Intro - Embarking
- Location
- Germany
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=} The Thunder of Coins {=
Dieselpunk with Vampires, flying Trees and Igors - Oh my~!
=} The Thunder of Coins {=
Dieselpunk with Vampires, flying Trees and Igors - Oh my~!
The captain of your new ship looked as if he had jumped right out of a recruiting poster – or one of the romantic history books that were more akin to novels, that talked about the advent and rise of airships in the wars between the continents and the western Kingdoms. The blue of the Duchies armed forces beamed on his uniform and coat, the silver emblems of the Ducal Airship Fleet graced his peaked cap and his polished boots stood secure on the stage that had been erected on the landing field next to the airship that was going to be your home for the coming's weeks or months. His grandfatherly aura was enhanced by the wide and elaborate beard that graced both his lip and his chin, extending nearly down to his chest on the front, but cut with military precision to stop just above his rows of military awards and medals, while his walrus moustache, made the zoological name, quite proud. The pair of small glasses, fixed to his uniforms collar with a small silver chain, would have perfected the image of an elderly military man stuck in his classroom or office, but when he raised his voice, it echoed over the collection of soldiers of all ranks and specialities standing on the ground around you, even without the help of the microphone and speakers installed to his left and right:
"Soldiers! I am Captain Jan-Willem Groenstege, captain of the Duchess Own Patrol Vessel Zephyr. Some of you might have heard that we are a training ship – that is only partly true. All of you went through basic training and orientation already, no matter if you are an airship gunner, engineer, navigator or pilot. From now on all targets we will point you at will be dangerous and able to shoot back! All your work will guarantee or endanger the lives of your comrades and the whole ship. The Zephyr is an older ship compared to many in our fleet, but it has done its duty well for the better part of a generation and its missions today continue to be still dangerous and demanding of its crew, even if we are more likely to face pirates than outright military targets on our missions.
Your training is over – your real service has just begun. We are leaving New Boromih as soon as all crews are on their stations, for missions along the River of Myssek."
With this he gave a small nod and a stern looking man stepped forward on the ground below, his taut skin darkened not only from time and service underneath the unforgiving sun, but also some ancestry in the southern desert regions of the former Empire of Trubc. Looking around, mustering your group ranging from re-trained workman to young, barely adult engineers and officers, he took a deep breath and called out:
"I am Colonel Omar Akhrif, first officer of the Zephyr. You will embark onto the ship in order of your departments – Deck and Engineering!", he called out and blew a whistle: "Forward to Stations!", his voice rung out and the vast majority of the blue coated crewman with the light beige uniform tunics, turned to their left, shouldering equipment and rifles in their best parade formation, before marching towards the loaming hangars of the Zephyr, some of them holding on to their caps, the crossed hammer and spanner of their branch, shown off in bronze on its middle. Following them came the mixed groups of the Navigation, Medical and Supply Branches that would accompany the ship, a priest or two of some faith or another were also following the proceedings and embarking on the ship to make sure that the spiritual welfare of the three hundred souls that were going to call the ship their home, was to be guaranteed.
You were part of the next small group and Major Strindt had given all of you a heads up to fall in line, as the small group of twelve pilots pivoted on the spot and strode towards the belly of the airship, its guns towering above you and the holding hangars and lifts that would push you into actions extending to your left and right as you stepped into the ship proper.
Behind you the marching steps of the ship's paratrooper company could be heard, their dull breastplates matching their steel helmets as they marched onto the ship with their rifles on their shoulders and their officers on the front – and even some light machine guns in the back of the marching column. Before the block of suicidal jumpers could march/run you over, Major Strindt was already leading the group of you out of the general bustling and running, down a side corridor along the float stone core of the ship.
As you traversed the interior of steel and electrical light, the sounds from all around you begun to pick up: the faint voices of shouted orders, the loud explosions of the giant engines of the ships coming to life and the constant buzzing of the propellers as energy was diverted to them and the whole ship shook as they pushed it upwards, the molten floatstone core keeping the armoured ship above the ground as it begun to rise. You did get a perfect vantage point, when your short trek finally stopped at an observation platform on the lower side of the ship, orientated forward and set right towards the stern, below and before the hangars proper. It was a tight fit with all twelve of you, but it did give you a glance at the airfield as it begun to shrunk below, the streets and rivers getting ever smaller and smaller, soon resembling toys more than anything else, as the coastline of the island became visible and the Zephyr pushed forward past the city of New Boromih with the gleaming Ducal Palace and the long boulevards that had seen blood revolution only a century ago.
All of it gets smaller and finally disappears underneath the clouds from which the Zephyr breaks like a sailing ship of old broke through the waves trying to push it down: soon only fluffy white and blue seemed to fill the observation deck and the Major quickly showed the three different wings their way, sending them off to their quarters along the corridor: four pilots each and all four of them bunking together. Showers and Toilets were communal, and space was premium on the ship.
Finally, only the three of you were left standing, together with a slightly odd-looking female pilot, whose neck and most of her face were hidden by flying goggles and a long daring scarf, that clashed with its bright yellow against the dark blue of her uniform and the half-coat that was wrapped around her left arm, hiding it but hinting at a crippled limb or worse with the way she was holding it against herself. Reaching up to push a few errant black locks underneath her side cap, she looked at all three of you, before offering her hand with a smile:
"Flight Lieutenant Viviana Hagi, callsign Wendigo, I am going to command your wing for the duration of this year's campaign. Major Strindt told me that all three of you have excelled in Strafing training back at the academy, thus they wanted someone with experience in air-to-ground and plane-to-airship attacks to lead you through your first few missions. It's nice to meet you.", she said earnestly, before hoisting her bag with her right hand, smiling as she pushed open the door to the bunk room and made her way inside, claiming one of the upper beds, before asking:
"Do you want to have slimmed down mission briefing now – or does anyone feel like checking if the mess hall is already open and we can get something to drink, up there?"
"Soldiers! I am Captain Jan-Willem Groenstege, captain of the Duchess Own Patrol Vessel Zephyr. Some of you might have heard that we are a training ship – that is only partly true. All of you went through basic training and orientation already, no matter if you are an airship gunner, engineer, navigator or pilot. From now on all targets we will point you at will be dangerous and able to shoot back! All your work will guarantee or endanger the lives of your comrades and the whole ship. The Zephyr is an older ship compared to many in our fleet, but it has done its duty well for the better part of a generation and its missions today continue to be still dangerous and demanding of its crew, even if we are more likely to face pirates than outright military targets on our missions.
Your training is over – your real service has just begun. We are leaving New Boromih as soon as all crews are on their stations, for missions along the River of Myssek."
With this he gave a small nod and a stern looking man stepped forward on the ground below, his taut skin darkened not only from time and service underneath the unforgiving sun, but also some ancestry in the southern desert regions of the former Empire of Trubc. Looking around, mustering your group ranging from re-trained workman to young, barely adult engineers and officers, he took a deep breath and called out:
"I am Colonel Omar Akhrif, first officer of the Zephyr. You will embark onto the ship in order of your departments – Deck and Engineering!", he called out and blew a whistle: "Forward to Stations!", his voice rung out and the vast majority of the blue coated crewman with the light beige uniform tunics, turned to their left, shouldering equipment and rifles in their best parade formation, before marching towards the loaming hangars of the Zephyr, some of them holding on to their caps, the crossed hammer and spanner of their branch, shown off in bronze on its middle. Following them came the mixed groups of the Navigation, Medical and Supply Branches that would accompany the ship, a priest or two of some faith or another were also following the proceedings and embarking on the ship to make sure that the spiritual welfare of the three hundred souls that were going to call the ship their home, was to be guaranteed.
You were part of the next small group and Major Strindt had given all of you a heads up to fall in line, as the small group of twelve pilots pivoted on the spot and strode towards the belly of the airship, its guns towering above you and the holding hangars and lifts that would push you into actions extending to your left and right as you stepped into the ship proper.
Behind you the marching steps of the ship's paratrooper company could be heard, their dull breastplates matching their steel helmets as they marched onto the ship with their rifles on their shoulders and their officers on the front – and even some light machine guns in the back of the marching column. Before the block of suicidal jumpers could march/run you over, Major Strindt was already leading the group of you out of the general bustling and running, down a side corridor along the float stone core of the ship.
As you traversed the interior of steel and electrical light, the sounds from all around you begun to pick up: the faint voices of shouted orders, the loud explosions of the giant engines of the ships coming to life and the constant buzzing of the propellers as energy was diverted to them and the whole ship shook as they pushed it upwards, the molten floatstone core keeping the armoured ship above the ground as it begun to rise. You did get a perfect vantage point, when your short trek finally stopped at an observation platform on the lower side of the ship, orientated forward and set right towards the stern, below and before the hangars proper. It was a tight fit with all twelve of you, but it did give you a glance at the airfield as it begun to shrunk below, the streets and rivers getting ever smaller and smaller, soon resembling toys more than anything else, as the coastline of the island became visible and the Zephyr pushed forward past the city of New Boromih with the gleaming Ducal Palace and the long boulevards that had seen blood revolution only a century ago.
All of it gets smaller and finally disappears underneath the clouds from which the Zephyr breaks like a sailing ship of old broke through the waves trying to push it down: soon only fluffy white and blue seemed to fill the observation deck and the Major quickly showed the three different wings their way, sending them off to their quarters along the corridor: four pilots each and all four of them bunking together. Showers and Toilets were communal, and space was premium on the ship.
Finally, only the three of you were left standing, together with a slightly odd-looking female pilot, whose neck and most of her face were hidden by flying goggles and a long daring scarf, that clashed with its bright yellow against the dark blue of her uniform and the half-coat that was wrapped around her left arm, hiding it but hinting at a crippled limb or worse with the way she was holding it against herself. Reaching up to push a few errant black locks underneath her side cap, she looked at all three of you, before offering her hand with a smile:
"Flight Lieutenant Viviana Hagi, callsign Wendigo, I am going to command your wing for the duration of this year's campaign. Major Strindt told me that all three of you have excelled in Strafing training back at the academy, thus they wanted someone with experience in air-to-ground and plane-to-airship attacks to lead you through your first few missions. It's nice to meet you.", she said earnestly, before hoisting her bag with her right hand, smiling as she pushed open the door to the bunk room and made her way inside, claiming one of the upper beds, before asking:
"Do you want to have slimmed down mission briefing now – or does anyone feel like checking if the mess hall is already open and we can get something to drink, up there?"
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