The Flight of the Meriwether: A Steampunk Outlaw RP (Closed)

[Dancingman]

Sam got a quick look at the eccentric company, a man calling himself "Duke" in addition to this Callista lady he had already encountered. He nodded solemnly at Harvey's instructions. "I ain't no man to cause trouble" replies Sam with a nod. He steps by the large fellow and acquaints himself with the folks, from a visual perspective anyhow. Captain Gideon is there obviously, a slick-looking fellow in a suit and tie with a distinctive hat, reminds Sam of the men who used to come by his neighborhood as a kid selling "cure all" tonics. Dad said they often made for a decent drink but a poor medicine. There's a rather odd-looking individual in a mask with a bit of an odd voice to mask. Sam had in fact, seen stranger, but this certainly was a contender for the title, not that it much bothered him.

Sam found his way to a seat and table near the middle of the action and sat himself down, having poured himself a glass of whiskey from the salesman's store. Sam drew out a couple seats located next to his own on the table, looking around the room to see if there were any takers. Fingering his large travel bag slightly, he put it on his seat and hung up his coat on the rack in the corner of the room, now clad in a white undershirt with the black vest over it. He scratches his beard slightly and takes some cursory sips of his drink, the whiskey is strong but not as much as he typically likes it.

He approaches Captain Gideon with a bit of a grin on his face. "Well I'll be damned, come all this way and I've finally found Cap'n Gideon. It has been quite a time since last we met, then again I hav'nt been to Richmond since our fateful meeting there, as it would seem, by the favor of Providence, I am to repay that debt I owe to you", Sam extends his hand cordially, always having had a handshake of quite a hearty strength.

 

[blaze96]

Samuel nodded as he walked passed Harvey, a silent agreement he wouldn't cause any trouble, before taking his seat. He looked around the room to the odd company it would seem he would be expected to take care of as the ship's doctor, they certainly seemed interesting.

"I think I'll have to respectfully decline a drink, I would prefer to keep a clear head myself." Samuel responded to Gideon's offer, his thick Bostonian accent permeating every word from behind his plague mask. He moved his ever present medical bag so that he could be slightly more comfortable in the chair, opting to keep the Henry on his back however, if he took it off it would be one more step before he could fight back if he needed to.

 

[CounterAttack]

Callista nodded silently to the guy who was checking off names, unwilling to speak, and entered the room after collecting her suitcase from the floor. With it in hand she slipped past Harvey and joined the group surrounding the man whom she assumed was Captain McClellan. Callista made herself visible by placing herself slightly away from the others, but still near Gideon. Once again unwilling to speak unless she was specifically spoken to, she maintained her silence, feeling a little uncomfortable with the smoke and the heat of the VIP lounge.

The thought of taking off her jacket occurred to her, but Callista didn't want to for fear of being asked a lot of questions about what was underneath it. Then her arm hissed audibly - to her, at least - and a puff of steam shot out of the gap between the end of her sleeve and the glove covering her hand.

 

[Nukey]

The Journal of James Black - Entry One​

It is within the corners of the most unlikely places you would find legends being made, every day a miracle being preformed away from the gaze of the "common" man, the word common being synonymous with dim-witted in this instance. In the shadows is where you'll find the assassinations being planned, the conspirators scheming or the murderers eagerly waiting their next kill, but, yet, no one cares to turn on the lights. Is it that people are simply too scared to look into the veils of darkness in fear of finding what horrors might await them or is that, despite their awareness to the issue, the mystery excites them so greatly they intentionally chose to stay ignorant? In my own thoughts, after observing humanity for so long, it is simply a case of ignorance, where they chose to turn a blind eye to the problems of their world due to a lack of care.

It is this answer that disgusts me. This a world full of magnificence and wonder, of both great beauty and dread, yet so many of those, healthy enough to see it all if they wished, voluntarily chose to restrict themselves and never so much as experience true excitement at least once in their short lives.

It matters little, though, as I rarely interact with such people, myself being one of those recluses hidden within the shadows, the time of writing myself I am an indeed making my own, grand plans. In but a few moments, I while be accounting myself with the famous Captain McClellan and volunteering to join his crew, if only for yet another thrill in life.

I am unsure of what awaits, but, regardless of what may happen, I will use this opportunity as best I can.

-Ong Thiam Oetomo​

A heavy sigh echoed from within the mask covering James' face as he closed his journal, tucking it inside a brown rucksack as he waited his chance to introduce himself to his future captain. His metallic form was nestled within the corner of the cantina, his eyes carefully observing the small crowd gathering outside the VIP room where Gideon was located. James took this time to examine the other soldiers, scanning over their features carefully and taking note of the way they presented themselves, and was unimpressed.

"Rabble. Unpolished, disgusting rabble..." He muttered underneath his breath, his words reverberating throughout his helmet. "Twisted abominations of metal and flesh, a witch doctor traveling the road of false gods and bandits wishing to line their pockets with silver. These are to be my coworkers? Bah, if I'm lucky Gideon will use them as nothing more than meat shields..."

A thick cloud of smoke shot out from the exhaust of James' armor as he lifted himself up from his seat, slowly working his way towards the doorman at the other end of the room. The air surrounding was filled with a disturbing silence as the patrons made way for him to move, only being penetrated by the faint sounds of gears moving within his armor. He reached Harvey, thanks to his threatening, metal figure, without much issue.

"James Black, possibly Ong Thiam Oetomo." He said. "I assume one of those names is on your list?"

 

[Icarion (aka Stockholm)]

Saul's practised ears picked up the familiar accent of his home state. He stood up, his business concluded, his cargo offloaded. He walked over and stuck his hand out to the masked doctor.

"Saul Radhanite, native of the great city of Boston. How about them Sox? Best baseball team on the planet in my opinion"

 

[blaze96]

"Samuel Garland, and the Sox are the only team worth anything in the league. Nice to meet another native of Boston this far west. You here to join McClellan's crew, or just plying your wares to the backroom?" Samuel responded as he shook the man's hand.

 

[Icarion (aka Stockholm)]

"A pleasure Doctor Garland. Always nice to find a Sox fans, especially out here. All their interested in is their local teams. Don't have the sense to see that they need a broader perspective. And I've never heard of this Gideon fellow before today. I'm just a merchant plying his wares. Speaking of which, you in the market for medical supplies? I think I have a few bottles of Morphine in my inventory."

 

[blaze96]

"No no, I have my own supplies thank you. I have more than enough medical supplies for anything that should happen in between either being accepted or going back to my office in Boston. I'm sure there would be others on the ship who need things, may as well see if you can't tag along. Could always use a fellow Bostonian on the ship anyway." Samuel replied.

 

[Icarion (aka Stockholm)]

"Aye. The only thing better than one Bostonian is two. I think I'll ask the Captain. I've never had the pleasure to ply my wares on a ship. Hmmmm... Could be intereesting. Excuse me" Saul walked back over to the Captain. "Excuse me Captain, I wish to speak to you about that whiskey."

 

[NeoAC]

Claire sat on her trunk as the rush of people came into the sleepy bar. The door in the back seemed to be the place to be as everyone was heading back there. It was being presided over by one of her brothers, which was a good sign. Even if this Gideon fellow wasn't showing, at least she would be in good company.

She dragged her belongings towards the back door and stood next to what appeared to be an Asian man. "Excusez-moi, mon frere," she asked the man. "You would not happen to know a Monsieur Gideon, around here? I got this letter from him and he tells me to come here, but I do not see him around. Do you know if he is a good man? Can I trust him?"

 

[The Zango]

"Can we *Tick* dispense with the useless pleasantries. Get to the job *Tick* offer" rasped Karl impatiently from the place he'd taken in the corner of the room, a position he'd taken so he could keep his back to a wall and see all the goings on in the room, plus, it removed him from the socialization somewhat.

 

[Lizmichi]

Lia had walked into the VIP room and took a seat by her self wanting to watch the rest of the group closly. "Lia Baird reporting." she said simply not really feeling like talking much. She knew she was in the right place and that's all that mattered.

 

[Captainguy42]

Ken decided to become a bit more social and joined everyone, this change in attitude was in no small part thanks to the offer of booze, and that Karl had moved to the back and was leaning against the same wall he was. Ken grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the crate and poured himself a glass. Ken took a sip to get an impression, it was whiskey alright and it was clean, so he was happy.

" Names Ken, Ken Aloys, that's A-L-O-Y-S." He spelled before taking another sip, " I'm from wherever I jus' was and now I'm here so how long til' we can get ta' talkin' business."

 

[blaze96]

"Ah, but I think we all already know the job offer my ticking friend. Why else would the man call us all here at the same time? He wants to hire us, for various reasons I'm sure. I think what we all wish to know though is, how will he entice us to work for him?" Samuel said as friendly as possible while, in his boredom, he opened his medical bag and began to look over the contents. He checked levels of medicine and amounts of the supplies he currently had with him.

 

[socialtangent]

Harvey browsed through the list and found the entry on the man in the strange armor before him.

Ong Thiam Oetomo. AKA: James Black

He nodded and gestured inside. "James Black. You're good. Jus' try not to break anythin' while you're in there," he said to James with a warning. He then looked at the Negro woman who had just inquired about Gideon. "There's a Gideon here, Miss," Harvey told her. "And he's a mighty fine man. But 'course, I can't let ya in unless you're on this here list. If I may, Miss, can ya give your name?"

[hr]

"I'll discuss the whiskey with ya in a minute here," he told Saul as Karl spoke up.

The masked man made no attempt to hide his impatience. He reflected quite well Gideon's own desire to haul ass out of this bar, but he kept the calm, collected exterior that was expected from someone of his position.

"Don't ya worry, Karl. I'll get to the job offer," Gideon reassured. "Once Harvey lets in the people at the door, we'll be talking business. Looks like jus' about everyone's here pretty much".

 

[NeoAC]

"I was once known as Claire Delhomme," Claire stated, "Though that name had not been used for me in a couple of year. I don't usually let people have the honor of calling me that, but this Monsieur Gideon found out and got me a letter by that name somehow, so I would venture to guess that that is the nom you have on ton petit feuille there, mon frere."

She quickly appraised the guard before her, a fine specimen of a man and a worthy brother. If he was involved in this little operation that the letter spoke of surely it could not be as bad as she had initially suspected. Though with the likes of men that she had already seen passing through this door, why was she being called to this little hootenanny? Also with her and the guard seemingly the only persons of color present, aside from the Asian, what kind of respect would she get? Would she have any say in what the group did? These were the questions that would be need to be answered if she continued through that door.

 

[CounterAttack]

Callista continued to listen rather than speak, as she looked around the group. Many of these people seemed to be, through mannerisms or speech, from different places with different ideas and ideals. They were bizarre-looking, too: with her metallic arm, the young - by comparison - inventor figured she could blend in easily. She was good at that. Blending in. She liked being a part of the background of things. Being put in the limelight usually meant that she had to do something for a lot of people, and as she knew, she didn't like that kind of thing.

Quietly shedding her jacket and gloves to escape the heat of them, and managing the left sleeve with a little difficulty, Callista draped the jacket over her shoulder and stuck the gloves in one of its pockets. The fusion of flesh and metal that was her left forearm remained across her waist, the hand and fingers extending straight out from her wrist as they had been before. Each one was ramrod-straight, unbending without input from Callista's right hand flipping switches and turning dials in the inner side of the arm.

 

[Viking Incognito]

Duke looked at the well dressed man who had been talking about Jack Daniels and a smile came to his face. He ducked past Harvey and strode over to the man with a confident swing to his step. He held out his hand and said, "Hello my fine sir. I am Duke Tereth, but feel free to call me Duke. I couldn't help but notice your exquisite taste in drink! Would you care to share a round with me?"

 

[The Zango]

Karl silently watched the woman manipulating her metallic arm, ignoring the Captains response to his impatience, just standing and watching, the man an unnerving sight to any onlookers, as he stood perfectly still, with no sign of life coming from him other than the rhythmic ticking and the occasional rasping breath.

He wasn't exactly in awe of the womans, presumably, makeshift arm, he was just interested to see what he might discover about it from observing, as there was a possibility that he could incorporate some of her design into his own, though that was unlikely, as Karl was adamant his augmentations were at the cutting edge of modern technology and even if he wasn't right, it would take a lot to convince him so.

 

[Dancingman]

Sam looked over at the rest of the folks in the group, including the masked man and the oddly-clad negress. He looks over at Callista as she works with her mechanical arm and takes a sip of the whiskey. He wondered how the woman had acquired that contraption, he had heard rumors of the east, of Union and Confederate militias on the very outskirts of the war so roughshod and desperate that some hired women. He looks at the young lady inquisitively and asks her simply: "However did you manage to receive that contraption of metal and gears?" asks Sam, as always finding new technology intriguing if rather confusing.