"A'right you lubbers! We don' want to be leavin' anyone behind! An' if we do, I want to know who they be so I can be shovin' our treasure in their face when we get back!"<br/><br/>Amalia's raised voice rung in the professor's ears and whipped him back into consciousness. The slow rocking of the ship's bowels had lulled him into following a circuitous train of thought, one mainly concerned with how exactly he could make himself useful to the crew. They probably wouldn't find anything requiring his expertise for months, and even then Redmane sounds like the type to listen to results rather than excuses about scientific impossibilities and limitations of equipment.<br/><br/>Downing the rest of the rum in his scratched metallic flask, Prof. Tweed took a deep breath and decided that the best course of action was to see the whole journey, the people involved, and his part to play in it as one big experiment. He would make observations, take note, control variables, conjecture hypothesises and build reports on the results. Yes, this he knew how to do very well. The unpredictability of the unknown ahead, as well as the personalities of the<i>Lion's Bastard</i>'s unique crew just added the extra challenge, something that slipped his mind in the race for fame, while the actual scientific principle was left but a spectator.<br/><br/>Another quick glance at his workstation to make sure everything was in place: the worn varnished wood desk in front of him, resting on it the fountain pen on its ink stone, tomes of several descriptions lined up against the back wooden wall of the ship, creating an interesting contrast of wood types. To the left of the professor's desk sat another, with a marble countertop, already slightly cracked. On it were beakers, an array of test tubes, and an oil burner for heating. Under the table was a wooden box stuffed with cotton where the rest of the professor's glass apparatuses were stored.<br/><br/>"You know the drill, say somethin' so I know you're here, and if you're not coming then get the hell off m'ship!"<br/><br/>The professor's neck snapped back up towards the stairs leading updeck. He already had half a mind to get up, and Amalia's continued shouts just encouraged him further. He reasoned the first step into being useful is being present. Without delay, Prof. Tweed hoisted himself from the chair, and wobbled slightly towards the stairs, still not entirely used to the ship's rocking. He climbed them, holding himself to the rail, towards and into the salty breeze of the sea and the striking sunrays of a rare blue sky in England. There he saw a strange girl half-dressed as a fox, cooing around a man bandaging the hand of a terrifyingly dangerous looking woman. Besides them, a laughing man with a crate of limes on his shoulder, talking to another with a nightmarish spider on his shoulder. To top off the rainbow of people, a towering man covered in trenching scars looks over towards the water with solemn stoicism.<br/><br/><i>Oh Tweed, you have no idea what the bloody hell you're getting into.</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>