Dieter loathed questions, especially when they were asked in blindingly quick succession. It was but a trait he had picked up when the mercenary was once taken as a captive in Canth; the interrogation had been long, ardous, and unsettlingly violent. Coupled with his reserved sense of self and typical stoicism, Sigrun's torrent of questions, while appearing to be of a more curious intention, make the typically unflinching man uncomfortable. Had his chin not been split open by an idiotic slip up, the grizzled, taciturn mercenary would be long gone by now; but, being here without so much as a choice, he decides to give her an appropriated response. There's only so much you can do when your chin is on the fringe of getting a few stitches. As such, the warrior went to speak; yet found no voice within himself. When was the last time he'd drunken water? It must've been the adrenaline, he thinks, prior to sinking into his seat and gritting his teeth as the knowing figure before him sinks a needle into his split chin; gripping the poor, bloodied arm rests for dear life, white knuckled beneath those dark gloves of his.

He's no stranger to pain; as a matter of fact, the grizzled, combat-weary soldier has basically come to grips with the idea that his job puts him in the way of pain, and possibly death. Such is the way of war; and he was no stranger to conflict. Indeed, the question this physician had presented him sent a flurry of bloody, hazy memories through his taxed mind, emotion striking hard besides them; now he had two reasons to grip those arm rests so toughly. Where hadn't he fought? It seemed as if though Dieter had circumvented the entirety of the known world, killing and maiming for a living. At least, that's what it felt like.

Pulling the finely-honed trigger of his rifle on a rogue Canthian Artillery Officer; ah, his ornate helmet had soared through the air, still coated in his head's blasted remains. Running a Ventui Rebel's own blade through his ragged gut... God, he still remembers the look in his eyes; the memory of a man's life quickly draining from those frightened, shimmering orbs is one hard to forget. There were many, many more experiences he could recall, despite his best intents of suppressing them. Once, he had etched the number of his dispatched combatants onto the butt of his rifle; once he ran out of space, however... he simply stopped. These cruel markings are clearly visible now, that dark, finely-calibrated death bringer now taking up the seat besides him, almost as if it were its own entity.

The wounded warrior for hire looks up then, regarding his medic's careful, calculating eyes with his own grayed, pained ones. Blue.. it reminded him of a village innkeeper's, a girl he had... tried so, so very hard to protect. He had been one of hundreds of Ghersland soldiers, sent as a detachment to help protect and defend the distant land of Ysmir; how the land was covered in pristine, white snow... how the immaculate, cold snow was stained by hot, crimson blood. Suppressing the thought, he shivers; flinching as Sigrun pierces his blood-encrusted skin a second time, sighing once the girl does. Once she pulls it tight, he finally finds his hoarse, growl of a voice; disregarding her questions entirely, and presenting his own. 

"Are you.. of Ysmir?" The gruff soldier would croak, searching the Doc's eyes for some kind of answer. Dieter couldn't help but disregard her questions; they'd drifted from his mind, overtaken by memories painful and of a distasteful kind. His own curiosity had taken over, like a method of self preservation. Even so, such a fickle response may seem rude.

Lower Deck One

A strange sense of calm came over Ed as they fought the flames back. Sure, they were right across the hall from certain death, but the sailors acted as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Behind him one of the men roared at him instructions on using the hose. He felt a sudden rush of exhilaration as he reached forward with his free hand and pulled back the lever with a shout. Water erupted out of the end, blasting the fire in front of them with all the fury of the ocean. That was where the water was coming from, Edward guessed, since they couldn't have been carrying that much water on board without drastically increasing the weight. Saltwater, then.

To either side of him, there were more people on the hoses. Ed recognized that Constance lady on one side, looking very disgruntled about having to have anything to do with this. Apparently have to actually earn her keep on the boat was a foreign concept to her. She seemed to almost be struggling with the hose until Captain Conway stepped up behind her and supported her hose with her. "Come on, lass! This 'ere fire's the least of our worries if we quit now. Brace yerself and pull on that lever!"

Behind him the man Ed thought he recognized as the pilot supported his hose, and to the other side stood Luna and someone Ed didn't quite recognize, but it looked like he knew what he was doing too.

It was slow going: the fire was raging hard, violently resisting all attempts to put it under control. For a time it seemed like they wouldn't be able to control the flames, but then the grizzled sailor Edward recognized from the mess hall stepped up with another hose. "Not today, you Godless hellspawn!" Then another torrent of seawater joined the rest.

A sudden lurch of the boat threw them all to one side, giving the fire a chance to breathe once more. "On the blasted thing, everyone!" Conway heaved Constance to her feet, pointing at the rest of them. "We're nearly out o' this, I can promise ye that! The worst of it's behind us now." He re-aimed his hose, and Edward followed suit.

Slowly and surely, the fire's licks of heat retreated, beaten back again and again by the sputtering gouts of water. They were doing it! Edward couldn't stop a fierce smile from breaking out. When they'd left, he'd hardly expected to be thrown so utterly into the fray of adventure. He'd expected to be sitting down and taking notes, not slipping around the ship while the waves pounded against them.

This was living!

He outright laughed when the last little burp of fire disappeared under the downpours. "And fuck off!" he shouted, pumping his fist in a totally un-cool facsimile of victory.

It didn't last long, however, as a voice came on over the PA system. "Head's up, Cap'n. There's a hundred-footer between us and safety. The Garrloch can make it over, but we're going to be tossed around a fair bit. We'll be hitting in fifteen seconds, tops. Everyone brace for impact."

Conway reacted with much more grace than the rest of them. He grabbed the nearest person to him, who just so happened to be Constance, and dropped to the floor. "Hit the deck and grab ahold o' somethin'!" The captain roared.

"Shit," Edward breathed, as the groaning metal of the ship tilted beneath his feet. A hundred foot wave? It seemed like something that they were prepared for, but the mere sound of the words sent ice down his spine. His feet slipped out from under him with a sudden lurch, and he hit the ground hard.

All the saltwater they had blasted the fire with receded as the ship tilted, with gallons of the stuff pooling down at the end of the hall. It appeared that the door had been sealed, and good thing too, or who knew what damage that water would do. Unfortunately it meant a dazed and in pain Edward was now slipping down the tilted deck toward the surprisingly deep pool of saltwater.

"Help," he managed to croak, but he was still too stunned to move.

Lower Deck One

Luna fought with the hose, fought for every second she had water on the fire. She fought every millisecond it seemed like, for that precious control. It was, she knew, life and death. And yet the hose didn't seem to care, as it tried to constantly lift her off her feet. She knew that if she lost her feet, she was a goner. The flames, or the sea would have her. And that wasn't going to happen, no matter how terrified she was, no matter the fact she wanted to run back to the mess hall, away from the fire. I'm not going to die here, not today, not now. I won't let it happen She cursed outloud, "Damn you great water spitting snake, I CONTROL YOU DAMN IT" she didn't care if anyone heard her. She turned the hose with all her strength, pushing down on it with all her weight to keep her feet on the deck, to aim the hose to the fire.

And then all at once it became easier, as she felt someone move their arms around her, helping her control the hose, looking back at the crew member, she flashed him a smile. That seemed the easiest thing to do right then, that smile, despite the seriousness of the situation. He didn't try to take the hose from her, to completely control it, and to leave her standing there useless. Instead, he merely helped, and that meant a lot to Luna. So she smiled, a brief, quick flash, before turning back to the fire, the hose that was now easier to control in her hands.

She leaned back against the crew member, planting her feet more firmly now, and kept firing the water, keeping it trained on the fire with ease now. "Thank you" She said over the noise. She didn't care what it seemed like, leaning back into a man she didn't know. It was life and death, and thats all that mattered. As the fire continued to die, even with the sudden lurch of the ship, Luna allowed one brief moment to catch her breath, and then the worst seemed over. For a nano second.

"Is anyone hurt? I'm one of the medical staff" She managed to get out, turning to the crew member that had helped her, intending to thank him again, as the order came to hit the deck. She didn't hesitate. she didn't think. She just latched herself onto the guy, figuring that it would be harder to be swept away attached to him, then if she had merely hit the deck. "Looks like its a day for you to just save my hide, huh?" She said, with that quick easy grin, an apologetic tone in her voice despite it.

That was all she had time for. Everything seemed to happen at once, and then with a curse, sounding so unlady like, and she scrambled away from the crew member, looking back just once and shouting "He's going to be too heavy for me, move your butt! The most I can do is slow his descent!" Her own pain, her own fear, was pushed back, the instant need to protect, to save a life pushing it all back. She lounged for Edward, grabbing whatever she could to hold onto, to try and stop the inevitable submerging into the sea water.

She didn't think. It was all instinct, as she caught her feet around something hard, a pole mayber, she dind't know, and threw a leg around it. Already holding Edwards weight was straining Luna, her already tired muscles shaking, weakening. "Damn it!" She shouted out, her voice hoarse from the smoke of the fire, her eyes stinging. She could feel the weight of her medical supply bag, and wondered how she hadn't lost that yet. She managed to get a better grip on Edward, wondering how long they had until the wave hit.

She sent a silent prayer, to whatever was listening out there in the universe. I am not losing someone on my first day, damn it! Give me strength, don't let me drop him! She thought wildly, gripping to Edward as tightly as she could. "I've got you. I'm not going to let go" She promised, She was glad for her short cut hair, it would have been a pain to have that in her eyes.

Sigrun froze, her lips parted in a silent gasp after the injured fighter asked his question. While the question itself had shocked her, the way he'd looked at her when he'd asked it made it infinitely worse. Contrary to what she'd read in the raunchy romance stories printed by the Highwall Herald, the curious gleam in this man's eyes didn't fill her with passion or longing. It filled her with anger and revulsion. Those slightly bloodshot, colorless eyes reminded Sigi of her mother's eyes. And the look he was giving her was eerily similar to the look Svala Alfhild an Tallak had given her when she'd been exiled. Like she was a stranger, an oddity to be ogled. Sigrun's mouth felt incredibly dry and she shook her head, telling herself she was overreacting. Swiping some residual blood off the man's chin with one of her wet rags, the stormborn medic stalked away, stopping by Bronson's cot to pick up the bottle of homemade corn whiskey she'd found. She took off the cap and took a long swig, walking over to the granite counter and leaning against it. Her eyes were like two chips of ice as she glared at the warrior.

"And what if I am of Ysmir, buca?" she asked, her voice as cold as the winds that blew across her homeland. Sigrun forced herself to casually gulp down another mouthful of whiskey. "Are you going to kill me?"

In the ensuing silence, Bronson propped himself up on his elbows and asked, "Uhhh...should I go or-?"

"Shut up and lay down," Sigrun snapped and the flabby mariner wordlessly settled back onto his cot, his eyes wide with fear. Sigi's gaze never left her other patient's face. That lined and haggard face. Was it the face of someone who'd leave a note written in human blood? Someone who would kill any vrykul he encountered? Glancing at the travel-stained rifle resting beside the grizzled fighter, Sigrun put down her rag and bottle while slowly moving her right hand closer to one of the linen pouches on the counter. This particular pouch was full of waxy black leaves covered in a clear, tasteless oil. When mixed with warm water, the oil secreted by dalamud leaves could be used to make a powerful sedative. If the oil touched bare skin, however, it would immediately cause painful blisters to appear. Sigrun felt a trickle of cold sweat ooze down the back of her neck. Could she grab a handful of leaves and throw them at this man before he shot her? Her knife and pistol were hanging from her belt, but she'd need time to use them.

Biting her lower lip, Sigrun tried to remember how long it had been since she'd killed someone. With a jolt, she realized she'd killed two men less than a week ago. They'd tried to rob her after she crossed the border separating Ghersland from Canth. Their bodies were probably still rotting quietly in the ditch by the side of the road where she'd left them.

Brushing her bangs back so the bearded stranger could see the spiral branded onto her forehead, Sigrun asked, "So, what's it going to be, buca? Are you here to kill the vrykul?"

And that's when everything began to tilt backwards. Sigrun opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Life really was full of unpleasant surprises, the stormborn thought to herself as she found herself sliding toward the med bay's doors. Somewhat belatedly, she heard a voice over the intercom saying, "Head's up, Cap'n. There's a hundred-footer between us and safety. The Garrloch can make it over, but we're going to be tossed around a fair bit. We'll be hitting in fifteen seconds, tops. Everyone brace for impact."

The shorter woman looked back as Armas settled in behind to help her, giving him a brief, warm smile. His feet planted wide to absorb the force of the water, he wrapped one arm around the hose and the other around the woman herself, trying to keep her steady as she kept the nozzle pointed at the fire. He felt her stance change, leaning into him to take advantage of his mass. He dimly heard her thank him over the din and smoke and grinned back at her, though she couldn't see it "No worries! Just keep it up."

The flames roared and danced in defiance as they continue to pour gallons of freezing saltwater into the blaze. He was aware of the other passengers abd crew manning their own hoses around them, a variety of expressions on their faces as they continued to battle the blaze. Surprisngly the rich industrialist lady was closest to the action, along with the Captain, who was spotting her on the hose. For an eternal few minutes they seemed to be at a stalemate with the fierce fire, the heat rolling off it in waves as it resisted their combined efforts to quench it. The adrenaline pumping through his veins doing a great job at dispelling the fear that had settled in his stomach like a snake. He'd been on some rough waters before - but the worst waters in all the UI weren't a drop in the ocean compared to The Ring in all it's fury at the attempted escapees.

The stalemate was finally broken as another crewman dragged a fourth hose into position, throwing the lever with a triumphant cry that Armas couldn't quite make out. The jet of water soared out to join the others and the fire finally started to retreat, beaten back by the sheer weight of the water thrown at it. The Garrloch lurched madly, sending them all stumbling, and they scrambled madly to get the fire back under control as it seemed to leap at its renew oppurtunity to wreak havoc. Finally, amidst Conway's shouted encouragement the last of the fire dissapeared under the downpour of the combined hoses, leaving only the thick smoke and the water pooling aorund their ankles. Armas grinned at Edward's woop of victory as they shut off the hoses. "Is anyone hurt? I'm one of the medical staff" the woman in front of him asked.

Armas had a quick look around and turned to answer her, but was interrupted by the PA system before he could reply. A 100-foot wave? His eyes widened as his brain filled in the scale of the incoming monster compared to the ship. The Garrloch began to tilt backwards as the climbed the massive wave, the water streaming past them to pool at the end of the passageway.

"Hit the deck and grab ahold o' somethin'!" The Captain roared, reacting quickly, almost tackling Holloway to the deck as he braced for the coming impact. Armas's partner latched onto him, "Looks like its a day for you to just save my hide, huh?". Armas grinned back at her as he prepared to follow the Captain's lead, looking around for a convenient place to brace. Almost in slow motion he saw Edward fall over as the water betrayed his footing, landing with a heavy thump as he was washed down the corridor. The woman was dashing towards him in an instant, yelling for him to follow as she ran towards the fallen journalist.

Armas cursed and started after her. The world was going crazy now, the angle of the deck increasing as the ship climbed, the engines bellowing as they tried to stop the ship from sliding backwards. The smoke was burning his eyes and mouth, but he could see the woman lunged forward and grab a hold of Edward, wrapping her legs around a support pole to stop her own slide down the passageway. Just as he was about to lose his own footing, he threw himself over to one side of the passage, landing heavily and grabbing onto a hatchway for support.

His mad dash after the woman had brough him almost level with the two and he reached out to grab a hold of Edward. "Bloody mad you are!" he called to the woman, "On two! One. - Two! " With a grunt of effort he heaved, his arms and legs burning, trying to swing the journalist over to the side of the passage so he could grab a hold of something. Between the two of them the load was more manageable, and he shifted his grip and planted his feet against a locker as he braced for the coming impact.

"Brace! Brace! and hold on cause we're gonna drop! He yelled over the din.

The hose squirmed and tossed in Krauss's grasp as he fought the seemingly living fire hose. He did his best to brace against the man's back as the man fought the fire, providing stability for the both of them. Life saving water furiously battled the raging flames just ahead of them. Krauss watched as others joined in to fight the flames. He allowed himself a small grin as he realized that they too were brave enough to face such challenges such as this.

The fire was fierce, but in the end, their persistence had begun to pay off. The flames slowly died, chocking on the seawater and foam that smothered the fire. Despite a sudden lurch, they maintained their attack on the fire, Captain Conway yelling that they were nearly out of the Ring of Thunder. Finally, as the flames gave their last hiss, they put out the fire. Standing up with a sigh, Krauss shook his head as the man in front of him gave a fist pump of joy. Krauss had seen plenty of hair raising, pissing in your pants, terrifying situations in his life. Funny enough, the scariest of them all was when the airship he was once aboard got caught up in a jet stream that pushed them nearly into the Ring of Thunder.

Krauss placed a friendly hand on the man's shoulder. "Trust me, you'll get used to this sort of stuff." Indeed, nothing short of an Eldritch god rising out the sea itself would terrify poor Krauss. He hit his adrenaline peak years ago. But just then, nature apparently saw that as a challenge.

A voice came on over the PA system. "Head's up, Cap'n. There's a hundred-footer between us and safety. The Garrloch can make it over, but we're going to be tossed around a fair bit. We'll be hitting in fifteen seconds, tops. Everyone brace for impact." Suddenly the ship began to lurch and Krauss immediately dropped to his feet and with surprising grace and control, swiftly slid over to the wall, grabbing hold of a pipeline. However, his instincts might have nearly costed a life, as he watched the man he had just help tumble backwards towards the end the hall.

Much to his relief, however, two others reacted quickly and grabbed him before he could fall into the man made pool below. Krauss was no stranger to a change in gravity, but this was ridiculous as he felt the ship nearly go vertical. "So this is what a hundred foot swell feels like? Gotta say, I would take some bad turbulence over this ride any day." he thought to himself as he struggled to maintain his grip on the wet pipes. The gaping whole to the sky left by the lightning strike revealed the turbulent ocean behind them.

Then suddenly sky.

Then water again.

Shit.

The ship had just crested the swell and was now barreling down the wave. The familiar feeling of having your stomach in your throat took Krauss all his willpower and strength to keep his breakfast. "Damn you... Damn you mother for making me such a wonderful goodbye breakfast..."

Constance could not say what tossed her around more: the violent sea or their boorish Captain, who seemed to be under the impression that her limbs were the strings of a marionette. Regardless, she was entirely sick of it all, from her safety being held almost entirely in the (more capable, although she’d never admit it), hands of the Captain, to the frivolous concerns that seemingly always found a way to worm themselves into her mind. As the sea bucked her against the wall she found herself thinking of yet another sleeveless dress that she’d be unable to wear due to a new foray of unsightly bruises, although despite her trivial thoughts (or perhaps entirely because of them) she still managed a soft shriek—and, as if on cue, the Captain was already picking her back up, standing her like a pin ready for the next strike.

Perhaps Rick Garrloch had heard that she’d be aboard this ship and had informed the Captain that it was absolutely necessary that she be treated like a complete dog. She scowled, as Conway barked more words right into her ears. And after I had spoken so kindly of Mr. Garrloch at my last soiree despite him refusing to attend. She had spoken kind words, honestly, but anybody in attendance could tell that she hadn’t meant a single one of them, something that she had privately told half a dozen of partygoers. But her private conversations were for her and the other party alone, so it hardly held any relevance. Honestly, the nerve of that man. See if I ever invite him to one of my parties ever again.

Rick Garrloch had also never intended anyone of her parties, despite numerous invitations. But, again, hardly relevant.

Despite yelping (mixed with copious amounts of coughing) out of shock every time that she felt Conway’s rough hands push or pull her, she couldn’t help but grip his shoulder and lean her forehead against the back of her hand in relief as the fire was extinguished. She tittered softly as she tried to catch her breath and still her thumping heart. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of lingering smoke, salt, and sweat, and still her eyes were watered, but none of that mattered. Whatever curses she had for Conway were gone the second crisis had seemingly been averted, replaced with just the happiness to be alive. She blinked away the temporary blindness and surveyed the hall as she took a step away from the Captain, her hand already acting on its own to fix her hair that she had certainly messed up.

“Good job, boys,” she said, finding her voice. “That was a real treat; let’s do it again sometime. Really, though, perhaps we should leave the fire in the kit—”

She was cut off by the announcement for the upcoming wave. If she had the time to think about it, and perhaps if she was recounting the story at a later date with a mai tai in hand and her feet firmly on land, she would be able to find a way to have a laugh at the idea that after needing so much water to put out a fire some divine body had decided to answer their prays, if a minute too late and in the most inappropriate way ever. However, she didn’t have that sort of time. Already her body was tensed for the inevitable act that was to come next; it was as if she was some kind of super magnet and their Captain was a lump of iron. Still, despite being prepared for it, she still let out a shout as he grabbed her and dove to the floor.

“Why must the somethin’ you grab ahold of always be me?” she demanded even as she hung onto his jacket for dear life as the floor became the walls and seawater rushed past her, soaking her to the bone. She hardly registered the struggles happening beyond her as she dug herself into the man, fully aware that the only thing that kept her from falling freely to some final fate being the arm wrapped around her back and whatever cloth she could cling onto. Earlier that day she had been so excited to experience the Drop; now, she wanted nothing more than this second drop to be done and gone as the Garrloch crested over the top of the wave and began its ride back down.

And, much like the wave, the words she had for Conway seemed to swell up and out of her mouth, her better judgment unable to hold them back, “Obelisk take you, what sort of hurry are we in that we must rush off in the middle of the damn storm of the century? Was there some second ship built in secret that we are trying to beat? Are we that concerned that the other obelisk is going to fly away? Because, assuming it’s still there after all of this and not smashed against the hangar wall, we do have a means of reaching it even if it does. I’m not saying that you made an error, Captain, I’d never even think that. I know this is your ship and I’m positive that you know best, but I am saying is that we do need their to be a ship for you to captain. Otherw—”

Although Constance continued talking, her words were replaced with bubbling as the saltwater rushed into her mouth as it surged past her and Conway as the ship righted itself. She felt herself pulled upwards by Conway’s arms, the bubbling replaced with sputtering and choking as she coughed salt out of her lungs. She continued coughing as she rested her soaked head against Conway’s jacket like a tuckered out child, squeezing onto him tighter still. Meekily, she looked around and realized that, from her initial impressions, the boat was still one and that she was still alive in it. She was too thankful to feel embarrassed for her behavior or her previous words as she continued to claw at Conway’s coat, even as he no longer held onto her.

“Lass, I need ya to leggo. You aren’t as light as ya think.”

"Aye, Captain," she said as she withdrew her hands quickly and slide out of the way so that Conway could actually stand up.

“And it’d be best if ya keep yer comments about how I handle my ship ta yerself, lest you want ta swim back.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, quieter this time, her eyes falling away as they sparked with guilt.

“We might make a sailor outta ya yet, lass,” said Conway, as he headed off to organize the others.

It was a horrific thought.

Lower Deck 1

It was rapidly becoming clearer and clearer to Edward that this trip did not follow the same general laws and logic he was used to back on the United Isles. He realized that following a tightly sequenced series of events which left him sprawled on the floor, gasping, as what felt like a ton of seawater came pouring back down on him. He spluttered with indignation, but a lip on one of the doors caught him as the ship tilted again at the crest of the wave.

This time he clung to the support like his life depended on it: which of course it did. He didn't want to fall down the hallway dry and comfortable, much less soaked and exhausted.

When the water rushed past him from his back on the way down, he wanted nothing more than to hit something hard in frustration. He'd known what he was getting himself into, of course, but even that hadn't been as harsh as what they'd already been through. "And this isn't even supposed to be the worst of it," he muttered.

Still, as they slid down the back end of the monster wave, Ed was endlessly relieved to realize that the world was finally coming back to its senses. The floor reappeared beneath his feet, and after a few long moments of frozen contemplation, Edward stood.

Captain Conway stood as well, with that Constance woman clutching at his coat like some kind of street hawker. He couldn't help but smirk good-naturedly at the woman's deflated ego. "Doesn't seem like there's any room for ego on this ship," he said, to no one in particular.

"Cap'n Conway," the PA system crackled again. "We're clear of the Ring of Thunder. Barrin' that hellish storm, it's actually quite a nice day out. Also, Supply Officer Gante wants to have a word with you at your earliest convenience."

Conway cursed as he switched directions. "We better not 'ave lost the food," he muttered, heading toward the rear of the ship. "Can't be eatin' steel, yeah?" Then he had unsealed one of the doors and left. Edward nearly followed him before he was struck with a sudden furious, raging delight.

They were outside the storms! This was historic! He lurched into action, pulling up next to the man and woman who had saved his life only moments ago. His entire right side stung, but the adrenaline and excitement dulled the pain considerably. "Come on, Luna! And...sorry, I don't know your name. Come on, Constance!" He waved to the bewildered-looking woman, then to the pilot. "You probably already have seen this, but come on anyway! We made it!"

After all those exclamations, he was off, bolting for the nearest ladder up. He'd risked everything for this, it was time to collect.


Main Deck, Fore
Ed climbed out of the ship's underbelly with barely contained glee, his feet clanging on the metal steps as he poked his head up and over the lip of the deck. He gasped as soon as he looked up. "No way..." he croaked in awe.


He whipped his head behind him: sure enough, a raging wall of thunderclouds greeted his eyes with rippling fury. The clouds remained still, however, and Edward could tell that they were moving away from them. "This is..."

It was the most beautiful thing he'd seen. Back on the Isles, the Ring of Thunder prevented early morning and late night light from reaching the landmasses directly: light always sort of bounced up and over the storms, which resulted in the most gorgeous rising and setting of the sun behind the clouds. Crops grew well despite this lack of sun, as there were less clouds above the islands, and more sunlight went through. Or something. He was a reporter, not a god damn scientist.

All that was forgotten now as he slowly sank to the ground. "This is what I've been missing," he mumbled, content to sit there for an eternity.

Lower deck 1---> medbay
Luna looked to the crew member, and grinned, a laugh playing around in her voice "Well, it certainly seems like I am, but what does that matter?' She ducked her head, preparing for the wave, "We must all nbe a little mad to be here" She drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes tightly, ducking her head closer against one arm. As the wave crashed over them, Luna held as tight as she could, knowing that if she let go, she'd be swept away, never to be seen from again.

The cold of the sea water would have been shocking, if she hadn't already been half soaked from helping to put the fire out. Even with her eyes closed, the salt stung her eyes, and a cut she hadn't known she had gotten stung badly. As she was pushed violently against the support, her breath escaped her in a woosh, creating bubbles as the water washed over them. Within seconds, her lungs burned for oxygen, and she had to fight the natural instinct to breath.

Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, the wave was gone, and they were cresting it. She drew in a deep, relieving breath. And another laugh escaped her, a joyful, breathless one. They were alive. They had survived one challenge. Catching her breath, she shook her head, her hair, already messy, stood up everywhere. She didn't try to flatten it, as she stood up, turning to the crew member that had saved her butt so many times today. At Edward's words, Luna realised she didn't know his name. "Thanks again. I'm Luna. Ah, I'm one of the medical staff" She smiled, "A pleasure to meet you. Ed, I'm going to go see if anyone needs medical attention, save me a plate okay?"

Turning back to the crew member, she said "It probably won't be the last time I use you as an anchor. Or anyone else, for that matter. So...I hope that doesn't bother you" She leaned up, and kissed him on the cheek, simply relieved to be alive, "gotta go, now! Whoa, how'd I manage to hold onto my supplies?" Amused, she darted off, taking out a sodden bandages. Well. She'd just have to make do. If anyone needed serious attention, she'd get them to the infirmary.

She checked everyone that she could over, and figured if they were walking, then they were fine for now. Once satisfied, she darted off down the halls of the ship, dripping water, seemingly not caring about that. She stumbled upon more then found the medical bay. She was sure she looked a fright, covered in sea water, hair all over the place, clothes dishelved, bruises probably starting to show, and that damn cut stinging. Yet she was still smiling, apartently thrilled with everything that had been going on.

She took in the sight, unsurprised to see it a mess. She was sure everything was thrown about in that wave. "hi" She said brightly, enthaustically, "Sorry it took me so long to get here, there was a fire, and then the wave...well, anyway, I'm here now! I'm one of the medical staff, a nurse" She said, happily introducing herself. Trotting over to what she took as her boss here, she offered a hand to help them up, "Wow, you really had a time down here, too huh? A broken bone already? Although that's not surprising. Everyone seems to be okay though, which is amazing considering everything!"

Krauss wasted no time once they broke through the Ring of Thunder. He quickly made his way towards the small hangar bay on the ship. As much as he wanted to see the clear skies beyond those growling clouds of thunder and air currents, he had a baby to check up on. Opening the door hatch, he found some the maintenance crew scattered about, picking up papers and tools that had been flung about during their journey. The Chief of the crew noticed Krauss's entry.

"Oh, sir! Glad you here. I-"

"Sorry, but please, is she okay?" Krauss said worriedly, cutting off the poor crewman's words. The crew chief huffed then gave a small laugh.

"Yes yes, she's fine. Got a little bit a dent here or there from our tools being knocked about, but she's most definitely still air worthy." the crew chief said. Krauss visibly relaxed and then began to inspect the aircraft itself. As he ran a hand along the engine pod of the plane, the crew chief continued. "As I was trying to say earlier. I assume you want to get her up in the air as soon as possible, on account that we finally made it through that blasted storm. While she's still got fuel in her from earlier, if your willing to wait, I'll have the boys fill 'er up for ya."

Krauss finished his quick inspection, then nodded to the crew chief. "That's a fine idea! Go ahead and get her refueled, I'll go clear it with the captain in the meantime." just as he finished the doors to the hangar began to open...

The sunlight temporarily blinded those inside, but as Krauss's eyes quickly adjusted, his mouth was agape. B

Before him stretched an endless blue sky, a sky that he had only seen in his dreams. A sky that every pilot in Avalia worth half his skill dreamed of seeing. It was the infinite sky, what lay beyond that ancient ring of storms...



Krauss quickly made his way onto the landing pad, breathing in the clean, salty air. In the distance, he could still see those angered cloads, but all around him, blue. Blue, blue blue! And the sun! My god the sun! Krauss had never seen such beauty in his life. He knew what he had to do. Krauss quickly made his way through the ship towards the rear where he remembered captain Conway heading. He quickly found the man in the store room, talking to the supply officer.

"Captain Conway, sir. I'm here to request permission to take our aircraft for a maintenance flight. I want to feel her out after we got tossed and turned around like that. Make sure our precious prototype hadn't taken any damage we can't already see. " He paused, thinking for a moment as an idea wormed its way into his head. "This would be a great time to get that reporter to take a bird's eye shot the ship, you know? Mark the occasion and all now that were finally, truly underway." he finished.

The ear-splitting wail of metal bending under extreme pressure filled the med bay as Sigrun careened towards the injector table, though the stormborn was more concerned about Bronson. While she planned to do everything in her power to survive this nightmare, Sigi felt a sense of responsibility for the heavyset sailor. After all, he was her patient. With a loud clattering sound, Bronson's cot toppled over, though the mariner somehow braced himself against the floor with his uninjured arm. Sigrun could see the sweat dripping down Bronson's round face as he gingerly rolled onto his back, and she wondered if the fadeleaf seeds were still keeping the pain of his broken arm at bay. Considering how pale he was, she doubted it. The fear and anxiety he was feeling would be more than enough to overpower the seeds' numbing properties.

Bronson seemed to sense Sigrun was worried about him, because he peered over the mound of his gut and gave her a weak thumbs up. Despite the man's size, he started to slowly slide in the direction of Sigi's other patient, a terrified moan escaping his lips. The bearded man, whose name nobody seemed to know, moved to help Bronson, but he tripped over the chair he'd set his rifle on and fell to the floor. "Plummet!" Bronson snarled as he bumped against his cot, though he managed to wedge his body against the obstruction in such a way that he stopped moving.

"Nicely done," Sigi said, a smile flickering across her angular features, as she reached out and took hold of the thin metal railing surrounding the injector table. The cold, unbending iron felt incredibly reassuring. Of course, that's when the jar of Dr. Morrison's Clotting Paste toppled over and spilled grayish pink sludge everywhere. The overpowering scent of oranges and lemons spread throughout the med bay like some kind of noxious gas. Cursing under her breath, the Ysmirod field medic watched in helpless anger as two dozen of her linen pouches toppled off the counter and hit the floor. While most of them were securely tied, no less than six of them came open and spilled their contents, adding various plant cuttings and seeds to the mess spreading across the floor. Sigrun's pile of supplies, including the partially full wash basin and the bottle of corn whiskey, hit the ground with a dull thud before following suit. As she watched in mute frustration, a small voice in the back of Sigrun's head told her she'd need to find another place to accept incoming patients. This room would need a thorough cleaning before anyone could be treated in here again.

Sigrun had always used little things to distract her from life's more daunting moments. Like cresting the top of a hundred foot wave. Or watching your father prepare to brand you as a vrykul for the rest of your life.

Abruptly, everything stopped skidding around and Bronson looked at Sigrun. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sigi held out her hand and said, "This has to be the top of the wave. We're not safe yet. Brace yourselves!" Shooting a caustic glare at the bearded man, who was using one of the med bay's chairs as an anchor, Sigrun wondered what would happen if they both survived this. The wave had hit before he'd been able to answer her questions, but he obviously knew how to use the rifle clutched in his trembling hands. Would he allow her to bring her concerns to Captain Conway? The thought sent a shiver of irritation rattling down Sigrun's spine, and she promised herself she'd deal with this filthy buca herself if it came to that. She was stormborn, and no stormborn would willingly ask a helgus for help.

On the other hand, none of that would matter if the UIS Garrloch was destroyed as it plunged down the other side of the wave. Sigrun's face turned the color of spoiled milk as she saw all the rubbish on the med bay floor starting to roll the other way, and she hopped onto the injector table as the entire ship began to tilt forward. The shriek of buckling metal cut through the air once again and Sigrun roared, "Kos an fenran, buca!" as the angle of their descent intensified. Bronson let out a wordless howl of terror and threw his unbroken arm across his face as though hiding from what was happening would keep him safe.

Stupid helgus.

A sound like a massive boulder tumbling into a lake reverberated through the Garrloch. Everything shuddered once, twice, three times. And then it was over. A quiet, almost surprised, voice crackled over the PA and said, "Cap'n Conway. We're clear of the Ring of Thunder. Barrin' that hellish storm, it's actually quite a nice day out. Also, Supply Officer Gante wants a word with you at your earliest convenience."

Bronson struggled to his feet, his injured arm held close to his body, and asked, "Do you think...do you think it's over, doctor?" Sigrun nodded once before vaulting off the injector table and hurrying over to the counter. Miraculously, the pouches containing the dalamud leaves and the fadeleaf seeds hadn't moved an inch. Grabbing both bags, and shoving the dalamud leaves into one of her pockets, Sigi opened the fadeleaf seed pouch and handed Bronson four seeds. That should be enough to numb him again while also calming his nerves. Letting out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, the stormborn turned one of the cots back over as her patient gulped down the foul-tasting seeds. Sigrun led Bronson over to the cot, and he squeezed her arm gratefully before settling down. In moments, he'd fallen asleep despite the revolting stench of spilled blood clotting paste, chemicals, and corn whiskey hanging in the air. Looking around at the devastated med bay, the Ysmirod ran a hand through her short hair and sighed. No time like the present. She turned to confront the bearded man only to be interrupted by the arrival of yet another stranger.

A young woman, perhaps only a few years older than Sigrun, with dark green eyes and black hair rushed into the med-bay. Her clothes were soaked, and she had a few minor injuries as well, but Sigrun remembered her. She'd been one of the people that gathered on the upper deck before the Garrloch left the Doherty Outreach Center. Moving past the injured warrior hunched over by the door, the intruder walked over to Sigi and said, "Hi. Sorry it took me so long to get here, there was a fire, and then the wave...well, anyway, I'm here now! I'm one of the medical staff, a nurse." The helgus woman held a hand out to Sigrun and said, "Wow, you really had a time down here too, huh? A broken bone already? Although that's not surprising. Everyone seems to be okay, though, which is amazing considering everything."

Sigrun looked at the offered hand and then slowly moved her gaze up to the woman's smiling face. Why was she so happy? Was it just relief that she hadn't died or was she some kind of moron? Did she not see the state of the med bay? "Your name is...Lulu or Luna or something, yes?" Sigrun asked as she got up without touching the helgus' hand. "Whatever, it doesn't matter now. If you really are a nurse then start cleaning this mess up. I'll be back to help you once I've talked to the captain about using another room down here as a temporary med bay." Without another word, she stalked towards the med bay's exit. As she drew level with the blonde-haired warrior, she paused briefly and said, "And get this buca something to make him sleep for awhile. I'll deal with him later."

Sigrun stepped into the twisting corridors of the ship, wishing she'd paid more attention when Valdez had led her to the med bay. The Garrloch wasn't huge, but everything was crammed into an extremely small space. This made finding a specific part of the vessel difficult for someone that wasn't familiar with the layout of the stark white corridors. Pursing her lips, the stormborn field medic noticed the cold, ankle-deep water sloshing around in the corridors and wondered how badly the ship had been damaged. Would the mission be put on hold until the engineers could ensure the Garrloch was fit to continue? What if they decided the best option was to try to return to the DOC for repairs? Would the ship survive another pass through the Ring? Frowning at the thought, Sigi set off in what she hoped was the direction of the main deck. Somebody up there would know where to find Captain Conway.

As she turned a corner, the Ysmirod nearly collided with Danzig and Rast. The two men looked down at her in obvious surprise for a moment before Danzig smiled, showing off an impressive array of yellow teeth, and said, "You never know what you'll find on these Canthican boats, am I right, Rast? Outta the way, little girl. We've got business to attend to." The red-haired thug shoved past Sigi and sloshed down the hallway. Rast, his beady brown eyes wide, rubbed a nasty bruise on his cheek and mumbled something that sounded like an apology before scurrying after his friend.

Sigrun briefly considered following the two men, but she knew her current errand was more important. Perhaps, once she'd gauged how many crewmen needed her attention, she'd tell Conway about the threat Danzig and Rast represented. But where was the blasted man? The stormborn squeezed past a portion of the wall that had caved in and kept walking, her damp boots making obnoxious squelching noises as she moved.

Sigi was so fixated on finding the captain that she almost missed him as she stomped past what appeared to be a large storage room. Conway was standing inside with two other men Sigrun didn't recognize. The taller of the duo was a gaunt, shifty-eyed mariner with a drooping red mustache and a wrinkled navy blue uniform. His companion had grayish blonde hair and a shaggy beard, though Sigrun wouldn't have cared if he'd been wearing high heels and a dress. "This would be a great time to get that reporter to take a bird's eye shot the ship, you know? Mark the occasion and all now that were finally, truly underway," the second man was saying as the Ysmirod field medic walked into the room and loudly cleared her throat. The skinny man with the long mustache blinked at her and folded his arms across his narrow chest, a disapproving look spreading across his swarthy face.

"Captain," Sigrun said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Conway. "I need to know what room I can use as a temporary med bay until we can clean up the actual one. It's a mess, and I cannot treat patients in such conditions."

It had taken just a few seconds—to breath, to think, to right herself—but already Constance had fallen back into her old, comfortable self, her head held high as if she hadn’t just finished burying it into the chest of the Captain like a scared child. One hand worked her wet, matted hair out of her face while another reached for the compact mirror in her pocket, ready to find and fix anything that had been damaged by the seawater. Yet there was nothing in her pockets to fix the fact that she was soaked to the bone by seawater, nor anything to remove the stench of smoke that had seemingly become one with her clothing. Even with her plastic, carefree attitude, she was prepared to retreat to her room, partially to change into dry clothes and partially to assure that her possessions were still in tact. However, she was stopped when an excited Ed called her to come join him, saying something about how they had made it. Her eyebrow lifted, perplexed. Made what?

“We made it?” she echoed like a parrot, her eyes growing wide as she recognized what he meant. Her hands clapped together over her mouth. “We made it!”

Any thoughts of changing into dry clothes or fixing her face was stripped from her mind as she stumbled after the reporter. Constance was a bit sadden that she wasn’t the first one to see what laid beyond the storms, but she took a small, bittersweet solace in knowing that she was certainly the first Holloway to make it there—there was no way that the Devil Divers ever survived anything like what she had just experienced. She clambered up the steps to the main deck, struggling to keep herself from breathing too heavily after having sucked so much smoke into her lungs. She choked back a cough as she emerged from innards of the ship, refusing to let anything hold her back.



For a moment she was nearly blinded by the brightness before everything began to adjust, her eyes shielded behind a raised hand. Slowly, her hand sunk to cover her agape mouth as she saw the strange, blue world before her. It’s absolutely fantastic, she thought. The sea stretched further than it had seemed to from the dock, and the sky was just as she, no, better than she had imagined it would be. Even the white, fluffy clouds seemed more wonderful than the ones that she could sometimes spot above the ring, and were a hundred times more beautiful than the gray mess that swirled behind (she took another look to verify that, yes, it was behind) her.

She brayed with laughter and rushed past Ed, nearly throwing herself off the ship as she perched against the railing. Behind her was the Ring of Thunder, the Isles, and all of the problems that were connected with them; ahead of her was an endless world full of indescribable possibility. There were no other cutthroat tycoons for her to tread the line with, no old money socialites gossiping behind her back, no private investigators sneaking onto her property, no scam artists claiming that she owed them money, no debt collectors that she actually owed money, no...she smiled. Those things didn’t matter anymore; if they were so desperate to hold onto their old world that they actively sought to ruin any interlopers with schemes and slander, fine, then they could have their world up there. She’d just take everything that was new. As a foul member of the nouveau riche, it’d only be fitting.

“Oh, Eddy!” A ‘gleeful squeal’ could be the only words that described the noise that came out of Constance as she flung from the railing and, basically, skipped across the deck towards Ed, twisting and turning to look out all around her, visceral squishing sounds coming from her still soaked boots. “Everything we’ve ever seen before has already been named, right? Somebody had to make them up, right? Well then, don’t we get to name this, right?” She may have phrased it as a question, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to wait for an answer. Constance knew that others had made it this far before and have probably begun naming even the clouds, but she also knew that it was the loudest people, and not the most deserving, that left behind a legacy. Or rather, perhaps she thought that the loudest were the most deserving.

“A name, a name, mm,” she hummed as she put a finger to her chin, as if to show that she was thinking, and then she snapped her fingers. “I know! The Samick Sea,” she said, her hand waving across the air as if to paint the name over the sky like a street sign, “named after its discoverer. Pretty good, right?” she asked, smiling and clearly too proud of herself for creating such a clever name, as if she did not realize that perhaps some people would not want their names to be immortalized or, at the very least, not by her. “Right? You can say that you thought it up when you write about it, even!”

That was assuming, of course, that he also reported all of the places and landmarks that would be named after of by Constance, which would obviously be the rest of them.

The Garrloch neared the top of the wave, engines howling in effort as they neared the top. The curly haired woman looked at him, grinning wildly as they began to level out. "Well, it certainly seems like I am, but what does that matter?' She ducked her head, preparing for the wave, "We must all be a little mad to be here". Armas couldn't help but agree with that statement as they finally crested the wave. For a single frozen moment they were at the top of the wave. Then they were barrelling down the other side and all hell really broke loose.

The angle of the passageway reversed in an instant and all the water collected down the aft-end came surging back with a vengence. There was nothing to do but to hold on for dear life, knuckles white with the strain of holding on. Gallons of freezing saltwater poured over him, instantly soaking him to the bone and making his already bruised body cry out in protest. He kept his head down, trying to press hi body into the floor as the water rushed over, catching at his clothes, trying to tear him away from the ship. It went on for what seemed like an age, the roar of the ocean in his ears.

Then all of a sudden it was over. The deck returned to a normal angle, the water draining away to pool sedately around them. Armas just lay there for a few seconds, breathing deeply. His ears were ringing and his heart felt like it was going to do a drumroll right out of chest. He picked himself up, a feral grin stretching across his features as the truth started to sink in - they'd broken through! The others were also picking themselves up, various expressions of shock and relief on their features. The PA sounded, confirming that they'd broken through and summoning the Captain away. "Bloody Drop's got nothing on that!" he said.

Edward came up to them, eyes alight as he spoke, and Armas returned his grin. His firefighting partner was laughing in relief, her hair standing on end from where she'd tried to shake herself dry. "Thanks again. I'm Luna. Ah, I'm one of the medical staff" She smiled, "A pleasure to meet you. Ed, I'm going to go see if anyone needs medical attention, save me a plate okay?". She turned back towards him "It probably won't be the last time I use you as an anchor. Or anyone else, for that matter. So...I hope that doesn't bother you". His grin grew even wider; he'd just been doing his job, but if a pretty lady wanted to give him a kiss he certainly wasn't going to argue about it. "Name's Armas!" he called as she darted off towards the medbay.

Armas followed the journalist and the industrialist up the ladder to the main deck. He'd always wondered what it would be like outside of the Ring, and he certainly wasn't going to pass up the chance to see now, after they'd gone through all of that. Besides, it would give him a chance to inspect the damage to the Garrloch from the outside.


He emerged onto the fordeck and stopped and stared in awe at the wide expanse of blue sky that was stretched out before them. Above and to the aft the Geralt storms thundered in their eternal fury, but the sea outside was calm in comparison as the ship steam away the United Isles. He spent a minute just staring out, letting his eyes adjust to the bright unfiltered sunlight that streamed through.

But there was still work to be done and he shook his head to clear it as he walked towards the jagged hole torn in the deck of the ship. The thick steel deckplating had been peeled backwards by the force of the strike, metal reach up into the sky. Armas gave a low whistle as he carefully circled the hole. There was definitely plenty of work to be done before the ship would be back in top condition again.

"Fetch us a canvas and rope!" He called out to a crewmen, who darted away to a storage locker, returning a minute later with a folded sheet and several rope bundles. "Come on," Armas said, "Let's get this bloody hole covered until a repair crew can fix the damn thing"

Truly Underway

Food Supply Stores
Conway turned to look at the pilot with consternation on his face. He seemed to have not heard the man's request, glaring back at Supply Officer Gante for another few seconds before he sighed. "Aye, that'd be a grand idea. Arright, Krauss, permission granted. Make sure ya fill out the necessary paperworks. I'll--"

He broke off as Sigrund the medic came barrelling in. "Oh, blast it all," he muttered to her demands. "Ya, ya, we got a spare medical room prepared, if ya can believe it. After tha last ship hit a hundred footer, we had that same issue. Same deck, same place, but on the port side. Ya got it?"

"Conway, sir," broke in Gante. "With all due respect, I'd like to get your approval for the ration plan. We lost one of the small refrigerators when that lightning hit. But with a little finagling, we'll be able to eat just fine. Gotta eat, don't we Cap'n?"

The captain returned his gaze to Gante. "Approval granted. Without full bellies we'll not be gettin' far, will we? I trust yer judgement, Gante. Remember: no preferential treatment to rankin' officials. Crew's got enough to worry about without playin' fav'rites."

"Aye, sir. Thank's for being patient." Gante sighed as he stepped out of the room. "At least someone is. God only knows if the rest of the crew'll stay as calm."

With the supply officer gone, Conway led Krauss out of the supply room by the arm. "Arright, lad. Hop on over to tha hangar. We'll get that reporter over t'ya as well." He frowned, as if in deep thought, before shrugging. "We'll send Holloway, too. Getter off tha ship fer a while so we can get some peace an' quiet."

Main Deck --> Aircraft Hangar
Edward glanced at Constance with a mix of laughter and confusion. "This is the Red Sector," he began. This was the stuff he'd done his research on. "Since we've been exploring radially outward from the DOC, the UINC divided the exploration directions up into eight sectors. They used to just be called, North, south, whatever, but then the ship captains started coming up with their own names. Now the west region is called Red Sector, because it's where the sun sets each evening. There's also Gazelle Sector, Echo Sector, and others besides." He couldn't think of the names off the top of his head.

"Basically," he continued, shaking his head with a bit of a dry grin, "we have a ways to go before we can start naming things. You'll get your chance, I'm sure. Just not yet."

Samick and Holloway to the aircraft hangar. Faster the better. You're going for a ride.

Edward jumped from the sudden PA announcement. It startled him out of his oceanic trance, and he lurched into motion with a gasp. The hangar was at the back of the ship, right next to the helipad. He realized about ten seconds later that he had left Constance in the dust, but he was already halfway there. No point in stopping now.

When he finally found his way into the hangar, he stopped to look at the giant machine with awe. It was magnificent, of course: this entire god damn trip was a collection of miracles. "Uh, hi." He said, getting the attention of someone who looked to be in charge. "I was told to come here for a ride? Are we going up in that bird?"

Main Deck - The Hole
A pair of sailors hauled up the rope and canvas to Armas. "Here's yer rope, kid," said Danzig, hefting the coils and knots onto the deck beside the hole. "Nasty business we're in, innit? Rast, hand the man his canvas. And here," The redheaded man pulled a bulky machine off his back. "The machine shop gave us this here chop-saw for the raggedy edges. Can't geddit covered when it's stickin' up like that, eh?"

The man laughed hoarsely and handed the saw to his companion, Rast, who fiddled with the machine until it came to life with a screech. Danzig put an arm around Armas's shoulders and led him away from the screaming sound of metal on metal.

"Now listen 'ere, buddy," said Danzig. "A coupla us sailors are thinkin' we don't much care for how Cap'n Conway has been running things so far. Could'a got us all killed, and whatnot. That just don't seem right, do it now? You see what I'm getting at here?" Behind them, the saw wailed louder as it bit into another little rivet of steel. Talk of mutiny always needed some kind of cover.

"Aye sir, I'm sure a few thousand feet will give you enough room to keep the place quiet." Krauss said, joking along. He made his way back across the ship, entering the hangar once again. The aircraft had already been pushed out onto the helipad and the crew were running around it, giving it one final look over and fueling the rest of the tanks up. The crew chief approached Krauss with a clipboard.

"Alright sir, we gave another look over. Her rudder was a bit stiff, so we drained a bit of the hydraulic fluid to make it a bit looser. We also added a bit more oil to engine one. Seems a small crack in the cables was causing a bit of a leak, so we patched that up. I guess over all, she's held up surprisingly well for being such a complicated aircraft." Krauss took the clipboard and began to examine the checklist itself. Nodding, he handed it back to the crew chief.

"Well, it's not like she was designed as a luxury craft. Since its an exploration vehicle, redundancy and durability were definitely top priorities in her design process. That's why we get so many secondary cables and control surfaces. Anyway, thanks for the check up, Chief. The captain's given us the a-okay for the flight, so you'll see her fly just yet." he said with a smile.

Krauss began his own quick pre-flight check, testing the controls and the flaps, turning the electronics off and on again to make sure everything was in working order.

"Uh, hi." Someone said, trying to get Krauss's attention. "I was told to come here for a ride? Are we going up in that bird?"

Well, it seemed that one of the guests of honor had arrived. Low and behold the reporter was revealed to be the man Krauss had helped put out the fire with on the ship. Smiling, Krauss hopped out the cockpit and walked over the reporter.

"Beauty, ain't she? State of the art aviation technology, the pinnacle of VTOL aircraft my country had been researching. And you, my good sir, get see the world from above in it!" Krauss gave a short laugh after is intentionally overly dramatic introduction. "The name's Krauss, Krauss Helfer. And I will be your pilot day. I've flown a thousand flights and a thousand crashes. A perfect record." he jokingly finished, holding out a hand.

Luna
Medical bay

Luna was taken aback at Sigrun's rudeness. She supposed she should be use to that from doctors, but it still infuriated her. The doctor seemed to look down on her, something Luna was all too familiar with, but finding it annoying to say the least. And sigrun seemed to hate her, which Luna couldn't figure out. Giving a soft sigh, she started to clean the medical bay up, saving what she could, and beginning to organise it once more, knowing there was a chance they would be moving it in anycase. She moved about efficently. A little annoyed, she considered not actually doing what the doctor told her. She wasn't a maid, after all. But it gave her a chance to check over the supplies, and make sure everything was okay. She did however ignore the order to give the crew member something to knock him out. Instead, she merely kept an eye on him. She wasn't about to medicate someone without knowing why.

She let her thoughts wander, wondering why the doctor seemed to think so little of her. Yes, Luna was happy. It wasn't merely simply surviving the storm. It was the fact that...she was here. Where she thought she had escaped people that would look down at her, for having been a street rat, for not having much money. Clearly, that wasn't the case. Constance seemed to think she was something she had found on the bottom of her shoe, and now the doctor seemed to find her inept. It was enough to frustrrate Luna. When would she have to stop proving herself, her worth? She didn't expect praise, but she would settle for a lack of disdain. She sent down what she was holding, letting out a slow breath.

She didn't need others approval. She didn't. All she needed was her fathers pride, and she knew she had that. I'll survive for him. I'll do everything I do, for him. And that's all that matters she thought to herself, as she continued to clean up the med bay. At least Ed, and Armas didn't seem to think less of her {i]no, but both are wondeirng if I'm mad[/i] she smiled to herself, relishing that thought. Perhaps she was. Perhaps they all were, to be here. She chuckled to herself, as she picked up some bandages, beginning to sort them out again.

What annoyed her even more was that Sigrun seemed to doubt she was a nurse. Well. Luna would just have to show them that they were wrong. She was the best damn Nurse she could be. She sent the bandages aside, and moved on. She checked the suipplies as she went through cleaning up, making sure they were okay. Finally, she turned to the blond haired warrier. There was something else going on here, but she wasn't too sure what. She studied them, before giving a shrug, unconcerned. She was sure if it were important, she would know.

She looked around, having done all she could, the place still was a mess. Sighing softly, she began to pack things away, ready for when they would have to move. So far, being in the med bay wasn't what she had thought it would be. And soon, she knew, people might be making their way here, injuried from the wave and the fire. She let out a breath, calming herself, knowing she would do what had to be done. She would treat what she could, stabilise everyone that came. Because that was what she could do.

Main Deck --> Aircraft Hangar

Her smile wavered but did not break as the reporter corrected her, and she was about to explain to him that even if it already did have a name a new one that evoked a sense of ownership was better than a bland, neutral one created by UINC when a voice cracked over the PA system. Once again she found herself jumping at the unseen voice, it reminding her so much of the emotionless, disembodied foremen that signalled the beginning and the end of their mandated lunch breaks back in her warehouse days. Edward was already beating feet towards the hangar by the time she parsed the message, the old feelings of dread invoked by memories of factories quickly smothered by the exciting realization that she’d be taking a flight in the VTOL earlier than she anticipated (and with a significantly less amount of pleading).

She chased after Edward, slightly annoyed that he had left her behind and with full intention of beating him aboard the plane regardless. Although she was no longer dripping wet thanks to the sun starting to dry her, she did find herself still somewhat exhausted from the earlier storm and dropped further and further behind in the race that only she knew she was in. She caught up to Edward by the time a scarred man called Krauss introduced himself as the pilot of the blue, bizarre aircraft behind him. His name was vaguely familiar, although she tended to pretend that all names were vaguely familiar to her, as if her social circles spread so far and wide that it encompassed the entirety of the Isles and that none of its citizens couldn’t be a friend of a friend. Her eyes narrowed onto his outstretched hand like a hawk as she slowed her pace into a cool, confident stroll. Despite knowing that the handshake was intended for Edward, she seized it greedily with both hands as she sided past the reporter.

“It’s truly wonderful to finally meet you, Krauss. That was you flying earlier today? It was an absolutely fantastic display, I must say. Truly marvelous,” she said, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Constance Holloway.” She paused, as if to let the gravity of her name sink in. “I have a handful of crashes under my belt as well,” she added with a smile, finally forfeiting his hand. It was unclear, but it almost seemed as if she was actually bragging about crashing instead of attempting to be playful.

She brushed past Krauss and began to make a loop around the plane, as if she was performing her own safety inspection. However, despite owning aviation companies and taking flight lessons, let alone being involved in manufacturing airplane parts in her youth, Constance knew very little about airplanes. The times she had flown were with a copilot, whose job was to get the bird off of the ground and to make sure that she was ejected with a parachute when she inevitably tried a maneuver that was not only beyond her skill level but absolutely impossible to pull off in the first place. Her companies had been run by actual people in the know, she had just thrown money at them. And tightening bolts as a hunk of metal came down a conveyor belt taught her nothing except for how she could hardly deal with tedium. Yet, she still made approving nods and noises as she circled the VTOL.

“Not bad, not bad. A few questionable aesthetic choices, if anything, but she seems solid enough,” she said as she made her way around, a hint of eagerness seeping into her voice as she poked her head inside of the interior. She looked back at the two with a grin and then hopped inside, determined to take the seat with the clearest view. The craft was small, maybe able to fit three or four with some shoulder rubbing. She took what she assumed to be the co-pilot seat, the meters and buttons of the control panel begging to be fiddled with, and plopped herself down in the chair. Excitement flooded through her body as she twisted around in the seat and climbed over the headrest, allowing for her to peek out through the doorway at Edward and Krauss.

“What’s the hold up, lads? If you two bum around any longer, I might just take this baby for a joyride,” she said, her head disappearing back into the plane.

Armas looked up as Danzig walked over to him with several bundles of rope. He’d been around the ship and the DOC to know most of the other sailors aboard the Garrloch by sight, if not by name, and Danzig and Rast were no exceptions. Their duties kept them apart for most of the time, but he’d run into them a couple of times in the mess and on various tasks and work parties around the ship. What he knew didn’t exactly inspire him to try and spend more time with them. Still, there was a lot of work to be done, and he wasn’t about to go turning down help.

"Here's yer rope, kid," Danzig said, dropping the bundles by Armas’s feet. "Nasty business we're in, innit? Rast, hand the man his canvas. And here - ”. Armas gave a bit of a grin as Rast handed him the canvas sheet ”Could’ve been worse” he said. Danzig swung the bulky circular saw around from behind his back "The machine shop gave us this here chop-saw for the raggedy edges. Can't geddit covered when it's stickin' up like that, eh?"

”Depends how you tie it” Armas gave a bit of a shrug, “Besides, wasn’t sure how long it would take to get someone out here.” The edges of the decking probably would’ve cut into the canvas, but it was tough material - and if you could tie it up off the points you’d be fine. Danzig was chuckling at his own remark as he slung the saw over to Rast, who gave the ripcord a couple of hard tugs and hefted the saw as it revved up with a screech.

Danzig came up to Armas and put his arm around him, leading him away the hole as Rast began attack the first of the metal fingers surrounding the hole. Danzig was only slightly taller than Armas himself, but was significantly bulkier, fat and muscle rounding out his frame. "Now listen 'ere, buddy," said Danzig. "A coupla us sailors are thinkin' we don't much care for how Cap'n Conway has been running things so far. Could'a got us all killed, and whatnot. That just don't seem right, do it now? You see what I'm getting at here?"

“Bit early for that kinda talk ain’t it?” Armas said, “The paint’s barely bloody dry on the bulkheads!” Behind them the screech of the saw changed pitch as the blade bit into one of the hardened steel rivets. Mutiny as a concept wasn’t unheard of in the UI, but as far as Armas knew it hadn’t happened yet in the UINC - though there had been a couple of ships to disappear without an explanation. The DOC was also literally the only known sea-level port in the world - at least until the other Outreach Centers were finished. Armas swung his arm so it rested on Danzig's other shoulder. "Look, we all knew the risks when we signed on - The Ring was always gonna kiss us" he said, "Cap might've been a little hasty, but we made it".

Armas started steering them around, back towards the hole. He was fairly sure that Danzig was just feeling him out - he had a reputation as a malcontent - still, he'd better watch himself. "I feel ya, but it's too early" He patted Danzig's shoulder and broke away from the larger man. "Still, it's a big ocean out here" Armas gave a bit of grin, "What's some chatter between mates?". Armas started back towards the hole, closing the conversation. Hopefully Danzig would take the hint and drop the matter, at least for now. He had no interest in a mutiny, but shipboard life was plenty interesting without any new enemies.

"Now lets give Rast a hand with that plummetin' saw - it's almost as big as he is!" He said, grinning. Danzig gave a surly nod "Jus' some chatter between friends, mark it stays tha'way". Armas pulled out some gloves from his pocket and pulled them on, reaching up to brace the tip of the metal shard Rast was cutting, carefully keeping all his body parts away from the blade. Rast gave him a grunt of thanks and kept cutting, the shriek of the saw making conversation impossible as they worked their way around the hole.

After telling her about the port side med bay, Captain Conway spent the next few minutes ignoring Sigrun before leaving the room with the blonde-haired man in tow. Even the sailor with the red mustache, Supply Officer Gante, walked out. The Ysmirod suddenly found herself standing alone in the food supply stores. Unbelievable. She hadn't gotten a chance to tell anyone about Danzig and Rast's potential mutiny. Well, if Captain fucking Conway couldn't listen to her for more than five seconds at a time then he could figure it out himself.

Suppressing an irritated sigh, Sigrun stomped out of the supply room and started squelching through the Garrloch's partially flooded corridors, her pale blue eyes scanning for anything that might help her get back to the starboard med bay. Hopefully, Lucille had cleaned the place up a little and found something to make the grizzled warrior sleep so Sigi could decide what to do with him. Moving the unconscious Bronson, not to mention the medical supplies, from one side of the ship to the other would be difficult enough without an armed stranger loitering around. As the stormborn medic trudged past yet another unassuming metal door, the sound of someone whimpering made her stop. Was there an injured crewman in there?

Blinking, Sigrun laid one hand on the wooden hilt of her dagger and pushed the door open with her shoulder, revealing a scene that would've given Supply Officer Gante a heart-attack. Especially since the ship was down one refrigerator thanks to the difficult journey through the Ring.

A pale, chubby boy in an ill-fitting DOC uniform was perched on a bed surrounded by empty aluminum wrappers. His dark green eyes were bloodshot and tears streamed down his pudgy cheeks. There was also a visible ring of chocolate around his mouth. Sigrun wordlessly reached down and picked up one of the yellow and red wrappers, a confused expression flitting across her angular features. The words "Dr. Morrison's Meal Bars: Make Hunger Back Off!" were printed on the wrappers in purple font, and the remnants of at least twelve meal bars were scattered around the room. Arching one blonde eyebrow at the wide-eyed boy, Sigrun closed the door behind her and folded her arms across her chest. This should be interesting.

"Oh...I mean, this isn't...uhhh...oh plummet," the lad moaned, dropping the half-eaten meal bar he'd been cramming into his mouth. Brushing his hands on the front of his uniform, he opened his mouth to speak, but Sigrun held up a pale hand to silence him. Maybe she could use this repulsive helgus child to get a message to the captain? If the boy had nothing better to do than stuff his face then he obviously had time to spare. Time was a luxury Sigrun didn't have right now.

"Tell me something, boy," the Ysmirod said, her voice calm and polite as she leaned against the closed door. "What would Supply Officer Gante say if he saw all these empty meal bar wrappers? We lost an entire fridge when we passed through the Ring, did you know that? I have a feeling the Supply Officer wouldn't be too pleased if he saw this."

Gulping nervously, the boy, who couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, said, "Well, miss, kn-knowing my father like I d-d-do, he'd probably say, "Keenan, you fucking a-ass! You ma-ma-make me sick!" Then he'd kill me then find s-s-s-some way to bring me back to life so he could k-k-kill me again. Then he'd go get Ca-Ca-Ca-Captain Conway." The lad looked like he was about to wet himself, though the acrid odor permeating the room indicated it wouldn't be the first time.

Sigrun tapped one finger against her chin and said, "I see. Well, allow me to offer an alternative. I want you to take a message to Captain Conway for me, and I promise I won't tell your father about this. Is that acceptable?" The boy, Keenan, nodded rapidly and the Ysmirod smirked. "Excellent. Tell the captain to keep an eye on two sailors, one named Danzig and another called Rast. I overheard them talking about mutinying before we left the DOC. He should take whatever precautions he deems necessary. Got it?"

"I got it, miss, and I'll go find the captain right now," Keenan said and he got up, scattering meal bar wrappers everywhere. He sloshed over to the door and Sigrun stepped aside so he could open it. The boy paused before going out into the hallway, a look of intense fear on his round face, and said, "Yo-yo-you promise you won't tell my dad, right? He'd be s-s-so angry with me. I was just so sca-sca-scared so I started eating and-"

"Give Captain Conway my message and your father will never know," Sigrun said and she practically shoved Keenan into the hallway. There. She'd done her part to ensure the UIS Garrloch's mission continued without any unnecessary interruptions. The stormborn waited a few seconds then left the room and continued her journey through the maze of featureless white corridors. Every now and again, she encountered sailors with looks of excitement and anticipation lighting up their weathered faces. Obviously, the crew was overjoyed to have survived the Ring of the Thunder, and Sigrun could certainly understand their elation. A small part of her was still amazed she'd emerged unscathed. Shaking her head and trying to recall if she'd taken a left at this particular junction or a right, the medic trotted down the left hallway and pushed open a heavy door.

Sigrun blinked. She'd ended up outside somehow and was now staring at a bright blue sky. A bright blue sky without the Ring of Thunder looming in the distance. For the second time that day, Sigrun's mouth fell open, and she slowly walked over to the ship's railing, her gaze never leaving the breath-taking view. A warm breeze tousled her hair as she peered over the side of the ship. Blinding rays of honey-colored sunlight reflected off the water's glassy surface. A pang of intense loneliness hit her out of nowhere, and Sigi gripped the railing tightly to keep from sobbing. If only Svanrige could see this. He'd been so happy for her when she'd shown him that clipping from the Highwall Herald, the clipping that had convinced her to leave the city and travel to Canth to join the Garrloch's crew. All to find a worthwhile avallach so she could return home to Ysmir. He'd held her tightly and told her she was always welcome in his clinic. What would he say if he saw this, a horizon of pure, unbroken blue? Something few people had ever seen. God and ground, she missed him.

Running a hand through her hair, the field medic took a calming breath and tried to distract herself by glancing around at the sailors celebrating their successful crossing. Knots of mariners were bunched together, laughing and gesturing wildly at the white clouds drifting across the sky. A few of them were looking back, shouting insults at the endless storms and one man even decided to moon the Ring of Thunder for some reason. A mirthless grin slid across Sigrun's lips, and she resumed her journey towards what she hoped was the starboard med bay. She'd never been good at making friends and past experiences had taught her it was better to keep people at arm's length. She trusted herself and Svanrige. It was safer that way. As if responding to her thoughts, an image whizzed through her head. A scrap of paper with the word 'vrykul' written on it in blood.

Sigi's smile faded and she stood up straight, adjusting her bloodstained clothes, before continuing her trek across the deck. While it might be nice to get to know the rest of the crew, there could be no trust until she found the person responsible for that note and dealt with them. Gritting her teeth and pushing past a sailor weeping with joy, Sigrun stopped when she spotted a door with a blue cross on it a few feet ahead. Was there another door to the med bay she didn't know about? This wasn't the port side of the ship. Opening the door slowly, Sigrun barely managed to hop over a pile of leechwood cuttings that had been leaning against the door.

She'd made it back to the starboard med bay.

"Louisa, why didn't you clean up the...?" Sigi started to say to the nurse, but she stopped in mid-sentence when she saw the injured warrior from before sitting in his chair. His rifle was propped against his leg. And he was very much awake. A look of barely restrained fury slid across Sigrun's angular features and she wheeled on Luna as she said, "Why the fuck is he still awake, helgus?!"

"Listen, miss, I..." the man said as he rose slowly from his chair, but the stormborn interrupted him.

"No, you listen, buca. Clearly, I can't trust my own nurse to follow simple instructions. I'll remember that. But I have no interest in hearing what you have to say," Sigrun snarled, and her hand once again darted to the handle of her knife while her eyes skittered across the floor. Where was it? Where was the pouch with the purple thread? Each of the Ysmirod's pouches had its own color thread keeping it closed, which made it easier for her to quickly identify what was what. Purple thread was powdered dreamweed. Sigi spotted it lying by the injector table and walked over to it, narrowly avoiding the pile of supplies her idiotic nurse had gathered together.

Picking up the pouch and hefting it in both hands, she said, "I want you out of my way, buca, but I still want to keep an eye on you." As she talked, she gradually loosened the thread and stared at the pouch, splitting her attention between the fighter and the powdered dreamweed. If she inhaled even a little bit of this it would knock her out for about three hours. Plus, there was the internal bleeding to consider. Shooting a quick glance at Bronson, who was still sleeping on the other side of the room, and deciding there was no way he'd be affected by this, Sigrun said, "I wonder how I could do-?" before lobbing the opened pouch of purplish green powder at the stranger's bearded face.

The pouch hit the man, sending acrid-smelling dust everywhere and Sigi covered her face with her sleeve. The fighter spluttered incoherently for a few moments before grabbing his rifle. He slowly brought it up, but a low moan slipped through his lips and he fell bonelessly to the ground, his face covered in colorful powder. No sedative worked faster than powdered dreamweed, though dalamud oil mixed with warm water lasted longer and didn't have any side-effects. Already, thin streams of blood were oozing out of the bearded man's nostrils.

Taking a breath, Sigrun turned back to Lupita or whatever her name was and said, her voice hard and uncompromising, "My name is Sigrun Alfhild of Ysmir, helgus. There are...certain individuals that would be very interested in killing me. I believe this man might be one of them. So the next time I tell you to do something I want you to do it or you'll be the next person I put down. Do you understand?"

The near gracefulness of the interception was the first thing that threw Krauss off when Constance Holloway shook his hand. Krauss gave a worried chuckle and rubbed he back of his head. He only began to understand the monumental task he had before him when she spoke.

“It’s truly wonderful to finally meet you, Krauss. That was you flying earlier today? It was an absolutely fantastic display, I must say. Truly marvelous,” she said, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Constance Holloway.” there was a noticeably awkward pause before she continued. "I have a handful of crashes under my belt as well,” Krauss returned the smile, however, anyone with an expert eye could tell it was a little less genuine than the one he had given Edward.

"Likewise Miss Holloway. Any pilot who claims to have never had a crash is either lying or pretending to be one. I appreciate the compliment on my flying earlier, I only wish the Captain shared such sentiment. Alas, the man is a practical one, and a little bit of showmanship isn't something that'd he appreciated." He watched as she began to pace around the plane, as if to give her own close inspection of the aircraft.

It was becoming more and more obvious to both Krauss and now the maintenance crew who looked on that this woman did not know what she was looking for, or for that matter, what she was even looking at. However, Krauss decided he'd just play along, possible set her up for a joke even. He gave a knowing wink to the reporter and turned the woman as she finished her round about the aircraft. "Durable, rugged, yet incredibly revolutionary this machine is. It was in R&D for about.... three years or so? Yes, I believe that was the cycle. Anyway, a lot of new ideas in aerospace engineering went into this prototype, so even I am still getting a feel for her."

“Not bad, not bad. A few questionable aesthetic choices, if anything, but she seems solid enough,” Holloway said, now taking a closer look of the inside of the aircraft. Krauss gave a light chuckle and shook his head.

"Well ma'am, I'll be sure to let the designers back home know that the bird needs to be a bit more pleasing to the eyes then." He then turned to Edward. "Alright, now before we go up, there are a few things I need to talk to you about. First and foremost, double check both your safety line and belts are properly secure. I'll be doing a few maneuvers to stress test this aircraft and, in a sense, 'stretch out its legs', so we'll be banking and turning quite a bit once we get going. I don't want you to go flying out the side of the plane and hitting that water at terminal velocity. Secondly, try to remain as calm as possible if anything goes wrong. Panicking during an emergency, just like anywhere else, could mean life or death. And finally, be sure to pay close attention to what I say. It may range from some interesting sights I may spot or crucial instructions to keep us from crashing. I'm counting on you, in particular, if these events should arise." he paused for a moment, motioning back to Constance who was far more interested in the cockpit than their conversation.

"You'll be up there with me, in the co-pilot seat. Good view and I trust you to be there a lot more than I trust her." His tone was briefly dead serious, but it lightened up when he finished. Just as he did, Constance called to them from the cockpit.

"What’s the hold up, lads? If you two bum around any longer, I might just take this baby for a joyride,” she said, head disappearing back into the plane. Krauss gave a sigh, then gave a small nod and a smile to Edward.

"Best not keep the lady waiting." He walked up to the door to the co-pilot seat and opened it. "Sorry miss, but Edward here is to be the one up front today. He's got to get his stories accurate and what not. However, may I offer you.... the 'hurricane seat'?" he said in a humorously formal tone, much like a butler. He elegantly motioned to the seat in the passenger section that was right next to the side doors. While this is where the gunner would sit, the machine guns had been removed for today's flight by the crew. This did, however, leave a great, unobstructed view outside the plane. "You'll have the best view in the house, and truly get that sense of light as the wind billows past you. Just make sure your all strapped in, as I wouldn't want to pull you out the sea with a fishing net." he finished with a laugh.