pointed to the round doughnut-like depression that was lined with two levels of cushioned seats that formed a very small amphitheater-like lounge at the other end of the room. “And have a seat; we can continue our discussion from earlier.”

Alexandra began to walk towards the seating area quickly added, “Oh, if anyone of you want anything to eat or drink, please feel free to ask.”

Was that the right thing to do? was the question that ran through Alexandra’s head. I didn’t sound like an idiot right? I wonder what kind of impression they have of me now? she continued to ask herself. Alexandra curled up a lock of her dark black hair in her fingers and bit her lip as she waited for an answer. Maybe I shoudn't have tapped Rilken on the shoulder like that. Ugh, what's done is done. Why am I fussing over this still?

Alexandra let out a silent sigh, making sure no one else heard her. What I need to do now is to figure out what to tell these people. I can't just say "your country doesn't exist." Even I think that'd be rude. Grumbled Alexandra in her head. If only I had communications and the satellite up-link running, then I can just zoom in on their country's location on the globe and show them that there isn't any country in the area they claim to have originated from.

---

NSS Eclipse (S.C.V.N. 10)

The admiral lifted his mug to his lips and took a long mouthful of the steaming liquid. Officer’s coffee is a real change from the standard issue stuff. For ages they’ve never perfected the standard issue coffee for the navy. You can never give a Navy man a cup of Army, Marines, or Space Fleet brewed coffee. Army standard issue brew was bitter and did not have as much kick as the Marines brew, but was also a bit bland. Space Fleet brew was a whole different story because it differed from ship to ship, based on their primary base of operations that could be on different planets. But officer’s coffee was uniform throughout, high-grade goodness. Not too strong but not too weak, but still had the full-bean flavor. But after years and years of serving in the navy, you get attached to the standard brew. I’m getting too old for this, thought the admiral. Then his doorbell tone went off. Lee placed the half-empty mug back on top of his desk. The door at the far side of his office opened revealing a hassled petty officer and a pair of young women at the door.

“Admiral…” groaned the petty officer.

“Admiral Lee, so nice of you to meet with us again,” said a very cheerful Karen Hart. She evaded the petty officer. “Come on Kasumi,” she continued as she pulled her friend into the office.

The admiral turned his eyes from the two ladies and towards the petty officer. “Thank you, dismissed sailor.”

“Yes, sir,” said the petty officer who had gathered enough of his remaining vitality to snap to a salute and walk away closing the door behind him.

“And what is it you Miss Hart and you Miss Kamijyo, are so eager to tell me at this late hour,” asked Lee, who motioned Karen and Kasumi to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“Well then, this black…” Karen started as she pulled out her flexipad from her coat pocket.

“Everything we know about this communications blackout has been reported to you and all the other correspondents at the Spearhead. We have nothing else to comment,” snapped the admiral. “If you’re here just to ask me that, then you’re just wasting your time.”

“Well, that’s not it.” Karen continued to tinker with her flexipad. “Here it is.”

Karen handed the flat device to the admiral, who had reluctantly accepted it. For a split second she saw the admiral’s eyes light up in surprise but then quickly returned to his neutral gaze. She leaned back in the chair, crossed her arms, and smiled smugly. Gotcha, thought Karen quickly.

“And what is this?” asked Lee.

“Something that was left out of the report,” smiled Karen, “just a little picture that my friend was able to dig up.” She motioned to Kasumi next to her, who smiled and waved awkwardly.

“Okay, then I believe I should be asking Miss Kamijyo what this is.” Lee turned towards Kasumi, who squirmed a little in her seat, but regained her composure. “Miss Kamijyo, do you care to explain to me what this photo is.”

“Oh, no need to pick on my little Kasumi-chan, admiral,” snapped Karen, who laughed a bit noticing the position the admiral was imposing on her. “I can see the headlines posted on the Noir World News right now. ‘5th Fleet Blackout – What Were They Trying To Hide?’ Might be more suited for the gossip column, but once the public realizes where their taxes go. This article would provide a very interesting rabble rouser.”

The Captain nodded, still slightly confused, and replied. "If this did happen, which I'm certainly not doubting you, then where exactly did the people who inhabited Europe go, when your territories were placed there?" he questioned them, though with both parties unsure of the situation, it was unlikely that either would have an answer. The question would probably remain unanswered for quite some time.

"Tell us a little about your world." spoke Jennifer, as she broke the brief, but awkward silence that enveloped the room. "Perhaps if we knew a little about your world, maybe we'd be able to better understand you, and work towards figuring out what happened."

There was little doubt that the Captain, Jennifer, and Jason wouldn't be able to offer any sort of solution, but they were quite interested in learning more about this civilization that seemed to have been misplaced on the wrong world. Through this, perhaps they could help these people get used to living here. Honestly speaking, these people probably would never get back to where they came from. A work of magic such as this wasn't likely to happen more than once in a lifetime...

Deck of H.M.S Horatius.

K'Harkan nodded. "It will do."
He edged forward and took the crucifix the Avelonan gingerly dropped into a now-human hand. Turning his palm to face the men and dragons, in the posture of a man proclaiming a halt, he pressed the metal to his skin.
"Is this what you had in mind?"
He pulled the cross away, his palm unchanged but for slight pressure marks, fading as the Avelonans watched.
"I am no demon good sirs, I swear on this crucifix, and by my honour and true-name. I merely have a skill my kin amongst you do not. If this is not sufficient proof, we can retreat from this meeting until sufficient evidence for our non-trafficking with demons can be gathered, but I would be deeply dishonoured by a moment of foolishness ruining contacts with a nation we plainly have a lot in common with."
He looked rueful, pushing the soft-topped wheelcap he wore back, rubbing at his scalp with his index finger.
"If there is any other proof to give I can give, I will. It's up to you from here."
He looked at the Avelonans, waiting with all the patience gathered in unumbered years of life.

Northwest of the Emerald City

The three turned to look at four dragons coming from the sky. They were quite alarmed at the size of these creatures- the only other sentient reptiles they knew, the Sakkrans, were about the same size as the various species of Tiburonese. "Quite alarmed" would be a bit of an understatement- All three were scared stiff at first. Patel, the sociologist and anthropologist of the group, whispered in an undertone to Noriyama and Nately that the three should form a group, preferrably led by Noriyama, since he was a sergeant in the LSF*. The two quickly agreed, and walked gingerly to the colonel.

Noriyama took the lead, trying to make sure anything he said didn't ensure them a most violent and painful death. "Uh... my name is Hiryu Noriyama, this is Akash Patel, and that's Dan Nately. We're explorers from... a company that's based in a nation, and... uh... we landed here to find out exactly why this continent popped up out of nowhere. We... uh... we come in peace," he added at the end, feeling very much like

USF South Atlantic Joint Command, Saint Croix, Tiburonese Caribbean Islands, Tiburon

Meanwhile, in the South Atlantic Joint Command, various colonels and lieutenant colonels were ensured quite violent deaths. They passed up the chance to explore a new continent and establish friendly relations, and they would not continue. They sent frantic messages to GlobalOmniMegaCorp that the LSF would send forces to assist, which were then routed to Nately, the commanding (and only) computer expert on the mission. The chance would not be missed again.

*The LSF, or Lightning Strike Force, is Tiburon's version of the Marines

Northwest (Gehenna)

MacClavern grinned slightly. “I am sure you would have had trouble handling a larger craft with just yourself and your husband as crew.”

Avery. No, both of you. You can land.

Right, boss.

Of course, milord.

The Avelonan lord continued as the silent conversation concluded, “There is no need to worry about the dragons. They eat only every few days as it is, even if they were hungry, cleaning you out of food would be horribly impolite of us as guests.” He took another sip of the tea, which turned into a deep drink. He was rather thirsty.

Looking forward at a clatter of sound, he noticed his other two riders attempting to land on the deck at the same time, which, typically for the two, had landed them both on their rear ends, sprawled out in their riding leathers. I suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to have gone one at a time?

If you’d wanted that, Captain, you should’ve said so. Matthew did his best to project a mental glare at the two of them. He returned his gaze to Kathy. “No, I do not imagine you were expecting to meet anyone out in the middle of the ocean, much less guests. And as I said, we can go for a ride as soon as you are ready.”

Meanwhile, further inside the cabin, Lady Lindsey was staring blankly at the map now, obviously, her mind was far away behind her green eyes. “People are welcome to ask questions,” the young redhead muttered darkly, “just not of me.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Perhaps when you return to the Empire, you can carry a message for us, but it might be more appropriate, if it were to come from someone in the capital instead of a group of scouts.”

West (Steelhaven)

Angela Landhurst found that it was particularly entertaining to keep her weyrvn in a single place relative to the massive balloon, especially as the large door opened in the side and she saw the woman there.

Unfortunately, the droning of the great wheels in the sky above them, combined with the rush of air from the, while not fast, still relatively quick movement, made it nearly impossible for her to understand what was shouted for a long moment. Eventually, of course, with help from Wind Leaf, she was able to puzzle it out.

But given the difficulty she had had understanding the woman, she wondered if she could shout loud enough to make herself heard. Then she wondered if it had been the woman’s accent that had made it difficult to understand her, and that led on the tangent of thought that her relative accent might cause the same problem.

Oh, well, nothing to do but try.

“We’re on a scouting mission,” she shouted back, cupping her hands to amplify her voice.

Southwest (Britmattia)

It was certainly up to the Air Guards Colonel to make the next move, and he was decidedly unhappy with the situation. Every bit of his training still called out to him that the man had to be a demon, but nothing he had been taught let him face a demon which could hold a Holy Crucifix in his hand without injury or melting the crucifix.

In fact, as far as he had been taught, there was no such thing, and such a thing was, frankly, impossible.

It seemed there was going to be a lot to report when he returned home. So he made a decision, and his pistol slipped back into the leather which held it firmly to his leg. A moment later, the other three riders followed suit and the dragons and weyrvns began to calm down, the angry crimson fading from their eyes.

Taking the crucifix back, Dantoña smiled grimly. “Alright, Colonel, I believe you for now. Let’s go somewhere and talk, unless you would rather stand out here all day.”

Southeast (-Noir-)

At Alexandra’s question, she probably noticed the looks each of the riders traded around, seeming to communicate with their eyes silently.

Which indeed, was basically what they were doing. But she might have missed it in the bustle to get seated on the comfortable furniture.

Of course, it was not that the Dragonriders were trying to hide their ability to communicate telepathically in any way. They no longer thought about it all, any longer. “We all could do with some water,” Rilken said after a moment, watching the younger woman, still having trouble with the idea of her in command of this obvious warship, despite its strange design.

She smiled nicely, though obvious, she was not from a society in which corrective dental work was a big thing. Her teeth were naturally straight, though not with the perfection that might be enjoyed in later time periods. “As for earlier, what would you like to discuss?”

Northeast (Euroslavia)

Michael now took up the threads of the discussion once more, confused by the reference to whatever Europe was. “What… what do you mean the people who were living in Europe? What is this Europe?” He blinked in confusion. “I’ve never heard of any place called Europe.” The idea of calling the continent that had vanished nearly a thousand years before, in his timeline, after all.

Only books of the most ancient history referred to the Avelonan mainland by that name, and those were only read by priests and high mages, and ancient monks who studied such mysteries…

He drew the rough sketched map to him, and began a narration, though, at Jennifer’s request, repeating the story of Arthur, and his children, and the beginning of the Finborne dynasty, swiftly bringing the story up to current day… at least from his point of view.

Along the way, he mentioned the massive wars, involving tens of thousands of soldiers, and hundreds of mages, the battles between demonic and Holy magics, and quite probably made very clear the importance of God to the Avelonans.

North (Territory)

The four riders stood still in the entry way to the baths until after their host had departed, and for all the world appeared to be silent. Actually, there was quite a heated debate going on.

Patrick, Megan and I should definitely get to use the volcanic baths first.

Why, just cause you are women?

No, we should get to use them because the Prince hasn’t mentioned what he would like to do, and we out vote just you.

All three other riders were older than the Prince Imperial, and eventually, he began to grin as they bickered like children. When he finally chuckled out loud, they finally stopped to look at him and he spoke. “Patrick, you use the volcanic baths first because you will be faster than Vivian and Megan.” He began to unfasten his riding jacket. “I plan, myself, to use the shower. It looked interesting.”

Some thirty minutes later, Andrew and Patrick were seated in their silken shirts (with the sleeves rolled up) and the leather pants of their riding outfits, with soft calf boots on instead of the heavy riding boots, halfway asleep when the two women finally emerged from the volcanic baths. Andrew cracked one eye open at the sound of their return and was met with a glare. “You didn’t have to make us look so slow you went to sleep.”

He noticed, unlike he and Patrick, the two women were dressed in the loaned clothing, and frowned slightly. He had already concluded that keeping their weapons on them would not be considered an offence, and both he and Patrick wore their sword belts, though the pistols were absent. Both women were now unarmed.

“It is your choice, but I would prefer if you put your own clothing back on, Riders. Just in case.”

West by Southwest (Khrrck)

Tow a Frigate of the Line? Of His Imperial Majesty’s Avelonan Navy? Is that man insane? These were the thoughts running through Captain Mollison’s head as the other man’s voice broke off.

Casting his gaze across the other ship, admiring its sleek, yet bulky lines, he smiled slightly, then raised the megaphone again. “No, there will be no need for a tow. We can maintain this course and match your speed.”

The other ship was quite obviously a freighter. There was no way it could pull more than about thirty knots, Mollison reasoned as he turned to Lieutenant Masters. “Inform Mage Lieutenant Wiley that his presence is required on deck.” He grinned slightly, turning his features even more boyish. “We need a wind.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Masters vanished.

The young Captain glanced at one of the young boys scrubbing the deck. “And you boy, run down and get me a quill and parchment from my cabin.” The child moved with alacrity, setting his mop aside under the gunwale, and started to scamper off the quarter deck.

“Wait,” the young boy looked back guiltily at the Captain’s words. “What do you say to me?”

The ship’s boy looked down at his feet. “Aye aye, sir.”

“Very good.” Mollison extended his hand and held it out to the boy, who in turn extended his own to catch what the captain dropped to him. “Bring that back.” The object in question was a small gold charm that identified the bearer as on the captain’s business.

Of course, it would burn someone if they kept it longer than it took to run the errand the captain had assigned them. The boy vanished down a hatchway.

Wiley was on deck a moment later. “Yes, Captain? A wind?”

Mollison nodded. “When they move out,” he said, indicating the other ship, “keep us with them.”

“Aye, sir. Anything else?”

“Yes, I am going to need you to send a message to the Linda for me. If we fall behind, they can intercept short of Brees, hopefully.”

“Of course, though it might be better if I send the message before casting the wind spell, sir.”

“Whichever works better for you, Mage Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir.”

Northwest of the Emerald City (Neo-Tiburon)

Potter smiled as he sensed the fear radiating off the people in front of him. He was used to that, but somehow, he sensed that it had more to do with the dragons than with him.

That was perfectly acceptable, of course. As long as these intruders were afraid. “Well, we have been wondering much the same thing, expect from our point of view, it was more a question of why and how did an ocean pop out of nowhere?” He smiled more broadly. “I think perhaps I should take you back to Camelor castle, so you can explain to the Emperor, though. He is most interested in what is going on.”

His eyes grew bright with assumed cheek, though, as he continued speaking. “If nothing else, His Imperial Majesty will want to know why you ruined so many of his crops.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the crushed and burned crop trail the strange craft had left behind it when it landed.

West

This will not do, Sif thought. "Engines to full stop!" she yelled back into the flight deck. "And a loudhailer!"

Both commands were obeyed with the customary punctuality - a loudhailer was pressed into her waiting hand, and the great bulk of the Sleipnir pulled to a halt, rotors turning lazily to mantain position in the mild breeze.

A scouting mission? Not from Kassony, then. The blasted Academy isn't to blame this time.

"A scouting mission?" she called back, through the loudhailer. "And from where might you be scouting? There's naught but open air for thousands of miles East."

Kathy watched as the last two riders dismounted from their dragons in a very awkward manner, and was more than a little surprised to see them having to climb to their feet on the deck of the yacht. When she had seen Matthew and his female companion leave their mounts, they had managed it with finesse. She suddenly wondered how she would be able to climb on and off if two experts had made such a difficult job of it.

“I’ll just make sure your people get their tea.” She smiled, feeling a little nervous. “And then perhaps we can…go for a fly.” A frown marred her brow. “Is that the correct term?” She was not sure what you called riding on a dragon, being as she had never had to use the phrase before.

She moved to the door of the bridge, and looked at the two newcomers. “Would you like tea?” Before they could answer, she moved back inside, knowing that they would tell her once they drew nearer. “So, your nation…it has had dragons for a long time?” She paused. “I mean, it is safe.” Her gaze once more fell upon the two riders outside, her brow furrowing even more.

While his wife looked after the other riders, Mark was looking at Lady Lindsey, more than a little surprise on his face. “I’m sure no one would hold you responsible, unless you moved the nation, which I am sure you did not.” He grinned. “And answering questions, even if you do not know the answer is often the responsibility of those that perform first contact.” He smiled and lowered his eyes to the map for a moment before answering.

“As for the Empire, if it were not for satellites, I think I would be classed mad coming back with such a tale.” Once more a grin spread over his lips. “But it would be an honour to carry your message, although I am sure that you would be as much welcome as I will be with this news.”

The shower is... good. That is, once you puzzle the controls out and get past scalding yourselt with high-pressure water. Still, the properly bred and raised nobleman can endure such things quietly, enjoy the fruits of his experience, and if he is ever so slightly petty-minded look forward to his fellows scalding themselves, or feeling the Arctic cold.

When summoned, the four Territorials appear. Thandi and Hendrik are dressed like the others now, in off-white cotton and shoulder rigs. It's slightly odd - they all look very similar. Like their Maker had used a jig building hard-muscled bodies. Even the difference between men and women is subdued.

Thandi bows to Andrew shallowly in what seems to be a local,formal greeting. "And now, Captain, unless there's a taboo against it we'd like to introduce you to a Territorial custom. Cooking and eating." Again, the close-lipped smile. "You're free to participate as much or as little as you want of course, but I hope you won't be hungry for quite a few hours when we're done. And I really want to hear of your homeland and your peoples."

She leads on through the convoluted building; when they come to the cooking and dining area there are just a few people there. They acknowledge the Avelonans with bows, or a palm-to-chest gesture, and curious looks; then they politely carry on with their own conversations, and eating, and nursing a splinted arm in one case.

Soon, freezers and coolers and larders are being pulled open. The knives come out, and soon slabs of meat are sizzling in pans over oversize gas burners as a quick salad hits the table.

There's a sort of competition with the knives. Cutting. Precisely. With flair. And quickly

H.M.S Horatius.

"Can't say I would, so if you gentlemen could follow me?"
K'Harkan lead the group of men, and their mounts, towards a large circular depression in the flight deck.
"There'll be a slight lurch, and then this platform will lower, don't be alarmed, it's just a mechanical contrivance."
A slight, closed-lip smile.
"I can remember when I first started running into this sort of technology and how ah...strange, it seemed."
A "clunk." came and the platform lowered sedately into the hull of the aero-carrier, as the platform lowers the Avelonans are able to see the hull section they're being lowered into is vast, high-ceilinged and empty.
Well, it would be empty, but for the presence of the flying machines they'd run into earlier, and other machines which are obviously kin to those.
All around the floor below blue and khaki clad figures work unhurriedly but steadily on tasks which, to the keen observers of the Avelonan scouts, the personnel below are obviously long-accustomed to performing.
Even as the lift grinds down a tannoy crackles, dismissing the working technicians, who drift away, not without a few curious glances at the steadily descending platform.
As that platform thumps home, a table and chairs are carried out by what the Avelonans must see as constructs of some sort, no organic creature these, unnerving in a different way to the comprehensible mechanics of the lift, or the unsubtle magics of K'Harkan's shape-shifting.
The table deposited, the constructs absent themselves and the Colonel is joined by two other officers, a dwarf, face concealed by a black beard thick enough to pass for a hedge in the dark and a human female, pretty in a severe, dark-haired sort of way, both with the rankpins-on-red insignia of staff officers.
K'Harkan waves the Avelonans to seats, before joining them.
"I felt the hangar suitable, given I don't want to isolate you from your mounts. These are, respectively, Major Grolin, Supply and Major Schiopetti, my Intelligence officer."
The two nod as they're named.
"Now sir, or would you prefer an other title, you would perhaps be better off in explaining your current situation, and we'll fill in what blanks we can..."

Northwest of the Emerald City (Tiburon)
Potter smiled as he sensed the fear radiating off the people in front of him. He was used to that, but somehow, he sensed that it had more to do with the dragons than with him.

That was perfectly acceptable, of course. As long as these intruders were afraid. “Well, we have been wondering much the same thing, expect from our point of view, it was more a question of why and how did an ocean pop out of nowhere?” He smiled more broadly. “I think perhaps I should take you back to Camelor castle, so you can explain to the Emperor, though. He is most interested in what is going on.”

His eyes grew bright with assumed cheek, though, as he continued speaking. “If nothing else, His Imperial Majesty will want to know why you ruined so many of his crops.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the crushed and burned crop trail the strange craft had left behind it when it landed.

Nately, who was quite alarmed upon seeing a dragon, was positively terrified at learning that the LSF was going to arrive. Not because the LSF themselves were fear-inducing- they were formidable to all, but they provided a blanket of safety to Tiburonese- but rather because of the magnitude with which the situation was unfolding. He managed to stammer out an explanation.

"Ah... uh... we, um... we'd like to just explain... uh... something right now. We're... ah... citizens of a nation known as Tiburon, but... uh... we're not... official representatives. However, with your permission, if we could... um... make the talks more official by... ah... involving official reps... um... that would be.... beneficial..."

Thakar grinned at the Avelonian ship's reply.

"Very well. We shall proceed to port with all due speed, then. Don't worry, we'll slow down if you need to catch up."

He dropped the megaphone and spun to face the crew.

"Fire up the engines, boys. Let's see what this old freighter can do."

******

The Khrrckian ship began to belch quite alarming amounts of thick black smoke, and slowly pulled away from the Avelonian vessel. On a good day, with its retrofitted engine, it could make 28 knots.

NSS Nagazuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

Alexandra relaxed a bit at Rilken’s smile. At least she’s trying to be friendly. Alexandra locked eyes with Rilken for a second or two. Weird thought Alexandra, oh well, better act my part then.

Alexandra walked over to the other side of the cabin and palmed in her hand into her flexipad which then caused two sections of the wall to jut out and slid to either side. Past the heavy decorative décor of the walls was a hidden compartment which opened up and revealed a multi-tiered refreshments bar. From a glance, it looked as if it were a mix between a heavily stocked concessions stand at a movie theater with stacks of snacks and candy sealed behind glass cases and an elaborate bar with a myriad of multi-colored bottles riding along a carousel type conveyer belt sitting behind a glass case. Alexandra ordered up four cups from the touchpad that operated the beverage carousel.

With one of the small metallic cups in hand, she turned to face the riders to ask them if they wanted regular or sparkling water. But right when she was about to say something, she was left with her mouth hanging open as she quickly stopped herself. What an absurd thing to ask… she thought and poured out the water into the cups and placed them onto a magnetic tray.

Alexandra quickly offered each of the riders a cup of water and placed the tray on the ledge of the center pedestal. She then quickly pulled out her flexipad that was hanging from her waist, dimmed surrounding lights, and palmed up a 3-Dimensional image of the globe that floated in the center of the mini-amphitheater.

“Ok, where exactly did you come from?”

Northwest (Gehenna)

Lord Gawain chuckled as he realized what had prompted the questions as the twins approached. “It is perfectly safe. Dragons have interacted with humans for all of our recorded history, though for a long time, they were misunderstood and feared. Dragons would never hurt a human… well, never a human who they were friendly with.” They were used in war, after all. “And do not mind the twins. We had to assign them rooms on the first floor of their barracks because they were always falling. They are wonderful riders, they just are… clumsy when on the ground.” The two under discussion came into the bridge and collected up small mugs at this point. “Clumsy being a nice way of putting it.”

Catherine glared at him, and then grinned, while Nathaniel merely looked somewhat contrite at embarrassing his commanding officer. But only somewhat. The three wingriders had, after all, made it their mission in life to embarrass the man as regularly and as within regulations as possible.

Backing up slightly in the conversation, he smiled as the two moved away slightly, sipping their beverages. “And now we can for a ride.” Without waiting for confirmation from the woman, he smiled slightly, and stepped outside the cabin, and looked up into the sky, his eyes quickly finding the shadowy grey form of Shadowreaver in the blue sky.

Time to give the nice lady a ride, Shadowreaver.

Very well. I shall hold as still as I can, but perhaps you had better mount first to help her up.

I had figured on that, you know.

Of course you had, Matthew. MacClavern glared at his mount as it spiralled downward and then moved into a hover over the bow of the craft, its wings beating as slowly and steadily as possible to keep it just barely aloft, its leg crooked to provide Matthew with a step up should he need it. He turned to Kathy once they were standing on the main deck.

“Watch carefully. There is a trick to this, but it is relatively easy.” Then he returned his attention to what he was doing, and moved forward quickly, bouncing on his toes onto the proffered foreleg of the dragon and swinging over its neck like the back of a horse, settling into a gap between the ridges on its neck. “Your turn. Just make sure you catch the leg with your foot on the way up. I will catch you.”

He stuck out his hand, ready to grab her hand and pull her up if it did not look like the Tartarian woman would make it.

* * * * * *

As Catherine and Nathaniel settled in with their drinks, leaning against the bulkhead comfortably and enjoying the rocking motion of the craft, Lindsey was examining the man Mark silently for a moment. “Given how far Tartarus appeared on your map, it is unlikely the dragons could fly so far without somewhere safe to stop and rest. And while I certainly cannot speak for the Emperor, I would guess that he will likely send out ships to those nations which we and the other scouts encounter, perhaps with formal ambassadors.”

She shrugged, and mulled over the man’s odd word from before. “And just what is a satellite?”

West (Steelhaven)

Open air? What an odd thing to say. Of course the air was open. That was, after all, the definition of air, was it not? Angela shrugged that oddity away and cupped her hands once more, grateful they had stopped moving, at least, though, Wind Leaf still flapped her wings fairly hard to stay stationary in the cool atmosphere.

“We’re from the Empire of Avelona, about a half day’s ride east from here.” A half day’s ride translated into about four hundred miles.

Southwest (Britmattia)

Colonel Dantoña smiled slightly at the… man’s consideration. “There’s no need to worry about separating us from the dragons, Colonel. We’re never apart from them unless we choose to make it so.” He, and the other riders, nodded to the two majors as they were introduced, and then as they settled into the chairs, he smiled again.

“You’re welcome to call me Enrique, since we share the same rank, Colonel.” He leaned back against the chair, contemplating for a moment. “The situation is… strange. Early this morning, as I was doing inspection, there was a great flash of white light, nearly blinding. It seemed to envelop and surround and pass through everything all at once.” He smiled in recollection. “A number of my unit hit the ground quickly enough, but we soon realized that nothing seemed to be amiss.”

He frowned. “That was, until later in the day. We received orders to scout about, as something terrible had happened. The land on our extreme eastern border had vanished, as had our own holdings to the south in the Five Deserts. In fact, the entire principality had vanished, along with everything in it. We’re one of eight teams exploring outwards in the primary directions searching for some clue as to what happened.”

He looked hopefully at the Britmattian soldier.

Southeast (-Noir-)

What magic is this, Captain?

I don’t know, George.

I heard no spells or invocations, came the disbelieving thought from Rider Cavershaw, who barely managed to retain his sip of water.

I know that some of our more advanced practitioners can do simple spells with the merest thought, just because they have much practice. Perhaps this is a simple spell for her.

It was at this point that the female weyrvn rider interrupted their conversation silently. That’s an odd globe. Everything is wrong. And it’s… way too big, relative to the size of things that I can recognize.

Rilken focused her attentions, then, on the globe that was being projected by the foreign captain. After studying the globe for a moment herself, she picked up the outlines of continents she was familiar with, despite the masses of such things that she could not recognize. She waved her finger over an area the Nagazuki’s captain would recognize as Europe. “Normally, this is where I would say we were from, but…” She paused. “All this,” she waved her hand over Afro-Eurasia, “is gone. And I don’t recognize any of these other continents.” She looked directly at Alexandra. “Where, precisely, are we on this globe?”

North (Territory)

Returning the bow formally, Andrew greeted the Territorials with a smile. “Well, by all means, it would be improper to refuse such happily given hospitality.”

All four riders, on the other hand, were suitably impressed by the knives, though Andrew had seen, on occasion, men in street fairs and other such performers, that appeared just as skilled. The amount of and skill with the obvious weapons drove home that, despite appearances, this really was some sort of soldiers’ camp to the four Avelonans.

After a bit, since there did not seem to be any formal dining situation, they settled in, in a group, with food, seated across from the woman Thandi. Well, three of them were. Patrick had moved over to one of the knife wielders and was trying to get them to teach him what they did to move so fast.

West by Southwest (Khrrck)

Captain Lord James Mollison stared as the freighter began to belch the smoke, disgusting thick blackness filling the sky. “Are they on fire?” he questioned softly, though no one heard him. When the freighter began to move fairly quickly through the water, he raised his eyebrows, rather impressed at the clip at which it was moving, and reasoned the smoke had to have something to do with the engines which propelled the odd vessel.

They had, after all, been smoking earlier when sighted.

He turned back to his own vessel, watching as Wiley’s eyes dipped closed, and he began a soft prayer, a chant really. He had apparently already sent Mollison’s message ahead to the Linda, and was preparing the wind his captain had requested of him. It took a few moments, perhaps as many as five minutes, before the wind built to its full strength, while the foreign vessel pulled slightly ahead of them, perhaps as much as a thousand yards.

But then, they were moving, a cloud of canvas the most beautiful sight on the waves as they tore after the other ship through the open ocean.

Mollison approached Wiley, and noticed the sag to his shoulders as he finished chanting, his eyes still closed loosely. “Are you alright, Mage Lieutenant?”

“Aye, sir. Nothing a short rest and perhaps a bit of food won’t cure.” The young man smiled sheepishly at his captain. “I’m just glad they aren’t moving any faster, sir. The wind has always been my weakest area.”

Mollison smiled at the young man, who was rather new to the ship, having only served on it for the last two months. “Very well.” He pressed his hand into the mage’s. “Go see my steward and tell him to prepare you two eggs and a cup of coffee, and I’ll try to remember that your wind spell is weaker in the future.”

“Aye aye, sir.” The weak smile he summoned up at being granted some of the captain’s food was evidence of just how tired the man really was, before he vanished down below decks, and Mollison returned his attentions to following the other ship.

Northwest of the Emerald City (Neo-Tiburon)

Donovan Potter smiled as the man stammered out an explanation. “Citizens or not, you caused damage to Imperial Property, and you are unauthorized representatives of a foreign power equipped with a higly destructive device. If the Emperor so chose, he could consider you to be a, albeit small, invasion force.” The man grinned and his dragon roared behind him.

“In which case, he would be well within his rights to have you killed.” Potter smiled at the fear this likely produced, then chuckled. “It seems unlikely, though. Summon your official representatives, though, and tell them to meet us in Camelor, in the Emerald City. As soon as you have done that, we will mount up and depart for the castle.”

West

Avelona?

Sif mulled that over - she had never heard of the place, and there was certainly no such Empire to the East. However fast the woman's mount might fly, on the other side of the great ocean were only the kingdoms and principalities of the Old World - Aragon, Aquitaine, Alba Minor, Alba Major across the channel, Eire and Caledon, and the ancient hallowed homeland of Scandia itself.

But off Alba lay the Ile Aval, once Avalon ...

Were these no more than Alban pranksters, then? But the woman rides a dragon, Sif Margray. For that bit of evidence, they might well be alfar ... and Artos Pendragon might well rule in Avalon.

She resisted crossing herself; the Academy of Modern Anatomy in Kassony, with their Frankenstein-West procedures, was bad enough, and the things one heard about in Upper Kassony were worse, but what her grandmother would have called the unseelie court was something else again.

"That's as may be," she said at last. "Will you come aboard, then? 'Tis not exactly easy, to hold a proper conversation out here."

They can't touch steel, now can they? I wonder what she'll say.

Moving along the boat towards the point where they would join the dragon, Kathy began to wonder what kind of madness had come over her to accept something like a ride on a dragon. Of course, her friends would be stunned when she told them that she had ridden on, and it would probably keep her eating out for months, but still, she had to wonder if it was worth risking her life for.

She watched as Lord Gawain climbed aboard the dragon, making it look much easier than she knew it would be. She had focused on where he had placed his hands and feet, hoping to be able to mimic his moves. Once he was comfortable and ready to aid her, she took a step forward, and placed her foot on the first spot that he had, and then reached out for his hand, knowing that she would be safer getting his help. Her eyes met his, requesting his assistance without speaking.

It was not long before she found herself seated in front of Matthew, astride the dragon. Once she was seated, the fear disappeared to be replaced with a sense of excitement. Despite being with a total stranger, she felt oddly comfortable and safe in the presence of the Lord.

“I think I’m ready.” Her voice sounded a little shaky, a little trepidation creeping in at the thought of flying on the back of the beast. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this.” She suddenly laughed and shook her head, as if she thought she was in a dream.

* * * * *

Mark smiled at Lindsey, she really was the kind of woman most men would have trouble not staring at. “I cannot speak for the Empress Gehenna, but I am sure she would be willing to receive a visit from an Ambassador of Avelona.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not sure how we would get word to you, but I’m sure something could be arranged as you obviously to not have satellites or other such forms of telecommunication.”

He frowned as he thought then spoke again. “As for what satellites are, they are a means of transporting pictures or sound from space, allowing people to communicate or see or whatever else they want to do with them. I think it is something easier to explain with a diagram.” He grabbed a pen, and drew a rough diagram on a piece of paper to show how they basically worked.

"Hrmm."
K'Harkan taps a long finger against his nose, looking to Schiopetti, one eyebrow raised.
The woman nods, face professionally blank, turning to the Avelonans she turns one hand palm up, and taps at a device on her wrist. The device pops up a gently rotating tube of colour and the Major smiles, slightly, before beginning to speak. "It seems, Colonel, that you've fallen down the physics rabbithole that is our particular location in the Multiverse." She points gently at the tube, a cylinder made up of a spiralling rainbow pattern.
"This is our demonstration model of Space/Time. It's a rough and clumsy thing, and doesn't show the gradations a'twixt dimensions very well at all, but it does serve to demonstrate the general idea, i.e. that history is cyclic, and of differing realities running side by side. Oh, the differing colours represent differing realities. Sorry."
She taps a button on the device around her wrist, and the view of the cylinder zooms to a portion roughly in the middle, where it looks as though someone has spilt water on the display, causing the colours to merge and blur.
"This is the locus, more commonly referred to as Ns. Time-tracks that move through here have a chance of being blurred and merging with one an other in this locus and this is probably what's happened to you. It seems to be completely random and is rather disturbingly common."
She looks abstracted a moment, causing K'Harkan to clear his throat gently.
Schiopetti jumps slightly, and blushes.
"Sorry. Um. Also, due to the weak nature of the local fabric of reality, it's also easy for mages to move things to here. Equipment, monsters, people. Reality here is as strong as wet paper, fortunately for us, because it's how we came here."
She frowns, brow wrinkling prettily. "I'm unsure how much help that was, do ask if it was unclear and if there's anything more you need to know.."

NSS Eclipse (S.C.V.N. 10)

The Combat Intelligence Center was brimming with commotion as men and women scurried around boxes and other personnel. Usually a very dark room, illuminated only by the lights of the dozens of flat panels and overhead displays around the room, the room was now filled by the white glow of the ceiling’s fluorescent lights. At one end of the hexagonal room, was dominated by a large seamless Battlespace screen. Instead of showing tactical data that had been analyzed by the ship’s CI, the entire length of the screen showed hundreds of windows and statistics. A large window that lay in the center of the screen showed diagram of a satellite and a globe within a large red slashed circle. The technicians had been debugging the entire system, in conjunction with the Intel crews aboard all the other vessels, in order to get the fleet reconnected to Fleetnet.

Suddenly something sparked at the satellite workstation and the entire CIC went dark. Several obscene curses erupted from one end of the room as the lights came back online two seconds later.

“I think I’ve got it,” said the officer from the malfunctioning workstation.

As the lights came back online, the small diagram in the center of the Battlespace screen flashed and the slashed circle turned green to a regular circle. A series of groans and sighs erupted from within the room as men and women looked wearily up at the screen. Lieutenant Daniel Fowles emerged from the SatCom station and wiped the sweat from his brow. Fowles, the Eclipse’s intel boss, had finally worked through the mass amounts of code Shelly, the crew’s nickname for the Eclipse’s Combat Intelligence, was dumping into the system. What he had to solve now was why Shelly had closed down the satellite uplink and taken them on a wild rush across the Pacific. If they were still in the Pacific, he thought to himself. As Fowles made for the door, a ping from his flexipad stopped him.

---

Admiral Lee took the data stick that had been placed on his desk by the two reporters. It didn’t matter now anyways. The whole place would soon be swarming with reporters and scientists of all sorts. These girls would just be the ones to break the news. Oh well, he thought in his head, as he focused his attention to a flashing icon on his screen. While he was talking to the reporters from the 110th Marine Regiment, his IT personnel had fixed the satellite uplink and that they were now online. He tapped the data slate imbedded into his desk and called up Lieutenant Fowles down in CIC.

“Good evening Admiral. We have already repaired the satellite uplink.” said a small virtual image of Fowles that had appeared on top of the desk.

“Yes, good job on that. It was about time. I was just about to call you for a status report, but it seems you had already finished.”

“Even though we have all systems running smoothly now, we still need to find out what caused this crash.”

“I see.” Admiral Lee had opened up his Inbox and saw dozens of priority one messages from the admiralty and the Naval Command Center. “When is the latest you can get everything sorted through?”

“Probably by noon tomorrow,” said Fowles.

“You’ve got till nine tomorrow morning. I have to turn in an extensive report on this.”

“Acknowledged, the report will be in your hands by nine. For now, I will be relocating back to my section to continue a closer analysis on this problem. The CIC crew can handle everything here.”

Lee closed the connection and stared back at his desk. No report had come back from Captain Yui on those dragons and their riders. He stuck Hart’s data stick into his data slate. Tapping on the folder labeled ‘dragons’, several images taken from cameras built into flexipads showed blurry images of dragons and their riders. But one image stood out from the rest. It was a clear picture taken from a ship beside the Nagazuki. It showed the flight of dragons hovering over what appeared to be Captain Yui and a dozen of the Nagazuki’s security detail. He closed the folder and placed the data stick into his desk. He had a lot of work to do, trying to sort out the mess of priority messages that had flooded his Inbox. As a side thought, he sent a message to CIC and told them to cut off the uplink that connected the embedded reporters onboard the Spearhead to the satellites. We just can’t handle anymore problems with the press, thought Lee as he prepared messages for the captains onboard the other ships in the fleet.

A new message had popped up on his screen. In it was a map that pointed out that the fleet was now floating in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

---

NSS Nagazuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

The area Rilken waved to was automatically highlighted in yellow. Alexandra was just about to reply to Rilken that she did not know, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. The VR Globe within the Officer’s Lounge flickered as the ship’s CI refreshed the satellite data. At the same time, he flexipad let off a ping, signaling to her that she had received a message.

She excused herself from the group of riders and moved to the side. Alexandra opened up the message and saw that it was a video feed from Admiral Lee. Alexandra minimized the 3D image into a small window and switched to her nanomachines to transmit her voice over the uplink, to keep from distracting her visitors.

“Good evening, Admiral. It seems you have the blackout situation under control,” said Alexandra calmly in her head. At the admiral’s end, Alexandra’s voice rang out loud and clear as if she were speaking in the room.

The admiral nodded. “Good evening, Yui. My intel boss still has to sort out the root of the problem. And I’m guessing it has something to do with the satellite rather than the ship’s code.”

“But it must have been something so big that your CI had to take control of the ship and the other ships of the fleet.”

“Maybe it has something to do with your visitors?”

“I’m not sure, sir.” Alexandra took a quick glance at Rilken and her fellow riders. “These people aren’t from here. And they don’t appear to have the technological backing to carry out a fleet wide blackout.”

While Alexandra was busy conversing with Admiral Lee, the VR Globe had begun to change and add things. The computer automatically omitted foreign satellites and only showed the small representations of Noir’s low orbit satellites, the globe shrank to fit the ratio. The virtual satellites would disappear and reappear as its orbit ran through a rider’s head. The globe shrank again showing higher orbiting satellites and their relationship to the moon. A large space station sat high in geosynchronous orbit above Noir’s last remaining city on Terra. The globe returned to its previous size then displayed the location of the fleet before the blackout with a red dot and its previous route with a thin red line. The VR Globe flicked for the second time and an interrupted red line showed the fleet’s course and its current location in the middle of the Indian Ocean, thousands of miles away from it’s last reported location. A pop-up window separated itself from the globe and displayed a virtual image of the twenty five vessels of the 5th Expeditionary Fleet floating in the middle of the ocean.

“I was just hypothesizing, captain. Now I believe you have some people to take care of.” The admiral nodded towards the group behind Alexandra through the screen and cut the link.

Alexandra slid the flexipad back into its holder at her waist and turned to the visitors who were now staring at the globe.

“It seems that you have your answer,” Alexandra said calmly, repressing her feeling of surprise as she saw the fleet’s current location.

(OOC: Don't think I've forgotten. I was just busy.)

Innocent BUMP, even though I might fill this spot with a post sooner or later.

Northwest (Gehenna)

Matthew smiled. “Do not worry. I will have him take it easy, since none of us brought extra riding belts, and we cannot fasten you on properly.” He considered for a moment, and decided, given the state of dress the woman had first appeared in, that it would not be unacceptable to put his arm around her waist.

He was fast, but not that fast, if she started to fall, and it would not do to drop her in the ocean, especially from height – where water was just as hard as the ground. Unlike a horse, there were no reins or other manner of tack, just the wide leather straps which he fastened to his riding belt. “Take us for a ride, Shadowreaver.”

The dragon’s head bobbed, out of respect for the woman who could not hear his silent conversation with his rider, and the slight motion of his wings suddenly turned into a powerful downstroke, swiftly lifting them away from the deck and the water.

In short order, the rather large watercraft had become no more than a speck coverable with one’s hand, as the other dragons swirled about the two riding, though keeping some amount of distance to keep from startling the somewhat skittish Tartarian.

Smirking behind Kathy’s head, Lord Gawain smiled at what he knew was next to come, and laughed aloud as the smoky grey dragon pulled its wings back and dropped like a missile towards the boat holding the four other people involved in this mid-ocean rendezvous.

* * * * * *

Lady Lindsey watched in fascination as the diagram was presented, and blinked when she finally realized he meant something outside of the atmosphere. Where the stars were.

From his explanation, it was perfectly clear why Avelona had never considered developing such a thing, though. Long range communications had never been an issue for them. Sealed letters that could be teleported, people that could be teleported between warded centres, and other magical methods precluded the need for a technological solution. “It is an interesting concept, for sure. I suppose they must be made from metal, though. That must get terribly expensive.”

West (Steelhaven)

My Lord, do I go aboard?

Ask if we can all go. I do not want you alone aboard that… whatever it is.

Aye, Colonel. Squeezing her knees slightly together, she urged her weyrvn closer to the odd thing, sending it spiralling inward, allowing her to project her voice more easily to the woman aboard the… might as well call it a vessel. “Might we all come aboard? We can land one at a time, if necessary.”

Southwest (Britmattia)

Colonel Dantoña frowned. “I am not sure I have the learning to understand that of which you speak, though I am sure that there are those who can, back at home. Perhaps someone can explain this there.” He looked at his men, and saw the same lack on their faces.

But he saw something else as well – a knowledge that he shared. “But we can never go home, can we?”

Southeast (-Noir-)

The images where intriguing, to say the least, so the riders were, in fact, watching the globe closely. That is not to say they were ‘staring’, per se, of course.

It was obviously quite a powerful bit of magic, but Rilken smiled more easily. The captain, at her young age, was obviously not the person behind it, as it changed as the captain’s attention was directed… elsewhere. It was, it appeared, a warded magic that the captain had merely learned to activate. That made her feel immensely better as she silently explained her conclusion to her wingriders.

Basing her decision off what she knew of her own world, she loosely recognized the location of the fleet as it finally came up and Captain Yui spoke. “I see,” was all she said, physically having to move around the globe to see the location where she thought Avelona was. After a moment, she reached out and drew a line on the globe, less than startled to see it follow her this time. Guessing the scale off the size of the continents she recognized, she stopped it about eight hundred miles to the Northwest of the fleet’s location.

“Avelona should be roughly here, then, given how long we were airborne.”

As she climbed on the Dragon, Kathy once again wondered if she had left her sanity behind. Here she was in the middle of the ocean, about to ride a beast of fantasy, with a man who had literally fallen out of the sky and landed on their boat. She looked back briefly, seeing Mark lost in thought as he spoke to one of the other strangers.

Having made herself comfortable and feeling oddly safe in the embrace of the man seated behind her, Kathy took a deep breath as they rose into the sky, her eyes focusing upward as her hands gripped tightly to the dragon. She shivered involuntarily, unsure of the cause. She began to relaxed, began to let her gaze wander, even risking a look down, seeing the boat far below. Her fingers tightened their hold, as she nestled closer against Matthew’s body.

“This is…um….this is wonderful,” she managed to stutter as she watched the other dragons flying around them. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screamed, as the dragon suddenly dropped through the sky, her hands clenched tightly, her eyes firmly closed.

* * * * *

Mark smiled, unable to really grasp the concept that the woman before him had little to no idea about the modern world. “Well, getting satellites up into space is quite an expensive procedure, despite the fact that it is made of metal.” He wished he had a way of showing her things that would make everything seem clear. “Of course, the cost is easily outweighed by the services they provide, from communication to information.”

He paused in thought for a moment. “I might be able to get you more information on the concept, but I think you can grasp the general idea.” After all, despite their lack of knowledge about such things, he was more than certain he was not dealing with a bunch of idiots.

NSS Nagazuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

“I see. East Africa?” asked Alexandra. She retraced the line Rilken drew on the globe. If we’re in the Indian Ocean, then… Rilken’s line stopped in the middle of the blue area signifying the ocean, but right off the coast of Somalia. “Exactly how far did you think you travel from your original location? This fleet is currently smack-dab in the middle of the Indian Ocean, one thousand miles away in all directions from the nearest landmass. The closest, as you can see here is East Africa. You mentioned earlier that your country of Avelona comprises up of Europe and Africa, am I correct?”

Alexandra waved her hand over the two continents of Europe and Africa, each turned red. Her internal nanomachines had connected with the wireless uplink of the globe projector. The previous lack of satellite communication had automatically switched globe into a sort of screen saver mode that simply displayed an archived image of Terra. With direct satellite uplink back online, the globe reverted to its original tactical setting that allowed the use of the standard military nanomachines as a type of remote.

“These whole areas here have no record of a country named Avelona.” She waved her hand over the entire area again. As she did black lines began to form within the red continents. Within seconds these lines had formed the political boundaries of each respective nation on the two continents. “See these lines? They form the boundaries of the many hundreds of countries that exist on these two continents.” With another wave of the hand minuscule letters began to show within each country, the letters forming the names of each of the countries. “None of these countries bear the name of Avelona.”

I guess these people might just have been lost. Could they have imported dragons from a different planet? Breeding programs? Actually, we can easily create dragons by programming nanomachines. Just like the way we create ships. Alexandra could have made hundreds of rational explanations to explain these dragons, but the riders were the greatest mystery. Someone could easily lie about their whereabouts, but my scans show no increase in any signs showing that they are actually lying. No increase in heart rate, or pupil dilation, but this isn’t exactly an interrogation. They could be some very well trained actors. Oh well.

This is a blatant bump. Everyone come back!

The table and chairs are of assorted wood, some pices of furniture light, some dark. Clean smells, everything worked at - it seems like there are plenty of very thorough servants around somewhere, or just neat freaks - over by Patrick, Hendrik did do some quick scrubbing of a cutting board that didn't meet some exacting standard of his.

"Mm... it's in the wrist I suppose." The dark man pauses. Thinks briefly, inclines his head. "Excuse me." Then he turns slightly away, takes a crab step, and moves the knife in the air at a deliberately safe angle. Smootg flow, twitch, a chuckle. "I never think of these things... yes, look, it's in the wrist, and control from shoulder. Thanks for teaching that, Aunt Bel." Hendrik looks quietly happy, clearly remembering something.

To a trained swordsman it's clear that there's admirable economy of motion at work here, but really not that much more than you'd expect from a good cook. Then a poor vegetable like a large radish is turned into leaf thin slices, blade moving with blurred speed, flick under a faucet, water flicked into sink, knife through cloth stuck in belt (to an Avelonan it will hardly be obvious that this man takes childish pleasure in samurai movies) and slipped into knife block, all with fluid grace.

At the table Thandi's taken the first edge off her hunger, eating quickly, neatly and a lot. She turns to Andrew, perhaps still a bit nervous. "Captain, something struck me as I showered." A pause. "I'm a pilot." A quick cough from Hendrik. "Ah, not a... steersman? I pilot aircraft like you saw, except made for combat. And you're a dragonrider. A rider of dragons."

There's wonder in the words. She's intent on him, interested.

"Will you confuse me, Captain Finborne? What's it like?"

Northwest (Gehenna)

Shadowreaver snapped his wings back out to their full extension, catching the air once more, abruptly slowing their descent, arcing them out over the water, passing within twenty feet of the roof of the boat’s cabin. The descent continued, of course – he was moving too fast for it to do otherwise.

Skimming the surface of the swells, he extended his forelegs ahead of his shoulders and dipped his talons into the water. Glittering spray burst into the air, white against his smoky grey form. The spray hitting the underside of his neck and chest was cooling and relaxing, but he dared not give in too much…

He curled his claws back as the other dragons joined him at surface level as the slow turn he had been involved in pointed them once more at the white boat bobbing gently in the ocean.

The dragons dropped back into wing echelon formation and roared as they zoomed in on the boat, demonstrating just one more reason why they would be effective in combat. The roar of the dragons was a deep, bass cry, reverberating deep inside their massive bodies, rattling the bones of those aboard them and nearby. The cry of the weyrvns, though not much smaller, was far harsher. The high pitched sound could only be described as a scream, a loud, penetrating scream that pressed in on the ears and at the back of the eyes.

An earlier Emperor of Avelona had once described the sound as the raking of a dragon’s talons across slate mixed with the wails of a cat being skinned alive, accompanied by tyro on the bagpipes. Only louder.

Southeast (-Noir-)

Rilken watched the globe, almost glaring at the lines as they appeared. She, fortunately, knew better than to give away any sort of tactically valuable information in a setting such as this, so she was intentionally vague. “Given the average speed of our dragons and the amount of time we spent airborne, I would put an upper limit of about 800 miles on how far we could have flown.” She studied the image a moment longer, then frowned.

“I do not see how any of those nations could be there,” she waved at both Europe and Africa. “All of the North,” she pointed to Europe, “belonged to the Empire, and south of the deserts was nothing but scattered tribes, nomads, and raiders.”

While lacking in technical knowledge, Laura was most assuredly not stupid. “You did something earlier… something that updated how the image appeared. Can you do it again, to the whole thing? Maybe I’ll be able to see Avelona.”

North (The Territory)

While the Avelonans are hungry, they, for some reason, slow down their eating soon after they finish the first few bites of food. They are not picking at it by any means, and it is obvious that they are enjoying it, but it is almost as if they remembered their table manners all of a sudden.

Which, in a sense, is precisely what happened.

None of them were precisely unskilled swordsmen, but knives were looked at variously in Avelona. At the best, they were backup, secondary, or even last resort weapons. At the worst, it was the symbol of the thief and cutpurse. In general, military personnel had a greater respect for the short blade than did the civilian. Patrick, for a one, as shown by his curiosity, was fascinated by knives and short blades of all types. Unfortunately, his dagger would make a poor substitute for what Hendrik was up to – the crossguard would definitely get in the way.

Meanwhile, Prince Andrew sat quietly, facing Thandi, his fork resting empty in his hand as he considered how best to explain to her. It was a short moment, but there was an obvious pause before he spoke. “What is it like to ride a dragon? If I told you it is the best feeling in the whole world, you probably would not believe me, but it is, really. Somehow, I get the feeling that is not the answer you are looking for, though.” He smiled gently.

“I saw a few small sailing boats as we approached, so I suppose you have felt the wind and the spray, and how refreshing that feels at speed.” His eyes drift half closed before opening again and meeting Thandi’s. “Have you ever ridden a horse, Lieutenant? And not just gone hacking. I mean truly ridden, leaning down with the horse’s neck and giving your mount its head, a thundering gallop across an open field, feeling the muscles straining under you, the unleashed power.” The Prince smiled rakishly, remembering multiple occasions where he has obviously done just that. “Think of both those things, and think of how I am sure you must feel when you fly, the freedom of the sky all around you, and that is only part of what it is like to ride a dragon.”

Finally managing to open her eyes, Kathy was surprised to find them so close to the swell of the sea. Small splashes of sea water sprayed against her face, reminding her suddenly of some theme park ride. She had left the scream far above them, and now the soft laughter of fun escaped from her lips. Her body grew less tense, as she took a moment to look around her at the other dragons that had joined the air show.

She was just growing comfortable with the ride, when they turned and headed towards the boat, watching it coming in fast. Her hands shot up to her eyes as the beasts screeched, causing her to almost lose her balance.

“What is that noise for?” Kathy tried to shout over the sound, hearing herself better as she once more grabbed for the hold she had had on the animal. “Is something wrong?” Her voice quivered with panic.

* * * * *

From his vantage point on board the boat, Mark looked out of the window in time to see the dragon formation heading towards them. The sound of the animals filled the air, loud and not very pleasant to his ears.

“Your beasts are very impressive. And it must be nice to have a craft that can fly itself if something should happen to the pilot.” He looked at Lady Lindsey. “Having not seen more of your people, except for you and your fellows, and your dragons, I have to ask, what is your technology based upon? I can’t help conjuring up images of longbows and catapults.” He grinned.

Northwest of the Emerald City (Neo-Tiburon)

Donovan Potter smiled as the man stammered out an explanation. “Citizens or not, you caused damage to Imperial Property, and you are unauthorized representatives of a foreign power equipped with a higly destructive device. If the Emperor so chose, he could consider you to be a, albeit small, invasion force.” The man grinned and his dragon roared behind him.

“In which case, he would be well within his rights to have you killed.” Potter smiled at the fear this likely produced, then chuckled. “It seems unlikely, though. Summon your official representatives, though, and tell them to meet us in Camelor, in the Emerald City. As soon as you have done that, we will mount up and depart for the castle.”

Noriyama pressed buttons on a keypad- presumably sending information to the Tiburonese government- and then followed Patel, Nately, and Potter to the Emerald City, riding a large reptile. Not a good start for the three- although it probably brought some amusement to Potter.

In tandem, an unarmed government ship entered the atmosphere, and drifted its way down slowly to the Emerald City. Deliberately slowly- it was intended that the craft actually touch down by the time the three had made it to the city and the rest of this nation's defense forces would have known about the arrival.

Northwest (Gehenna)

Matthew laughed as he felt Kathy’s tenseness. “Nothing to worry about. I agree that the sound is unpleasant, but,” a somewhat harsh smile crossed the face his passenger could not see, “it does help make them more effective in combat.”

It took a brief moment for him to realize how this last statement might be taken, considering the way the dragons were swooping in on the boat undoubtedly looked like an attack vector to inexperienced eyes. Which was only fair, given that under different circumstances, that is exactly what it would have been. The angle adjusted with a slight command from the Avelonan lord to the four dragons and they swept by the boat in a rush of air, the displacement probably enough to for those on the white craft to feel it.

“As I said, nothing to worry about. They roar all the time.”

* * * * * *

Lindsey laughed softly, then in a motion that was obviously practiced many times, swiftly drew her pistol from low on her thigh. The weapon rode there, just as it did for cavalry, so that it could be accessed (and for comfort) while riding, instead of having the grip bunched against one’s side. A quick motion reversed the fairly large caliber weapon in her hand, extending it butt first to Mark. “We have not used longbows for many a year, at least not in the Guard. And catapults are worse than useless against a warded castle.”

The Emerald City (Neo-Tiburon)

Camelor Castle, seat of the Empire of Avelona, was bloody huge. Or, at least, that would no doubt be the first thought of someone seeing it for the first time. What they probably failed to realize, of course, was that the wall they had passed four miles before actually delineated the castle’s grounds, at least away from the city.

Massive, beautiful gardens lined the inside of that first wall, sculpted in such as way as to look almost natural, gently rolling up hills to the first of the primary walls of the castle. The towering edifice of the curtain wall was a hundred feet high and nearly sixty feet thick at the bottom. Two thousand yards of what was obviously a killing field in a time of war separated that wall from the even larger one that was the next ring in. Beyond that, at a comparable distance, lay Camelor itself, the tallest spire of the rookery reaching a thousand feet into the air.

The four dragons, out of habit, naturally made for home. Lord Potter grinned and shook his head. Sableclaw, tell the others to land in the courtyard, if they please.

Of course, Donovan.

Sweeping downward, the huge beasts of the Pendragon Guards swept by the even more massive stone form of the Pendragon itself, curled along three of the four sides of Camelor’s protective wall, its fierce obsidian gaze looking outwards over the main gate.

The ‘courtyard’ was more of a pavilion, or perhaps a forum, with sufficient room for a full regiment to drill. As Donovan’s eyes found the colors, though, he concluded that only the six hundred men of the Second Battalion, First Regiment, the Emperor’s Own Rifle Guards were present in the courtyard under drill. Which gave the Pendragon Guards command flight more than enough room to land.

Once they and their guests were dismounted, Potter turned to his wingriders. “Seamus, go find the Lord Chamberlain. We need a meeting with the Emperor at his earliest convenience. Melody, David, take our guests to the Grey Parlor. I will find the Duty Officer and brief him as to what is coming.” His gaze softened slightly when he turned it on the dragons. “You four, avoid the Second of the First.”

A scrape of claw and rush of wind saw the four dragons airborne, seeking spots on the curtain wall two hundred feet overhead. As Donovan watched them settle onto the Pendragon, he wondered once more if the legends about it were indeed true.

The Grey Parlor, where Lord Gaheris had sent the two weyrvn riders and the Tiburonese, was just that, and was not located very far inside the castle. At least, not from the door they entered by. The effect was a very subdued room, in multiple shades of grey with white and black highlights sprinkled throughout it. In the solid black riding leathers of the Pendragon Guards, relieved only by the golden stylized dragons over the right breast, the two riders looked extremely forboding.

Which was no doubt the intended affect.

It was not much later when Donovan escorted the other Tiburonese representatives, those newly arrived, into the Grey Parlor as well. Seamus returned a moment after he did, and murmured to his commander. “His Majesty will see us and the foreigners in thirty minutes, in Arthur’s Throne Room.”

The Colonel nodded slowly. “We have ten minutes, then,” he replied, glancing at the clock. “Why do we not find out who everyone is, then?” The last was addressed to the newcomers.

[OOC: I don't think I can really do much until we reach port.]

NSS Nagazuki (A.C.G.N. 9)

“I was just about to do just that,” said Alexandra as she boxed the portion of Europe and North Africa with the tip of her finger. The squared off area expanded and separated itself from the massive globe, which in turn shrank and disappeared as the square area formed a three-dimensional cut out of the cordoned part of the globe and hovered horizontally at about waist height. It was about two or three in the morning around that part of the globe, but what struck Alexandra by surprise was the lack of city lights that would have been visible. She had already turned on the weather filter to remove the clouds and other weather anomalies in the area. However, none of the major cities in Europe and North Africa continents were visible on the map.

“That’s odd.” Alexandra waved her hand over the map to refresh it. “The settings are all correct.” She isolated London by drawing a box around that portion of southern England with her index and thumb. The small square was then magnified, but the entire portion that should have comprised up of tall skyscrapers, crisscrossing highways and skyways, and many illuminated monuments were replaced by thatched houses, sprawling stone castles, and large green plains along the Thames.

“I don’t understand this at all. What’s happened? Where’s the Tower of London and the Parliament Buildings?” A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck. Someone must be messing around with the picture. Alexandra composed herself and walked over to a dais that rose up behind the seating area. “Is this place familiar to you? Because this city, we call London, looks nothing like this.”

To emphasize her point, Alexandra moved her hands swiftly over the floating display atop the dais to bring up a three-dimensional image of present day London over the image of the thatched houses and castles.

“This is London as we know it. There must have been some mistake in the previous picture.”

OOC: bump...

Kathy released her hands from over her ears, growing slightly more used to the sound. Her eyes were wide as they swept down towards the boat, already seeing them crashing into the while object that only moments before seemed so far away. Her breath caught as they whooshed over the top of it, able to see the people onboard, if only for a moment, before they were once more behind them.

“I can imagine how the sound and image would put off your enemies,” Kathy stated, as she finally began to grow a little calmer. “I remember watching as you approached the boat, scared me half to death.” She smiled to herself, feeling a little foolish, but she was sure that Matthew would understand how it would look to someone who had never seen dragons before.

She let her gaze fall upon their companions, her eyes taking in the beasts for the first time. “They truly are magnificent. How did your people come to know that they could work with the dragons. I think I would have been more concerned about them turning me into toast.” She paused. “Do you know what toast is?”

* * * * *

Mark looked at the gun and laughed, taking it from Lady Lindsey. “Like I said, you gave the impression of using bows and arrows.” He took the weapon and ran his eyes over it. “Of course, technology has a habit of moving on and at the same time leaving some things appearing to be from the past.” He motioned out of the window towards the dragons.

“Although, from your questions, I believe that not all your technology is that advanced. Of course, there are other things available that I have not thought about. People who manage to ride dragons and to get them to do what you want, must have something up their sleeves.


[ooc: Noir, please don’t keep bumping the thread when there is a slight delay. We know it has to be posted to, we just have lives that sometimes get in the way.]

"Hn."

Thandi's stopped eating, while the other Territorials pretty much echo the Avelonans in slowing their eating to a slower, more deliberate pace. It still looks a lot like gluttony though. Hendrik's keeping up the good work at the counter, and slowing slightly for Patrick's benefit at times. "Showoff cook" seems to to cover most of his behavior. Most of it.

"Hn. Heh."

Thandi leans back in her chair, smiling faintly, eyes half closed. Ther's a brief lizard-like flicker in her eyes, nictating membranes moving, a sudden bit of nonhumanity.

"It's an... extension. There's a spirit in the plane, the flying machine. They say it was there even when they flew with mechanics, pulling levers, feeling the air. With a Falcon, you're part of the weapon and of your squadron, even more than with a Flitterwing like you saw though that's a joy to fly. You're in the bones of the plane, you ride the drive, the senses. The drones are there and you can feel them too, see through them, and yes you've claws and fangs. Heh."

Beat. "I suppose it's totally different from what you experience. And maybe I talked too much, but it seems we do have some things in common at least. Heh. Even if that's as military airmen rather than as Avelonan and Territorial. Maybe we should work on finding out what those words mean?"

Sciopetti grimaces, shooting a worried look at K'Harkan, who waves understandingly at her before he responds to Dantoña.
"No Colonel, I'm afraid it's unlikely you will ever go home again. Ns is a reality well, the only way one gets out of a well is with a rope lowered from elsewhere."
He sighs and flexes his hands frustratedly.
"I'm sorry. We came to this world by choice, but I am old enough to remember the world our people came from before that. I understand your loss and commiserate. On my personal word have it that all the Kingdom can do, will be done. Our King may not share your loss, but he will understand it."
He smiles sadly.
"After all, we are similar no? You are kin to the Kingdom in a sense, and never has the Kingdom failed Kin. If our mages confirm the rather depressing prognosis I have given you, we will help you to adjust, to reach technological parity with the locals, offer what aide we can."
A brief smile.
"While this world is not yours, it does have it's advantages and slight compensations for your loss."