An IC Welcome to the world. (Open)

[Gable Rose]

“An eyesore.” It was the first thought that came to the mind of the woman as she stepped from her haphazard skiff and joined the population of Althanas proper for the first time. Gable Rose stepped on the docks with the eyes of the harbor-hands scanning her as if a mermaid just hopped out of the water and winked at them. With a glance at the worn dock, and a light tap of her knee high leather heels, the fiery red-head shook her head. A fish out of water was the perfect analogy for the young woman. Her emerald eyes opened slowly as she listened to the bustle of the immediate gears of commerce return to their duties. All around her the gaping men were back to carrying heavy crates, tying down thick ropes, and giving her sideways glances that were altogether unwanted. “And not just the city itself.”

Gable tightened the clasp over her right hand, readjusting the thunder glove and pulling the leather glove up with it. On the other arm she tightened the straps keeping the iron buckler in place. Fighting was not the first course of action that she intended to engage in upon finding land after a long sea-journey – but the face of the large man pacing towards her caused her to question whether it would indeed be or not. His shoulders were stout and held rigid, mimicking the puffed out chest and head held high. A thick hand was resting on an even thicker hilt of a long-sword. “Oy, wassa righ’ ‘urry, mate?”

Her question was not only ignored, but batted aside as if it was a cheap whore on a holy-day. Instead of an answer the massive man stopped mere inches away from Gable. His scruffy second chin dared to wobble dangerously close to the woman’s personal-bubble; the crossed arms resting on his barrel chest were level with her eyes. It was obvious he was attempting to gain forced respect, just another masculine ‘I’m-in-charge-around-here-you-look-up-to-me’ gesture. With a less then genuine, but all encompassing delightful, devious, and delicate smile Gable took a step back followed by a side step. The man did not so much as blink at the motion, even when she bent over in a less than ladylike motion and closely noted the craftsmanship – or lack thereof – that was vested in the creation of the sword at his hip.

When her thin fingers reached out to touch the worn sheath, which needed some tender-loving-care with a week’s worth of oil, the man snapped towards her and reached out with his opposite hand to collar her. In a fluid motion Gable ducked, side stepped, and danced gracefully out of his reach and onto a resting crate. “What is your purpose here?” The man asked as he re-crossed his arms and looked at her, this time having to look up just slightly to meet her bright green eyes. “You’re obviously not from around here, and this is the royal docks of the nation of Scara Brae. I’m the dock-master, Master Theodor, and by the rights of Queen Valeena I order you to answer.”

“Well Theo,” she responded with crossed arms, the buckler arm over the sword arm. “I go’ my soapbox ‘n you got yers, tho’ mines a bit high’r I’d s’pose. I’m Gable Rose, none-so-loy’l citiz’n of The Empire. M’ busin’ss is m’ own, tho’ I sure woul’ lik’ta leave m’ schoon’r ‘ere iffin ya don’ mind all too much?”

“Ms. Rose, it’ll cost you a good ten gold to dock for a month here. If you have the money, I can have a deck hand move the ship to the commoners dock with the rest of the personal crafts. This area is reserved for government ships only.”

Gable shrugged and dug out ten pieces of gold. The thick coins were minted with the face of the Emperor on them, completely foreign currency compared to what the dock-master was expecting. He caught the coins and turned them over and over. Feeling their weight he tossed five back. “Seems wherever you came from your money is worth quite a bit more. The weight of five of these is equal to ten of ours. The Empire you say?” Theodor bit into the gold piece and with a satisfied grunt pocketed them. “Well, on behalf of the nation of Scara Brae I welcome you. May the Thayne be with you. Keep out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” She thought with a sly grin and a half-assed curtsy. “Where I come from trouble is what you get into, just to have something to do…”

[Ruby]

Ruby sauntered down the boulevard that leads from Numarr to the Docklands and the briny metropolis of the merchant guild. Her boots tapped the cobbles with feminine precision and her hips swayed as only a woman’s should when swimming through the intensity of midsummer heat. She was a woman who carried herself as a weapon, because she had nothing else to bring to bear against the world.

She squinted up at the masts of the ships as they loomed and then covered the sun from her eyes with her black fan. It was a simple mother of pearl affair set in black velvet with a red trim, but it did its duty in social event and self-defence alike. “That is odd,” she commented, her eyes drawn down to a ship of a design she was not familiar with. It was a curious place the Docklands, but Scara Brae like any other coastal city did its maritime heritage proud. As the crimson mistress stepped onto the brown cobbles and leant against a stack of boxes containing rope, silk and cloth from Salvar she took it all in and admired the business and hubbub that swarmed everywhere she looked.

There were many places and things to occupy you with in the city. For some strange reason, this place was one of Ruby’s. She clocked the captain of the Flying Concordia strapping a rope to the mooring beside the bulk of the spooler and clocked the mooring where the Red Scourge had been many years ago, before Duffy and the elfin ranger saw an end to it. They were swiftly becoming oceanic myths and part of the legend of the lands, and Ruby was witnessing history in the making. Adjusting herself with typical gusto, she lifted the leather straps that criss-crossed over the front of her usual crimson attire and stood straight. Her back snapped into dignity and her fan covered the lower half of her face as if she were shy.

“This,” she said aloud, “is how we do it,” she waltzed over to the new ship she had not seen before, intent on making an entrance and getting to grips with the strange design and the curious red headed woman that had debarked. Perhaps, in her sun soaked confusion she had mistakenly taken this as a sign, or perhaps she simply wanted to make sure that she remained the head red head on all of the Island Nations. “Good afternoon m’lady!” She bellowed as coyly as she might, saddling up beside the adventurous looking woman with a friendly smile and not a hair out of place. The feathers in her hair rested neatly backwards, and her skin was blemish free. She was as good as a first point of contact came in Scara Brae.

[Gable Rose]

Salt stained senses, still recovering from over five months at sea on an antiquated transport vehicle, Gable could do little more than sigh and rub her eyes. It felt as if the salt had crusted in her tear ducks like crud just after one wakes up. The world around her, so different than the lands she had known her entire life, was a dream in itself. Buildings of uneven stone lined the docks, scattered and littered through the area in a haphazard fashion that expressed little more than a lack of concentration or consideration for the future. Other shacks, for they were little more than an odd assortment of different size and styled architectural mistakes, were created with what looked like a dark mud compound of some sort. No metal was used in this pre-industrial disaster of a nightmare, contradicting every sense of proper building codes Gable could possibly be bothered to remember. “They still use obsolete forms of transport, willingly. They still build with mud and sticks. I almost wish I had kept to The Empire if only to not have to deal with backwater towns and these weak people.”

If anything, her home would have been hailed as a place of wonder, power, and the future compared to the common Althanas notions of society. Hive like in nature, The Empire functioned as peak performance. Towering structures of steel and iron stretched towards the clouds, an open hand with fingers attempting to grasp the clouds as they passed. Bees floating from task to task, each person chose what they wanted to do with their life, but there were plenty of black sheep that folded into the mix. Unlike Gable’s home, Scara Brae and its technologically stagnant society appeared at the very least to have a firm grasp on keeping employment at a maximum importance. Not one person on the streets was out of place, lingering in the shadows or watching with unfavorable gazes.

Only one stood out. She was sashaying her graceful way towards the newcomer.

“M’ledy?” Gable responded with a smirk and a nod. Such cool, sophisticated greetings –in her opinion at least –were reserved for lower caste to greet nobility, or slaves to greet anyone. To be called a lady, and by such a precious flower, was something that made an awkward quiver run through the Empire’s newest adventurer. With feather and smooth crimson locks, a complexion that could humble even the haughtiest of nobility from her home-lands, and a stance that spoke volumes; Gable felt as if she was looking in a mirror. The reflection was close, almost too close. If she had believed in the gods, she would have believed in the possibility of a twin to every person born of a different mother somewhere else in the world. “’Ardly a good aft’rnoon. I ‘ad to pay ta leave m’ schoon’r with tha’ brute ova man, an’ pay ‘im f’r tha s’rvice!”

Gable let her gloved hands pass through her bundled hair, tugging at the braids scattered here and there through the crimson strands. Each one was of more importance than anything else the woman held on her. Each one showed the only connection between the lowest castes of society –not slaves of course because they did not even qualify for a caste –and the upper echelon of culture. A braid for every duel won, every opponent killed in combat. The Brae’s singular welcoming committee did not seem to notice the tug, the braids importance, or that Gable was alluding to her own importance.

“Tha name’es Gable Rose, Mz. Rose or jus’ Gable works fin’ tho’. Itsa pleas’r ta meet ya. ‘n ya go by?”

[Ruby]

"Ruby La Roux, Ruby's just fine," she smiled warmly at Gable, she started to like the woman very much. There was something kindly in the way she moved, talked and made a show of her self in such an understated way that rang true with the spell singer.

She looked over her shoulder and caught the sun, taking a deep breath of the sea breeze and peering through the crowd to see if the Ramshack Shanty was open fo business. It was a slovenly but humble cafe on the seafront which served the seamen and captains of the trade ships on their long voyages and the even longer dry docking periods between hauls.

"If you're not doing anything tragically important, and you're open to me re-embersing you for the good stowman's thievery in the form of a drink, some food, and a little direction about what's what, who's who, and most importantly, where not to go in this fine city of ours, you're more than welcome to join me yonder," she prodded a ringed finger towards the row of tables under a red and white striped awning.

Coyly, she stepped to one side as if to allow Gable passage onto the bedrock of Scara Brae and held out a hand towards the cafe. "Unless you had something else in mind? I'd love to here more about this fantastic ship of yours, it's truly wondrous -" she smirked, naturally, she had every intention of finding out everything she could about it.

It was just the right size for the Ganymede the troupe had planned to build themselves from wrought iron and blood and sweat. "I am your graceful attendant and willing to do your bidding in making you welcome - us girls," she winked, "have to stay together!"

[Gable Rose]

Unsure as to whether all newcomers to the land of Scara Brae were welcomed as openly, Gable simply nodded to her counterpart. She had a thousand questions screaming for attention in here mind, a thousand more developing based on the answers granted. It was impossible not to wonder what lay within the new world she had discovered. Even the mere chance that the land she found was filled with people that spoke a common language was not lost on her, but all things would come in time. As a scientist, inventor, and general philosophical thinker Gable understood that patience and a rational mindset would bring with it all the answers to all questions she had in time.

The glare of the sun made the woman before her seem to be nothing more than a human figure born of fire. Her hair nearly glowed with the gentle rays of the sun, and the tint darkened and shifted like the tongues of a warm fire. There was something almost otherworldly about her, something altogether different, and the curiosity of the Imperial exile was piqued. Not often did Gable find another that caught her interest, rarer still that made her want to keep their company longer than what was absolutely necessary. She did not know what to make of the situation, but twenty years of curiosity bore with it many fights and friendships brought about by circumstance. If nothing more, her interest would bear fruit in the form of understanding her new surroundings.

"A drink 'n c'mp'ny wou'd indee' be welc'm, havn't 'ad noth'n bu' stale wat'r fer days." Gable tugged at her small buckler and readjusted the glove beneath. It was not so much a sign of preparation for danger as a subconscious tick that had, in the past, kept her alive in more thorny situations. Traveling across an ocean towards an unforeseen destination, without knowledge of whether another living thing existed, took a lot out of a woman. It had been days since she had first spotted the island nation, longer still to find a proper port to dock. If she was a little wary of her surroundings it would come as no surprise, but she would certainly not express such concerns in a conscious manner. Normally one would expect someone to be in complete awe of an entire civilization existing where unexpected, but Gable just took it in stride.

She walked along side the woman in quiet, watching the way Ruby glided across the street and through the crowd. The people around the two barely took notice, except for what Gable assumed as open gawking and muted cat-calling. The eyes of lusty men fell on the two red-headed women as vigorously as starving wolves to a potential meal. Gable ignored the stares, instead focusing on the cafe and it's quaint yet suitable seating. It was moments before the two took empty seats under a striped awning, gave a young lass their orders, and awaited their drinks to be served. "Tell me," Gable said as the waitress departed, "am I ta believ' tha' this 'ere city is... s'me par' o' 'n islan' nati'n? Or, issit i's own g'vernin' body? Tell me abou' this 'ere lan', iffin yer willin'."

If the woman had motives behind her sudden extension of friendship, Gable would find them out first. She expressed interest in the newcomers ship, and offered herself as a guide of sorts, but nothing came without a price. In the Empire it was a slight to offer one hand and hold a dagger in the other, and all things were gained through the payment of gold or blood. Gable was familiar with that fact. It would not be so simple to believe that the first firey-haired woman to appear in sight would want nothing in return for her assistance. Ruby wanted to assist, and Ms. Rose needed the assistance, but for the time being Gable would try and avoid paying gold or having to duel if possible. The young woman sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and picking at the ends of her coal-tinted and tattered skirt.

[Ruby]

Ruby smiled with warmth, gumption, and an eagerness that came with age and happiness. She did not need to be asked twice to turn on her heel and gesture forth back towards the maze like expanse of Scara Brae. It was not, she had to admit, the most beautiful or prosperous city on Althanas, but it had about it a certain charm few could deny.

“This is Scara Brae, the capital city of the nation, which is an island, as you correctly mentioned, known to us as...Scara Brae” She hesitated for a moment, before she curled her lips into a warped smile and tried, bitterly, to not roll into a cavalcade of insults about her home away from home. It was one of those cities that everybody loved to hate, no matter how much they actually liked living there.

“Is I’ a good place to an’hor?” Gable asked, pressing the red head for more information before she gave up on her own instruction not to drive a blade into anyone’s shoulder blades to get her way. She was still on edge about what sort of person could inhabit a bedraggled island such as this.

Ruby shrugged, before she turned back fully to face the enthroned woman. “The only way to find that out, my good lady, is to get off your pretty little backside,” which, from Ruby, was as much of a compliment as it was an insult, “and come and see it for yourself!” She set about checking the contents of her pockets, adjusting her dress, and making sure her boots were securely and appropriately fashioned. If she was going back to the market heart of the city, to entertain, she was sure as hell not going to let herself go now.

The awkward silence remained woefully awkward, mottled with seagulls, crashing waves, and unloading crates. Ruby left it just long enough to reach fever pitch, before she glared at Gable, nodded back to the city again, and walked off without her. “Come, Miss Rose, the city and all its wonders await you!” she chuckled loudly, effeminately, and divinely. “Not to mention a rather fine glass of chianti!” her voice began to fade into the shadows of the docklands, and the clip of her heels against the salty stone.