Blood Ties

Fiction detailing the ongoing events on the Homeline and numerous parallel Worldlines.

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Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Sat Aug 25, 2012 1:01 pm

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 Airspace - Idaho.
From the main balcony of the Lockheed dirigible skyliner William H Fox concluded expressing his wishes to the tall powerfully built man stood beside him.
Unlike his minions and employees, he treated this one with measured respect, this one was an Alpha like him, a pack leader, the man nodded and marched away.

Fox turned “Baron”, The man stopped
“No mercy” in reply he merely nodded and resumed marching.
Five minutes later a Red triple wing Fokker D disengaged from the aeroplane pylons and dropped into the sky below, a signal having roused four biplanes of the same squadron from their nearby airfield.

***
Hope Road Boundary County, Idaho – 7.41am
Despite Sonny’s dire warning of the trip being all dirt road, Hope Road was a decent piece of road, the Aston gripped the road which was useful considering it was peppered with wreckage.

The big man swerved, frantically spun the wheel to correct and pitched the car right to avoid the next chunk of twisted metal.
“THIS CAN’T ALL BE RACING CARS” shouted Hoste
“THINK IT IS, NOT ALL FROM THIS RACE” Sonny shouted back “THINK THEY LEAVE THEM HERE!”
Sonny’s logic made a lot of sense, small arms fire bounced off adjacent wreckage, he’d forgotten the other racers.
Hoste’s attention however was drawn to a deep drone, his neck crunched as the car veered once again across the road, he searched around from the noise until his vision was drawn upwards.
“Shit” he watched as a ominous red fighter plane levelled out, behind it flew four other fighters
“That can’t be good” he muttered “WE’VE GOT A PROBLEM” he roared at Sonny, just as canon rounds tore up the road ahead of them.

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Re: Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Thu Jan 03, 2013 11:23 pm

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 Gossamer Swift bucked and jolted as the thunderhead closed in, the mass of dense cloud pushing in on itself, as the ionized vapor contacted the ships dorsal fin its contained charge surged back into the head emitting a thunderclap that could be heard for hundreds of miles.

The electrics on the ship shorted plunging her into complete darkness.

Engineering
“GET THOSE CRANKS MOVING” roared the old man
The greasers connected T-bars and began to furiously turn the mechanical cranks, sparky’s hurriedly replaced or flicked breakers, yelping as the greasers managed to get the dynamos charged ahead of them.

Sparks flew illuminating the sweaty darkness, for a long moment the greasers, Sparks and stokers held their breathes, then the lights flickered and the engines started to thrum once again.

The Aerotary - The Halley
The cloud had now encircled the ship like some predatory creature, the buffeting had reached a fairly violent level of buffeting, so much so that the cowering scientists had decided that their was nowhere they were really safe and gathered in the viewing suite with Stoyne and Grantley.

As the resident climatologist Stoyne had suddenly become both their salvation and then the source of their fear, until Grantley had shouted them into submission.
Stoyne watched as the winds drove the storm around the vessels and frowned.

Grantley had now finally settled Grace for the second time, glaring at the scholars, countering the pendulum like motion of the deck he stood beside Stoyne
“I’m guessing this isn’t good” he whispered
“No the storm is faster than we are, meaning we’re getting enveloped” replied Stoyne in hushed tones

The Gossamer Swift
“CROWNS DOWN” shouted Bronski
Elliot Hoste watched the array of suspended lanterns, barometers and charms swing from side to side, the manic rocking motion fortunately didn’t make his stomach turn, instead it got his blood pumping, his adrenaline flowing.

“CAPT” shouted Bronski again, the pilot looked out of the windows at hell itself, he was deafened by the roar of the wind and creaking of the ship, then back at Hoste who seemed oblivious, in some sort of daydream, Jake Martin looked at Bronski nervously.
Martin looked back at his brass encased meters, “TOWING LINE TENSIONS SLIPPING!” he shouted

Hoste’s eyes snapped open, he winced as another Glimmer hit him
“PORT 30 DEGREES, AHEAD FULL, DESCEND 30 METERS, NOW” he bellowed
Mr Martin immediately opened the gas vents, the buoyancy gas in the cells exposed to nitrogen vapour, immediately making it heavier and pushing the ship down.
Bronski snapped to action however he frowned when looking ahead he saw nothing but the blackest areas of the thunderhead, lightning seethed throughout the cloud, Bronksi a hard man gulped as he pushed the wheel forwards taking the Swift down into a sweeping descent.

The Aerotary - The Halley
“AGGGHHH, MOTHER OF GOD!” screamed Professor Gordon Baxter
The Science Pod lurched and weaved as it followed the Gossamer Swift downwards at speed.
“Bloody hell” grunted Stoyne as the lurch slammed him into the hand rail
“I don’t believe it” gasped Evan Grantley
The pair looked through the sheets of swirling rain, lashed around by 80 mile an hour winds, their attention was upon the great metal tether that connected the two vessels and more importantly on what appeared to be a figure hurtling up the cable.
The two of them looked at each other speechless.

The Tether
Clad in thick padded clothes and gloves, the figure allowed the mechanical pulley to whizz him up the tether, he just had to hold on for dear life.
Buffeted by the hurricane the figure reached The Halley, swinging from the pulley it took him some time to connect his safety lines before stepping out onto the tether platform and through into the winch room.

Stoyne and Grantley both charged down the stairs, each banging their heads and receiving multiple cuts and bruises from being thrown around the stairwell before reaching the lower deck and along to the front of the Pod.

The figure was removing his face mask, arctic goggles and his trappers hat as they arrived, both looked at the bearded man his face despite the mask red and slapped.
Both of the scientists stood mouths agape, before Ewan managed to blurt “Are you insane!”
“Aye certifiable” replied the man in a Scottish brogue, he cocked an eyebrow at a horrendous howling noise that accompanied the clanking of metal and rigging, “Right quit yer gabbing and give me a hand” he barked, turning to the wall high array of levers and turn cranks before him.

Within seconds he had them turning pulleys until the accompanying dials were showing the numbers that the Scotsman ordered
“What are we doing” asked Stoyne
“Fixing the Tether tension” the man replied absently as he spun three more wheels, the creaking started to subside, it occurred to Stoyne if this man had braved a hurricane then he didn’t want to know what would have happened if it hadn’t have been fixed.

The Gossamer Swift
“THE OLD GROUSE HAS DONE IT, TENSIONS GOOD” shouted Martin
Hoste chuckled and then winced as thunder burst beside the bridge, the concussion blew anything not tied down across the space, sucked the air from their lungs and the pressure shot stabbing pain through their temples.
Lightning danced across the hull, the sparkys hurrying around like little boys plugging the dam, the ship was literally shaking itself apart.

Hoste grabbed a brass rail, while Mr Martin lost his feet and tumbled across the bridges floor as the Swift seemed to strike a wall, the concussive impact actually turning the dirigibles nose aside.
“CAPT WE’RE GETTING TURNED ASIDE” bellowed Bronski
“KEEP HER AT FULL” he shouted back
A streak of lightning screeched down through the grey roaring cloud ahead of them, then the wind switched the Swift shoved to starboard, the props screaming and she shot forwards, the Halley twisting along behind her.

Bronski blinked as sunlight blinded him and they ran out into open sky the storm front a colossal force seething and roiling behind them.
Hoste quickly relayed headings to the pilot, at full ahead they cut away from the pursuing rage heading north.

In the Halley the Scotsman grinned, nodded and simply said “Aye” before turning and heading off to find a drink, it had been a busy afternoon.

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Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Sun Jan 06, 2013 9:24 pm

Cinnabar Island - The Gulf of Guinea, The Equatorial Zone, Oceanus IV
The change from barely twelve hours previously was startling, the seas had calmed, the skies blue streaked by fluffy stratocumulus.
Professor Stoyne breathed in the rich air, feeling pleased that the purer oxygen didn’t make him descent into a coughing fit, having descended down the tether he now surveyed the cloudscape from the Gossamer Swifts balcony.
Hundreds of miles behind them a wall of hurricane cloud stretched across the entire horizon.

“We have a reprieve” said Gerry Lightens “How long before it catches us up” he added nervously
Stoyne smiled, a kinder smile than previously “We’re in the clear Gerry, atmospheric tides and mass evaporation across the Tropic of Capricorn provides a wall against the Hypercanes”
“So they won’t reach us here?”
“No Oceanus has a band of clear sky encircling its equator supported by tropical tidal streams, this is where most sensible way stations are built in calmer seas, you don’t want to be in arctic or Antarctic territories right now” replied Stoyne
The pair watched as the ship descended, venting vapour from its gasbag moving down towards the artificial island below.

***
The past twelve hours had been turbulent for the crew, the engineers had been particularly aggrieved at the hurricane episode, in particular one particular Greaser Kleef.
The ship now in safer skies and preparing to dock, Hoste had agreed to meet Kleef, something that his First Mate Reardon was particularly against.
Standing upon his cabin balcony Elliot watched Bronskis skill in manoeuvring the great vessel down in such a stately manner , his solitude interrupted by Reardon clambering down the ladder from the main platform.
“He’s on the bridge” snarled the old man
Hoste looked at him and smiled “You’re not happy”
“Shit no, look my time to tell you whats what are gone, but Kleefs an asshole, he’ll never be happy no matter what you or anyone else says!”
“True, but I want to hear what he has to say”
“Fair enough, I said my piece” to which Hoste nodded in appreciation

Reardon scurried back up the ladder with surprising agility for a man of his age and appeared shortly afterwards with Kleef in tow, the greaser was every bit the picture of his trade, wiry beard, face perpetually covered in old and grease, seamans cap on despite the heat now climbing into the high seventies.
“Mr Kleef” said Hoste with a thin smile
“Captain” replied Kleef gruffly
“Don’t fuck around Kleef, state your business” growled Reardon, Kleef gave the First Mate a scowl and started
“Me an the boys are real unhappy with you taken us through the storm, captain!”
“How many of the ‘Boys’ would that be Mr Kleef” replied Hoste still looking out to sea
“Well quite a few of us” he muttered
“And why would that be Mr Kleef”
“Well on account of you putting us all in mortal danger”
Hoste shook his head “I was under the impression Skyjacks were hard men Mr Kleef that a bit of a storm was day to day life?”
“I think there’s storms and then theres flyin through a hurricane capt, not a man on board would agree with the danger we were all in a day ago” Kleef said insolently
“You’d prefer to be on another ship then Mr Kleef” Hoste replied quietly, Kleef remained silent
“Capt asked you a question Kleef!” barked Reardon
“Of course not because working on the Swift pays you more than 20% better than the going rate” Hoste turned “20% more due to the scientific trips we run which mean we have to stick around and let the scientists study what they’re paying for!”
“Sounds like you and your boys want your cake and eat it Kleef” said Reardon
“Look I didn’t come here to be bullied” Kleef whined
“No but you sure as fuck don’t shut your mouth when your in engineering you ungrateful bastard” sneered Reardon
“Mr Kleef you reason I agreed to hear you out was to remind you of your circumstance, your free to step off on Cinnabar and find another ship, that goes for any of engineering, you might also want to remember that the Swift has been refitted to deal with storm damage, all that secondary cabling and reinforcing”
Kleef frowned but said nothing more, Reardon quickly gestured him to leave and when the pair had made their way back up to the main gantry swung the Greaser around.

“What the fuck is your problem” the old man hissed
“Like I said a bit of extras one thing, suicide flights is another” growled Kleef
“Then fuck off find an easy flight”
“What if I don’t want to” retorted Kleef
“The reason you don’t want too is because you like to stir the shit Kleef, you always have”
“That’s not fair, things were different when you ran the Swift”
“Didn’t stop you making trouble back then and those days are gone”
“Don’t give me that, buy him out take back your ship” said Kleef
“Reardon gave the greaser a look of pure distain “You don’t get it, I said those days are gone, in case you haven’t noticed the Swifts making three times what she did under my watch, that’s why I sold her”
Kleef sneered “What’s he got over you Reardon?”
“You’re a dumb shit Kleef, he’s got youth, he’s a younger man with better ideas, now he might be giving you the nice option, but here’s the deal, you decide if you aint going to get on and stop stirring your gone, I’ll end you Kleef, I aint having stirring down below, if you can’t do it I want you off by sundown”
Kleef was just about to respond when he felt the nudge in his guts, looking down he saw the glint of Reardons large hunting knife “You’re a fucking psycho Reardon” he said as he pushed himself way and stalked off towards engineering.

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Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Mon Feb 18, 2013 10:38 am

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.
Hope Road Boundary County, Idaho – 7.42am
The scarlet Fokker Dr.I banked left and then swept right into a downward assault, Spandau machine guns churned 7.9mm Mauser ammunition across Hope Road.

Sonny grimaced and screwed his face up tight, rather than curse, roadsters ahead of them were being chewed up by their ariel attackers, Hoste watched as the malevolent tri-plane raced over them like a streak of blood across the morning sky.

“IT’LL BE GREAT, HE SAID” started Sonny, spinning the Aston to avoid skidding caddy, its occupants riddled with holes, “BEST RACE OF OUR LIVES HE SAID”
Eddie Hoste rolled his eyes and shook his head, all the while pulling a sturdy leather holdall up from the foot well onto his lap, within a few seconds he had assembled the Steyr Composite carbine contained within.
“JESUS” Sonny finally gave in, as the pursuing bi-planes blanket of fire thudded off the trunk, fortunately the Astons composite armour repelled the assault.
The big man’s gaze momentarily darted to the weapon as Eddie fitted its scope
“THOUGHT WE AGREED NO CHEATIN” shouted Sonny over the roar to the engine, gunfire and the screeching of devastated cars.
“IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED THEY’VE GOT WARPLANES, I DON’T REMEMBER THAT BEING ON THE POSTER AND YOU ARE A FINE ONE TO TALK!" he retorted looking meaningfully down at the roadster then wincing as a cloud of dust swept over the car.
“WELL IN THAT CASE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THEM!” bellowed Sonny as several Mauser rounds punched across the right drivers side and shunted the roadster sideways, and off the concrete.

Fortunately running off road granted them a brief respite, as Sonny performed a quick gear shift, gunned the engine and raced along the slope on the side of Hope Road.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK I’M DOING” retorted Eddie, having finally assembled the Steyr, “WE NEED TO BE BACK ON THE ROAD!”
Sonny nodded and the pair ducked as a Cadillac erupted in flames, careered into an older piece of automotive wreckage and became airborne, descending down over the slope and finishing its death roll on the scrubland below.

The Aston bellowed as the big man let her out “ITS ALRIGHT GIRL”, he said patting the wheel, Hoste for his part thought that his driver had finally lost it, kneeling up on the seat he jammed his right knee against the walnut dash, he then leant the carbine on the oval wind shield and sighted up on the red tri-plane.

The Red Baron swooped into a downward elevation, levelling out at a height of 70 feet and racing towards the four remaining racers, his Jagdstaffel better known as the Flying Circus had fanned out each swooping in turn to harass or destroy the racers from the rear.

Hoste fired, in reality Eddie was no soldier a competent combatant but no real training other than with his Mothers people, however high tech recoil compensation and scopes worked wonders.
The Starburst Flare rounds erupted around the tri-plane, each dissolving in the air and then igniting in a great eruption of light.

“Ficken Hölle!” swore the Red Baron, as his corneas were bombarded by piercing flashes of light
“Was zum Teufel war das?” he grunted as he banked and accelerated, as the Tri-plane thundered past Eddie clicked the dual mags and fired, hitting an ariel target travelling at over a hundred miles an hour from the ground was borderline miraculous for his marksmanship, so he was quite pleased when the plane appeared to shudder from his burst.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST SHOOT HIM WITH BULLETS INSTEAD OF FLARES?” Sonny shouted grumpily and swung to avoid another burnt out vehicle
“HAVE YOU EVER TRIED SHOOTING DOWN A PLANE?”
“NO” replied Sonny
Hoste gave his partner a scathing look as he once again braced himself to face aft, Sonny weaved the Aston as another racer lost its rear end to a lethal volley from above and quickly finished by the next two Fokker D.VII’s, racing past like eager hawks.
Sighting up he switched mags once again and fired, sending a line of Starbursts across the front of the warplanes, Hoste blinked in shock as one of the planes shuddered and started to tumble, one of the rounds having landed in the open cockpit and setting the pilot on fire!
“Holy crap “ he said
“WHAT, WHAT IS IT” bellowed Sonny, annoyed that he couldn’t see
“I GOT ONE”
“ABOUT TIME!”
Eddie looked incredulously at his driver and resumed fire with real ammunition.

“LANS” bellowed the Red Baron as he saw the already blackened plane plummet
“Ficken Arschloch” he snarled as he swung around, ‘How the hell was a marksman from a car able to hit them?’ he mentally cursed

The remaining Fokker’s spread, their pilots shaking the flares effects, unfortunately for the racers daylight had diluted the impact of the flares and the Red Tri-plane was circling back.
“SHIT” hissed Hoste
“WHAT NOW?” shouted Sonny
“THE FLARES AREN’T SLOWING THEM AND I CAN’T TOUCH THEM WITH REAL AMMO!”
“SO WE’RE SITTING DUCKS, WE’RE CLEAR OF THE WRECKAGE AND COVER” the big guy replied
Eddie chastised himself ‘Damnit think Hoste you idiot!’

The Aston broke onto open road, the last of the wreckage passed, the Red Baron fell in with the rest of his Flying Circus, the road now clear of wreckage the surviving racers had nowhere to go, revenge would be sweet.

“GOT IT” shouted Hoste, making Sonny jump
“WHAT”
Hoste ignored him and scrambled around in his pockets cursing as his quarry eluded him, finally he produced the stubby plastic tube with a clear Perspex tip.
He quickly re-positioned himself as one of the bi-planes dropped from formation into a strathing run, “Take this you fucker” he snarled as he activated the device and sent a red beam of light up at the planes pilot, the high intensity laser pen struck the planes wind shield and then flashed across its pliots goggles
“GOTT IM HIMMEL” shouted the blinded pilot as the flickering red light blinded him and he uncontrollably banked right, Hoste flashed the next two to descend, dropped the pen in his lap, replaced both this magazines and opened fire.
Explosive incendiary rounds erupted around the flailing Fokker planes, their pilots experienced enough to compensate for losses of vision due to flack, they however still had to slow their planes to avoid losing control.
The lowest planes engine stalled as its pilot surrendered to panic and it careered into the road, the next felt his plane get struck and a sudden gain in drag as Hoste’s scattershot fire had found its lower wing, the third plane fell victim to Eddies second piece of luck his rounds striking the prop and subsequently engine head on, erupted in flames and straithed the now descending remainder of the Circus with shrapnel.

Furious the Red Baron signalled the survivors of the Flying Circus, each peeled off gaining as much altitude as possible and turning away.
The final Fokker its wing damaged turned slowly to retreat, Hoste having more breathing room sighted up, cold anger crossed his face, he allowed the plane now side on to him to cross his sight and fired, riddling its fuselage with eruptions of explosive fire.
He finally removed himself from his uncomfortable physical wedge and slumped back down in his seat, Sonny said nothing and opened up the throttle.

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Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Mon Feb 18, 2013 11:34 am

Perigord - 7.50am
Boundary County Airspace – The Lockheed Skyliner: The Herald.

William H Fox’s cuban stogie hung from his open mouth purely by being stuck to his his lower lip, his expression was a rare one of pure shocked surprise.

His usual perpetual state of curmudgeon anger smoldered with a degree of indignity, his prize fighter had just been given a bloody nose, of all things a shooter in a car had bested the Flying Circus.

However Fox’s annoyance due to wounded pride was very quickly replaced by his business acumen, what a coup, this race was proving to be one of the best he’d seen in years and shaping up to be the best ever.

“Braunson” he said a great deal more quietly than was usual, his aid cautiously stepped up. bracing himself “Sir”
“Contact our agents at The Cove, I want them to check out that Aston Martin and most importantly its drivers?”
Braunson braced for the customary verbal lashing, but none came, somewhat confused he cut his losses and hurried off to the telegraph cabin.

Hands folded behind his back, William H Fox merely tapped his foot and puffed thoughtfully on his cigar.

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Post by arcanus » Mon Sep 16, 2013 9:20 pm

Cinnabar Island - The Gulf of Guinea, The Equatorial Zone, Oceanus IV
The ceiling fan provided a welcome breeze of refreshing air, Elliot Hoste stood within a long rectangular room, the restaurant was a wooden affair with a thatched roof standing above the waves upon great stilts.

It was a typical Caribbean style construction, minimal flair, weathered wood, no glass just open windows looking out onto the radiant blue ocean.
Deceptive waters thought Hoste filled with monsters, his teeth ached as the Psiorb opened within the bowels of the complex across the lagoon, his visitor had arrived.

It was some hours before she would appear, Elliot settled himself down on a large rattan recliner upon the restaurants balcony, from beneath his shades he watched the Boom net send a sonic pulse out into the waters warding off something inquisitive.
Before he knew it he’d slipped into a restful sleep.

***
Cinnabar Island - The Gulf of Guinea, The Equatorial Zone, Oceanus IV
The swirling blue sphere stood eight feet tall, the energies forming it possessing an almost liquid quality, washing out across the metal decking and steel walls of the chamber.

Devin Stratinski swep his gaze about taking every detail, turning he saw the sphere bulge and allow a fur topped boot emerge, the remainder of the visitor appeared revealing a small but lithe woman of indeterminate age. Sharp features and cold penetrating eyes exchanged a knowing look with her faithful retainer.
“Right” she purred with a deep Russian accent “Let us find my lovelorn youngest” Stratinski silently nodded.

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Post by arcanus » Sun Sep 29, 2013 8:40 pm

The Trade and Tariff Office, Cinnabar Island - Oceanus IV
The woman having stepped out onto the main deck had decided that a change of clothing into something eminently more suitable was required, her home worldlines average temperature was -10°, whereabouts Oceanus equatorial zone was a bright 100°.

Initially distracted from her primary reason for visiting she decided that a quick inspection of her facilities was in order and after an hour of reviewing arrived at the Trade and Tariff office.
The small metal affair resembled a cabin from a World War 2 frigate, a small queue of traders and captains were quickly processed, leaving the clerk and the woman.

The steel walls were segmented by curved metal ribs, joined by heavy rivets, within each panel were picture frames displaying a mixture of group portraits of ship crews and ships.
The rear of the cabin lined with filing cabins, antique scales and barometric devices, all positioned behind a well-worn teak desk, sat behind this desk was a studious balding man in his indeterminate later years.

Anisa Miriv Hoste regarded the man, although he looked the part of the administrator he had the bearing of a man accustomed to the harsher challenges of life.
He diligently completed his ledger before looking up and smiling, Anisa returned a tight lipped smile in return, remaining silent.

“Can I help you maam” he asked with curiosity
She regarded a photograph of a fishing crew, fin hunters, madmen who hunted the great ocean beasts, posing before the corpse of a huge serpentine eel.

“Business is brisk?” she replied
The administrator was slightly taken aback “Uh, yes business is very good!”
Before he could continue she cut in “Still the work must be tedious”
He looked puzzled “Work is work maam”
She turned and locked eyes with him “I meant for one such as you!”
“I’m not sure what you mean”
“I think you know exactly what I’m saying Agent” she stepped up close to him so that he inhaled her fragrance and aroma of Russian tobacco, with that she smiled and strolled from the cabin.

Alighting the stairs taking her to the next deck she gave Stratinski a wry self-satisfied smile to which he returned a stoic raised eyebrow.

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Post by arcanus » Thu Apr 03, 2014 8:59 am

The Gulf of Guinea, The Equatorial Zone, Oceanus IV
Electrorock music blasted out into the quiet night, Cinnabar Island’s rolling hills and industrial complexes were shook by bass guitar, the clash of cymbals and the gravelly tones of Ectophases lead singer.

Despite his predilection for the Classics Professor Stoyne found himself tapping his foot, he looked down upon the throng of people, dockers, fishermen, clerks and admin all side by side.
Cinnabar Island was an artificial island, its landscape sculpted to resemble rolling hills descending down into lagoons, the concert stage had been erected on the main docking platform on the north shore.

Across the island at the southern quays mother and son sat down in La Alegría Restaurant.
The establishment was empty apart from the pair and the staff, the finest seafood fare was placed before them.
“Business is good” started Anisa Miriv Aravich Hoste, a cold piercing eye flicking from her plate to her sons face
“You know it is” he replied without looking up, she frowned in annoyance
“Since when did my youngest son become so wilful?”
“Around 40 years ago mother!”
Anisa pursed her lips, she was a powerful, ruthless woman, not used to insolence or even confidence however it was difficult to exert an iron rule over her children, especially when most of them were in their sixties or seventies.
“You seem troubled Elliot?” her tone softer
He looked up at her suspiciously but said nothing, she scrutinised him and again frowned
“You're not still pining for her!” her tone immediately hardened, one thing Anisa couldn’t tolerate was self pity, weakness!
“That is none of your concern” he replied cooly
“It is every bit my concern when it affects my profits” she retorted icily
“The Gossamer Swift is my ship, bought and paid for by my means, I pay you my tariffs like every other captain, so I hardly think anything will affect your oh so important profits!”
“Now your sounding like your brother, petulant”
“And as usual your talking to your children like employees”
Stratinski looked up from his book, sensing the agitation “Elliot you must show мадам Hoste respect”
Elliot’s face contorted in anger “Go to hell Stratinski, crawl back in your kennel”, the bodyguard made to rise but was frozen by Anisa’s glacial stare, he nodded acceptance that he had transgressed and sat, his gaze immediately returning to his novel
“Elliot, I know you don’t want to hear this but she wasn’t for you, and although I didn’t think her good enough for you…” Elliot rolled his eyes “I respect that she was honest with you!” Anisa finished
Her son let out a sigh and took a long draw of his wine
“So can I expect your brother and yourself at the Winter Ball?”
“I’ll be there however I can’t speak for Eddy” he replied
Her face darkened “Edward, his name is Edward” he merely looked at her in amusement
“Why do my sons have to act like teenagers despite being almost middle aged and your brother he’s worse than you, you used to be the good one” she exclaimed to whatever powers were above, taking a drink herself
“So will he be there or not?”
“I honestly don’t know but I know it means a lot to you so I’ll try and convince him, but if you pester him he’ll dig his heels in” Elliot responded
“I should have never let the pair of you get caught up with that stupid Doctor, neither of you had such delusions of free will or grandeur” she said to no one in particular “At least you’re not associated with him anymore”
“You just don’t like that we’ve struck out by ourselves”
“The least you can do is accompany your old mother for a stroll” she responded, the irony that she looked no older than her late thirties was not lost on Elliot, who stood and offered her his arm.

The two of them walked back along the wharf and started up the grassy slope towards the hills, Stratinski slowly followed at a safe distance.
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arcanus
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Blood Ties

Post by arcanus » Mon May 19, 2014 9:38 pm

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.
Kaniksu Forest, Boundary County - 08.12am
The forest was an old frightful place, its trees ancient, strong but gnarled as if twisted by the yearly bloodbath spilt upon its roots.
Michel D’Voe weaved the Jaguar SS92 racer through its narrow track at heart stopping speed, hitting a straight he opened her up the track narrowing to barely a cars width, a heavy branch bending the driver’s wing mirror.
The thick shrub flashed by, Michel scanned the forest as they approached a bend a flicker of movement grabbed his attention, he gave Augustus a sharp jab in the ribs.

The Prussian lofted a large shotgun like weapon with an impossibly large barrel, bracing himself he let rip releasing an enormous blast and levelled a large area of foliage, the scenery was splattered with blood from an unseen foe.
The pair of them heard gunfire from ahead, figures darted through the trees, Michel looked at the bend ahead almost certainly an ambush “HOLD ON MON AMI”
The Jaguar surged forwards heading straight at the foliage covering the bend in the road, the car bounced as it cleared a hidden ridge and both men bellowed in fear and exhilaration as the sportster sailed down through the air towards the forest floor.

The Jag bounced with bone jarring force as it struck the forest floor, sending snow and old leaves flying, Michel wiped blood from his brow, gunned the spluttering engine which whined in protest, figures slid from the bushes on the slope above them, drawing his service revolver he fired.

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