Hi folks. This is just a rough copy and first draft of the first chapter of a little story i'm working on. Since it's inspired by GoI and unofficialy set
somewhere in it's universe I thought it would be appropriate to post it here for your viewing pleasure and/or scrutiny.
Pretty much everything in here is subject to change. As a little foreword though there may well be spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. I will also be spelling everything the correct (British) way, just so you know.
"The Junker" is also purely a placeholder until I decide on a proper name for the ship. Also looking for suggestions on a title for the story. All feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged. Thanks!
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Chapter 1It was a fine, sunny day as it so often is out in the sandy wastes of the desert. Captain Tungsten stood attentively at the helm of his vessel. A marvellous beast it was, a Junker. The hull was suspended just off the ground by a large, ragged balloon that had seen it's fair share of holes. Held together by plentiful, complex rigging and adorned with all manner of blue flags, waving elegantly in the warm breeze of the desert. A ship of sorts, certainly. An air ship.
"Nice view," Spoke the captain. "Could be nicer. Up we go, I think!"
The sound of a chugging engine and the hissing of gas being pumped into the balloon signalled the slow rise of the vessel. As the Junker gently climbed higher in to the sky the churning of cogs and whistling of gas died down, the captain took a step back.
He was an averagely sized man sporting a thick, well groomed goatee around his mouth but no other hair to speak of. He was adorned in what probably used to be a smart naval captain's uniform but was now somewhat tattered and notably dusty. The shabby ensemble was completed with a poorly fitted flight officer's cap perched precariously from his bald scalp.
"Graegor!" He called. "We're finally off the ground!"
The loud clattering of a toolbox being dropped echoed out from below deck and shortly after an oily man wearing blackened overalls and a gas mask emerged.
"What?" He replied as he lifted the mask from his face.
He wasn't an extroadinary specimen of strength but was certainly more rugged than the captain. Most notably several deep, semi-healed cuts ran across his face and engine oil stains of varying sizes covered his entire figure.
"Are the engines ready to go?"
"Yes, yes they are. I told you that already." Replied Graegor.
"Good," The captain folded his arms. "It's only, the last time I asked and you said yes, one of them started churning out horrible black smoke."
"I know."
"And do you remember what happened after that?" Asked Tungsten, leaning towards his colleague.
"I do." Said Graegor, becoming increasingly impatient.
"You rushed over and it exploded in your face." He motioned towards Graegor's face. "Giving you that lovely complexion."
The engineer forced a smile. "Anything else, Captain?" He said through his teeth.
Tungsten didn't respond but returned to the helm, grasping the ornate wooden wheel in both hands. Graegor took the opportunity to return to the bowels of the ship and vanished below deck.
The captain tentatively placed a hand on the throttle lever and took a deep breath.
"Don't explode."
He slid the lever up to the first mark and the ship sparked to life behind him. Several rear-facing engines began to sputter and whir as the attached propellers started to spin. The ship began to gently glide forward above the sandy wastes.
"Good enough!" Proclaimed the captain, shifting the throttle up to full speed.
The engines coughed and spluttered for a moment before the revs began to rapidly increase and the Junker began picking up a decent pace.
"Finally out of this bloody desert?" Said someone. Tungsten peered over his shoulder. The ship's gunner, Samuel, was standing behind him. Dressed in a plethora of materials that could only come together to be some form of armour. A goat skull on his left shoulder and a gilded steel pauldron on his right were both held on by thick leather straps overlapping a dusty brown trench coat.
"Will be soon." Replied Tungsten. "Getting a bit sick of sand."
Samuel ran a hand through his brown, swept hair. A handful of grains dropped down on to the deck.
"Me too."
"How's the drifter?" Asked the captain, turning away from the steering wheel. "Still alive?"
"Oh, yeah he's alright. Still down in the hold. I think Graegor's keeping an eye on him." Samuel paused, rubbing his chin. "Bit dehydrated."
"Well what do you expect? Wandering out in the desert isn't a particularly smart thing to do. Especially without any supplies."
"Yeah well he's alright for now."
"He's lucky." Said Tungsten. "We're the only thing out here for miles. Not a bloody clue what he was thinking."
Samuel shrugged, swiveled on a heel and marched off. Tungsten watched him for a bit before turning back to the helm.
The vessel was on course and making good speed, the shadow it cast being the only visible feature in the seemingly endless and featureless sea of sand.
Tungsten stood at the helm, clasping the wheel lightly and drowsily watching the compass.
It was dusk now. The harsh blue skies turned a calm purple with streaks of yellow where sun rays pierced the few clouds that were beginning to appear over the horizon.
Flying at night was dangerous, even in the vast emptiness of a desert and so the ship began to gradually come to a halt.
"Hello." Said an unfamiliar voice.
It was the drifter the crew had picked up in the desert. Tungsten warily twisted around to face him. It was the first time he'd seen their guest properly since Samuel dragged him on board. He was a relatively skinny man with an odd look about him. A look that suggested he had been wandering a desert for a few days. He wore a plain, wool shirt with the sleeves torn off and a pair of filthy linen trousers held up by a frayed rope tied around his waist.
His face was tanned and his eyes gave away the fact he was foreign, most likely from the league.
"Hello," Tungsten replied softly, unsure if the man was here to show appreciation or to eat his face. "Can I help you?"
The drifter didn't reply but idly stared out in to the increasingly dark evening sky.
"Are you alright?"
No reply bar from a little sigh and a ponderous walk around the deck.
"Can you tell me your name at least?" The captain folded his arms.
The drifter inhaled sharply and began to make his way back down below.
"Could you tell the other two that we're mooring for the night?" He was gone, Tungsten sighed. "We're mooring for the night!" He bellowed.
With the engines off and the anchor buried in the sand beneath Tungsten made his way below deck aswell, leaving the inky blackness of outside for the cramped, dimly lit interior of the ship. To his suprise the drifter hadn't murdered his colleagues and both were in their cots. One fast asleep and the other delicately poking at the reddish scabs along his face.
Tungsten clambered into his own hammock, positioned on the opposite side of the claustrophobic box. Their silent guest had tucked himself in the corner near the door and was already falling asleep. The captain sighed, hung his cap from a crooked nail in the wall beside him and settled down.
A new morning and still in the desert. The ship was on course once more and the ragged hum of the engines at cruise speed was the only sound to hear. The sun was already well above the horizon but still managed to pierce the thick grey clouds that washed the sky.
The crew were up and awake, enjoying breakfast on the upper deck. Graegor and Samuel sat perched from the starboard side together, peering down at the dunes and flicking unappetising bits of their meal overboard.
Tungsten leant against the railing with a frown, idly prodding at his food that had apparently been mislabeled as beans.
"What did he say his name was?" Asked Graegor, tossing an empty tin can over the edge.
"Solomon," Replied Samuel, doing the same with his meal. The pair stood up. "He's from out in the desert somewhere. Not welcome there anymore, apparently."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, that's all he told me. Exiled perhaps."
"At least he spoke to you," The captain piped up. "Wouldn't say a word to me. Where is he anyway?"
Samuel shrugged. Tungsten turned to face the entrance to the lower deck thoughtfully. Without a word he swiftly made his way from his crewmates, who were still chatting idly, and dissapeared below deck. The cramped underbelly of the Junker was lit only by a few lanterns and sunrays that pierced the gaps in the deck above. In the hold sat more than a dozen or so crates, each no bigger than a coffee table. Crouched down and examining one of these crates was their silent guest.
"What are you doing in here, exile?" The captain demanded. "Get away from those."
The captain seemed concerned but eyed the man carefully. Solomon stood up and turned to face Tungsten, a look of anguish on his face. He folded his arms and peered disapprovingly down at one of the crates.
"I know the markings on this box. You're smuggling Yeshan weapons." Solomon said flatly.
"Be quiet!" Said the captain quickly, glancing back out toward the deck.
"Those two don't know, do they? Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?"
"You're getting off at the next port. This doesn't concern you." The captain said, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging him out of the room.
"Ship!" Shouted someone from above deck. "Ship, captain!"
Tungsten paused briefly. He quickly shoved Solomon aside and ran back outside just as a firey ball roared past the port side of the Junker, exploding violently in the sand below.
"She's opened fire!" Bellowed Graegor at the top of his lungs as he sprinted across the deck.
Tungsten clambered up to the helm and peered out over the Junker's stern. There was another ship not far away and closing the gap rapidly.
"Guns up! Guns up!" Tungsten cried authoritatively, slamming the throttle in to full.
The engines began to whirl at top speed and the Junker lurched forward suddenly, rapidly picking up speed. Samuel scambled over to the captain's side.
"Captain, that was a warning shot. She wants us to stop."
"We're not stopping for raiders!"
"Captain, raiders don't fire warning shots!"
"We're not stopping, Samuel!" Barked Tungsten. "Now get yourself on a gun!"
The pursuing vessel was still quickly closing in, despite the Junker being at top speed. On closer inspection it was a more steamlined vessel than Tungsten's and quite obviously in much better condition. Smaller but that usually meant faster and that was certainly proving to be the case.
Their balloon seemed brand new, not a patched hole in sight. The hull was clean and reflected the high morning sun. A stark contrast compared to the Junker.
Their most noteworthy feature, however, was a large foreward facing weapon fixed to the bow of the ship. A monstrous construction. A rotating platform suspended two large pods full of rockets, both decorated with ornate, brass dragon heads as if the ship itself was breathing fire. Behind these sat the gunner, perched on an attached chair, controlling the weapon and peering through a crude, wire crosshair.
It wasn't long before another firey shot sailed past, narrowly missing the hull. The other ship was dangerously close now, it's crew scurrying about the deck.
Samuel had finished preparing the guns but the Junker was still helpess, none of it's armaments were rear facing. On the port and starboard sides were old, rusty gatling guns in various conditions of decay.
Samuel rushed to the best quality gun, span it round as far is it would go and began firing. A succession of rapid thumps followed as the gun spat bullets back towards the chasing vessel. Most soared right past it's port side, the few that did make contact pinged off the hull without so much as a scratch.
In response a barrage of rockets was released from the enemy's fore gun. A horrific roar followed as numerous burning rockets engulfed the Junker like an angry swarm of giant, firey bees.
Numerous loud slams and metallic crunches followed as various components and integral pieces of the hull were blown to bits. The whole ship shook violently, stumbling the crew. The Junker began to veer sharply to the left after one of the navigating engines had self destructed into a thick, black plume that trailed behind.
"We're limping!" Shouted Graegor as he desperately tried to douse a fire. Several areas of the deck were ablaze now but with navigation gone the broadside of the Junker was facing the other vessel. The exile had appeared during the commotion and both he and Samuel were opening fire. The pursuing ship shrugged off the majority of the poor quality bullets without being phased.
"She's coming in fast!" Bellowed the captain, turning the wheel full circle. "Brace yourselves!"
Before anyone could react the ships collided with a mighty thud and the sharp screech of metal on metal followed. The Junker crew were thrown violently to the floor and the entire ship began to careen swiftly downwards.
"Not again!" Cried Graegor, trying to regain his balance.
A silence followed and the crew managed to compose themselves to inspect the damage. The ship was steady for now but the balloon was slowly deflating and they were gently losing altitude. Graegor was running about dousing the small fires that remained. Solomon was sat on the deck, nursing at a cut on his arm and Samuel had swiftly made his way below deck.
The entire ship seemed oddly bent. The wooden boards that comprised the deck were broken and split in places. The metal framework around the ship was severely warped, especially on the port side that had taken the brunt of the damage.
Just as Graegor had put out the last fire the ship stopped suddenly, stumbling the men on deck again. It had touched down in the sand at a slight incline and the already battered hull was put under further stress. The only sound now was the quiet hissing of the balloon losing gas and the gentle hum of engines a short distance above.
Samuel reappeared on deck, a sword in hand and a scabbard at his hip. It was a long, curved weapon, the blade made of steel. Not much to behold but it had been with Samuel since he joined the crew.
The enemy ship came in to view, descending slowly onto the ground several metres away with considerably more grace than the Junker. Just as the bottom of the hull brushed the ground it came to a stop and a gangplank was thrown over the side. A few men armed with rifles swiftly marched down it and across the dusty ground to the Junker.
Samuel, to Tungsten's suprise, leapt off the boat. He kicked up sand as he charged the encroaching men, his sword raised into the air. As he reached them a loud clang rang out as Samuel's strike was blocked with the barrel of a rifle. A quick kick was delivered to the marine's stomach and he stumbled backwards. A second fast strike slit the man's thigh and he toppled over backwards, clutching his rapidly bleeding leg.
Just as Samuel recovered from this impressive attack a swift rifle butt to the face knocked him out cold. Tungsten sighed and raised his hands in surrender. Graegor and Solomon followed suit as a few armed men boarded their ship.
"Y'know," Said a new voice from behind the pointed rifles. "That's two of my men you've wounded today."
It was a relatively tall, well dressed man who stepped out onto the Junker's deck. Adorned in a mildy dusty blue naval coat over a fading cerulean uniform. Neatly cropped ginger hair sat atop his head, barely hidden by a mismatching brown tricorn and pair of flight goggles on his forehead.
"Jonathan." Tungsten said disdainfully.
"That's Captain Savidge to you, Mr. Tungsten."
"Captain Tungsten."
Savidge scoffed and proceeded to examine each of his captives. Tungsten seemed unphased but relunctantly kept his hands above his head. Graegor, after considering the state of the ship, offered nothing but a hostile glare. Solomon eyed Savidge with a frown.
"Your new boy looks a bit ropey, Mr. Tungsten." Sneered Savidge.
"Captain Tungsten." Added Tungsten.
"What gutter did you pull him out of?"
Tungsten just shrugged. Savidge continued to inspect Solomon briefly before taking a step back behind his firing squad. He crossed his arms and grinned.
"Do it." He ordered.
Tungsten shut his eyes tight, bracing for the shot. Something solid struck him in the face and he dropped limply to the ground with a thump.
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