Previous: The Healer, Post 3
(Content Warning: Violence, Language)
Zephys plummeted through the air between the two ships like a falling stone. For most of the assault crew, this was the terrifying part. Boarding grapnels could give way, especially if the pilot on deck couldn't keep the ship in proximity to the target. This was a notorious problem with airships, the controls of which were highly responsive even among poorly built vessels and which did not suffer the same slowing resistance of water based vessels. Too often, some poor sod's line would snap like frail thread under the colossal forces of ships that altered course by even just a few feet and that fellow would find himself at gravity's never tender mercy.
Most boarders preferred wingsuits to make the journey from rail to rail. It would never be as good as teleportation but, in the absence of magic, it served about as well as anything could. It provided a controlled freefall that would allow boarders to guide their descent onto the enemy deck. The problem with that was mainly twofold. First, the attacking ship needed to have elevation on the target vessel and second, drop attacks usually always held the disadvantage of the loss of surprise. Which, of course, meant that the defenders could get off a ranged volley or two on the incoming. And that, of course, if not a falling corpse, meant a ripped wingsuit at the very least and either a hard landing on deck or a much longer, spiraling dance among the clouds before a much harder landing on the earth often miles below.
The point is that boarding tactics between airships was almost always a risky proposition. And Zephys...well, Zephys was insane. The fall was his favorite part. He loved those all too brief moments when the he was held suspended in the air between his home and his enemy, the wind whipping fiercely by, his long blue hair ripped backward and his every muscle straining to control his uncontrolled descent. He loved the shock and abject fear his fall caused in the rapidly approaching faces of the enemy sailors. How terrifying he must look, having leapt headlong into the fray without any kind of safety measure, his talons gleaming in the sun, a death head's grin plastered across his heavily scarred face. His brazen recklessness spooked even his own crew, who hesitated only a beat before following more safely and slowly.
Zephys hit the deck hard, one hand thrown back for balance and the other buried knuckles deep into the wooden planks of the waist deck. The enemy sailors around him were in the midst of gathering their wits about them, their commander already screaming at them to fire their Storm Rifles, as he tossed his hair back and glanced around. They had him surrounded, three hundred and sixty degrees, ten men and women in the forefight. They levered the big copper guns into position and flicked over the actuators. Each rifle spat and sparked bright blue arcs of electricity around the crown of coiled spikes just forward of the stock and an audible hum filled the air. The hum grew in intensity as the arcs connected each of the coils and began to coalesce into a spiraling energy pattern that spun down the length of the firing rod.
Zephys let out a short bark of a laugh and thought very briefly to himself that no, maybe this was his favorite part. The Dragon Shaman planted his other clawed hand into the deck and visibly flexed as if he were trying to rip the very ship apart. A globe of radiant violet energy emanated from him and rapidly spread outward toward the surrounding combatants just as the spiraling electricity arcing down the length of their guns completed their circuit and lanced outward toward the hunched over Shaman. The bolts of lightning slammed into the outer shell of the energy globe, throwing sparks everywhere in a violent display. Great arcs of electricity ran rampant all over the surface of the globe and began to dance back outward toward the sailors who had fired them. Gouts of lightning tore into the deck and punched holes in the chests of several of the defenders.
The energy globe dissipated as the Shaman stood, smoking ruin all around him, not a hair on his head even remotely singed. A harpoon the size of his leg slammed through the deck just to the left of him, followed a moment later by an absurdly large man zipping down the rope attached. His impact was cacophonous and knocked the recovering commander directly over the railing and into the great blue yonder.
"Leave some for the rest of us, eh, Zeph, you sonuvabitch," the big man grumbled as he yanked his massive harpoon free and used it to bat another defender over the edge of the ship. He grinned and rubbed his massive bald dome with his other hand as the man's scream fell from earshot.
"Just you try to keep up, Balbar, you old bastard." Zephys grinned back as several of the other crew finally made their arrival.
The defending officers were rallying atop the bridge. Zephys' grin slipped just a touch when he heard their captain yell out, "Switch to Thunder, lads!" and there was no more time for idle banter. The fighting began in earnest.
Next: Greyson Investigations, Post 5
(Content Warning: Violence, Language)
Zephys plummeted through the air between the two ships like a falling stone. For most of the assault crew, this was the terrifying part. Boarding grapnels could give way, especially if the pilot on deck couldn't keep the ship in proximity to the target. This was a notorious problem with airships, the controls of which were highly responsive even among poorly built vessels and which did not suffer the same slowing resistance of water based vessels. Too often, some poor sod's line would snap like frail thread under the colossal forces of ships that altered course by even just a few feet and that fellow would find himself at gravity's never tender mercy.
Most boarders preferred wingsuits to make the journey from rail to rail. It would never be as good as teleportation but, in the absence of magic, it served about as well as anything could. It provided a controlled freefall that would allow boarders to guide their descent onto the enemy deck. The problem with that was mainly twofold. First, the attacking ship needed to have elevation on the target vessel and second, drop attacks usually always held the disadvantage of the loss of surprise. Which, of course, meant that the defenders could get off a ranged volley or two on the incoming. And that, of course, if not a falling corpse, meant a ripped wingsuit at the very least and either a hard landing on deck or a much longer, spiraling dance among the clouds before a much harder landing on the earth often miles below.
The point is that boarding tactics between airships was almost always a risky proposition. And Zephys...well, Zephys was insane. The fall was his favorite part. He loved those all too brief moments when the he was held suspended in the air between his home and his enemy, the wind whipping fiercely by, his long blue hair ripped backward and his every muscle straining to control his uncontrolled descent. He loved the shock and abject fear his fall caused in the rapidly approaching faces of the enemy sailors. How terrifying he must look, having leapt headlong into the fray without any kind of safety measure, his talons gleaming in the sun, a death head's grin plastered across his heavily scarred face. His brazen recklessness spooked even his own crew, who hesitated only a beat before following more safely and slowly.
Zephys hit the deck hard, one hand thrown back for balance and the other buried knuckles deep into the wooden planks of the waist deck. The enemy sailors around him were in the midst of gathering their wits about them, their commander already screaming at them to fire their Storm Rifles, as he tossed his hair back and glanced around. They had him surrounded, three hundred and sixty degrees, ten men and women in the forefight. They levered the big copper guns into position and flicked over the actuators. Each rifle spat and sparked bright blue arcs of electricity around the crown of coiled spikes just forward of the stock and an audible hum filled the air. The hum grew in intensity as the arcs connected each of the coils and began to coalesce into a spiraling energy pattern that spun down the length of the firing rod.
Zephys let out a short bark of a laugh and thought very briefly to himself that no, maybe this was his favorite part. The Dragon Shaman planted his other clawed hand into the deck and visibly flexed as if he were trying to rip the very ship apart. A globe of radiant violet energy emanated from him and rapidly spread outward toward the surrounding combatants just as the spiraling electricity arcing down the length of their guns completed their circuit and lanced outward toward the hunched over Shaman. The bolts of lightning slammed into the outer shell of the energy globe, throwing sparks everywhere in a violent display. Great arcs of electricity ran rampant all over the surface of the globe and began to dance back outward toward the sailors who had fired them. Gouts of lightning tore into the deck and punched holes in the chests of several of the defenders.
The energy globe dissipated as the Shaman stood, smoking ruin all around him, not a hair on his head even remotely singed. A harpoon the size of his leg slammed through the deck just to the left of him, followed a moment later by an absurdly large man zipping down the rope attached. His impact was cacophonous and knocked the recovering commander directly over the railing and into the great blue yonder.
"Leave some for the rest of us, eh, Zeph, you sonuvabitch," the big man grumbled as he yanked his massive harpoon free and used it to bat another defender over the edge of the ship. He grinned and rubbed his massive bald dome with his other hand as the man's scream fell from earshot.
"Just you try to keep up, Balbar, you old bastard." Zephys grinned back as several of the other crew finally made their arrival.
The defending officers were rallying atop the bridge. Zephys' grin slipped just a touch when he heard their captain yell out, "Switch to Thunder, lads!" and there was no more time for idle banter. The fighting began in earnest.
Next: Greyson Investigations, Post 5