Blood Ties

[arcanus]

Oceanus IV - 10th Century

Divergence Point: Archean Period 2.5 Billion years ago, continental landmasses fail to form above sea level. Earth evolves as an Ocean World.

The sky was a luxuriant blue with a haze of dawn red, Cirrus Cloud formations stretched tens of miles across its expanse, the Aetherium air freighter The Gossamer Swift rocked gently at an altitude of forty thousand feet. Looking down the view was spectacular, fluffy cumulus cloudscapes stretched thousands of feet below, occasionally allowing the azure ocean beneath it to be seen.

The Gossamer Swift was 365 meters in length a large traditional dirigible multi-cell gasbag with two decks within the bag and three below it.
The ship wasn’t quite what the Skyjacks referred to as a Junker, but its amalgamation of parts and superstructure meant it wasn’t far off, that being said you weren’t a proper Jack until your ship had been junked.

The ship’s captain stood at the stern of the oval lower gantry, breathing in the pure fresh air a feeling that prickled his lungs with cold, some ten thousand or so feet below he watched a squall roll itself lazily into a storm.

‘Penny for them’ she’d often said to him, when she’d found him in that same place watching the sky, he sighed, he’d broken that and now she wasn’t aboard. With that he clambered up the exterior ladders to the top deck and into his study.

Kennedy I - 1967

Divergence Point: November 22nd 1963 - Lee Harvey Oswald misses JFK, Kennedy wins a second term and withdraws US Troops from Vietnam.

The soft top Alpine A110 tore around the precariously curved Italian Aurunci mountain roads of Palmero.
Its drivers shoulder length hair whipping in the wind, gold mirror shades mirroring the cat that had got the cream grin upon his face.
The driver was inordinately pleased with himself, he’d secured the loan of one of only three Soft top Alpines, the Italian sunshine was glorious and he was flooring it along some of the most nail biting roads at ninety miles an Hour. Pure adrenaline racing through his smug system as he headed towards the greatest adventure in a fairly long list.

His self indulgence was interrupted by a chime from the flat case on the Alpines passenger seat, momentarily taking his eyes from the road he tapped the cases lid opening it.
Swerving back onto the right he watched from the corner of his eye as football sized droplet of Water floated from the esoteric device within, stopping once it floated a few inches above.

“Hello little brother” grinned Edward Hoste

Oceanus IV - 10th Century
A gust of wind superseded the usual high altitude breezes and sent a shudder of turbulence through the Gossamer Swift.
Elliot Hoste smiled to himself his paying guests would undoubtedly suffer for that, having not gained their air or sea legs as yet.
Hoste’s study sat within a singular gondola affixed to the underside of the gasbags frontal dome, it was a thoroughly old fashioned affair a combination of brass and wood and distinctly Victorian in theme.

Sat at his desk he looked upon the circular grey stone, along its outer rim were inscribed ancient glyphs these ran around a shallow bowl within its centre, a bowl always full of dark water.
Elliot drew his finger around the glyphs, once he’d completed the full circumference he heard or sensed a resonance within the water.
A single drop of water floated from the pool, hovering above the stone, further drops flowed upwards growing the watery drop into a sphere, once it had grown to the size of a soccer ball.
The Shew Stone hummed with a watery twang, its recipient already connected by blood.

“Hello little brother” said the face that appeared within the water, Elliot both smiled and frowned his brother was using his stone whilst driving, at speed from the look of it.
“Mother is furious with you” began Elliot
His brother merely grinned, a little too widely, prompting a deep frown in response
“Things came up” he finally replied
“Those things being some regatta or bender” Elliot replied “You know how important Mothers Balls are!” he continued
“And she’ll have other ones, I wanted some of my own R&R” in turn he frowned in concentration, taking a sharp bend
“By my calculations you have another month of leave?”
“And my greatest adventure yet”
Elliot sighed, pouring himself a coffee from his cafeteria, watching a huge flock of birds follow a thermal to the ships starboard, he winced as distantly he heard retching.

[arcanus]

Perigord - 1922

Current Affairs: North American is balkanised into five Nations, leaving a neutral contested territory running from Northern Idaho down to Texas.
Monte Carlo style racers now conduct Life or death road races within the territory.
Divergence Point: Napoleons forces are innoculated against Yellow Fever and destroy the Haitian Slave rebellion in 1802.
French foreign minister Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord persuades Napoleon to reject Thomas Jefferson’s request for the Louisiana Purchase and reinforces his American Colony with newly freed slave soldiers.
The Westward Expansion is halted leading Joshua Norton to successfully establish the Bear Flag Empire on the West Coast and a North America divided amongst Nations.

Copeland Logging Town, Boundary County, Idaho - January
Heavy boots crunched on frozen gravel, breath frosting in the predawn twilight.
The logging town of Copeland was a sturdy timber affair, hewn from the surrounding ocean of pine forests that stretched far north into British Columbia.
Edward Hoste considered himself in the glass facia of an office door, dressed in cream breeches, maroon knee length driving socks, a thick lambs wool sweater, a black and white checked overcoat and topped off by his brown leather pilots helmet.

He took a long deep breath drawing in the cold, pure air and then admired the scenery, the ambience of the quaint town illuminated by soft yellow lanterns, until he spotted his partner in crime Sonny Yardman emerge from his cabin.
Sonny was a great bear of a man, waxed jet black hair, fashionable pencil moustache and a ruddy complexion. He now threatened to awaken not just the town but the whole forest with a loud and exaggerated yawn, he was dressed almost in opposition to Eddie, his breeches tartan check, a plain camel skin great coat and enormous floppy cream flat cap.
He broke into a huge grin and proceeded to snip the end from a large cigar, Hoste returned his grin both of them giddy as schoolboys on a grand adventure.

Indeed it was a grand adventure, the race of their very lives facing incredible danger.

Sonny slapped Eddie on the back, a move that had he not braced would have certainly knocked the wind from his sails, both strode out to the assembly field where their fellow racers were groggily making their way to their racers.
The pair approached their pride and joy in no small degree of reverence.
Eddie walked the length of the body work and after visually taking her in, looked at the grinning face of his companion, “She’s a beauty” he whistled
His face grew serious; he whispered “Any out worldly modifications?”
Sonny feigned a look of innocence and shrugged, the well trimmed black moustache twitching with amusement, and then he leant over the car.
“Machined in the Hollywood chop shops, all native materials and parts, just some modern techniques introduced quietly, that and ceramic heat distributers, nano-diamond bodywork coating, improved suspension and solid tires”
He winked “You’ll thank me for that as we get going, remember there’s no such thing as a state freeway, all dirt track and cross country!”

Hoste nodded and again admired the racer, she was a 4 seat Aston Martin 1921 Sports, in line with the crazily advanced automotive industry she sported a 21st Century twin turbo and super charger, on top of her monstrous 12 Litre engine
Sonny reached down to the walnut console and flicked five brass switches in turn, the front wings opened upward allowing twin machineguns to rise up on mechanisms.
Curved reinforced rams extended from the front and back of the cars chassis, spikes popped from the armoured hubcaps, a second cannon upon an articulated tripod between the back seats and finally some ominous pointed nose cones from tubes running the side wings.

Again Hoste whistled, “Very impressive!”, however he had a feeling they were going to need everything they had and more.

[arcanus]

Perigord - 1922
The Assembly Field, Copeland, Boundary County, Idaho - 05.30am.
The low sun cut across the pine forest mist boiled off the fallen snow, the break in the twilight painful upon the eyes.
The amassed drivers and co-drivers performing yet another set of oil and ammunition checks, despite the fact that in barely an hour they’d be trying to blast each other to hell a jovial spirit pervaded.

Beside Sonny’s car stood the French and Prussian drivers of a Jaguar 12-Litre SS92 racer, another sleek looking beast, which Eddie couldn’t help but admire.
“She is a impressive no!” the Frenchman had looked up from his engine checks
“She certainly is” he replied
Hoste smiled and extended his hand, surprisingly the Frenchman returned his gesture
“Michel D’Voe”
“Eddie Hoste”
“Ah an Englishman” replied Michel
“On my Fathers side, Russian on my Mothers” the frenchie merely nodded in acknowledgement
“This is Augustus, my co-driver”
“Sonny” Eddie swept his hand over to point out his huge driver, who waved in return
“Your first time monsieur Hoste?”
“Yes, I wonder how many will make it through to the finish” replied Eddie looking out across the drivers
“A few” replied the Frenchman “Its not so much the other drivers you need to watch, but the marauders and hunters”
The pairs gaze fell upon a big American guy, who amazingly seemed to have his young son with him, complete with racing goggles and flat cap
“Is he crazy?” hissed Hoste
“Most certainly Môn Amie, no offence but these is the trouble, little rich boys who think these is just a race, its assassiner sur roues, anyway Eddie the very best of luck, ah ope I see you at the finish ”

Eddie once again shook Michel’s hand “You too, stay safe”, he glared at the man who was now in a heated argument with another driver, presumably about the boys safety.
The boy stood in the rear seat of their racer, clad in his twead shorts and matching waistcoat, looking very alone.

[arcanus]

Perigord - 1922
The Schweitzer Mountain Dirigible Station, Sandpoint, Bonner County, Idaho – 05.35am
Below the balcony ran a sheer drop of some several hundred feet into deep snow and hidden rocks, Flora Whitney Vanderbilt shivered and drew her mink coat around her, heiress to the combined fortunes of the eminently powerful Whitney and Vanderbilt families, she was soon to marry into the Roosevelts.

Her good friend silent film actress Claire Du Brey offered her a smoke from an ornate silver case, Flora smiled and promptly inserted it in her cigarette holder, the two stood admiring the snow covered mountainscape.
The station was a large grey construction built in the style of a European fortress or castle, projecting high above it were two huge mooring pylons, attached to one was their days conveyance, a stately Lockheed dirigible skyliner.

The two flappers watched as some adventurous souls skied down the slopes, her fiancée Quentins late father had talked of turning the station into a resort, perhaps his son would tackle such an exciting adventure.
Flora turned and watched her son Wesley, career around the balcony, occasionally slip on the patches of ice, much to the annoyance of other society people clustered in their cliques awaiting the invitation to board the skyliner.

‘Good boy’ thought Flora, let them sneer and grumble, Wesley was a Vanderbilt Whitney Roosevelt, let no one forget that, she returned to idle chat with Claire as Quentin started to reign in his wayward stepson.

A growing sense of excitement was gathering amongst the American young and wealthy, nothing beat the blood and gore of the Death races, they were the new Roman senate watching their gladiators go to battle.

[arcanus]

Oceanus IV - 987 AD
The Gossamer Swift swayed, sitting at the much lower altitude of five hundred feet, she was subject to stronger winds.
Brout Winsack shimmed along the rigging cables, circumventing the gangways cluttered with passengers, he muttered something dark in Apache before swinging out in a wide arc onto the vertical cables leading down to the hull pylons.

From his vantage point on the upper balcony Elliot Hoste smirked at gasps from the collected scientists on the lower platform, as Winsack vanished down below the underside of the ship.
His Homeline passengers had assembled on the lower balcony to take in the view, the real reason for their descent was for the riggers to take aboard water for ballast and desalination.

The true spectacle was however the Aquanesians, the aboriginal seafaring folk who’d dwelt on this World Line for millennia, evolved from aquatic primates they were incredible swimmers.

“This World is truly incredible” said a voice behind him, Hoste turned, acknowledging one of the science delegation, he supplemented his ships income by towing a science research pod on their journey from the trading posts and research facilities back to the conveyer stations.
It meant that their journeys took a long time as the boffins had to be given enough time to conduct their studies, but gave him a reliable cashflow that covered in the very least running costs.

“Professor Stoyne!” he said in greeting

The scientist was a shortish man, clad in a vaguely Edwardian tweed, with short ginger hair, if Hoste were a betting man he’d have placed the man’s origins as Jewish, possibly Eastern European, he joined Elliot at the rail. “It is a beautiful place” Hoste replied, looking at the perfect blue sky

The two men watched the Aquanesians who had strung a great number of their reed canoes together making a platform, the assembled group were in the process of dragging a dozen three meter long tuna onto their platform to be chopped up.
“Does everything grow so big around here?” asked Stoyne
“Between vast oceanic ranges, a higher oxygen level and lower gravity, yes most species are bigger, even the Aquanesians are on the large side” replied Hoste
“Amazing” muttered the Professor
“So what field of study brings you to Oceania Professor?”
Stoyne seemed to snap out of his musing “I’m a Climatologist, specifically a xeno-climatologist”
Hoste’s only reply was to raise his eyebrows
Stoyne chuckled “I study non Terrestrial climates, whereabouts in the past this would have been through sheer speculation and applied chemistry, access to the numerous World Lines allows us to survey locations where the atmospheric development of Earth didn’t follow the usual path”
Intrigued Hoste turned and regarded the scientist “Are there many of these Earths?”

“More than you’d think, World Lines where higher levels of Hydrogen, ammonia, even hydrochloric acid developed and even more bizarre elements in some cases” he stated
“Of course we use robotic probes in most cases, avoids unpleasantness” he added mirthfully
“Smother is probably the most famous hostile atmosphere World Line”
“Considering the hostility of your usual subject matter, what brings you to Oceania?”
Stoyne smiled “An Earth with no pollution, even undue methane, unique weather systems, not to mention the fact its Oxygenation was created from its immense plankton shoals” he beamed.

Elliot’s attention was drawn to a swell in the waves some way off, some of his crew had also spotted it, the scientists oblivious, the swell vanished and activity resumed around the ship.
Hoste however wasn’t convinced, he whistled to his chief rigger Estefan and signed a message to him, the lanky Spaniard dropped from his vantage point on the cables, allowing his lines to swing him under the hull.

Suspended by a convoluted array of winches and pulleys hung a large circular wooden platform, hanging from this array were several smaller baskets or tanks to collect sea water or to allow crew members to fish.
Hanging upstairs Estefan bellowed orders, a frenzy of movement followed as the crew scrambled to reel the smaller baskets up, unbeknownst to the passengers.

Stoyne stopped talking when he realised that Hoste’s attention was elsewhere “Captain!”
A huge surge appeared in the water, a great wave rose in front of it, the Aquanesians were already abandoning their boats, those close to the sea diving in.
The less fortunate were caught as a massive marlin like fish some 10 meters in length exploded from the water, destroying the platform, crushing the Aquanesians unfortunate enough not to jump clear and leaping at least 20 meters into the air.

The ship rocked as the giant fish collided with some of its collection baskets not winched up in time.
“Good God” exclaimed Stoyne, his fellow scientists on the deck below either in a state of shock or chattering with each other in an excited frenzy.
The chatter paused to watch the mighty fish plummet back into the water, its immense tail pulsed propelling it at awesome speed back into the depths.

“Is every creature so bloody big” repeated a wide eyed Stoyne
Finding himself repeating himself Hoste replied “No extinction event, no wide scale fishing, the monsters of the Oceania’s deep have had all the time in the World to grow excessively”, a series of sharp whistles from their captain galvanised the crew who recommenced their tasks.
“Was it hunting” the Professor chattered with nervous energy
“Yes, it was probably chasing the tuna, which in turn was undoubtedly pursuing an Armada shoal”
“Armada Shoal!”
“Everythings bigger here Professor, Armada Shoals number in the hundreds of millions, possibly billions of fish”
“Incredible!, For an airship captain, you seem to have considerable knowledge of this world!”
Hoste smiled “This is a very different place Professor Stoyne, knowing its workings are paramount to success and survival” Elliot Hoste’s attention was now turning to the running of his vessel
“I’ll leave you with this thought Professor!, if the Giant Marlin was hunting the Tuna, what was hunting the marlin?” he smiled enigmatically and hauled himself up the steps towards the bridge.
Stoyne turned and distantly he thought he saw a huge fin disappear below the ocean’s surface.

[arcanus]

Perigord - 1922

Current Affairs: North American is balkanised into five Nations, leaving a neutral contested territory running from Northern Idaho down to Texas.
Monte Carlo style racers now conduct Life or death road races within the territory.
Divergence Point: Napoleons forces are innoculated against Yellow Fever and destroy the Haitian Slave rebellion in 1802.
French foreign minister Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord persuades Napoleon to reject Thomas Jefferson’s request for the Louisiana Purchase and reinforces his American Colony with newly freed slave soldiers.
The Westward Expansion is halted leading Joshua Norton to successfully establish the Bear Flag Empire on the West Coast and a North America divided amongst Nations.

Boundary County, Idaho – 7.13am
Automatic fire tore through Douglas Fir and gorse bushes, filling the air with explosions of maimed foliage.
Eddie Hoste sank a little lower in his passenger seat as 7mm Rounds filled the air like angry hornets, in a detached manner neither he nor Sonny were unduly alarmed by being under fire, after all it came with the territory.
The pair of them within their respective fields were hardened to the conditions of constant danger and the requirement for nerve, no the surge of adrenaline came from not being wrecked or killed having only just started the race.

Eddie could still hear the boom of the starter pistol and the thunderous discharge of dozens upon dozens of roadsters charging toward the exit tracks and once more into the breach.
Sonny compensated by hand braking the Aston into a wide rightwards slide, brake off, shift and pedal to the floor, the Aston roaring as she flew out of the dirt track bend and their pursuers line of fire.

The first forty miles of the race was just that, a sprint to the County Line at Sandpoint then the hunters entered the affair, unfortunately whereabouts a number of racers drove for speed, others chose to reduce as many of their competition as possible.
Two heavier armoured roadsters had moved onto Sonny and Hoste after quickly riddling a couple of unfortunates barely past the starting line.

Those roadsters were now in dogged pursuit.
“Damn fools, you’d have thought it would be better to have more cars when the hunters join in!” shouted Sonny “More targets!”
Eddie nodded, however this was the bloody 20s and 30s in Homeline violence and bloodshed were common place whether it was the gangland killings in Chicago or anti Semitic murders in Europe, these were not times of a great appreciation of the value of human life.
Perigort only differed in that it had a more obvious and gruesome outlet.

“They’re killers Sonny, they aren’t in it for the race, just to kill, another notch in the belt!” he shouted back
“Well do me a favour, how about making it a little more difficult for them, navigator!!” Sonny bellowed back, both of them groaned as he slewed the car dramatically to the left, avoiding another barrage.
Hoste winced as more 7mm rounds reflected off the boot and the metal shield situated behind their heads, giving Sonny a frown he drew the shortened Thompson SMG, positioned himself to face backwards and gave Sonny the nod.

The big man spun the wheel, this time sliding the Aston to the right, a shower of chipping clattering against the axle and the attacking roadster, which by now had closed to a stones throw behind them.
“AGAIN” he shouted and Sonny swerved left, giving Hoste a good look at the armoured Cadillac, every inch of her was reinforced, a metal grill across her windscreen, steel plating protecting her radiator and an ugly pair of Vickers Machine guns mounted along her lengthy bonnet.
Firing at the driver was pointless, however blinding them wasn’t out of the question, in keeping with their agreement to not cheat Eddie braced himself for another swerve and produced their emergency flaregun.

“Those things must weigh a ton, can’t we outrun them” he shouted
“Dirt track, their weight actually helps them dig in, if we make it we hit what they call a main road in twenty or so miles, then it’s our game!” Sonny shouted in reply
“If we make it that far!” grumbled Hoste
“WHAT”
“NOTHING JUST KEEP US OUT OF HARMS WAY”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING” responded Sonny in disbelief
A momentary flash of pessimism was jolted out of Hoste as the nearest Caddie lined up and sent a volley into the Aston’s surreptitious diamond coated titanium armour, anger prevailed
“KEEP HER STRAIGHT”
A ridge in the road sent the Roadster into a jump, as she landed Hoste waited for their pursuer to do the same, as the lead Caddie landed heavily he fired sending the flare clumsily across the bonnet and exploding across the drivers visor.
Wasting no time Hoste swapped weapons and drained a drum into the drivers nearside tire, quickly reloading he repeated the action, despite the advantage of solid rubber tires the barrage eventually tore great chunks from the tire and it rapidly began to unravel, sending the car into a spin.

The second Cadillac tore forwards without pause it rammed the spinning bonnet of its predecessor and sent her careering off the track, such a manaouver however was entirely expected by Eddie who had used the commotion to arm four Mills hand grenades.
As the cars crashed over the ever more bumpy terrain he bowled them along the ground, the first exploding after the murderous car had passed over it, the second and third however detonating beneath its axle with the fourth bouncing out to its right and going off beside its drivers door, the whole car was violently thrown into the air and then smashed down onto its left side.

“You just used all our grenades?” challenged Sonny
Eddie merely grinned “Nope, those were my personal supply, plus I’ve set up a few surprises along the way”
Sonny merely frowned, the road levelling he accelerated and headed for more open country.

***
Boundary County Airspace
William H Fox watched the proceedings with interest, not from the gruesome opening engagements of the race, but from how successful Bairds new Cathode Ray Tube telescopic projector was working. The device connected to a motion picture capture telescope was following the race and projecting an enlarged image into the viewing lounge of his Lockheed dirigible skyliner The Herald.

His ship was moored at a lower altitude to the West of the race routes, whereabouts the society parasites vessels were at a higher safer distance to the East.
He snarled at his useless interns and aids as the picture occasionally went out of focus, however over all the image was good and boded well for Bairds further experimentation on his television.

Each Skyliner on the trip had been fitted with such a device, which would keep the important paying customers happy with their fill of gore.
His attention was drawn to a violent exchange on one of the narrower South East tracks, two armoured Cadillac’s were chasing down a faster roadster, the latter losing its advantage due to the road conditions.
Like a beleaguered deer the roadster had swerved and ducked to avoid being chewed up by the Caddies machineguns and then had dramatically turned the tables, leaving the pursuing cars either in the ditch or on fire.

Still far too many roadsters had made it to the main Hope Road, leaving the armoured cars behind “BRAUNSON” he snapped
“Yes sir, Mr Fox Sir”
“Quit standing around boy, go get me the Baron!”
Braunson didn’t reply he just moved, William H Fox nodded and returned to his viewing, he’d didn’t want the damned Roosevelt’s complaining they were bored, his face darkened ‘scum’ he mentally cursed

[arcanus]

Winter Palace – 1951

Divergence Point(s): Earth orbit is further from the Sun, leading to the climatic temperature being 10 to 30 degrees cooler, the Northern Hemisphere has been gripped within a perpetual Glacial Age since Primordial times.
In 1689 the Russian Empire defeats the Tatars in the Battle of Zelenaya and goes onto defeating both the Manchurians and Ottomans, absorbing them into the Empire
Current Events: The Tsarina Anastasia rules the most powerful Empire on Earth and Gregor Cavorite has discovered his anti-gravity material.

The Imperial Opera Hall, Omsk, Russia
Beneath the gilded arches of a three century old vaulted ceiling, the ornate filigree and classical depiction of Orthodox Testament, the Troupe of the Mariinsky Ballet pirouetted in perfect time.
Their patron however missed the closing scens of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, instead he stood within the grand Cupola situated high upon the Halls roof, he stood looking to the north and its pristine white snow fields.
Unlike his adopted brothers who loved their speed, their oil and their machines he loved beauty and majesty, there was nothing like the frozen vistas of the Motherland, The Baga Yagas hunting ground or the poetry of the Ballet.

Closing this eyes he drew heavily upon his cigar, allowing the thick blue smoke to slowly pass back through his teeth a motion that drained the tension from him, he was always nervous before the big shows, especially when the Tsarinas Princesses were in the Royal boxes.
A hand caused him to open his eyes again, turning his head he looked upon his daughters angelic face framed by coppery blond tresses.
“Папа, вы пропустите финал” (“Papa, you'll miss the finale!”)
He smiled and stroked her face “Я видел это сто раз, ангел” (“I've seen it a hundred times, angel”)
Feia gasped scandalously “Вам нужно будет преклоняться перед принцесс” (“You will need to bow before the Princesses”)
He nodded that was true, almost on cue a stage manager appeared quite out of breath at the top of the stairs, he nodded, stubbing out his cigar and hurriedly made his way down through the labyrinthine stairs and corridors of the Opera Hall.
His timing was as good as his troupe stepping out on stage for his ovation.

Tchachinsk Heights, Omsk, Russia
The weariness flowed from him with the elation that the 1950 season was over, another successful tour, it was good to be home.
Foka opened the double doors, the butler had served the family for years and smiled with his return, followed in by Miss Feia, they weren’t stopping the end of season ball was starting in a couple of hours.

Vander Hoste stopped as Foka nodded toward the drawing room, Feia skipped up the ornate staircase unawares, he waited until she had disappeared along the expansive landing and into her bedroom.
He then stepped into the large antiquated room, curiously noticing his Mothers Russian dolls amongst the antique clutter on the mantelpiece.
Sat in two of the armchairs were two familiar although not entirely welcome faces

“Officers Markov and Briunes, what are you doing in my house” said Vander Hoste, a thunderous frown clouding his face.

[arcanus]

Winter Palace – 1951

Divergence Point(s): Earth orbit is further from the Sun, leading to the climatic temperature being 10 to 30 degrees cooler, the Northern Hemisphere has been gripped within a perpetual Glacial Age since Primordial times.
In 1689 the Russian Empire defeats the Tatars in the Battle of Zelenaya and goes onto defeating both the Manchurians and Ottomans, absorbing them into the Empire
Current Events: The Tsarina Anastasia rules the most powerful Empire on Earth and Gregor Cavorite has discovered his anti-gravity material.

Veliky Novgorod , Western Russia
Even the sky was an ice grey, the temperature was -20 and amid great mounds of thick Mother Russian snow Boris Yulan ran as silently as he could, cursing every crunch of his boots.
Behind him Gotr and Nillav each carrying their PPS Sub-machine guns, Gotr carrying the RPG.

Their targets ZIL 115 limousine was trundling down the snow ladened road, they caught up with Ivdy Vinena who had reached a vantage point hidden beside a three meter high snow dune.
She poised raising her SMG, as Boris reached her she leaned out to check how close the car was, the left side of her head jolted with a pop of blood, as she tumbled forwards he looked down at the contents of her skull sprayed across his chest.

Panic tore through the ambushers, Boris looked across the road to the opposing copse of trees, where their comrades were positioned, puffs of snow exploded into the air as two comrades collapsed fatally shot.
Their ambush had clearly been discovered, Boris turned to shout to Gotr only to see his headless corpse lying oozing blood into the frozen tundra.
In horrified shock he stumbled back to the corpse and most importantly the RPG, releasing the safety catch and hurried back to fire upon the car, as he cleared the snow pile he was struck in the chest, a blow that smashed his chest bone and rib cage.

Hurtling backwards his ragdoll flight was stopped by four long claws sliding into his back.

Boris Yulan’s corpse was then thrown backwards and forwards as two enormous paws played with its victim, a monstrous feline tossed its annoying toy away and stood.
It sniffed the air whilst almost disdainfully sprayed the corpses with urine, then cocked his head as if listening to something or someone, turning he looked out past the copse of trees spying several stragglers fleeing, tensing its legs it pounced, bounding into the trees.

Devin Stratinski stood from his snow hole, shaking his icy covering off.
He moved down the slope and over to the treeline, raising his Silenced Tokarev rifle and drew a bead on the fleeing Bolsheviks, however his line of sight was unceremoniously broken by the enormous tiger.
He grimaced as Vlad thundered into the escapees, a full fifteen feet long from nose to tail, massing a full 1300 lbs, Vlad was a giant tiger white as snow with pale grey stripes and piercing crystal blue eyes.
In two bounds he’d intercepted the remaining two, each brought down by a swipe from a paw 12 inches wide, their deaths were swift as he pounced onto their necks snapping them like twigs.

Sat within the back of the ZIL a woman managed to close her connection with the monstrous tiger before he began to play with the bodies.
Silently the driver waited for Stratinski who equally silently got in the front passenger seat, they pulled off leaving Vlad to catch them up when he’d finished.

[arcanus]

Oceanus IV - 10th Century

Divergence Point: Archean Period 2.5 Billion years ago, continental landmasses fail to form above sea level. Earth evolves as an Ocean World.

The Aerotary The Halley rocked with greater movement than the scientists had grown accustomed too, essentially it was a dirigible in its own right, however it lacked the power for long distance flights.
Its mass given over to more spacious quarters and laboratory space, to compensate for this poor range she was tethered to The Gossamer Swift, a long range freighter.

She also lacked the ability to attain great altitudes, however despite having been towed to a high altitude to avoid the winds, she was still being buffeted.

The pod had now assumed a rocking motion not dissimilar to a boat bobbing upon the ocean,
Professor John Stoyne watched as for at least the tenth time a number of small objects such as pens, paperweights and similar ornamenta slid from one side of his desk to the other.
A few lost their fight with gravity and plunged to the floor.

He thanked god for advanced nausea suppressants, however he still felt distinct unease, conceding defeat he stood from his reading and secured anything not strapped down, quickly catching his tablet as it made a bid for the floor.

“Its not good is it!” came Professor Lightens reedy voice from his doorway
Lightens was one of the resident biologists, Stoyne turned to regard him “Beg your pardon”
His visitor looked distinctly greyish green “Please don’t vomit in my cabin!” Stoyne cautiously stated, “What’s not good!”
“The weather it shouldn’t be like this should it” Lightens shrilled
Stoyne smirked “We’re on the edge of storm season, Hypercanes are building across the Antarctic region of the planet”
“Hypercanes” stammered Lightens
“Yes super sized hurricanes large enough to eclipse a continent” replied Stoyne as he checked his tablet, he was unfortunately for Lightens enjoying his explanation and the discomfort it was causing
“Mother of god” gulped the biologist

“Not to worry Captain Hoste will have us away before they approach”
“So this isn’t the Hypercanes” replied Lightens
Stoyne looked a little astonished “No Gerry this is just storm winds, you’ll get used to it”
“They won’t settle down”
“Not until we head north no” he replied
By this stage Stoyne was now feeling a little sorry for the scientist, the worst thing he’d probably experienced was a bit of turbulence on a flight, he poured him a cup of tea from his flask, allowed a bout of rocking to subside and passed him the cup.

[arcanus]

Oceanus IV - 10th Century

Divergence Point: Archean Period 2.5 Billion years ago, continental landmasses fail to form above sea level. Earth evolves as an Ocean World.

“All ahead full!, extend the crown”
“Aye sir” replied Mr Bronski, the overly large pilot
The Swift shunted as her props rotated into full spin, Hoste watched as the sails unfolded from the bag and hull, a curved construction of rigging when fully extended making the ship appear like a man-made scorpion fish.

The curved crown of sails immediately swelled and before the ships props had added much in the way of speed the wind was doing it for them.
Many of the old hands took umbridge with extending the crown in high winds, the turbulence was difficult and many a ship had been torn apart by its own crown being ambushed by hurricane speed cross winds, however it added 30 knots tailwind and that couldn’t be argued.
Not when they had storms greater than any back home building behind them.

The Swift shook violently as the wind sheer tore across her hull, air pressure was building around them, the ship jolted again as the props fully kicked in launching her forwards and running ahead of the megastorm.
“Capn” Elliot Hoste turned from his checking the barometer, Bronski looked ahead to a swirling vortex of lightning infused cloud.
He shuddered as a glimmer ran through him, “Engage Mag ram full rotation, about 20 degrees port, crown to a third”
Bronksi spun the wheel and cranked the Crown sail back, their Leverman Mr Martins fired up the ram, above the bridge gondola a large drum shaped appendage began to rotate at high speed.
Upon the tail of the ship a second ram began its own rotation.

A second Glimmer made Elliott flinch “ABOUT, 30 degrees port, ahead 2000 yards and 50 degrees starboard”, in the two years of his Captaincy, Bronski had learned to trust Hoste’s decisions and strange intuition.
The helmsman spun the wheel and veered the ship to the left, as he did so lightning rippled through the huge black cloud looming ominously to its starboard, illuminating its core so that it resembled some wretched black heart.
Beads of lightning arced from its swollen mass drawn to the row of lightning rods lining its spine, each rod connected by a conducting wire, the whole assembly positively charged by the spinning rams.

Below Decks – The Gossamer Swift
The humidity had soared within the engineering compartments, housed above the exposed suspended gondola decks, within the gasbag itself.
The air had grown stuffy, static electricity gave the greasers mild shocks, lighting flashed on and off and the they were covered in sweat.
“HE’S A DANG FOOL!” bellowed an itinerate greaser, above the roar of the steam turbines, pistons and dynamos, “He’ll kill us all” wheezed another through his sodden beard
“STOW THAT” roared a voice that cut through the discord like a knife “SECURE THOSE HATCHS,
SHUT THOSE SWITCHES DOWN!” an old man hard and grizzled as if carved from stone, stood among the greasers who suddenly became decidedly busy
The old greaser was the only not to be cowed “Don’t change the fact that’ll ell kill us”
“No you’ll be getting us killed by distracting everyone, now shut your hole and keep her running, these engines die and we are dead”
The greaser grumbled, the old man kept glaring at him until he started to move back to the engines “Anyway if you wanted a quiet life why’d you sign on as a Skyjack”, to which the old greaser had no answer.

The Aerotary - The Halley
Unlike the majority of his scientific companions Professor Stoyne was not huddled within the bowels of the pod, instead he stood in the foremost compartment with biochemist Evan Grantley and his daughter Grace.
Stoyne was rapt below them he could see stormheads building, they were racing across a weather front that could well be a thousand miles long.
He watched as the Gossamer Swift manoeuvred left to avoid flying head on into a lightning cloud hundreds of feet tall, fascination gripped him as lightning surged from the cloud and arced along some form of lightning rod spine following the larger ships dorsal.

Evan was one of those annoying curious creatures, a great athletic figure who just happened to have an IQ of 130 and a doctorate in Biochemistry, he was also an extrovert thrill seeker so safe to assume despised by the majority of his introverted academic brethren.
He was cuddling his daughter who did not share her father’s enthusiasm for knuckle biting and death defying stunts, she jumped at every bright white flash.

“Your loving this” commented Evan
“I could hardly love meteorology and not be awed by its majesty and there is nothing like this on Earth, look at the scale”
Evan merely chuckled and hugged the scared form of Grace.