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Clippers are relatively new inventions and while you’ve never claimed to be a navel expert other than what is required of your position you’re pretty sure they’re demontech. Though you know now more than ever that Earth isn’t exactly a world filled with demons. You wonder how long that revelation has been in the dark and how long it will be as you approach the vessel that trades cargo space for speed.
Burly men and women are currently in the process of carrying large crates off the boat and into wagons that are then pulled off the docks. You have to make way for quite a few, receiving little more than nods and “evenin’” from the sailors and dock workers as you approach the vessel. Then as you wait by the ramp a slightly weller-dressed fellow approaches you.
“Permission to board?” You inquire.
“Depends, who might you three be?” The older man says.
“I am Lorina de Lindan and I am here on the half of the Inquisition. These are my colleagues inquisitor Asher and inquisitor-in-training Marie. We have permission from the marquess to investigate any of his vessels we deem fit.”
“Oi, oi! None of that needed Your Highness, welcome aboard the Duchess,” Like most he’s rather accommodating once your status is shown, “First mate Clyde at your service, lemme take ya to the capt. Though was this all about if I may ask?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” Asher says.
“It’s about that fort, yea?”
Marie hums in affirmation.
“The one with all the skeleton.”
“Skeletons?” You ask, undead should be impossible but-
“Don’t think any but the most superstitious of this lot think they’re actual skeletons but their silhouettes sure looked like em if a bit more blocky.”
“Tell us everything you know,” Asher demands.
“Er, it’s not much, mister inquisitor. We tried to steer well past it the two times we did,” He knocks on a door leading to what you suppose is the captain's quarters, “But on the second time there were these strange figures, they weren’t human I can tell ya that much, marching along the metal walls with some strange lookin’ rifle.”
You can hear a “Enter,” from behind the door.
“Think Capt Hal will be able to answer anything youse gotta ask better than me, I’m afraid,” As he says this he opens the door and gestures you all inside.
There, sitting over some papers is about the most stereotypical “crusty seadog” you think you could imagine. Like he leaped out of a novel about hunting a whale and straight into your “story” as Marie might put it using her strange vocabulary. You go over the same song and dance with the captain and end up showing him your documents which causes him to sit back and await your questions with rapt attention. He seems put at ease that you are interested in investigating his cargo or his ship. You understand his sentiment you’d be worried about an investigator in your armory as well.
