Fandom Dragonology

[Tombstone]

To whom it may concern,

You may know of me, my name is Dr. Ernest Drake, the human leader of the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragonologists, and I come to you in desperate times. Two of the societies great Dragonological Treasures, the Spear of St. George and the Splatterfax have been lifted from us by Dark Dragonologists. There exact whereabouts are unknown, but they were last seen boarding a ship en route to South America. I must leave England now so that I may catch up, but I hope this letter finds you well, as I need your help. You are among the most capable Dragonologists in the world, and your assistance is crucial. I am assembling others as well. They will be meeting in the American Dragonolocial Society's safe house in San Francisco. If you accept the task of helping to reclaim these powerful artifacts, please rendezvous with them by on the 27th of September at Noon. Remember, the fate of both mankind and dragons hangs in the balance.

Dr. Ernest Drake, S.A.S.D.
St. Leonard's Forest, Sussex
September 4th, 1892

​

 

[Tombstone]

Chapter 1: Incognito

Dakota Badlands: September 20th, 1892

“Heave!”

The men all groaned in unison as the pushed against the giant boulder obstructing their excavation. Ropes had been tied around it, and fastened on the other end to a wagon, but even the horses hadn’t been enough. So all of that morning had been spend with shovel in hand trying to free up some of the dirt underneath the rock, while carefully trying not to damage the fossils underneath. Even the great Hershel M. Wallace was taking part of the action, as he was the most anxious to get to the find. But with the digging past, now it was time start moving the damn rock.

Once again it was lashed to a wagon, and once again the wagon was not enough, so all of the men huddled around the stone and put their backs into moving it. On the third attempt the rock finally budged.

“This time for sure, men!” Wallace called out to the crew. “This time for sure.”

Alan T. Goodnight stood up straight and moved his hand up to his forehead, at first to clear the sweat from his eyes, but then to shield them from the intense western sun as he surveyed the surrounding area. The vast expanse of the badlands was a harsh and inhospitable place, but one that was as oddly beautiful as it was treacherous. And oddly enough, Alan felt right at home.

All around men were catching their breaths, waiting for the next round of work to begin. Alan was tired too of course, but tired was a good thing, it was proof he putting in actual work and contributing.

Not far from where the boulder currently rested, the partially unearthed fossils long serpentine tail was visible. Without a doubt, it was reptilian, but the whole thing was quite curious, though the badlands were known for holding a host of dinosaurs, Wallace had discovered that the strata which they were digging through dated only to the mid Ice Age. While most of the men thought they were digging up just another old lizard, Goodnight was one of the few who knew the truth. It was why he had been sent for.

The bones belonged to a Dragon. What kind was yet to be determined, but judging from the tail, it was safe to assume some ancestral relative to the North American Amphithere. This was a tricky situation. Most dragons are highly protective of their burial grounds making them hard to excavate, and if said grounds could be accessed, dragon bones, for whatever reason had a hard time preserving. The find in front of these men was exceptionally rare, and marked a huge turning point in North American dragonology.

Alan’s purpose, separate from all the other men, was mostly for protection of the dig. In a sense he was a hired gun. If Natives or were to become an issue, well it was fair to say that among all of the scholars and hired hands, he was by far the best shot of the bunch. And while a few among the group studied dragons, they had only ever dealt with analysis of the fossils or worked with tamed hatchlings. None had actual practice tracking and communicating with dragons in the field. This was where Goodnight came in most handy, he was the one meant to assure the parties safety in case dragon became territorial. Luckily, in the weeks they had been digging, there were no signs of any around camp, or in the surrounding mountains. The sight was truly forgotten and fair game to the team. Though the main reason he was there was now practically moot, he decided to stick around as he wanted to aid with the dig and observe the findings first hand.

“Heave!” Wallace called again after the men had steeled themselves. And with the work of several grunting men, the boulder moved from its rest and was dragged away by the wagons. The bones were now full to be full excavated.

Later that evening, Goodnight sat around a table inside Wallace’s tent with the two other paleodragonolgists. Or rather, paleontologists who could now call themselves paleodragonolgists. Wallace pulled out a bottle of champagne he’d had stored in his trunk for quite some time. Glasses were filled and then raised in the air. Suggested cheers ranged from “To us!” to “Fuck Marsh and Cope,” it was quite clear that many resented the two paleontologists involved in the bone wars. Part of it was due to the records which they had set, other reason included the shady practices which will no doubt impede most paleontological findings for quite some time. But now, Wallace and his men could stand on what was arguably an even greater achievement, this first fossilized dragon on American soil. Eventually they on the toast which Goodnight suggested which was to the mission statement of both the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragonologists, as well as the American Dragonology Society “to preserve and protect!”

After the fanfare and celebration, the men retreated to their tents. Alan however found the night air warm enough he could do without so he went up to the hill where his horse Jasper was tied. After rolling out his blank and lying down to face up at the starts, some light caught his eye in the distance. A lone rider was approaching the camp through the dark night with a torch. Fearing the possibility of sabotage he threw a blanket over his horse to take the place of a saddle and road towards the approaching stranger with a pistol tucked into his waist.

Alan was able to cut the rider off right be fore he made it to camp. He drew his pistol and leveled it at the stranger. “What’s your business here friend?”

“Friend?,” the man scoffed with a slight British accent, “I hardly see how that possible with you levelling your pistol at me sir.”

So the man was a scholar and a foreigner, definitely not the type that would be employed to ruin the dig. Alan slowly cocked the hammer on his Colt, with each of the four clicks ringing out in the night, he didn’t like the man’s type anyhow. It was clear the man was quaking in the lamplight trying to talk his way out with words, not backbone. This annoyed Alan immensely.

“I asked yer purpose. Talk.”

“I bear a message. A letter.” The man replied.

“Fer who?” Alan inquired. “Wallace?”

“For whom,” the man corrected, and Alan was hard-pressed not to shoot him on the spot. “And no, it is not for the Hershel Wallace, this letter is to be hand delivered to another researcher among you, a mister Alan T. Goodnight. He must receive it immediately; will you take me to him?”

Goodnight stared the man down and tried to figure out his purpose. It was fair to say that he was damn curious as to what was going on. The stranger was obviously not some delivery boy sent out by the nearest telegraph office, he’d been sent there to find Alan?

“Who sends the message.”

The stranger bit his lip before responding with, “Im not at liberty to say.”

Alan squinted and shrugged, “Then give it here.”

“I will not!” The brit scoffed.

Alan motioned with his pistol. “I reckon you don’t really have a choice in this matter friend.”

The stranger’s face visibly paled in the lamp light, he reluctantly reached into his coat and pulled a letter sealed with wax, and handed it over without a word.

Goodnight took in hand and stepped closer to the stranger’s light. Immediately he recognized the seal of the famed Dr. Ernest Drake. The stranger insistence on tight lips now made sense, and Alan recognized the importance. Without hesitation he tore the envelope and read everyword.

When done, he looked up and stared the man in eyes. “I’ll pack now, we ride at sunrise. With luck we can catch the evening train to San Francisco.

The stranger’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “You… A dragonologist.”

“Yes, welcome to America my friend.”

“I knew you had a reputation but I never expected you to be so.... Uncouth.”

And Alan never thought that Drake would send such a bed-wetter, the world was apparently full of surprises.

“Out here you gotta be, or the land will eat you up before a dragon will,” Alan said as he mounted his horse once more. With a “Ya!” he rode off back into the night towards his camp, hoping to break down and pack everything he could.



San Francisco: September 27th 1892

The city was bustling all around as usual, tall buildings several stories high lined the streets, and people filled in everything in between. This wasn’t Goodnight’s first time here, nor would it be his last. Still that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

He navigated the city streets, slowly working his way towards his destination. In tow was the man who had messaged him, whom Alan had come to know as a Mister Eugene F. Burnham.

Eventually they found a red brick building without any sign. Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold key to open it up. The American Dranology Society’s safe house was empty of people on the inside, but on the wall and many shelves and tables were the results of years’ worth of dragonological studies.

Alan walked over to the large wooden table in the center of the room. Dr. Drake had called several professionals to his aid, Goodnight was just one of many. And this is where they were to meet. And as he was the first here, he’d wait.

 

[Kazig]

Finland: August 12th 1892

The dragon landed a little ways in front of its lair. It didn't take long for it to spot the gem, a brilliant blue sapphire, laid in before the mouth of its snowy cave. Some distance away, Hanna Jorunn watched through binoculars as the dragon accepted the gift, and dragged it into the cave. Jorunn flipped open her journal, glanced back at the fleeting frost dragon, and began to write. She wrote out a list of characteristics she had had spotted on the dragon, its coloring, approximate size, leaf shaped tail, among others; and drew a rough sketch of her. She examined her work critically, not her best, but it would have to do for now. She glanced at the sinking sun, only a couple hours of daylight left. She silently scooped up her equipment and began the long trek back home.

Opening the door to her cabin, she set down her stuff and removed gloves. She walked over to the wood stove and lit a fire. Placing a pot of snow on the stove, Jorunn sat her table and reviewed her notes. Her target this year was female, she'd have to look inside cave to count eggs the next time she visited. Suddenly, Jorunn heard a knock at her door. Wondering who could be this far out here, she opened the door to find a man shivering in the cold.
"A message f-for Ms. Hanna Jorunn." he said, holding out an envelope. She took the letter and briefly thanked him before shutting the door. She opened the letter, and almost immediately had to put it down when she saw who written it.
"Dr. Ernest Drake? The Ernest Drake! What could he possibly want with me?" She wondered. She finished the letter, and gave the notes she had taken a wistful look before getting up to pack. The Frost dragon would just have to wait, she was going to America.


San Francisco: September 27th 1892

Jorunn walked swiftly through the bustling city, pulling her hat down to avoid eye contact with any passersby. She as relieved as she was for her weeks of travel to have ended, she immensely disliked cities. She didn't understand why Dr. Drake had insisted on meeting somewhere so far away, and so populated. Clutching her notebook at her side, she scanned the buildings along the street until she spotted the one she had been searching for. A red brick building with no sign, just has the letter had described. Approaching the door, Jorunn pulled the golden key which arrived with her letter from her pocket and unlocked the door with a click.

Jorunn stepped inside the building, closing the door behind her. In the center of the room was a large wooden table and some chairs. The only person in the room with her was a man dressed like a typical American cowboy.

"A Dragonologist?" She wondered. Not knowing what to say, she simply gave the man a curt nod before taking a seat in one of the chairs.

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

Sydney, Australia: August 21st 1892

Sugarplum was well trained enough not to shy at blood, but Cathal thought the little chestnut mare gave him a disapproving look at his broken nose all the same.

"You should see the other fellow, love," Cathal told her, tightening his girth and patting her flank. His boxing matches were always better when he won, of course, but even losing could be fun too. Especially when there was somebody happy to offer consolations after.

Sugarplum pinned her ears and stomped at him.

"I'm getting, I'm getting," Cathal told her, and went to get the mare's bridle. Instead, he found a man with a letter entering the stable.

"You looking to post that?" Cathal called to him. "You're in the right place. Cathal McKay, courier. I'll take it anywhere it needs to get in the Blue Mountains."

"Cathal McKay?" the man with the letter repeated. "Then I think it's gotten as far as it needs to go."

Cathal frowned at him and took the letter. It was indeed addressed to him, and he popped it open with his knife, and read it once, and then twice.

"Well," he said, looking at Sugarplum. "It looks like we aren't going home, love."

San Francisco: September 27th 1892

Cathal wasn't sure he liked America much, or at least not San Francisco. What were they doing, building a city on all these hills? He scooted out of the way and checked his map again, breathing harder than he liked. He was all out of breath, after being at sea so long. He missed Sydney, where he knew every street and alley. He missed the mountains even more. He missed his mob. He missed his ma.

But mostly, in this moment, he missed his horse.

At least his nose had mostly healed, though the black eyes still lingered. He shrugged to himself. If Dr. Drake wanted respectable dragonolgists, he ought to have stuck with the English sort.

Eventually he found the unmarked brick house, and slipped inside. There were two other people there--one dressed not so differently from himself, the other dressed much too warmly, he thought.

"G'day, friends," Cathal said brightly, closing the door with his boot heel and strolling in. "Are we Dr. Drake's mob, or are there more of us, we reckon?"

 

[Tombstone]

Not long after Alan had seated himself, Eugene Burnham went up a set of stairs to find the private study on the floor above. Goodnight had been filled in on most of the details while on the train ride over, but everyone else who’d be attending still hadn’t been fully briefed. Alan reckoned that Eugene was gathering his things to do just that.

After some time had passed, a woman opened the door and let herself on in. She was young and fair, probably around Alan’s age give or take a few years. She wasn’t dressed for the city, no, she was dressed to be out and about in the country side.

It was fair to say that her surprise when she saw Goodnight slightly amused him. From the accent, he could tell she came from Northern Europe. That must have made her Hanna Jorunn, the teams frost Dragon expert. Alan did not know much about the particulars of her work before, but Burnham had given him a bit of info.

Goodnight looked at her and tilted his hat. “Ma’am,” he said greeting her. But before he could continue, the Aussie entered. Cathal McKay, had to have been based on the accent. Goodnight could keep from chuckling when he saw the man. It was the black eye, that gave Alan a good feeling about him.

“More’s a coming. I reckon were here just a bit early.” Alan smirked just a bit, “Hanna Jorunn and Cathal McKay Im assuming? Good to have ya’ll join us. Names’ Goodnight, Alan Tiberius Goodnight…..” he then looked the woman in the eyes, “And yeah, Im a Dragonologist with the ADA. We do things just a bit different than the SASD.”

“And you my friend,” Goodnight said turning to face Cathal, while simultaneously pointing to his own eye which mirrored Cathal’s black one, “Glad to see someone who can handle themselves when things get rough. Hope the other guy got it worse."

Kazig wickedlittlecritta

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

"Good to meet you both," Cathal said brightly, making his way over to where Goodnight sat. "Oh, it was all good fun," he continued in answer. "We can't win 'em all, can we? But you should've seen the fella. Neck like a bull," he said proudly.

 

[Kazig]

"Nice to meet you, it's always a pleasure to meet other Dragonologists," Hanna said, removing her hat. Hanna shifted in her seat uncomfortablely. She was a little unnerved by the familiarity the two men had with fighting. She hoped that wouldn't be required in whatever the doctor had summoned them for.

"The ADA?," she asked turning to Goodnight, "Pardon my ignorance, I haven't done much work with others of our profession, but I can't say I'm familiar with that group. Are they connected to the SASD or are they another division entirely?

 

[Juju]

Crawford Manor, London: September 4, 1892

The rain pattered against the window in a steady thrum, trailing minute veins of water down the colored glass. Sleeping contently below it was the curled up form of a wyvern hatchling, blissfully safe from the storm outside. Zabi was his name, and he had spent most of the day absolutely mesmerized by the twisting of the trees outside. It wasn't until it grew too dark too see past the hearth's reflection that he grew bored and eventually gave into sleep.

Jayne on the otherhand had been nose-deep in dusty tombs, thumbing through manual after manual on advanced dragon caretaking. She had been training for over a year now, but she didn't want to stop at just the basics. True mastery took more than that and she, Jayne Crawford, was determined to surpass even that. Now, to memorize the 53 substitutes for Dragon Linctus...

She was already through half of them when the door to her office opened and in came a sharp looking woman with mousy hair. "Good evening, Mrs. Pierce." Jayne said without looking up from her study. Mrs. Pierce took off her hat and shook off the rain with a disapproving flick, sending a tiny cascade of droplets onto the floor. "Why I should think it's a dreadful evening! Rain, rain and more rain; its simply ghastly! There's been naught but a spot of sun in the past week thanks to this bloody storm!"

Jayne scribbled down something in her book, gave the housekeeper a half-amused glance, then continued her transcription. "You know, in Africa such rains as these are considered blessed by the locals. A gift, if you would."

"Hmph! Well the Afrikans are most welcome to take it if they so please! I would be more than happy to trade it for an endless summer!" she gave a scoff before she walked up to the desk, making a slight detour to avoid the lion skin in the center of the floor (she was terrified of it though would never admit to the fact). When she stopped in front of the desk she placed upon it an envelope sealing in crimson wax. "For you, my dear" she said.

After considering it for a moment, Jayne placed down her book and inspected the envelope. She recognized the seal immediately. "When was this sent?"

"Just this morning, apparently. Boy said it was important."

Pulling open a drawer, Jayne retrieved an ivory letter opener and broke the seal. Her eyes flickered amber in the firelight as they skimmed over the words, neat yet written in haste. Once finished she looked up. "The doctor?"
"Word is he left in a hurry on the first vessel out. Though I can't imagine a single sane person willing to traverse the waters in this weather!"
"I can't say it was without reason..." Jayne mumbled, frowning at the contents of the letter. Troubling, very troubling indeed. "Drake... how did you let this happen?'
"Oh and another thing. That Chastain lady was looking for you... again. I swear that woman is a nosy little weasel. Did I tell you I found her sneaking in the back lot one morning?"
Jayne gave a soft chuckle. "I will invite her over tomorrow. Oh and one more thing Mrs. Pierce."
"Yes?"
"I need you to place orders for a few provisions... I'm going to America."


San Fransico: September 27, 1892

From the carriage window Jayne could see the city of San Fransico unrolling before her; a butchershop here, followed by a hatmaker and then a little bakery. She would hardly consider the city to be handsome, she decided, but she had to admit to the charm in its youth. The carriage jarred when it rolled over a hole, resulting in an alarmed squawk from her handbag. It shifted nervously but a soft pat from Jayne was enough to still the tiny dragon inside. "Hush, little prince." she said in a soft tone. "We are almost to our destination."

Once he had calmed down Jayne looked across the carriage to the dainty woman opposite to her. "Have you any more news about the incident in South America?" she asked the brunette above the plodding of hooves. It had been almost a month and yet there was still no word from the doctor.

seasonedcat

 

[seasonedcat]

Eleonore wrote inside her journal as she waited for the carriage to stop. She had seen communities such as this one many times so the initial wonder had long left her mind after her many travels. Her pen glided across the page with ease as she wrote in perfect handwriting about the next post of her newspaper. Even if she traveled she had friends back home who wrote local news while she was absent, and she sent her own foreign news via mail.

Eleonore's brows creased as her pen stopped gliding. She tapped her pen lightly against her lipstick covered lips causing a small oil residue upon the thin stick that went unnoticed by it's holder. Letting out an annoyed sigh Eleonore gently fixed her hair as she attempted to think of what to write next. 'Thus the effects of the Ivory trade" no, too main stream. The Ivory trade is not only effecting the elephants it is also decreasing the population of African Wyvern due to the lack of their food's population. On top of that the African Wyverns are also being hunted. This putting two important species in danger of extinction. Ergo the stopping of the Ivory Trade is in dire need.'

Perfect! Eleonore wrote down the thoughts quickly, happy to be writing. She glanced up at her partner at the sound of her voice. Stopping her pen's motion she spoke, "I do not believe so. My connections have been so terrible about this incident it is embarrassing. But that in itself tells us something. The person who committed the theft is either a master thief, or has as many connections around the world as myself. I am unsure which scenario would be worse."
Juju

 

[Juju]

Jayne stared out beyond the window thoughtfully while she listened to Eleonore's words. They would have to be a master thief indeed if they were to know the whereabouts of the artifacts, let alone bypass their defenses. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the thought of what was to come. The doctor might have rushed to South America, but for the rest of them it had been nearly a month of inactivity. A lot of things could happen in that time and Jayne was never one to allow head-starts.

While observing a group of kids chase each other down the street, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the window and gave it a curious glance. "Indeed it is difficult to determine the lesser of the two evils, but I cannot help but wonder if this thief-mastermind was one of our own. It would explain this hush-hush." she said in response to Eleonore.

Towards the end of her proposition, the carriage came to a stop and so too did the sound of creaky wheels and hoof beats. Jayne clasped her hands together and with a smile said, "Wonderful, we are here already!". She waited for the coachman to open up the doors before she stepped out with her handbag. In front of her was a reddish brick building with little other distinguishing features, but she knew it was the S.A.S.D safe-house. She glanced up at it while the coachman unloaded both her and Eleonore's bags and placed them neatly on the street beside them. When he had finished she bid him good-day, gave him a generous tip, and watched him leave. Only once he was out of sight did she enter the building with her two bags.

What she found was a spacious room with a table in its center. Sat around it were faces she did not recognize, though she knew they must be the other experts... though the one with the blackened eye raised a few questions.

"Good afternoon." Jayne said matter-of-factly, ignoring her questions for now. "If this is indeed the right location then I do believe a few introductions are in order. My name is Jayne Crawford and this fine lady is my associate Madame Eleonore Chastain. We look forward to working with you." Her heels clicked as she crossed the floor and offered her hand to the nearest person, the other holding on to her handbag. (Whoever responds first ;P heheh)

seasonedcat Tombstone wickedlittlecritta Kazig

 

[Kazig]

"Pleasure to meet you Madam Crawford and Chastain, my name is Hanna Jorunn, and I do believe you have the right location." Hanna said, shaking her hand giving a polite smile. She had felt a surge of relief when she saw the two ladies walk in, she was beginning to worry she'd be the only lady here! They were both very finely dressed and she immediately suspected that these were women of class or wealth.

"Pardon my asking, but are you anymore aware of the purpose of this meeting than I am? The good doctor neglected to mention the exact number of dragonologists attending and was vague about the purpose of our gathering." Hanna said, looking a tad embarrassed over her ignorance regarding the situation.

Juju

 

[seasonedcat]

Elonore entered the building along side her partner, smiling to the people who had arrived when Jayne introduced her. She counted the people who were in the room at the moment and almost frowned. There wasn't many of them and she feared that there would most likely not be many more of them arriving anytime soon. This would make this mission more difficult then it already currently was. There is no saying who the person responsible for the theft was, and something told her that the others in this room would have trouble conversing with civilians to get the information.

Her attention was grabbed by one of the people speaking the room. "Pleasure to meet you also Miss Jorunn. It is also a great relief to know we have the right location, it would be a thorn in the side if we would have to search for the location," Elonore let out a light laugh at this, "And the question of how much more information lies in the question of how much information you know. But by the way the letters were kept on the down low we can only assume there is not a lot of us coming as to keep a form of stealth."
Kazig Juju

 

[wickedlittlecritta]

"Ladies," Cathal said, tipping his hat at the newcomers. They seemed to be a very different sort of dragonologist from Alan and himself, and even from Hanna. It made him a little nervous, truth be told. "I get the feeling the good doctor's keeping his cards close for the moment." Honesty, he couldn't believe they'd been told as much as they had--if the wrong person had intercepted one of the letters, there would be some very interesting gossip.

 

[Elowyn]

Slightly out of breath, Izabell fiddled with the key until the doors of the safe house were opened. The familiarity of it all washed over her. She was sure that her former mentor had been busy in the years she had been gone to asia, and a part of her was excited to meet him.

She held a particular fondness for the one who unlocked the world of dragons for her, and then handed her the key to pursue her highest passions. The other parts of her were preoccupied in a fit of worry. The artifacts were of inestimable value and hardly could be replaced. If they were lifted from their vaults, who knew what else this thief -- or thieves, one should not jump to conclusions -- as capable of or what they'd set their sights on next. They could hardly be your run of the mill burgular or petty theif. Those vaults were rigged with the best security protocols available to Dr. Drake and she knew he treasured them immensely.

She was surprised by the female to male ratio in the room, but quickly her shock softened to delight. This, for one, was a room that did not restrict ladies to the domestic aspects of life. It was a rare thing and another reason why she respected Ernst.

"Hello," she greeted them with a wave. "Pardon my lateness."

 

[Kazig]

Hanna felt wave of delight upon the entry of this latest arrival. Though she held a distinct preference for working alone, and truth be told the ever expanding team was putting her a bit on edge, it was always a pleasure to see another lady in this profession.

"It's no trouble, you have still arrived before the professor could." Hanna said, giving the newcomer a smile, "Since you're here, I presume you're a Dragonologist as well?"
Elowyn

 

[Elowyn]

A country girl with an outdoorsy vibe from her outfit greeted her first. Izabell gave her a reserved smile. "True. And yes, I am.

"To be clear, I was just on my way to the island nation of Japan to study ryuu before I was accosted by the urgent letter. And then, of course, I had to take time to voyage back to the States." She studied the others as well, wondering about each one of them. They all seemed very different from each other, and painted a rather odds and ends type of picture. Yet they had that singular unifying trait between them all: a passion for dragons. And that was good enough for Izabell D'Aragne. She took the last vacant seat at the table and waited.