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GM August 11th, Late Evening In a plane... Or more precisely, Mr Jonathon Hale, Esq, asleep in a Plane... Across endless icy plains, mountains, and beautiful bleakness...an Icebreaker was trapped. Steam poured out of engines, and whilst Ice cracked, it did not splinter asunder. Outside, Inuit and Europeans were hacking at the ice, desperate to move the ferocious ship. It groaned, full of Iron and Guns and Coal. And a black coated man with the biggest and blackest handgun one could conceive stood on the ship, bristling with frustration. The ship must break free! Seek it! Arnasaq woke him up. She was as quirky and beautiful as ever, at least to Mr Hale's eyes. A little older, a little wiser. And right now, rather worried... "Ladies and Gentlemen...please fasten your seatbelts and assume the crash position!" Screams and sweats poured forth from the passengers, who nevertheless did what they were told, and with great frenzy. As the Plane started to descend, Arnasaq pointed Mr. Hales eyes to the starboard wing, where one engine was smoking most alarmingly indeed. Below, the icy plains of Greenland, where Arnasaq had insisted they return for a break. And it look like a break was what they were getting. A quite different type of break. A piece of wing looked like it was going to break. And it did, splintering from the main wing and tumbling in a rather splendid arc, trailing black smoke.