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Enjoy!!", "writing": "Prologue: The Vessel and the Immortal\n\n\tThe bowels of the earth were no place for wolves to walk. The ancient, pitted floors lay hidden beneath layers of dust and grime, forgotten in the dark.\n\n\tGiovanni’s eyes narrowed-- the shadows dancing just outside of the fickle light of the torch.\n\n\t“I am here.” Giovanni’s voice spoke into the darkness.\n\n\tThere was no echo. Giovanni could feel the yawning expanse swallow his words. The wolf’s paw faltered for a moment on the torch as the darkness before him shifted. He blinked forward for a moment, then winced visibly, his eyes turning down. \n\n\t“I am here.” Giovanni repeated, his voice tenuous as the flame flickered-- the once vibrant light slowly being strangled by the tangible darkness.\n\n\tThe shadows themselves seemed to coo in what Giovanni could only pray was approval. It whispered in his ear; its language not comprised of words, but seemingly of instinct, and guttural emotions.\n\n\tInstincts that begged Giovanni to run.\n\n\tGiovanni tried to force himself to swallow the lump in his throat as its unnatural presence drifted in circles around him. He could do little but stare at the ground between his feet.\n\n\t“You have been more than generous...” The wolf responded, his arms lowering slowly, causing cinders from the torch to fall to the dirt below. “You have given me my son, and my life.” The wolf muttered, his eyes blinking tears as the darkness became… suffocating.\n\n\tThe wolf felt his paw move to his hip. It rested on the handle of a single-shot, flint lock pistol.\n\n\tThe darkness responded in its own way. The beckoning shadows lapping gently as the flame was snuffed out by the inky blackness.\n\n\tThe torch fell to the ground, leaving the wolf to stand alone in the whispering void.\n\n\tSilence took hold of the cavern, until Giovanni found his resolve. He ripped the pistol from its holster, baring his teeth in an ugly snarl as he shoved it against his own throat.\n\n\tA benediction would slow him. The darkness would take him; that was the contract from so long ago.\n\n\tGiovanni Wolfhardt would not be the vessel of Udun’Vrah.\n\n\tThe spark of flame.\n\n\tThe thunder of gunpowder.\n\n\tThe howl of rage.\n\n\tThe robbery from a god.\n\nChapter One: Part One\n\nThe City of Stilts\n\n\tThe clouds hung low over Khami Rhus, the sheet of black feeling only an arms reach away from the top of the chapel. Rain nor wind came with it-- a blessing, really, to the foreigners staying within the precariously located city.\n\n\tWedged against a cliff and straddling a river and waterfall, more carefully considered architecture would have made Khami Rhus a place of surreal beauty. But prayer, and expertly considered placement of iron braces were the only things keeping the two sides of the city from collapsing against one another to fall into the raging river below.\n\n\tThroughout its bleak history the village of outlaws turned miners or fisherman had stood the tests of time with stoic resolve. This particular season saw the trout run sparse, and grain thin. The copper harvests had been less than stellar, and the coal veins proving unreliable, impure and unfit for export.\n\n\tKhami Rhus would weather the poverty as it always did... but the denizens were little prepared for the quake that devastated the local mine.\n\n\tThe once private city, and the most lucrative of copper and coal mines north of Burghem was all but ransacked with doctors, scientists, apothecaries, and clergy; bustling across the bridges with alarming purpose. Khami Rhus was all but modernized overnight, with hastily installed gaslights, a gondola to the forest far below, and steel reinforcements to the load bearing beams holding the city upright.\n\n\tAttempts to lower powerful excavation equipment failed catastrophically-- sending a renown drill and its crew to their grave at the bottom of the waterfall. The remainder of the work was only left to swarthy workmen, and sturdy shovels.\n\n\tFeeble braces and inadequate ventilation bred ill-tempered, and violent workmen and structural collapses had turned the sprawling tunnel system into a singular pit; echoing with the screams of the trapped, injured and dying. Gravel and heavy rock had torn limbs from bodies, and the squalid conditions of the mines had made infection as common as blood.\n\n\tWorkers who were able scurried to and fro; canines, avians and felines alike pulling away debris, fallen friends from the dry air, and red dust.\n\n\tLimb, body, bone or flesh alike was brought one and all to the church a stones throw from the mines, where figures in towering cassocks, and expressionless porcelain masks scurried; apothekes crammed desperately to one side of the church, and pews dismantled, and lined up for ramshackle gurneys across from them with a single aisle down the middle to allow foot traffic to the altar.\n\n\tThe masks did little to aid the apothekes and doctors-- muffling the shouts for help or materials and poultices; many working away from the patients had even removed their masks entirely to better communicate.\n\n\tPaws dashed over the dwindling supply of fresh herbs, alcohols and clays; each of three dozen apothekes scrambling to keep up with the requirements of the sea of patients, and the handful of providers.\n\n\t\"Move...! Move!\" A voice shouted toward the table. The apothekes stared for a moment as one, only to rescind their paws-- a caravan of trolleys moving just passed the table, swapping empty bowls, jugs and jars with preciously few ingredients.\n\n\t\"Damn my eyes... Is this everything!?\" The head-apothecary, Reynauld Byron, squawked irately. The raven's glossy black feathers ruffled slightly as he scowled forward at the line of scientists, who could only nod abysmally.\n\n\tAnthony-- a border collie standing only a few strides from the avian-- saw the dismay cross the bird's wizened, aged features. He wet his lips slowly as Reynauld relented, the bird's shoulders drooping as he glanced over the table, then onward to the patients. The suppliers left as quickly as they had come; Anthony was among the few that did not rush immediately back to the table.\n\n\t\"What next, Prelate Byron...?\" Anthony asked cautiously as the raven strode by him.\n\n\tThe raven's eyes darted across the scene, his throat visibly tight as he surveyed what he could of the area.\n\n\t\"There has to be some local herbs... anything...\" Anthony's ears perked as he slid behind the bird, following Reynauld closely. \"Peppermint, yarrow....\"\n\n\t\"Prelate Byron?\"\n\n\t\"Speak quickly.\"\n\n\t\"A salvage crew works to bring the drill to the surface. There is a gondola to the surface below used often by the workers to change shifts.\"\n\n\t\"Your point?\"\n\n\t\"I'll gather herbs from the forests below.\" Anthony said flatly as they reached the open, stagnant air. \"Peppermint, yarrow...?\" The collie said, hoping to goad more from the avian.\n\n\tThe Prelate rubbed his forehead, clacking his beak pensively as his shoulders drooped slowly. \"In this climate, peppermint may be difficult to find. Perhaps just mint, balsam fir, yarrow and mold for now.\"\n\n\t\"Keep the infections down, and the digestive system moving.\" Anthony wet his lips carefully, the collie dedicating the small list to memory as the avian spoke again.\n\n\t\"If you can find it, vervain. Some of our own are starting to exhibit symptoms of stress disorder.\"\n\n\tAnthony nodded, wetting his lips carefully as he glanced toward the sky. \"What time do you think the shift changes--\"\n\n\t\"Dusk and dawn.\" Reynauld said smoothly. \"I was a laborsman salvager before a trade apotheke.\"\n\n\t\"Anything I should know?\"\n\n\t\"There are two things aboard those ships, lad--\" The avian called over his shoulder as he strode across the wavering rope bridge. \"Vulgarity and drink.\"\n\nChapter One: Part Two\n\nThe Salvage Beneath\n\nThe gondola lowered Anthony, as well as a handful of replacement shift workers through the fog below. The collie felt himself stiffen as the rickety bunch of cables and catwalk descended through the four stories of of all-encompassing vapor.\n\nFor several moments, nothing but whiteness surrounded them; as if they were suspended between worlds, with only the crashing of the waterfall a stones throw away as their guide. \n\nThe canine’s toes curled in his thick boots, and he clutched the bulky apothecary luggage more tightly. He heard the distinct rattle of the glass bottles-- and more than a few of the heads turned to face him at the sound.\n\nAnthony nodded politely to the interested parties, whose intrigue shrank immediately after the collie offered no comment, or attempt to start a dialogue. He silently prayed that nothing had broken, but didn’t dare open the box to look.\n\n“Going fishing…?” The collie nearly jumped out of his fur as he glanced over his shoulder to the wizened Schnauzer that looked him over disinterestedly. “Pardon me for saying, but you don’t seem the type to be carrying a tackle box like that.”\n\n“Oh no… not fishing, just gathering some ingredients.” Anthony explained, doing his best to smile that the other canine’s features. \n\nThe dog had to lift his long bangs from his forehead, pushing the fur back away from his eyes before his beard turned up in a pleasant, if not slightly garish smile. “You one of them doctors running around up top…?”\n\n“Yessir.”\n\n“So what do you hope to find by running down here…?” The Schnauzer asked slowly. Anthony blinked, uncertain if he was being accused of desertion, or if the dog truly wanted to know.\n\n“I’m gathering herbs, molds and other plants to help treat the wounded.”\n\n“You’re leaving your job to pick daisies, you mean…?” The dog was joined by few others in a small chuckle at the collie’s expense as the gondola landed.\n\n“After a point, yes.” Anthony said smoothly, stepping down from the gondola as immediately as he was able. “And-- beware the brightly colored fruits from trees down south… Cocoa trees...” Anthony said, glancing over his shoulder to the Schnauzer. “They’ll kill you.”\n\n“Never been hurt by fruit before there lad.” The dog mused as he and the other company too, stepped off of the platform and toward the steam-ship, anchored just beneath Khami Rhus.\n\nAnthony waited until they were out of ear shot before growling to himself. “And that is too damned bad now, isn’t it…?” The collie stomped toward the forest’s edge before setting down the apothecary bag next to him.\n\nHe blinked at the large, leather bound box, then opened the twin doors atop it, and pulled the nesting drawers from beneath. The Schnauzer hadn’t been lying-- now that he looked at it, the container did resemble a fisherman’s tackle box. \n\nWhere lines and rods were intended in the large base container, jars, diagrams, a mortar and pestle, as well as a small book of medicinal plants stood-- syringes and other ghastly materials for inoculation and transfusion above those. \n\nAnthony couldn’t help but recall one of the infinite number of penny dreadfuls he had read on the train ride here… \n\nPlague Doctor.\n\nThe collie nearly began to laugh as he glanced upward to the trees-- mostly pine trees-- which was something of a bless. Teas made from the nettles were famous for their high vitamin content. \n\nMost of the low-hanging branches had already been picked barren for the nettle’s uses-- coughs, colds, anti-inflammatory… even antiseptics. Equal parts professional elation and bile rose to the back of his throat. \n\nHad they required so many of the needles that the forest looked this barren…? Particularly low hanging branches were nothing but twigs-- as if this particular area of the forest was ground zero for a parasitic infection of tre--\n\nOff topic. Anthony chastised himself, his gaze narrowing to the glass jars in the pits of the box below. Yarrow, nettles, sap, mint, and a handful of molds and mushrooms… \n\nAnything they could use to fend off the symptoms of those just three stories overhead. \n\nThe canine nearly jumped out of his fur at the alto ring of an urgent bell. Nearly abandoning the apothecary case after hearing shouts-- the collie scrambled, haphazardly closing the canisters and rushing to the source. \n\nAwkwardly shouldering the box as he hurried, the collie’s eyes finally beheld the ship he had heard so much second-hand chatter of. \n\nSmall enough to fit down the river forged by the Khami Rhus waterfall, with six powerful engines forcing their way forward against the wake. Barren of sails, the ship appeared as if it were modeled after some sort of insect. \n\nThree rotating engines on either side, and an open deck with a myriad of tubes falling off of the sides of the ship for God-only-knew what reason. \n\nAnthony stopped at the water’s edge, blinking in confusion as men with large spools of chains began twisting, pairs at a time, to rescind the tubes that had fallen into the water below. The collie’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight; other beasts in… \n\nHe didn’t know how to describe their attire; heavy boxed helms-- glass on all sides with a tube reaching to the crown of the box… And some sort of exoskeleton, fashioned out of brass piping. \n\nThe collie’s head cocked. Were these the ‘robots’ that were made so popular in the penny dreadfuls…? \n\n“That is utterly ridiculous...” Anthony blinked as one of the helmets was pulled off from the familiar face of the same Schnauzer whom he had traded barbs with not minutes before. \n\n“You there, Doctor!!” One of the crewmen shouted from the boat. \n\nThe collie didn’t need more of an invitation than that. Turning his head to and fro, the canine shouted back. “I’ll need a way aboard!” he responded-- not even caring to let the gentlebeast finish. \n\n“Gangplank’s on the starboard side at the bow!”\n\n“I’m an apothecary, not a sailor!”\n\n“What the hell more direction do you want!?”\n\n“Am I on the proper side, and is that near the front, or rear of the ship!”\n\n“Toward Khami Rhus! And you’re on the right side of it!” \n\nAnthony rushed the… front…? The collie already detested the new ship’s design-- it was little more than a slat of steel, brass and wood. How the hell was one to tell which was the front, or rear of the ship? \n\nThere wasn’t so much as a bridge, or raised pillar to signify a lookout. It was simply a floating bit of floor as far as the collie was concerned. \n\nHe breathed a sign of relief as a gangplank became visible. It was easily the most ornate bit of the boat. Arms from the side of the structure reached out-- mighty hooks that impaled the ground several feet ashore. From there, cleverly constructed metal slats were attached between chains that created a stable, but highly portable (Anthony assumed these too would roll up into some crevice in the ship) walk way.\n\n“What’s the problem?”\n\n“Do you have permission to board this ship, doct--”\n\n“Oh for fuck’s sake you called me. This is hardly appropriate. What’s the problem?” Anthony insisted. \n\nThe sailor-- Anthony didn’t quite care exactly who or what he was-- found himself forced aside. A tenuous path was cleared between the collie, and an otter, who clutched the stump of an arm, balled up in agony and blood.\n\n“My God… what happened!?” Anthony demanded-- the apotheke case clattering to the ground in a menagerie of horrible, glass-scraping sounds. \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Prologue: The Vessel and the Immortal

\tThe bowels of the earth were no place for wolves to walk. The ancient, pitted floors lay hidden beneath layers of dust and grime, forgotten in the dark.

\tGiovanni’s eyes narrowed-- the shadows dancing just outside of the fickle light of the torch.

\t“I am here.” Giovanni’s voice spoke into the darkness.

\tThere was no echo. Giovanni could feel the yawning expanse swallow his words. The wolf’s paw faltered for a moment on the torch as the darkness before him shifted. He blinked forward for a moment, then winced visibly, his eyes turning down.

\t“I am here.” Giovanni repeated, his voice tenuous as the flame flickered-- the once vibrant light slowly being strangled by the tangible darkness.

\tThe shadows themselves seemed to coo in what Giovanni could only pray was approval. It whispered in his ear; its language not comprised of words, but seemingly of instinct, and guttural emotions.

\tInstincts that begged Giovanni to run.

\tGiovanni tried to force himself to swallow the lump in his throat as its unnatural presence drifted in circles around him. He could do little but stare at the ground between his feet.

\t“You have been more than generous...” The wolf responded, his arms lowering slowly, causing cinders from the torch to fall to the dirt below. “You have given me my son, and my life.” The wolf muttered, his eyes blinking tears as the darkness became… suffocating.

\tThe wolf felt his paw move to his hip. It rested on the handle of a single-shot, flint lock pistol.

\tThe darkness responded in its own way. The beckoning shadows lapping gently as the flame was snuffed out by the inky blackness.

\tThe torch fell to the ground, leaving the wolf to stand alone in the whispering void.

\tSilence took hold of the cavern, until Giovanni found his resolve. He ripped the pistol from its holster, baring his teeth in an ugly snarl as he shoved it against his own throat.

\tA benediction would slow him. The darkness would take him; that was the contract from so long ago.

\tGiovanni Wolfhardt would not be the vessel of Udun’Vrah.

\tThe spark of flame.

\tThe thunder of gunpowder.

\tThe howl of rage.

\tThe robbery from a god.

Chapter One: Part One

The City of Stilts

\tThe clouds hung low over Khami Rhus, the sheet of black feeling only an arms reach away from the top of the chapel. Rain nor wind came with it-- a blessing, really, to the foreigners staying within the precariously located city.

\tWedged against a cliff and straddling a river and waterfall, more carefully considered architecture would have made Khami Rhus a place of surreal beauty. But prayer, and expertly considered placement of iron braces were the only things keeping the two sides of the city from collapsing against one another to fall into the raging river below.

\tThroughout its bleak history the village of outlaws turned miners or fisherman had stood the tests of time with stoic resolve. This particular season saw the trout run sparse, and grain thin. The copper harvests had been less than stellar, and the coal veins proving unreliable, impure and unfit for export.

\tKhami Rhus would weather the poverty as it always did... but the denizens were little prepared for the quake that devastated the local mine.

\tThe once private city, and the most lucrative of copper and coal mines north of Burghem was all but ransacked with doctors, scientists, apothecaries, and clergy; bustling across the bridges with alarming purpose. Khami Rhus was all but modernized overnight, with hastily installed gaslights, a gondola to the forest far below, and steel reinforcements to the load bearing beams holding the city upright.

\tAttempts to lower powerful excavation equipment failed catastrophically-- sending a renown drill and its crew to their grave at the bottom of the waterfall. The remainder of the work was only left to swarthy workmen, and sturdy shovels.

\tFeeble braces and inadequate ventilation bred ill-tempered, and violent workmen and structural collapses had turned the sprawling tunnel system into a singular pit; echoing with the screams of the trapped, injured and dying. Gravel and heavy rock had torn limbs from bodies, and the squalid conditions of the mines had made infection as common as blood.

\tWorkers who were able scurried to and fro; canines, avians and felines alike pulling away debris, fallen friends from the dry air, and red dust.

\tLimb, body, bone or flesh alike was brought one and all to the church a stones throw from the mines, where figures in towering cassocks, and expressionless porcelain masks scurried; apothekes crammed desperately to one side of the church, and pews dismantled, and lined up for ramshackle gurneys across from them with a single aisle down the middle to allow foot traffic to the altar.

\tThe masks did little to aid the apothekes and doctors-- muffling the shouts for help or materials and poultices; many working away from the patients had even removed their masks entirely to better communicate.

\tPaws dashed over the dwindling supply of fresh herbs, alcohols and clays; each of three dozen apothekes scrambling to keep up with the requirements of the sea of patients, and the handful of providers.

\t"Move...! Move!" A voice shouted toward the table. The apothekes stared for a moment as one, only to rescind their paws-- a caravan of trolleys moving just passed the table, swapping empty bowls, jugs and jars with preciously few ingredients.

\t"Damn my eyes... Is this everything!?" The head-apothecary, Reynauld Byron, squawked irately. The raven's glossy black feathers ruffled slightly as he scowled forward at the line of scientists, who could only nod abysmally.

\tAnthony-- a border collie standing only a few strides from the avian-- saw the dismay cross the bird's wizened, aged features. He wet his lips slowly as Reynauld relented, the bird's shoulders drooping as he glanced over the table, then onward to the patients. The suppliers left as quickly as they had come; Anthony was among the few that did not rush immediately back to the table.

\t"What next, Prelate Byron...?" Anthony asked cautiously as the raven strode by him.

\tThe raven's eyes darted across the scene, his throat visibly tight as he surveyed what he could of the area.

\t"There has to be some local herbs... anything..." Anthony's ears perked as he slid behind the bird, following Reynauld closely. "Peppermint, yarrow...."

\t"Prelate Byron?"

\t"Speak quickly."

\t"A salvage crew works to bring the drill to the surface. There is a gondola to the surface below used often by the workers to change shifts."

\t"Your point?"

\t"I'll gather herbs from the forests below." Anthony said flatly as they reached the open, stagnant air. "Peppermint, yarrow...?" The collie said, hoping to goad more from the avian.

\tThe Prelate rubbed his forehead, clacking his beak pensively as his shoulders drooped slowly. "In this climate, peppermint may be difficult to find. Perhaps just mint, balsam fir, yarrow and mold for now."

\t"Keep the infections down, and the digestive system moving." Anthony wet his lips carefully, the collie dedicating the small list to memory as the avian spoke again.

\t"If you can find it, vervain. Some of our own are starting to exhibit symptoms of stress disorder."

\tAnthony nodded, wetting his lips carefully as he glanced toward the sky. "What time do you think the shift changes--"

\t"Dusk and dawn." Reynauld said smoothly. "I was a laborsman salvager before a trade apotheke."

\t"Anything I should know?"

\t"There are two things aboard those ships, lad--" The avian called over his shoulder as he strode across the wavering rope bridge. "Vulgarity and drink."

Chapter One: Part Two

The Salvage Beneath

The gondola lowered Anthony, as well as a handful of replacement shift workers through the fog below. The collie felt himself stiffen as the rickety bunch of cables and catwalk descended through the four stories of of all-encompassing vapor.

For several moments, nothing but whiteness surrounded them; as if they were suspended between worlds, with only the crashing of the waterfall a stones throw away as their guide.

The canine’s toes curled in his thick boots, and he clutched the bulky apothecary luggage more tightly. He heard the distinct rattle of the glass bottles-- and more than a few of the heads turned to face him at the sound.

Anthony nodded politely to the interested parties, whose intrigue shrank immediately after the collie offered no comment, or attempt to start a dialogue. He silently prayed that nothing had broken, but didn’t dare open the box to look.

“Going fishing…?” The collie nearly jumped out of his fur as he glanced over his shoulder to the wizened Schnauzer that looked him over disinterestedly. “Pardon me for saying, but you don’t seem the type to be carrying a tackle box like that.”

“Oh no… not fishing, just gathering some ingredients.” Anthony explained, doing his best to smile that the other canine’s features.

The dog had to lift his long bangs from his forehead, pushing the fur back away from his eyes before his beard turned up in a pleasant, if not slightly garish smile. “You one of them doctors running around up top…?”

“Yessir.”

“So what do you hope to find by running down here…?” The Schnauzer asked slowly. Anthony blinked, uncertain if he was being accused of desertion, or if the dog truly wanted to know.

“I’m gathering herbs, molds and other plants to help treat the wounded.”

“You’re leaving your job to pick daisies, you mean…?” The dog was joined by few others in a small chuckle at the collie’s expense as the gondola landed.

“After a point, yes.” Anthony said smoothly, stepping down from the gondola as immediately as he was able. “And-- beware the brightly colored fruits from trees down south… Cocoa trees...” Anthony said, glancing over his shoulder to the Schnauzer. “They’ll kill you.”

“Never been hurt by fruit before there lad.” The dog mused as he and the other company too, stepped off of the platform and toward the steam-ship, anchored just beneath Khami Rhus.

Anthony waited until they were out of ear shot before growling to himself. “And that is too damned bad now, isn’t it…?”  The collie stomped toward the forest’s edge before setting down the apothecary bag next to him.

He blinked at the large, leather bound box, then opened the twin doors atop it, and pulled the nesting drawers from beneath. The Schnauzer hadn’t been lying-- now that he looked at it, the container did resemble a fisherman’s tackle box.

Where lines and rods were intended in the large base container, jars, diagrams, a mortar and pestle, as well as a small book of medicinal plants stood-- syringes and other ghastly materials for inoculation and transfusion above those.

Anthony couldn’t help but recall one of the infinite number of penny dreadfuls he had read on the train ride here…

Plague Doctor.

The collie nearly began to laugh as he glanced upward to the trees-- mostly pine trees-- which was something of a bless. Teas made from the nettles were famous for their high vitamin content.

Most of the low-hanging branches had already been picked barren for the nettle’s uses-- coughs, colds, anti-inflammatory… even antiseptics. Equal parts professional elation and bile rose to the back of his throat.

Had they required so many of the needles that the forest looked this barren…? Particularly low hanging branches were nothing but twigs-- as if this particular area of the forest was ground zero for a parasitic infection of tre--

Off topic. Anthony chastised himself, his gaze narrowing to the glass jars in the pits of the box below. Yarrow, nettles, sap, mint, and a handful of molds and mushrooms…

Anything they could use to fend off the symptoms of those just three stories overhead.

The canine nearly jumped out of his fur at the alto ring of an urgent bell. Nearly abandoning the apothecary case after hearing shouts-- the collie scrambled, haphazardly closing the canisters and rushing to the source.

Awkwardly shouldering the box as he hurried, the collie’s eyes finally beheld the ship he had heard so much second-hand chatter of.

Small enough to fit down the river forged by the Khami Rhus waterfall, with six powerful engines forcing their way forward against the wake.  Barren of sails, the ship appeared as if it were modeled after some sort of insect.

Three rotating engines on either side, and an open deck with a myriad of tubes falling off of the sides of the ship for God-only-knew what reason.

Anthony stopped at the water’s edge, blinking in confusion as men with large spools of chains began twisting, pairs at a time, to rescind the tubes that had fallen into the water below. The collie’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight; other beasts in…

He didn’t know how to describe their attire; heavy boxed helms-- glass on all sides with a tube reaching to the crown of the box… And some sort of exoskeleton, fashioned out of brass piping.

The collie’s head cocked. Were these the ‘robots’ that were made so popular in the penny dreadfuls…?  

“That is utterly ridiculous...” Anthony blinked as one of the helmets was pulled off from the familiar face of the same Schnauzer whom he had traded barbs with not minutes before.

“You there, Doctor!!” One of the crewmen shouted from the boat.

The collie didn’t need more of an invitation than that. Turning his head to and fro, the canine shouted back. “I’ll need a way aboard!” he responded-- not even caring to let the gentlebeast finish.

“Gangplank’s on the starboard side at the bow!”

“I’m an apothecary, not a sailor!”

“What the hell more direction do you want!?”

“Am I on the proper side, and is that near the front, or rear of the ship!”

“Toward Khami Rhus! And you’re on the right side of it!”

Anthony rushed the… front…? The collie already detested the new ship’s design-- it was little more than a slat of steel, brass and wood. How the hell was one to tell which was the front, or rear of the ship?

There wasn’t so much as a bridge, or raised pillar to signify a lookout. It was simply a floating bit of floor as far as the collie was concerned.

He breathed a sign of relief as a gangplank became visible. It was easily the most ornate bit of the boat. Arms from the side of the structure reached out-- mighty hooks that impaled the ground several feet ashore. From there, cleverly constructed metal slats were attached between chains that created a stable, but highly portable (Anthony assumed these too would roll up into some crevice in the ship) walk way.

“What’s the problem?”

“Do you have permission to board this ship, doct--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake you called me. This is hardly appropriate. What’s the problem?” Anthony insisted.  

The sailor-- Anthony didn’t quite care exactly who or what he was-- found himself forced aside. A tenuous path was cleared between the collie, and an otter, who clutched the stump of an arm, balled up in agony and blood.

“My God… what happened!?” Anthony demanded-- the apotheke case clattering to the ground in a menagerie of horrible, glass-scraping sounds.

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