Well, they're not wrong, in local terms. His powers aren't strange at all where he's from; most good-sized towns will have at least one like him, there.

Huh. Sounds handy to have around. Are there things here has that there doesn't?

Oh, lots of things, technology mostly - guns and trains and sewing machines and whatever they're using to get their books written the way they are and so on, and also time as something you can buy and carry around and use, his world doesn't have anything like that.

They will attempt to explain the printing press.

The downed locomotive lets out a whistle and several people cheer! The Bohemian Captain presses a medium-sized pile of coins on Captain Abernathy ("you did the exact opposite of robbing us like I expected, take it, take it!"), who does the polite thing and refuses twice, then gratefully accepts.

A book press, what a clever idea. And the train is working, even better! Last call if any of the holdouts want to get a healing spell.

One of the holdouts will accept. The other two will keep their bruises.

Then they hike back to Abernathy's engine with a much lighter load than they came down with. Tine is leading a song about steam and soot and someone is supporting it with a harmonica. The downed engine trims a few trees on its way up, then gets clear of the mountain and turns back towards Port Propsper behind them.

Always good to see someone back on their way.

Captain Abernathy is tense as they get back into the air, but it goes smoothly.

"Does that count as a sacrament, I wonder?" He asks, at dinner that night.

"It does as far as I'm concerned, at least. I don't know much about how you do things here yet though."

"We don't do the same things we did twenty years ago, mostly. Churches and priests officiate major life events - marriage, births, deaths. There's a weekly sacrament where you eat bread and drink wine that is symbolically the flesh and blood of one part of God, the part that descended from Heaven and sacrificed himself to deliver humanity from Hell. Or it is told. They hold services once a week and dispense moral lessons and the truth, as they see it. So that all may be good in this life and find salvation in the next, is the idea. There are priest schools and they have their own bureaucracy and politics. Less so, these days, the Establishment's rise and the new discoveries and dangers in the Reach have eclipsed and fragmented the churches."

"That's not so different from where I'm from, most of it - for gods that have churches, anyway. I don't know how you manage with just one, though."

"There's more on the Surface. And traditions that believe in many gods. But the supposed miracles happened long ago, for the most part. The Judgements seem more real. I'm not sure Yahweh is a real being at all, personally, though don't let any priests hear I said that."

"I imagine if I end up talking to a priest we're going to be too busy to think of it. You seem to be doing all right, at least, gods or no."

"Glad to hear you approve. Hopefully it'll be smooth sailing the rest of the way to the Reserve, now."

"Here's hoping!"

The Nature Reserve landing area is a collection of slightly exotic-looking wooden huts scattered across a cliffy area, with a small maintenance bay built to a more practical design. There's a small restaurant and bar, a few tourists wandering around, and some scholarly types making observations. 

"We can probably find a good hunting party ashore. Those chaps look promising," he indicates a couple at the restaurant with two rifles of different designs sitting by their table, wearing practical-looking clothing in dull colors. "Maybe even trap something, caged catches sell quite well."

"I could go along with that," Raafi agrees. "I'm curious how you know what to do for anything you catch, though."

"For care and feeding, or for containment? A nice solid cage and chain will do for the latter, and most sky-things tend to be pretty resilient. There's bound to be someone with a few clues down at Capability's Inquest, the research base, though. A plain old hunt is fun enough without the added risk of live catch, anyway."

"Well, we can see what happens. We have a type of spellcaster who specializes in creature care, is why I ask, I was wondering if you had anything comparable, but I can fill in for one in a pinch if we do catch anything."

"Well, there are zoologists. Quite a lot of stripes of academics."

He debarks and starts ambling over towards the restaurant.

Raafi follows, looking around curiously as he does.

The forest off to the side is a riot of color. Not just browns and greens, but all manner of interesting flowers, vines, and fungus in the whole rainbow. The views of cliffs and misty valleys from here are pretty good as well.

"Hello!" Captain Abernathy booms. "I can only presume that the two of you are hunters. As it happens, we arrived just now, and are also hunters - at least for the day."

"Correct," the man replies. "Looking to form a proper party? Afraid we're on a break at the moment, but we were considering doing something later. Mr. and Mrs. Remington at your service. Gunsmiths by trade, as it happens."

"Why don't you sit over there and order some tea, we can chat for a while?" Mrs. Remington adds.

Tea sounds good. "So what kind of game should we expect to find, this time of year?" he asks, as much of Abernathy as the hunters.

"This part of the Reach doesn't really do seasons, I'm afraid. There's been lots of sightings of Heater Lizards lately, though. Very impressive coloration on one of those."

"Oh, that sounds exciting."