So the Frost Melts

Chapters

A Prayer Answered.
A New Liverpoolian Greeting.
And a Nova Griffonian Reply.

A Prayer Answered.

Author's Note

Note the italic feature is being used to better title city names.

Of course, should there be any issues, grammar-wise or lore-wise, please say so in the comments. Preferably without swearing, thank you.

A Prayer Answered.

Frostlands. New London. Late 1888.

The old Captain is inside the newspaper when he hears the old work whistle shrill before a young voice echos throughout the streets, all from old and frosted speakers, "Work shift done! Take a breather.". Some of the men inside immediately put on heavy jackets and leave, most of them muttering the kind of apologies you give to co-workers when you know they have to work late into the night.

The Captain blinks when one of the leaving workers salutes him out of the blue, before giving the young man a salute of his own as he left into the biting cold. A cough immediately draws him back as to why he's here. The lanky, though he may just be underfed, man in front of him takes the Captain's focus and runs with it.

"As I said before Captain Rudolph," the man says, "Our conversion of this..." the man seems to hesitate, rising his hand to his head and rolling his wrist.

"Propaganda center, Editor-in-Chief," the Captain says 'Chief' with audible amusement, "Let us not beat around the bush, it was a propaganda center, and it worked well, but now martial law is over and it needs to stay out of mine... and the Council's hands... at least publicly," The Captain glances around the room, full of printing presses all in good condition, "I hope you can make this work, you were the only one I could find that actually ran a newspaper before the Frost".

The Editor grimaces at the mention of the former state of the building he was in, "Of course sir, I'll work it just as fine as I ran the old newspaper back in Barnes... especially since I won't have any competition, right?"

The Captain sighs, "Yes I will try to block or slow another independent newspaper, but know that I need an actual reason to do so. I did not come this far just to be thrown out of leadership because of a single newspaper," the Editor open's his mouth to complain only for the Captain to wave his hand, "I suggest just keeping your head down, reporting only somewhat favorably on our actions, and try not to incite too many strikes, alright? Then maybe I can pull a 'why go with a potentially biased view when we have a true neutral view' card on any new newspapers. Is that good enough, Wilton?"

The Editor, Wilton, gives a slow nod as the Captain sighs again and starts to head out the door, out into the cold with two guards following him.

The biting cold strikes him immediately, his breath turns to mist the moment he breathes, the cold would've burned the lungs and throat of someone not used to this extreme cold but the old man was used to it, as was all of New London. He looks up and right in front of him, down a few dozen yards or so from the newspaper was it, the Generator. The lifeblood of New London. Without it, there would be no city, no hope, nothing. As far as they knew, they were the only survivors left with a Generator. There were some people hiding in the old convict ships that transported criminal workers to Generator sites, others stuck to hot springs, growing some of the few crops hardy enough to survive in soil not snowed on, no matter how barren the soil was. And some just hid in deep caves. But they were the ones with the Generator! The only source of massive amounts of heat to allow civilization, true civilization, not hiding in ships or caves praying for their next meal and a day's worth of warmth, to grow and flourish!

The Captain closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fumes from all over the city entered him. The cooking of a hundred houses, some in large clumps, some in small rows like old townhouses, with countless meals being eaten by hundreds of men, women, and children. The decaying fumes of the just closed factory, just having finished creating a new automation, those great machines that can replace entire work shifts, limited only by steam cores and computational machines, the first being dug out by a friendly trading partner, and the other being easily constructed by their engineers. Next, the smells of ironworks, coal mines, and wood drills, all just as important as the other. And of course, the most important smell, the Generator powered by tons of coal every hour to keep running. He opens his eyes and exhales.

"A warm day sir," the guard to his left says, half joking, half in sad truth.

"Very much is, sergeant... It's only -30 Celsius". No one says another word as they start marching off to a very slightly larger than normal house at the edge of a smaller collection of houses.

Rudolph is left alone as he enters his house, his guards leave with a salute the moment he touched the door handle. He walks through the surprisingly narrow hallways, narrow due to the thick walls both inside and outside the house. He walks up the stairs, past old hanged art, probably some of the last art pieces on Earth, into his room and immediately kneels by his bed.

Despite his tiredness and the complete burden that ruling the last city on Earth gives to a man, he does not give in to the call for sleep just yet. Like yesterday and the day before that, the week before that, and all the way from childhood to now, Rudolph started to pray.

"O'Lord, He that provided us with the animals we hunt for food, the men that can provide safety for the weak, and the wisdom of our engineers to better us all, please... keep us with You, may even the lowliest drunk, and hardened of criminals find forgiveness from You and in You," it's repetition at this point. He has said this specific prayer ever since boarding the dreadnought, that great machine that was designed to travel the Frostlands, and he has said it every day for months, only adding on to it, never changing it. Until today. The old Captain starts to stand to take his jacket off before heading to bed, only to find himself back on his knees and praying once more.

"O'Lord.... please.... grant us respite from the Frost, may spring... finally come," he thinks he's asking too much, temperatures are comparably low, food is high, animal populations are being tracked and are thought to be rising, coal is in good supply, and maybe they might just find.... or more likely stumble, across one of their sister cities. They couldn't have been the only ones to survive the storm. They were late to get to their site thanks to a malfunction on their dreadnought so others who had far more time must have made it... right? He sighs before finally heading to bed. Not knowing that his prayer was being answered.

The Frozen North, Northeast of Groenstein and Directly East of the Penguin Capital, Dachaigh. Late 1006.

In the Frozen North, around a hundred and fifty miles off the coast of Groenstein, was a singular Beam-styled fishing trawler with a small Nova Griffonian crew. Captain Straus was at the wheel when he saw it, or rather, was blinded by it. Straus fell, though he'd always say he ducked in stories, clutching his blinded eyes. The door to his bridge was almost immediately opened when he fell to the floor, letting Straus hear a chorus of surprised caws and swears as a pair of claws suddenly take ahold of his great coat and hoisted him back up to his paws.

"CAPTAIN!" the gryphon screamed into Straus' ear.

Straus could only confusingly look, though his eyes hadn't completely recovered so all he saw was a brownish blur, at the other gryphon before saying, "Y-yeah?"

The blur pointed... a finger he thinks, to the window in front of him, "LOOK!"

Straus looked out the window and saw... a white blob? A MASSIVE white blob actually! Wait the ship was still moving! Straus pushed himself out of his crewmate's claws and, despite not seeing much, managed to slowly stop the ship. His crewmate's voice brings his focus back to the brownish blu- well it wasn't really a blur now, he could see the blue in his eyes now.

"You alright, cap?"

Straus rubbed his eyes once again before looking at the griff once more... oh great. It was Tovi, the bloody layabout. "I'm fine, Tovi, head back to your duties and I'll..." Straus glanced back towards the white blob only to see a massive island utterly covered in snow, "Is that an island?"

Tovi looked at the island before turning back to Straus, "I think we should gather the crew, cap."

Straus just nodded, "Yeah... you go.... gather the crew I need to... think."

Tovi just raised an eyebrow before turning and heading out of the Bridge. Straus immediately sighed and put his claw to his head... "Gods... this better not be a fucking teleportation spell, I do not want to be anywhere except Groenstein."

A few minutes pass until their small crew of 4 griffs gathered around their captain.

"Gentlegriffs," Straus starts, "We have a problem," a chuckle comes from the youngest of them but a glare her way shuts her up, "there are either two ways to explain this. One, an island got teleported. That is unlikely as I think the only persons who could do that are the princesses back in Canterlot. The more likely one is we got teleported. And seeing as though that island is completely covered in snow, we may either be far more northwards than any ship should go, or we're near Pingland," He takes a glance towards his crew, they're silent, "We either head south, or look for anyone on that island. Any objection?"

The crew look at each other before the youngest of them says, "Uh, cap, I've been to Dachaigh, it's not this snow-covered even in the harshest of winters... are we sure this island wasn't just teleported by... divine means?"

Tovi scoffs at the young woman, "I doubt the Gods would summon some random snow island for us to explore, Sanne".

Sanne opens her beak only for Straus to say, "Yes yes, we know Sanne, 'we do not know the true actions of the Gods and can not hope to know them', I already decided on what we're doing," he pauses to look at the island, "We will circle the island, compare it with the island that Dachaigh stands on, if it's not the same then we head southwest towards where Groenstein should be. If it is Dachaigh, then we'll dock and explain our situation, if we're lucky, the penguins won't be too racist towards us," Straus sighs, "Dismissed, head to your positions. We're heading to that island".

New London. Late 1888/Late 1006.

Rudolph wakes up at 6 AM, just like every day for months on end. He moves his hands to his face to rub his eyes only to notice something. His hands were off, like extremely off! He blinked at his hands.... claws, thinking he was just dreaming. Hesitantly he brought one claw to the other and pinched the bird-like hand. Pain, dull through the scales but still there, radiated from the pinch. He stared at his claws, before finally noticing the feathers on his arms, leading down... down to his shoulders. It's when he accidentally taps his shoulders with his beak that he finally realizes he isn't dreaming.

He starts screaming, "HELP, OH- FUCK SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!" He rolls out of his bed, only revealing more of his new body, thankfully his shirt and pants had transformed to better fit him. He started to pull at his feathers, plucking some, revealing bird-like skin underneath. With plucked feathers in his claws, he starts to hyperventilate... he can't breathe. He tries to get onto his feet... paws only to fall back down onto his chest, finally he curls around himself, trying to calm down. Seconds pass... then a minute as Rudolph tries to calm his breathing. He raises his claw to his beak, trying to feel out his face... his face felt soft, it must've been covered in feathers as well.

Finally... the man... bird thing? Started to slowly raise himself, one claw on the bedroom table next to him. He only notices his cat-like feet as he stands up. He feels numb, his... paws? His paws were numb as though frostbite had swept through them. A minute passes as he waits for the feeling in his... paws... to return before taking a single step. Then another... and another... a few more and he let go of the table only to hear a soft thack sound. Looking behind him, he sees a long slender tail with a spade-like end of fluffy fur. He must be more cat-like then he thought... then again... he couldn't see anything since he was still wearing his pants and shirt... wait he swore he saw something behind him.

Using his claws, he felt it... it was a massive patch of feathers... was it.... he pulled the hardest part of it out to his side... it was uncomfortable.... but it was exactly what he thought it was.... wings... he had wings. Fuck this was bad.

'Oh God... please... let it just be me,' he thought as he slowly started to shuffle from his bedroom and to the stairs... this was going to be painful.

It was not just the Captain. The city was in complete chaos. Hundreds of citizens were rioting in the streets, religious zealots fight each other as some said it was a blessing for them to better survive the Frost and others said it was a curse from Satan himself.
Most religious people simply prayed for answers in the Great Temple. Entire guard units are disorganized, unable to recognize fellow comrades, leading to some saying that others are in fact traitors in disguise. Order is broken, and Faith is shaken.

The Captain has just exited his house, barely remembering to put on his coat and boots... they both barely fitted him. His paws were too big and the boots too small. His wings twitch under his coat, it's both annoying and uncomfortable. He sees some citizens running around on unsteady legs, with some running on all fours, and even one... flying?

He sighs before starting to run to the Generator.

He pushes past rioting crowds that don't recognize their Captain as he finally gets to the Generator. The Council is there; Carl Snape, the official head of the New London Police and Guard, (though most people know that the Guard are more than willing to ignore him and answer directly to the Captain and the Police don't really exist in the city yet) Olen Wright, superintendent of the New London Mines, Jeanette Carnall, Overall-Commander of the Scout's League of New London, and finally Jason Vear, Chief Scientist of the New London R&D department. He only recognized them because of their clothing, Jeanette's specially designed goggles, Vear's eyepatch and glasses, Carl's military-styled great coat, and Olen's silver medal he so loves to wear on anything and everything. There is a small line of guards in front of them... at least he thinks they're guards, he doesn't recognize any of them.

Without a word, the Captain starts to walk to the line, only to be met by a growl from a guard, "Back, citizen! Under order of the Council, no citizen is to disturb their meeting". Right... they still didn't have a dedicated building for council meetings so they hosted them in front of the Generator. It helped morale but it also forced council members to not discuss certain topics due to fear of a potential protest mid-meeting.

"I am part of the Council, I am Captain Rudolph, now get out of my way, guard!"

Captain Rudolph pushed past the guard, accidentally knocking him down to his claws, and walked to the council, who were quietly talking to each other. "Gentlemen... and gentlewoman. Things... are fucked".

Carl chuckles before a grim look takes his face, "My men are trying to reorganize themselves, but it's slow. We may be able to get control of the city by," he checks his pocket watch, "10 or so AM".

"Good," Rudolph turns to Vear, "Apart from us being transformed into... these... bird cat things, what do we know?... And get off the floor and onto your feet, you're a man, not a dog!"

Vear coughs a little and doesn't get off his claws, "It's easier to walk this way, Captain. But we figured out what we are... we're gryphons. Ancient Greek animal, of course, they don't actually exist. But thanks to some... doctor work, we know that our new... bodies... are meant to walk on all fours".

Rudolph stares at Vear for a moment, "What about our wings, Vear? I saw someone flying with them just... two minutes ago".

Vear rubs the back of his head before shrugging, "Some of us are taking to it far better than most I assume. My assistant accidentally bumped his head on the ceiling of the workshop after flapping his wings in a demonstration... he was on the first floor. We need people to not uh... fly until we can figure it out, we don't need workers falling into the Generator". He turns towards Carl as he finishes his sentence.

Carl sighs, "Yeah yeah I'll order the lads, but the moment we order people to not fly, they're going to realize they can fly and that's going to cause all kinds of problems on its own. I really don't want to order my lads to chase a flying target when they can't fly".

"Just do it, Carl," Rudolph says before Jeanette asks a question.

"Can you let our scouts learn how to fly first... and we need to delay their scouting missions. They need time to adjust to their new bodies... and wings".

Before Rudolph can respond, Olen finally speaks up, "Sir... we should probably talk with our trading partners. The lads at Greywall probably aren't doing well. And who knows how the other settlements are doing?"

Rudolph says nothing for a few seconds before turning back to Jeanette, "Go to the administration building and check on the local settlements, and your request is accepted, now go!"

Jeanette immediately starts to walk before standing for a moment, only for her to flap her wings and take an uneasy flight.

Vear grumbles, "Of course, she decides to fly the moment we talk about banning it".

"Silence Vear," Rudolph says, "We have bigger things to worry about, Carl, gather your men, if they're wearing a guard uniform then assume they're ours. We're restoring order by 10 AM, we have 3 and a half hours. Now go, Vear get the factory open early, and make as many refitted boots and clothing as you can. Olen, get at least the coal mines up and running, now! Meeting dismissed!

Frostlands

Across the Frostlands, cities and settlements awaken to find themselves changed. New Manchester, already battered by the storm and slowly recovering, falls into open rioting as Scientists from Legacy rush to understand their new bodies, and aid their Manchester comrades.

Sanctuary holds strong even with the changes, their post-storm-created People's Council manages to keep any rioting from damaging the city too much.

The Dreadnought, full of the survivors from fallen Winterhome, is forced to stop, not only from the chaos from the changes but the sudden disappearance of the frozen solid sea and the appearance of a comparably warm arctic sea. The smell of fish lures men and women from Dreadnought and their temporary leader decides, after a warm breeze hits the group's face, slowly melting the snow around them, that this will be their new home.

New Liverpool, barely surviving thanks to the Generator workers left behind housing and food, suddenly finds themselves on a warm arctic sea. Taking the warm sea as a great exchange for their new bodies, the Noble city of New Liverpool starts creating the first ships used by the British in 2 long years, eager to hunt some of the first meat they've had in years. None of them notice the small ship slowly closing to their shore.

A New Liverpoolian Greeting.

Author's Note

Just as last time, italics will be used for city names.

However, due to the many languages of the gryphon people, italics will also be used for them, ONLY, when a non-English language is being used while in the presence of actual English users. Actual English will not be in italics.

For example: Char 1, English speaker; "I like apples". Char 2, a non-English speaker who is in the presence of Char 1, "I Like apples too!". Char 2, not in the presence of an English speaker, "I don't actually like apples".

Also, if you know any Victorian era, preferably pre-1887, slang words, please post them in the comments. I'll use them just to make sure the people seem to be from their time and not ours.

A New Liverpoolian Greeting.

New Liverpool. Dockside. Twenty minutes to First contact. 11:09 AM.

It's one of the workers constructing one ship, which would make up the rest of the small fishing fleet that'd soon explore the sea for fish, who spots the small ship, barely a few miles away from them. Within seconds, an entire work shift's worth of people had stopped working and was busy debating each other while pointing newly gained talons at the strange ship over the horizon. It wasn't long until one of the six foremen for the entire makeshift shipyard, with six work teams of ten, realized that his designated team wasn't working.

"Oi!" the young, but clearly wrinkled, even underneath his somewhat dirty feathers, foreman shouted as he quickly, and almost tripping on his clumsy paws, climbed down hastily made stairs to his part of the shipyard's work yard, "Get back to work! No po-" his voice dies in his throat as his eyes follow the points and sees the small ship getting ever closer. A single moment passes before the foreman turned and started to run up the stairs, only to trip and climb up it on all fours, much to the laughter of the few men who even noticed the foreman come down in the first place. Of course, the young man didn't much care, more focused on immediately telling... well, everyone, that there was a ship inbound.

The screaming was audible for acres around, "SHIP! SHIP INBOUND!". Of course, a few acres was more then enough for the entire city to hear, albeit very slightly over the noises of mines, factories, and general noise created by a city of barely a thousand strong. And as the work day was still going on, very few people actually did hear the screaming.

The foreman was finally stopped, just as he entered a main plaza right next to the Generator, when he was met by an incredibly annoyed guard grabbing ahold of his arm.

"Right, what the hell are you doing, you daft shag-bag! Get back to work! Your time off ain't in for another two hours!" The guard yelled at the foreman as he started to drag the man off, either to prison or back to the shipyard wasn't clear but he stopped the second the young lad screamed.

"There's a ship! A steel one! The Earl needs to know bout it! It could be English!"

The guard looked down at the wrinkled face of the griff in his claws, before starting to drag him again. The wrinkled young griff lets out a single swear before the guard says, "I'm taking you to the Earl, not prison, now stop draggin your feet," the guard scoffs the moment the foreman practically jumps back to his, previously dirt/snow dragging, paws and starts dragging the guard to the Earl's 'palace', "Bloody unlicked cub".

Aboard the fishing trawler. Fifteen minutes to First contact.

Tovi sighs again behind the wheel... for what feels like the tenth time in two minutes to Captain Straus.

"Shut it, Tovi," Straus sighs as he looks up from his binoculars, "If you didn't want to be behind the wheel then why in Boreas' name did you take it?"

"Because, Cap," Tovi glances around the room, looking to see if anyone's here, before speaking again, "We both know Sanne, for all her boasting, doesn't know the difference between a 'Full Ahead' command and a 'Full Astern' command. And the other two lads are greenhorns, only thing I trust em with is nets, fish, and nothin else".

Straus says nothing as he looks down his binoculars again, he's had this argument with Tovi before and that ended with... well no claw fight thankfully, just a very upset Tovi. And despite his feeling that Tovi is a layabout, even if he is a good worker, he really does become one when he's upset.

The fishing village in front of him, because there's no way it could be anything else, was the strangest thing he's seen in years. A tiny fishing village with an actual steel dock... wait no that's a shipyard... that's actually even more surprising! Where the devil were they? Skynavia? Gods, he really doesn't want to be anywhere near those Red flagged fools. But even then, Straus doubted that any tiny village of this size would have an actual steel shipyard able to build... while anything apart from what tiny fishing villages normally have. Maybe this place used to be important and now isn't? Like uh... Cyanolisia?

Straus blinked, lowered his binoculars, and rubbed his eyes, he was thinking too much about this and not on more important things. Like why haven't they already been boarded by the village's militia as greeting like back in... well all of Nova Griffonia. Or that big fuck off metal tube in the middle of the village spewing who knows how much smoke into the sky. Hell, despite being a clear fishing village, he can, even inside the bridge, taste the stench of heavy industry and mines. What fishing village has heavy industry? And what fishing village doesn't have a fishing fleet out at... any time!

"Cap?" Tovi's voice rang out, the confusion in his voice quiet but obvious, "I know you have good eyes... and binos, but I don't really see any griffs flying around, we sure these aren't penguins or something?"

Straus scoffed before saying, "I can see the griffs just fine with these binoculars, if you're so certain they aren't gryphons then take it and let me take the com". He presses the binos into Tovi's chest as Tovi grumbles, takes the binos, and gives the wheel to Straus. Straus holds the old wooden wheel in both claws as Tovi looks down the binoculars towards the small village. "They're gryphons, Tovi, obvious as day".

"Doesn't change the fact they aren't flying... at all," Tovi narrows his eyes, "I don't like this sir... Where do we keep the spare defense weapons, Cap?"

Straus almost laughs, "We aren't shooting them just because they can't fly, Tovi".

"It's for self-defense, they might be some uh... rabid... NRPists right? It's just for self-defense".

Straus doesn't say anything for a full minute, his face not betraying anything. "Last I checked, our Kaiser appointed Governor Teafeather, Gods bless him, does not have an official stance on the Northern Republican Party, or their actions. I doubt we have to worry about them. Unless you got some royal blood in you and you never told me, Tovi?" Straus smirks at Tovi, before frowning as Tovi's face doesn't shift, "We have one revolver, nothing more, Tovi. I'm taking it because as it is law that the captain of any ship must have a gun".

"That's still not a law, cap," Tovi sighed before raising the binoculars to his eyes to once more spy on the village.

New Liverpool. First Earl of New Liverpool's 'manor'. Ten minutes to First contact.

The excitement about the new ship had died just enough for the foreman that the guard was no longer being dragged by the wrinkled young griff but was instead now just barely able to keep up with him without tripping over his paws. This pace of speed quickly brought them to a manor, the manor of the First Earl of New Liverpool. Of course, due to size limits, the manor was more just a larger house with a tall, strong wooden fence surrounding it and a single guard post, one guard in the post and one outside it, at the gateless entrance. Despite this, the manor gave exactly the kind of message its Earl wanted. That of both humility and power. If the population of the city had even 500 more people then it was assured that only the first would be seen, but the mere fact that a few guards had their only duty to protect a single house showed the wider people that the Earl was protected and strong.

Obviously, the guards stop the two at the entrance. However as the two explain the situation, the guards let them pass into the 'manor', one of them leaving the post to direct them to the Earl.

There is a creak as the strong, heavy manor door is opened, letting in sunlight into the candlelit main entrance. It's tiny for a manor's main entrance but it works well enough for the small meetings with the public that the Earl so love to do.

"Right Honorable, Earl Hilton!," the directing guard called out as he lead the two into the small manor, only to hear a small crashing sound immediately followed by a door slamming open and a well-dressed, though his clothing was more ragged than any Earl would normally accept, gryphon stumbling through it.

"Yes? What is the problem, Sergeant" Hilton asked as he, as carefully as he could on his unsteady paws, rapidly walked over to the three griffs. Hilton immediately, upon noticing his Sergeant glance behind the Earl, says, "Don't worry about that, I can clean it up just as soon as we..." it's at this point Hilton takes a good look at the other griffs, "Who are these people and why are they here, Sergeant?" Thankfully, Hilton's voice was just confusion instead of anger. The Earl was... more accepting of working with commoners then most nobles during the start of the Frost.

"Earl," the Sergeant started, "these men," he gestured to them, "have seen something and need to tell you".

"It's just this lad, Sir, not me. I didn't see anything, I just brought him here," the guard said before being quickly cut off by the Earl.

"Nonsense lad! You're the gentleman who brought mister..." the Earl looks to the both of them, "Names... now. If I'm going to lose minutes of my life listening to you two, then I want to at least know your names".

The two men look at each other. "French, Sir," the guard says, "...Sue, Earl," the foreman says after a moment.

"Good, Mister French, and Mister Sue. Now, what's the problem? Seeing as though I haven't heard a mob on my door or the Generator falling apart I really want to know what the issue is and why it's a problem". The Earl's words, despite being clearly condescending, were spoken with surprising gentleness, more like a father talking to a babbling toddler... which somehow felt worse to the young men.

"There's a ship, Earl. It might-" Sue is cut off.

"I've heard enough already," Earl Hilton says before pausing. An awkward pause between the four of them happens for what feels like minutes before Hilton sighs, "No, I doubt it's British... that is what you were going to say, right Sue?" Hilton looks towards Sue, who had looked a little surprised, before lowering his head again in thought. "Clearly, something happened. New bodies, new sea, now a ship. My suspicion has already been confirmed by the snow melting," Hilton is quiet, practically muttering under his breath, "We likely have been transported to another world".

Despite the clear weight of those words, Hilton then immediately says, "Right!" and claps his claws, "That's a bit heavy. We need a welcoming feast for the newcomers... and a friendly Liverpoolian greeting!"

Silence rolls over the four of them for a few moments. "Sir... are we really going to just go over the fact that we might be... not on Earth anym-?" French says before Hilton cuts him off.

"We can think about that, AFTER greeting the locals... God, I really hope they aren't cannibals..." Hilton turns to his Sergeant, "Sergeant-at-Arms, get to your post, call up the guard, and get them ready in case these fools are some kind of Vikingr. Get the clubs, and whatever pistols we have. Also, call up those church boys, you know, those Catholic lads, and tell them to prepare a feast, visitors love a good greeting feast! And if they're still hostile then we'll call it a victory feast!"

The Sergeant salutes the Earl and quickly runs out the door, leaving the three griffs.

"Am..." French starts to say, "Am I allowed to join up with the rest of the guard or... what, Sir?" For once, Hilton doesn't cut someone off and actually stands there and visibly thinks about it.

"Hmmm. No. You... Yes, you, and Sue here, is going to go out, and greet them. We don't have any actual... diplomats... or... anyone who knows any language other then English... except that one Latin teacher, so somehow I doubt a Foreman and a single Guard can do too badly... plus, I have to dig some old stuff out... it's... actually quite important to this... probably".

The two men look at each other. This probably was going to go poorly.

Shore of New Liverpool. Just a few feet off the docks. One minute to First contact.

Straus really thought this was going to go poorly the moment he saw the gryphons on the rickedy docks run off, after being told... something by some black-coated griffs, as his boat got closer. He was out of the bridge, Tovi took the com, with Sanne while the other two griffs of his crew were currently furlling the sails to slow them as much as possible. Just a few feet and he'd could be able to set paw and claw onto the docks.

And so, instead of waiting, he told Sanne to wait, flapped his wings, and quickly hopped/flew onto the dock. Straus took a deep breath before finally looking around. There were half-constructed ships everywhere, only the largest of them had any sails, and it looked of poor quality. More made out of... bedsheets then anything. Most had what looked to be hand-made oars... odd.

He looked up towards the pier, normally someone... anyone would be greeting him by now.

Straus sighed, "Hello! I am Captain Straus, of the fair ship, 'Tabard'. Is... is anyone here?"

Finally, a gryphon, or rather, two of them, one with a black-coat with a giant lamp on it, and another with a more grayish coat with a thick, wollen, dull red sash, appears at the top of the stairs leading down to this pier and the shipyard connecting it. The both of them glance at each other before walking down the stairs... on their hind legs? Before Straus could say anything to the two gryphons, they speak.

"Hello, uh... person from beyond the sea! I am... the guardsman French, and this is... Sue," the black-coated one says, stress and weariness clear in his voice. Of course, he was also speaking the most butched kind of Equestrian he had ever heard in his life. Then again, he barely knew Equesrtian so it could just be a accent... but why in the God's name were a gryphon speaking Equestrian to another gryphon?

And so, faced with oddness of such an action, Straus elgently said a word that would change history forever, "What?"

And a Nova Griffonian Reply.

New Liverpool Dock. Not a second later.

French's face goes dark as he sighs, realizing he can't understand the gryphon. Sue rubs his eyes in annoyance only to stop.

"You said... What... right?" Sue hesitantly asked, his speaking of the word barely understandable, yet he still gets a confused, but understanding look from the gryphon

"What?" French said, somewhat amused to hear the word come out of Sue's mouth, "You telling me you can understand what's coming out of his... beak?"

"I think... I think he's speaking that Jew language the uh.... Hebrew something or what," French raises an eyebrow at the strange gryphon, who's just kinda standing there unsure what to do as the ship behind him just now finally docks as another gryphon, this one a little slimmer with black and white fur, jumps off the ship, as Sue explains, "We used to have a Jewish family for neighbours during the start of the famines".

"So he's speaking this... Hebrew..." French looked back to the opposing gryphon... he wasn't really all that dressed, he had a coat on sure, but it was kinda thin for the winter... then again... French took a deep breath... it wasn't really that cold out at all honestly... odd. "You know the language then?" He says as he turns to Sue, only to get a deadpan from the small foreman. Apparently not.

Captain Straus is deeply confused. First, his ship... or this island, gets teleported, then he finds griffons on this island, only to find out they speak some kind of... Equestrian, and doesn't speak his language, Nova Griffonine, well. By the Gods, knowing his luck they might not know any griffish language actually!

He turns when he finally hears his ship gently knocking against the sturdy dock and sees Sanne start tying a securing line to one of the, clearly hastily made, moors. "Thanks for helping cap," she mutters as she finishes before walking up to flank him.

"So, you know where we are?" She says as she breathes in the air, "Seems way too cold to be Southern or Central Griffonia," she rubs the back of her neck as she gazes at the two griffons, "though... we've never actually been that down south."

"No idea," Straus says, pausing just long enough for Sanne to think that was all he was going to say until "They don't speak Griffish".

"Griffish? I didn't know you believed in Pan-Griffonianism," Sanne said as she raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean, they aren't speaking any griffon language, period," Straus sighs, "They greeted me with some kind of... really butchered Equestrian..."

The two English gryphons just kind of stood there in silence as the counterposing griffs talked amongst themselves.

"You understand what they're saying, Sue?" French whispered to the Foreman, who just shrugged.

"They're saying something about... language? Or something? Probably about what our language is supposed to be. I suppose that makes sense..."

French chuckles nervously, "You really don't sound sure don't you, aren-" Suddenly the sound of shouting erupts behind them. The two of them turn around as the two other gryphon's head snaps to the stairway. The shouting was happening behind it, and since there was a little hill leading up to the stairway, they couldn't actually see who was shouting.

"HEY! STOP! By ord-" the shouting stops for a moment before picking up, "No way in hell, did Lord Hilton tell you and your little altar boys to bring out all this food for some-" the shouting stops again for a long, awkward minute before a cry is given out overtop the stairs, "Yes, Earl Hilton!"

"Well..." Sue muttered, "I think the Earl is here with his... feast... do we even have any food other then old canned beans and raw potatoes?"

"You can still make a feast out of little... if anything those Catholics would probably keep it that way and give a sermon about humility and temperance and living poor like Christ and whatnot".

Sue said nothing except silently made the sign of the cross as Earl Hilton appeared over the stairs and looked down at the four gryphons.

"Sue! French! Good to see you two haven't been murdered by our visitors! Which means I don't need to use this!" With that, the Earl draws a, kinda old looking, sabre of all things! With a smile on his beak, he turns his head behind him and says, "Give them a good feast, my good lads!" And that is when the tall wide silhouette of a Mitre creeps up to the top of the stairway.

Straus' heart skips a beat as he saw the new gryphon, dressed in a thick brown coat, with a cap of pelt looking more like a militia captain's hat from back home in Nova Griffonia then anything else, draw a sword! Was he some kind of noble? Military officer? Though, thankfully, the sight of a Mitre, slightly calmed him, after all, if this community has some kind of church, it means they aren't completely savage... right?

The gryphon attached to that ragged Mitre appears somewhat young for someone who likely held a, likely, important spot in the local church. But Straus' eyes quickly turned from the priest to another priest behind him... a deacon perhaps? And he was carrying a... table? He was carrying a table, with help from another priest, at least he assumed the gryphon was one, and they just followed the... bishop, for lack of a better word until he knows what the holy griff calls himself. As they were halfway down the stairs, two more griffs, these ones looking more like the black-coated gryphon down here, a uniform perhaps, appeared at the top of the stairs carrying... a serving platter? It was made of wood and looked more like a bowl with a wooden covering but he could smell the food coming from it, no meat sadly but he could smell earthy foods... well at least his crew could eat some food that wasn't that oversalted... if not for the fact that he has no idea whether or not it's poisoned.

The first duo of griffs brush past the black-coated and grey-coated griffs before setting the table in front of them and heading back. The second duo followed quickly behind, setting the... platters on the table, opening the tops and quickly departed back to the base of the stairs along with the first group. Straus honestly didn't want to eat it because... well would you eat some random food a bunch of people you just met on a mysterious island gave you? Of course, Sanne, didn't think twice about it and quickly hopped/flew over to the table and as the, most likely, bishop raised his front paws to the sky and started talking about... something, language barrier and all. Sanne just dipped her claw into one of the... wooden bowls that were meant to be platters and brought a... raw potato out?

Straus was about to say something to Sanne before she bit down on the potato, causing the bishop to snap his attention to her. The bishop blinked at the gryphoness before looking up to Straus and, calmly, waved him over, before picking up another potato and taking a bite out of it.

Straus sighed, fine, he'll eat the bloody potato. He walked over, grabbed the potato out of the bishop's claw, much to the amusement of said bishop, and took a bite out of it. "Well... It's fine, I guessed... bit too cold though," he muttered, just loud enough for the bishop to hear and raise an eyebrow.

There was an awkward moment of silence as Sue and French just stood there and watched, that was until the bishop quietly spoke, "Come, eat, this is a feast for you as well," his voice was kind and light, not in the way that someone had intentionally made it that way but it was just simply how he spoke.

Sue give the slightest of bows before slowly walking up the the "feast" it really was just potatoes, grain, and canned food. Sue knew they had better food in the cookhouse, actual bread with only slight amounts of sawdust, cooked potatoes that may or may not be a little rotten, and warm canned beans that'll probably put him on a toilet, but he certainly wasn't the kind of man to disrespect a priest, especially not the bishop, after all, Sue went to church.

French thanked the priest before going over, taking one look at the food before picking up a potato and muttered low enough for Sue, and the two Nova Griffonians but they didn't understand him, to hear, "I think this might be frozen shit, Sue".

Sue only laughed before taking the "frozen shit" and biting into it, "Naw, not frozen shit, just frozen potatoes," Sue chuckled more, only to stop as he noticed a third gryphon, along with two others but they weren't getting off board, climb off the ship and walk over to them. His feathers were greyish, though some looked more from age than natural born, and he was... well slightly larger than all of them. Not stupidly large, just like an inch or so above them all. He crept, because there's no way in hell that is how he normally walks, up to two eating gryphons, before slapping his... wing? His wing onto the male's back, spooking him.

"You know," Tovi says, a tiny frown on his face, "I didn't think you were..." Tovi pauses, seemingly thinking on the best word to say, "Foolish... enough to just eat food given to you by strangers, hm?"

Straus swallows down his piece of potato, it was bloody freezing beyond belief for some reason, before speaking, "Well Sanne, here," the both of them look over to Sanne, now having moved on from her potato to... a bowl of grain, "She started eating long before me, and their uh... bishop," he nods his head to the bishop standing on the other side of the table, noticing him talking to that noble griffon, who had just walked down the stairs, "Their bishop took a bite out of one, so I took his potato," Tovi says nothing for a moment, before taking Straus's potato for himself.

Of course, because of karma's sake, before Tovi could actually bite it, that noble walks up to the table... with the bishop by his side. The two shipmates, Sanne was too busy eating to really notice, heard said noble and bishop mutter to each other, only for the bishop to look up to the shipmates, and spoke in a slow, slightly slurred way, "You are... Hebrew?" Straus' eyes widen as the bishop, mutters to himself, repeating Nova Griffonine in a rather poor manner. Clearly, he knew a bit of the language but not a lot.

"Are we... Hebrew?" Bishop slowly nodded his head and Straus only got more confused, "Uh... no, we're Nova Griffonian... you know... from the old colony?"

The bishop frowns and turns to Hilton, "They say they are... Nova Griffonian... from a colony.

The earl nods, "Ask them about where this colony is and who founded them," before turning to Sue and French, "You two, stop eating and start acting like guards, we have a," the earl glances back at the bishop, seeing him mutter broken Hebrew to himself, decent translater," the two gryphons salute the earl before, after taking a few more bites out of their food, taking position behind the earl, trying their best to look like guards.

The moment the bishop asks them, Straus' confusion only grew; they don't know about the empire? "Well..." before Straus said anything, Tovi replied, "Nova Griffonia is southwest from here, completely sure on that,"

As the bishop turns to relay it to the noble, Straus whispered to Tovi, "You... you do know we have no idea where we are right?"

"Well the water's been the same since we say this island come, plus the fish are the same we catch any other day, we're probably still in the Frozen North,"

Before Straus could say anything in response, the bishop turned back to them and asked, "We know you... not... diplomats... we wish to speak to... diplomats... from your colonial... command."

Straus looked to Tovi and got nothing but a raised eyebrow, before turning back to the bishop, "I mean... we can take a letter to our government".

The bishop gave a smile before turning to the noble and translated the sentence to him. The noble smiled as well before turning to the griffons behind him, "Sue, French. Bring me pen and paper".

Author's Note

Honestly, I feel that this was somehow rushed and not rushed at all. I'm not really sure how to feel it about it