Prologue: Sky Iron
The manacles chafed, as they always did. I briefly cursed my thick orcish wrists, too bulky for the irons to be comfortable and not yet strong enough to just break them apart. The Inspector couldn't help but snicker lightly at my efforts, puffing on his pipe in that gods-damned infuriating manner. It wasn't as if they had actually needed the smug bastard to catch me, I just wandered into him on the street and he arrested me on the grounds of 'vagrancy' - by which he meant that I was an orc and in his way.
I feel I should point out at this juncture that I am not, in fact, a full-blooded orc. I am an half-orc, but the gods saw fit to give me the body of my mother's race instead of the more human proportions you might see in the streets of Tarant. So the fact that the Inspector had dragged me along aboard the IFS Zephyr on his way to Tarant (for him, the site of a conference; for me, the site of my imprisonment) made me an object of perverse novel to all the high society nobs that were busy sipping cocktails and gambling throughout its lush interiors. I might well have been the first 'orc' they'd seen up close in their entire lives.
The Inspector got tired of the endless drinking, smoking, eating and gambling (if the facilities had been available, I am certain 'whoring' would have been in there as well) and decided he needed some fresh air to pollute with his pipe. He dragged me up to the deck like an errant dog and started filling his pipe. Across at the other end of the deck a man stood taking photographs of the mountains. I batted my cheek to get rid of the insects buzzing there. Two facts struck me at that point. First, the dirigible was flying far too fast for any bugs to keep up; I could feel the wind rushing past as it was. Second, the buzzing was getting louder.
The Inspector was the first to spot them; a pair of great iron birds, cradling what looked like an ogre in each one's chest. I had enough experience in the factory to know technology when I saw it, and quickly realised that the buzzing (now quickly becoming a roaring) was from some kind of new engine in the craft. I hit the deck immediately, but the Inspector was too slow. Bullets ripped into his chest and streamed across the deck with him. I turned my head, thanking the gods I had escaped the first run of the flying machines and spotted the photographer. The man was still taking pictures, of the flying machines no less! He received his just rewards moments later when the second machine made its fly-by and mowed him down.
I crawled along the deck on my elbows and knees until I reached the Inspector and began hurriedly fishing the key to my manacles from his pocket. I tried to slot it into the lock when the whole airship lurched to one side. An enormous boom announced the crash of one of the machines straight into the engines, and I clutched my arms to my face as fire blazed all around me, the weight and shape of the key a constant reminder in my palm. The deck tilted and I struggled to keep from falling off. Just before everything really went to hell, I glanced up to the despairing sight of the flaming envelope. We were all going to die.
The manacles saved me. The ship broke apart not far above the ground. I regained enough sense and strength to try and grab onto one of the steel cords keeping the ship tethered to its failing envelope in the hope that it might lessen my fall. It didn't, really, but when I hit the ground the impact failed to actually kill me. I hit the earth with my chest first, and it was a miracle my ribs didn't break. As soon as I rolled over, a steel brace from the envelope fell towards me and I instinctively raised my arms. The brace caught dead between the reinforced manacles and hit the chain - without it, I have no doubt that it would have sliced apart or flat out crushed my face.
My manacles discarded, I clambered through the wreckage until the sound of faint cries caught my attention. In the hope of another survivor, I reached an old gnome trapped beneath some rubble. I grabbed the chunk of hull, still hot from the fires, and pushed it aside. My hopes dashed - a brace of steel had crushed his legs just as one had threatened to crush my head; he would not live much longer. The gnome seemed thankful enough, though.
"Oh thank you, my friend. I haven't got much time." The gnome started coughing, a rough and awkward sound. He stretched out his fist and opened it, revealing a silver monogrammed ring. "You must find the boy. Find the boy... and give him back his ring. He will know what needs to be done." Unable to resist the dying gnome's wishes, I took the ring from his fingers. He burst into another fit of coughing. I could hear the change in his breathing, the labour of it as blood began to fill up his lungs.
"You must listen to me-" He grabbed my collar with a strength I was surprised he had. "We had to do it. He did unspeakable things to us. We... we had no choice but to do what he said. There are... so few of us left but the work is almost finished and then..." A strange horror filled his eyes, a fear that unnerved me greatly. "The evil... you can't imagine. He's- he's coming back to destroy everything. Everything... and everyone. Please, just find the boy. Tell him that I escaped. I came back to warn..."
This wasn't the first time I had faced death, but the ramblings of the gnome gripped my heart like a vice. For a moment I thought he had finally passed, then he spoke up one last time, his eyes rolling back to face the sky.
"He will know what to do. You, my friend... it's all up to you."
I didn't believe in religion, even my curse to the gods was just a habit from my mother. Even so, as I closed his still eyes I whispered a prayer and allowed myself to breathe. The moment passed, and pragmatism returned. I was free, and I needed to stay free to survive. I rummaged through the dead gnome's pockets and found a passport and a set of matches, as well as a handful of cash in a wallet. Behind me, I could not help but hear the distinctive sound of footsteps crunching through the rubble. Another survivor? I couldn't risk my newfound freedom.
I clenched my fists and turned to face my foe.
Author
Topic: Let us Play... Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura! (Read 1312 times)