The Sea of Shadows

Weaver's report
Aftermath of the Battle of Redstone

Captain, First Mate, and other officers – I have been observing the current mood of the crew, the mood of Redstone and how affairs on the ship are going on at the moment. Here are my findings.

On Morale&Crew in general

Junior sailors’ morale is very bad. They are confused and frightened mortals who have had their first serious brush with the horrors of the Sea. I recommend taking some sort of action regarding this. While the veterans are holding steady, the majority of our workforce is made out of fresh recruits, and they do not know how to cope with the horrors of the Sea yet.

Lieutenant Black is in a stable, but critical condition. Besides the attackers she slew, no trace of the assassins remains. It would seem they are competent assassins, and I doubt they share the goals of the assassins hunting the officers of this ship. Which reminds me, I was attacked by a man who had painted their left hand red, but they failed to break my carapace. I gave him to the Sirens. I doubt he had any useful information, but if he did, I’m sure he plead for his life and tried to use whatever little he knew.

The Siren Eshina Rinde has lodged 37 different demands to find the perpetrators responsible for the attack on Lieutenant Black. This is somewhat unusual, as usually she mostly terrorizes junior members of the crew, cheats at poker and hatches plots to cause the demise of First Mate. She hides it, but it would appear that she has some fondness for the Lieutenant, if I do not misjudge the situation – which is possible, I do not fully understand Siren mentality. It could be that her scheme merely needs Lieutenant Black for some reason, but I doubt that. It would seem she has paused whatever scheme she has been plotting for now at least.

I believe Draexhal is nearing the completion of some sort of scheme however. She has been cackling to herself more often lately. I do not fully understand why she is back here – she is clearly untrustworthy, worked with enemies of Bastion and the Stolen Empire, and yet you asked her to return.

On Redstone

The governor seems to approve of us now at least, albeit Pinkerton’s relative and his cronies still treat us with suspicion. If our help here did not change their opinion of us, I doubt anything will. Regardless, the governor has ordered those loyal to her to aid us in repairing our ship, which I believe you will be glad to hear. It would seem the governor wants to reward us somehow, but I do not know how yet.

I do not trust this ‘lawman’ of theirs. I suspect the feeling is mutual. He reminds me of someone I once knew.

This might be a good chance to see if we could buy a shipment of redstone, I believe that material is worth quite much, and it could be used in various ways. I must admit I slightly want to create some apparel decorated or laced with Redstone.

Normally I would recommend that we would recruit new sailors to replace our lost ones, but I feel the locals would be a bad match for our crew. Besides, there is the hostility from Peter Pinkerton to consider, and many of the locals are either in his employ or related to him. I plead the rest of the officers to avoid taking more crewmembers who have potentially hostile agendas, we do not wish to see a second round of assassins.

On Ship Repairs

They are proceeding fast, and we should be able to set sail in a few days. The holes in the hull are being fixed, and the bridge repair is proceeding fast. I believe we have the captain to thank for that.

Nobody is repairing Yabal’Choath’s cell yet, it would appear the walls were constructed of a specific sort of metal meant to nullify magical assaults from the inside, and the people guarding Yabal’Chloath insist on this same material to be used on any repairs. As we do not have that material, I have told our sailors to ignore Yabal’Chloath’s cell for now, except of course for the mandatory training sessions. I would like to note that it is curious how silent Yabal’Chloath has been, no attempts to escape even with a literal giant hole in her cell. I know for a fact that I do not understand this being’s motives, so I’m just making a note of this without speculating anything regarding her motives. She seems inherently contradictory and infuriatingly enigmatic.

Other notes

I believe the Red Hand assassins hunting the Gunnery Officer and the Captain are still at large. You two should be careful.

The Major has expressed his official condolences regarding the assault on Lieutenant Black, and has offered his help to catch the perpetrators. I believe he is some sort of spymaster? Perhaps he can be of help.

The two ‘ancient evils’ have been remarkably quiet. The dogthing hasn’t said much, and seems to stick to their cabin lately. I suspect the reason lies in the two Masked Ones we have as passengers – there is something about the female one that makes my legs tremble. Just a feeling, but on these Seas sometimes instincts ought to be listened to.

The ghosts in our main cannon are angry about something. While you were away, the cannon only fired by itself, thankfully mostly in the right direction, but our sailors had a hard time controlling it anyway.

I hope this message is understandable by human minds, I am testing something.

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Heard in the messhall
What do sailors talk about

The messhall is filled to the brim, during these early days of the voyage while dangers are few in the waters tightly controlled by the Stolen Empire, there is a relaxed atmosphere. Sailors new and old talk of adventures past and those yet to come, out of sight and mind of the officers…

“Hey, aren’t you one of the vets?”
“Yea?”
“What’s up with those I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-Y attractive Natives with those beautiful voices? Higher ranks keep saying to leave them alone, but -”
“Oh yeah, those are Sirens. Don’t mess with them. And don’t call them Natives, just call them Sirens. Trust me, you don’t want to think of them as if they were just regular fishies.”
“What’s so special about them anyway?”
“Oh they use their songs to lure people underwater so they can kill and eat them. Bunch of them ate half our crew at one point.”
W-what?!.”
“Eh, none of the ones in the pack on the ship managed to nab any of us, so no hard feelings there. Friendly tip, don’t play cards against the one with the branding in her cheek, she’s really good at it, and she accepts fingers as additional payments. Once I was a moron and tried to win a kiss out of her, and put my finger on the line – well, now I’ve got nine fingers. Bloody Siren…”
“I-I see…”

The old school teacher listens on in utter fascination at everything that is being discussed. Back on land, old Victor Morris would have never met such strange people as those serving on the ship. Seeing different cultures interact with each other was so fascinating.

“So. Human. Why does your kind deny that one type of fishpeople does not exist?”
“Wåt? Wåt you speak of, fireman?”
“You know, those, what’s the word, those sharkthings.”
“I know not wåt you speak of – oh! That must be Stolen One thing. Jag not know why the angry hafbarnen are not real to them, if that is what you mean.”
“Human, I only understood half of what you said. I cannot understand you British”
“Wåt? Jag am a Son of the North, a warrior of Vegtam’s!”
“Oh, now I understand, you are of a different human land than these Stolen Isles, yes? Ah. By the fires of the Pit, you humans are confusing, you all seem so alike.”
“You are strange, fireman. Very strange.”

The wounds from the night at the rather strange human theater were still sore for Satanina as she was grabbing some light breakfast before returning to her post. Theaters brought out bad memories, and the events of the documentary’s opening night had not really improved her opinion on those places. She pointedly ignored the calls from some new Devil crewmembers to sit next to them – based on what they were talking about, she had little interest in their company. She bet to herself some of them still thought of Kazharnick as a heroic Devil even, as she hurried off, missing most of the bombastic tale..

“I can scarcely believe you have her imprisoned here! The Arch-Magister herself! The former Mistress of the Seventh Circle!”
“You Devils keep making her up as some big monster, but its not like she’s White Eye or anything.”
“Are you kidding me fish? Are you trying to pull my horn? You’ve got the last living member of the Council of Thirteen here, and you think its nothing special?!”
“She’s like the third ancient evil we have on this metalbeast, and she not the fearsome one – that’s the one that’s completely silent.”
“I see I must tell you the tale of how she became a member of the Council, of the monstrous actions she did to achieve that!”
“I do not even know what-”
SILENCE!
Ahem. Let me tell you the tale! There was once a Lord in Bastion, a Master of the Seventh Circle whose name in this human tongue is “Scarred One”, and under his reign the Seventh Circle of Bastion was filled with fiendish forms of entertainment! Theaters of Blood! Plays of mirth and misery! Carnal debauchery was his method of madness, and he wasn’t that bad for an Aristo, after all even us common Devils could take part in his merry madness!"

“I really don’t -”

SILENCE FOOL! Stop interrupting, please.
Anyway, all this came crashing down one day, as the Sorceress Yabal’Choath attacked completely out of the blue with unimaginable daemonic fury, using monstrous sorceries to blast through the defenses of the Circle, killing anyone who tried to stop her assault. Alone, that demon witch laid waste to all of Scarred One’s close servants, destroyed his theaters, broke to his grandiose Palace of Infernal Joys, and tossed him down, down to the lowest Circle of Bastion! There she flayed the poor bastard alive, before she dragged his wailing form through all the Circles of Bastion, before finally killing him in front of the rest of the Council of Thirteen! They gave her Scarred One’s old spot immediately, and she became the Mistress of the Seventh Circle, the dreaded Arch-Magister of the Infernal Court!”

“O-oh. What gave her such fury? Why did she defy a member of this ‘Council’, whatever it is -or was, that sounds like something your kind overthrew. Doing such violence sounds, uh, a bit personal.”
“What? That’s not really important fish, and besides, nobody knows. Maybe she didn’t like his face. Who understands Aristos, really? She’s the only one alive who knows why she did it, I’d guess. Come to think of it, she did completely erase every sign of the Scarred One from the Seventh Circle after she took over. I bet she did that just to be a monstrous bastard though.”

For now, all is well. While minor culture clashes happen, it is to be expected. Guinevere observes silently the gathered crowd, deep in thought. For now, all is well, true – but what happens when the Winter’s cold truly starts to affect the crew? The longer they stay in the North, the more likely it is that Winter seeps into the hearts of all…

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Adam Mosleyn kirje
AMOS

Hyvä HMS Lightbringerin päällystö

Tässä ei ole mitään henkilökohtaista, mutta en voi riskeerata että tärvelisitte projektini. Minulla ei ole muuta vaihtoehtoa kuin tämä. Hyvästi.

A. Mos

PS. Pahoittelen sitä että jouduin vaihtamaan lyijykynään, muste loppui. Kultistit ovat hyviä kätyreitä, mutta käytännön asiat niiltä ei aina luonnistu.

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Winter arrives
...and with it, death and misery

Bastion was the first to notice the arrival of winter, with the steady cooling of its upper areas into merely hot instead of infernal temperatures, and how the frozen pit at the bottom of it seemed to start creeping upwards towards the hotter regions of the infernal city. So far Devils had believed that nothing from the outside world could affect Bastion even if the Stolen Empire had faced several hardships thanks to the Sea’s occasionally malign influence, so the winter arrived as a very rude, and dangerous surprise. Most Devils feel it in their fiery cores, Fire flickers and fades. If Fire is not healed, the majority of Revolutionaries are in danger.

Slowly more and more ships returned to London, telling tales of frozen seas and of truly terrifying journeys in the dark. Many had problems with their engines not working properly as they seemed to not burn their fuel properly, and some of the ships had ended up saving the crews of ships whose engines had completely stopped working. As troubling as freezing ocean and constant engine troubles were, all crews also reported a massive increase in sightings of the dreadful Void Storms, and a couple of crews even reported seeing those most dreadful of sea monsters, those born of the Void.. As flames dwindle, and the Sea gets darker than usual, Void is ascendant.

News from the North imply that the Red Admiral seems to have gone even madder than before. He did not take the loss of his superweapon well, and while one would think that such a significant loss would slow down the Red Fleet, the North is positively infested by Red Fleet ships and troops. Nobody knows why or how, but Red Fleet is growing rapidly, even as it becomes more and more unhinged. Rumor is, their base is rather close to some mystical artifact, and this has caused some side-effects lately. Officially, this rumor is denied. Unofficially, the Naval Intelligence is extremely worried, especially after all the information provided by a certain high-level defector. Even as everything is slowly freezing over, the rage of the Red Fleet is only burning fiercer.

The dockyards of the Empire are working at a feverish pitch as the Princess-Admiral has given an order to supply all ships of the Royal Navy with icebreakers, and even private ventures are all modifying their ships to better survive in the colder climate. In addition to these preparations, the Princess-Admiral has announced a new bounty – 1 million shards to the ship that brings back proof of Red Admiral’s death. There are also plenty of smaller bounties announced, all designed to incentivize ships to sail to the dangerous North. The Stolen Empire is aware that something is deeply wrong with fire itself, and that the solution lies in the North.

After the defeat of Kazharnick, his ship sailed back to Bastion, but without the Mad Hunter himself on board it. It seems that after his loss to Jack, he ordered the ship to return to Bastion, and for his closest cronies to surrender – and jumped to the Sea afterwards. Nobody understands why he did what he did, but it resulted in his former followers mostly abandoning the hard line he used to advocate. Some of the most extreme ones stayed on their course of course, but the thorn in Old Goat’s side was gone. Everyone expects that Kazharnick survived that somehow, but none know where he is now.

Even as the Empire’s and its allies gaze turns towards North, strange rumors are coming out of the East as well. Of strange ships heading northwards, rumors of a gigantic metallic serpent, and sightings of the tower of Indhee glowing with strange lights more and more often. The next great frontier may be in the North, but old choices done in the East have consequences.

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London is Saved!
HMS Lightbringer has saved us all

Frontpage of London Times, Year 31ish? on the Sea. January 6th probably

THEY DID, INDEED, BRING THE LIGHT

Two days ago, on the northern shores of Scotland, some brave (and foolhardy) fishermen working during the darkest hours of the day were just minding their own business when they noticed a large stormfront in the north. They thought little of it at first, until they realized that the storm was rather bright, and that the flashes of light didn’t quite seem right. They realized they saw a battle of momentous proportions eventually, one that lasted for several hours until it ended with one, last massive boom, and for a moment the horizon was lit in such a way as to resemble something long forgotte, a dawn. (Editor’s Note: Dawn is that phenomenon where ‘sun’ rises and lights up the day. We felt that our younger readers need a reminder about what that term means)

the_dreadnaught.jpg

Now we know what that battle was about, as HMS Lightbringer and their rather sizable allies arrived in London, and regaled the tale of the Red Fleet’s mad plan. That madman, Red Admiral, had decided to launch an assault on London, while we were weak from our fleets responding to some sort of crisis to the East, and he had created a monstrous juggernaut of such size and power that it rivaled HMS Hotspur itself! This monster ship was heading towards our capital to drown it in fire and blood, and had it not been for the crew of HMS Hotspur and their near-mythical allies, they may have succeeded at it! But London stands, and that madman lurking in the North with his crazed fire-fanatics has failed his mad plot! While we cannot confirm this completely yet, we have received word that Princess-Admiral herself has promised to give out a rather sizable reward to these heroes.

reminder_of_the_sea.jpg

Captain Wellington, First Mate Jack O’ Scratch, Gunnery Officer Pinkerton, Ship Surgeon Koltsov, Spotter McCreed, and all the other members of HMS Lightbringer’s crew, London thanks you. We here at London Times are also proud to announce that we have the EXCLUSIVE STORY OF THE HEROIC JOURNEY OF HMS HOTSPUR, as one of our intrepid writers has travelled amongst these heroes for several months, documenting their incredible journey.

And that is not all! We have just received word from the Palace itself, that we are allowed to publish the uncensored story! You read it correctly! In the coming weeks we shall tell you the story of these heroes, and how they eventually saved us all from the traitors.

The Giants and Other Strange Things

HMS Lightbringer was also accompanied by a strange, massive but somewhat primitive ship, crewed by, yes, the rumors you have most likely heard were correct, mythical giants. No, we are not lying. Yes, giants. Most of them don’t seem to speak much in the way of English though, so we do not really know much about them. They seemed to be somewhat taken aback by London though, as is to be expected considering how their ship seems to be so primitive. Incredibly huge though.

god-serpent.jpg

There was also the strange severely wounded being on the deck of HMS Lightbringer, a creature just as massive as the giants, albeit far more monstrous looking, of which we do not currently have much information about. Our contacts in the Admiralty have stated that the creature has caused some severe headache for officials already, as it seems like some sort of dispute between Bastion and London is already brewing regarding it. There are even rumors that the creature is one of those Aristocratic Devils we have heard rumors about, but we cannot currently confirm this rumor. It seems likely though, considering how it seems to have quickly caused some issues between our Empire and the infernal folks at Bastion.

We also have pictures of a group of four strange looking monsters, that still exude this air of honorability somehow. We have asked Lord Maximillian Reese-Mogg the Third his opinion on them, and he agrees that there is something inherently noble regarding these strange beings. We would also like to inform you that Lord Maximillian Reese-Mogg the Third has extended an invitation to this group, whose leader we believe is called Mazhek the Blade, to visit him at his mansion on 76 Northstreet. So if you see a strange, dark blueish sorta insectlike four-armed humanoid leading a group of similarly strange beings walking around, tell him(?) about Lord Macimillian Reese-Mogg the Third’s invitation.

Is Something Wrong With Fire?

fire.jpg

We can’t believe we are writing this blurb. But have you had any recent troubles with starting fires? We here at the London Times offices have recently been having some issues with our fireplace, these last two days in fact, and we know we aren’t the only ones. The fire in our fireplace seems to have trouble burning wood for some reason, although it still heats and lights up the place. It just fails to burn properly. If you have had similar experiences, send us a letter detailing your experiences, details on the other side of this page. Our expert on all things fire, the devil Xerzenort, is completely baffled.

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A Simple Page
Torn straight from the diaries of the mad genius himself

TORN OFF PAGE FROM THE DIARY OF JAMES HAWKE

On one side there is half of a blueprint for some sort of machine. Perhaps a skilled engineer could make something out of it? It seems rather complex, and its purpose is hard to discern – it is, however, a creation of James Hawke, so deciphering it could be more than worth it, if there isn’t too much Void stuff involved in its use.

The following is written on the other:

It is difficult to track time here. I have been trying to keep track of repeating phenomena, but I am not certain how many times they have actually repeated, and how long has passed between them. However, it is certainly interesting to keep track of these events. I’ll write down the current numbers here, the tallymarks don’t work properly on this mountain that doesn’t exist (if it even is a mountain?)

Boats seen on the horizon – 8 times, although once it was the same boat in two opposite directions

A House on the Hill – 0 times

Gravity Anomalies – 5 times

‘Lord of the Void’ sightings – 3 times? It is difficult to deduce whether a particular Void event of massive proportions is the work of that entity, or just something of the Void in general.

Other Void Anomalies – 100+ times. These happen pretty much ”daily”, and I have only counted the significant events related to Void energy or entities

Other people on the mountain – only a lost chef. He has been climbing up for a while now, and this is not the first time I’ve seen him here. What is his link to this place, I wonder? I do not exists at the moment, so the reason for my presence here is obvious, but his is unclear. He seems real.

Mirages of my Dopplegangers – 12 times.

Temporal anomalies – too many to count

Sky and the Sea switching places – 1 time.

Void Entity Encounters – 16 times. They seem curious about my presence (or lack of) here.

Days my existence has waned even further – unknown, but I presume 100+ times.

Times someone has ripped off a page from my diary – 1 time.

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Meanwhile in the guest quarters
"So why does it sound like a giant is hitting this ship?"

In the guest quarters of HMS Lightbringer, there was a certain sense of nervousness in the air. Or, well, an edge. The strange old man, journalist and the rich frog were all spectating the battle going on outside, but the others were merely sitting there, waiting for the noise to stop. Or most of them were at least.

Wind, the strange apprentice of Baba Yaga, was chanting something to herself in a language that hurt the ears of anyone who was listening too intently. Perhaps this was protecting all of the passengers there. Perhaps it was just protecting herself. Every other passenger thought she was somewhat weird and off, so most had not made an attempt to get to know her. Well except for Mog’Mog, but Mog’Mog wanted to get to find out everything about everything even remotely interesting. The only passengers he’d left alone were Malgosia and his bodyguard – the frog was apparantely afraid of the grim fishtailed Native.

Speaking of the two Natives, Morgana was dressed in her full armour, and wielding her nasty looking trident. She was ‘standing’ in front of the door to the deck, being ready to repel anything that would come through. Considering the scale of the opposition, it was basically a symbolic gesture, but it did somewhat calm down the more panicked guests. Of course, she was still paying attention to whatever the other guests were doing. Morgana did not really trust any of them. Not even the Observers, although only the Devil was present at the moment – his human colleague was observing the battle, he was observing the passengers.

Shadow had been talking to Malgosia regarding the objectives of his pilgrimage, writing down interesting details for later analysis. Native cultures were varied and mostly a mystery to both the Devils of Bastion and the Stolen Empire. Apparantely Malgosia’s entire race had been preyed upon by the race of Morgana’s, until some large cultural shift appeared and it became taboo to prey on the weaker race. The pilgrim was unwilling to go in to too much details, so Shadow guessed that some greater force had forced the peace, perhaps an external threat. Perhaps he should ask Guinevere, Shadow pondered while glancing at Morgana. She was probably the same race as this Morgana, and if what he’d heard from sailors was true, both had been named after characters in an old human legend. Which was rather strange. He had gathered that there was still plenty of bad blood between the two races though, which was not surprising considering one had literally been hunting the other for food – which made the arrangement between the two all the more curious. Neither one was willing to talk about the reasons for the arrangement of course, that would have made it too easy.

Still, while the two Natives were interesting enigmas, Shadow had been paying attention on a few of the nobles and merchants amongst the passengers. How they all had wanted to go the easternmost colony of the Stolen Empire was strange, at least based on what his British colleague had told him. And strange in the somewhat suspicious way, what were the chances so many were wanting to go there at the same time? Some of them seemed genuine, but Shadow was not sure if all of them had legitimate reasons for going there. Of course there had been no clear signs of any plans for foul play, so Shadow could do little but wait. He had gathered that the Officers of the ship were somewhat suspicious as well, but randomly accussing passengers was not very good for business. There was also the skinstealing monster problem.

“While we are stuck here Horned One”, Malgosia started, bringing Shadow’s attention back to the piranhafaced Native, “I was wondering where is the master of this vessel? The… captain was it? Wellington was his name?”

“Oh, he’s probably screaming in his cabin again.”

Thankfully there was a loud, pained and horrifyingly angry scream from something monstrous outside, so the Devil got an excellent opportunity to leave to the deck to see what was going on himself. Usually a sound like that meant that things were either over, or just about to end. Nodding politely to the heavily armed Native bodyguard, Shadow left for the deck, believing the passengers could handle themselves for the final moments of this battle.

Malgosia looked thoughtful. He had been under the impression the crew of this mighty vessel knew what they were doing, he could sense how the God of the Hunt had blessed this ship. He had not even considered that they might not be prepared for the Siren’s Haven. Well, he’d just inform Morgana of his worries, and she would handle it. She could go talk to that shaman of her tribe that was apparantely serving on the ship, Malgosia was fairly sure this would end well.

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Meeting the Russian Witch
Just another adventure

First Mate’s Log, Fourth Entry
London

Now that we’re back in port, I’ve finally ran out of excuses to avoid this thing. So, where were we…

Once the Kraken let us from its realm, I advocated we get rid of the infernal beast we were burdened with immediately. Luckily the others saw reason and agreed.
The way to the Witch Isle was long, but with few events of note.
We picked up a castaway, a native from sunken HMS Royal Blade. We also had a tangle with some sea monster, but peculiarly I cannot remember the details. There was fighting, was there not? It had something to do with Pinkerton, our new gunner. I’ll have to check his log for the details…

Well, we arrived to the Witch Isle in high spirits. The locals were an interesting bunch of Mantis Folk, who had sworn off human flesh. (No mention of Devil flesh.) We also met with a group of British explorers, who had an unearthly fixation on their Moving Picture Device (it probably got their souls and the poor devils want them back).

Both groups, however, were in agreement that the Witch’s hut could be reached either by taking the long and safe route through the Cannibal Village or the short cut through Forest of Eternal Dooms (or something like it, once you’ve been in a couple of them, they all look and feel the same).
No surprise that the forest had been infected by the Void.
We arrived to a clearing with a void infected machine. The Captain had to sacrifice his colours and I was almost devoured by the unending void, but we wrecked the thing and forced the malign entity to withdraw.
We maybe even wounded it, but the thing is far from dead. It will keep causing trouble, until someone deals with it.

Now, at the hut we were greeted by the Witch’s apprentice Wind. She was pleasant enough host, though she acted as she had a dreadful secret to hide from us. Shame, we might have been able to help, but it’s not my place to pry.
She explained that the eldritch abomination McCreed calls a puppy is, in fact, a soul vessel that contains the souls of twelve native shamans.
Apparently the Red Admiral put them into a dog, so they’d be more easily controlled.
We agreed to aid in a ritual to free the spirits and McCreed courteously volunteered as a new host. The Ritual was successful and I wished we could now leave the dog, but McCreed cannot apparently see a job done and insisted we keep the thing.

As we prepared to head back, Wind asked if we’d take her too. The Admiral had apparently stolen something from the Witch and she wanted our help to retrieve it.
We agreed, as we will most likely run into the Red Fleet in the near future. Besides, I have my own business with them too.

Then it was time to set our sails towards London. (I know, I know, our ship has no sails. It’s a figure of speech!) On our way back we checked Lord Hawke’s Manor. Unfortunately somebody had been there first. We looted the bell.

And just when I decided that nothing was going to go wrong, we were ambushed by the Red Fleet.

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"BLOOD ON THE STREETS"
London Tribune, September 19th

CHAOS ON MAIN STREET

Today a bunch of TERRORISTS attacked our brave soldiers on some important errand, as a bizarre and terrifying battle took place on the streets. One of the armored steam-mobiles of our Royal Army was assailed by separatists who were probably also Irish, but the attack was fought off and defeated by our brave soldiers.

While most of the TERRORISTS were either arrested or killed by the brave soldiers defending the steam-mobile, it is believed that some are still at large! According to detective Hemet of Scotland Yard, they are following several leads and are sure these traitorous dogs will be brought to justice!

However! We have also received an eyewitness report according to which two DEVILS were battling atop the steam-mobile! One brandishing knives and another brandishing a sword, seems unlikely in this modern age, but we feel that we would be failing as journalists if we did not mention this eye witness account. One of the Devils apparantely jumped off the steam-mobile and escaped on a regular automobile, shouting insults and eternal revenge all the while. We are unsure as to why this Devil was swearing eternal revenge, but rest assured, if we find out, we will tell you, our dear readers! We are also unsure as to what this errand the brave soldiers were doing was all about, and the Ministry of Information informed us before this story hit the printing press that it was nothing important and we should not ask too many questions about it.

MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN

The streets are running red with blood again! Another mysterious murder by the enigmatic slasher in the night, the body of a prostitute was found near yet another monument celebrating the Empire’s glorious past in the Sunlit World. The police assure us that they are getting closer and closer to this villain, but in the meantime his bloody misdeeds continue.

We have also, once again, received a letter from this rogue:

“Three points. Their blood. U. U. My joy. The Black Colossus. WHORES. I paintdraw a SYMBOL with blood. Warn you. O is E. Power through Fire. Power through [word removed in accordance with the Law Regarding Things Man Is Not Meant To Know]. One is true, one is part true part lie. Four. And another number. It hurts. I hunger. S. O=E, bears repeating. Three points. He got the chest. THINGS WILL HAVE TO CHANGE. Fooooooouuuuurrrrrr. But from the end.

Blood is not the answer. E. IGNORE THE BLOOD. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

I hunger. MM. Remember me. Remember. Rememb. Member. Dismember. There is a message here. Please. I will KILL AGAIN."

And as always, it is completely incomprehensible. Hopefully this madman is captured soon, justice needs to prevail.

PRINCESS-ADMIRAL’S INSPIRING WORDS pages 3-5
BAFFLING MUSEUM HEIST page 6
VISITORS FROM BASTION page 7
NEWS FROM INLAND pages 8-12
NEWEST LIVING PICTURES pages 20

AND MANY MORE IMPORTANT AND DELIGHTFUL NEWS ON THE REST OF OUR PAGES.

THE NEWS ABOUT ALL THE BLOOD AND DEATH ARE NOT DELIGHTFUL, THE EDITOR WOULD LIKE TO REMIND EVERYONE. If you find blood and death delightful, seek immediate medical attention.

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Ignorance is Bliss
Knowledge is a Curse

Below the deck, in her little workshop near cargospace the Infernal Weaponsmith was completing the finishing touches to the Gatling gun. She was proud of her work, although she realized she hadn’t asked the Officers where she should install it, or whether to keep it somewhat mobile. That work wouldn’t take long, but still, it was an annoying delay – and the Captain had already been asking for the Gatling earlier. She missed something important due to her pondering. A blessing.

The Frog was rummaging through the Captain’s drawers, occasionally petting the Dog and ribbiting happily while doing it. He’d stolen the spare key to the Captain’s quarters during the old Captain’s time, before he’d shot himself, and had made it a habit to scrounge around in the cabin whenever the Officers were away. Oh, he’d put everything back where they used to be… well, mostly. He would sometimes steal the other sock from a pair, slice a hole in the Captain’s underwear, you know. Performing his duty as the Mascot. Due to this duty, he too missed something. The Dog did not care, and missed it as well. He did say “woof” though.

The Two Spies were walking around the Nameless Village, chatting with each other and taking notes on the strange place and its inhabitants. They almost missed a part of it, but they did see the vessel. A nervous glance was exchanged. They did not know why the vessel visited the village. It could have been nothing.

It was something, even if they did not know it.

The Voice of the Serpent was teaching a captive audience of a couple sailors about the Gods of the Sea and their habits. She was delighted by this chance to take advantage of her recent improvement in status, and paid no attention to anything going on outside her tank and the adjacent room. For once, she missed something that might have given her dread as so many other things had done. To be fair, it was not of the Void so she might not have cared or understood if she’d known anyway.

Some of the sailors might have noticed as well, but most did not understand or care. The Armoured Man certainly did not. The Northener could not care less. And the Unfortunate One just focused on her own misery. Perhaps if there had been more members of the Navy in the crew, someone might have cared or noticed, but it was not to be.
Besides, most were busy trying to figure out how to buy some REAL alcohol from the Masked Ones, with mixed success. Rumor was that Stephen and Robert had managed to buy quite a few bottles, but were refusing to tell anyone else where they had gotten them. Probably hoping to sell ’em later to other crew members.

The only Passenger, the Lost Painter, focused on his art for the most part. He had convinced one of the two Natives who were regular crew members, the one with the tentacles, to be his model. The Native was unsure of what to make of the request, so he’d agreed to it, somewhat bemused. Art consumed both totally for the time being, so they missed something important as well.

All this leaves only two with the means to both see, and to understand what happened while most of the Officers were away. The Chef, quite naturally what with his problems with the Eel was on the deck, with a perfect view. He would see, and perhaps understand as well. The Eel could see, but could not understand. That still left the last one to see, and understand the meaning of what he saw.

The Man with the Black Beard.

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