Welcome to Gaia! ::

((

I'm assuming some kinda body gaurd? I'd like to fill that bill, if it's allright with you. If not then put me down for engineer, whichever suits your RP the best.))

Upon contact with the mysterious Cheshire, there is indeed a seperate Pilot option, so I defer the roll of Captain to you.

Dash sat in the shade of the airship's massive baloon enjoying a stubby, foul smelling cigar as he watched the slowly swaying head ropes that dangled from it's round bulk like the trailing streamers of a willow tree. He was stretched out full length on the port side deck, his feet proped up on a small wire table and his lanky length slumped into a reclining deck chair as he puffed away, the grey clouds of smoke blowing away in the slight head wind to join the fluffy sea through wich they were traveling.
Seated as he was it was clear that he was a tall man, perhaps six feet, and anyone who had seen him shirtless in the South American heat could attest to the breadth of his shoulders and the muscled cut of his frame. He wasn't thick or bulky, but had the whip thin strenght of a man raised on action. His face was thin and clever, with thick eyebrows over piercing eyes and high cheek bones. An unkempt mop of straight, black hair stuck out from under his tilted forward bowler hat that flowed into long sideburns and a cleanshaven countenance.
An excelent job. He thought, taking a sip of his glass of gin. A vacation to the Americas, a nice, relaxing airship ride. He tilted up the brim of his hat to glance appreciatively at a passing stewardess. And some excelent company. For what? Just to babysit the explorer and safe gaurd that odd skull. A nice easy job. Perfect.

OOC: Could I join in one of the Gunner positions?

Franz sat on the railling of the deck, his legs weaving in the railling itself to keep him from falling if the ship should pitch. It was a precarious perch, but Franz didn't have his job because he was sane. He wore a pair of heavy boots and some fine black trousers over which he hade a belt of bullets with a revolver at each thigh in the American style. He had on an open bush jacket ov a white, rough cotton shirt.

He reached up with a hand, idly tugging at his bowler hat. It was wore back, resting on the back of his head. The hatband was tooled leather, which connected to a pair of goggles that passed through holes in the brim to attach to a pair of goggles that rested on his forehead. His features were hawkish, with a long, sharp nose and dark, piercing eyes.

He turned his attention as the explorer walked on deck. "Hallo there," he called out, giving a small wave.

Mark busied himself with the controls of the Airship for a moment, checking everything was sure, and nothing was awry. They had come to far with this explorer to crash now becuase of some misapplied steering.
Sure that everything was sound, you took a momentary break; as long as they hit no turbulence, there was little need to remain at the controls forever!
He grabbed his goggles from a peg on the side, placing them over his eyes to protect from the wind. They were not the type one would expect a pilot to wear, more like an Engineers, but they seemed to compliment the rest of his outfit well. He wore a plain white shirt, along with a similarly plain pair of trousers. On top of that was a leather jacket - which seemed to have entirely too many pockets, all filled with some variety of trinket or tool. Oddly, it all seemed very smart when he wore it.
Noticed others seemed to be lingering on the outside deck, he vertured out to join them - immediately thankful of his goggles as the wind whipped is brown hair across his face.
"Ah, Miss Halvorsen, I hope this trip is to your satisfaction. Please, do not pay much heed to Franz - his sanity is.. questionable, but you get used to him."

OOC: I would jsut like to point out, for the sake only of avoiding any possible confusion, that this character is not me in any other capacity.