Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Rocky and Bullwinkle

Day 3 - Morning

*chuff* *chuff* *chuff*

*thwop* *thwop* *thwop*

Can feel the steam engine thumping through the floor like a heartbeat. Hear propellers, longer than I am tall, chop the air. The wood around me creaks and pops as it flexes. And above it all is the wind. An endless current constantly pushing us onward.

I’m lying in a bed. Well, a "berth" attached to the wall. Waking up after my first sleep since I landed on this world. A surprisingly restful snooze. The mattress is comfy and large. Space for two or even three. If they're, "friendly."

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Actually got my own room. Fairly nice one too. But everything on board is about maximizing space. All the furniture is either bolted to the floor or walls. And what's secured to the walls folds up into it when not in use.

This vessel is some bizarre hybrid of an old sailing ship, zeppelin and submarine. With exposed pipes running everywhere.

But don't think it's lacking in luxuries. There's even a little "en suite" bathroom. With a, thank you Jesus, toilet and shower. Plus hot water! Had to be a quick wash because it's rationed but god damn did it feel good.

Was given this room after they hauled me aboard. Of course they wouldn’t land in a gob infested ruin. So I had the joy of climbing a rope ladder.

Yep, gob infested. Sure they probably killed a hundred or two. But there are sure as shit hundreds more. It will likely take a veteran company an entire week to purge the place. Rooting out and collapsing all their dens and hidey holes. It is messy bloody work done best by dwarf and gnome teams.

Expensive too. But the only way to make the town safe and habitable again.

Fucking cockroaches.

Oh, at least on Ipra it was. Not sure how it is here but the goblins look and act similar. The orcs seem a bit, uh, off though.

Yesterday's shouter silhouetted by the sun was Captain Wendel Micajah Wyverstone. 

Right, middle names are a thing for this bunch. An important enough thing that they actually make sure to say them when introducing themselves. Then promptly expect you to ignore them. Just saying their last or, if close, first names.

Tried warning about the hob. If he’s alive, or there are more, it will make retaking the town a lot harder.

But all I got back was, “By Calvin, what is a hobgoblin?” Leaving me to quietly ponder.

Who the fuck is Calvin?

Now I’m not stupid enough to bite the hand that feeds. Or holds my ticket out of here. So after describing their differences with gobs didn’t help? I dropped it. These guys are definitely not locals, dialect is way off, so maybe they don’t got hobbies back home.

And as I was climbing that annoying ass rope ladder. Finally got a good look at this “airship,” without the sun in my eyes.

It has two parts. The hull and the bag.

The "hull" is the bottom part and looks a lot like an old wooden sailing ship. Complete with a raised bow and stern. Its outside is entirely plated in a copper alloy, according to [Analysis]. And I say plated because it's thin and behind it is mostly wood.

Didn't take a sample because it's positively buzzing with mana and I didn't want to risk triggering some alarm.

Passed a couple gun ports on my awkward climb, could smell the black powder, but they had already been closed. This part, amidships, is just solid hull. But I do see windows in the fore and aft castles.

In-between the hull and bag are several wide sails sticking out the sides. Must be an impressive amount of canvas but they are all reeled in and tied to the masts and yards at the moment.

Above is the bag. Sort of cigar shaped. Longer and wider than the hull. Plenty of ropes tie the two together but they are also physically touching at the forecastle, aftcastle and amidships mast.

Looks to be a rigid frame lift bag. Meaning Hindenburg instead of Goodyear Blimp.

Can see propellers at the front and back but, right now, they are mostly blocked from my sight by the hull.

Once I finally reached the top, two blokes roughly pulled me over the gunwale. And dropped me flat onto the deck. The laughter that followed made it clear this was done on purpose. 

No, I didn't get mad. These guys did me a solid. And they know it. So a bit of hazing is to be expected.

Now I'm not going to say I would have lost against a hob and a hundred plus gobs. But I would admit that I might not have won either. If that question were to ever be asked.

The loudest laugh is right in front of me. Who grabs my shoulders and easily lifts me back up on my feet. Patting my shoulders to loosen up the dirt and goblin bits I've been dusted with thanks to their artillery.

And I say easily lifted because this guy is big. Like Arnold in his glory days, big. Fucking swole.

I chose to stay under six feet so I would be taller than most. But not stand out too much. This dude has got to be pushing seven. Momma must have been mixing her breast milk with steroids.

His guffawing sounds like boulders colliding. That settles it. You are now "Rocky." Though with how tall you are maybe I should name you Bullwinkle instead.

"Hello! Welcome aboard the R.A.S Discovery." Voice is gravelly too. "Captain Wendel Micajah Wyverstone, at your service."

Motions me to a stool while grabbing a seat for himself. His cronies go back to whatever it is cronies do.

Getting a good look at him. He looks ridiculous. His outfit is definitely old timey. Like Victorian. Or maybe Civil War-ish. But he's not dressed in civvies. Nope, got a fancy officers uniform on.

Dark blue tailcoat with gold buttons and epaulets. Tan waistcoat. Straight white shirt and dark blue trousers. Black boots and now dirty white gloves. A black cocked hat finishes the ensemble.

Has a rapier on one hip and a revolver on the other, like me. But his are artistically etched and polished to a silvery shine. In contrast, a well used brass compass hangs from his neck on a sturdy chain. While a brass spyglass and pair of goggles hang from his belt.

Rocky is older, caucassian, and getting on in years. With crows feet and some grey in his black hair and pencil stache. Now, unlike the town, there are some darker skinned crewmembers running about too. Making me ponder just how big their country is.

Maybe this is their colonial era? So they have people from all over?

Big guy noticed me checking out his duds and chuckles.

"My apologies, good sir." Motions to his clothes. "The ship owner prefers we keep appearances up whenever possible." Blocks the side of his mouth like he's being secretive. "Most folks cannot tell the difference between the Anglean flag and the Anglean navy's flag. It's even more confusing if we wear their uniform." Leans back and shrugs. "This helps us avoid unnecessary… entanglements."

Slaps his knee.

"So! That was a very impressive display of gunmanship and steadiness under fire you put on. Rivalling even veteran adventurers and mercenaries." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "However, [Identify] shows bottom of the boiler levels and a non combat class? Not even support?" He's suspicious. "Your storage rings are mostly full of raw materials. Quite a few crowns worth. While that revolver and those grenades are unlike any I have ever seen."

They can see inside my rings? Mother…

Now I'm annoyed. Glance around to see most of the crew is doing, uh, crew things. Cleaning, fixing, etc… And armed with a knife or axe at best. But further down the gunwale, to my right and left, several crew are suspiciously loitering. Much more heavily armed several crew.

Son of a bitch.

Rocky sees my scowl and raises his hands.

"Seems I must apologize again." Rubs his chin. "The owner's father was quite… concerned. So ensured this new vessel had the best of everything." Smiles again. "Including auguries." Hands again. "Yes, it is considered rude. However, I would sincerely regret angering a count more. So I can only hope you will understand my predicament."

How pissy did I want to be? Answer? Not much. Again, these guys can get me where I need a lot sooner than walking. And who knows when the next ship will get here. So still need to play nice.

I begrudgingly nod.

Which makes Rocky appear genuinely relieved. Even puts a hand on his chest. 

"Thank you. Men of action like us should always endeavor to be courteous." Squints. "And no matter what the auguries say? I am confident you are still hiding a great deal." A loud clap. "Then, let us set this difficulty behind us. Please, stranger, put our minds at ease. Tell us about yourself. Where are you from and how, hehe, did you end up in this backwater?"

…

*screeching brakes*

Oh crap, where am I from? The surviving townies will know I'm not a local. Jesper never heard of otherworlders but have these guys? Do they have a good rep or bad?

Shit, better lie. Did Jesper ever see a world map? Yes! The priests showed him one. Okay… bunch of nations down south. Ocean past that. "Here be dragons," to the east and west. Damn, let's flip a coin. Fifty-fifty chance.

"I'm from out west. Far, far, west."

"Oh? Traveled through there a passing time myself.” Crap. Who knows how old that map was. “I do not recognize your surname but [Identify] confirms it is the truth." Even more suspicious of me. "Where in the west? Perhaps I have heard of it."

"The, uh, Alamo. In the, um, Republic of Texas."

Yeah, it sucks. But cut me some slack. Using this revolver keeps reminding me of cowboys and the wild west.

*ding*

Oh, shut up.

Rocky stands up. Knocking his stool over.

"So, you are a radical then."

Say what now?

Big guy's attitude has done a one-eighty. From fake friendliness to guarded hostility. Those suspiciously loitering crew stop pretending and begin to encircle me.

Oh, right, the crew wear a short loose light blue jacket over a white shirt and loose light blue trousers. Black shoes, black neckerchief and a black oversized floppy beret. 

I slowly stand up and start inching my twitchy fingers towards the revolver while palming a firenade. Big guy is only a pace or two away. May be too close to draw on.

Lock eyes with Rocky and keep peripherals on his crew. Can about hear a tune from Ennio Morricone begin in the background.

Bet the bastards are just jealous of my sex symbol stache.

Zoom into my eyes.

Zoom into his eyes.

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Zoom into- damn I really need a harmonica. This would be so much cooler with a harmonica. And spurs. Can't forget the spurs.

Hey, mini me's, how long would it take to make a harmonica? What do you mean you don't know how to make one? It's a harmonica. No, I don't know how to make one. That's your job. No, I'm the ideas guy.

Uncountable multitudes of itty bitties throw their hands in the air. Exasperated. 

"Captain? Whatever are you doing with my guest? Explain please."

A woman's voice interrupts the duel scene. I look left to see a beautiful young woman exiting the aftcastle.

Ay caramba. Kowalski, analysis.

Height? 5'6". Body? Hourglass. 38-24-35. Breasts? DD-cup, round. Butt? Heart shaped. Skin? Fair, but tanned. Hair? Light brown, long, pinned. Face? Oval. Eyes? Hazel. Nose? Snub. Lips? Thin.

Verdict? Ooh lala.

Her face and voice remind me of Kate Beckinsale from Underworld. An actress I know well because it was Val's favorite movie. 

Huh, a vampire liking a vampire movie? Whodathunkit?

This girl is a lot "bustier'' though. And dressed in her steampunk heroine best.

Red leather tailcoat. Brown leather and brass pauldron on the left shoulder secured by a chest crossing strap. Buckled gun belt with a revolver, spyglass and compass closing the coat at the waist. Hard black leather corset over puffy white silk shirt. Tan breeches run down into knee high black leather boots. Lastly, a black felt top hat with goggles.

But what really catches my eye? On top of all this other eye candy?

Is the five foot long rifled musket she's cradling in her arms. A long copper tube runs along the top of it. Looking like a scope. Can smell the lead and burnt gunpowder.

This woman was one of the snipers.

I should thank her.

A lot.

But before I can start expressing my gratitude. Rocky rumbles to defend himself.

"Your ladyship, he identified himself as a republican. And is able to confound the auguries. Probably a radicalist agent. I was about to detain him. He may be responsible for the orc attack."

Mister Wyverstone sounds convinced that he's right. But pretty lady ain't buying it. An older man's voice comes up from behind her.

"Hmm? What nonsense are you spouting, Wendel?" 

A senior citizen with unkempt white hair and beard comes out from behind the babe. Looking a little Mark Twainy. He's wearing a tan vest over a white shirt. With brown and red tartan trousers. And goggles in his hair.

What really stands out though is the huge leather apron he's wearing. Covered in stains and scorch marks. On both sides are numerous pockets and straps. Filled with tools. Most of which I don't recognize.

Wearing big leather gloves he clumsily pulls his goggles down. Then flips over several of the multiple lenses around the right eye. Which gain an odd sort of glow.

"How about I take a gander." Steps closer and stares at me. "Hmm… This gentleman certainly does not look Queronese. Nor Anglean. If anything he looks more Zeinlunder." Walks closer and flips another lense. "Eh? Goodness me, a technomancer? Never heard of that… class… before?"

The geezer tilts his head one way then the other. Staring so hard at me that it's starting to feel uncomfortable. His slouched posture suddenly straightens up and he mumbles.

"Oh my."

Turns to El Capitan while pointing a leather gloved finger my way.

"He's with me. No touchy."

Then faces the lady in red.

"Niece, I must examine the telescoptric magnifix enhancer device now. Come with me."

The mad scientist resumes his slouched posture and walks back to the aftcastle. Muttering the whole time with his hands crossed behind his back.

Hear a huge sigh to my right and see Cappy massaging his forehead. Guessing this isn't the first time the aproned geezer has pulled rank on him.

He faces the future ex Mrs Barton and begs, "Your ladyship, please."

But she doesn't even spare a glance his way. Nope, keeps gazing at me. And not just this handsome face either. Her eyes rove all over the magnificent miracle of masculine machismo I humbly refer to as, "my body."

*ahem*

Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?

Finally, finished giving me her own version of a cat scan. Sniper girl turns around and follows senior citizen. Speaking as she walks away.

"You know how he gets, Captain. Humor uncle, would you? And me too." Waves. "Give him brother's room." One last look at me over her shoulder. "Welcome aboard, Jon."

Would swear she’s swinging those hips just for me as she disappears through a door into the airship's stern.

Despite all the crew still milling about. The main deck suddenly feels… empty. Lonely. There's just me and the grinding sound of Rocky's teeth.

An hour later I'm back on the ground. This time on the other side of the river. Cappy and company are donating some supplies, giving medical aid and explaining over and over why they won't stay to fight the goblins for them.

Never ceases to amaze me, how shameless some people can be.

Message birds have already been sent. So a relief force should get here in a couple of weeks. According to Cappy at least. What am I doing? Loitering, mostly. Seeing who I recognize. Who I don't. It's a very stra-

"Hello? Sir? Excuse me?"

Instantly know that voice. Slowly turn around to see Sally shyly looking up at me.

No, she's not the prettiest girl. Nor the smartest. Downright average, in fact. Maybe even a little below. But she was Jesper’s first. He often daydreamed about marrying her and starting a family.

"Yes?" I reply as kindly as I can manage.

"I know it's not likely but… can you tell me if you saw someone," points hesitantly, "over there?"

Remember to be nice. 

"Sure." 

Girl’s been through hell and it's likely going to be rough for a while longer.

"He's a bit taller than me, blonde, and young. His eyes are kind of big but squints a lot." Fidget fingers. "Has the cutest dimple when he smiles. And answers to Jesper. Did you see him? Sir? Was he okay?"

Holy shit, she's talking about me! Well, him, but hot damn! Jesper had himself a good girl. 

What’s left of him inside me is jumping for joy and dancing a jig.

"Pardon me ma'am." Tip my hat. "Sorry, but I didn't see him."

"Oh… I see. Thank you." I should go. "Uh, then did you see a man a bit older than him? With black hair?” Eh? “Has a tan and is missing a tooth.” Blushes. “But just so big down, um, you know. Answers to Alban.” Looks up hopefully. “Did you see him?”

Alban? From the tannery? Why you two timing bitch! Can’t believe I, he, ever liked you!

It's a struggle but manage to just shake my head no. Really shouldn't start yelling at her. Not like we were actually dating or anything.

“Oh… I see.” Time to escape. “Maybe you saw a younger man then? Cutest green eyes and would squeak when you pinched his…" Is that drool? "Really long flexible fingers too. Named Willman?”

The pastor’s son? My god, was he even… Just… What the fuck is wrong with you lady?!

“Oh… how about an older man? He’s kind of slow, because of only having the one leg.” Smiles. “That bushy beard always tickled." Nods to herself. "But in a good way. Front or back.”

Pegleg Pete? The guy’s like a hundred years old! Christ woman, are you a sexual predator? Are you registered somewhere? Have to notify them whenever you move?

Can’t look at her any more and just keep shaking my head.

“Oh… then-”

“Ma’am? Please, stop.” Raise a hand. “I beg your pardon but I didn't see anyone over there, besides the goblins. Alive or… otherwise.” Saved by the horn. The airship’s horn sounds. “Now I must really be going.” Hat tip. “May the fire favor you.”

Repeat one of the canned hasta la vista lines Jesper learned from the priests and retreat to the airship with all the dignity I can muster. Which ain’t a whole lot right now.

Hey, micro minions, you can check for STD’s, right? And cure them, right? Whew, thank you and hallelujah. Oh, you already checked and fixed them? Sweet, thanks little-eh? 

!!!

He had how many!?!

Pause and look back at Sally who is working at the ad hoc tavern that’s been setup. The clearly sad girl being comforted by one, no, two guys already.

Yep, she'll be back on her feet in no time. And knees. And back. And then knees again. And then back again. Probably on top of all the furniture too.

Think I’ll just go with “she has a big heart,” and move on.

Yes, a big heart, and more crabs than the beach.

Geesh.

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