Alexander Tolby had always thought of the May Queen as a beautiful ship.

She was some twenty meters in length and the deck seven high, a Flemish Royal Gunship laid down in 1884 and commissioned in 1887, on the eve of the Republican Wars. Her first mate and quartermaster had mutinied as the Battle of New Brussels Station turned sour for the Prince's flotilla, fled the Flemish Princely State never to return, and turned to piracy and adventure.

The old man who became captain died of a heart attack in 1892, and in a fit of senility, gave the captaincy over to a stowaway half-elf who was not yet a man.

That lucky "halfie" was Alexander Tolby, or "Captain Alexander Tolby, at your service," as he often introduced himself. And even now, with a nasty split along the prow of the ship, the aether sails torn loose, and the railings splintered into oblivion, her captain still got goosebumps when he looked at her.

She was originally a marriage of wood and steel, though it looked like there would be little in the way of wood left after these repairs. She was in another world now - it did not take long for young Alexander to figure this out - but she and her crew all hailed from Gaia. In a nasty electrical storm, an unexpected surge of aether overwhelmed their battery and blew their engine, and they descended through grey clouds and strange purple lightning into the world of RhyDin.

As the captain surveyed the hull carefully, he grinned as he reflected upon that evening. They had bailed out once before, a few years ago, and he had bailed out shortly after the crew though he insisted he would remain with the ship - this time, to convince them to descend into RhyDin by parachute, he lashed himself to the wheel and insisted this time, he would do his best to salvage the ship.

It was a poorly thought out move that nearly cost him his life, but he managed to slow the descent, and crash-landed directly in front of the Red Dragon Inn. (It took some time to explain to witnesses of his arrival, the subtle but critical difference between crashing and crash-landing)

Within two days, his crew had found their captain and the warehouse where the May Queen was housed, within three blocks of the Inn. In that time, he had already kissed one woman, and had his sights set on another... a strange, tall, beautiful woman with silver hair...

BOOM! The engine protested to being started after such shoddy repairs, and Boris coughed and hacked up on the deck as he fled the stream of black smoke, and spat Russian obscenities at the "mechanical monster," as he liked to call it.

Alexander grinned and hollered, "Maggie! Maggie, get over here an' take a look at this!"

Maggie came when called, though her name was not 'Maggie' at all. Tarna wore what she deemed 'work appropiate' clothing... or mayhaps there were other motives behind it? A white blouse that she'd taken to unbuttoning when it got too hot working, a dark brown leather corssette and a full length skirt that she would pull up into her belt to keep it out of the way. Her black leather boots had been fitted with a steel toe after one too many near calls.

"What? What have you guys done this time?"

Small little thing to be pushing the taller men away from the engine. Perhaps it was their ship... but it was the craft of her and Corwin that was really going to get it into the air. Moving to where the smoke seemed to be coming from, she slipped a hand into the engine.. a slight glow of green protecting the skin of her hand and arm. When she pulled the hand back out it held a very blackened sausage, which she held up in front of Boris and Alexander accusingly... one eye brow raised.

By the time they're done proving their manliness, Gallilee has wandered down to see what all the fuss is about. On her back is a rucksack filled with who knows what, and at her hip is another filled with cleaning supplies. Arms folded over her chest, she regards them quizzically.

"Y'know, a pulley'd give ya better leverage."

She snorts at them in amusement, leaping nimble as a cat despite the two heavy bags weighing her down, and scurries up one of the many ropes thrown over the ship's side to provide access to the deck. She has a deck to swab and prettify, and time is wasting.

"We're not trying ta bend it, we're trying ta -- "

CLANK! Enough force is applied for the beam to lock back into place. Which sends Boris whirling by his captain to fall on his butt on the deck. Alex barely dances out of the way, and shrugs helplessly at Galli, and offers a hand down to Boris, while he talks to Edgar.

"Ah... how are the, uh, maps goin', Eddie?" He peers over curiously.