Dark Skies

Dark skies surrounded London. A black smog stretched across the horizon emanating from the factories that dominated the sprawling cityscape, drenching the sprawling metropolis with a dark haze that seemed to smothher all the light of the city.

Suddenly, the sleek, sooty underbelly of a ship sleuced through the clouds, breaking the eerie calm of the skies. The ship was a small affair of aging wood and rusted steel, dwarfed by the galleys and battleships floating off the Thames. The agile cruiser cut away from the large trading ports that faced the sea, descending towards the smaller shelters of the inner city's industrial quarter.

The airship glided downwards slowly, cutting across the low rooftops to settle along the river, lowering gently into a massive drydock that snugly housed the mansion sized vessel. A flurry of activity erupted on deck as the ship sank into its holding. Ropes were tossed to deckhands, merchandise began to rise from the belly of the beast, ready for sale or smuggling.

A wooden gangplank was swiftly raised to an opening in the ship's hull, two nimble crewmen swung out of the vessel to secure the plank with a few quick knots of rope, and out stepped an immaculately tailored man, clad in a well worn burgundy jacket which concealed his sword and saber, secured safely to his side.