Eyes Without A Face

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Grace Gearhorn 1/6/2019 10:58pm

The sonar is depicting a curious scene.

We're on our way to this "Aw-stray-lee-uh" to deliver the Haunted Dolls retrieved by Junior Navigator Claira. It's a very strange and faraway land, seldom visited by Deep Murk sailors like us, and the route is taking us through some uncharted regions of Floodspace.

There's so much we still don't know about Floodspace... what it's made of, what causes the waves and currents within it....But we know that Floodspace is wet. We know there are islands of sweet sweet air and dry land encased within it, and we know that the Murk Monsters swim the depths between.

"Those don't look like Murk Monsters to me, number three"

"No mam."

We gather round the green screen to watch the pings.

"It's... an enormous structure... completing filling the scan zone. And what are those triangular formations? So regular... evenly spaced..."

"Mam, they're moving."

"They're closing! It's a trap! THEY'RE JAWS! Full speed ahead ensign!"

"Ahead? But mam, that course will take us..."

"Inside, ensign. It's the only way to avoid being crushed by those giant--"


Claira 12/4/2018 4:49pm

I would like to formally apologise for my misrepresentation of distances in my previous log entry. My homeland was ruled by a corrupt theocracy in which all measurements of distances were transposed into our system. Old habits are difficult to override, however, I will surely make up for this in future.

I am, however, happy to report a successful retrieval mission. Though the dolls were covered by a thick layer of hydrophobic tar (odd to see around these parts, I know), a little contained green-flame cleared it out in no time. All four dolls luckily seem to date back to the specified timeframe, however one will need to be discarded due to it being mostly deteriorated and inhabited by a small creature I could not identify. I will leave a short description of it below so you may attempt to.

small, black, furry and vaguely bovine. three small horns, two yellow-green eyes that seemed to produce their own light? Five cloven legs and a short tail which is seemingly the only place on the creature other than the eyes and feet not covered in fur.

Grace Gearhorn 12/3/2018 11:23pm

It's a rookie mistake to confuse "nautical miles" for "miles," but it's a whole new level of rookie mistake to fail to make the conversion when you're traveling through Floodspace... in which case miles can mean light years, depending on how you navigate the swirls and eddies of the Murk Sea, the deep dark depths between the Island Earths. Also "west" becomes problematic in terms of the accretion disc and the leeward spin of the extra-planetary plankton swells... but, after thoroughly and good-naturedly I might add razzing our new recruit, we did stake orbit around the dismal little planetoid they had charted.

Now we await the results of Claira and the away team on the surface. Will they locate the dolls without incident? They've taken the landing bathysphere down through the muck, and have likely broken atmosphere by now... perhaps I can tune them in on the shortwave..... zzzzzzz... buzzzzz... scrich!!!!

Claira 11/29/2018 4:39pm

I've heard that there is an old well 13 miles due west from our current coordinates that contains four sufficiently haunted Victorian era dolls. I reckon picking this up for the shipment is the best option. The client should be pleased.

Islardsavi 11/26/2018 8:57am

I accept even though I have no idea what this job is.

Grace Gearhorn 11/23/2018 8:53pm

There's an old Floodspace sailor's ritual, where the newest crew member brings along a new job. In this case, we're on the hunt for old dolls, haunted or unhaunted. Hopefully Junior Navigator Claira has a clue about which direction to point us through the Islands in the Sky, keep us clear of the Murk Monsters, and take us safely through the Floodspace, Mazu be praised.

Aqua Vitae Inc. - 11/17/2018 3:18pm

Job claimed by Islardsavi 2018-11-26 08:57:17

Looking for a ship with a 35,000 gallon capacity for delivery of the Water of Life from our extraction facility in Menemquiz to our disruption facility in Knockaknocka. We will also need a return run 35,000 gallons of the Water of Life from our extraction facility in Knockaknocka to our distribution facility in Menemquiz.
Payment is 500 gallons of the Water of Life.

Claira 10/23/2018 12:19am

I am writing to formally accept the job upon the airship 'Eyes Without A Face'.
This is a very exciting opportunity for me, and I hope I can add something new to the crew.


Claira Challinor - 10/22/2018 7:30pm

Job claimed by Claira 2018-10-23 00:19:16

I need some dolls from the Victorian era, Edwardian is acceptable but not ideal. I would like at least three, and will accept up to seven.

Haunted or unhaunted, doesn't matter.

Please drop them by one of the two oak trees behind 11 Southern road, Mentone, Victoria, Australia.

Thank you for your business.
I will be waiting.

Grace Gearhorn 10/19/2018 10:14pm

“Pings ninety thousand clicks and closing, mam.”

“Steady as she goes, Ms. Mate.”

Everybody’s heard of the Murk Monsters. Since the time we were little. The idea that enormous, slimy intelligences haunt the Murk between the islands and the island stars has been used as an existential threat to children everywhere for millennia, taking root in our oldest myths and bedtime stories. But never in actual recorded history has an island been attacked, and when you run across the Monsters in the Murk they’re always more scared of you than you are of them.

“Thirty three thousand clicks, your honor.”

“Keep it steady, Mr. Fruitybumps. And call me Gene.”

They might not be terribly aggressive, but it is true they are enormous.

“Alrighty, number one, let’s light her up with the LIDAR. Full sensor sweeps, don’t forget to correct for the gravitational refraction. We don’t want to have trash another dataset.”

“Yes sir. Jeesh.”

Even at this distance, the individual Murk Monsters are truly enormous. The screen quickly becomes full of a constellation of points, which becomes a connect the dots of green lines, then wireframes. Looks like we’ve encountered a small family group. Or whatever they call their little herds.

“Look at that serrated tentacle. That one must be Flossie!”

“Leave the identification to the eggheads in exo, sailor. Just take the readings and keep moving. Not too close though—don’t want to scare them off.”

I’ve seen Island moons smaller than these guys.

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