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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. 

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Awaking to such chaos he swallowed his natural panicking reaction and quickly assessing the dangerous situation he found himself and his beloved Arna in he flung himself into action with fierce instinct after taking a moment to reassure arna that all would be well he  releases his belt and lunges quickly for his overhead luggage compartment, Grasping onto the bag he had brought aboard with him, though he had since given up on adventuring with his heirlooms since the incident with the group of T-Babies assaulting the mall he remained as ever cautious and paranoid that in some way the world was just waiting to rob him of everything once again.


Struggling against the terrible turbulance and his own sweating and trembling fingers he burst the zips to get at his precious belonging; a ornate plate helm painted black and almost unusually cold to the touch, without so much as a second thought for his secret identity summons forth his armour from the void scabbard and with it, the sword of his families bane, the tool that had wrought misery upon all whom touched it, blade or hilt, ripping from the extradimensional darkness; aldonite, blade of the betrayers


the moment his fingers grasped its hilt he felt the psychic assault of wrath from the blade drilling its way into his skull with fury but by measure of his hysteric need to protect his beloved he powers through and using all the might of his soul pushes upon the souls within with a single simple directive.


"Deliver us."

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A sword was a most marvellous instrument of war. And a magical sword a most marvellous instrument of war and more. However, it would appear that it was no so marvellous when it came to planes hurtling out of the sky. 


The icy sheets grew closer and closer. There was a sickening pop of ears with the descent. 


There was also a popping sick of a few nauseated passengers, who determined to paint the cabin with the contents of the gastric organs. 


Arna was silent, but sweaty palms dug into Mr. Hales arm. Her fingers seemed possessed of particularly prestigious strength when infused with fear. 


To the tune of prayers silent and spoken, the Plane hit the Ice with an almighty jarring, and started to spin on the icy sheets...

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The scant moments before the impact found jonathan Hale a whirlwind of emotions


"Damnable sword!" he all but screams at it, the ancient sword consumed the essence of its victims, and over its long life it had consumed plenty, he refused to believe that there was not one amongst them that had some power...some capacity to avert this disaster.


<I swear on the graves of all who have come before me, Aldonite, if my beloved is lost I will find the fomorians and free them myself! Do you here me spirit?! To hell with your quest, your grand purpose, your generation upon generations of suffering! I will toss you into the darkest depths of the most forgotten of oceans to while away eternity!> he screamed within his mind  as he wrapped his free arm around arnasaq and willing his heart, soul and body to protect her even as his brain raged against the blades indifference.


"I love you Arna", he says unabashedly to her as he banishes his armour and rests the sword, point down before him "I won't let you come to harm." he resolves "I just...I won't!"


before anymore could be said or done he felt the sickening thud of the sudden stop.

Edited by Exaccus
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Around and around the plane spun. It appeared to take most violent delight in shedding various bits of its metal skins and metal bones as it danced on the ice. 


The smell of the emptied stomach grew considerably stronger, and it was hardly incognito to begin with. 


All bad things must come to end however, and with due rumblings, the plane (or, as subsequent investigations would determine, the remaining 89% of the plane) grew to a slippery stop. 


Screams came intermittently. The lights flickered, and emergency hatches blew upon. The Icy Greenland air blew in - cold but not unbearable. It was almost a relief given the unpleasant aroma of the cabin. 


Two rows back, a middle aged business man, looking rather concussed, screamed louder than most. His wife, sitting by his side, was unconscious. Both appeared bent and most peculiar angles, and Mr. Hale was quite certain that bones should not be poking out of thighs. There was a considerable amount of blood too, pumping merrily out of the compound fracture. 


"That doesn't look good..." mumbled a stunned Arna. 

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Reacting without thinking jonathan grips arna's hand tightly and pulls himself from his seat, watching from an outside perspective as he swung his sword down through the air, attempting to open a portal to Queen Ingrids hospital in Nuuk he knew it was important how the first few minuites went and that he lacked the training to stablize or help those most greviously injured, mercifully arna had been spared from more horrific injuries that littered the cabin.


He felt a little bit of guilty and sickening relief.


Space tore itself asunder and the corridor of swirling darkness he had so long ago forsake whirled itself into being, the emergency center of the hospital he had taken great precautions to learn enough about to teleport freely to in his paranoid protectiveness  swam hazily across the boarder


As he screamed at the top of his Lungs


"Help! We have Injured!" at a no doubt startled hospital staff before him from the edge of the portal so as not to obsure a clear view of the terrible scene..

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The Gate wobbled into existence. 


It was rather wobbly. Strained. Its rim blurred and every now and again jerking as if in the midst of some Eldritch epileptic jerk. Never the less, it connected to a hospital, a reasonably good one, it seemed. And with suitably shocked nursing and medical staff peering from the other side. 


"Help her! Help her!" spluttered the husband, taking his wife in his arms. He was not the tallest, or strongest man. But his arms were as desperate as his heart, and managed her weight. 


Arnaq was familiar enough with the portal to grab them and shove them through. 


"Anyone else hurt?" she asked to the cabin and crew. And many a "yay!" was the answer. A few, it seemed, were unconscious. 


"Lets get moving then!" she demanded. 


But Mr Hale could feel the strain on the portal, as if something was seeking to shut it, or rip it - or...change its location?

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it was not that he needed reminding why he loved Arna so, she was beautiful, had a strong heart and a fierce spirit, enough so to resist the likes of that Dead Ice ghost from their...first date, but it was times like this that she reinfoced it in his mind, it was times like this that she gave him strength.


"Go quickly!" Jonathan Booms with all the desperate authority he can muster, was the sword resisting him now? he couldn;t say for certain but it had remained oddly quiet "The passage Strains against me I do not know how long it will remain open...or stable!" his voice cracking with desperate panic as he does what he can to help those whom need it through the precipice and into the hospitals accident and emergency.though he was far from superhuman he enjoyed the strength of "good breeding" and the exercise of constant combat against superhuman foes...well it had been a while since that but...


<The pilots!> he thinks suddenly eyes darting towards the cockpit breifly before turning his head to Arna and lowering his voice "I...i need you to go through into the hospital Arna, i can feel the portal fighting me...its resisting me with hysterical strength. im going to go check on the pilots and follow you through with them."

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Every moment, the force on the portal grew stronger. A force of physics, or metaphysics. Pressing on his mind through his sword. Dimensions were splintering here, in this strange Greenland. 


'Twas if an invisible hand was pushing the portal to a new view. 


Whilst that hand grew ever stronger, Mr. Hale Esq stepped over various luggage, broken in-flight drinks, and a bag of salted nuts. Over a few persons crawling this way and that. Over various bodily fluids that slowly congealed into a most unpalatable soup. 


The pilots door was buckled, not easy to open.... 


Sparks sparked. Smoke smoked. Emergency lights flickered and dimmed. 


And a load groan of "help!" came from the Cockpit. 

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Wasting as little time as possible he drives the tip of aldonite into the wedge of the door pressing with all his might and slamming his palm into the hilt to leverage the buckled door open one corner at a time popping the mercifully lightweight and relatively pliable metal open and stepping into the cockpit to get a better grasp on the situation.


Addressing the piloet as directly as he can "Can you stand?" he speaks directly, though he felt great pity and empathy for the suffering of all those around him time was of the essence and platitudes were a poor salve for blood loss, Trauma and Exposure to the harsh cold of greenlands wilderness, a lesson he had learned not too long ago.

Edited by Exaccus
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The Pilot nodded groggily. The co-pilot was out cold, however. His scalp had connected with great force against a dangling piece of electronics. This had effected an impressive looking gash across his forehead that was gushing claret. 


In fairness to the dangling circuit boards, they did produce some rather pretty sparks. 


"I don't think he can though..." slurred the pilot, who took a few steps forward and slumped to the right with a rather unpleasant bend of his ankle. One would suppose it was neither right nor proper for an ankle to bend that way. Especially with the sound of grinding bones. 


"I can make it!" demanded the pilot, dazed and confused. His co-pilot did not reply. 

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Holding tightly to the image of his beloved and drawing out every ounce of his strength he freed the co-pilot from his seatbelt and shouldered him in a firemans lift and hooked his arms beneath the limping pilots knees and took  his weight against him as he carried him; his muscles bulged and ached beneath the weight of the two men and his armours bulk, the lether straps that held the plate fast against his body creaking and popping with every laboured step.


He would've said something reassuring, something to ease their minds and his own worries if he could spare and ounce of his concentration from keeping the portal open and correctly alligned against the ever growing preasure, the stress however was taking its tool, he could feel the cool sensation of blood trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth as he thudded ever forwards towards the portal. muscles twanging, brain aching and sword grasped tightly in a numb hand*

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Most of the passengers had run, stumbled, or walked through the portal now. Arnaq was bravely helping, or pushing them through the portal to the waiting arms of the Hospital beyond. 


There was fizz, a fuzz, and the world went black for a second. 


And then lights flickered. There was a smell of steam in the air. 


Arnaq stood by the portal, helping the last woman through, who seemed as if, at any moment, she might expire. 


But between the portal (and Arnaq), and Mr Hale (and the pilot leaning on him), there now stood a curious antiquity. A black pepper pot robot, with iron plating that looked like it had been coated in a century of soot. With steam emitting from its furiously hot furnace interior. 


With piping and clanking, like a Babbage Machine on speed, it gave an aproximation of speech. 


"Anomaly! Anomaly! Anomaly! Anomaly!...." and so on, to the point of most vexatious irritation, without sign of fatigue or pause. 


It positioned itself in front of the portal, its chubby arms pointing at the offending portal. 

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As he had been expecting all along, since he'd booked the tickets with arna, things had gotten weird and at the absolubte worst moment, no doubt the strain on his body and mind had allowed the pressure to do what it needed to do to throw everything askew, he'd been too weak..too slow to defy it and now arna was stuck in one of his messes again!


he could feel the little droplets of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes as the great guilt he still felt for getting her drawn into the cross fire of his heroing welled up in him again but he swallowed it along with his pride and his distress, shaking imperceptibly within his stoic armour he gathered his waning strength and spoke "Stand....Aside Machine." he growned through teeth gritted in determination


"There are injured whom must be tended too!" One warning and explanation was all it would get.

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The pepper pot automaton, barely five feet high (but with ample girth) did not reply. Whether by choice or by incapacity, one could not estimate at this juncture. 


It did, however, spin around a couple of times and give a "poot!" sound from a rather splendid copper tube. 


And with that, the portal shifted. It fizzed at the edges, buzzed like a hornet's nest, and then, in the blink of an eye, the scene change. 


It was still a hospital, it would seem, and still had startled nurses on the other side. But they looked like they were dressed from a century ago. The hospital was dim, to, with gaslights and tubes and what not and so forth. A rather odd antiquity, all in all. 


But still, the stubby robot did not move. 


And to compound the situation, Mr Hale, Esq, could feel the unconscious pilot in his arms begin to shake. 


A grand mal seizure!


If that did not resolve soon, the brain would be in trouble. 

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Jonathan could feel his temper rising and the offensively ignorant machine waddled around in its ridiculous tantrum like alarm, the simple fact that is had appeared at all had simply washed away, he'd become used to things such as this in his short career.


he'd been idly tempted by the idea of swatting it aside with aldonite and when he felt the sudden seizing of the comatose pirates muscles against his body as he writhed wildly in a Grand Mal Seizure.


I Don't have time for this, though he had said and thought this many times before it had often been in arrogance or pride when confronted with some minor and petty crook rather than the sheer realization that he had far more pressing things that required his immediate attention.


with a grunt of exertion and pushing his hysteric strength to its limits he brought the limping and concussed pilot to a suitable place to rest and turned his attention to the seizuring gentleman on his back.


lowering him to the floor and banishing his armour back into the void scabbard (so as to not cause any damage should his uncontrollable seizure cause him to strike against the mystically reinforced armour) he used what little he knew of medicine to the best effect he could manage.


it was important to support the head and protect it from hitting anything with the force of the involuntary spasms, that much he knew for definite, the rest would be quack work based on hearsay and half remembered texts as he split his attention between his beloved Arnasaq, the seizure struck pilot and the wobbling automaton before him

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The seizing man was convulsing badly, eyes turned upwards, teeth gritted. 


"Help him" shouted Arnsaq - uncharacteristic of her. It was a redundant statement, and she was usually level headed enough to avoid those. Still, it was the most strange of times. 


And about to get stranger still; for the buzzing portal buzzed still harder. The view shifted wildly, as if spinning over many miles, this way, then that. It was dizzying to peer into. Lightning fast pitches over horizons of ice and mountain. 


But then, one could peer no longer. For the portal exploded. 


That is to say it expanded in an instant, enveloping the entire plane and its inhabitants. They were all left alone, on strange Greenlander Ice. 


And not of Earth Prime...came the instinct. The Black Knight could feel the distortion. 


Fortunately, the rift through dimensions had seemed to knock the pilot out of his seizure and into a comatose slumber. 


And all the while the black pepper bot robot whistle steam...

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Sod's/Murphy's law, he wasn't sure which it was but it was out in force today it would seem, not only had his break in Greenland with Arna been disrupted but now they were not only stranded out in the icy wilderness of Greenland but in the icy wilderness of a parallel earth's greenland no less!


He however had no energy to waste on being Annoyed, he still had two very injured pilots and Arnasaq to look after before he could even think of resting or contemplating that it might've been the power of Aldonite itself that had caused the disaster that he just befallen his flight.


rising shakily to his feet, wearing naught but his shirt and trousers he'd worn to the airport this morning he found himself strangely inured to the deep cold, perhaps some resilience imparted by the dark magicks and unsavory deeds his family had trafficked in for generations or perhaps by the weakened Aldonite calling on the power of the ghostly shaman it had consumed to ward the elements away.


We need to find or make shelter and warmth.

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The same idea had apparently struck Arnaq; and not surprisingly. She was a native Greenlander. Ice, cold, and snow were second nature to her. 


For now, it was just her, the Black Knight, and the two injured Pilots. And the now silent pepper bot robot, black and steaming. 


And the chasis of the Plane, of course. For that, they had shelter. True it was rent asunder in many places, and nothing bar divine intervention would make it fly again. But it kept out the cold to some extent; the wind out side was soft, but even if it picked up, the plane would provide shelter in that regard. 


And one more boon; luggage! Strewn everywhere (Lamentably, much of it strewn out a half mile out on the ice). And plenty of food. Now, that food was microwavable (with no microwave) ready meals to be served in flight, and an endless supply of salted nuts (it seemed), but it was plenty of food. And water too, bottled, still, sparkling. Fruit juices for those who wanted a change of palate. And even a goodly stock of alcohol. 


Plus of course lots of souvenier tat; teddy bears, baseball caps, and the like. 

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He couldn't rest, not just yet, putting the pilots down in the husk of the planes fuselage out of the wind and cold as much as was able he turned his gaze to the wreckage of luggage and shrapnel that surrounded him and the wrecked cabin.


"Arna, Sweetheart, Please keep an eye on these two for me, Im going to go pick through this mess and see if i can find something useful." hugging her gently against himself with one arm for reassurance, his own as much as hers he proceeds to pick through the shattered luggage and spilled storages.


Starting a fire proved easy enough, there were enough lighters laying around and Junk to ignite with them, making a small wall around it from strong boxes, putting whatever food he came across into the void scabbard for now along with whatever seemed useful and then some.


A few minuets later he would return to arna with a small stash of items, High Powered Torch, Radio based personal distress beacon,  A Multi-tool, Space blanket and perhaps most fortunately of all, A Flare gun, Seemed a lot of people had taken the flight for a hiking holiday; The Vuvuzela however he kept to himself, but now was as good a time as any to give arna the small polar bear styled teddy he'd acquired before boarding, one of its button eyes had broken off during the chaos of the crash and overall it was a little worse for wear.


Sitting down besides her and confident that he'd taken care of anything he allowed his stoicism to relent a little as he empties out all of the numerous bags of salted peanuts from the void scabbard


"Glad you're not allergic to these." he adds, a nervous attempt to inject humour into a stressful situation, still keeping half an eye on the lumbering automaton and its Shenanigans.

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"Well, by the time we are out of this mess, I don't think I'll be eating peanuts for a while" she said, still grateful that they had goodly supplies of water and food. Even if nuts was the mainstay of the menu. 


She remained positive, but was thinking. "Still, we must be miles from the nearest settlement. Even if we do know where we are. Which, incidentally, we don't" she explained. "Plus, we have one pilot with a smashed ankle and another out cold"


"I doubt we can stay here forever. Even with supplies and the shelter. In essence, we are in a sorry jam" she explained. 


"Normally, I would say we should wait for air rescue. But I don't think that's coming. Do you? I'm not sure where that portal took us..."


She looked to her boyfriend for some enlightenment. 


"Which means we take a gamble what ever we do. Wait, and hope wherever we are knows we are out here. Or trek though the ice of Greenland, or wherever this is..."

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"you and me both.." he had very little taste for peanuts to begin with, he'd come to enjoy corndogs fried in peanut Oil and peanut butter on toast and the occasional cookie over his rather active traveling between the UK, Iceland and britain but in only the smallest quantities.


"As for where we are Arna...I don't know much but i know we're not earth...or at least not our version of it." he says, giving arna a moment to process this information before he resumes "I could feel some sort of pressure on the portal shifting its uuh trajectory kinda?" he tried his best to explain, much to his shame despite being steeped up to his eyeballs in magic he knew very little about it.


"That uppity toaster there." he says pointing at the lumbering automaton with his sword "Speaking English and being similar but divergent to the tech we have in our world along with the change of the cabin before the crash kinda seal the deal... that and you know im sorta uh sensative to that kinda thing 'cause of my folks...well i felt us leaving kinda."

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Arna gave a half sigh and slumped into a plane seat. An oxygen mask was dangling in front of her face, despite her attempts to brush it off. 


"Negative Anomaly...Negative Anomaly....Returning to base..." squeaked the robot, steam hissing magnificently through its splendid copper tubing. 


It did not exactly turn, for it was almost perfectly conical. Instead, it started scuttling off on its stubby legs, out of the plane and through the snow. 


"Nice knowing you!" waved Arna, turning to the Black Knight. "Should we follow it? Easy enough in the snow, although even light snow will smooth over the trail after an hour or so. Its just we have these two..." she pointed to the groaning pilot with the snapped ankle, and the unconscious one with the head gash. 

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He watched with slight bemusement as the robot clanked away slowly and ponderously before turning to face Arna.


"I'm not sure..." he began as he weighed up the situation in his mind "what if it like, drops into the ocean and starts walking along the floor back to whereever its base is? I'm not too hot at navigating so i'd probably be lost on how to get back here..." he reasoned to himself "the pilots are most likely in clear for now..but transporting them would be very difficult."


"that said at the moment our plan is to sit here, eat peanuts and wait for rescue that we don't know is coming..." pulling the compass out of his void scabbard and giving it to her "you're better with these than me how about i go make us a makeshift sled, load up those pilots and try our luck with the robot? worse comes to worst we come back and figure out a new plan?"

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A moderate time later,


The trudge through the snow and ice was a mixture of unpleasant cold and cold beauty. Distant, cold beauty. The northern lights glowed green in the sky, and the air, whilst cold was crystal clear. 


Following the tracks was not hard. Keeping up pace was a little more tricky. The sledge was certainly functional, thanks to Arna's know how and the might sword of the Black Knight set to work on the plane wreckage. But it was carrying two men, plus supplied. Including salted peanuts. 


An hour, maybe two, of trekking and the coast started to come into view. A frozen ocean. They must be in the northern part of Greenland, truly arctic. Arna was doing ok in the cold; she knew how to survive - at least for now. The two pilots were not doing so well, being relatively inactive. Shivering and pale. 


In the ice beyond the coast, a giant ship could be seen, alongside many men cutting and hacking at the ice around it. The robot pepperpot was making a beeline for the ship - which seemed to be stuck in the ice. 


"It's an ice breaker...but it's stuck..." explained Arna, confused. "This is strange weather, even for Greenland...."

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