First landing

"Haven't seen them, Sir, now or, to my knowledge, ever. Talin Windborne, at your service."

"Vethalia Pixeldust." Veth says with a tip of an imaginary hat. "Pleasure."

Mr Windborne, Miss Pixeldust, welcome aboard. The captain begines but then there is a noice
A sharp clang rings out from the hull—followed by a low grunt, the rattle of cookware, and a muttered, Ach, bluidy ropes…
Then up she comes.

Stocky as a brew barrel and twice as solid, the dwarf lass hauls herself over the rail like a storm on short legs. Her fiery braid’s tied back with a stained scrap of tartan, and her apron looks like it’s seen more battles than some of the Shieldsworn.

She plants herself square in the center of the deck, hands on hips, cleaver hanging at her side like a holy relic.

Right then! she bellows, loud as a kettle drum.
Name’s Brona. I’ll be yer cook, an’ dinnae ye forget it!

She gives the crew a once-over, one thick brow cocked.
Ye hunt it, I’ll skin it, boil it, batter it, fry it, or stuff it in a pie ye’ll dream aboot fer weeks. I cook tae keep yer bones movin’ an’ yer bellies singin’. Ye’ll eat proper—or I’ll feed ye by force.

Her eyes narrow at one of the sailors still snickering.

An’ if any o’ ye tall twigs fancy yer funnies—just ken this: I dinnae need a ladder tae knock yer teeth in. I’ve got a skillet wi’ yer name on it.

Then she grins wide, wipes her hands on her apron, and calls: Now! Who’s hungry, ye pack o’ wild-eyed beast pokers? Bacons ready!

In a minute Cook! The captain calls. When I'm done with them, I'll send them down in the gally
He looks over his papers. We are docked for the day. If Falka is not here by first light, then we will leave without them.

"I like her." Vethalia says quietly with a grin as she elbows Guesclinbert in the ribs.

"When should I tell her I don't eat meat?" Guesclinbert whispers back. "Also, your elbows are getting bonier." He rubs his side a little, huffily fluffing up his feathers.

"Hopefully her meals include produce and breads," Torrek says quietly. "I have no issue taking your meats in exchange for my other foods. I eat more than most people anyway, so I should have yoo covered my friend. We -- hopefully -- needn't concern her with such trivialities."

"You are going to be one very hungry goblin by the time this is over I think." Vethalia says with a raised eyebrow.

"Also, you're the one who's boney."

Talin smiles at the goblins as he heads up the plank onboard the airship. Once onboard, he looks for the First Mate or whoever seems to be in charge of the sailors to ask where he will be bunking and where to stow his gear.

Daedale steps aboard, boots tapping lightly against the worn deck wood. The spores at his hip rattle with each movement, as if sensing the stir of something vast beneath them. He takes a long moment to study the others already aboard, his gaze unreadable, like moss watching a river flow.

What an adventure to be had, he thinks, fingers brushing the edge of his satchel.

The scent of crisped meat lingers in the air, grounding him. But necessity tugs harder than hunger. He approaches with quiet intent, tone respectful but dry.

"Captain. If Falka has gone missing, would you have us find this Falka for you?"

Vath nods, "Yeah, if you need us to look for him," she scrunches her face, "do you know what he looks like?"

Daedale clicks their teeth softly, a sound not unlike a puffball splitting in the sun. They nod once to the captain, expression unreadable beneath the folds of their hood. As they turn, their shoulders give a slow ripple, the spores at their hip releasing a faint, herbal scent into the air. They move with the quiet certainty of creeping mycelium, making their way to the stern to store their satchel and gear. Once their things are settled, they drift toward the galley, drawn by the warm pull of cooking oil and char.

"Aye, Captain," Torrek replies before heading to the stern with the others, his stride measured as his boots strike the deck. There is an aire of self-assuredness to the Knight's conduct... an aire that lends itself to his companions as well, encouraging them to be just as confident.

Talin stows his limited posessions and stakes out a bunk for himself, top if they're stacked and one is available. Then he joins those who seek out Brona and what smells like a tasty meal.

"Seems like a sturdy vessel with a lean crew. Let's hope it's lean because the last lot got rich and moved on."

Vethalia grins and claps her hands, "Yay! Flying ship cabin."

Taking her locker in hand the diminutive goblin woman heads to her cabin so she can decorate and settle in.

After eating, Talin takes a wander of the ship to commit it's shapes to memory. He studies the play of light and shadow and notes where any equipment, including weapons, are stored.

After the meal, Daedale meanders back through the ship’s creaking halls with no real stealth, just a kind of slow inevitability, like moss reclaiming stone. They stop near Vethanlia’s bunk , hovering without shame. Not so much intruding as… settling. They kneel beside a crate, flipping open their journal with a practiced flick, the scratch of ink still drying from earlier notes.

"Veth. When you work magic, do you feel it pull from inside you, or do you think it’s answering something already in the world? Like pollen drifting toward a bloom. Do you will it or witness it?"

They don’t blink, waiting, clearly expecting her to answer like this is the most natural conversation to have at the edge of someone’s bed.

"The magics of the Aether are all around us," Athaziel replies to Daedale, "most cannot see or interact with the forces of the Aether. I can reach, out pull on those strings, channel the energies of the universe through thing."

The goblins eyes sparkle as she speaks clearly excited at the topic as she pulls a card labeled "The Sun" from her sleeve and it begins to glow with power.