Adrift In The Wild Blue Yonder

Dearest, darlingest diary,

It's been several weeks now aboard the Owl – just about the most daring ship to venture into the Wild Blue by my reckoning! We fly of course for that uncharted territory they call the Remnants, in search of my long-lost love, the pirate king Uriah Flint.

The capable first mate, Kalé Arkham, strove to prevent the diminishing fuel & the loss of our starboard engine following our flight from an Imperial brig from grounding us, yet in the end we were forced to seek refuge within the luminescent city-caves they call Haven. The ship's dashing captain, Cyrus Vance, assured me that the poor Owl's recent misfortunes would cause no further delays to our voyage; but he was gravely deceived! For that shape-shifting goblin-pilot Snargle plotted treachery, and no sooner had we disembarked than the mutinous crew had welded the airlock closed behind us, with cries of some dispute in payment!

Well, I didn't come to learn of this for quite some time, but it was all the dastardly design of that castoff from the Scurlock line, one scoundrel by the name of Tertius. His brother Arras, who also travelled with us, kept mainly to his own company in pursuit of some arcane knowledge about bloodlines, and seemed a trustworthy sort. Having been acquainted once with their father however, I was much discomfited by the clockwork curiosity in their service: an automaton with burning red eyes and the late Lord Scurlock's voice. But whatever else about this robotic "Baston", he comported himself well in the scuffle with port authorities to follow. The same cannot be said for the first mate Kalé, who at once broke her pact of fraternity with one captain to serve a new one – after first robbing him blind, naturally.

For there was further treachery ahead! In search of any message from my true love, we found ourselves in some dingy smugglers drinking hall, and entangled in a plot I fear I would never have been delivered from without my faithful bodyguard – for there is no warrior from here to the Imperial expansion who can stand against living weapon Naomi Bishop! The unknowingly-former captain Vance quickly found his old drinking buddy Thom Bannister, and contrived to gamble our repairs upon a wrestling match between the reigning champion (his old friend) and Naomi as the new contender. Yet little did he know that Bannister (being an aviator and a gentleman) had already agreed with his opponent, my guardian, to deliver us safely along our next leg of the journey to the Remnants.

As I lingered forlorn by the bar, despondent without word from my lover, what did I hear but a familiar voice by my elbow and turning, found myself greeted by a sight so long denied to me I was nearly moved tears: the face of my star-crossed soulmate, the pirate king Uriah Flint! He bade me follow him to flee this place, as his enemies drew around us within mere seconds, and fool that I always am for him I followed without another thought. Yet even as the klaxons rang out and the port locked down in the hopes of snaring him, it was all in vain – this was not my love, just the mischievous Snargle assuming his visage!

Back at the ship, the mutiny had run afoul of the authorities, with Arras & Baston detained by port authorities and soon forced to account to the colossal Portmaster Legion's Cliff, who fried fellow automaton Baston when he tried to transmit false memories to cover the Owl's tracks. This escalated quickly to an explosive magical maneuver, a face-off across a gangplank, the Portmaster plummeting into the depths below, and the Scurlock heir no closer to ridding himself of the brother he hoped to supplant. On the Owl's bridge, said brother chose this moment to indulge himself by smoking his stash of Black Lotus.

Meanwhile, the treacherous Kalé had snuck from the ship to carry out some murderous misdeed upon Vance – who had already run afoul of a minor misunderstanding between himself, Thom Bannister, myself, Naomi, and the Snargle-conjured vision of my lost love. Following this disagreement (the details of which slip my mind, so there is no need to record them here), he was in no state to confront his former right hand, and so used his warpéd blood to transport himself instantaneously back to the Owl where he resumed command.

I have heard word that the fractured crew did indeed rally long enough to pilot their way free of the authority's nets, their only casualty being the loyal Baston who fell defending his charges. Of course, heaven knows what awaits that restless crew of mutineers and disgraced nobles in the days to come... For my part, I greatly mistrust my travelling companions now, barring Naomi and of course the ever-courteous Captain Bannister. But whatever misadventures this new airship flies us towards, there is no chance it could be as thrilling as this hunt through the Haven...

And so, adrift in the Wild Blue Yonder, I remain –

Lady Blackbird