Axion's Magical Steampunk Adventure

[Rukatin]

Rolling with this and making a thread for it.

[Rukatin]

The first thing Axion remarked upon when he came to consciousness was what the hell he had been doing last night to receive the migraine pounding at his skull. Licking his dry lips with a equally dry tongue, he struggled to open his eyes as he shifted on the surprisingly uncomfortable bed. Rolling over and sitting up, Axion blearily cracked open his eyelids and rubbed them. 'Is this what a hangover feels like?' He sluggishly thought. 'Barely even touched any of that stuff.' Wrinkling his nose, Axion rolled off his back and onto his side, meanwhile swinging his legs around off the bed in on smooth motion. Or it would have, had rolling to his side not taken him to the edge of the bed, and swinging his legs causing him to fall off the unfamiliar bedding. Grunting as he hit the floor, Axion's arms flailed through the air a bit before one hand caught a vibrating tube and barely keeping his head from hitting the floor. Pulling himself up and resting his arms on the short bed, Axion looked up and around to find he could only see vague shadows on windowless walls cast by a dim light emanating from somewhere behind him. Rubbing his eyes some more, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself from the brief moment of panic. 'The hell? This isn't my room, nor my bed. Where am I?' He slapped his cheeks a couple times then vigorously shook his head back and forth in an attempt to banish the sleep from his body. Blinking his eyes several times, Axion's field of vision cleared at little to see that the bed he was resting on was an old cot bolted and chained to the wall.

With the tiredness quickly leaving his body, Axion pulled himself up and inspected himself. He was clothed in a dirty cotton shirt that hung loosely from his thin frame and work pants made for someone with a wider waist and shorter legs. 'These are not my clothes, they look like what a beggar would own.' Axion grimaced and wiggled his toes, and that's when he noticed his feet were touching metal. But instead of being cool, it was warm. In fact, as he breathed he noted the air was slightly hot and humid as well. Axion twisted his head around and started notice more of his unfamiliar surroundings as his vision adjusted to the low light levels.

First thing he picked out was the pipes all around him. They criss-crossed the ceiling and Axion was pretty sure they made up the ceiling itself. Several ran across the walls and disappeared into them or turned upwards to join the many pipes making up the ceiling. Most of them hissed or gurgled, filling the room with a low hum. Occasional groans of metal sounded and one of the large pipes let out a short puff of steam from a bolted seem whenever it happened. Inhaling deeply again, Axion swirled his tongue around his mouth at the rich iron and rust taste. 'Where am I? Some sort of complex?' Axion wondered.

Then looking to his left, He saw something that didn't really answer any of his quickly forming questions, but only made him ask many more.

The forth wall to the small 5-by-10 foot room was a cell door.

Rushing forward off the cot, Axion slammed against the cell door and wrapped his hands around the bars. "Hello? Anybody? Is anyone out there?" He called out, voice carrying his worry, confusion, and mounting levels of panic. Nothing answered him except the ambient sounds of the plumbing around him. Grunting, he pushed and pulled on the door, unsurprisingly finding it to be locked and causing it to clang loudly. Stepping back from the door, Axion panted lightly before trying to slow his breathing again and calm himself down.
"Okay, calm down Axion, panicking won't get you anywhere, you know that. You have no idea where you are or what events happened that put you here. Now you've got to think. Remember how you got here." He started to pace the confined space of his cell, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "Come on. I wouldn't have done anything that would've put me in jail, I mean I have down some pretty...gray things now and then, but I've always been careful about it!" He grunted as the headache returned as he sifted through his memories. First was the fragmented yet happy early childhood memories, back when he still had his parents. Then came the war and his father left and never came back. His mother soon got sick working in the factories, and there wasn't enough money to pay for medicine. The Authorities sent him to a crowded orphanage not soon after. 'I was only 10 at the time...Was it so long ago?' Axion shook his head and returned to his memories. 'I soon ran away from that orphanage, too overcrowded with kids like me. Begging on the streets wasn't much better though, I was lucky George's goons found me hen they did, I was almost dead from starvation.' Axion recalled he wasn't the only kid that George, only a teen himself, took in. But he also remembered that he didn't care. He had a roof over his head and food to eat. It wasn't until a few months later and a sizable group as formed that George started making sure everyone pulled their weight. 'It wasn't all bad, sure George put us to work and we often did things that weren't very legal, but we got fed, we had each other, and we had fun until...'

Axion slapped his cheeks. 'Why am I reminiscing on the past? Lets skip ahead a bit. Okay, I didn't have any solid beats at the moment, so I was doing odd jobs like usual. It was just after the courier job that could've gone a whole lot better that I decided to sign onto an airship as a deckhand. I had signed onto the.... What was the ship's name? Argh! I can't... remember what happened next!' Axion ground his teeth together. 'I can recall everything more or less clearly until that point! So why can I not remember!' In his head he could see the ship's hull, he could see the title, but the letters weren't forming together, like they were blurry or scratched out. Axion pressed his hands against his forehead and concentrated on the memory.

Then with a sudden stab of pain that felt like both an icicle and red-hot fire poker being jabbed through his temple, the darkness of his mind shattered and a vivid image played in his mind's eye.

A crash of thunder and the split-second illumination of lightning revealed not just a storm, but a tempest. A strong gale heaved the ship and the whole deck tilted at a steep angle for a few heart-pounding minutes. He grabbed the railing and hung on for dear life as a barely heard scream sounded in the darkness and he saw a crew member lose his grip and plummet off the side. A strike of lightning briefly showed him a terrible sight. A massive roaring wall of inky black crested by white.
Axion closed his eyes as the squall came down.

Axion opened his eyes to find himself on the floor slumped against the wall. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and as he rubbed them away, his hand came away stained with the blood that dripped from his nose. Getting to his feet and pinching his nose, Axion shuddered. The image, the memory was the most haunting things he had ever seen. And it was still sharp and clear in his mind, thought not to the affect of seeing it for the first time.

Axion sat on the cot again. 'Is that...How I died?'

[Rukatin]

Still reeling from the mental imagery, Axion pinched his nose to stop the bleeding and merely sat there trembling and heaving gulps of air for a few moments. "Okay... Alright, I'm fine. Not dead, still breathing, still thinking. Come on Axion, you're alive now, but that might change because I doubt this is the constable's station." He got up from the cot and started pacing the cell as he talked to himself. "The off chance I'm in a nice place is kept by nice people is small, and George used to say 'never bet on off chances'." Axion walked over metal bar door and inspected it. "Locked, right. Why should I have assumed otherwise? I just need a pair of lock picks, but I kept my hidden pair in my clothes. And my backups were in my bandanna, and it looks like they took that too." Axion released his nose, wiped his blood stained fingers on his ill-fitting pants, sniffled, made a face of distaste as he ran his fingers through his shaggy light brown hair, and spat out a globule of blood and snot. "Guh, I have some..." He paused as he crouched and peered though the bars. "...Thing or whatever wrong with my memory. And It doesn't feel like I hit my head anywhere...."

Squinting his eyes, Axion searched beyond the cell door. The source of illumination that allowed him to see was a flickering oil lantern sitting on the floor next to an open door several yards down the hallway. He frowned as his eyes traced a dark trail that led from the hallway to somewhere next to his cell. "What is that? It looks like..." His nose dripped a small drop of blood and it fell to the floor with a soft plop. Reflexively Axion looked down at it, and saw that his blood was the same shade against the metal as the stains on the floor. His eyes widened as he realized what the iron taste in the air was.

"Oh shit!" He yelped and scrambled away from the door. "Oh damn, this is bad, very bad!" He started breathing rapidly as he slumped against the back wall. "That is a lot of blood, and no-one could've survived losing that much! By the cursed and blessed winds this is bad!" Axion swore. "I've got to get out of here." His head swiveled around on his shoulders and his eyes darted around rapidly.

Axion ran his hands along and behind pipes filling his cell as he looked for something, anything that could help him. "C'mon! It's not over even if the noose is around your neck, it's over when you're six feet under." He came to the cot and threw off the thin sheet covering the lumpy mattress. Looking around the cot, Axion blinked when he found a hole on the side of the mattress. Slowly reaching into the tear in the fabric that revealed bent springs and tufts of cotton, he moved his hand around then deeper before his fingers came across something. Hand shaking, Axion pulls out several thin shards of metal shaved and filed into lock picks.

Lips spreading up into an shaky grin, Axion kissed the slightly rusty pieces of metal. "Oh I don't know who you are, and I'm sorry you never had the chance to use them, but thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Closing his eyes, and bowing his head, Axion muttered a prayer under his breath. "I don't know if you're alive or dead friend, but may the blessed winds carry you home." Lifting his head with a serious look, Axion exhaled and swallowed the saliva in his mouth.

Crouching next to the cell door, Axion slipped his thin arms between the bars picks in hand. "Let's see if I still have the skill to do this." He said as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth in concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, feeling out the lock with flimsy pieces of metal. Minutes passed, and Axion's breath hitched as he heard a click.

'Was that it?' He hoped. Hesitatingly, he turned the handle from the outside and pushed. He immediately winced as the door made a horrible creaking noise. Opening the door ever-so-slowly, stopping at every creak or groan. Finally opening it up enough to just slip through, Axion breathed a sigh of relief before closing the cell door back up again. "Okay then, You're free from your cell Axion, but you're not out of the woods yet. So now what? You've been lucky so far." He whispered, eyes locking onto the dried bloodstains coming from the open cell next to him.

"...Down this way..." Came a voice echoing down the hallway.

"Fuck!" He hissed. "Damn you luck!"

[Rukatin]

Quickly turning his head back and forth looking for a place to hide, Axion made a small whining noise as his eyes feel upon the closest viable space, the bloodstained cell next to his former one. Looking around for any other place, his decision was made when he heard distant footsteps sounding against the metal floor. Cursing under his breath, Axion dived into the the cell and hid under the cot.

The footsteps came closer and they turned into two distinct pairs of footsteps. The hallway got lighter as they got closer, and someone arrogant sounding spoke. "I don't know what you want with the last guy, he looked like a drowned rat when we found him. Ugh, look at this mess, did that friend of yours really have slice the geezer's throat open the moment you saw him? I mean, this place doesn't show up on the official blueprints anymore, so I can't exactly order a worker to come and clean this up. You're not going to do the same thing with this guy right?" A pair of black boots and blue pants walked into Axion's field of vision, a brighter source of illumination following it. "Ah, who left this lantern here? Probably the guys who disposed of the body. Why didn't they clean up the blood?"

The next pair of footsteps came, and only an embroidered billowing cloak could be seen followed by a feminine voice. "I appreciate your efforts to keep this out of sight. And I apologize upon my master's behalf, senior members are trained to act without hesitation."

"Right, right, you don't have to explain it to me, I'm sure I don't want to know what goes on in your order." The man paused before adding "My lady." In a respective tone.

Axion shrunk into the shadows under the cot and held his breath as they stopped right at the blood-stained cell that he hid in. 'At least I know what happened here. This is some hidden section of some complex? And I was brought here half dead by the guy in this cell? Half dead apparently? I feel fine... Nothing's making sense!'

The woman in the cloak chuckled softly. "You need not call me that Officer Dunwell, merely Inquisitor will do."
Axion's thought process ground to a halt. 'An officer? Military? Am I in some sort of military base? And who's this 'inquisitor', and why does she hold so much respect?'

The Inquisitor turned and walked into the blood-stained cell and Axion cringed when she started turning around, inspecting his hiding place. 'Don't find me don't find me don't find me don't find me don't find me don't find me' Axion repeated the mantra in his head and pressed the against the metal wall that the cot was bolted to. His heart pounded as the fringes of the billowing cloak brushed against the edge of the cot. "Tell me," came a soft alto. "All those other cells, how many other prisoners were there?"

The officer, named Dunwell, paused before answering. "Hmm, about four others or so. The first three that other guy, your master you said? He just passed right by them. The forth he only gave a moment's glance before moving on to the old man. He then opened the geezer's cell door somehow without a key, walked right in and, well, you're standing in the results right now, Miss. I didn't even see him pull the knife."

"I know. It'd be best not to ask questions on what saw Mister Dunwell. But what were the fates of the other four prisoners? And when did our sixth arrive?" The Inquisitor asked. Dunwell made a puzzled sound. "Why would you want to know that?" The Inquisitor responded with a sharp tone. "Answer my question Officer!"

The lantern in Dunwell's hand shook and rattled as Axion saw him take a step back. "Yes! Yes! Well we uh, we couldn't exactly let them live after they saw this place, so we took them to another section not listed on the maps, the old furnaces. We had some rope, made it humane and all, then into the the fire they went. Nothing left."

There was a moment of silence from the Inquisitor, and Axion resisted the urge to shift, to move, to do anything at all as sweat dripped down his body. The Inquisitor whispered something, and Axion strained his ears to make out what she was saying.

"...And may the blessed winds carry your souls home..."

'Huh? Why is she-' Axion's thoughts were cut off by the Officer. "What was that?" The Inquisitor turned and walked out of the cell, and Axion slowly exhaled the breath he was holding. "Nothing of your concern." The mysterious cloaked woman replied. "If you can recall, what did the old man do before his death?"

"Well it was weird. He did nothing." Dunwell replied. "Nothing?" She replied, tone serious. Nervously, the officer hurriedly added on more. "Well, I mean he didn't resist or anything! When the other guy came into his cell, he merely stood up and allowed him to cut his throat! Almost like he was expecting it or something. Who was he anyway?"

The Inquisitor paused for a moment. "For your own safety, hope you never find out. Now, did he have any items on him?"

The officer's lantern rattled slightly, and he spoke. "Yeah, all the prisoner's belongings are in the room at the end of the hall. I didn't know what they all had, and your master went through all of them before he killed the old man. I don't believe he found anything interesting."

"I'll take a look myself later. Now, what I came here for." The woman turned and started walking down the short distance to Axion's cell. "Ah yes," Dunwell's black boots turned to follow her. "Now, I don't know what the deal is with this guy. It was when some of the other soldiers were disposing of the geezer's body that one of them smelled something wet. They searched until they found him laying in the cell he's in right now, soaked to the bone. No-one knows how he got here, and he didn't match the profiling of the guys we brought up here."

"All of the prisoners had a similar description?" the alto voice asked, and the officer grunted in confirmation. "Yeah, word was sent ahead to search our brig for a tall male, with white skin and black hair, and older than 30. The old man barely got out on having mostly white hair, poor bastard."

"You had enough men in your brig to pick out five similar people?" The cloaked woman questioned.

"Well, this place became active only a year and a half ago. Some smugglers still think it's a good idea to try and sneak their airships past us. We hold them here until they're processed. Actually, one of them was an aviator we found spying on the base with a gyro-copter. Anyways, so we put this new guy in some dry clothes we scrounged up and locked him in until the big whigs decided what to do with him. Then you show up, asking for this guy. How did you- Actually, never mind. I don't want to know. He had nothing on him except the clothes he was wearing, so that's with all the other junk if you want to look."

"Thank you Mister Dunwell, you've done me a great service by answering all my questions." The Inquisitor said pleasantly. "You're uh, welcome Miss." He replied, sounding humbled.

"There's just one problem." she stated in a suddenly cross tone.

'Cursed winds' Axion swore mentally.

"And uh, what's that?" the officer asked nervously.

"Well, first, I've noticed that this cell door is unlocked, and slightly ajar. Second, I see that the cell is empty, and that the prisoner is nowhere to be seen." The Inquisitor clucked her tongue, as if it were a minor inconvenience.

Axion didn't need to see his face to know Dunwell's face had paled. There was a loud creak as the door to his cell was swung open. "Oh bollocks, the commander will have my head for this!"

"The bed is still warm, so he must have escaped recently. And you should not be worried about what your superiors will do to you, you should be worried about what I will do to you." The Inquisitor said intimidatingly.

"Oh no. No-no-no-no-no please! Don't-" The panicking soldier was cut off. "Oh cease your blubbering. I am not going to kill you now."

"Y-you're not?" Dunwell asked hopefully.

"No." Replied the mysterious woman. "I need you for I do not know the layout of this place. You do. Now tell me, where would he go?"

The officer's boots came back into Axion's field of vision with quick, jerky movements. "Well I uh, I don't- I don't know the entire area, just the sections that are in good enough condition that...certain activities can be carried out without fear of of the floor collapsing or the ceiling caving in."

Axion cringed at the thought of being impaled by falling pipes. 'why would-'

"Why would the new base be built on top of the old one?" The Inquisitor finished his thought.

Dunwell started walking back down the hallway, sounding like he was regaining his composure. "From what I understand, most of the structural supports were still in usable condition. I think that just because this is the lowest section,  they left it alone when they built on top of it, let it rot and rust and fall off the mountain and into the ocean just to save some money. We're just using the extra space until that happens."

'Mountain? Ocean? Where am I?' Axion wondered, trembling slightly as he started to get cramps.

"This place sounds dangerous for someone who doesn't know where they are going. I need him alive Dunwell. If he dies..." The Inquisitor trailed off in a warning tone.

Axion heard the officer audibly gulp. "R-right, got it."

The billowing cloak passed through Axion's view as the Inquisitor followed the officer. "He might be trying to hide somewhere so keep an eye out. Or he might be trying to find a way to escape.

'She wants me alive. Well that's great.'Axion listened intently as their voices started to fade and echo as they moved further away from where he hid.

"If this place has been abandoned, why do some of these pipes look like they're active?" Axion's hunter asked curiously. Dunwell coughed nervously. "Well some engineers said it's just what's left in these old pipes shifting around from place to place with nowhere to go. But if you're asking for my opinion Miss...It's my turn to say that there's some things you shouldn't figure out."

The Inquisitor snorted. "Fair enough." As their voices started to grow distance Axion exhaled and inhaled, daring to make a sound. "By the way, besides the way we came in,  how many ways out of here are there?"

'Shit Wait! Come back!' Axion dared not move to follow them, so he listened intently for the answer to the question, only catching the end of Dunwell's response. "...Through the old furnaces, and I think by the old docking bay there's a way..." the voices became indistict as the two moved quickly beyond his range of hearing.

Axion remained tense for several minutes until he was reasonably sure they were gone. He then rolled out from under the cot, shuddering as he touched the dried bloodstains. Standing up, Axion arched his back and stretched his limbs, grunting as his body released a rolling set of pops and cracks. Twisting his neck and getting the final kinks out of his body, Axion puffed out his chest as he breathed air into his lungs, then exhaling and relaxing his shoulders. "Okay then..." And with that, the adrenaline fully dissipated from his system.

And that's when the reality of everything crashed down upon him and Axion doubled over as his stomach heaved and bile forced its way up into his mouth. Stumbling into the corner of the cell not decorated with the crimson stains of it's previous inhabitant, he clung to a rattling pipe as he dry heaved what little was in his stomach onto the floor. Staggering back with his stomach empty, Axion spat out the bitter bile in his mouth and rested his hands on his thighs.

"What the fuck have gotten yourself into Axion?"

[Rukatin]

Can anyone think up of a title better than what I currently have?

[Rukatin]

How about 'Blessed and Cursed Winds' ?

[Rukatin]

Done with that section. Read and review!

[Anastasia]

Done with that section. Read and review!

I'll take a look at it tomorrow. Been meaning to.

[Rukatin]

Axion's head swirled as he processed the information he got from eavesdropping. He grunted in discomfort as his stomach rumbled, reminding him of it's now empty state, compounding the sickly ache his whole body had gained. "Just...okay. Don't just stand here now. Think as you go, ask all the fucking questions after you've gotten out of here." He whispered to himself, crouching and peering around the door way of the blood-stained cell. Spying the flickering lantern at the end of the hallway, Axion began sneaking towards it, twitching and jumping at every creak and groan of the dilapidated complex.

'Damn,' Axion thought as a distant clang of something falling caused him to stop and listen hard once more. 'I need to stop doing that, I now understand what George meant when he said I was too paranoid to be properly stealthy. Of course, I didn't know what paranoid meant back then.' Making his to the dim source of light, Axion debated whether or not to take it. '...It'll be very dangerous to go through here in the dark, but carrying a source of light will give away where I am.' Shaking his head, Axion breathed out through his nose before continuing. 'They said they put my clothes in the room at the end of the hallway right?'

Coming to the the intersection the lantern sat on, Axion looked to his left and traced the blood-stains he saw earlier. 'The old man was taken to the furnace room, so that's the way I should go next, but I think that's the direction they went as well. So to the right...?' Axion turned to stare at a wall of jagged metal and sheared pipes coming from a section of collapsed ceiling. '...Nope.' slowly crawling forwards, he came to a metal door on the edge of the circle of light.

"Is this it?" Axion muttered to himself. Licking his lips, he moved up to it and looked it over. "Am I talking to myself when I'm alone again? One of these days something's gonna say say something back..." Taking hold of the door, Axion grunted and heaved and pulled the heavy door open on rusted hinges. "Well, that wasn't loud at all." He added sarcastically. Squinting into the darkness, Axion stepped back and brought the lantern into the room. "Now where are my clothes?" Bringing the lantern up, he shed light on the room and revealed that it was twice as large as the cells, with shelves lining the walls and multiple items filling them.

Setting a lantern on a shelf, Axion searched for a familiar pair of slacks and shirt. Not finding them, he stepped forward and his bare foot stepped on something wet with a squish. Gasping and hopping back on one foot, he blinked and looked down. "Oh. Well this is just my luck." Bending over, he picked up his still wet pants, now torn and frayed beyond repair. Reaching inside them, he felt around for the hidden seem. "Please tell me they're still there..." Fingers catching on something, Axion smiled as he reached in further and pulled out a set of lock picks. "Yes!" Dropping the dripping cloth and opening the leather wrapping, he counted to make sure every brass tool was in its place. Satisfied that they were all there, Axion closed his eyes and sighed.

'Okay, now what?' He wondered. Opening his eyes, Axion started to inspect the items on the shelves. His eyes fell upon a top hat, and he frowned. Curiosity sparked, Axion looked at the items on that shelf. Besides the hat were a neatly folded and stacked set of formal gentleman's clothes with a monocle neatly set on top. A fancy cane rested besides the clothes, and acting on impulse, he picked it up. "Maybe I can use this as-wait." Axion paused and reversed his grip on the cane, grabbing it by the haft instead. Adjusting his grasp and holding in the middle, he opened his hand and let it balance. He smirked as he watch the handle quickly dipped. "The handle's heavier than than it should be." He twirled it around and brought the crook to eye level, inspecting the stylized cane. "A few brass gears stuck on wood wouldn't weight that much. So that usually means that there's a hidden blade on the handle! So it a twist it like this..."

Turning the handle clockwise, the small gears on the handle turned and with a click, it came free of the haft. Lifting the handle, Axion was surprised to see not a blade, but not one, but two barrels. The gears continued to turn, causing two more clicks, with small sections of the the handle to fold inward and allowing for a trigger and a hammer to pop out. Axion stared at the concealed derringer in his hand in shock for a few moments. Hesitatingly he pressed down on the barrel and it resisted for a moment before it snapped open on a hinge hidden the few gears that didn't move. Sitting in the two small barrels were two equally small bullets. With a somber look, Axion took the separated haft and turned it upside down, and out of the hollow portion slid out two more bullets into his palm.

Axion shuddered. "Someone must be sending me Blessed and Cursed winds my way." He gave a single hollow chuckle. "C'mon Axion, if you're lucky, you won't have to use it!" The false smile disappeared as he stared at the gun and slipped into a memory. The memory was of George who was confidently teaching some kids how to survive on the streets the 'less than noble' way. "Now lying is a very useful skill to have. Don't believe all that 'honesty is the best policy' bullshit the adults fed you. There's only two kinds of people you should always be honest to." George smirked when one kid asked a question. He would always grin like that during the 'lessons'. "You should always be mostly honest with your brothers and sisters!" he gestured to the small crowd of kids around them. He liked  to call the group a 'family' in the beginning. "Why mostly? Because we aren't perfect, and we all screw up sometimes. Remember that!" George gestured as he finished, causing the group to smile. It was then Axion remembered himself timidly asking "Then who's the second person?" George chuckled in response. "I was waiting for someone to ask that. Now, listen up! The one person that you should absolutely never lie to is yourself! For if you lie to yourself, it gets easier. And then you'll lie to yourself more and more, and then one day you'll start to believe your own lies. And when that happens, that you'll convince yourself that sound you thought you heard behind you in the allyway during the night was nothing, and you won't see the mugger behind you!" George put on a serious face and several of the kids made scared noises. "So don't ever believe your own lies no matter how convincing they are or how much you want to."

Axion pulled back into reality as he felt the stirrings of another memory within him. "No. Not that one." He grunted and set the derringer aside. "I won't remember that again, but I can't lie to myself. I...may have to use that." Axion's face twisted into a grimace. "I'll burn that bridge when I come to it. Right now I need to find something that'll help me get out of here... one person's things down, three more to go." Axion scanned the next shelf. "...Am I technically grave robbing?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry but I need your stuff."

Axion searched through the next person's possessions, separating the rolled and bunched up clothes. "Ah, these pants might fit me better, it even has a belt." He hastily stripped out of his ill fitting clothing and hopped into the black pants and quickly adjusted and buckled the belt. "Not a perfect fit, but it'll have to do. Now, I can't go around barefoot..."

Searching through the clothing of five different people, Axion deduced what type of people they were from their things. He looked down at himself with a smile, finding more things than he could use than he originally expected. One of the unfortunate people was very large man judging from the size of the clothing, this lead Axion to give the imaginary man the label 'Thug'. Bending down, he tugged on the fastenings of the straps on the tall leather boots he found in Thug's pile, surprised to find that they fit his long feet comfortably. 'I don't think I'll even get blisters, they feel well worn.' Next he did the same with the bracers on his forearms, then pulled back on the connected leather gloves on each hand. He wiggled his exposed finger-tips back and forth, wiping some dark fluid on his pants. 'Grease,' Axion commented, rubbing some of the oil in-between his thumb and forefinger. 'It's all over these and there's stains on this shirt. They came from the same pile, so I'm assuming this guy was a mechanic or something.' He had ditched the cotton shirt in favor of an olive-colored long-sleeved shirt that fit his slender frame a little better. "Mechanic... Maybe he has something useful." Axion muttered to himself out of habit.

Axion moved the lantern to that shelf, careful not to make any noise. He immediately went for the pouches as soon as he saw them, reaching out and grabbing one canvas frame bag, he undid the brass snap-button and revealed a set of screwdrivers and awls, while the next contained a small of wrenches and two sizes of pliers. A couple other pouches he checked contained various other tools designed for tinkering, even some adhesive and a sewing kit that Axion figured was used for balloon patching. Grabbing the nearby bandoleer, he slung it over his right shoulder and over his head, and then quickly re-did the fastenings to the smallest setting. Quickly attaching all the pouches, Axion looked over at Thug's pile and his eye caught on another bandoleer, this one shaped that one leather strap would go over the shoulder, another under the armpit, and both would connect to a larger piece that would lead across the chest and around the back where it would split into two strips again. Picking it up, Axion easily saw it wouldn't fit him, as it had no adjusts and Thug had torso twice the size of his own.

The reason Axion grabbed it was the sheathed knife strapped to it. Wrapping his fingers around the brass knuckle handle, he pulled out the blade with a quick tug, and inspected it and the flickering light. "This'll be useful." he voiced his thoughts as he turned his wrist, feeling out the weight then punching out and making several jabbing motions. Nodding to himself and sheathing it, he took it off the extra bandoleer and fastened it to his belt. "Now what else do we have?"

Spotting a satchel on the shelf above, Axion took hold of it and brought it to the floor, before taking the rest of the items on that shelf and bringing it down. "Now this must be the aviator." He noted how the contents were already disorganized like they had already been gone through. "Well that officer said he was a spy... why?" Axion's eyes lit up as he pulled out a rumpled piece of paper and a map. Smoothing it out, he brought it close to the light. "Now the map..." His heart sank as he view a topographical map showing only a region of tall mountains surrounded by water. "...Tells me nothing. Just mountains and ocean." He sighed, then blinked and brought the map close to his face. "Wait, this mountain is circled..." Axion narrowed his eyes and read scrawled text next to it. "Fort Cirrus." Bringing up the paper he frowned as he found lines, shapes, and labels that didn't make any sense. "Missing some context-wait, the map!" Laying the piece of parchment over the map, he flipped back and forth between the two. "It's a path through the mountains." He traced a line with his finger. "These are patrol lines, and these shapes are...wreckage?" Folding up the map, he placed it back in the satchel. "Might be useful later. Now what else? A spyglass, compass, a small signal lantern, a week's rations and a canteen, flare cartridges, and a...flare gun." Licking his lips and draining the remaining contents of the canteen into his mouth, he slung the satchel over his shoulder. Axion grabbed the aviator's clothing and sorted through them, picking up a fur lined leather jacket and putting it on. He grabbed the flight cap and slipped it into the satchel, placing a matching pair of aviator goggles onto his forehead. Wrapping a wool scarf around his neck, he stood up and looked around.

Axion twitched at a distant groan of metal. "I've been here too long..." he whispered. Opening the satchel, Axion started grabbing items that could be of any use that he overlooked and tossing them in. From the Gentleman he took the fancy monocle, an ivory pipe in a case, a set of folded documents he didn't stop to read, and after some hesitation, Axion put the derringer into his new coat pocket. From the mechanic he only grabbed a coinpurse, from the thug he took a lighter he found in the pocket of his pants.

It was just about as he was going to turn and leave that his eyes caught on it. It was a beaten-up old-looking leather bound book with yellowed pages. It was near where he found the slacks he was wearing. "Was this the old man's?" He opened it and flipped through the pages, frowning as he read some sort of complicated cipher. Axion shrugged and tossed it into his bag on a whim, not knowing of the ramifications to come.

[Rukatin]

I'm finding it hard to find reference images for steampunk.

[Merc]

I figure you'd find a lot of those by searching boorus or deviantart, actually.

Pair of boorus:
http://grognard.booru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list&tags=steampunk
http://safebooru.org/index.php?page=post&s=list&tags=steampunk

Also, having not really read the story bits at all yet, are you looking for steampunk specifically, or is the 'magical' in the title pointing towards arcane-punk/dungeon-punk which are the names that the medieval fantasy style "punk punk" genre is often referred by?

[Rukatin]

I'll get around to explaining it eventually. But thank you for the sites.

[Rukatin]

Axion crept down the darkened hallway, chewing on a piece of jerky he plundered from the ration packs. He came to a corner and peered around it, swallowing as he stared into darkness. He startled as his stomach gave a loud gurgle. "Shut up! I'm feeding you aren't I?" He hissed, biting down hard on something that might have been chocolate at some point. Probably.

Squinting into the black, Axion nodded to himself and started down it, hugging the wall and trailing his hand along a cool pipe. His vision slowly adjusted as he went, but he could still see only vague shapes and shadows. Passing another collapsed section, the pipe he was using to guide his way abruptly ended in a bent, sheared off end. Cursing in his head, he stepped forward slowly, testing the area ahead with a tentative foot.

Axion smirked as he found the edges of a a hole in the floor, and a long girder that spanned across it. He stepped on the makeshift bridge, confident it would support his low weight. Throwing his arms out to keep balance, Axion sniffed as he smelled seawinds and salt. Puzzled, he looked down to see dim relected light way down below. "How deep is this hole?" Turning back around, he took a step forward.

Only to recoil and stumble as his head impacted a low hanging pile he didn't see. He windmilled his arms, and next thing Axion knew he was falling. He tumbled as he bounced off a wall, and he flailed his hands around, trying to catch anything to slow his decent. He landed on a large pipe that broke immediately but still managed to force the air from his lungs. From there, it was only an instant before he landed on his back.

Coughing and hacking and struggling to get air into his chest, Axion dazedly looked around him, hands pushing himself up. One hand brushed against something, and he reflexively picked it up. Holding it up, Axion turned the old rust-colored crowbar. "I think...I think I'm okay." He huffed.

That's when the large pipe, loosened by Axion's impact, came loose and fell to the floor, and through the rusted iron panels that made them.

Axion only had a moment before the panel he sat on started to bend, then break. "Oh no, not again..." he whimpered. The rusted floor collapsed beneath him and he plunged into blinding light. Axion gasped in pain as he landed hard on back again. Groaning and blinking his eyes to clear his blurry vision.

It was the sound of shearing metal and the not-so-distant sound of said metal hitting something once, twice, then three times before finally making a splash that brought Axion back to reality. Turning his head one way, he saw what looked like the remains of a hanger built into a rock face. Turning his head the other way, he saw clear blue sky, a dense fog surrounding sharp rock spires jutting out of the ocean, and the broken end of a catwalk he had landed on. He down and found a shear cliff face leading to sharp rocks and debris that waves pounded against to an unknown beat. Finally, he looked up into the gaping dark hole he fell through.

Axion laid his head back and caught his breath, wanting nothing more to panic, to crawl into a small corner and hide, to cry, to be anywhere else than the insane and dangerous situation he was in right now. 'Later...right now, just take it easy.' He thought to himself.

The whole catwalk suddenly jerked, and Axion stared at the heavily rusted supports that held the catwalk in place as they creaked ominously. 'Or not! Time to move! Gotta move now! Move, move, move!' Forcing his body to respond to his commands despite all his aches and pains, he stumbled slash crawled down the grated pathway towards the relative safety of the dock. One of the supports gave way, the rivets binding them to the ceiling breaking and tearing loose. Cursing rapidly Axion broke into a run as the catwalk started to tilt. He winced as one after another each support tore free one after another, causing sections of catwalk he was just on to fall into the sea far below.

Axion's eyes went wide as the catwalk in front of him ended in twisted and rusted scrap meters away from the dock. Skidding to a stop, Axion looked behind him to see the last pieces of catwalk falling into the ocean or banging onto the jagged rocks that filled the water. "Oh fuck me..." He whined, before stumbling as his little island of iron shuddered as the old supports started to give under his weight. Looking to the far wall, Axion glanced at the crowbar in his hand, something he had grabbed on impulse mere moments before. Looking back to wall, he eyed the pipes attached to them. Finally eyeing the crook of the prybar, he whined once more at the stupid, crazy idea that was most definitely going to get him killed.

[Rukatin]

Now that thanksgiving is over, (and the fact I've been watching a lets play of bioshock infinite) my break on this is over as well.

[Rukatin]

Axion shivered and kept his eyes clenched tightly shut for several moments. After awhile of only hearing the steady pounding of the ocean against rocks and ominous groans of metal, he slowly opened his eyes to find that no, he was not dead.

He was just swinging above a yawning chasm, gripping his new crowbar with all his might hoping that the pipe it was hooked onto would not give way.