[] Hauler
[] Experimental
[/spoiler]
[] Experimental
[/spoiler]
- Created
- Status
- Ongoing
- Watchers
- 119
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 43
-
Statistics (30 threadmarks, 42k words)
-
Loading…
-
Loading…
-
Loading…
Adventure Begins
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Looking yourself over in the mirror, you ruffled your hair and sighed dramatically as it pushed itself back into a slightly under-greased slick. Most people would love to have your hair, thick and straight, but to you it was always a bit of a despairing item. No style would stick, no fashion touched it. All you got was a straight waterfall of raven-black meh.
"Hoy!" your manservant called up to you. Well, you said manservant, but in all honesty he was really just a batboy, heavy on the boy. You had scraped together all your cash up for this operation, and you'd known this rascal for years. Now, if only you remembered his name. "We're leaving soon, Mister!"
Well, at least he repaid the favor about forgetting names. Either way, you were off to the yards. Today was a dicey day, a fateful day. Every fiscal quarter, the local breaker yards and banks had a ship sale and auction- blind bids on everything on display, or a straight cash payment of the list price of the ship. It was the perfect storm of opportunity for you, and you were fairly sure you could pick up a ship, any ship, for cheap.
---
Once you got to the breaker yard, you looked up with a small gasp. You'd seen a lot in your seventeen years, but the sight of dozens, if not hundreds of zeplins and aerostrats and balloons floating there was enough to take your breath away. From monstrous cargo haulers to slim pickets, it was an aerial zoo. Still, you had to step lively to keep from getting trampled as everyone scrambled for the craft they needed.
"This way, sir." Your batboy said, grabbing your sleeve and dragging you to a spiral staircase. Climbing, you got to the upper catwalks and grabbed a magazine on what Large Vessels were on sale today. Making your way to one of the few benches, you flopped the magazine open, and got to reading.
The first ship on the docket was an older frigate, back from the eighties. A survivor of the Scramble for Africa, it had supposedly been part of the anti-piracy operations over South Africa and the Congo regions. Last modernized in '91, it had been outfitted with an Aethic Sail and improved Zeppelin Device and given to the Coast Guard to serve as a patrol vessel in low Aetheric layers and around the main transfer points from Aether to the normal sky. Lightly armed, it would be a good choice if you ever wanted to run the dangerous, and more importantly lucrative, cargo routes in Asia or any of the Ottoman Empire's numerous airship paths.
Next up, a forclosed bulk cargo hauler. A sturdy design hailing from the German Empire, it was a Zeppelin original with all the pros and cons that came with. Sturdy as hell, it had a full and unabridged internal skeleton plus a structural belt arrangement designed to give it maximum cargo capacity. Armed with only a few machine guns there as a tax break and formality, this was the classic design of an airship, perfect for the calm Atlantic routes and South American bulk trips. Previously owned by an unlucky independent who tried to use it to run longitudinal routes without air traffic permissions, it was the definition of a sedate ship.
Last in the catalogue was a scientist's experimental ship he'd designed for the New York Aerosat Fair and needed to dispose of. Equipped with an amazing engine suite and Aetheric systems, it bore a moderate armament and more importantly it also boasted a number of unknowns. As much as you liked the principles of Science, the ship was an uncomfortable middle point on a number of factors. Between the unknown speed, enough guns to slow it down but not enough to fight with, unknown handling, unknown profit factor, cargo holds too big for specific cargo and too small for general cargo, and overall just a really uncomfortable feeling. Even the picture felt judgmental, for chrissakes!
"Hey, sir." Your batboy said, looking at you with a selfish grin. "It is about lunchtime, and after that's the bidding and buying. Better get a move on."
Nodding at him, you replied. "In a minute. Anyway, what smells good?"
"Well, there's a frybread stall a few ships down, and the counter girl there's pretty cute…"
---
Looking over the paperwork, you got ready to sign it. One ship, with one crew lined up back at Copper Harbor, all for the low low price of every penny you had. No matter the past, no matter the present, no matter the future: this was your path.
"Sign here, please."
Looking at the title, you breathed in and out one last time. Your new life began now.
---
VOTES
What is your Name?
[] Noble: Something evoking the great houses of the Continent and their interleaving with American Industrialists. This name elicits a sense of power and might.
[] Merchant: The skies are home to a precious few who take to them forever, and these merchant houses are infamous for their command of the clouds and currents. This name elicits a sense of confidence and familiarity.
[] Smuggler: As long as there's been trade, there's been those who circumvent the works of honest governments and instead speak to the profit or cause. This name elicits a sense of cunning and deceit.
What is your Ship?
[] Frigate
[] Hauler
[] Experimental
"Hoy!" your manservant called up to you. Well, you said manservant, but in all honesty he was really just a batboy, heavy on the boy. You had scraped together all your cash up for this operation, and you'd known this rascal for years. Now, if only you remembered his name. "We're leaving soon, Mister!"
Well, at least he repaid the favor about forgetting names. Either way, you were off to the yards. Today was a dicey day, a fateful day. Every fiscal quarter, the local breaker yards and banks had a ship sale and auction- blind bids on everything on display, or a straight cash payment of the list price of the ship. It was the perfect storm of opportunity for you, and you were fairly sure you could pick up a ship, any ship, for cheap.
---
Once you got to the breaker yard, you looked up with a small gasp. You'd seen a lot in your seventeen years, but the sight of dozens, if not hundreds of zeplins and aerostrats and balloons floating there was enough to take your breath away. From monstrous cargo haulers to slim pickets, it was an aerial zoo. Still, you had to step lively to keep from getting trampled as everyone scrambled for the craft they needed.
"This way, sir." Your batboy said, grabbing your sleeve and dragging you to a spiral staircase. Climbing, you got to the upper catwalks and grabbed a magazine on what Large Vessels were on sale today. Making your way to one of the few benches, you flopped the magazine open, and got to reading.
The first ship on the docket was an older frigate, back from the eighties. A survivor of the Scramble for Africa, it had supposedly been part of the anti-piracy operations over South Africa and the Congo regions. Last modernized in '91, it had been outfitted with an Aethic Sail and improved Zeppelin Device and given to the Coast Guard to serve as a patrol vessel in low Aetheric layers and around the main transfer points from Aether to the normal sky. Lightly armed, it would be a good choice if you ever wanted to run the dangerous, and more importantly lucrative, cargo routes in Asia or any of the Ottoman Empire's numerous airship paths.
Next up, a forclosed bulk cargo hauler. A sturdy design hailing from the German Empire, it was a Zeppelin original with all the pros and cons that came with. Sturdy as hell, it had a full and unabridged internal skeleton plus a structural belt arrangement designed to give it maximum cargo capacity. Armed with only a few machine guns there as a tax break and formality, this was the classic design of an airship, perfect for the calm Atlantic routes and South American bulk trips. Previously owned by an unlucky independent who tried to use it to run longitudinal routes without air traffic permissions, it was the definition of a sedate ship.
Last in the catalogue was a scientist's experimental ship he'd designed for the New York Aerosat Fair and needed to dispose of. Equipped with an amazing engine suite and Aetheric systems, it bore a moderate armament and more importantly it also boasted a number of unknowns. As much as you liked the principles of Science, the ship was an uncomfortable middle point on a number of factors. Between the unknown speed, enough guns to slow it down but not enough to fight with, unknown handling, unknown profit factor, cargo holds too big for specific cargo and too small for general cargo, and overall just a really uncomfortable feeling. Even the picture felt judgmental, for chrissakes!
"Hey, sir." Your batboy said, looking at you with a selfish grin. "It is about lunchtime, and after that's the bidding and buying. Better get a move on."
Nodding at him, you replied. "In a minute. Anyway, what smells good?"
"Well, there's a frybread stall a few ships down, and the counter girl there's pretty cute…"
---
Looking over the paperwork, you got ready to sign it. One ship, with one crew lined up back at Copper Harbor, all for the low low price of every penny you had. No matter the past, no matter the present, no matter the future: this was your path.
"Sign here, please."
Looking at the title, you breathed in and out one last time. Your new life began now.
---
VOTES
What is your Name?
[] Noble: Something evoking the great houses of the Continent and their interleaving with American Industrialists. This name elicits a sense of power and might.
[] Merchant: The skies are home to a precious few who take to them forever, and these merchant houses are infamous for their command of the clouds and currents. This name elicits a sense of confidence and familiarity.
[] Smuggler: As long as there's been trade, there's been those who circumvent the works of honest governments and instead speak to the profit or cause. This name elicits a sense of cunning and deceit.
What is your Ship?
[] Frigate
Armament
2x Spinal Mounts
4x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-6x Compartments
2x Spinal Mounts
4x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-6x Compartments
[] Hauler
Armament
0x Spinal Mounts
4x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-12x Compartments
0x Spinal Mounts
4x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-12x Compartments
[] Experimental
Armament
1x Spinal Mounts
2x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-9x Compartments
1x Spinal Mounts
2x Broadside Mounts
Stowage
-9x Compartments
Last edited:
Rules and Mechanics
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Rules
Working on this, you see nothing here
Mechanics
Currently this quest is built out of a d% or d100 system, in which percentage dice are rolled to determine if you succeed a thingy. Unlike a lot of FATE systems, this is a roll-over system, so higher=better. I'll be taking the best of the first three rolls after a post calls for them, and if there's a re-roll on the item or an opportunity to "take ten" and re-try the task then I'll bump it up to best of six.
First big item to look at is You, Yourself. As you play as the Captain of the Ship, you're the boss and will also end up doing most of the rolling. Fortunatly, there are only four basic skills. Unfortunetly, everything else falls under a Trait you have that lets you add a bonus to a straight roll or gets fobbed off to one of your Crew
Next item; the Crew. Each division of Crew is represented by their Division Head, of which there are several. Bigger ships with more crew get better Crew rolls, while your relationships with the Division Heads also matter too.
Finally, there's the ship. While not responsible for rolls, the Ship has a lot of modifiers tied up in it, including damage modifiers, speed modifiers, and ease of transit modifiers. Fortunaly, ships are easily modified, and as such can be made to suit your playstyle better, as well as be bought and sold wholesale.
Working on this, you see nothing here
Mechanics
Currently this quest is built out of a d% or d100 system, in which percentage dice are rolled to determine if you succeed a thingy. Unlike a lot of FATE systems, this is a roll-over system, so higher=better. I'll be taking the best of the first three rolls after a post calls for them, and if there's a re-roll on the item or an opportunity to "take ten" and re-try the task then I'll bump it up to best of six.
First big item to look at is You, Yourself. As you play as the Captain of the Ship, you're the boss and will also end up doing most of the rolling. Fortunatly, there are only four basic skills. Unfortunetly, everything else falls under a Trait you have that lets you add a bonus to a straight roll or gets fobbed off to one of your Crew
Next item; the Crew. Each division of Crew is represented by their Division Head, of which there are several. Bigger ships with more crew get better Crew rolls, while your relationships with the Division Heads also matter too.
Finally, there's the ship. While not responsible for rolls, the Ship has a lot of modifiers tied up in it, including damage modifiers, speed modifiers, and ease of transit modifiers. Fortunaly, ships are easily modified, and as such can be made to suit your playstyle better, as well as be bought and sold wholesale.
Last edited:
Character Sheet 1
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Personal Stats
Name: Aleksander van Riebeck
Family Name: van Riebeck, Merchant
Stats, Raw
Leadership: 17
Mercantilism: 16
Air Sense: 29
Personal Combat: 13
(ed. to reflect system changes)
Talents and Traits
-Skyborn
--Gain +5 to Handle Ship and Navigation while in the air
-Market Sense
--Halve all penalties form Monopolies and gain +10 to Mercantilism when selling
-Air Feet
--Take no personal penalties for rough weather
Ship Stats
Ship Name: Caroline Anaheim
Ship Type: Small Experimental
Ship HP: 45
Ship Max Lift: 180
Ship Standard Lift: 55
Raw Bonuses
-Crew Use Bonus: +0
-Engineering Bonus: -10
-Damage Control Bonus: -5
-Weapons Bonus: +0
-Handling Bonus: +15
-Medical Bonus: +20
-Boarding Action Bonus: -20
Weapons Slots
-Prow Spinal
--Armstrong 6lbs gun (3d4 damage)
-Port Broadside
--Model 1895 Gatling Gun (1d6 damage, 2x Continuous Fire)
-Starboard Broadside
--Model 1895 Gatling Gun (1d6 damage, 2x Continuous Fire)
Hull Slots
-Crew Quarters (Cramped)
- Zeppelin Device (Anaheim Pattern)
- Aetheric Sails (Large, Singular)
- Powerplant, Medium (Anaheim Pattern)
- Motor, Medium x2 (Anaheim Pattern)
-Cargo Bay x6
Name: Aleksander van Riebeck
Family Name: van Riebeck, Merchant
Stats, Raw
Leadership: 17
Mercantilism: 16
Air Sense: 29
Personal Combat: 13
(ed. to reflect system changes)
Talents and Traits
-Skyborn
--Gain +5 to Handle Ship and Navigation while in the air
-Market Sense
--Halve all penalties form Monopolies and gain +10 to Mercantilism when selling
-Air Feet
--Take no personal penalties for rough weather
Ship Stats
Ship Name: Caroline Anaheim
Ship Type: Small Experimental
Ship HP: 45
Ship Max Lift: 180
Ship Standard Lift: 55
Raw Bonuses
-Crew Use Bonus: +0
-Engineering Bonus: -10
-Damage Control Bonus: -5
-Weapons Bonus: +0
-Handling Bonus: +15
-Medical Bonus: +20
-Boarding Action Bonus: -20
Weapons Slots
-Prow Spinal
--Armstrong 6lbs gun (3d4 damage)
-Port Broadside
--Model 1895 Gatling Gun (1d6 damage, 2x Continuous Fire)
-Starboard Broadside
--Model 1895 Gatling Gun (1d6 damage, 2x Continuous Fire)
Hull Slots
-Crew Quarters (Cramped)
- Zeppelin Device (Anaheim Pattern)
- Aetheric Sails (Large, Singular)
- Powerplant, Medium (Anaheim Pattern)
- Motor, Medium x2 (Anaheim Pattern)
-Cargo Bay x6
Last edited:
Q/A and FAQ
First Steps
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Looking over the bridge of the Caroline Anaheim, you shuddered slightly. This ship was new, outfitted with piles on piles of gauges and systems. It was a masterwork item, a true creation of beauty.
You also had to fly it from Marquette to Copper Harbour solo.
Now, to be fair, the Caroline Anahiem wasn't a massively complicated ship. It only nominally required forty hands or so for straight sub-Aether flight. Turn off the Zeppelin Device and shut down it's boiler and get the steam re-routes set, that forty hands dropped down to twenty-three. Set the boiler fires and drafts so that you wouldn't be adjusting them for performance ever, twenty-three became sixteen. Lock the motors in first gear, sixteen to ten. Clear off the bridge crew and spotters, ten looked like three.
Those last three roles were the Engine Chief, the Pilot, and the Navigator. You were a pilot before you were a Captain, and you'd done the Marquette to Copper Harbor route before. Fortunately, your batboy also understood a fair amount about boilers, or at least enough to read a gauge or three and crank the coal impeller to keep heat up. Now came the tricky part- getting your ship out of this mess.
{Handle Ship roll: 1d100= 28+39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) -15(Undercrewed) =72 /60. Success! }
It took you about ten minutes to get a hang of the controls of the ship, but a rudder was a rudder and elevators were elevators no matter what you were flying. The voice tubes were at the Captain's station, though, and that made for some interesting problems- starting with the fact that because you had the engines locked in first, you had to keep a really low thrust on them. More than a few times leaving the Marquette skyport you'd had to run back to the Captain's chair and tell the batboy to pull the scram valve, dumping all the steam straight up into the condenser coils to cut thrust or just get a little bit more lift.
Still, once you were out of the main sky lanes and the bustling crowds of Marquette you got a chance to breathe easy. The waystations to Copper Harbor were all in place, and you could follow this route blindfolded. This turned out to be a decent state of affairs, because with the engines stuck in first and you fighting a crosswind the whole way coming in off Superior it ended up close to midnight when you pulled into Copper Harbour. After tying off to the short landing masts, you called back to the batboy, a smile on your face.
"Cut the air feeds to the boiler and duct all steam to condensers. We're home."
---
Looking out over your perspective crew, you frowned slightly. You had friends you'd used as recruiters and helpers, and right now the crew they'd gathered up was… well, you'd say motley for now.
The first and most important member of your crew was Jacob Young. A young pilot, he'd been handling ferry trips around the Peninsula for years as a kid, and a degree in Aeronautics only made him more confident. Brash, cocky, and fond of risk-taking, you'd talked him aboard this operation on the promise of bringing home a ship he could fly that wouldn't be a scow. At least he'd be happy.
Next up, your clerk and first mate, Donald Zamwekis. Donald had been with you from when you were a kid, and between his accounting skills and ability to rope people into your childhood drama he'd always had your back. He'd done most of the bulk recruiting for this little adventure, and you knew without a doubt he would keep you covered.
Third in the motely cast you'd assembled was Lauri Suukahili. A Finn of absolutely no renown, his skill with weapons in general had made him your first and only choice for the position of ship's weapons officer. Machinist by trade and fighter by disposition, he easily personified sisu and all it represented.
Following Lauri was your Chief Engineer, Thomas McCloud. While capable of putting on the shamrock and playing up his Irish heritage, the Catholic you'd hired on for the engines and boilers still owed you a few markers. All that mattered to you was that he could keep the engines turning, though.
Czeslawa Katarina, your doctor, made five. With her mother as a midwife from the Old Country, she had learned the ways of herbs and teas before getting a nursing certificate from the board of old salts in Sault St. Marie. Every ship needed a doctor for the ailments of the crew, and to be perfectly honest you knew with Czeslawa you were far ahead of the curve on that score.
Continuing the officer's parade aboard, you looked at your Espatier chief and nodded respectfully. You were all too sure you were going to end up with some brawler of a vessel running into and out of fires, and as a result you'd scrounged for the best leader of men you could for when it was time for cold steel to rule them all. Lucia Valdosta, female she may be, was certainly the correct choice as far as you were concerned.
Last, your Navigator came to board. You'd known Elizabeth Cook for a large number of years, and the girl was Skyborn, just as you were. Where you'd been a marvel at the controls of anything that kissed the clouds, though, Elizabeth was one of those few people who could see the skies and Aether, picking her way through current and cross-current to guide a ship safe to rest wherever she may go.
It was with Elizabeth that your good news ended, though. Few expenses were spared on forming your officer's company, and the money had to be drawn from somewhere. Said somewhere was your air compliment- ninety-five souls of various sobriety who'd all need a firm shaking out over the course of the trip. Gathering your officers, you all took them to the small wardroom and shut the door.
"Ladies and gentlemen," you said, smiling. "Thank you for accepting to work with me. Our first job for the Caroline Anaheim is a simple run- as much copper ore as we can take, straight to the foundries in Toulouse. Navigator, there are three well-known routes we can take; any commentary?"
Pulling out her personal map case, Elizabeth scrolled out a map of the Earth covered in dancing lines of a dozen colors.
"Well, we can take the most common route, the Merlin Pathway." Elizabeth began, sketching a straight route to New York, and then doglegging to Bordeaux. "On the plus side, it's well-policed, safe, and constant. Minus side, we'd have to go through Bordeaux, and I've heard things lately that suggest the customs groups there aren't so good. Give it a week for travel time, plus two days in customs."
Elizabeth sighed, and started tracing another route. "Next is the Sorghum Run. We'd need to take the Mississippi Current to Hati, then enter the Sorghum Run proper, but once we're in it we'd only be in Aether for a day, two at most. Plus, we'd be exiting near Albi, which is only a short sub-Aether hop to Toulouse. Call it five days"
You looked at Elizabeth, who fidgeted under your gaze for a second before she sighed. "Then there's the Quebecois Route. It's… poorly mapped at best, riddled with pirates and English, and will take three days."
Shaking your head, you shoot her a small glance. "Just because it's on your family's proprietary maps doesn't mean it's not there. Anyway, a vote. All for the Merlin?"
Three hands raised.
"All for the Sorghum?"
One hand raised, Lucia's. She must of heard of the pirates running from Cuba or something.
"All for the Quebecois Run?"
Three hands.
"Whelp, that's a tie. Captain gets the deciding vote."
Which route to take?
[] Merlin Route- Slow, steady, and the possibility of a holdup in customs. Estimated nine days.
[] Sorghum Route- Fairly fast, low but existent odds of pirates. Estimated five days.
[] Quebecois Route- Lightning fast, low but existent odds of pirates, virgin trade route for the Navigator. Estimated three days.
How much cargo?
[] Light load- It's a new ship, go easy on her. Twelve tons of cargo, no effect on ship handling or performance.
[] Medium load- It's a new ship, with no miles on her yet. Twenty-four tons of cargo, small penalty on ship handling and performance.
[] Heavy load- We do have bills to pay, after all. Fifty-six tons of cargo, moderate penalty on ship handling and performance.
You also had to fly it from Marquette to Copper Harbour solo.
Now, to be fair, the Caroline Anahiem wasn't a massively complicated ship. It only nominally required forty hands or so for straight sub-Aether flight. Turn off the Zeppelin Device and shut down it's boiler and get the steam re-routes set, that forty hands dropped down to twenty-three. Set the boiler fires and drafts so that you wouldn't be adjusting them for performance ever, twenty-three became sixteen. Lock the motors in first gear, sixteen to ten. Clear off the bridge crew and spotters, ten looked like three.
Those last three roles were the Engine Chief, the Pilot, and the Navigator. You were a pilot before you were a Captain, and you'd done the Marquette to Copper Harbor route before. Fortunately, your batboy also understood a fair amount about boilers, or at least enough to read a gauge or three and crank the coal impeller to keep heat up. Now came the tricky part- getting your ship out of this mess.
{Handle Ship roll: 1d100= 28+39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) -15(Undercrewed) =72 /60. Success! }
It took you about ten minutes to get a hang of the controls of the ship, but a rudder was a rudder and elevators were elevators no matter what you were flying. The voice tubes were at the Captain's station, though, and that made for some interesting problems- starting with the fact that because you had the engines locked in first, you had to keep a really low thrust on them. More than a few times leaving the Marquette skyport you'd had to run back to the Captain's chair and tell the batboy to pull the scram valve, dumping all the steam straight up into the condenser coils to cut thrust or just get a little bit more lift.
Still, once you were out of the main sky lanes and the bustling crowds of Marquette you got a chance to breathe easy. The waystations to Copper Harbor were all in place, and you could follow this route blindfolded. This turned out to be a decent state of affairs, because with the engines stuck in first and you fighting a crosswind the whole way coming in off Superior it ended up close to midnight when you pulled into Copper Harbour. After tying off to the short landing masts, you called back to the batboy, a smile on your face.
"Cut the air feeds to the boiler and duct all steam to condensers. We're home."
---
Looking out over your perspective crew, you frowned slightly. You had friends you'd used as recruiters and helpers, and right now the crew they'd gathered up was… well, you'd say motley for now.
The first and most important member of your crew was Jacob Young. A young pilot, he'd been handling ferry trips around the Peninsula for years as a kid, and a degree in Aeronautics only made him more confident. Brash, cocky, and fond of risk-taking, you'd talked him aboard this operation on the promise of bringing home a ship he could fly that wouldn't be a scow. At least he'd be happy.
Next up, your clerk and first mate, Donald Zamwekis. Donald had been with you from when you were a kid, and between his accounting skills and ability to rope people into your childhood drama he'd always had your back. He'd done most of the bulk recruiting for this little adventure, and you knew without a doubt he would keep you covered.
Third in the motely cast you'd assembled was Lauri Suukahili. A Finn of absolutely no renown, his skill with weapons in general had made him your first and only choice for the position of ship's weapons officer. Machinist by trade and fighter by disposition, he easily personified sisu and all it represented.
Following Lauri was your Chief Engineer, Thomas McCloud. While capable of putting on the shamrock and playing up his Irish heritage, the Catholic you'd hired on for the engines and boilers still owed you a few markers. All that mattered to you was that he could keep the engines turning, though.
Czeslawa Katarina, your doctor, made five. With her mother as a midwife from the Old Country, she had learned the ways of herbs and teas before getting a nursing certificate from the board of old salts in Sault St. Marie. Every ship needed a doctor for the ailments of the crew, and to be perfectly honest you knew with Czeslawa you were far ahead of the curve on that score.
Continuing the officer's parade aboard, you looked at your Espatier chief and nodded respectfully. You were all too sure you were going to end up with some brawler of a vessel running into and out of fires, and as a result you'd scrounged for the best leader of men you could for when it was time for cold steel to rule them all. Lucia Valdosta, female she may be, was certainly the correct choice as far as you were concerned.
Last, your Navigator came to board. You'd known Elizabeth Cook for a large number of years, and the girl was Skyborn, just as you were. Where you'd been a marvel at the controls of anything that kissed the clouds, though, Elizabeth was one of those few people who could see the skies and Aether, picking her way through current and cross-current to guide a ship safe to rest wherever she may go.
It was with Elizabeth that your good news ended, though. Few expenses were spared on forming your officer's company, and the money had to be drawn from somewhere. Said somewhere was your air compliment- ninety-five souls of various sobriety who'd all need a firm shaking out over the course of the trip. Gathering your officers, you all took them to the small wardroom and shut the door.
"Ladies and gentlemen," you said, smiling. "Thank you for accepting to work with me. Our first job for the Caroline Anaheim is a simple run- as much copper ore as we can take, straight to the foundries in Toulouse. Navigator, there are three well-known routes we can take; any commentary?"
Pulling out her personal map case, Elizabeth scrolled out a map of the Earth covered in dancing lines of a dozen colors.
"Well, we can take the most common route, the Merlin Pathway." Elizabeth began, sketching a straight route to New York, and then doglegging to Bordeaux. "On the plus side, it's well-policed, safe, and constant. Minus side, we'd have to go through Bordeaux, and I've heard things lately that suggest the customs groups there aren't so good. Give it a week for travel time, plus two days in customs."
Elizabeth sighed, and started tracing another route. "Next is the Sorghum Run. We'd need to take the Mississippi Current to Hati, then enter the Sorghum Run proper, but once we're in it we'd only be in Aether for a day, two at most. Plus, we'd be exiting near Albi, which is only a short sub-Aether hop to Toulouse. Call it five days"
You looked at Elizabeth, who fidgeted under your gaze for a second before she sighed. "Then there's the Quebecois Route. It's… poorly mapped at best, riddled with pirates and English, and will take three days."
Shaking your head, you shoot her a small glance. "Just because it's on your family's proprietary maps doesn't mean it's not there. Anyway, a vote. All for the Merlin?"
Three hands raised.
"All for the Sorghum?"
One hand raised, Lucia's. She must of heard of the pirates running from Cuba or something.
"All for the Quebecois Run?"
Three hands.
"Whelp, that's a tie. Captain gets the deciding vote."
Which route to take?
[] Merlin Route- Slow, steady, and the possibility of a holdup in customs. Estimated nine days.
[] Sorghum Route- Fairly fast, low but existent odds of pirates. Estimated five days.
[] Quebecois Route- Lightning fast, low but existent odds of pirates, virgin trade route for the Navigator. Estimated three days.
How much cargo?
[] Light load- It's a new ship, go easy on her. Twelve tons of cargo, no effect on ship handling or performance.
[] Medium load- It's a new ship, with no miles on her yet. Twenty-four tons of cargo, small penalty on ship handling and performance.
[] Heavy load- We do have bills to pay, after all. Fifty-six tons of cargo, moderate penalty on ship handling and performance.
Last edited:
Entering the Aether
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
ount of money you knew you had only because you'd taken out a loan against your inheritance, you gave him the check. Sniffing it, the accountant put in an envelope and in turn in a leather mail pouch.
"I do wonder how a young captain such as you would have an account with them." The accountant muttered, looking you over with a staunch eye. "The House of Morgan is rarely involved with a man's personal finances."
"My father had friends." You said, stiff. "Good day."
---
{Ship Handling roll: 1d100= 64+39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus)=123/80 High Success!}
"Steady as she goes, Jack." You muttered, watching the ship progress from your seat in the main gondola.
"Gundeck fore spotter to Bridge, got a skiff with some drunkered gamboling around off top fore port quarter."
"Bridge acknowledges" you replied into the speaking tube. "Jack, starboard ten steady elevators."
"Starboard ten, steady elevators, aye Captain. I think I can see the Aether point."
Breathing in and out, you unclenched your stomach for a moment. Aether transfers were always a nervous experience, especially when you didn't know the paths yourself. Forcing another breath through your lungs, you let your grip clench on the Captain's Chair and locked eyes forward. Elizabeth told you earlier she was confident with all the major American Continental currents, and the Mississippi current was the largest overland one on the North American continent.
"Navigator, please report to the bridge. Say again, Navigator, please report to the bridge."
It was time to do the Jump. Going into Aether was always a risky pursuit, that transfer between 'here' and 'there' being the hardest part. Ships had cracked themselves going through the pathways in the sky, and often nobody knew why.
As Elizabeth decensended to the bridge, though, you saw her eyes light up. Moving swiftly, she moved to the Navigtor's Place, directly behind and to the right of the Captain so he could hear everything they said. Settling herself there, Elizabeth sighed and moved her hands out, splaying them on the small map-board that graced the station.
"Steady as she goes." The quiet brunet said, voice clear. "This one's feeling frisky today- we'll need to be moving fairly quick to get optimal transference. Also…"
Watching her divine the mysterious pathways that soared over and through the world, you saw her smile as she grabbed something, holding it carefully.
"Approach at at least fifty knots." Elizabeth said, her eyes wide. "A sharp upward transference angle- twelve degrees or better. We'll enter in a fairly calm pocket where we can trim and raise sail."
You nodded, and looked over to the engine telegraph man. "Signal full power to the engines, and sound the tilt alarm."
As the engine telegraph man signaled the engines to full speed, you dimly heard the ooh-ahh alarm that warned the airship was about to go into a maneuver outside the standard footing. Commercial ships, by law, had to issue an alarm whenever going into a planned steep maneuver- more than ten degrees pitch or roll. More importantly, past twenty degrees of bank and roll only an Air Mate was allowed to keep their feet- everyone else was supposed to tie themselves to a chair and hold on.
"Steady…" you muttered, watching the rift in the sky get closer. "Steady…"
As you watched the approaching rift close, you looked to the gauge chief. "Airspeed?"
"Sixty knots and rising."
"Pilot, fourteen degrees to the elevators!" you shouted. "Dorsal spotters, are we on axis to the Rift?"
"Ship is on axis!" came back the tinned reply. Looking around, you frantically yelled. "Speed?"
"Fifty nine and dropping!"
"Ballast teams, shift two four zero gallons aft! Pilot, elevators to neutral! All hands, brace!"
---
For a brief second, you could feel the world shift around you as some of the precepts of reality changed. Moments later, things slowly returned to normal- or at least, to within spitting distance of it. Letting go of the arms of your chair, you sighed quietly.
"All hands, good work. Engine to Aether Cruise, disengage Zeppelin Device. Ballast teams, right the ship to neutral axis. Halt the tilt alarm. Aether Sail teams, raise masts and set sail."
Pausing to look out the window, you smiled. The golden cloudscape, so reminiscent of a field of fluffy wheat, was a good sign of calm weather.
"Hey, Alek." You heard Donald say from behind your left shoulder. Odd- you hadn't heard him enter the bridge. "Listen, you said you wanted to see the guys raise the Aether sails, right?"
You nodded. "Yeah. I take it you want the wheel for a bit then?"
"If you don't mind."
"Alright. First Mate Zamwekis has the con."
"Aye-aye. I have the con." Donald said, grinning as you pealed yourself out of the chair. Moving to the ladder off the bridge, you sighed faintly. Another trip to the Aether done without hassel.
---
Once you got suited up and moved topside, you had to smile. Wide open expanses of Aether were always a marvel, the soft clouds sometimes breaking to show the blues and violets of faster-moving streams; the green rays of sun, the red warmth of the Rift you had come from. Feeling the ship give slightly, you smiled as you buckled your main line into the ship's central ridge. Starting off your walk, it was a good timing that let you see the center mast be raised. From it, a single wire mesh sail was raised, the fine copper and electrum strands in the sheet lighting and sparkling in the gold. It would catch a mundane wind familiar to Terra Firma, but here?
Here, you saw it luft for a moment, before winches shaped it, pulled it into a powerful curve. And as it caught the shreds of invisible breeze, you felt the Caroline Anaheim begin to move. Now, now you could say you were an airship captain in truth!
Votes
What do you focus on first?
[] Learn the ship and the crew
[] Talk to your officers
[] Study the Aether, and learn about it's mysteries
What do you do in your free time?
[] Practice fighting with the Espatiers. Your sword-arm is a little rusty, and you sold your pistol for food money at one point. Besides, it would be a bad Captain not ready to fight.
[] Discuss your route and time spent Aether-sailing with the Navigator, comparing notes. You're both Skyborn- you might be able to learn her tricks one day.
[] Share meals with the Doctor, and learn all the things about the crew they'll never tell you to your face. These aren't good sailors you picked up- you need to know which ones are worth working with and which ones need to get dumped with the cargo.
"I do wonder how a young captain such as you would have an account with them." The accountant muttered, looking you over with a staunch eye. "The House of Morgan is rarely involved with a man's personal finances."
"My father had friends." You said, stiff. "Good day."
---
{Ship Handling roll: 1d100= 64+39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus)=123/80 High Success!}
"Steady as she goes, Jack." You muttered, watching the ship progress from your seat in the main gondola.
"Gundeck fore spotter to Bridge, got a skiff with some drunkered gamboling around off top fore port quarter."
"Bridge acknowledges" you replied into the speaking tube. "Jack, starboard ten steady elevators."
"Starboard ten, steady elevators, aye Captain. I think I can see the Aether point."
Breathing in and out, you unclenched your stomach for a moment. Aether transfers were always a nervous experience, especially when you didn't know the paths yourself. Forcing another breath through your lungs, you let your grip clench on the Captain's Chair and locked eyes forward. Elizabeth told you earlier she was confident with all the major American Continental currents, and the Mississippi current was the largest overland one on the North American continent.
"Navigator, please report to the bridge. Say again, Navigator, please report to the bridge."
It was time to do the Jump. Going into Aether was always a risky pursuit, that transfer between 'here' and 'there' being the hardest part. Ships had cracked themselves going through the pathways in the sky, and often nobody knew why.
As Elizabeth decensended to the bridge, though, you saw her eyes light up. Moving swiftly, she moved to the Navigtor's Place, directly behind and to the right of the Captain so he could hear everything they said. Settling herself there, Elizabeth sighed and moved her hands out, splaying them on the small map-board that graced the station.
"Steady as she goes." The quiet brunet said, voice clear. "This one's feeling frisky today- we'll need to be moving fairly quick to get optimal transference. Also…"
Watching her divine the mysterious pathways that soared over and through the world, you saw her smile as she grabbed something, holding it carefully.
"Approach at at least fifty knots." Elizabeth said, her eyes wide. "A sharp upward transference angle- twelve degrees or better. We'll enter in a fairly calm pocket where we can trim and raise sail."
You nodded, and looked over to the engine telegraph man. "Signal full power to the engines, and sound the tilt alarm."
As the engine telegraph man signaled the engines to full speed, you dimly heard the ooh-ahh alarm that warned the airship was about to go into a maneuver outside the standard footing. Commercial ships, by law, had to issue an alarm whenever going into a planned steep maneuver- more than ten degrees pitch or roll. More importantly, past twenty degrees of bank and roll only an Air Mate was allowed to keep their feet- everyone else was supposed to tie themselves to a chair and hold on.
"Steady…" you muttered, watching the rift in the sky get closer. "Steady…"
As you watched the approaching rift close, you looked to the gauge chief. "Airspeed?"
"Sixty knots and rising."
"Pilot, fourteen degrees to the elevators!" you shouted. "Dorsal spotters, are we on axis to the Rift?"
"Ship is on axis!" came back the tinned reply. Looking around, you frantically yelled. "Speed?"
"Fifty nine and dropping!"
"Ballast teams, shift two four zero gallons aft! Pilot, elevators to neutral! All hands, brace!"
---
For a brief second, you could feel the world shift around you as some of the precepts of reality changed. Moments later, things slowly returned to normal- or at least, to within spitting distance of it. Letting go of the arms of your chair, you sighed quietly.
"All hands, good work. Engine to Aether Cruise, disengage Zeppelin Device. Ballast teams, right the ship to neutral axis. Halt the tilt alarm. Aether Sail teams, raise masts and set sail."
Pausing to look out the window, you smiled. The golden cloudscape, so reminiscent of a field of fluffy wheat, was a good sign of calm weather.
"Hey, Alek." You heard Donald say from behind your left shoulder. Odd- you hadn't heard him enter the bridge. "Listen, you said you wanted to see the guys raise the Aether sails, right?"
You nodded. "Yeah. I take it you want the wheel for a bit then?"
"If you don't mind."
"Alright. First Mate Zamwekis has the con."
"Aye-aye. I have the con." Donald said, grinning as you pealed yourself out of the chair. Moving to the ladder off the bridge, you sighed faintly. Another trip to the Aether done without hassel.
---
Once you got suited up and moved topside, you had to smile. Wide open expanses of Aether were always a marvel, the soft clouds sometimes breaking to show the blues and violets of faster-moving streams; the green rays of sun, the red warmth of the Rift you had come from. Feeling the ship give slightly, you smiled as you buckled your main line into the ship's central ridge. Starting off your walk, it was a good timing that let you see the center mast be raised. From it, a single wire mesh sail was raised, the fine copper and electrum strands in the sheet lighting and sparkling in the gold. It would catch a mundane wind familiar to Terra Firma, but here?
Here, you saw it luft for a moment, before winches shaped it, pulled it into a powerful curve. And as it caught the shreds of invisible breeze, you felt the Caroline Anaheim begin to move. Now, now you could say you were an airship captain in truth!
Votes
What do you focus on first?
[] Learn the ship and the crew
[] Talk to your officers
[] Study the Aether, and learn about it's mysteries
What do you do in your free time?
[] Practice fighting with the Espatiers. Your sword-arm is a little rusty, and you sold your pistol for food money at one point. Besides, it would be a bad Captain not ready to fight.
[] Discuss your route and time spent Aether-sailing with the Navigator, comparing notes. You're both Skyborn- you might be able to learn her tricks one day.
[] Share meals with the Doctor, and learn all the things about the crew they'll never tell you to your face. These aren't good sailors you picked up- you need to know which ones are worth working with and which ones need to get dumped with the cargo.
Last edited:
Toe to Toe
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Smirking, you nod at Lucia. Her remark about your sword wasn't far from established truth- that old cavalry sabre wasn't cheap by any means, and you'd had enough fun wearing it through your ship today. That didn't change the fact you were fairly familiar with it though, and besides- you knew what a little reach could do in the right hands. Still, it was a bit of a challenge, and you had the feeling Lucia felt this would be a sucker's bet.
"Well then, Miss Lucia." You said, smirking and adopting the traditional swordsman duelist stance, one hand behind the back. "Have at thee."
Your Espatier's eyebrow raised. "Really." She said, flat for a moment. "Really."
"Yes. Dead certain. Take the first swing."
Shaking her head, Lucia sighed, adopted a ready stance, and gave a weapon salute. The next thing you noticed was her axe coming at your head somewhere between the speeds of 'oh crap' and 'murder'.
Of course, just because you weren't an axe-fighter by trade didn't mean you didn't know what you were doing. Moving in fast, your left forearm interposed itself in the path of the incoming swing, and your right hand and the hatchet in it took the classic headsman's horizontal chop. It would have been close enough to end the spar, if it wasn't for the fact Lucia knew how to duck. Rolling back and popping up in recovery, she glared at you darkly.
"That should have sliced your arm up, probably broken it too."
Taking your left hand down, you flicked your left wrist to reveal your belt knife, now with a long streak on it from where the cheap axe ground itself on good steel. "I'm a firm believer in not correcting my opponent's mistakes." You said, chuckling. "It's quite rude."
Now Lucia's eyes tightened. "You're a hell of an actor, then." She said, producing her own knife. "But that doesn't mean you're a good fighter."
You nodded, and the fight renewed. Lucia was a driving fighter, moving in and contesting your space constantly. Knifework almost seemed to render the hatchet useless, until an arcing chop tried to take you out and you had to frantically parry. You got the jump on her once, and if you stood any chance of at least ending this in a tie then you'd need to do it again.
Analyzing Lucia was a futile endeavor. She was good- very good. More importantly, she was better than you by enough you couldn't even get a read on her, which means you were going to have to go way outside the box. Blocking her next thrust with your hatchet, you dropped to the ground- and then you rolled.
The space of the cargo hold you were in was about forty feet wide by sixty long- and you knew where exactly your sabre had landed up when Lucia pitched it. This bottom-most deck was mostly open, with the few interuptions aside from latticework to support the above deck's cargo areas and lateral reinforcement of the partial belt struts. As such, your roll put you next to one of these struts, which you desperately used to pull yourself up and parry the next incoming blow. It was three more steps to get to your sword- but you never made it that far.
You knew, intellectually, that Lucia must have figured out the get-to-the-sword gambit, and her next sidestep attacks proved it. Now the hatchet took the lead, and you found yourself frantically parrying and weaving to avoid her strikes. It was moments later that you found yourself tripping backwards over the same strut you'd braced off of earlier, falling flat back.
"I think I win." Lucia said, chuckling. That black look was gone, now, and you were glad for it- that look reminded you of things best forgotten.
"Yeah." You replied, standing up and shaking out your hands after sheathing your knife and tucking the tomahawk in your belt. "I'd have won with the sword, though."
"Hah!" your Espatier Chief laughed, slugging you in the arm. "We'll see, some other day. Shift change is soon, though, and I'm officer on deck for the aft."
Nodding, you scratched your chin. You didn't have duty anytime soon, so your options on what to do were only limited by what you thought needed doing. Thinking to yourself for a minute, you decided to head aft yourself to check the engineering quarters.
---
Moving carefully through the belly of the ship, you ascended a ladder to the main beltway of the ship. The Caroline Anaheim was nearly eighty feet tall, apex to nadir of the keels, and the beltway was supposedly the highway on which travel was supposed to happen. Just above the second deck fore, it continued all the way to the steering gears aft. Right now, though, you were taking advantage of the fact it was the only continuous path from bow to stern that didn't jig around the lift cells. Passing through, you looked down occasionally at the bustling cargo holds and out at the taunt lift cells. Taking a moment, you listened to the air cautiously. Lift cells were always kept slightly pressurized so any bursts would push the hydrogen out, and not suck air in. The theory was a fire in the hull was easier to contain than a lift cell explosion getting burning material everywhere, but you personally disliked both accident's end results- a mass abandon ship.
Still, even if you couldn't hear the leak of a bad cell, you could hear the pulse of the ship. Things had a sound… and the sound of the ship was unsatisfied. She was unhappy, something about things just not sitting right. As you got ready to proceed on down to the engine rooms, one of the ship's runners slid down from a topset railing.
"Cap'n! Cap'n!" the boy yelled, looking at you avidly. "Th' Navigator says we're approaching the drop point!"
"Noted." You replied, looking at the kid. "Please relay to the engines we'll be entering atmosphere soon, start warming the boilers to half heat."
"Aye, sir!" the runner said, scrambling off down the centerway. Reversing course, you headed back to just over the bridge- a short walk, barely two minutes. Once over the bridge, getting there was simple: just slide down the ladder until you hit the bridge gondola floor with a 'thunk'.
"Captain on deck!" the engine telegrapher called, snapping off a fast salute. Returning it, you moved over to your chair.
"Captain has the con." You told Donald, tapping him on the shoulder. He looked at you languidly, and you mentally sighed. He was born on Terra Firma, and while it didn't often show you knew it affected his tolerance of the Aether.
"Aye-aye, cap'n." Donald replied, far too late. "Cap'n has the con."
"Go to bed, Donald." You said crisply, looking him in the eye. "I forgot about you and Aether."
"I don' mind." He said, stumbling off to the rear of the bridge. "Th' colors, though… you look too long and it start's saying things…"
"Yes, Donald. Go to sleep."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n."
As your first mate started to stumble into a wall, you sighed quietly. "Caller, send to the mess hall for someone to take Mr. Zamwekis to his cabin."
---
It was barely a minute later when Elizabeth came down to the bridge, an astrolabe in one hand and octant in the other. Unlike before, she seemed alive, energized by the gasses and shapes flowing around you. Somehow, you knew your earlier fears about disturbing her in her nest were ill-founded.
"Captain Aleksander! Captain! You see the point, yes?"
Sitting down in your chair carefully, you pulled out a spyglass and scryed the sky carefully. "I'm afraid not."
"Ah… you want to look at the green node, alright?"
Zooming out with a twist, you scanned carefully. "Can I get a heading on this Aetheric point, hmm? Azimuth off bow and elevation, please?"
"Twenty-five degrees, and five degrees, Captain. Right there, see it?"
Looking carefully, you finally spotted the green node, sparking merrily.
"That's not what nodes normally look like…" you muttered, looking at your Navigator.
"Well… it's not the normal node for this route, but there's going to be a lot of congestion up there." Elizabeth said, shy. "That one's a little less stable, so take the sails down first- but it'll put us out only a short jog from where we need to access the next current!"
"Alright." you said, calmly. "Caller, signal for sails and mast lowered, then send for the engines to full power on current steam load."
"Aye, sir."
---
This node felt distinctly electric, and as you saw the ship slide out, your bridge crew breathed a sigh of relief. The exception to the rule was your Navigator, who just sighed and started to shuffle off.
"Alright, all hands, smooth transition." You said, smiling. "Pilot, estimated local time?"
"Looks to be about six o'clock." Jack said, sighing as he set the course. "We'll need relative bearings- I presume we'll be getting them soon?"
"Soon enough." You said, relaxing. "Soon-"
"Captain!" the talker said, panicking. "Spotters have sighted three ships inbound, no sigils flying! They're on intercept in five minutes, and starboard thinks he sees a black flag!"
Grimacing, you struggled to think. Pirates. Pirates. Pirates. It had to be pirates. God damn it all to hell, the last thing you needed was pirates!
"Sir? Sir!"
Looking carefully, you saw them. A pair of skiffs, and a cutter. Fight, or run? Fight, or run? Risk that lean cutter being faster than you, or risk them having guns more advanced than muzzleloading cannon?
Either way, the time to decide was now.
Force Analysis
(A/N: This is just a rough note so you know what, exactly, you're getting into without narrative getting in the way.)
(A/N 2: Ship stats are Name (HP/Max Lift; Weapons Mounts) with unknown HP and Max Lift amounts listed as dice ranges. Think using a Heal check in D&D to get a rough guess of how tough a monster is)
Friendly Force:
Carolina Anaheim: (45/180; 1x Spinal (Fair), 2x Broadside (Fair), 1x Espatiers)
Enemy Force
1x Light Skiff (1d8/3d10; 1x Broadside (Poor), 3x Pirates)
1x Heavy Skiff (2d8/3d10; 1x Broadside (Poor), 4x Pirates)
1x Small Cutter (2d10/4d10; 2x Broadside (Poor), 2x Pirates)
Votes:
[] Run like hell- you're a merchantman, and reasonably fast. Try and disengage and retreat- it might work!
[] Fight it out- You've had a look at these pirates, and they look like they're about to fall out of the sky.
-[] How? (WRITE-IN)
(A/N 3: This isn't a pushover random encounter, but it is fairly easy. You're not fighting serious opposition here, you're fighting things small enough for you to carry as helper boats.)
(A/N 4: To kill a ship, either reduce it's HP to 0 or reduce it's Lift below it's HP long enough to force it to crash)
"Well then, Miss Lucia." You said, smirking and adopting the traditional swordsman duelist stance, one hand behind the back. "Have at thee."
Your Espatier's eyebrow raised. "Really." She said, flat for a moment. "Really."
"Yes. Dead certain. Take the first swing."
Shaking her head, Lucia sighed, adopted a ready stance, and gave a weapon salute. The next thing you noticed was her axe coming at your head somewhere between the speeds of 'oh crap' and 'murder'.
Of course, just because you weren't an axe-fighter by trade didn't mean you didn't know what you were doing. Moving in fast, your left forearm interposed itself in the path of the incoming swing, and your right hand and the hatchet in it took the classic headsman's horizontal chop. It would have been close enough to end the spar, if it wasn't for the fact Lucia knew how to duck. Rolling back and popping up in recovery, she glared at you darkly.
"That should have sliced your arm up, probably broken it too."
Taking your left hand down, you flicked your left wrist to reveal your belt knife, now with a long streak on it from where the cheap axe ground itself on good steel. "I'm a firm believer in not correcting my opponent's mistakes." You said, chuckling. "It's quite rude."
Now Lucia's eyes tightened. "You're a hell of an actor, then." She said, producing her own knife. "But that doesn't mean you're a good fighter."
You nodded, and the fight renewed. Lucia was a driving fighter, moving in and contesting your space constantly. Knifework almost seemed to render the hatchet useless, until an arcing chop tried to take you out and you had to frantically parry. You got the jump on her once, and if you stood any chance of at least ending this in a tie then you'd need to do it again.
Analyzing Lucia was a futile endeavor. She was good- very good. More importantly, she was better than you by enough you couldn't even get a read on her, which means you were going to have to go way outside the box. Blocking her next thrust with your hatchet, you dropped to the ground- and then you rolled.
The space of the cargo hold you were in was about forty feet wide by sixty long- and you knew where exactly your sabre had landed up when Lucia pitched it. This bottom-most deck was mostly open, with the few interuptions aside from latticework to support the above deck's cargo areas and lateral reinforcement of the partial belt struts. As such, your roll put you next to one of these struts, which you desperately used to pull yourself up and parry the next incoming blow. It was three more steps to get to your sword- but you never made it that far.
You knew, intellectually, that Lucia must have figured out the get-to-the-sword gambit, and her next sidestep attacks proved it. Now the hatchet took the lead, and you found yourself frantically parrying and weaving to avoid her strikes. It was moments later that you found yourself tripping backwards over the same strut you'd braced off of earlier, falling flat back.
"I think I win." Lucia said, chuckling. That black look was gone, now, and you were glad for it- that look reminded you of things best forgotten.
"Yeah." You replied, standing up and shaking out your hands after sheathing your knife and tucking the tomahawk in your belt. "I'd have won with the sword, though."
"Hah!" your Espatier Chief laughed, slugging you in the arm. "We'll see, some other day. Shift change is soon, though, and I'm officer on deck for the aft."
Nodding, you scratched your chin. You didn't have duty anytime soon, so your options on what to do were only limited by what you thought needed doing. Thinking to yourself for a minute, you decided to head aft yourself to check the engineering quarters.
---
Moving carefully through the belly of the ship, you ascended a ladder to the main beltway of the ship. The Caroline Anaheim was nearly eighty feet tall, apex to nadir of the keels, and the beltway was supposedly the highway on which travel was supposed to happen. Just above the second deck fore, it continued all the way to the steering gears aft. Right now, though, you were taking advantage of the fact it was the only continuous path from bow to stern that didn't jig around the lift cells. Passing through, you looked down occasionally at the bustling cargo holds and out at the taunt lift cells. Taking a moment, you listened to the air cautiously. Lift cells were always kept slightly pressurized so any bursts would push the hydrogen out, and not suck air in. The theory was a fire in the hull was easier to contain than a lift cell explosion getting burning material everywhere, but you personally disliked both accident's end results- a mass abandon ship.
Still, even if you couldn't hear the leak of a bad cell, you could hear the pulse of the ship. Things had a sound… and the sound of the ship was unsatisfied. She was unhappy, something about things just not sitting right. As you got ready to proceed on down to the engine rooms, one of the ship's runners slid down from a topset railing.
"Cap'n! Cap'n!" the boy yelled, looking at you avidly. "Th' Navigator says we're approaching the drop point!"
"Noted." You replied, looking at the kid. "Please relay to the engines we'll be entering atmosphere soon, start warming the boilers to half heat."
"Aye, sir!" the runner said, scrambling off down the centerway. Reversing course, you headed back to just over the bridge- a short walk, barely two minutes. Once over the bridge, getting there was simple: just slide down the ladder until you hit the bridge gondola floor with a 'thunk'.
"Captain on deck!" the engine telegrapher called, snapping off a fast salute. Returning it, you moved over to your chair.
"Captain has the con." You told Donald, tapping him on the shoulder. He looked at you languidly, and you mentally sighed. He was born on Terra Firma, and while it didn't often show you knew it affected his tolerance of the Aether.
"Aye-aye, cap'n." Donald replied, far too late. "Cap'n has the con."
"Go to bed, Donald." You said crisply, looking him in the eye. "I forgot about you and Aether."
"I don' mind." He said, stumbling off to the rear of the bridge. "Th' colors, though… you look too long and it start's saying things…"
"Yes, Donald. Go to sleep."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n."
As your first mate started to stumble into a wall, you sighed quietly. "Caller, send to the mess hall for someone to take Mr. Zamwekis to his cabin."
---
It was barely a minute later when Elizabeth came down to the bridge, an astrolabe in one hand and octant in the other. Unlike before, she seemed alive, energized by the gasses and shapes flowing around you. Somehow, you knew your earlier fears about disturbing her in her nest were ill-founded.
"Captain Aleksander! Captain! You see the point, yes?"
Sitting down in your chair carefully, you pulled out a spyglass and scryed the sky carefully. "I'm afraid not."
"Ah… you want to look at the green node, alright?"
Zooming out with a twist, you scanned carefully. "Can I get a heading on this Aetheric point, hmm? Azimuth off bow and elevation, please?"
"Twenty-five degrees, and five degrees, Captain. Right there, see it?"
Looking carefully, you finally spotted the green node, sparking merrily.
"That's not what nodes normally look like…" you muttered, looking at your Navigator.
"Well… it's not the normal node for this route, but there's going to be a lot of congestion up there." Elizabeth said, shy. "That one's a little less stable, so take the sails down first- but it'll put us out only a short jog from where we need to access the next current!"
"Alright." you said, calmly. "Caller, signal for sails and mast lowered, then send for the engines to full power on current steam load."
"Aye, sir."
---
This node felt distinctly electric, and as you saw the ship slide out, your bridge crew breathed a sigh of relief. The exception to the rule was your Navigator, who just sighed and started to shuffle off.
"Alright, all hands, smooth transition." You said, smiling. "Pilot, estimated local time?"
"Looks to be about six o'clock." Jack said, sighing as he set the course. "We'll need relative bearings- I presume we'll be getting them soon?"
"Soon enough." You said, relaxing. "Soon-"
"Captain!" the talker said, panicking. "Spotters have sighted three ships inbound, no sigils flying! They're on intercept in five minutes, and starboard thinks he sees a black flag!"
Grimacing, you struggled to think. Pirates. Pirates. Pirates. It had to be pirates. God damn it all to hell, the last thing you needed was pirates!
"Sir? Sir!"
Looking carefully, you saw them. A pair of skiffs, and a cutter. Fight, or run? Fight, or run? Risk that lean cutter being faster than you, or risk them having guns more advanced than muzzleloading cannon?
Either way, the time to decide was now.
Force Analysis
(A/N: This is just a rough note so you know what, exactly, you're getting into without narrative getting in the way.)
(A/N 2: Ship stats are Name (HP/Max Lift; Weapons Mounts) with unknown HP and Max Lift amounts listed as dice ranges. Think using a Heal check in D&D to get a rough guess of how tough a monster is)
Friendly Force:
Carolina Anaheim: (45/180; 1x Spinal (Fair), 2x Broadside (Fair), 1x Espatiers)
Enemy Force
1x Light Skiff (1d8/3d10; 1x Broadside (Poor), 3x Pirates)
1x Heavy Skiff (2d8/3d10; 1x Broadside (Poor), 4x Pirates)
1x Small Cutter (2d10/4d10; 2x Broadside (Poor), 2x Pirates)
Votes:
[] Run like hell- you're a merchantman, and reasonably fast. Try and disengage and retreat- it might work!
[] Fight it out- You've had a look at these pirates, and they look like they're about to fall out of the sky.
-[] How? (WRITE-IN)
(A/N 3: This isn't a pushover random encounter, but it is fairly easy. You're not fighting serious opposition here, you're fighting things small enough for you to carry as helper boats.)
(A/N 4: To kill a ship, either reduce it's HP to 0 or reduce it's Lift below it's HP long enough to force it to crash)
Last edited:
Danse Macabre
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Looking out the window, you hissed quietly. Pirates. God damn them, pirates! You were barely armed, had no armor, and were on your maiden voyage no less! Still, as your veins went to ice, you heard your father's voice in your head, the mariner and airman of nearly thirty years before his disappearance speaking loud and clear.
"Pirates are a menance, Aleksander, make no mistake. They're ruthless, cruel-hearted things. They favor fast ships, light and quick to overtake their lumbering prey. Never travel unarmed, and hopefully never unescorted either. When you meet them, fight, and fight hard. They hate to spend their loot on anything they can't use, so don't expect them to bring many weapons to bear- good guns are expensive, after all."
"All hands to battle stations!" you said, looking around carefully. "Telegrapher, engines to full steam, speed full reverse. Helm, bring our bow gun onto them, and set flaps to twenty degree climb! Talker, I want Espatiers ready to repel boarders- we're not getting out of this without entering the melee!"
As a round of "Aye, Sir!" went out, you carefully leaned forward to see what was about to happen.
{Handle Ship: 1d100=47 +20(Pilot) +15(Ship Bonus) -10(Reverse Manuver)= 65/60 Success!}
It was a bumpy few seconds as the engines went to full astern, and you could hear Jack grunting as the ship's helm started fighting him as the reverse airflow stated interfering with his flaps.
"Captain, we're not going to be able to sustain this maneuver." He grunted out, checking his rudder movements constantly. "The tail flaps aren't built for it!"
"Hold it as long as you can." You said, calm. "Talker, gun crews are to fire when ready!"
"Guns are ready- firing!"
{Fire Gun x10: 1d100 (10)= 76, 21, 33, 73, 19, 41, 94, 83, 69, 63 +10(Master Gunner) +5 (Gun Crew) -15(Maneuvering Ship) -20(Small Targets) 2/10 hits!}
Feeling your ship rattle and rumble from the prolounged back engines, you watched the black puffs of exploding shells rain down on the pirate floatilla. It should have been an inspiring sight, except for the fact Lauri was missing so damn much! Two hits in ten shots, only two hits!
"Message for the captain- backwards turbulence spoiling aim!" the talker said, looking at you. Nodding at him, you called out to the engine telegrapher and pilot.
"All engines full, hard port rudder. We can't keep-"
{Ship Handling: 1d100=18 +15(Ship) +20(Pilot)= 53/60 Failure!}
For a second, you paused as a loud crack rang out and the yokes slammed into Jack. Pailing, the Talker looked at you.
"Damage report from engineering- main elevator coupler just snapped!" the talker said, looking at you expectantly and listening. "They have it under local control and can do a midair repair once the fight's done, and piloting station will have secondary elevator control soon!"
"Thought that might happen." Jack muttered, rubbing his head from where the yoke hit him. "Croixs-Zeppelin tail surfaces hate backdrafts."
"Well, next time tell me." You said, frowining. "Talker, send to broadside gun stations to prepare for engagement."
"Wilco."
Your mind was churning, wheels turning. You'd gained some altitude on the pirates, and maybe a minute with that little stunt. In exchange, you'd definitely need some time in a serious port facility to commission a new main elevator coupler.
BOOOM…
Growling, you heard the whistle of the enemy cannon, and hissed quietly. "It seems the bastards want to fire at us. Talker to Guns- take out the one that just shot at us!"
"Aye sir!"
{Fire Gun x10: 1d100 (10)= 42, 82, 40, 55, 23, 49, 38, 61, 41, 15 +10(Master Gunner) +5 (Gun Crew) -20(Small Targets) 1/10 hits!}
Again, you watched the barrage of angry shells fly out, the time with only one hitting the offending skiff that had fired on you. The shell's explosion left it tattered, the crew frantically scrambling to jettison material as you saw it stagger drunkenly and descend without the precipts of control behind it. The first craft you'd hit was in similar condition, having jettisoned the guns with attached parachutes for a resumed later recovery. Ballast had already been dumped, the water glimmering as it trickled out of the holes in the tanks they used.
"Port broadside claims they have a solution, sir" the talker said, avidly watching the destruction.
"Port broadside may fire at will."
{Fire Gun x10: 1d100 (10)= 8, 2, 39, 79, 20, 10, 87, 41, 30, 80, 95, 93 +5(Gun Crew) -20(Small Targets) -10(No ranging) 3/10 hits!)
As the Gatling mounted in the Caroline Anaheim's waist opened up, you watched with intrest as seemingly nothing happened, until the stream of bullets crossed over the enemy craft for a moment. Undettered, the gunners kept searching with their streams, finally getting a solid bead and raking the craft over. Moments later, a lucky shot caught her engines or fuel tanks, prompting a fireball in the sky as the ship's fuel caught on fire, her hydrogen balloons going off a moment later.
Hissing, you watched the fireball carefully, shapes plummeting from the balloon.
"They knew what they were getting into." Jack said flatly, nudging the nose further port to give the gunners better shots on the remaining two craft. "Let's hope they don't mind learning how soft the ground isn't."
"Still…" you murmered, thoughts racing to the lift cells that held your own craft airborne. "It can't… just…"
"And this is why I left the Navy." Jack grumbled, kicking the elevator up a half degree. "Yo, Gauges, what's our feet ASL?"
"About six fifty, Chief."
"Gotcha."
Shaking your head to get the macabre thoughts out of your mind, you thought carefully. Your Espatiers needed to be blooded, after all, and your ship was a nightmare to fight in. Besides, given the massive trauma those lifters had taken you figured that they wouldn't be shooting any more. Damage control would be a far more important task.
"Talker, get me the Espatier Chief."
Moments later, Lucia was on call. Moving over to the talker's station, you moved over to the listening pipe.
"Captain to Espatier Chief- How do you feel about a practice boarding?"
You could feel Lucia scoffing, and her denial was no surprise. "Hell no. We're barely capable of fighting on this ship, and I don't think you've got boarder recovery equipment. Besides, better to just put those two ships down and be off with it."
"Alright, then." You said, stepping away and letting the talker take his post back. "Order a resumption of fire."
---
Sighing, you wiped a little exhaustion sweat from your brow before heading to the wardroom to meet with McCloud, the chief engineer about that steering linkage. The rest of the battle had concluded long ago, but you wanted to learn about the one piece of damage you'd sustained.
"Captain." The man said, standing up as you entered. "Good to see you."
"Likewise." You said, before looking at the schematic on the table. "I take it this is the diagram for the broken part?"
"Yep." McCloud said, chuckling. "One standard control chain rod. We've got a spare, but they're not cheap."
"Think they've got 'em in Toulouse?" you asked, joking. McCloud shook his head.
"Nope. We'd have to custom-order it, and Toulouse isn't one of the better places for it. We could probably pick one up in Vienna, though."
"Vienna?" you asked. "I never knew the Austrians to be big in the aerostat trade."
"They're not." McCloud said, chuckling. "Thing is, the Germans are, and they're very friendly with the Austrians. More importantly, the southern Serbs are starting to figure out that the skies are the road to the future, and the Russians aren't having it. Might lead to a war eventually, and God knows tensions there are running high, but until then Vienna's the place to pick up American airship parts."
"Noted." You said, chuckling. "We'll have to see if we can arrange a layover there after Toulouse."
"Who knows?" you said, smiling.
Who knew indeed?
VOTES
Battle won- what do?
[] Head into port, report the pirates and see if you can find a new spare.
[] Straight for the Aether- you have hot cargo in your holds, and you need to get it to Toulouse or you're going to run out of money uncomfortably fast.
[] Drop off a message at port, but keep moving. Something's telling you to stay moving, and it's not the promise of a paycheck.
You've got more sky to travel, and enough free time to start planning what to do better next time. What's your next improvement going to be like?
[] You're short on skilled hands and long on ratings. You need to get that fixed!
[] Today showed that while you might be able to beat off a mess of rats, you're no warship. Most air-routes aren't safe, so that might stand changing.
[] Blowing open a chunk of your steering system by accident is a hell of a reminder you need to keep learning the limitations of your ship.
Last edited:
Silk and Canvas
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Sighing quietly, you sat in your Bridge Chair and looked around. You should be on hand for this, and anyway all you were doing was looking for the main Aether transference point. Still, you and everyone were rattled after getting jumped, so things were not exactly skippy.
"Captain." Jack said, calmly from his piloting chair. "Listen, you know this is going to be slow, right?"
"Yes." You said, breathing in and out.
"Well, mind letting me off shift a little early?" Jack asked, hopefully.
"Hmmm." You replied, raising an eyebrow. "On one hand, fresh pilot for the Aether transition tomorrow. On the other hand, said transmission is again tomorrow. Plus I have the midnight watch, and that's bound to be fun."
Jack blinked a few times at this. "Wait. I've got the morning to noon. Who's our third pilot?"
"Me." You said, chuckling. "Didn't exactly have the cash on hand to buy a crew, and a ship, and a cargo. Had to cut somewhere."
"You paid me in shares." Jack said, blinking. "I never asked how much said shares were worth."
"Well, considering that right now we're worth the ship and the cargo and that's it…" you said, shrugging. "Right now, we're actually pretty well set up for treading water. A good trip after this, and we should be raking in the cash."
"My Da told me never to accept pay in shares." Jack muttered, before you patted his shoulder.
"Relax, Jack! How long have you known me?"
"Eight months ish."
"And have I ever done you wrong?"
Jack raised an eye. "Aside from a pressing case of alligator arms, no."
"Exactly." You said, chuckling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to catch a nap."
---
Moving off the bridge, you went to your modest cabin and sighed. The captain's cabin was almost on top of the bridge, and more importantly was also right under the crew's mess. Anaheim Shipbuilding had fucked up the design there all right. Sighing, you just stripped down to a ratty pair of breeches to sleep in and buried yourself in the nest of covers and duvets that made up your bed. Curling up in a ball, you started to snooze happily.
Hours passed, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Muttering, you looked out at Donald, who just smirked at you.
"Navigator's found the next jump point, and we're about a half hour out." He said, looking at you. "C'mon, Alek, up and at 'em."
"For fuck's sake, Donald…" you muttered. "Can't a man wake up by himself?"
"You? No." he said, chuckling. "C'mon, there's soup in the kitchen, and the cooks have mostly fresh bread."
"Fiiiiiine." You complained, getting out and getting dressed quickly in the cool air. "Gonna need to look into a better heating system." You said, frowning.
"Yeah, well, it's an Anaheim boat." Donald said, pointing to the company seal buried in a bulkhead. "You know they hate running steam lines outside the engine rooms."
"No, actually, I didn't." you replied, slinging on your coat. "My dad's ship was a tea clipper from Roscoe and Heismann."
Leaving your room, you took the short walk to the kitchen's small wardroom. An officer's mess in essence, there was a counter to the kitchen where a server stood, blinking.
"Food." You said, making food-shaped gestures. The server nodded, passing you a steaming mug of tea. Taking a sip, you grinned. Coffee it might not be, but a thick black tea was almost as good. Soon enough, a bowl of black bean soup followed up with a thick ham sandwich were produced. Dipping the sandwich in the soup, you looked around for Donald, who'd predictably disappeared to do first-mate-y things. Once the soup and sandwich were done, you topped off on tea and got back to the bridge.
"Captain on deck." You said, smirking quietly. Jack looked half-dead at the wheel when you tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to move.
"You sure?" he asked, blinking. Nodding, you shooed him off the bridge.
---
It was ten minutes later when Elisabeth showed up, smoothing her skirt out and now only with her octant.
"Good morning, Elizabeth." You said cordially, watching her take a bearing carefully. Wordlessly, she nodded and scurried around to her seat, looking at one of her charts carefully.
Minutes later, you sighed. It was just you, her, and the signals man here right now on the bridge, and to be frank the odds of your designated staring man striking up a conversation were none. Sighing, you squinted a little, looking for the flashes in the sky. Fiddling with a slide rule, Elisabeth frowned behind you.
"Captain… I think it's going to be a high point."
"Noted." You replied, taking a moment to engage the lock on the wheel and walk over to the talker's tubes. "Bridge to forward lookouts, come in."
"Forward lookouts, aye." A voice replied, their teeth practicly clattering. "We can't see shit, Bridge. Also, there's icing on the forward cats."
"Rodger." You said, rolling your shoulders. Looking over at Elisabeth, you sighed and started scanning the skies. Looking over to port, you thought you saw a glimmer. "Is that it?"
Humming, Elisabeth checked her charts. "Should be."
{Handle Ship Roll: 1d100= 77 +39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) -25 (Murky Transition) 101/80}
"Wait, I think I see it." You said, squinting. "Gonna be a hat trick to grab it. Can you ask the spotters what the wind is?"
Nodding, Elisabeth went to the speaking pipes, coming back moments later. "Wind off our port stern, small downdraft."
"Good, good." You replied. "Alright, time to fly."
Reaching over, you slugged down the last of your tea, and pocketed the warm mug before reaching over. Pulling the elevators to the max before the alarms, you looked at the gauge man.
"What's our angle of ascent?"
"Eight degrees, sir."
Frowning, you looked over. Disabling the angle alarm on the elevators with a sharp rap, you kicked it up further until you felt the deck stabilize.
"Fifteen degrees, sir. We're at max ascending tilt."
Glaring at the Aether Point, you slapped the alarms. Now it was time to strike the rudder, jiggling the elevators to put some roll in the ship. Locking your feet against the deck, you held the wheel steady as you approached.
"Navigator!" you called out, hearing the Roll and Tilt alarms sounding. "What's the other side look like?"
"I don't know!" she said, holding onto her chair with a death grip.
"Only one way to-" you yelled, as you transitioned abruptly. Unlike before, this one was sharp, lighting your skin on fire for a brief second as you pushed through.
That's when you heard the wind.
{Handle Ship Roll: 1d100= 7 +39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) 66/65}
"FUCK!" you roared, as the ship started rolling sharply. You'd come in sideways to the wind, and with your elevators still canted you were starting to go into freefall if you didn't grab the roof handle as you ballenced the elevators.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" yelled Elisabeth as she toppled out of her chair, banging into the speaker's station as the ship nearly went to a right angle of reality. Meanwhile, you were slamming the emergency alarm, balancing the rudder, and trying to get the ship steady. As the roll started to subside, you hissed quietly as you kept slamming on the elevators to keep the ship's rocking down.
"AAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhh…" Elisabeth said, petering off. "My ribs…"
Sighing, you opened the top button on your coat and breathed out. "Damage report?" you asked carefully, looking around. The gauges man seemed to be doing fine, having grabbed his strap and stayed at his station through thick and thin. Elisabeth was moaning quietly, and you were sweating bullets.
"The hell?" Donald yelled, coming through the door angrily. "What happened, Alek?"
"Bad transition." You said, sighing. "Scrounge up a spare helmsman, please. I need to do something."
Shit Happened.
[] (Write-in)
"Captain." Jack said, calmly from his piloting chair. "Listen, you know this is going to be slow, right?"
"Yes." You said, breathing in and out.
"Well, mind letting me off shift a little early?" Jack asked, hopefully.
"Hmmm." You replied, raising an eyebrow. "On one hand, fresh pilot for the Aether transition tomorrow. On the other hand, said transmission is again tomorrow. Plus I have the midnight watch, and that's bound to be fun."
Jack blinked a few times at this. "Wait. I've got the morning to noon. Who's our third pilot?"
"Me." You said, chuckling. "Didn't exactly have the cash on hand to buy a crew, and a ship, and a cargo. Had to cut somewhere."
"You paid me in shares." Jack said, blinking. "I never asked how much said shares were worth."
"Well, considering that right now we're worth the ship and the cargo and that's it…" you said, shrugging. "Right now, we're actually pretty well set up for treading water. A good trip after this, and we should be raking in the cash."
"My Da told me never to accept pay in shares." Jack muttered, before you patted his shoulder.
"Relax, Jack! How long have you known me?"
"Eight months ish."
"And have I ever done you wrong?"
Jack raised an eye. "Aside from a pressing case of alligator arms, no."
"Exactly." You said, chuckling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to catch a nap."
---
Moving off the bridge, you went to your modest cabin and sighed. The captain's cabin was almost on top of the bridge, and more importantly was also right under the crew's mess. Anaheim Shipbuilding had fucked up the design there all right. Sighing, you just stripped down to a ratty pair of breeches to sleep in and buried yourself in the nest of covers and duvets that made up your bed. Curling up in a ball, you started to snooze happily.
Hours passed, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Muttering, you looked out at Donald, who just smirked at you.
"Navigator's found the next jump point, and we're about a half hour out." He said, looking at you. "C'mon, Alek, up and at 'em."
"For fuck's sake, Donald…" you muttered. "Can't a man wake up by himself?"
"You? No." he said, chuckling. "C'mon, there's soup in the kitchen, and the cooks have mostly fresh bread."
"Fiiiiiine." You complained, getting out and getting dressed quickly in the cool air. "Gonna need to look into a better heating system." You said, frowning.
"Yeah, well, it's an Anaheim boat." Donald said, pointing to the company seal buried in a bulkhead. "You know they hate running steam lines outside the engine rooms."
"No, actually, I didn't." you replied, slinging on your coat. "My dad's ship was a tea clipper from Roscoe and Heismann."
Leaving your room, you took the short walk to the kitchen's small wardroom. An officer's mess in essence, there was a counter to the kitchen where a server stood, blinking.
"Food." You said, making food-shaped gestures. The server nodded, passing you a steaming mug of tea. Taking a sip, you grinned. Coffee it might not be, but a thick black tea was almost as good. Soon enough, a bowl of black bean soup followed up with a thick ham sandwich were produced. Dipping the sandwich in the soup, you looked around for Donald, who'd predictably disappeared to do first-mate-y things. Once the soup and sandwich were done, you topped off on tea and got back to the bridge.
"Captain on deck." You said, smirking quietly. Jack looked half-dead at the wheel when you tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to move.
"You sure?" he asked, blinking. Nodding, you shooed him off the bridge.
---
It was ten minutes later when Elisabeth showed up, smoothing her skirt out and now only with her octant.
"Good morning, Elizabeth." You said cordially, watching her take a bearing carefully. Wordlessly, she nodded and scurried around to her seat, looking at one of her charts carefully.
Minutes later, you sighed. It was just you, her, and the signals man here right now on the bridge, and to be frank the odds of your designated staring man striking up a conversation were none. Sighing, you squinted a little, looking for the flashes in the sky. Fiddling with a slide rule, Elisabeth frowned behind you.
"Captain… I think it's going to be a high point."
"Noted." You replied, taking a moment to engage the lock on the wheel and walk over to the talker's tubes. "Bridge to forward lookouts, come in."
"Forward lookouts, aye." A voice replied, their teeth practicly clattering. "We can't see shit, Bridge. Also, there's icing on the forward cats."
"Rodger." You said, rolling your shoulders. Looking over at Elisabeth, you sighed and started scanning the skies. Looking over to port, you thought you saw a glimmer. "Is that it?"
Humming, Elisabeth checked her charts. "Should be."
{Handle Ship Roll: 1d100= 77 +39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) -25 (Murky Transition) 101/80}
"Wait, I think I see it." You said, squinting. "Gonna be a hat trick to grab it. Can you ask the spotters what the wind is?"
Nodding, Elisabeth went to the speaking pipes, coming back moments later. "Wind off our port stern, small downdraft."
"Good, good." You replied. "Alright, time to fly."
Reaching over, you slugged down the last of your tea, and pocketed the warm mug before reaching over. Pulling the elevators to the max before the alarms, you looked at the gauge man.
"What's our angle of ascent?"
"Eight degrees, sir."
Frowning, you looked over. Disabling the angle alarm on the elevators with a sharp rap, you kicked it up further until you felt the deck stabilize.
"Fifteen degrees, sir. We're at max ascending tilt."
Glaring at the Aether Point, you slapped the alarms. Now it was time to strike the rudder, jiggling the elevators to put some roll in the ship. Locking your feet against the deck, you held the wheel steady as you approached.
"Navigator!" you called out, hearing the Roll and Tilt alarms sounding. "What's the other side look like?"
"I don't know!" she said, holding onto her chair with a death grip.
"Only one way to-" you yelled, as you transitioned abruptly. Unlike before, this one was sharp, lighting your skin on fire for a brief second as you pushed through.
That's when you heard the wind.
{Handle Ship Roll: 1d100= 7 +39(Air Sense) +5(Skyborn) +15(Ship Bonus) 66/65}
"FUCK!" you roared, as the ship started rolling sharply. You'd come in sideways to the wind, and with your elevators still canted you were starting to go into freefall if you didn't grab the roof handle as you ballenced the elevators.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" yelled Elisabeth as she toppled out of her chair, banging into the speaker's station as the ship nearly went to a right angle of reality. Meanwhile, you were slamming the emergency alarm, balancing the rudder, and trying to get the ship steady. As the roll started to subside, you hissed quietly as you kept slamming on the elevators to keep the ship's rocking down.
"AAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhh…" Elisabeth said, petering off. "My ribs…"
Sighing, you opened the top button on your coat and breathed out. "Damage report?" you asked carefully, looking around. The gauges man seemed to be doing fine, having grabbed his strap and stayed at his station through thick and thin. Elisabeth was moaning quietly, and you were sweating bullets.
"The hell?" Donald yelled, coming through the door angrily. "What happened, Alek?"
"Bad transition." You said, sighing. "Scrounge up a spare helmsman, please. I need to do something."
Shit Happened.
[] (Write-in)
Above Toulouse, Sale and Growth
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Waving your hair back with a damp hand, you went over to Elisabeth. She'd stopped screaming, and as the rudder stayed steady, you went over to check on her.
"Aaah…" she moaned, holding her ribs and slumping on the floor. Shaking your head, you carefully picked up her form, marveling quietly at how light she was. You knew Elisabeth wasn't terribly sturdy, but as you carefully set her down in your Captain's Chair you sighed quietly. There was a line between thin and frail, and Elisabeth was most definetly the later.
Moving to the speaking pipes, you sighed quietly. "Bridge to all stations. Damage report?"
It was a moment later that someone responded. "Bridge, this is Engines. The fuck was that?"
"Bad transition." You replied, droll. "Status?"
"Everything's a little sloshed, no major inuries." The engineer on shift said dully. "Gonna need to unjam the coal scuttles, though, and check the grates."
"Noted. Contact back if problems persist." You said, letting the conversation die moments before Deck Division called.
"Bridge, this is Deck. You want sail yet?"
You nodded, and spoke. "Yeah, get me… three-quarter sail. We loose anything important?"
"Nope. Think one of the spotters saw an unsecured hand or three fly off, but all our guys are safe and sound."
You sighed quietly again. "We'll do roll call back at port. Bridge out."
"Foreword Spotters to Bridge, come in." another person said, and you just sighed, moving to the next pipe.
"Foreword, this is Bridge. What's your status?"
"Couple of injuries, a few major. We're sending them down to Medical now."
"Rodger." You said, sighing. "No fatalities, right?"
"Nothing major, no. Worst we had was a couple of guys in the mess get banged around. Aside from some trouble with stray cutlery, we're fine."
"Good." You said, breathing out. Alright, time to get Czeslawa and-
"Captain!"
Turning, you looked your Polish nurse straight in the boob as she glared at you from where she was standing as you found yourself on the floor. Holding your hand up to your head, you felt it stick lightly, and sighed. Probably clipped a lever at some point, earning you a little crease. Now, when did you end up on the floor?
"Captain! What were you thinking?" Czeslawa asked, sighing as she looked at Elisabeth. "Never mind, never mind. I'll take Elisabeth, then you. Can you walk?"
While you said "yes," Elisabeth just moaned, earning a quick pat-over from Czeslawa and a brisk lift-and-carry out of the bridge. Pulling yourself to your feet, you briefly regretted not sitting down yourself as your head swam and eyes watered. Grabbing a dangling brace strap from the ceiling, you slowly made your way to the exit of the bridge, and from there the infirmary.
You had to admit, when you'd purchased the ship you'd originally thought the medical facilities aboard were a little ridiculous. Thirty beds, plus a gimbaled pharmacy cabinet and counter in a gyroscopic roundel, plus a stabilized operating table, along with a private bath was more than a little overkill in your opinion. Heck, the ship was only required to have ten beds and a locked medicine cabinet for laudanum and morphine.
Now wasn't a good time to complain about an oversized medical bay, though. It was half-full, more than a few of the patients with the odd bandage about, some in splints.
"Men!" Czeslawa muttered, making sure Elisabeth was comfortable. As Elisabeth mumbled something in protest, you made sure to bandage up your head and let Czeslawa look you over. When she finished, she had to sigh.
"I know it was an accident, but please! Try and take care of the ship, okay?"
Nodding, you sighed. "I know, I know. Should have swung around for another pass, made sure we were entering level…"
"Just be careful!" she exclaimed, giving you a warm hug. Nodding, you got up to get a sandwich and back on station.
---
It was about four days later that the Caroline Anaheim slipped out of the Aether, and towards Toulouse. You were a little ragged at this point, as things had not been going too terribly well. The rough entrance had been but one hiccup on your international shakedown, and between cooking disasters, a failure in one loadmaster who wasn't one at all, and piloting, you'd been getting too little sleep and far too much stress. Some of the cooks claimed you'd drank a third of the ship's tea, and others insisted you were married to the wheel.
While not quite true, it wasn't far from it. Aside from going through the engineering sections and learning as much as you could about your maneuvering systems and the turboelectric motors that drove your ship, you also worked on accounting the cash flow of the ship. Food, water, coal, and hydrogen were your base expenses, with crew pay factored in on top of that. Aside from scrubbing the four idiots who weren't rated as actual airmen and hadn't filled out all their paperwork, you had all your ledgers and rosters in order for drop-off with the Airman's Guild and Union. While hazard and injury pay might hurt you pretty bad on the few who were going to be out of work for a while, you had accounted for that in the budget.
Now all you needed to do was sell your cargo. Hoo boy.
---
{Sell Goods: 1d100=37 +20(Bonded Cargo) +15(Trade Route) -10(New Customer) 62/60}
Looking over at the grumpy-looking clerk, you sighed quietly. This was not going to be a good day, was it?
"Papiers s'il vous plait" you heard, and you suddenly remembered through your sleepy fog: France. As in, French-speaking. Fortunatly, you knew French. Some French. Enough to get by on the other side of the border when you were in Quebec City or Montreal with Mother when she wanted to visit her family at least.
"One moment," you said, rusty conversational gears clinking and clacking around. "Here; cargo bonds for fifty-six tons native copper."
"Hmmmm." The clerk muttered, and it took you a long minute to dwelve through his French before the meaning came out. "I'm sorry, but we cannot authorize payment to one J. P. Morgan and Co. for payment on shipment. Do you have an account with a local bank?"
"No, J. P. Morgan and Co. is the bank the ship Caroline Anaheim uses for business."
"Can we arrange something with a local bank? Perhaps Fluret and Miserle?"
You shook your head, aggravated. "No. American banks only."
"A very closeminded view, Captain van Riebeck. There are some Dutch trading houses that could process a cash transaction."
Now you coughed, loudly. "If a payment through bankerage is impossible, we can always have a cash payment arranged."
The clerk frowned, but aquiesed. "We'll send a man over to your berth at the aerodrome once the cargo is unloaded."
You frowned. "No."
"Excuse me?"
"If we cannot come to a suitable arrangement on banks, I will not unload cargo until a cash transfer is arranged."
The clerk now glared at you. "That is distinctly improper."
"No, no it is not." You counterpointed. "There is absolutely nothing in our cargo bond that stipulates unloading or payment conditions."
"I will need to speak to a senior clerk." Your now-opponent said in closing.
---
It was about noon the next day that you finally got things arranged, mostly due to the fact you'd wired the J.P. & Morgan Company's Paris branch and gotten one of their adjusters to come out and put the fear of God into the locals. Nobody, bar none, screwed with them, and every day you counted your blessings your Father had managed to get a toe in with them in regards to handling shipping finances.
Now that you had the money in the bank, though, it was time to start thinking, and prepping for your next trip. Oh, where to look, where to look...
VOTES
Job Hunting: Where?
[] At the Airman's Guildhouse. Talk shop with other Captains, see what routes are solid and which ones are shaky.
[] At the Aerodrome. Not many people go straight to the source for cargo and delivery runs, but if they go here then they're not normal.
[] At the local expatriate bar: Ric's Cafe Americano. You've got some relaxing to do anyway- keeping an ear open is always a good plan.
Liquid Assets Distribution
[] Save any extra money from this run as a buffer
[] Spend on upgrades
-[] Improve Crew
-[] Improve Facilities
-[] Improve Weapons
-[] Improve Machinery
-[] Improve Aether Traits
"Aaah…" she moaned, holding her ribs and slumping on the floor. Shaking your head, you carefully picked up her form, marveling quietly at how light she was. You knew Elisabeth wasn't terribly sturdy, but as you carefully set her down in your Captain's Chair you sighed quietly. There was a line between thin and frail, and Elisabeth was most definetly the later.
Moving to the speaking pipes, you sighed quietly. "Bridge to all stations. Damage report?"
It was a moment later that someone responded. "Bridge, this is Engines. The fuck was that?"
"Bad transition." You replied, droll. "Status?"
"Everything's a little sloshed, no major inuries." The engineer on shift said dully. "Gonna need to unjam the coal scuttles, though, and check the grates."
"Noted. Contact back if problems persist." You said, letting the conversation die moments before Deck Division called.
"Bridge, this is Deck. You want sail yet?"
You nodded, and spoke. "Yeah, get me… three-quarter sail. We loose anything important?"
"Nope. Think one of the spotters saw an unsecured hand or three fly off, but all our guys are safe and sound."
You sighed quietly again. "We'll do roll call back at port. Bridge out."
"Foreword Spotters to Bridge, come in." another person said, and you just sighed, moving to the next pipe.
"Foreword, this is Bridge. What's your status?"
"Couple of injuries, a few major. We're sending them down to Medical now."
"Rodger." You said, sighing. "No fatalities, right?"
"Nothing major, no. Worst we had was a couple of guys in the mess get banged around. Aside from some trouble with stray cutlery, we're fine."
"Good." You said, breathing out. Alright, time to get Czeslawa and-
"Captain!"
Turning, you looked your Polish nurse straight in the boob as she glared at you from where she was standing as you found yourself on the floor. Holding your hand up to your head, you felt it stick lightly, and sighed. Probably clipped a lever at some point, earning you a little crease. Now, when did you end up on the floor?
"Captain! What were you thinking?" Czeslawa asked, sighing as she looked at Elisabeth. "Never mind, never mind. I'll take Elisabeth, then you. Can you walk?"
While you said "yes," Elisabeth just moaned, earning a quick pat-over from Czeslawa and a brisk lift-and-carry out of the bridge. Pulling yourself to your feet, you briefly regretted not sitting down yourself as your head swam and eyes watered. Grabbing a dangling brace strap from the ceiling, you slowly made your way to the exit of the bridge, and from there the infirmary.
You had to admit, when you'd purchased the ship you'd originally thought the medical facilities aboard were a little ridiculous. Thirty beds, plus a gimbaled pharmacy cabinet and counter in a gyroscopic roundel, plus a stabilized operating table, along with a private bath was more than a little overkill in your opinion. Heck, the ship was only required to have ten beds and a locked medicine cabinet for laudanum and morphine.
Now wasn't a good time to complain about an oversized medical bay, though. It was half-full, more than a few of the patients with the odd bandage about, some in splints.
"Men!" Czeslawa muttered, making sure Elisabeth was comfortable. As Elisabeth mumbled something in protest, you made sure to bandage up your head and let Czeslawa look you over. When she finished, she had to sigh.
"I know it was an accident, but please! Try and take care of the ship, okay?"
Nodding, you sighed. "I know, I know. Should have swung around for another pass, made sure we were entering level…"
"Just be careful!" she exclaimed, giving you a warm hug. Nodding, you got up to get a sandwich and back on station.
---
It was about four days later that the Caroline Anaheim slipped out of the Aether, and towards Toulouse. You were a little ragged at this point, as things had not been going too terribly well. The rough entrance had been but one hiccup on your international shakedown, and between cooking disasters, a failure in one loadmaster who wasn't one at all, and piloting, you'd been getting too little sleep and far too much stress. Some of the cooks claimed you'd drank a third of the ship's tea, and others insisted you were married to the wheel.
While not quite true, it wasn't far from it. Aside from going through the engineering sections and learning as much as you could about your maneuvering systems and the turboelectric motors that drove your ship, you also worked on accounting the cash flow of the ship. Food, water, coal, and hydrogen were your base expenses, with crew pay factored in on top of that. Aside from scrubbing the four idiots who weren't rated as actual airmen and hadn't filled out all their paperwork, you had all your ledgers and rosters in order for drop-off with the Airman's Guild and Union. While hazard and injury pay might hurt you pretty bad on the few who were going to be out of work for a while, you had accounted for that in the budget.
Now all you needed to do was sell your cargo. Hoo boy.
---
{Sell Goods: 1d100=37 +20(Bonded Cargo) +15(Trade Route) -10(New Customer) 62/60}
Looking over at the grumpy-looking clerk, you sighed quietly. This was not going to be a good day, was it?
"Papiers s'il vous plait" you heard, and you suddenly remembered through your sleepy fog: France. As in, French-speaking. Fortunatly, you knew French. Some French. Enough to get by on the other side of the border when you were in Quebec City or Montreal with Mother when she wanted to visit her family at least.
"One moment," you said, rusty conversational gears clinking and clacking around. "Here; cargo bonds for fifty-six tons native copper."
"Hmmmm." The clerk muttered, and it took you a long minute to dwelve through his French before the meaning came out. "I'm sorry, but we cannot authorize payment to one J. P. Morgan and Co. for payment on shipment. Do you have an account with a local bank?"
"No, J. P. Morgan and Co. is the bank the ship Caroline Anaheim uses for business."
"Can we arrange something with a local bank? Perhaps Fluret and Miserle?"
You shook your head, aggravated. "No. American banks only."
"A very closeminded view, Captain van Riebeck. There are some Dutch trading houses that could process a cash transaction."
Now you coughed, loudly. "If a payment through bankerage is impossible, we can always have a cash payment arranged."
The clerk frowned, but aquiesed. "We'll send a man over to your berth at the aerodrome once the cargo is unloaded."
You frowned. "No."
"Excuse me?"
"If we cannot come to a suitable arrangement on banks, I will not unload cargo until a cash transfer is arranged."
The clerk now glared at you. "That is distinctly improper."
"No, no it is not." You counterpointed. "There is absolutely nothing in our cargo bond that stipulates unloading or payment conditions."
"I will need to speak to a senior clerk." Your now-opponent said in closing.
---
It was about noon the next day that you finally got things arranged, mostly due to the fact you'd wired the J.P. & Morgan Company's Paris branch and gotten one of their adjusters to come out and put the fear of God into the locals. Nobody, bar none, screwed with them, and every day you counted your blessings your Father had managed to get a toe in with them in regards to handling shipping finances.
Now that you had the money in the bank, though, it was time to start thinking, and prepping for your next trip. Oh, where to look, where to look...
VOTES
Job Hunting: Where?
[] At the Airman's Guildhouse. Talk shop with other Captains, see what routes are solid and which ones are shaky.
[] At the Aerodrome. Not many people go straight to the source for cargo and delivery runs, but if they go here then they're not normal.
[] At the local expatriate bar: Ric's Cafe Americano. You've got some relaxing to do anyway- keeping an ear open is always a good plan.
Liquid Assets Distribution
[] Save any extra money from this run as a buffer
[] Spend on upgrades
-[] Improve Crew
-[] Improve Facilities
-[] Improve Weapons
-[] Improve Machinery
-[] Improve Aether Traits