Smog. Smog fucking everywhere. You would think at some point they would fix those problems but they never do. Ports are invisible to any pirate vessels because, well, who wants to adventure into the mazes of smog. Good breezes though, that's the only plus side. Ships flying past at break neck speeds tend to have a huge effect on that. But anyway. Charles was sitting on a barrel slouched over his radio making a soft and unmistakeable murmur of utter garbage and pigswill.

The deck rocks slowly too and frow as skeever pigions clunck and glide around the rafters and the balloon. Steamport is truely a great place if you can avoid getting robbed or mugged. Looking up from his radio at the port gangplank. Waiting for any takers.

Stephen was walking the docks of Steamport, twirling one of his knives by the tube attached to it and whistling joyfully. Today seemed like a good day. The smog was thick, the port busy, and the people in too much of a hurry to notice when their wallets gone missing. Smoggy days, as were most days here, were good days, but today Stephen had the hunch that it was going to be a great day.

His leather boots creaked as he strode easily around, his eyes always watching from behind his red tinted goggles. Looking for an easy target, and one that would bag him a nice bit of coin. Most people paid him little notice, others only noticed the two pairs of short, blade looking horns, that swept back through his head of shaggy brown hair, and backed away a step. It bother him little, he was used to it, and even come to enjoy it.

An easy smile appeared as Stephen spotted a mark, a pale man sitting upon barrel, listening to a radio. Stephen quickly popped his knife back into it's sheath before walking easily up to the man. "Oi there mate," he said brightly with a smirk. "Yea seem ta be a bit bothered by this here box," tapping the radio with a finger. "'Ow bout I show ya round the block, show ya what this here smoggy bit o port as ta offer? Could take ya to a nice 'ittle pub for a pint if ya interested?" Ain't no worries a mug or two can't fix eh?" Stephen went on as he eyed the man's clothing, trying to find where he hid his cash.

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Looking up from the radio he smiles at the horrneyman. The ship creacked. "I doubt some ale will fix my radio. Thankyou for the offer though" He knew this man was truoble. Horned humans are never a good sign. They will always have a air of mischeif. Dirty theives the lot of them, the only cause of Steamports downfall... definatly not corruption. He could feel his purse on the back of his trousers as he looked him up and down, watching his knives and checking if he had a menacing look in his eye. All he saw was confidence, lots and lots of self depricating confidence. "I am looking for men to adventure. You know anyone?"

Stephen's eyes brightened behind his goggles. This man wasn't just a target, he was a target with more than he had available to the eyes. This was something worth invested time. "Adventure ya say?" Stephen asked as he plopped down on a barrel beside the pale man. "Well I know plenty o' people round this bit that would do ya good. The problem bein though, they ain't the most kindly, not like me ya see. Me I'm a honest man, but I could point out the ones ya don't want." Stephen put a casual arm around the man's shoulders and pulled him close. "Like this bloke 'ere" he nodded his head towards a large man leaning against a building. "He 'as a strong arm sure, but 'e'll snap yer neck and rob ya corpse soon as ya turn yer back on him. Then there's one's like 'im over there," gesturing to a scraggly little kid in rags for cloths. "All sweet right? Wrong, boy 'as the fastest hands in the port. Can snatch yer coin 'fore ya know he was there."

Stephen released the man and leaned back a bit, locking his hands behind his head. "If yer lookin for honest men though, well I guess I could clear up me schedule a bit, but that depends on what this 'ittle venture as ta offer, o course," he said with a smirk as his keen eyes stared at the man.

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@Demon Grave
He sighed at them. "Ill take anyone I can get, the ships been here a few days too long and soon ill lose her to the dogs." he had his eyes looking over at him "Say where you all from in steam-port, doubt ive seen any of you around here." they had a look about them, trouble makers. What made it worse was how they were dressed, ragged. Looks of men who have not washed for a while or even got a real jobs. Men who have seen the glint of the blade a few seconds before the glint of the coins. Men who don't know anything about eticet... And that's just what he needed. However the way he was talking, the way Charles often saw his eyes looking him up and down, sizing him up as a mark. Looking at him now he could see a few daggers sticking out. In a nonchalant voice he asked "Well that always depends on how much it costs to clear you obviously... honest job secdual" Flashing him a smile he started fiddling with the nobs on his radio only getting static.

At the mention of a ship Stephen's eyes darted around taking in the many ships at the docks. A ship was something that meant more than just a transport, it meant a way to remove himself from the smog. To lift more than just his spirits, to lift himself from the grime of the city and breath fresh air for the first time in his life. Not to mention a chance to swipe it for himself and live like a king among the clouds.

"I meself ain't from Steamport. I came 'ere a bit ago from another smog covered city covered in shite like this one 'ere." Stephen said with a shrug. His mind racing with the possibilities a ship implicated. Along with what prospects the venture this man was offering. Might be worth his time to go along and claim both the ship and whatever this venture paid off. "As for me schedule, the price ain't so high. Just split whatever this venture of yours has ta offer and you'll have the skills of the fastest fingers come to reside in this 'ere city." He added before dangling the man's coin pouch before his eyes. A satisfied smirk upon his lips.

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Chalres just shurged and looked around. He could feel his muskets on his leg. The left side of him was clear, and no one on the dock yard would dare come close to a fight. He could take the kid down, he was still yet to meet a kid who could out run a bullet. The meat head could be dispatched too, slowness still cant beat a bullet to its target. However, his new friend was different story. Charles only had two guns, one round i each, if he makes a move it will have to come down to a one on one. He had no idea if this guy was any good at this, however if he can slip a purse from him he must be fast.

Taking a deep breath he leaped from his barrel to the side landing on his side with his two pistloes drawn in mid air he used his power to slow time and take aim at his friends. When he landed he was ready to kill both his friends if any of the three moved "No body move"

Edgar peered eagerly from out of the window as the train arrived into the docks of Steamport. The train station. He stood up, grabbing hold of his 2 luggage cases from the overhead carriage. As he stepped from off the train to the platform, he felt the smog seep into his nostrils; a lifetime of aristocracy in a much more richer place than Steamport made his surroundings a bit stranger, and more intimidating than Edgar had imagined. He made his way through the small station and out into the port proper. Stopping for a second, he placed on luggagecase up on a low wall, opening it up. He looked into the case, at the strange looking mechanical device inside it. As he tapped it with his finger, it sprang into life, popping up on 8 legs. It made a strange little whirring noise, which, in some strange way had the essence of a cats purr about it. A smile crossed Edgar’s face.

“ Come on, Archie.” He said, turning around to face away from Archie, and holding his arms up. The mechanical spider crept out of the luggage case and crawled onto his back, it’s front pair of legs stretching over his shoulders, while it’s other 3 pairs went under his arms and wrapped around his abdomen. He closed up the luggage case and continued forward.

He asked around a few people if they knew anything of the radio message for crew needed he had heard as he wandered through the port, though he received no useful information, and a few hostile reactions for seemingly no reason. He ventured on, undeterred, until he saw two fellows chatting, one looking a bit worse for wear, the other more well kempt one was sat on a barrel, tinkering with a radio. He stepped over to them. He approached them, but as he did so he saw two more men approach, and the man sat on the barrel jump down, drawing two pistols. He approached, his hands out in front of him.

" Excuse me chaps, whatever problem you're having, I'm sure that there's no need for bloodshed." He said, as Archie clambered over his shoulder, and leapt on to the barrel the man had previously been sat on. As it landed, it's legs hung over the side of the barrel, and dug into the sides to give it grip, as it's turret deployed from a slot on the back of it's abdomen.
" Though I do like having a backup plan, in case the diplomatic approach doesn't work." He said, a smile on his face. " So what's the issue? Let's see if this can't be resolved peacefully, like gentlemen."

As soon as the pale man jumped up off his barrel Stephen dropped the coin purse and had his hands upon his twin steam knives. His thumbs poised above the triggers that would release a blast of thick white steam from the blades.

A split second from pressing the triggers another man approached. This one had an odd looking backpack that then jumped from his back and onto the now empty barrel. It looked like a mechanical spider, that produced a small gun from its back. If Stephen wasn't on edge he would have whistled in approval.

Turning back to the new man Stephen glared through his red tinted goggles as he gripped his knives tight in his leather clad hands. "Oi! I ain't done nothin' wrong! I was just showin' this 'ere 'igh an mighty bastard me skills and 'e goes and draws irons on me!" Stephen hollered as he made a slight motion for his two boys to back off as they looked ready to pounce. Good boys though, no need to tell them to jump in when things went sour.