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MildmanneredRedSonja
Star
- Joined
- Jun 16, 2017
The city of Buffalo, New York was one of the few cities that existed in a myriad of realities. In some realities, it remained a French outpost, in others a bustling American urban center, and in some others, a city occupied by British Forces after a different ending of the War of 1812.
In the reality of one Cornelius Stanford, the Buffalo of New York, as it stands in his reality of 1865, is one of the furthest points west of the British Colonies. Most of the Americas, both North and South, remain wild and rugged. New Orleans exists at the mouth of the Mississippi, and there are a few Spanish outposts in the Caribbean and Latin America, but most of the Americas (outside of the British colonies in northeastern North America) remain in control of the indigenous peoples. All sorts of wild rumors abound about what lies beyond the European outposts, everything from fabulous treasures to horrific beasts, but the number of Europeans who have actually penetrated into the Americas and returned are few and far between.
This was about to change.
For the last half century, Buffalo, New York was a major trading post as well as a staging point for expeditions, great and small, into the interior of North America. Both canal and railroad traffic plied between Buffalo and the major port cities on the Atlantic.
And now the dirigible had come to Buffalo.
Since 1850, the dirigible had been plying over the skies of Europe. Cargo ships, passenger ships, military ships...even pleasure ships for royalty and the wealthy.
And a few well to do explorers had brought them to America.
The results had been mixed. Great swaths of territory had been mapped, but a good number of dirigibles had been lost. Some to weather or flying too low over hostile indigenous populations.
And some to causes too wildl to believe.
But still people wanted to know what laid just beyond the horizon.
Which is where Cornelius Stanford came in. He had been hired to pilot a large airship over the Caribbean and parts of South America. Which was well and good, except he had holdings in North America that needed looking after.
And so Cornelius was waiting for a friend of his in a higher end tavern in Buffalo New York, so that said friend could be talked into watching after Cornelius' North American holdings while Cornelius went south for a paycheck.
In the reality of one Cornelius Stanford, the Buffalo of New York, as it stands in his reality of 1865, is one of the furthest points west of the British Colonies. Most of the Americas, both North and South, remain wild and rugged. New Orleans exists at the mouth of the Mississippi, and there are a few Spanish outposts in the Caribbean and Latin America, but most of the Americas (outside of the British colonies in northeastern North America) remain in control of the indigenous peoples. All sorts of wild rumors abound about what lies beyond the European outposts, everything from fabulous treasures to horrific beasts, but the number of Europeans who have actually penetrated into the Americas and returned are few and far between.
This was about to change.
For the last half century, Buffalo, New York was a major trading post as well as a staging point for expeditions, great and small, into the interior of North America. Both canal and railroad traffic plied between Buffalo and the major port cities on the Atlantic.
And now the dirigible had come to Buffalo.
Since 1850, the dirigible had been plying over the skies of Europe. Cargo ships, passenger ships, military ships...even pleasure ships for royalty and the wealthy.
And a few well to do explorers had brought them to America.
The results had been mixed. Great swaths of territory had been mapped, but a good number of dirigibles had been lost. Some to weather or flying too low over hostile indigenous populations.
And some to causes too wildl to believe.
But still people wanted to know what laid just beyond the horizon.
Which is where Cornelius Stanford came in. He had been hired to pilot a large airship over the Caribbean and parts of South America. Which was well and good, except he had holdings in North America that needed looking after.
And so Cornelius was waiting for a friend of his in a higher end tavern in Buffalo New York, so that said friend could be talked into watching after Cornelius' North American holdings while Cornelius went south for a paycheck.