En se déplaçant à un rythme mesuré et régulier, William Mycroft regarda attentivement le HMS Pegasus se rapprocher, les yeux prenant dans tous les détails qu'il pouvait discerner. Alors qu'il s'approchait du gangplank, sa progression ralentit, ce qui lui permet d'examiner plus longtemps sa nouvelle affectation. Le navire était, même d'un coup d'œil, contrairement à tout autre qu'il n'avait jamais vu, encore moins servi. Armor plaqué, le brick était censé être à la fois plus rapide et plus dur que d'autres dessins, un vrai bruissement de foudre s'il avait jamais posé les yeux sur un. Son plus gros problème, cependant, était le charbon; Tout cette armure n'a pas laissé beaucoup de place pour le stockage du charbon, ce qui est ce que la plupart de ces petits navires utilisaient pour maintenir les chaudières. Les magiciens, a déclaré la pensée traditionnelle, étaient pour Man 'o Wars et de tels, pas pour les petits vaisseaux. Le charbon était suffisant pour eux, pas besoin de consacrer même un magicien, encore moins une équipe.
C'est pourquoi il était très inhabituel qu'il se retrouve ici. La logique était bonne, bien sûr; Sans beaucoup de stockage de charbon, l'amiral avait besoin d'une autre source de combustible à bord si ce n'était pas suffisant. Le choix logique était un magicien, mais au lieu d'envoyer le minimum habituel d'un équipage de trois hommes, ils l'ont envoyé. Il avait eu un vrai choc sur celui-là, presque étouffé sur son café. Plus il a entendu parler de ce poste, plus il a eu un sentiment de naufrage à ce sujet. Mycroft avait été assez bon pour garder sa tête baissée, mais Trafalgar... le capitaine Martin n'avait pas acheté son explication de sa localisation, et ils le savaient tous les deux. Tellement pour ne pas se démarquer.
C'est pas bon de réfléchir.
Mains dans les poches de son manteau, il a remarqué qu'il avait atteint le gangplank quelques instants auparavant, et s'était arrêté à la fin de celui-ci. Secouant la tête, comme si ses muses étaient des toiles d'araignée qu'il pourrait déloger, il a commencé l'ascension, mettant le pied sur le pont du navire peu de temps plus tard, bottes frappant contre le pont tranquillement. Le smog habituel tournait autour, mais après quelques années, il était juste attendu. Vingt-huit canons, par son compte, et ce qui ressemblait à des fusils batling dans quelques endroits. Oui, le Pegasus était une nouvelle race en effet.
Ses yeux n'ont pas eu à errer longtemps pour remarquer le rassemblement quelque peu éclectique d'individus autour d'une figure centrale, clairement le capitaine Lorraine, à en juger par sa robe, présente sur le prédateur. Mieux vaut signaler sa présence, remettre ses papiers, et cetera, et cetera. Plus vite il l'a fait, plus vite il pouvait se mettre sous les ponts et voir quoi, et avec qui, il travaillerait pendant toute la durée de son séjour. En vérité, le "qui" était plus important. Il pourrait s'adapter à différents équipements. Mais ces petits vaisseaux... les magiciens n'étaient pas à bord d'habitude, et étant une source d'énergie vivante à bord d'un navire où de telles personnes étaient attendues ont donné assez de gens lésés, il espérait vraiment qu'un manque de familiarité n'indiquerait pas une abondance de préjugés.
Mais s'y tenir ne changerait rien d'une façon ou d'une autre. Il est temps de se concentrer.
Il traversa le pont jusqu'au prédateur, se déplaçant à un rythme rapide mais mesuré, s'arrêtant à une distance respectueuse, mains encore dans ses poches. Le capitaine avait déjà une conversation; Butting in ne serait pas poli, et en jugeant par les rangs apparents de ceux impliqués, pourrait en fait être carrément stupide. Il parlait quand on lui parlait.
Name: William A. Mycroft
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Nationality: British
Occupation: Magician
Biography: William A. Mycroft, for much of his early life, led a distinctly undistinguished life. Son of a British merchant, he never really met his mother, nor did his father ever comment on her, though what little is certain is that the elder Mycroft returned from a trip to the New World with his son, only an infant, in tow. William fit in well for the first few years of his life, no different from any other child. That changed, however, when, quite by accident, it was discovered that he had an inherent aptitude for the use of magic. Though they were initially quite successful at hiding it, word of mouth spread quickly, and it wasn't long before most of his little corner of London knew, or suspected, that little William was a magician. It wasn't long past that when he found that not many of his former friends wanted to be around him anymore.
It never really bothered him, though. His father ran a book shop, and he simply turned instead towards the friends he might find in the pages of a book, or the accounts of times long gone. It wasn't hard to find papers written on the study of magic, either, and these he read with particular appetite. At the age of ten, he had begun experimenting with his abilities, testing his limits and becoming quite inventive in the use of them. He'd always had a particular affinity for fire, something that proved to be more than a little handy in keeping the home warm in winter and in general use in day to day life. He was always quiet about it, but he didn't hide it, either; If a business denied him entrance, he would simply find one that would serve him. If he was mocked, he ignored it. Public sentiment was easy to ignore, as long as he wasn't showing off exactly what he could do. And so it was that by the time William had reached the age of adulthood he was better read than some minor lordlings' sons, and equipped with an attitude that made it very hard to anger him, combined with a friendliness that made it hard to dislike him in the first place. That's not to say it was never an issue; Being one of the known magicians of a region tends to make one a target. For the first few years of his adulthood, he spent what spare time he had continuing his self-education with regards to magic. Essays, studies, theory, he read it all, much of it carried across the sea from the New World, where things weren't quite as restrained.
It took him a while, but eventually, William looked outside the realm of his own study. Europe wasn't in good shape, nd while Napoleon marched across the continent, he simply stayed inside his world of theory and thought. He'd spent most of his life harnessing the power he had, refining it, working to make it better. It was pointless if he didn't use it to do a ittle good, despite the stigma that magicians often held in the view of the common people. He enlisted in the Royal Navy, assigned to crew the boilers of one of their Man 'o Wars alongside a crew of other magicians.
The reality of the job was very different from what he'd anticipated. The skill level of his compatriots varied wildly, the only really consistent factor being that they all knew how to use magic to run a boiler. Outside of that, they ranged from highly practiced, if not all that well-read in the academi side of things, to barely knowing how to manage a stiff breeze. None of them were too eager to try and be much else, either; His first few months were full of attempts to reform the systems in place, discuss how to make it all more efficient. While many of the engineers were happy to listen, if only to learn about what they might be able to integrate later, on the whole no one was interested. And so, after a while, he simply gave up, and resigned himself to the undignified role of human power factory.
While that carried on for a few years, and across multiple ships, it was not an attitude that would be able to survive the battle of Trafalgar. William Mycroft was, at the time, assigned to a much smaller vessel, and as such, one outfitted with a much smaller team of magicians. Two individuals, plus William himself. He spent most of the early portion of the battle manning his shift at the boilers, while above-decks, the ship managed to get itself embroiled in a rather dicey section of the fighting. Distinctly outgunned, the ship was taking more of a beating than its captain wanted to admit. It is here that things take an odd turn; In the words of the captain, one Alistair Martin, "It was rather like, for this one little section of the sky, the Lord decided that he was indeed British and began to act accordingly." Wind, fire, and a few notable lightning bolts, did their best to wreak havoc on the enemy vessels, and doing a fair bit of damage. If nothing else, the sudden turn of nature bought the ship enough time to start hitting back. When the battle died down, the captain was curious about what was very clearly unnatural intervention; But when he reached the boilers, the two magicians not currently assigned to that task were operating them. When asked, they replied that William had talked them into it, saying that he needed to lend a hand elsewhere. When William did turn up, he was helping out the ship's engineer. Such a claim was notable tenuous, however, given how exhausted he was. To say that the Captain was fooled would be distinctly false, but he chose not to press the matter.
Weapon of choice: William carries a single pistol as his sidearm. The weapon has never been used in combat, and he quite suspects that it wouldn't be even in a fight.
Magic: Magicians, historically, have had a track record of being a monarch's preferred method to maintain control. Despite this negative light, William has always been fascinated by the powers he found himself with, and he eagerly learned anything he could about them, both in theory and in practice. Though he is particularly handy with fire, he has taught himself a reaosnable degree of control over most of the forces of nature, though water is something he struggles with more than the others. He doesn't exactly advertise his level of profficiency, however, a habit from his earlier years that he's never really shaken.
Appearance: Slightly taller than average, William Mycroft is of a mildly athletic build. His dark brown hair tends to be quite straight, and is eternally at just below the maximum length allowed by military regulation. He is always clean shaven, and if he's not, that's the first sign that something is quite amiss. His face is set in an almost perpetual smile, and a rather infetious one at that, something rather unusual for one of society's least popular types of people. Set above that smile, his eyes are a deep shade of blue. William is usually clad in a military-style long coat, gray in color, though when working belowdecks this is usually cast aside. His normal attire consists of simple trousers supported by a belt meant to hold anything he finds it necessary to carry, a plain white shirt, boots, and when working with the boilers, gloves.
Orientation/Relationship Status: Straight, Single
Audition:
"This isn't your ship anymore, Magician."
Standing at the docks, coat over his arm and a very perplexed expression on his face, William Mycroft was currently engaged in a conversation with his, apparently former, superior officer. Just beyond them was the ship that he had been serving on since Trafalgar, and the one that he had assumed he would still be serving on after his shore leave.
Apparently not.
"Sir, I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean."
"I mean you've been reassigned." The man opposite him seemed rather amused, truth be told, as he reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a small bundle of papers. "These got handed down the chain of command while you were away. Reassigned to the HMS Pegasus, which according to these, you're to report to later this week."
"Reassigned to the- Pardon me for asking, sir, but why? I've been doing my job here for a good long while now, and one magician seems to be as good as another when it comes to being a living fuel source."
"That's not accurate, and you know it, Mycroft." The officer raised an amused eyebrow, holding out the papers. "None of us are that daft; We've got a pretty good idea of what you don't say. Reassignment's nothing to do with me, but the captain didn't seem very surprised. Go on, get out of here. You'll want to read up on where you'll be serving, I'm sure."