"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain pried at the hatch of the tank, turning anxiously every-so-often towards a swathe of slowly rising cold ones.
"I'll keep them distracted, Angel!" Cain said dutifully, extending the crimson deus blades from either wrist.
"Come then, embrace the song of oblivion!" Cain barked to the advancing terrors, spreading his wings like a steel bird ready for battle.
Angel pried at the hatch of the tank, finally ripping the hatch clean off te hinges of the device. She fling the heavy steel door into a group of cold ones, attaining a sickening "splat" sound as the hard steel disk reduced the cold one's heads to black paste. Angel pulled the tank's dazed pilot from the wreckage  before laying her onto the ground. Without saying a word, Angel dug her fingers into the armor of the tank. It was as if the metal were made of sheet paper. The tank was tossed with thwice the ease towards the advancing cold ones. The subsequent explosion sent hunks of cold ones soaring through the sky.

[Stella Gaslight]

Angel took dazed pilot in to her arms and smiled at her "It is all right now. I am going to take you to our house in the sky. You will like it there I promise." Angel giggled as Rosie wrapped herself around Angel's middle ready for the flight.  Cain snatched up Elisha and they were airborne before the cold ones even had a chance to respond.

[MWBailey]

"Thanks, Elisha!" He caught hold of Emma before she could get over the railing, and and managed to keep her upright, though she seemed a bit drunk, and nearly ready to pass out.

"Oh! Dreyfuss! How lovely! do you want to dance?" She giggled and then suddenly, as if a switch had been pulled to reverse teh polarity of the stimulant's circuitry, Emma began to get depressed about everything, and irritated with him for no really reasonable cause (other than holding on to her like, in her apparent opinion, a cad with no manners and less brains). "Putme down, you insufferable twit!" Dreyfuss turned his face away before she could see the hurt expression on his face. He hoped that he could hold her up while she fought for both of them, or with him, but she soon sagged more and more, until it was like hauling a weakly-struggling duffel bag.

"DAMN! Trip, Patrick, one of us has got to get her someplace below, where she won't do herself an injury -- I'll try to be back in a minute. George, how long do you figure she'll be out?

[E.A. Claringbold]

“uggghhh…..”

Her eyebrows lifted at the strange, but not unfamiliar sensation of pain. She did not want to open her eyes. If she could just sleep for a few minutes, she knew she would be fine, but by the tapping on the window and the knocking from outside, something told her that nothing was going to let her sleep.  Finally opening her mismatched dark amber and pale emerald eyes, she looked about herself.  She lifted her head from dashboard/keyboard. The monitor was flickering, papers have shifted in from the other side. There were large dents here and there. Well at least she wasn’t dead.

“Rosie?”

She closed her eyes again. If she was going to be canned food, she might as well  rest and wait up for them to give them a good thrashing before she was to not go gently into that good night. Irene had to open her eyes again once she felt cold and there was an explosion. Something was not right and immediately her hand went to her short sword. Blinking, looked around, sword pointed at nothing, but put it away once realizing that the woman had been flying with the tank and destroying the same enemies and she was in the air.   Flying by someone else holding her was something different and slightly shocking. Standing up shakily by herself once at their destination, refusing further help, she thanked the woman for her help.

 The tank. She turned to look down and all there was left of it was smoldering, ashes, fire, and glowing ember. Her stare at the destruction that was more or less brought on by her own rash actions, was blank for a moment as if not even processing the information. Eventually, a palm went to her forehead and both hands ran though her loose hair slightly distressed(her hairfork/tine had been dislodged from her bun in the crash).  Her lips parted, but were shut tight into a hard line. She could have fixed it- it wasn’t in that bad of a condition, was it, she thought to herself.

[Stella Gaslight]

"Well on a half dose she was out for an hour and woke up with a massive headache but I don't know exactly what a full dose is going to do.  That stuff is dammed dangerous I don't know why she risked it." Emma was curled up and sleeping now half a smile on her face.  Trip ran over and lifted her in his arms. Together they went down to the engine room.  Trip decided to protect two of the more important things in his world at once.

"Welcome to my house Tank Lady." Angel said and handed her a pile of papers.  "Rosie said that you needed these and that Emma could help you later." She said dutifully. 

[E.A. Claringbold]

“Bloody---“ Irene let out another mouthful of words that might have had a man frightened enough to hide behind his mother’s skirt.  Taking her hand away from her head, she found that it had a spot of fresh crimson. Small injury, she deemed it herself. Receiving the papers absentmindedly, she thanked the woman again. Snapping out of her thoughts, she nodded.

“I’m sorry- my name is Irene Frost. I really am thankful for  you saving me. “

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Elisha sat back on the deck after having been dropped off by Cain. The short ride had been rather fast and intense.

"Alright...Alright then." he said. "Ms. Frost seemed to have caused enough havoc with their airships...how many more have we got? And is that commodore still around?"

[Stella Gaslight]

"Hi  Irene lady. I am Angel and that is my Cain"  She pointed to where he was setting Elisha on the deck.  "We fight monsters. And when your tank crashed the monsters wanted to get you but we wouldn't let them"  Currently the monsters were milling around but weren't too large of a threat to the Boheme.  Angel handed Irene her handkerchief.  "That way you can clean up your leak."  She pointed to the cut on Irene's forehead.  


George popped out of the floor close to Elisha's side.  "Patrick is off interrogating that commodore and it looks like after Emma's stunt most of the other ships fell back. The ground forces are smaller and disorganized, we should be able to fend them off.  Some of the Aether League ships should be here within the hour.  Emma is sleeping off the stimulant and Trip is with her.  All in all I think we made it out alright so far."

[MWBailey]

"IRENE!!!" Dreyfuss screamed, at the sound of the explosion, nearly hurling himself from the deck to get to the tank and still try to rescue her, but then realizing the futility of it, if she had not escaped the wreck in time. He stood against the rail, morosely blaming himself and his "idiotic" example to a young person with more right to live than he had had in a long time, or ever would again. So many deaths, all on his head. Enemies? Those deaths, those killings, he could stand. He was even proud of most of them.  But Family, friends. People who trusted hi--

"Old one, Calm yourself! Cain, Angel, and Elisha Have rescued her! She is safe on board, and so is Rosie. I saw them fly up and enter the ship myself."
"She's alive?" He was like a man who had been told by his doctor that he would die soon, only to be told later that it was all a mistake, he wasn't really dying. "where?"
"the cabins, I would imagine"
"Someone needs to stay up here on guard." he saw that Abe still had the goose gun pistol. "I hate to ask, Abe --"
"Go on, Old One," Abe said, smirking slightly.
"You're sure you have enough ammo?"
"Dreyfuss. Go."
"Thanks!"
Dreyfuss fairly flew down the stairs.

When he got to the engine room, He asked, loudly (probably much more so than necessary), "Where is she? Is she wounded? How badly?and Rosie? where is Rosie?"
A hiissssssp! sounded and rosie slithered over and leaned against Dreyfuss' leg.
"hello, Rosie! HE leaned down and stroked her for the first time, on the back of her hood. "thanks for looking after Irene, Rosie. Abe is up on the top deck. i thnk he's been a bit worried about you."
Rosie "Hiiiisssss'd" in reply (thanks?) and slithered off and up to see Abe.
"Is Irene going to be alright...?"

[E.A. Claringbold]

She looked over to Cain and gave a small wave hello. Winged people who fight monsters. This was something she had not seen before in her short life abroad. Taking the handkerchief, she drabbed at her cut  and wiped the blood away.

“Well, I thank you for that- suppose I was no better than canned goods anyway without your help.”

It had not been long since her arrival and the sound of boots rushed towards their destination.

[MWBailey]

"Irene! Oh, thank God! I was afraid you hadn't gotten out, I nearly threw myself off the deck!" Without waiting for permission, Dreyfuss Hugged his ward. After a moment, she relaxed and allowed it. Probably rolling her eyes slightly at the reality of Male relatives and their regard for their female kin, he thought. Don't squeeze her too much, she's not a tube of ointment, you dolt.  HE laughed. "Well, if you're to be my Ward, I guess we're both going to have to get used to each scaring the other out of their gourds!" He saw Irene stiffen and sensed that just perhaps, he had been a bit too hasty...

[E.A. Claringbold]

“Oof,” was all she managed to get out as Dreyfuss hugged her tightly. She was certainly surprised. The hug, the concern. She thought it was a little odd that he would be so concerned for a stranger, but the moment he revealed to her his knowledge of who she was, her expression leaked through to the surface.

“I-…H--…”

The uncle must have sent a letter ahead anyway. Well she did say that she would present her letter once she  met him, but she did not think in the whole wide world that she would meet her gaurdian.  Then again, she did want to hold back the letter. Smiling, she looked to him.

“I suppose you know th-,” she stopped immediately once she saw the blood on him and began to let loose a  string of words foul enough to wither a healthy flower, but had to clamp down remembering who she was in front of.

“Are you alright? Those wounds- have you been treated,”
She tugged at his clothes to get a better look at the bloodstains and the wound.

[T.Taylor the Third]

Trip sat on the engine room floor with emmas head in his lap. he smiled down at her than returned ti his thoughts.
"hm I really enjoyed singing today....I think i should start singing outside of combat again...lets see what songs do i know.....
hmm. "if ever i would leave you" uh..."camalot"....that song sung by lancelot...whats it called?.....
"the music of the night"...."im dreaming of a white christmas"....."ich grola nicht"(i never complain)....."everyones a little bit racist"......hmmm..only one love song? maybe two? hmmmm ill have to think about it..." he thought as his eyes slowly drooped and shut,sending him into a world of music and color.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Elisha nodded. "You should go to Ella to get patched up, then get Jen to heal it all, if she's able at the moment."

He looked. A few Cold Ones scattered off into the snow. That fight had gone rather well, considering the circumstances. Irene had been a large contribution - the Boheme had trouble targeting that many airships. And Rowland had proved himself with his Aether in the engines. He did seem to be earning his keep.

Elisha left Irene and Dreyfuss together. He was intrigued by this commodore that Patrick had apparently captured. They'd never managed to do that before. This was an interesting situation.


-----------

Pzemysł had simply watched as the battle concluded. He could reform himself, strike again with his power. But he wasn't willing. He had almost been killed there - his life was not something he would put on the line for any leader. He laid among the wreckage as the Boheme drifted off.

Later, he found himself in a small town. While his strange appearance caused some confusion, he managed to get himself a room. Now to think. Tobias was presumably dead. The thing was...the Tsar would think that he perished too. Any Cold Ones that survived would clearly report him being blasted by that old maniac. He grinned. Perhaps there was a way out of this...

There was a knock at the door. He didn't move and was surprised when the door opened by itself.

"Br..Brian. What are you...doing here?"

"Following the Boheme. Rather interesting to watch. I'm ready for my final move. Of course, I always can know where you are. You didn't bother to even try that time. Quite sad."

"You're no commissar of the Tsar!" retorted Pzemysł.

Brian ignored him. "I do think that the Tsar is holding back on me. They don't want me to have a full Cold One biology. I think they're scared of what I could possibly do..." He looked at Pzemysł.

"Well, I said I would settle with you and I'm going to keep my promise. Pzemysł reached for his dagger and it was flung from his hands. Brian held him in place.

"Don't...kill me..." said Pzemysł, with a mix of determination and panic.

"No? Yes, you're right. Far too kind." Brian pressed his hand against the clown, his blood flowing into him. Pzemysł shrieked, feeling as if Brian was tearing out his chest. Suddenly, he realized what the bloodmage was doing.

"No!..." he started, but it was too late. Brian stood before him, letting a black vine creep into his arm. Brian had just removed the parts that made Pzemysł a commodore. He was mortal now.

"Ah. Interesting. How old are you? Nearing your sixities, I would guess. Ten years, fifteen or five, matters not. You are sick, old man."

"No...please...at least kill me! Give it back or kill me! Please. I don't want to be old, I want to live forever, please, please!"

Brian walked out. "And I am entirely certain based on your character that you don't have the guts for suicide. Just a matter of years. Take my gift, clown and die." Brian walked out into the hall, stepping out a window and dissapearing. Pzemysł could hear his mocking laughter as he left.

Pzemysł left the inn in silence. He walked out of town, into the hazey snow. He was nothing but an aging old man now. A sad clown who had wanted to live forever. He faded into the distance and was not seen in those parts again.

[MWBailey]

He heard Miss Armitage behind him say "Well, he says he's fine, Miss... Frost, is it? But you know how men are; he could be bleeding to death -- his pants, and his vest, and especially his boots, certainly look like it, don't they. Honestly, between the whitefire and the blood loss, I don't know how he keeps going."

"Miss Armitage is our resident doctor, Irene. And she's right, I suppose; I do have a tendency to avoid doctors, especially if there's a possibility of surgery. I don't mistrust her -- I just have met up with a few "sawbones" who try a little too hard to live up to the name."

"And yes, Irene, I did receive a letter from Our mutual uncle Caractacus. You shouldn't be surprised; even if he has fallen onhard times of late, he is still the head of the family." Dreyfuss paused, and breathed a bit before teh inevitable origin story...

"Please don't hold all of cousin Nyland's wrongs against all of us, Irene. I'm an orphan myself; I know how it is (my folks were killed at Parker's Fort, or so I'm told). I was adopted by Jack Litton, a blacksmith, but Uncle Caractacus searched and found me as soon as he heard that My Father, Francois (he was Canadian and a Natchez adventurer), had died, and he even tested me himself for the magic when I was eight, just as if my folks were still alive. He's used to being a force of nature, or very like one."

"I know that this Guardianship business feels like a thorn in the side, but it's really all about protecting the child from the forces in the world that might seek to harm him or her, before he or she is able to defend him or herself. Now, you are obviously already very much an independent woman. No piece of paper or verbal pronouncement that i make can change that, and I'm not stupid enough to try."

"YES miss Armitage" he chuckled, "I am stupid enough to keep holding forth instead of letting you examine me, but I do realize the severity of my situation, so please proceed, so long as you allow me to keep doing so." with that, he took out the letter from Uncle Caractacus, as the two young women began to remove his bloodstained torso coverings. They finally had to cut the shirt off, it was stuck so tightly; Dreyfuss mourned it's passing as if it were an old friend, and wondered where he would find another (he had only had one other shirt with him, and it was so damaged after that nightin the Hindu Kush that it had simply fallen to thready pieces).

At a certain point, Irene read the letter, then handed it to Captain Hudson, who had agreed to act as witness:

[Nigel Wetherby]

"Who are you?" Patrick demanded of the 12th commodore. His sword held frmly in his hand like the blade of an old general. The afformentioned captive was strapped to a chair. Runes had been written on slips of paper and pinned to a wall filling it with an un-natural head that made even the most fastidious commodore squirm.
"I know you're after Jen. Tell me why." His voice was grave.
"I know yer kind aint human, but ye can still feel pain, and if ye don't tell me...I'll have to get it out of ye." He reached for a pair of boltcutters.

[E.A. Claringbold]

A shot of concern passed her face when Miss Armitage told her that he had lost a bit of blood, but her worrying was settled once she reminded herself that he was still standing and not even close to dead. Still, a look of doubting worry remained in her eyes until Dreyfuss spoke about the family and his story and thoughts. From there she went through different expressions until she settled on a mask of indifference. Thinking back to her family, she slightly scowled, lips turned into a slight snarl. Despite all the good upbringing and love they had given her, the last years were pockmarked and rancid. Her father’s death, her sister flying off the handle which ended badly for the both of them, her, mother’s death and the discovery of the biggest lie in her whole life. Realizing that she was leaking distress and even anger, she replaced it with a sullen look which came at last to nothing which was laced with mixed feelings.

Without saying a word, she helped Miss Armitage clean up Dreyfuss, cutting the shirt, taking it off, cleaning the wound. She was digesting all that had been said and thought carefully about her next move.  Irene thought that she did not want anyone looking after her, even though they were going to be very loose with her. She went as far as to nonchalantly think that as soon as this battle was over, she was going to slip off at first chance, but a tugging feeling made her turn and look back. It had been a lonely several years starting from the day her face was horribly burnt. She had worn veils until the day she left home and she would receive no one. Even on her brief travels, she kept no companion and did not seek to make friends.  Perhaps she ought to stay a while.

Irene said nothing.

[Stella Gaslight]

The first thing Emma was aware of was that something soft and warm was wrapped around her and breathing gently.  The second thing she was aware of is her brain felt like it was trying to leak out her ears. It felt somehow extremely unfair that she would have all the symptoms of the wost hangover of her life without any of the fun blur that came before. Groaning she tried to burrow in to Trip's chest and go back to sleep.

[MWBailey]

"Forgive me, Miss Ella, but I need to get to my vest; there's a document that should at least be seen by my cousin and our witness," Ella handed him the letter, in its rather bloodstained envelope.

Dreyfuss opened it, grimacing slightly at the small shower of dried blood from the outside of the envelope. "Here, Cap'n, Sir,  If you wouldn't mind perusing this, for the sake of the niceties." he handed the letter to Captain Hudson, who read it for a while and then handed it back, saying "It looks to be all there." Dreyfuss nodded, and then read it aloud, mainly just for the sake of other presences:

Dear Nephew Jaisen,
I apologize for not having written to you or contacted you very much over the years, but you do tend to move around a great deal since that unfortunate incident with your Airship. I hope that this missal finds you in good health and well. This letter is not simply a conversational message, however.

I am sending this letter to you to warn of the (possibly) imminent arrival of a mutual relative; Your much-younger cousin, Irene Frost (She bore our surname and an adoptive first and second names, when she was being raised by my nephew, your cousin, Nyland Overcroft Dreyfuss). You may remember him as the young fellow who blasted the roof out of the barn when he visited with myself and my wife and children that summer so many years ago.

Nyland was my second-namesake, and if I have it rightly, a famous and eminent Inventor of military materiel for the so-called Aether League, which was but newly formed at the time of his wedding; but his estate was badly in arrears at his death, and his wife, Endora, Irene’s foster mother, killed herself because of “so many” misfortunes. Irene and her foster sister became estranged when both she and Irene had a falling-out; Irene was burned, horribly, when her sister threw an oil lamp at her during a fight over a suitor who was in actuality deceiving both of them. Even today she bears the terrible scars of that incident, on the left side of her face.

I am no longer a wealthy Magicus Practus, Jaisen. I have heard of what a splendid man you have become, even though you, in your own mind, might tend to disagree with that assessment. I could easily support Irene, but she has expressed a desire to not be a burden, and to “see the world,” so I decided that a long-term wardship with a more Itinerant relative might be to her advantage.

I therefore have no qualms about sending your cousin Irene to you, so that you may be the figure of a father that your departed cousin is no longer to be for her. I shall send a letter to you, in her care, to identify her and clarify her situation. You do have, I assure you, the legal right to declare her to be her own and a free woman, when she proves to you to be capable of fending for herself.

A note of warning or information: She has in her possession a Land Ironclad, or "Tank," which (despite your undoubted disbelief – I could scarce believe it myself!) is capable of relatively-fast flight; I do not know where she acquired this vehicle, and she averrs with a different story each time when asked about it; I suspect her foster-father (my nephew/your cousin Nyland) may have owned or invented it, as there were reputed to be many such things sold from his estate. It might also be a legacy from a member of her original family. I took the liberty of attempting to trace the name, by the way, but have so far discovered nothing of use.

May you Guide her Well.

Your Uncle and Your Servant,

Caractacus Overcroft Dreyfuss

22 March 1889

Dreyfuss grimaced and made self-deprecating noises when he came to the "splendid man" bit, and chortled out loud about the "more itinerant relative" passage. Then he handed the letter to Irene.

"Well, I can see that you have taken care of yourself, simply by noticing the fact that here you are over here in Russia, whether you came to find me or not; it takes a deal of maturity for any young person to achieve that, not to mention doing it whilst having to stop every so often for supplies and support oneself for at least two years, as you have done. "Uncle Cracky" has apparently been scrying a bit lately or he would not have been able to predict and then plan so completely for when our paths would cross."

"I suppose that the only thing remaining is for me to ask you, Irene, what your age is now, and if you do or do not want to be "set free," as it were?"

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Tobias was silent, weighing his options. On one hand, this was the enemy and he was stubborn. He didn't want to reveal anything. But he didn't feel much loyalty to the Tsar either. He was between these two sides, working for himself. But he didn't want to reveal his purpose and thus have it prevented. Better to wait.

At that moment Elisha walked in.

"Hmm. You actually did it Patrick! Have we gotten anything yet?"

[E.A. Claringbold]

She took the letter and scanned over it. Yes, it seemed to tell him everything. Even about the other letter. She slightly bit her lower lip there. She had not put that on her person. Instead she slipped it back into that leather pouch that was on the side of her seat, believing that there was time for that later, but now the tank was irrevocably gone. Seeing that this letter more or less told Dreyfuss the situation well enough, she decided that id questions came, she would clarify verbally.

Handing Dreyfuss back the letter, she began to answer his first two inquiries.

“I’m twenty years old now, Dreyfuss and as to being “set free” as you put it…”

She had to restrain herself from clasping her hands and wringing them, sure tell signs of consideration and worry. Instead she took one of his hands into her own.

“Even if-… I mean…oh, custard. I think I should like to stay under your wing for a while despite my age, if that is alright with you.”

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick shrugged weakly.
"Sadly, nothing. I want to give him a few options before i begin to remove digits...Er...At least I think that's what hurts cold ones. I aint all that sure how to make somethin like him feel pain, or even if he feels anything physically at all."
His questions on their emotional grasps was answered with the wrath of Cadens for the fall of his son.
"There has ta be a reason he's doin' this....But if he told us, maybe we could help."

[Arabella Granger]

Once again, Ella found herself pacing.

Back and forth across the floorboards she marched, absently playing with her hair. The incident with Jimmy still weighed heavily on her mind, and she was once again bombarded by the fact that in such circumstances, nothing was ever certain. We almost died, she thought. Both of us, Elisha and I. And we're nowhere near finished with what we've started. Father was right in that dream--hallucination--whatever it was. I'm just like Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole into who knows what. No one knows for sure what's going to happen to us, and that scares me...

It seems like I'm always abandoned, left alone. I don't want that to happen again.

She looked up at the sound of Elisha's voice a few rooms away and smiled. Maybe it'll be different this time.

Ella gave another little sigh and followed the sound of Elisha's voice, content to forget about her worries if only for a moment.

"So, what's going on? Anything of interest?"

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

"No...nothing interesting here." replied Elisha. Normally he would have set upon this commodore instantly. They had killed innocents, destroyed homes and lied to the masses. But he just wanted to leave this to Patrick.

He looked at Ella. He'd come so close to loosing her when Jimmy had ambushed them. He'd utterly failed. Taking care of yourself was a different thing than watching out for someone else. But that was his priority.

"Let's get out of here, Ella. Get some tea. I think we can leave interrogations to Patrick."

---------

Tobias watched. Help? Hmph. Unlikely. And even if they did - such an action would mean instant execution of his love, still in a small room in a far corner of the Winter Palace. But he was in no position to kill the witch. Damn it, he should be in control.

"Do you know..." he said "How to cure diseases of the blood? Give me a cure and let me leave and I will tell you anything you want."

Right now he needed to move fast. St. Petersburg was no longer safe.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss was both elated and disturbed at the same time. On one hand, he had a "new" relative, and he was, in at least some sense, a father of sorts. HE had come to the conclusion long ago that such was not his fate, that the Powers That Be had ecreed that he should not only be alone in life, but also childless, basically a failure in the sense of continuation of the family. He had resigned himself to that reality.

On the other hand, these were waters that he was unfamiliar with; uncharted territory. a fields littered with tiny little boobytraps, a forest of terrain where any seond a zeppelin could pop up--
Calm yourself, Dreyf, he scolded himself. you brought this on yourself; you could have played the coward and pretended the letter never arrived, and she swould have gone on her way, believing that she had gotten away scot free. Which she would have, you know.

Instead, you chose to honor your obligations, which the other member of the  Dreyfuss clan, Nyland, her foster-father, had not done. No, I could never be the one top do that to someone like her a second time. Well. Be glad that you have not been gifted with a weak, defenseless wreck of a person, but ave instead found a Ward who is every bit the warrior you are, and probably a bit more.

"Then, Irene," he said, "Be welcome under my wing, and know that I am honored to become and to be your guardian. I will protect you as best 5 may against all comers, even against suitors if you so wish' However," HE paused for a second, took a breath and went on," I will expect you to pull your weight. Yoiu are at least entirely the warrior that I am, if not a bit more so; I have many enemies, some of which are surrounding the ship at this very instant; and others in other lands and other ports. I won't bore you with stories of my past; you have probably heard all of them already anyway," he said wryly. I will ask you to answer this question, Irene Frost; Will you help me as I strive to help you, and lend your sword and guns and back when they are needed? See the world, you shall. Some of it is not very nice to look at, but there are many other parts that are full of marvels, and some," He looked around the room, but it was obvious he meant the entire ship and its occupants "are marvels and marvelous people who need our help and protection. Is it your wish to help me in such endeavors?