If Mahan Could See Us Now

The streets of Polyapavlosk are almost deserted at sunrise, especially when the coldest of winds blows up across the Dakazyn Sea. It is the southernmost port-city in Kieva, a barely industrialised nation being dragged kicking and screaming into the next century by it's parliament, much to the chagrin of her King -much glory to him and long may he reign - and his cronies. At least the people are proud, you think, as you walk past a huddled group in thick coats battling against the foul weather to reach some unknown destination. You would pity them, but where you're going is no warmer. Pulling you coat closer around you hurry on, willing the distance to be shorter as the bitter cold nips at your cheeks.

The city was large and sprawling though little of it was dedicated to anything but the construction, servicing and upkeep of the fleet. People could be born, live and die in this place without seeing anything but navy grey and uniform green the entire time. The squadrons were always busy engaging in some foreign adventurism at the orders of the king and thus so were the cities that supplied them. So long as Kieva lived, the port-cities would never sleep.

The gates to the port itself were guarded at all hours by stony faced marines carrying short barreled carbines and wicked looking boarding sabres. A queue has already formed even this early, naval officers reporting for duty and a few seaman returning from a pass. You join the back of the queue and try not to think about how your eyelashes are trying to freeze shut while you wait.

Finally you reach the front and face the tall men with vicious weaponry that they'll wield at the slightest opportunity. Your attempt at a smile is met with blank faces as you dig your papers from your pocket and hand them over.

"State your name and station." The man looking over your papers states, less a question than a command, his voice as cold as the wind.

Who are you?
[ ] Starshi-Leytenant [write-in] Mikhailova, she's a nobody who was drawn to life at sea by promises of travel and adventure (++Technical, +Tactics, -Diplomacy)
[ ] Starshi-Leytenant [write-in] Sverdlova, a woman with an interesting past that she doesn't like to talk about (++Subterfuge, +Prowess, -Strategy)
[ ] Kapitan-Leytenant [write-in] Koroleva, She's a relative of a senior politician in the Parliament, wily and diplomatic (++Diplomacy, +Strategy, -Technical)
[ ] Kapitan-Leytenant [write-in] Kuznetsova, Daughter of a naval family, raised to serve at sea. Your name can bring as many enemies as it does allies. (++Prowess, +Diplomacy, -Subterfuge)

Kapitan-Leytenant Valentina Mikhailova
Diplomacy -2, Strategy 0, Tactics +1, Prowess 0, Subterfuge +1, Technical +2

Stress: -
Vices: Small Animals (Cats), Alcohol, Cigarettes

Command: Polyapavlosk Quartermaster and Victualling Headquarters

A new quest about boats and such with assistance from @Artificial Girl
Blame her.

"Starshi-Leytenant Valentina Mikhailova, Fourth Division, Eighth Pier." You recite, the same as you do every single time you pass through this gate. There are benefits to living off base but this isn't one of them. At least the officers who lived aboard ship never had to pass a gate guard or hike through the snow to start their day.

Eventually he gave a wordless nod and handed the papers back, waving you through without another word. You step through the gate as the same command was repeated to the next person in line and begin your long walk.

Offices, oil derricks, coaling sheds, warehouses and hangers; all were part of the scenery of your long walk between the gate and you station. You walk with your eyes on the ground, careful not to slip on slick asphalt and cobblestones, wary of patches of black ice. At least, you do until you turn a corner and reach your favourite part of the commute.

Sixth pier, two piers before you reach your own eighth, was the first you come to as you walk and just so happened to be the home of the battleship squadron stationed at Polyapavlosk. It is the highlight of your day when they were in port, as they were on this day. The first you pass is the big Evstafi with many turrets and sleek sides without the casemate guns that other ships carried to mar her perfect lines. Then the three funneled sisters, the Queen Elena and Queen Klementina, the two fast battleships with their single guns fore and aft. The last in the row was the smallest and oldest and yet certainly the most well known and prestigious. The Dvenadsat Apostolov flew the admiral's flag from it's tall mast, it's slim form secreting how successful it had been in combat against the Kievan's enemies.

The four ships were famous across Southern Kieva and much feared in the Dakazyn and beyond. You had grown up listening to stories of the Apostolov and the Evstafi looming from southern fog in pursuit of distant enemy cruisers, threading their way through ranks of merchant ships to ward off prowling attackers. Everyone who lived near the coast had a story, and now the sisters joined them. It was one of the reasons you joined up, the stories of the grand ladies of the sea.

After a long moments viewing, you give a wistful sigh and continue on with your cold walk. To serve on a ship such as those was surely every officers dream and yet it is a dream that seems to be out of reach for you. To serve at sea at all even is, your sad thoughts of broken dreams accompanying you all the way to your own command; the Polyapavlosk Quartermaster and Victualling Headquarters.

What landed you here?
[ ] You were, quite simply, never exemplary. (-Prowess)
[ ] You made a fool of yourself at a cadet ball. (-Diplomacy)
[ ] Your ability to command left something to be desired (-Tactics)
[ ] You never showed yourself to be anything but a decent administrator (-Subterfuge)