levana remember when you redo it to put the cargo ship pic here
The First Astarese Tramuntanic Expedition was proposed with the most noble of intentions- to bring Astarey prestige, and hopefully support in its now decades-long fight against the Meridian Commonwealth. Astarey, being a minor power at the time (as it remains), had never reached Tramuntana before- indeed, its only polar expertise rested in a series of attempts to penetrate the pack ice of the Great Southern Ocean. These attempts culminated in one ill-fated expedition undertaken in late 1863 aboard the New Sêlladic Empire frigate Stella- one of the first voyages to reach what is now Sentinel Island. The events that followed are generally considered to be a major reason for the Enclave's current ownership of Sentinel Island and its use as a penitentiary; and the few who escaped returned after a harrowing winter journey to discover that their homeland was under Kkhanoese occupation.
120 years later, the Commonwealth of Astarey- relatively rich in the early 80s, with limited support from countries opposed to the Meridian Commonwealth- sought to continue the Astarese tradition of polar exploration with a well-equipped journey to reach the North Pole in the heart of Tramuntana. They assembled a squadron of cargo ships filled with supplies to enable a trip from the far Tramuntanic coast due north of Anteria to its center and to the coast again. After leaving Aruda in May 1983, hoping to spend enough time travelling that it would be summer in Tramuntana by the time they arrived, one ship of the expedition was diverted off-course due to a major hurricane- leading it to travel south, where it was trapped in the southern pack ice like their forebears. They escaped within a week, however, and finally met up with the others in relatively friendly Port Finias in Iarthar in August. They took a circuitous route north, forcing them to overwinter in Anteria before proceeding in May 1984 reinvigorated and resupplied.
The little fleet- led by Fleet Cargo Ship #6, nicknamed "Old Fesîba"- was repeatedly waylaid by the thick ice of the Tramuntanic coast, with their original planned landing site ultimately deep in a hard-to-cross ice shelf. The ships got stuck again attempting to draw back and head to a secondary site, though plans to disembark there and set up anyway fell through due to a breakthrough in the ice. Eventually, though, Old Fesîba finally made landfall in a relatively ice-free region of the Marege' coast in July. The ship's cranes luckily still functioned, and soon Research Base "Little Astarey" was operational- though they quickly discovered why the Marege' coast was ice-free. The nearby plateau, while blocking the advance of glaciers, also blocked most progress north- and the remainder of the ice was swept away by strong winds. Nonetheless, they used large 'Turtle' vehicles supplied to the expedition to press north- taking various desperate measures to make the smooth-tyred machines cooperate with the snow- until one was lost in a crevasse, presumed crushed.
The other returned to Little Astarey, and instead plans were made to use dogsleds to travel- though the 'Turtle' still found use establishing a near-ice supply shack and carrying the sleds as far as possible. The sleds would be supported by aircraft to assist them and provide supplies, as well as evacuate those unfit to continue on. This was very useful when several members of the expedition contracted scurvy, which could not be treated with the supplies of liver and later dog meat available. However, as the expedition reached a range of mountains on the way to the pole the aircraft's engine froze over after landing- unable to restart it, the plane's crew joined in. By August they had managed to crest the mountain range, and finding this a useful place to stop (and extremely difficult to proceed further from) set up a forward base. Most of the expedition left to retrieve further supplies from the ships at the shore.
By the time they managed to return- facing further troubles, and only surviving due to a lucky discovery of supplies left by their comrades- it was October, and temperatures were dropping ever-further. They discovered an abandoned forward base, empty of people and with prepared rations now rotted on the tables, with no sign of where their comrades had gone. A concerted search discovered the remains of one expedition member, either buried or driven by the madness that comes upon those trapped in the cold to burrow; a few tins of spoiled meat, and stated they had seen and heard one of the few remaining dogs of the expedition- though, they say, it wandered off later. Demoralized, they started back to the ships- and ran into even more problems. By now the crew were delirious and low on supplies, struggling to make their way back. Several times expedition leads declared they had found gold, only for it to be pyrite; the position of expedition lead changed each time. However, by some miracle, they managed to return to Old Fesîba- though the other ships had left to also bring resupply. Old Fesîba itself was stuck in the ice.
i'm stumbling through the snow as it gives way, tumbling, lost, alone, frozen; i can't see can barely think and all ahead is more snow. i can't remember where i am, and somewhere in me something screams that this is a symptom, that something has finally broken deep inside and we're at the end of the line. somehow, somehow, i keep moving; more snow collapsing overhead and by some miracle i break free and keep going. i feel impossible, i'm going to make it, i'm out of here- and it's cold all around, and the winds whip at me, and there's nothing but snow. but i have to keep moving. it's feeling hotter and hotter, something's on fire, someone--
and then i tumble one last time, and grab at the the- dirt. not snow. i touch my chest- cold, but not dead yet. i cough a few times, and turn my head- a meadow? like back home? i... i am among friends. i can see the great writhing coils of the sky, and somehow i know that i am home.
I am an explorer of the Astarese Navy Expeditionary, and I will press on until I can do so no longer. Trudging over the ice- I'm used to it. Being alone- I'm used to it. I can keep going forever, it feels, even as I take a last look at my empty tin of dog liver. My compass shivers in my hand- well, magnetic pole wasn't our aim, but if I can make it there that's all the better. I still have the flagpole, after all- it'll make a charming picture, my corpse next to a triumphant flag. Onward, then. But- eventually- something gives way beneath me, and somewhere inside me I can feel a voice say finally, I can give up. That's... that's not fair, I was supposed to make it, I
I look up. The sky is bounded.