Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Armada Dispatch: Moving In

Location: Armada Breakaway Sim
Iggy's Note: I'm going to be writing dispatches from this new Steampunk roleplaying sim. It's based upon concepts from China Mieville's novel The Scar, about a floating city of the world of Bas-Lag. Armada is made from hulls captured by pirates. I'll be doing so "in character." Don't expect objectivity in these reports!

Armada Breakaway was the work of four founders; Viv Trafalgar is shown (as one of the merfolk). Viv built the undersea portions of this city of ships. The main builder of Armada, Albus Wekaus Weka, has not met me yet, nor has Remington Thursday. I've met DreddpirateBob Streeter, who has a fascination with explosives.
From the logbook of Professor Onomatopoeia

Day One: I'm fortunate that this city-of-ships would take in such a wretched castaway, stuck in a battered whaleboat with one change of clothing in my portmanteau, a case of old and curious books, and a few odd biological specimens whose nature still eludes me. My vessel sank quickly, and these were all I could salvage. No others survived the strange storm, surely a work of thaumaturgy, not nature. But on Bas-Lag, who can tell the difference?

The local Council was on hand to greet me, drenched wretch that I was. Miss Trafalgar and Mr. Streeter, who insists that I call him "Bob," made me welcome and discussed finances so I could let a room. The idea occured to me that a bookshop might do well in a floating city of castaways--I have yet to determine how they keep finding new ships let do not leave this place. Given the sometimes dangerous nature of my work, I had to find a remote--and stout--dwelling place. One must keep certain things locked up tightly.

Day Two: I've let what the locals call "the White Ship" and hung out my sign: "Office of Professor Onomatopoeia, Dealer in Arcane Tomes."

It's a metal hulled vessel stout enough to repel boarders...or any dangerous contents of my shop. And this floating city does get attacked by scoundrels in league with the corrupt government of New Crobuzon, my old home. I miss that city, but I don't miss its Mayor and Militia. I took ship just ahead of the party sent to arrest me...

My texts are a little damp from the storm, yet no ink ran. That is the nature of the strange volumes I manage to find on my journeys. I'm not even certain that some were written by mortal hands of any of the races on Bas-Lag.


I was delighted to find that Miss Morigi, a long-time traveling companion, drifted to Armada Breakaway upon a bit of flotsam. I'd so feared her loss with our ship. Armada's citizens welcomed her as well, and she found a snug corner for her abode in part of the White Ship.

Day Three:

I've encountered the residents who live below our city and protect it from all manner of undersea harm. The Mer are curious and creative, I'm told, and they live in unity with the surface-dwellers of this labyrinthine construction.

to be continued...

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