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"strange for natural weather perhaps, this is an earth, different from ours but perhaps the same in some ways.." he responded to her statement "but lets not look a gifthorse too closely in the mouth...i can probably help em out with that little blockage of theirs maybe we can convince them to give us a ride to civilization?"

 

though his visor hid it well he was looking at arna with concern, she was his light and happiness in this otherwise dark and miserable destiny the sword had frogmarched him into with its prophecy and its antideluvian ideals, the thought of loosing her was unbearable so much so that he'd not feared for himself in the slightest, the sword had made no bones about letting him know that he was most likely not going to have a peaceful death in old age or the like but to be brutalized and murdered by the assembled might of his archenemy's generals.

 

though the pilots were innocent people and he would've very much like to have protect and save them knew he'd have no trouble abandoning them both if it meant saving Arna or sacrificing himself to save them all.

 

this combined with the pseudomystic eugenics his family had been subjected too for generations made the cold easier to bare for him than the others, it was the reason he'd grown so tall and strong in such few years and could freely weild aldonite in a single hand where a less mighty being would've needed two.

 

ambling down towards the assorted workmen, positioned to shield them and arna from the worst of the wind he made his way towards the busily working crew sword sheathed in the void scabbard along with some of the supplies he'd elected to take with him.

 

"Well Met Travellers!" he booms in his faux knightly voice with a cadence of valor and good humor that spilled form him with effortless ease of years of practise. "I see you have become mired in the ice much as we have found ourselves stranded...perhaps we can be of aid to one another?"

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GM

 

The sailors (for sailors they were, by and large) stopped hacking and picking as the Black Night and his motley crew of ijured and girlfriend passed. They seemed to be making reasonable headway. But the ice was thick and extended far. 

 

A grizzly short man, with flesh packed hard on heavy bones, and a bushy grey beard approached them. His eyes were sharp, his head was bald, and he had that kind of build where muscle and fat were vying for dominance. In his case, however, muscle seemed to be winning, and even his fat had a kind of robust solidness to it. 

 

"Captain Voss" he said, gruffly but with a smile on his face. He offered a heavily calloused hand. His grip was that of a seasoned sailor (in other words, like a vice). 

 

"We could certainly do with the help" he said, somewhat sour. "We were meant to break through this to reach...well, I don't know what. Some kind of pur-lace of sy-en-tiff-ic h'in-terrest" he said, sarcastically. He was not a learned man, although he must have been a capable one to captain such an enormous ship. Or perhaps heritage and / or money had given him his post. 

 

"Our damn titan-chisel got bust the first day..." he muttered, pointing to a machine the size of a van, with snow tracks and a massive chisel on its front that was bigger than the Black Knight. In other words, it was very big. 

 

"So its going slow by hand" he conceded. 

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Taking the captains hand with his own steel clad he shook firmly but with the restraint of a gentleman "I see captain, if you'd be willing to take my party onboard I'd be more than happy to lend what help i can."

 

"whilst i have you sir, might you tell me more about this contraption?" he asks pointing with a hand at the pepperpot robot waddling furiously through the ice and snow "We encountered it in the wilderness and at my significant other's suggestion followed it here hoping it might lead us to civilization."

Edited by Exaccus
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GM

 

"That thing?" sighed the captain. "That will be Lord Crane"

 

"Lord Stiffassmumbled a sailor, to a general chorus of content. 

 

"That's enough of that lads!" Captain Voss said, most firm of voice. "Lord Crane, our benefactor. It was his Lordship who financed this mission. Brought a couple of steam-powered automatons with him. Stupid pepperpots. Whistling and spinning and going on about anomaly this and anomaly that. Apparently they have some kind of compass towards the area of interest" he said, scratching his bald head. 

 

"Don't know how you found it though. I though most of them were onboard, getting prepared for the expedition. If we ever reach it" he said, pointing at a distant mountain ridge. 

 

"At least our damn provisions are high. And we have a doctor, strange fellow, but a doctor who can tend to your wounded" he said, more pleasantly. "Although I would like to hear your tale in full over some tea and maybe a drop of brandy" he offered. 

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"that'd be most agreeable captain." he says politely suddenly feeling a little bit sheepish about attempting to cajole aid out of someone who seemed only to glad to offer it anyways but he wouldn't let that break his stride, it was afterall only fair to offer something in exchange for assistance wasn't it?

 

He stifled an amused snort at the colourful opinions of the men around him at the mention of the seemingly unpopular benefactor, something to look into surely, especially if these robots were drawn to "anomalies." like the one that had presumably drawn him and his flight into the world.

 

"Once our injured are tended to and my lady has settled into whatever quarters you can provide us i will make good on my promise to render what aid i can."

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GM

 

A goodly few minutes later...

 

...the Ship's Mess...

 

Arna took the two pilots to the Ships infirmary and was given a guests quarters. Mainly steel; bleak but comfortable enough. Captain Voss took the Black Knight to the ships Mess for some hot food; soup of some brown variety that was palatable but greasy. Full of nutritious stuff, said the Captain, wolfing his own down. He did not elaborate on what the "stuff" was. Meat of some kind, presumably. 

 

Tea was served, and of most excellent flavour. Whatever else this world did, its tea was finer than anything on the Earth the Black Knight knew. 

 

"Now its a good ten miles to the expedition site. And half of that through frozen waters. Lord Crane and his scientist - a lady would you have it, Professor Littlefield - they have some equipment they want to take. But looks to me they might have to set out on foot. And in any case, the ship has to turn around and get back to land. Whatever way we do it, its a bad stroke of fortune. One we shall endure I am sure. Leastways, as long as it doesn't get any colder..."

 

It was warm enough on the ship. Copper pipes full of steam radiated a pleasant heat. 

 

"Now whats your story, my friend? Not many Englishmen come to Greenland..."

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taking his time to admire the tea as was his long forgotten prerogative as an Englishman he took time to form a story within his head as he rested on the mess bench "my compliments to the chef." he said over his shoulder in the general direction of the kitchens "and the brewer." he added before finishing his cup.

 

"it is a long story I and my party were travelling when some sort of disturbance landed us in the middle of Greenland's wilderness, we were headed for the capital at the time, whatever it was inflicted the injuries you see on our two friends as an after effect." he mentions "and your lord cranes automaton seemingly appeared from nowhere, popping out of the ether like a copper plated mushroom much to my confusion."  he didn't feel the need to reveal that he wasn't technically of this world as of yet, it seemed like one of those things that went against "the prime directive " he assumed was in effect for contact with other worlds.

 

"luckily we were able to make some use of our craft to form the sled and follow in its wake before the ravages of the weather grew dire; it is unseasonably cold for Greenland by partner informs me; perhaps that and our predicaments are a result of the anomaly?" he offered, not an educated man himself by any means "You know what they say, once is happen-stance, twice is coincidence but three time..."

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GM

 

Captain Voss stroked his beard. "Your words ring true. And it is cold. Perhaps this anomaly is the root of our problems"

 

He mulled over the situation, arms folded, rocking his chair. 

 

"Whatever Lord Crane and the Professor have cooked up, whatever they pay. My first priority as the Ships captain is the safety of the crew. Damn Crane, if it wasn't for his father I would..."

 

His ears were sharp. He cut off his voice as he heard footsteps. 

 

Lord Crane himself. A tall, slender man, well over six foot, thin but firm. He had prematurely grey hair, flowing long, and a regal air. Black dark eyes, and a contemptuous nose. He liked to stand over people literally and figuratively. 

 

His cloth, whilst clearly elegant, was also functional. A deep purple trenchcoat of died leather, and with warm clothing underneath. The Black Knight could spy some gun-like bulges under the trenchcoat, either side of a thick leather belt. 

 

"Your Lordship" bowed the Captain. 

 

"And who do we have here then?" said the Lord, coldly. "Another survivor? I spied a most delightful young lady come aboard a little earlier. I must attend to her later. Can't have your butcher doctor get his hand on her, hahahaha" he said, with only a trace of mirth. 

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Jonathan felt the revulsion towards this "lord crane" hit him immediately as he entered the room and began speaking, he felt his muscles tense as he objectified his beloved arnasaq, in any other situation he would've sprung to his feet and thundered at him, even now he could feel aldonite straining against the void scabbard as it so often did when it knew that the worst place for it to be at any given moment was in his hands...but this was much different to that, it felt like rather than pressing it was being pulled, pulled from outside of the diminutive dimension in which it rested.

 

"Indeed, my partner is the most beautiful woman in the world is she not?" he said as he rose to his full height, heavy armour thudding against the floor of room with a little more emphasis than before but he none the less kept his cool.

 

"it's a pleasure to me you Lord Crane." giving only the slightest bow of his armoured head to avoid making trouble for the captain "I am indeed one of the stranded that the good captain has welcomed aboard, I will be putting my back into freeing the vessel from the ice now i have had some food and drink to fill my arm with strength anew." he said as edgelessly as he could manage as his flexed his sinew, making the leather straps that held his armour to him creak and squeak with the strain of his muscle mass.

 

"if you'll excuse me, I'd like to attend to my partner for a moment and then I will meet you out on the ice gentlemen."

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GM

 

Lord Crane gave a smile and a bow. "Delighted to hear it, my friend" he said, giving a pat on Jon's shoulder. Captain Voss kept his head down, pretending not to attend to or notice the tension between the two men. 

 

A couple of minutes later...

 

...the Ship Infirmary

 

Doctor Root was a thin, hunched man and not tall either. It looked like his limbs would snap like twigs if the wind blew too hard. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull with feverish intelligence and energy. Whilst his bedside manner was surely lacking, his ability was not. 

 

"Ah yes, this lovely young lady is quite fine, quite fine. Resilient even!" he smiled at Jon, looking up from examining her mouth. "Wonderful set of molars if I may say so! Ah yes! Well, the ships doctor has to double up as dentist, ah yes!" he said with a sad smile. 

 

Despite his fussing, Jon did not get the impression that Doctor Root was in any way of amorous intent. He just seemed to find the human body fascinating without any hint of lust spicing up that fascination. 

 

"Yeah I'm fine, I'm fine" said Arnaq who felt uncomfortable - but not scared or disgusted - by Doctor Root's examination. He was like a vexatious mosquito that one wanted to swat away as he poked and prodded. Irritating, not not intrusive. 

 

"And so's my boyfriend" she added, rolling her eyes at Jon. "No need to examine him..."

 

"Are you suurrrrreee?" replied Root, his tongue rolling and his eyes scanning Jon's body, every square inch scrutinised for sign of some mundane or (ideally) obscure pathology. 

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He was somewhat relieved to find that the doctor was little more than a passionate proffessional, that boded well for the pilots to be sure, even if it was making Arna a little uncomfortable "I am fine, doctor root, thank you for your concern and for looking after my girlfriend and our injured accomplices for me." with a friendly shake of his hand.

 

"I'm glad to hear you're ok Arna, Im sorry i panic so much about that but i can't help it."  he said, waiting until he believed the kindly old doctor had moved out of earshot "I'm not a normal person Arna, i don't know what it's like to be one so i just worry that whats no big deal for me is maybe quite a big deal for you and other people." he explained quietly as he takes a seat next to her.

 

"Speaking of people, keep an eye out for that lord crane guy, he's a jerk, said he was going to come and "Attend" to you." it wasn't arna he didn't trust, from what little he had seen he could tell that whilst this place was similar in technological matters, social and culturally it seemd to have hit a roadblock so with that in mind he summoned the multitool from his void scabbard and holding her hand for a little bit longer followed by placing it in her palm "Just incase...they seem to have some pretty old fashioned ideas."

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GM

 

"Antiquated, yes. Not all bad" said Arna, charitably. She was a charitable person. She didn't take the multitool with joy, but she did not refuse it either. "I'm not sure this will help, but thank's all the same" she said, kindly. "And I wouldn't want to be with somebody normal" she added, with both kindness and love. 

 

Lord Crane had moved, silently, into view, and gave a clap. 

 

"Aha! True love it seems. How splendid" he said, with a smile that, whilst superficially genuine, seemed to evaporate from his face as soon as it had formed. 

 

"But now to more serious matters. I have an expedition to lead and I would do it sooner rather than later, and now rather than sooner. And that means every man woman and beast picking at the ice" he said, firmly, to both of them. 

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"Ah so you will be joining us then?" he stated with a calm cool confidence as he rose to his full height and strode past him and out of the room "Ill see you out there then sir ." not giving the pompus and sneaky man before him a chance to speak or retort as he stode confidently out of the room with Arna "Best get there lickty split sir, lest i leave no work for you." he called over his shoulder as he  pulled the hilt of aldonite free from its dimensional demense.

 

It would be a short and simple matter for him to bring the swords ruinous power against the ice he wagered, given that it wasn't supernatural in itself but rather a result of supernatural conditions.

 

it would be simply a matter of driving aldonite iron blade into the ice before him and letting the terrific arcane energies run rampant from their contines, power great enough that it had dissolved steel, sundered stone and split a mountain to its core, no uppity ice could stand before it..

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GM

 

Crane had a slight coolness to his face. "I will" he answered. Possibly he would have anyway. Possibly he seethed at being goaded into doing it. Whatever his feelings, he had at least some mastery over them. But the air got a little frosty. 

 

Outside, it was frostier still. Arna had joined them. She was tall and reasonably fit, and did her part, but compared to the grit of the hardened sailors, she was less effective. They kept going, hammer and tong, at the ice. 

 

Crane was also tall, and had a kind of wiry strength and steel determination to him, swinging a pickaxe with fierce abandon. 

 

"So, what you want?" said Voss, taking a break from the work. The sailors were working in shifts, sharing tools and stopping for tea and salted meats (mainly fish). He offered the Black Knight a hammer or a pickaxe. But he did give an appraising eye on the mighty sword of the Black Knight. 

 

"Something Industrial Strength?" he ventured. 

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"thank you captain but i have brought my own." he said with a grin hidden by his visor as he turned slightly to give a gesture of acknowledgement to crane and Arna  as he rolled the sword from its resting position and into his hand "I know it looks a little bit silly all things given but it may surprise you."  and with that he drove his sword into the heart of the ice before the vessal overcomming  the compacted crystaline structure with sheer brute force and mystically reinforced iron at the front of 200 pounds of muscular strength.

 

sliding in with a clean smooth scraping sound much like it any sword might've made when pulled from a form fitting scabbard, a satisfying sound of metal crisply ringing with an almost harmonic hum.

 

once he was fairly certain the entirety of the blade was concealed within the ice he allowed the corrosive black power within to rage freely from its confines, racing through the naturally occurring fractures and facets of the frozen mass and sheering it along them as it whirled through the mass of ice. with a keening screech, one he was certain that the effect had fully taken hold it was a simple matter of levering the hilt a little to knock it free of its delicate balance and send the massl of ice crashing down into the waters below. as a rain of random chunks.

 

"It's all the wrist."

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GM

 

The splintering of ice raised a cheer of surprise and even shock. But the mood was good. 

 

"Hurrah!"

 

"Three cheers for the Stranger!"

 

"Hip hip! Hooray!"

 

"Hip hip! Hooray!"

 

"Hip hip!.."

 

"Hooray" finished Lord Crane, giving a clap just slightly too slowly. He was giving the Black Knight a scrutinising, analytical stare. And his gaze was doubled in study when it came to the sword. 

 

The ice around them was starting to splinter and soon the ship and those around them would be in icy cold sea. 

 

"Back to the ship, Lads! our jobs done!" called out Captain Voss. And he was right to call out this order, for the splintered ice started splintering more and more quickly, and soon there was a scrabble to get back on board. 

 

But get back on board they did, and the great Ice breaker could now do its job; cutting a path to the mountain. "Shouldn't be more than an hour or so!" said the rather pleased Captain Voss. 

 

Lord Crane loomed, a painted smile on his face. "Excellent! Well done everybody. And you, my friend, must tell me about that splendid sword! Lets have some tea!"

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"im certain i can accommodate you my lord." though his thin veneer of pleasantness was so finely stretched it was all but transparent even to him he had won himself some measure of respect for appearing out there on the ice and working along side people, goaded or not "perhaps you might introduce me to that proffessor i have heard so much about,?" he offered in return as he banished the sword back into its scabbard "Forgive me, for the suddenness of that, it gets...tempermental when drawn."

 

he explains  as he leans brushes the snow from his armour with a scraping gauntlent it did not matter much to him but he felt it would be better than allowing it to melt and drip through to his clothes beneath if he could avoid it, he really didn't want to take off his armour any time soon, his instincts were screaming at him along the odd pull on the sword from somewthing that felt like it was where the ship was pointing.

 

"Do you mind if i bring My beloved? its a good chance for you and her to get properly antiquated and im sure she'll be glad of the company." 

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GM

 

"But of course!" answered Lord Crane, quite happy of the company and the propositions. 

 

And so...

 

Over tea (with an optional drop of brandy for medicinal purposes) Lord Crane introduced them (in his rather fancy quarters, decorated, it seemed by a Giraffe-skin rug in its centre) to the Professor Littlefield. 

 

She was an elderly lady, made of rust and grey hair. Determined and intelligent. Whereas Lord Crane was cool but sociable, the Professor was merely stiff, adopting a regimented politeness that seemed to come out of an internal head manual than any understanding, or perhaps care, of human social habits. 

 

The Captain was away piloting the ship, despite invitation. This was a duty he could not miss. As the only other apparent man of learning on the ship, Doctor Reed had been invited, his boggling eyes swivelling this way and that in studious trance. 

 

The Professor only really became animated when it came to the geology of Greenland. And only Arna was really able to grasp it; she had a working knowledge of Greenlands geography, and much more ability to communicate the concepts. Lord Crane seemed to understand; whilst he had not the expertise of the Professor, he had it seemed studied and planned for this expedition ever since...

 

Well, as Arna put it:

 

"So, Professor, you are saying that this meteor landed a month ago? And has been causing magnetic anomalies ever since? And the local weather systems are getting more chaotic?" she asked; arguably so that her boyfriend could cut through her technical scientific speech. 

 

As the Professor tried once again to make the straightforward complex with Arna, Lord Crane turned to Jon. 

 

"Now then, my good Sir, please do tell me about where you got that magnificent sword!"

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"Truth be told, Sir, It is an heirloom of my house, passed down for generations to the eldest male of the main family, there are branches you see." he explains "Fail safes apparently against the sword's power being undone; though the tale of its origins are fantastical as anything" he says leaning in a little more as he enjoys his tea.

 

"It is said that the sword was created during the time of Camelot in the mythic era of Albion for one of the knights of King Arthur's round table." he allows a moment for this to sink in and gauge the reaction as he enjoys his tea.

 

"We Cannot For certain say which, though the prevailing stories are either Lancelot due to the blades name, Aldonite being similar to Arondite, the sword he used to murder his companions when he was driven mad or perhaps Mordred whom slew his father with this self same sword, though one thing both agree on is it was forged by his mother, Morgan Le Fey, be it to drive Lancelot from Arthur's service or grant her son a weapon to rival Excalibur."

 

"I'd invite you to look at and wield it but it has something of a vicious temperament and the magic is bound to the eldest male child of our blood with a preference for the direct descendants of its original wielder."

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GM

 

Lord Crane took it all in, nodding in an attentive way. "Yes, yes. The ancient myths. I happen to believe at least a slice of them are true" he said, without observable deceit. "I am a student of such things. Africa, Hong Kong, India" he said, more airily. "I have been from one end of the Empire to the other and seen much that science cannot explain. And wond'rous art and customs" he said, almost lost in his own musings. 

 

"I can believe it would bit my hand off!" he concluded, not daring to venture to touch the sword, or, it seemed, Jon. 

 

"For I have noted many myths around such heirlooms and antiquities; that they are built for purpose, or have some intent poured in them? To raise the rightful king, or to depose the wrong one. To build a kingdom, or ruin one. To maintain the law, or engender anarchy!"

 

He paused, scrutinising Jon again. 

 

"And what do you say the purpose and intent of your sword is?"

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"Well, we believe that it was created to in some way thwart the return of beings known as Fomorians from their prison." he says simply "that somehow camelot and arthur were being duped into assisting in their escape and as such became victims of the tragedies that collapsed the kingdom, one or many of which may have been due to the swords original wielder"

 

It was always difficult to admit that fact "Though largely it leaves the means and methods up to the individual wielders some speculate that it may have been both Lancelot and Mordred whom held the sword in succession, Lancelot attempting to destabilize Arthur's power-base and his efforts in unwittingly freeing the creatures; upon failing and the sword passing, Mordred took Arthur's life to keep the fomorians under lock and key whilst also serving his mother's interests."

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GM

 

"It is a brutal weapon then" conceded Lord Crane, almost admiringly. "It was conceived for a purpose, and the road to that purpose matters not, so long as it is trod..."

 

"And it is dangerous" he added, a hint of the bleak in his voice. 

 

Before he could contemplate further, there was a crunching sound. The ship had hit ice again. But this time, it was but a few miles from the destination. 

 

A moment later...on deck....

 

"So, we are here!" proclaimed Lord Crane. They were nearly at the mountain now. "Yonder, our prize! The meteor!"

 

Captain Voss grumbled about how his compass and anything magnetic was going crazy. 

 

"Yes yes, never mind that" said Crane, waving his hand. "We shall have to make do with the sky and the land as our directions. Let us set off! Huskies, sleds, provisions...you know the drill!" he said boldly, sending a few sailors scurrying off to assemble the mission. 

 

This close, Jon could feel the sword tugging at him...at the meteor site...at the meteor...something was in the stone...

 

Excalibur?

 

 

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There were many reactions he might've had, to the swords unease he could panic impotently about what might follow, he could've tried to disuade crane from his quest towards the sword that waited in the meteorite ready to work its wickedness on the world or try to convince the captain to refuse and listen to his instincts about this voyage he'd been strong armed into by social expectations and political demands.

 

It would've been in vain however all of it, he'd been here before and he knew when destiny had taken the wheel and right now, destiny had taken the wheel, the rudder and the sails, all he could do was go for the ride and try to affect the outcome when he came to the fulcrum of it all.

 

with an exhausted sigh he set off to help prepare for the expedition and his destiny.

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GM

 

And so...

 

Across the ice, under dark skies and falling snow, came the bold expedition. It was boldly led by the bold Lord Crane, in flapping trenchcoat and long flowing grey hair. A veteran of many an expedition, he was confident. He perhaps whipped the huskies a little more hard than was strictly necessary, but he was not a brute. Or at least, there were far worse brutes, and many of them, in the many worlds. 

 

Arna had insisted on coming. And with her, Professor Littlefield, a small, almost withered lady of vast academic experience. She said little and saw everything. Her face grim determination. She had a bull head, and it seemed she had needed to have one to plough through the incomplete but very present gender bias in the world of academia. 

 

With them, four Sailors, hard and worn. Lead by a Mister Crowbolt, Esq...a naval man, strong as an ox and with the apparent manners of one. 

 

All pulled along sleds; for now, by several huskies. And it so happened that Mr. Hale Esq was sat next to Mr. Crowbolt, Esq. 

 

Mr. Crowbolt was not a smart man, but he was dedicated, loyal, efficient and experienced. He had taken to grumbling mightily about the cold, Lord Crane, and Professor Littlefield. He spare a little bile for Arna, although he confessed to admiration of her beauty and fancied himself a new tattoo on part of the body that would not be seen in polite society. 

 

Mr. Crowbolt did not sound like he much fancied for polite society. Quite the other type, it seemed. 

 

"Lord Crane is stuck up his own backside, I reckons. Pays well, but flies round the world on Zepplins, stealing whatever them there gold and silver he can from tombs. And that's not all. Learned himself Voodoo from Africa, so said. Got the shrunken heads of his parents in his pockets, so said. Got himself blessed by some Jap priest, and got his heart replaced by a Bull's thanks to some Russian Shaman..."

 

He babbled on, surely most of it pure nonsense. But truth or rumour, Mr. Crowbolt seemed to know a lot about Lord Crane. 

 

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Though normally it would've aroused his ire to hear someone talking about Arna like that he felt utterly spent with the crash and all the physical hardships that had followed not to mention the leaden weight of destiny as it manifested over his head so he quietly listened and nodded his head here and there in agreement as he listened.

 

He didn't feel like talking, he didn't care if lord crane had his heart replaced with his mothers shrunken head or if his father was a bull or about any of it, right now he was racing quickly head long towards his arch-enemy's greatest symbol in this world and any other mournful at the act he may yet be forced to commit, sickened with worry for Arna having to bare witness and frightened that he had grown much to rusty in his period of inactivity to actually stand a chance against the Arthur that the sword and no doubt already found.

 

he took his comfort where he could find it, namely in Arnasaq and the brisk chill of the Arctic air; regardless of what happened next, it had been one of those days and beyond any doubt it was going to end like one of those days.

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