Chamer, James Carter, Hamelin le Marinier, Aden Robertson, Yuri Kasrikos, Volodar Naesandoral, Zoe Spyrou & Christina Ferrari
Co-written by Tesserach, InfamousGuy101, PrinceAlexus, Terrans, Yuri Kasrikos, Bingelly, Dyelli Beybi & Expendible
The zeppelin was beginning to move and rise, but not in a uniform manner, the aft - already cut free was rising steadily. Despite the increasing offset to the deck, in the bridge gondola of the zeppelin James Carter felt a flicker of relief as the woman introduced herself. "Itzi," she said confidently. Her calm demeanor and mention of being a certified helmsman were a rare comfort in the chaos.
"James... James Carter.. Good to have someone who knows their way around an airship," he said, his grip easing slightly on the wheel. "This thing’s not exactly a trade vessel, so—"
The sharp crack of gunfire interrupted him. He froze for a split second before snapping his head toward the sound, his instincts kicking in. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the side window. The ground below was teeming with movement. Dozens of figures had entered the base, barely visible through the smoke, but the flashes of muzzle fire were unmistakable. Bullets ricocheted off the gondola’s metal plating, and the sound of chaos outside was growing louder.
"Take the controls, Itzi!" James barked, his tone urgent as he stepped back from the wheel. "Keep her steady—we’ve still got people trying to get aboard."
Without waiting for a response, James moved quickly to the side entrance of the gondola. The long ladder below was swaying, the last few rungs threatening to lift off the ground as the ship continued its uneven ascent. Shouts and cries came from the people still scrambling to climb aboard, some reaching desperately for the ladder as it rose higher.
James grabbed the side of the doorway, unholstering his Harlan pistol. "Get them up now!" he yelled to everyone nearby. "This is their last chance!"
He leaned out slightly, firing off a few rounds toward the advancing figures below.
"Frak" exclaimed the Favian officer, just outside the gondola, as the first real combat he had seen in over decade kicked off, his hands shook and he had to remember what he was taught in the officers academy all those years ago in the halls under the harsh drill masters. An icey calm began to fill the post captains mind, checking his knife and revolver without thought, his old training kicking in now battle was joined.
"Frak this, get on, I'll cover you. Give em hell," He shouted making a dash for what he hoped was a working machine gun in the aft gondola, the effort was tough for a man not in combat shape after the past hours, but he pushed on, the old officer he was dropping into place after years of desk work. "Damn fraking technology." He shouted to self as he tried to load the heavy belt into breach so he could pull back what he hoped was a charging handle, it was a heavy water cooled machine gun, it was like the tech fair at the palace of industry, just now he had lives on the line. least his heavy Favian pistols hammer like overbuilt constriction let him smash the lock off the ammo lock box below the gun.
He was a gunner, not a machine gunner, long as he could get it working he could least walk the fire if nothing else worked, crude but it would have to do.
Not far off, Aden Robertson found himself on the gondola as the more air oriented members of the ad-hoc crew made ready to leave.
The wind was already noticeable and Aden felt its bite even under the layers of his uniform. The height was at least familiar due to his times in the mountains.
So the figures shooting up at him was also a familiar sight.
Beside him an older looking man fumbled with a machine gun while the previous pilot had joined them to blaze away, ineffectively, with their pistol.
The marksman didn’t bother trying to correct either of them; instead he sunk into his heels and nestled his rifle into his shoulder.
The range was greater than he would have preferred; especially given the slight shifting of the gondola and the wind that he could see was moving the smokey residue of the burning cities.
The crosshairs settled over the center of a figure below.
Bang The round was low left. Aden grumbled as he threw the bolt up and racked the next round. Sighting back in.
BangThe figure below fell back. Condition unknown even through his telescopic optic; Aden however was already moving over. Sight settling over another man resting their rifle against an abandoned truck.
Just a little further along the track-way, Lieutenant Kasrikos was manning the ladder, pulling people aboard. He squinted out towards the distant figures entering the Aerodrome, thinking for a moment that they may be more desperate civilians. The first cracks of gunfire dismissed this notion, and return fire from the bridge caused his hand to twitch.
First combat was not something he expected this day, and the first hesitancy broke. He gripped at the handle of his revolver, then shook his head at his own stupidity. He would turn to the Favian, his eyes conveying his suspicion at the unexpected uniform, but now was not the time for questions.
He would reach down into the box, drawing up the cloth and brass with surprising ease for his unimpressive frame. feeding it in to the gun with the older man "Rack it a couple more times." says quickly, nodding over and holding the belt slack.
The Favian officer saw a smaller man rush over to help, thank the god, gods or whatever fates where helping him this day. He nodded and racked the guns heavy handle with a loud clunk, the second clunk was more confident and the 3rd came with an sound that was better. a 4th rack and the belt seemed to lock into place. "Thanks, guns hot, this things got no saf.." He asked, before the burst from the machine gun toward the enemy. "No safety." He said as he adjusted the gun round on the basic sites to send an experimental burst towards the enemy closest in cover behind a wrecked tool cart.
"Got it." He said with a cool tone.
Volodar carefully released his own line as the first shots cracked over the areodrone. He hurriedly remounted his horse. With a quick jab from his spurs, he hoped to reach a full-gallop as quickly as he could as the horse started to run. Meter by meter, he hurriedly covered ground between him and the rope ladder to climb aboard. At about 200 meters from the ladder, he felt his horse give out from under him, and heard the crack of a rifle. He felt himself falling half a second later and did what he could to brace for the impact and managed to roll just in enough to avoid being pinned by the animal.
Groaning in pain, the elf picked himself up off the ground, and turned his attention to the agonized cries of his mount. With an almost practiced routine, he somberly drew one of the pistols off the brace of his coat and cocked the hammer back as he stepped towards. While quickly uttering a prayer in Elgan, he neatly shot the poor animal twice in the head. Breaking all decorum, he immediately broke into a full sprint for the ladder and grabbed for it as soon as he could.
The second last line now released the aft of the zeppelin began to rise freely now as a group of communalists, armed with rifles crossed the broken fenceline onto the grounds, taking positions on one of the earthen berms just inside the perimeter of the aerodrome, where they had fields of fire across the centerline of the zeppelin as it began it's forward motion.
Not far from Volodar, Chumer struggled towards the rope ladder as the fire from the communalists increased both in volume and accuracy. He called out to both Volodar and Miquiztli from where he was, the remaining ladder rungs ascending even more, the last rungs quickly approaching. Volodar was now sprinting away from the horse he'd just put down.
Miquiztli on the other hand was near the far bow of the airship, climbing back into the roadster having cut the starboard bow line. The port line, however, still remained attached as the roadster kicked into motion, spewing black smoke behind it.
Up above them, the port bowline, the sole remaining tether line groaned against the forward motion and rising of the airship, the tether causing the nose of the zeppelin to pitch forward sharply, its bow dipping low and to port while the stern continued to rise and the zeppelin's enormous rear-end began swinging in a wide arc about the tether like a giant tether-ball playing out in slow motion. The rope ladder began to get dragged along the ground as it moved, towards Volodar, away from Miquiztili.
And towards the communalist position.
The sharp motion sent a burst of rounds flying into a sign that read the name of the airship unit casting it down to the ground with a slam, it's damaged form from bring exposed to the winds, and rains gave up under a line of bullet holes smashing the aged cast iron that kept it aloft.
Dragging the heavy gun back, the Officer looked out and with alarm saw they where getting closer and not gaining ground on the attacking red marked soldiers, infiltrators and 5th column allies.
Checking he still had a fair amount still on the canvas belt, enough to not need to swap it yet he braced the gun as the world tipped about keeping his hands off the triggers this time having yet to work out the safety if it even had one. "I'll use this one before i swap, i got at least half left. Damn Reds, i wanted a quiet desk job. Drink wine, charm a widow and maybe get some good rum. But Reds." He cut off by sending a burst into the one with largest red sash, largest hat or aiming at anyone who wore more back, red who might be important. Finally seeing a particular man in a black long coat with a red sash, a hat and a sword belt, he aimed and tried to stitch a line of shots at whoever the commulalist was less equal.
He was pretty sure if they where closer... not a thing he wanted that he would of had a large busy moustache, beedy dark untrustworthy eyes and a stolen watch, likely far more.
Zoe gave a yelp, stumbling and falling against the gondola window before twisting around until she was facing into the cabin, "Someone with a pistol... you! Mainer!" presumably that was Carter, "Get up the ladder into the nose where we are connected and shoot at mooring stuff until we can break away! I am not getting killed here! That would be annoyingly droll ."
Meanwhile another gun from further back in the ship opened up, presumably that was Arkadios. The gunner was firing in short, sharp, controlled burst. Not that he was hitting much with the motion of the craft.
James slammed a fresh magazine into his Harlan, he reached out to help another desperate figure scramble aboard, pulling them up and away from the firestorm below. The cacophony of gunfire echoed around the gondola, with more people firing back at the advancing rebels.
The zeppelin lurched violently again, nearly knocking James off balance. Through the chaos, he could see the problem—the ship was still tethered by a single line, its massive bulk spiraling in a deadly arc, dragging the rope ladder dangerously close to the rebels’ firing positions.
When Zoe called out to him to handle the line, James didn’t hesitate. "Keep her steady, Itzi!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. She seemed to visibly be struggling in keeping the helm straight as she tried to guide the ship away from the rebels sights. The Mainer sprinted toward the nose of the ship, his boots clanging against the metal floor as he climbed toward the tether point.
Reaching the forward hatch, James braced himself against the wall before carefully pushing it open. The roar of the wind hit him like a slap, whipping at his hair and stinging his face. The tether was taut, straining against the massive airship, the only thing preventing them from breaking free. He leaned out, his pistol in hand, squinting against the wind and the distant flashes of gunfire below.
He steadied his aim as best he could and fired.
The shot went wide, the wind catching his arm and throwing it off course, "Damn it," he muttered, gripping the frame tighter. He fired again, another miss. Each shot felt like a waste of precious seconds as the rebels below closed in, their bullets pinging against the ship’s hull.
James gritted his teeth, narrowing his focus. The third shot clipped the tether, but not enough to sever it. The line wavered but held firm, mocking his efforts. The sporadic gunfire from below and the chaotic winds made it impossible to get a clean hit.
"Come on, come on!" he growled, adjusting his aim once more. But even as he lined up another shot, a nagging thought crept into his mind: this wasn’t going to work. It would take a miracle—or a helping hand from someone down below—to break them free.
"Porco Dio, che disastro!" Christina yelled in frustration, somewhere amidships, then headed to the nearest speaking tube. "Somebody cast off the lines and drop the weights! We need altitude!"
Nikos ran down the port side of the inner deck, axe in hand. Spying the mooring point, he stops to catch his breath, then raises his axe to cut the line.
The ship's aft drifted directly over the the communalists positioned along the berms, the shadow of the looming zeppelin falling over the soldiers and rebels - and much of the street behind them - as the massive airship eclipsed the sun. It was a portent that was accompanied by fire raking from the zeppelin's gondola machineguns. Fire the team of communalists returned in earnest with their rifles.
The young iktani, Chamer was clinging to the rope ladder again as its final rung started being dragged along the ground. Volodar was near enough to grab the line.
In the distance, Miquiztli squealed the roadster to a halt next to the bow line, leaning his pistol over the side panel and firing three shots into the line before it finally snapped free and the zeppelin began to rise.
Chamer remained motionless on the ladder as the last rung of the rope ladder began to skitter over the grass in preparation to take off. It was clear to all present that the driver of the roadster was never going to be able to make the ladder as it jerked off the ground.
Hearing the shots, Nikos railed backwards into the bulkhead, then realized the mooring line was now slack. Dropping the axe. he began hauling up the line to keep the communists from climbing up.
James felt the sudden jerk of the ship as the bowline snapped free, the zeppelin lurching upward. Relief briefly washed over him.
Without wasting time James began helping the uniformed man who had waltz in with an axe in bringing in the line, "You almost got your damn head blown off stormin’ in here like that!"
Straining himself, Volodar leaped for the rope as it started to raise off from the ground. "God, that was close," Volodar muttered before a communalist bullet whizzed beside him. Hurriedly, Volodar scrambled to climb as fast as he could while still returning fire at the communalists with one of his many pistol, more in an attempt to suppress the reds than to deliver effective fire. However, Volodar soon found himself blocked by the Iktani princeling further ahead of him on the ladder.
"Climb, you limp-wristed dandy!" Volodar bellowed at Chamer from below, "We are not going to die out here!"
The Iktani, Chamer, dangling from the rope ladder didn't respond or move. His eyes were focused on the white roadster that was motoring rapidly toward the rope ladder, even as they lifted well beyond reach from the ground.
It wouldn't have mattered either way because the car never reached beneath the swinging rope ladder. Struck by several communalist rifles, smoke and steam exploded from the front hood and the vehicle careened onto its side... the driver lost amidst the smoke.
With an angry growl, Volodar holstered the pistol he had been shooting and carefully unsheathed his sabre from its scabbard. Gently, the Elga poked at the Iktani with the tip of the sword, just enough to hurt but not pierce the skin. "Hell's fire! Mourn him when we have solid floor beneath us!"
The point of a saber tip threatening his backside did get Chamer's attention. The iktani looked down, his hat tumbling from his head and for a moment it seemed the Elga might take a boot for his efforts. Instead the young human gave the elf a frenzied glare. "Not even a dinner invite first!" He guffawed indignantly, before taking the hint and climbing up even as his hat tumbled down to the communalist position, where men were firing wildly upward.
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