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Steam and Metal (Open non-Warcraft RP)
"Ten minutes 'til takeoff, ladies and gentlemen, United Zeppelins hopes you enjoy your flight."

The zeppelin's boarding ramp was nearly clear, many of the crowd had already gotten aboard long before to read or drink in the plush lounges. A single man in a bowler-hat ran through the rainy night under an umbrella comically suspended from an automaton who clunked along behind him, oblivious to most everything but the small teacup in his large metal claw.

"Hurry, Walter! We'll miss our flight!"

They vaulted stairs up the large art-deco tower's interior, trying desperately to gain time on their close-call zeppelin flight. They dashed across the large observation deck of the tower and nearly vaulted across the boarding ramp. The man rushed into the door, his automaton bending low to enter the man-sized entrance. He sighed and nodded to the automaton.

"Walter, I think we've made it."

The automaton didn't respond, he couldn't, he simply put the teacup to his smooth metal face and made as if to drink whatever was in the cup. Nothing, of course, but that didn't matter. They hadn't missed their flight.

(( A Steampunk RP! Let's go, guys! Introduce your character by describing their entrance onto the zeppelin and where they sit. We'll see how this goes, if it gets big I may consider moving it to an RP site such as Gaia or another forum rather than clutter our pages. Likely it won't happen, but whatever, let's get going folks. ))

(( A note on the world: The regions of Aldria are The Northern States, the Alliance of Island Nations, the Eastern Regions, and the many nation-states that reside within each. You can make them up if you feel like it, I probably will do a few later. ))
Two women boarded the airship. One of them was a stout and short elder woman with her hair pinned in an elaborate bun which was adorned by a ribbon-trimmed tophat. She looked like your typical matron in a dark gown with strict, high neckline and black-garbed, but her smile was warm and inviting. In her arms was nestled what appeared to be a clockwork cat.

Helping her was a much younger woman; her features were delicate, and her dark hair was taken up, save for a few tendrils that were curled and framed her face. The elder grasped onto her arm for balance as they walked to their seat. Her clothing was colorful but conservatively cut, similar to the elder woman's. The biggest exception was her willowy corseted waist; the old woman didn't seem to be wearing one.

"Here, hear, dearie," the elderly woman gestured with her shaking, spindly fingers. Once settled, the old woman, known as Madame Margret, drew open the curtains. "Look at the hustle and bustle..." she mused. Soon, everyone will be like tiny ants!"

"It's such a pleasure to travel again with you, Madame," the young woman said as she settled down across from her, and placed her flower-adorned miniature tophat on the table. "Especially on this fantastic craft. Oh, I'm so glad you've convinced me to come!"

"Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll let us see the engine room," said Madame. "Ooh, last time they wouldn't let me go near it! Said I was too frail for such devices! They didn't know whom they were speaking to!" The small old woman's voice bellowed, startling a few of the guests.

"M-madame, please," the woman leaned across the table to soothe the woman with a stroke to the arm. "They may think you're trying to disrupt the pilot this time..." she giggled.
˜★Sketch Blog
(( Must this be a two-person endeavor? Join up! ))

The man smoothed out his coattails and readjusted his bowler hat as he walked in, handing a soggy pink ticket to the ticket-taker. "Come on, Walter, come on. We'll just need to find our seats rather late. There shouldn't be any problems." The automaton nodded his oblong head and some steam hissed from his side as he walked out into the lounge after the man.

Nodding and smiling to those he saw, the man in the bowler hat negotiated his way into a bulkhead seat with a window, awfully close to the Engine Room's service entrance. Walter always did love to hear the sound of machinery. "So, Walter," He said as he pushed his monocle up over his eye, "Are you prepared for this lovely journey?"

The machine nodded his big head and gestured with the teacup, not really giving indication to anything in particular. His incandescent eyes were just a dull orange-ish glow.

"Well that's lovely, Walter," The bowler-hatted man cooed, "I remember last time you left your tea in the station... Terrible trip that was, but then I bought you a new one later." He looked out over the city and sighed, his unusually energetic expression becoming muted at the sight of so many factories and slums. "The city has really gone down-hill since we last were here, Walter, I'll be glad to see the Oberwald countryside under our feet again."

The automaton nodded and sipped his 'tea' as the man looked out over his city and reminisced.
"Ah...This fine vessel should get us to our destination, don't you say dear Silvester?"
"Indubitably, McClansey, reminds me of the younger years with my Man-servant. Oh those days were quite drole."
The two fancily dressed chaps took their seats only after adjusting their suits some just to show off the flashiness of their richness.
"I do say McClansey, that that is one outstandingly tailored suit if you ask me." Silvester nods to his companion with a sly smirk.
"Why of course it is, good pal! You had it commissioned for me!"
The daring duo burst out in an uproar of laughter which sounded oddly like two Santa Clauses 'Hoho-ing' at each other.
"Well, Silvester? Should we call for thee Champagne and Crumpets we were everso promised?"
Silvester smiles smugly to his finely fathomed friend.
"Oh pish posh, McClansey, you damn right know I brought my own liquor, we shanty not dabble in their own nonsense."
McClansey grins. "Aha! Never unprepared are you, good chum?"
McClansey nods. "Myes, never."
Silvester nods. "Myes."
[Image: badge.jpg]
Huh, I guess I am what my main is. o.O
(( I'm not even sure what the setting is to be honest. BUT, I shall give it a go! ))

A man stepped onto the zepplin, with unintentionally, yet disturbingly quiet footsteps. He wore an expensive tuxedo, buttoned to the neck and long red tie concealing it. He wore a hat as black as night, lowered to keep his eyes hidden from sight. However the one thing the hat could never keep the least to say, discrete, was the ending of a wound across his left eye, reaching down to his cheek and standing out like the moon on a clear winters night. His skin was milky white, but with a hint of a tan. If closely looked upon you could see a small buldge sticking out of his chest pocket, measuring 11 inches in length, but it was on the inside of his jacket. He was carrying a walking stick but it didn't even look like he needed one. Maybe it was for show. He casually walked over to an empty seat, his broad shoulders accidently knocking softly into an elderly women, he said not a word, as if nothing had happened.

As he sat down he lowered his hat just a bit lower, seemingly determined to make sure no one could see him, yet he could see all. He motioned for the waiter to get him a drink, as he gripped his walking stick, relaxing in silence. He was completely oblivious to the chatter of the excited people. It was going to be a long journey for 'the lone wolf'.

(( Alrighty... Uh... Hopefully it wasn't a bit... TOO much... And a note: The 11 inch bulge in the inside of his jacket is a dagger. There's also a katana in his walking stick. (He's paranoid, go figure) Also if he took off his hat you'd see the eye with the wound is colourless. Again, hope it isn't too out there. ))
"I am more afraid of one hundred sheep led by a lion than one hundred lions led by a sheep."
(( I'm going to assume for now that this is the starting cast. All further introductions will be made by characters already present in the current location, though you can definitely mention how they got there! ))

The zeppelin's great engines began to spin up in the dark, hot engine room. 'Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.' The pistons moved back and forth, the valves opened and shut, and the great behemoth danced in its restraints. At once, the zeppelin's moorings were cast away and the lumbering craft's propellers whirred loudly, carrying the zeppelin forward across the cityscape below and up above the tallest of towers.

Walter began to look at the zeppelin's crowded deck, his incandescent eyes revealing much that wasn't seen by the average man. Of course, he wasn't either now was he? Click, click, click, the gears in his head spun and whirred, tapping out his thoughts. 'There is some tea in the cup, tea, tea, tea, tea, tea in the cup.' He sipped from his teacup as he thought that. Yes, yes there was tea. Tea is good. Tea is...

His train of thought shifted for a moment. 'Checking... Checking... Parameters changed? Re-re-re...' His gears hit an automatic override, a timed occurrence. 'Re-winding clockworks... Tick. Tick. Primary functions: Body Motions... Wound. Thoughts... Wound. Vision...' His eyes 'blink' for a moment. 'Wound. Wea- Chunk! Obstructions... Cannot wind. Com- Chunk! Obstructions... Cannot wind. Targe- Chunk! Obstructions... Cannot wind.' His head twitched and he sipped his tea. 'Tea... Tea... Tea... Wound. Parameters: Tea. Tea initiated... Resume.'

The bowler-hatted man read a book and sipped a nice hot cup of coffee, oblivious to Walter's inner dilemmas. The zeppelin simply floated on.
Madame Margret was all about people watching. As the pale man strolled by her and the young woman's table, the elderly lady's monocle practically popped off into her tea. She held it for a closer look, catching a glimpse of a most peculiar protrusion running along the man's shirt.

"Dear cogs!" she squealed. "Petra! Don't look!" the old woman leaned over the table to cover the young woman's eyes.

The young woman was largely confused. "M-Madame, I don't underst--" Her gloved hands gently groped the elder's hand that blocked her eyes.

"That MAN was in dire need of a codpiece!" Madame crowed bluntly. Petra was largely flustered. The jolt from the lifting ship shook them about and made me quickly dismiss that most awkward moment.
˜★Sketch Blog
The bowler-hatted man looked up at Walter for a moment, noticing some of his strain. "Walter, why not go out and look at the passengers? A little friendly conversation would do you some good. I'll order you a fresh tea when you come back, maybe take you for a look about the engines."

Walter nodded his head, of course he wanted to look around! Why hadn't he thought of it before? There was a hiss of steam and a grinding of gears and he was up, lumbering out of the zeppelin seat and moving about the lounge on his thick metal legs. He looked around with his incandescent eyes and thought to himself about all the lovely people and... Tea. Yes, tea. Tea was good.
Underneath the brim of his hat, it may have seemed like he was simply staring at the floor, but his eyes were narrowed, darting to the direction of the squealing women, though he wasn't quite sure what all the fuss was about. He shrugged lightly, folding his arms across his chest and sinking a small amount into his seat. As he began to close his eyes a sudden breeze swept in, blowing his hat right off his head. He desperately reached over to take back what was his, but sadly he was too late. The hat was long gone. He noticed a couple next to him quietly shift away once they saw his damaged eye. He casually put a palm to his forhead, making it look like it was simply stressed out, but he was hiding his eye. Seemingly embarassed to even think of letting anyone catch a glimpse of his eye, and now his best attempt had failed.

"Damn wind... Why did I even come on this piece of junk, waste of my time..." the man quietly cursed under his breath. He let out an aggrivated sigh and reluctantly put his hand back down, folding his arms with a nervous look on his face as he -tried- to relax. The grip on his walking stick was strengthened as he looked around, now paranoid, under the impression that now everyone was judging and critising him.
"I am more afraid of one hundred sheep led by a lion than one hundred lions led by a sheep."
A nervous steward moved towards the man who no longer wore a hat. "Excuse me sir..." He held his hands steepled in front of him and moved his fingers nervously. "I'd like to ask you to uhh... Close the window before we get any higher." His eyes darted to the window and then to an altimeter and barometer mounted in the center of the bulkhead. "Please sir, before we need to pressurize the cabin."

Walter was near enough to hear, and why not do a favor for that mousy looking man? He reached his big metal hand over the men and shut the window with just the slightest hiss and click from within himself. He got back into a standing position and tilted his head to the side, putting the teacup to his smooth metal "face." The incandescent "eyes" watched the two men as the steward let out a frightened squeak and made his exit.
The head exposed man looked to Walter, and gave him a slight nod. "Thankyou... I could have uh... Done that myself, you know..." his voice was deep, but somewhat quiet. It was rather monotone, and unenthusiastic. Like a child thanking his parents for the present he secretly resented, but didn't want to offend them. He drew his walking stick an inch closer to himself. Then suddenly a small smile sparked across his face. He extended his hand towards the Walter.

"My name is Charles. A pleasure." he said, his voice now at normal level, his mucles less tense. The sharpeyed could notice this, and probably predict that he's more at ease.

(( Made the size of the blade smaller, only just realized how big 21 inches was! However I found the style of dagger on the net, so... Yeah. ))
"I am more afraid of one hundred sheep led by a lion than one hundred lions led by a sheep."
Walter took the man's hand and shook it vigorously with his large brass fingers. He nodded and pressed the teacup to his face again, simply standing. He hissed and clunked every once in a while, but otherwise didn't make any noticeable sound. 'Man.' He thought. 'Man... Tea?' He gazed at his tea with his conscious intent while his subsystems looked over the man in a different manner, measuring him by his posture and trying to decide how threatening he might be. 'Tea.' He concluded after a while.

The bowler-hatted man stood off to the side of the engine-room door, chatting with a steward. They spoke of opening the room as soon as the cabin was pressurized.

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