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The groan of the airship shifting course was not unlike the dangerous sound of an immense house prepared to give way under the threat of a great quake; it was ghostly, loud, and cracked through the fog like a whip, announcing the position of the Bahamut Garde to any enemies that may be lurking just beyond the veil of fog that shrouded them so completely, their only protection. The captain was a rough man by the name of Irvine Jaeger, who swiveled around with a look of vehemence blazing in his single dark eye as every soul on the ship stilled, the bellow¬¬ of the wind in the sails the only thing that broke the heavy silence. The deck of the airship was as still as death for several beats, all eyes turned upon Irvine as he stood atop the raised platform to the ships rear, preparing to be admonished for their insubordination at keeping as silent as possible.
”How many times do I have t’ tell ya,” he hissed, not unlike the angry hiss of a venomous snake. ”If we don’t make it ‘t Solatrir, we’re as good as dead!” And with that he turned and strode angrily away, drawing an old compass from his pocket that whirled and whirled, stilling in no one direction for more than a second or so. There weren’t any numbers along the outer rim, or directional letters, but rather a score of tiny little pictures. He didn’t seem to draw any meaning from it, and merely it put it away after a few moments.
Irvine’s airship was one of the largest builds there was, a frightening beastly superpower loaded with guns and firepower, and a large crew to boot. If one were to look more carefully at the beastly Bahamut Garde the damage to her exterior was immense, for the crew had lost their mechanic and there was no one to tend her wounds. There were long black scars running the length of her sides, and the banister around the hull was ripped clean from its position in one place as though a giant mouth had torn it loose. The engine moaned when she was pushed to move too quickly or change courses, leaving the normally slow ship dangerously sluggish and open for attack. The crew was out of food, out of bullets, out of patience. Out of time. If they did not find a civilized settlement soon to rest and repair, they would be certainly be brought down.
For the past few days, the Captain had become aware of a smaller black object that flew not too far from them in Bahamut’s wake, an insect on silent wings. Only twice had it drifted close enough through the fog that any details could be seen, but he did not doubt for a moment that it was an enemy following them. From the sightings that had been made, the other ship was much smaller and alien in design, sleek and undecorated. No emblem on the side announced its purpose, and it never got close enough to attack them. It merely watched, and waited. This seemed to worry Irvine more than anything.
“Captain,” cried a voice below him, prompting him to tear his gaze from the horizon and look down. “Solatrir is not far below- should we land?” A few other crewmen looked up to gauge Irvine’s response.
The crude man wore his typical scowl, and nodded curtly. He swung on muscular arms around one of the support pillars and landed on the deck with more stealth than a man his size should possess, the cigarette in his mouth barely disturbed by the action. His vivid read hair was worn slicked back from his brow with a simple black bandana, and he we was mostly naked from the waist up. He wore an eye patch baring a triangular design across his left eye, and his ear jingled with several heavy gold rings. He took the wheel of the great ship in hand, shouldering aside the navigator, and swung her wide. He started issuing orders for her descent, causing a new flurry of activity to erupt on her deck. There were attempts to sway the Captain’s rash decision, but he had his mind set on a reckless plummet that would terrify the occupants of the small nameless village where they were going to land. Solatrir was too far, and he was tired of living in fear of that irritating black creature that flew in their wake. They had to live in perpetual silence to avoid drawing its attention, but it was so persistent that a sudden drop of altitude may finally lose it.
They would ravage this town, pillage them of all the food they could provide. If they had supplies, they would force them to repair their ship, and then it was off to Solatrir with them. And if that pesky black object decided to engage them, Irvine Jaegar would be prepared to meet them head-on in battle.
To the villagers, it would look as though the perpetual fog that permeated the streets of their town for centuries had suddenly opened up like a great mouth and the underside of the monstrous ship, larger than any structure in the entire town, would descend towards them at a sickening rate. They would be crushed lest they make way for it, yet there wasn’t even proper time for most of them to react to it. As luck would have it, the ship crash landed roughly in an area that was mostly open land, but that was not to say that some of the houses and buildings surrounded it weren’t damaged in the fall.
The crew converged like ants upon the people, scattering about with blades and guns drawn at the ready, scouring the nearest buildings for food, drink, and rest. Irvine took it upon himself to seek a capable mechanic.
"Get yer happy asses back on the ship by nightfall!" he bellowed, his rough voice carrying easily over the din of mayhem that claimed the usually sleepy town. He eyed the ship for a long moment, then rolled his pupil towards the sky and skimmed for the telltale inkblot of a shadow, only to find that the fog was even more oppressive below than above, and he could make out nothing. He wasn't sure whether or not this should please him.
He made his way to the nearest pile of scraps that looked nothing like a pub save for the crude hand painted sign hanging above it, prepared to order himself a well deserved drink before beginning his search.
”How many times do I have t’ tell ya,” he hissed, not unlike the angry hiss of a venomous snake. ”If we don’t make it ‘t Solatrir, we’re as good as dead!” And with that he turned and strode angrily away, drawing an old compass from his pocket that whirled and whirled, stilling in no one direction for more than a second or so. There weren’t any numbers along the outer rim, or directional letters, but rather a score of tiny little pictures. He didn’t seem to draw any meaning from it, and merely it put it away after a few moments.
Irvine’s airship was one of the largest builds there was, a frightening beastly superpower loaded with guns and firepower, and a large crew to boot. If one were to look more carefully at the beastly Bahamut Garde the damage to her exterior was immense, for the crew had lost their mechanic and there was no one to tend her wounds. There were long black scars running the length of her sides, and the banister around the hull was ripped clean from its position in one place as though a giant mouth had torn it loose. The engine moaned when she was pushed to move too quickly or change courses, leaving the normally slow ship dangerously sluggish and open for attack. The crew was out of food, out of bullets, out of patience. Out of time. If they did not find a civilized settlement soon to rest and repair, they would be certainly be brought down.
For the past few days, the Captain had become aware of a smaller black object that flew not too far from them in Bahamut’s wake, an insect on silent wings. Only twice had it drifted close enough through the fog that any details could be seen, but he did not doubt for a moment that it was an enemy following them. From the sightings that had been made, the other ship was much smaller and alien in design, sleek and undecorated. No emblem on the side announced its purpose, and it never got close enough to attack them. It merely watched, and waited. This seemed to worry Irvine more than anything.
“Captain,” cried a voice below him, prompting him to tear his gaze from the horizon and look down. “Solatrir is not far below- should we land?” A few other crewmen looked up to gauge Irvine’s response.
The crude man wore his typical scowl, and nodded curtly. He swung on muscular arms around one of the support pillars and landed on the deck with more stealth than a man his size should possess, the cigarette in his mouth barely disturbed by the action. His vivid read hair was worn slicked back from his brow with a simple black bandana, and he we was mostly naked from the waist up. He wore an eye patch baring a triangular design across his left eye, and his ear jingled with several heavy gold rings. He took the wheel of the great ship in hand, shouldering aside the navigator, and swung her wide. He started issuing orders for her descent, causing a new flurry of activity to erupt on her deck. There were attempts to sway the Captain’s rash decision, but he had his mind set on a reckless plummet that would terrify the occupants of the small nameless village where they were going to land. Solatrir was too far, and he was tired of living in fear of that irritating black creature that flew in their wake. They had to live in perpetual silence to avoid drawing its attention, but it was so persistent that a sudden drop of altitude may finally lose it.
They would ravage this town, pillage them of all the food they could provide. If they had supplies, they would force them to repair their ship, and then it was off to Solatrir with them. And if that pesky black object decided to engage them, Irvine Jaegar would be prepared to meet them head-on in battle.
To the villagers, it would look as though the perpetual fog that permeated the streets of their town for centuries had suddenly opened up like a great mouth and the underside of the monstrous ship, larger than any structure in the entire town, would descend towards them at a sickening rate. They would be crushed lest they make way for it, yet there wasn’t even proper time for most of them to react to it. As luck would have it, the ship crash landed roughly in an area that was mostly open land, but that was not to say that some of the houses and buildings surrounded it weren’t damaged in the fall.
The crew converged like ants upon the people, scattering about with blades and guns drawn at the ready, scouring the nearest buildings for food, drink, and rest. Irvine took it upon himself to seek a capable mechanic.
"Get yer happy asses back on the ship by nightfall!" he bellowed, his rough voice carrying easily over the din of mayhem that claimed the usually sleepy town. He eyed the ship for a long moment, then rolled his pupil towards the sky and skimmed for the telltale inkblot of a shadow, only to find that the fog was even more oppressive below than above, and he could make out nothing. He wasn't sure whether or not this should please him.
He made his way to the nearest pile of scraps that looked nothing like a pub save for the crude hand painted sign hanging above it, prepared to order himself a well deserved drink before beginning his search.
