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He made the decision as soon as he saw the poster on the information kiosk in the square.
"AIRSHIP CREW NEEDED - NOW HIRING"
He decided he would not be called "Skip". The Captain of the Red Star would refer to him by last name, "Slater", just "Slater".
But what was the first thing said to him onboard?
"Oh, you must be Skippy, our new Cabin boy!" Captain Albert Alexander cried, shaking Skip's hand boisterously, crushing the boy's fingers in his meaty fist.
The Captain was a large man, built along the strong, stocky lines of a dwarf, but tall, taller than anyone Skip could remember. His brown, curly hair was long, past his broad shoulders, which either spoke of the odd new fashion of a faraway city or the lack of barbers while in the sky and his brown eyes twinkled merrily as if laughing already. Honestly, Skip had no idea what to think of the man, other than wondering just what he had gotten himself into.
"Ah, yes, that's me, hello," Skip replied nervously.
"Pleasure ta' meet'cha! Is this your first time up in the air?"
Skip stammered, "Uhh, what? Oh, no, I've never been- no, not in an airship, no."
"Well, you'll find no finer ship, no worthier crew to work with other than the Star, I guarantee it!"
Even without the recommendation, Skip could already see that he would like this ship. It seemed to run like clockwork, the cargo being hauled down to the bay in quick, predestined routes, the riggers deftly running up and down the ropes, knotting and setting and tying as needed like a practiced dance and the watchmen and navigation examining their instruments, making calculations on hand-held abacuses and marking things on charts and maps. It was neat, organized, ordered. Exactly how Skip liked things.
Just as Skip was about to anxiously speak up and ask what he should be doing, the Captain stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled clear and loud.
All of a sudden, every crewmember dropped whatever they were doing, the chests and barrels that were previously being hauled across the deck being set down with a resounding thunk, the riggers and watchmen swinging and sliding down the ropes until the entire crew was lined up from one rail of the deck to the other. Fraught with uncertainty, Skip hesitated before joining the line, squashed at the very end between what looked like a part-orc.
From the quarters at the fore emerged a thin, lanky man with a mussed mop of dark hair, pointed Elven ears knifing through the tangle, who moved to stand beside the Captain before the lined crew. It was obvious by the confident way he carried himself and from the long, red jacket that matched the Captain's that this was the First Mate.
"Alright, ye lazy scalawags! We wanna be up in the air a'fore nightfall, d' you hear? So I want every last one of you workin' hard as can be to get her skyworthy. We got only a few hours to get us back together, and I don't want to see any time wasted. If you don't know what to do, either figure it out and quick or report to yer First Mate. For you greenhorns, this would be Mr. Taphenon Perseus here. I've found no finer officer to fly alongside to date, and I'm sure ye'll all soon agree," the Captain explained, his arm around the elf's thin shoulders.
"Aye aye, sir!" the crew chorused in unison.
"Well, you heard the man!" the First Mate cried, "Get to work!"
The crew returned to their rhythmic hustle and ordered bustle as Mr. Perseus grabbed Skip's arm and pulled him out of the way of the others' work.
"Greenhorn, come with me."
Skip was lead down belowdecks, past the cabins and dining area to the cargo hold.
"What did you say your name was again?" the First Mate asked as they walked.
"Slater, sir, Skip-"
"Skip, right, that's it. Alright, Skip, this is your job for now. I want you to make sure all of the goods that comes down here are secure. We don't want anything sliding or flying around once we're in the air. Tie it all up, knot it good and then secure it to the hooks on the walls here. Seems simple enough, no?"
"Yes, sir," Skip nodded.
It seemed like hours passed as he worked, doing his best to remember all of the tightest and most dependable knots from the days when he and his father scrapped by alone in the woods. It must have been quite some time, because before he knew it, the Captain himself was tramping down the narrow stairs to the hold.
"All secure, Skippy?"
Skip looked up as he fastened the final knot, "Aye, sir."
"Good! We're about t' push off, and this is something you ought'a see."
"ALL HANDS ON DECK!" Captain Albert Alexander bellowed as soon as the fresh night air greeted them. "Make way to north by northwest! ON-WARDS!"
"Aye aye, sir!" a voice crowed from the navigation decks.
"FULL SPEED AHEAD!"
Skip, like many other members of the crew with no duties at hand raced to the railings at the edge of the ship to watch the shove-off.
At first it began with the slightest of winds pulling up, until it began rushing and reaching into a whooshing of wind. He could do little but stop and stare as the old factory, the high street and everything he ever knew fell up and away until it was small enough to tuck in his pocket. As much as he hated to show it, tears stung at his eyes, watching something so profoundly magnificent. Soon, the lights of Moil were nothing but defiant pinpricks in the night.
The wind gushed, the sky rushed and freedom finally felt within his grasp.
That is, until Mr. Perseus tapped him on the shoulder.
"Greenhorn, go give Rorik, the cook a hand in the kitchen," he nodded back towards the belowdecks door. "Don't worry about getting lost, it's on the second level and hard to miss."
He was right, past the bunkrooms and the sparse storage alcoves was the common rooms, the dining hall and lounge, its cavernous size opening like a pair of welcoming arms.
But what Mr. Perseus didn't tell Skip was that Rorik was a dwarf who didn't speak a lick of Common. It was difficult to understand the short-statured and shorter-tempered cook as he tried to gesture and mime what needed doing, but Skip tried his best to follow these strange instructions. In fact, it suited him fine, chatty people tended to be irritating and in his experience, kitchen-working folks tended to be the worst of the talkative, whistling type. By the end of the night, he'd even picked up a handful of Dwarven words, most of which he suspected were swears.
Before he knew it, three days had passed as Skip ran off to do every errand and chore possible on that ship, but never had he felt more at home.
...
The ship listed starboard violently, sending Skip tumbling from his bunk.
As he scrambled to find his boots and shove his feet into them, the tension in the air was near-palatable, the other shipmates muttering in hushed, worried whispers. Even green as horns could be, he knew that this was not normal.
When the ship rocked again, everyone abruptly stopped their conversations and raced onto the deck, Skip nervously trailing behind.
What was going on?
Once he reached topside, however, the answer became obvious. The wind gushed like the flapping of great wings, tossing sheets of icy-cold rain in every direction, and there came a howling roar that sounded like the crashing of every key in Lady Strings' Harpsichord Factory.
Skip didn't need to hear Mr. Perseus' shouting to know exactly what this was.
"It's a dragon, white as the mountains!" the First Mate cried.
The Captain, braced against the railing towards the fore deck roared some order Skip couldn't hear above the cacophony, but the rest of the crew seemed to know what to do, the riggers racing to their posts, tending to the balloon's mooring.
Suddenly, a blast of frigid air erupted along the deck, sending the ship flying off-balance and the crew tumbling, those clinging onto the ropes narrowly escaping with their lives.
A thick rime of frost and icicles began to form on the surface of the balloon, which could only mean one thing, the dragon was trying to chill the hot air and sink the airship!
"ALL HANDS BELOW DECK!" the Captain bellowed, the crew racing out of harm's way in a panic.
Skip, however, was frozen in fear.
"That was an order, Slater! I said all hands-"
The ship listed port, sending everything above deck tumbling, including the Captain, who narrowly escaped falling overboard, clinging desperately to the railing with one hand.
As Mr. Perseus raced to help him back onboard, Skip rolled to his feet, thinking quickly and running to the navigation decks, grabbing hold of the massive wheel. Being heavier than he'd originally thought, he wrenched it clockwise, pulling the ship back to rights with a heave, the Captain sent flying back on deck.
"Greenhorn!" the First Mate shouted, "I'm getting the Captain below! You stay there until I can get navigation back out!"
"Aye, sir!" Skip called in reply.
What had to be mere minutes felt like ages, and his mind was reeling.
What could a dragon want with them? White dragons were from the icy north, not even close to this far south, there was no chance the Red Star had disturbed its lair. Maybe it was after whatever was in the hold? But that was nonsense, Skip secured the cargo himself, it was nothing but mining tools. Unless...
"Mr. Perseus!" Skip shouted, spying the First Mate on the deck, the large part-orc navigator following close behind, "I think I have an idea of what's going on! Permission to speak candidly, sir?"
"Now is not the time Greenhorn!"
"I was just thinking sir of why the dragon was attacking us."
"Dragons are ornery things, we may have flown over its hoard and it felt the driving need for entertainment, perhaps."
"But it's an ice dragon, right? Aren't we too far south for those?"
Mr. Perseus paused, the information only just hitting him. "You're right. Slater, follow me, you're to tell the Captain this!"
"Aye, sir!" Skip agreed as the navigator moved to take the wheel.
Skip always thought a trip to the Captain's Quarters would be a more elegant, dignified affair, but with the ship rocking constantly and both men soaked to the bone, there wasn't much room left for dignity. Marching down the hallway to Albert's office, Mr. Perseus even yanked off his thick red jacket that by this point trailed whole pools of water, unceremoniously tossing it aside where it puddled in the corner, something Skip didn't have the courage to copy.
"Wait here," he muttered, nodding to the small space beside the open doorway.
Skip silently nodded and dutifully stood in place, hoping to the gods above the ship would stop swaying, or else he just might be sky-sick.
After a few minutes of some involved arguing, the First Mate and Captain emerged from the office, Albert looking more furious than Skip could ever imagine on such a boisterously cheerful face.
Sensing the boy's panic at such fury, his expression softened, "Skippy, you've done some good work, and for that, the least I owe ye is some answers. We're carryin' onboard more than your run-of-the-mill tools and what-have-you, we're holdin' some fantastical new technologies, things our employers would like to keep under wraps. I have a feelin' our dragon problem was brought on by a mole in me crew, someone workin' for a rival company. And come t' figure, we've two new hires in our ranks, yerself and one other." He turned to Mr. Perseus, "Go fetch the other greenhorn, bring 'im to the deck. Me n' Skippy will be waitin'."
The First Mate tipped the brim of his water-logged tri-corner hat and rushed off to do so.
Skip followed close behind the Captain as they made their way down the hallway, but was stopped when the Captain turned to ask,
"How did y' come up with that, anyways?"
Skip shrugged, "I just thought about it, I suppose."
Albert nodded as if this was a satisfactory enough answer.
It must have taken no time at all to find the new hire, Mr. Perseus already had a frightened man, quivering hands bound, at the top of the stairs by the time Skip and the Captain reached the end of the hall.
"Bring 'im to the stern," Albert growled spitefully.
There, the new hire was shoved to his knees, pressed against the railing.
"Call it off," the Captain ordered.
The man smirked, "I don't know, Cap, 'calling off' a fully-fledged white dragon is a bit harder than you'd-"
Albert reached inside his jacket to draw his flintlock pistol, thumbing down the hammer and pressing the barrel to the back of the man's neck. "Call it off or I will end you."
"End me all you like, Alexander, then you'll have to deal with all this on your own!"
Completely out of patience, Mr. Perseus grasped him by the elbow and dragged him halfway over the railing, making him face the dark, pointed landscape below.
"Do we look in a gaming mood?" the First Mate demanded, "Call. It. Off!"
"Okay- OKAY! I'll do it! I'll do what you say!" the man cried, whimpering like a child until he was pulled all the way back on deck.
He took his own time, enough that the Captain turned the gun in his hand, threatening to beat him over the head with the butt of it, until finally he looked up to face the sky and screamed a phrase in what could only be Draconic.
Suddenly, all the rain stopped, what was left of it crashing to earth with a clatter.
In between the balloon and deck peeked a sharp, white beak lined with acute fangs, forcing everyone present to take a step back.
The dragon asked a question and got a stammering reply, which obviously wasn't what the dragon wanted to hear, guessing by the icy, irritated snort it gave.
Then it turned its pointed nose to the Captain and spoke, "You will want to move from here, mortals, as I will punish him as the traitor deserves."
Sensing the immediate danger, the three of them raced forewards, only barely missing being hit with a blast of freezing wind. Although the Captain did his best to shield the boy, Skip could still feel the biting cold, it was almost unbearable.
Upon hearing the beating of leaving wings, they looked up to see the body of the dishonest man, frozen solid in a scream.
...
Even though they were within a few hours' journey of Hammerhold, Captain Albert Alexander ordered the Star to land on the flattest-looking patch of ground.
He didn't want to risk a puncture in the already damaged balloon and the crew with it. Besides, he needed to speak with the cabin boy, who leaned against the deck's railing, looking like he was about to be sick to his stomach.
"So, how you like flying, Skippy?"
"Aside from people dying right in front of me? Fine, I guess," he replied, not looking up.
The Captain shrugged, "It happens, sometimes, and that was far out of our control. But was it worth it?"
Skip took a moment to ponder this, his mind immediately jumping to that first time he saw Moil above, the lights of the city falling away like it was the one doing the flying.
"I think so," he finally answered.
"You've got the makin's of a great Captain in you, Slater," Albert said, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder.
Skip looked up, "...I do?"
The Captain nodded, "Aye. That kind of quick thinkin' is somethin' that don't come natural to most. And you managed to keep 'er from keelin' when you'd never taken the wheel in yer life."
Skip shrugged, "It was nothing, really."
"'Twas more than nothin' m'boy, but don't let it go to your head, y've still a ways to go. So I got a proposition for ya. Y' stay on the Star, stick with it, and I'll show ye what's to know."
Skip was shocked. Learn how to be a captain? Personal lessons on how to run a ship?
"You really mean it?"
"Aye. Slater, m'boy, with my help, you will be a captain someday, so long as you remember one thing, the one thing that'll keep a ship afloat."
"What's that?"
"It's love, boy. Love is what keeps her up in the air when she oughta fall down. Keeps 'er riding high. Makes her home. Sometimes love is all y' got, but that alone's enough. So love 'er Slater, love your ship. Love the job, love your crew and above all else, love the sky and where it'll take you."
Behind the mind of Nadia Cloud
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Hello! This is the first story (of hopefully a few) about my brandy-new character for the DnD campaign I'm joining next semester.
This story is set about 10 years prior to the events of the game (he's 16 here and 27 now), and sort of shows where he starts from. Later he becomes First Mate and then Captain of the Red Star, so I thought it would be nice to show the beginnings of that.
I'm actually very proud of this story, I took a lot of time to focus on the writing and the words, instead of say, the dialogue and the plot. It sort of helps that Skip is a man of few words and can be more observant than say my one of my first characters, a spazz named Majin ([link].
I'm also hoping to have a series of "Day One" stories for all my different characters, a bit of an origin story series, if you will.
A few notes:
- A lot of this was based on the Disney movie Treasure Planet (and in turn, Treasure Island). Originally, I was going to have it be about Skip's mentoring and how he was learning how to run a ship (sort of a la the "I'm Not Here" scene [link] but I decided he really didn't need to be that much of an angst-bucket and describing knot-tying would be the worst thing I'd ever done to myself.
- Yes, most of the "love is what keeps her up in the air" speech was lifted right from Firefly. And while it may seem a little... heavy-handed, keep in mind that the Captain is a generation that came out of an Undead Apocalypse, he probably lost everything, friends, relatives, parents... like Skip, sometimes the Sky is all he had.
- Captain Albert Alexander: [link]
Thanks for reading! Oh, and feel free to leave a comment, I always appreciate those!
(C) 2013 M PFEIFER
NO JOKE, NO STEALING
This story is set about 10 years prior to the events of the game (he's 16 here and 27 now), and sort of shows where he starts from. Later he becomes First Mate and then Captain of the Red Star, so I thought it would be nice to show the beginnings of that.
I'm actually very proud of this story, I took a lot of time to focus on the writing and the words, instead of say, the dialogue and the plot. It sort of helps that Skip is a man of few words and can be more observant than say my one of my first characters, a spazz named Majin ([link].
I'm also hoping to have a series of "Day One" stories for all my different characters, a bit of an origin story series, if you will.
A few notes:
- A lot of this was based on the Disney movie Treasure Planet (and in turn, Treasure Island). Originally, I was going to have it be about Skip's mentoring and how he was learning how to run a ship (sort of a la the "I'm Not Here" scene [link] but I decided he really didn't need to be that much of an angst-bucket and describing knot-tying would be the worst thing I'd ever done to myself.
- Yes, most of the "love is what keeps her up in the air" speech was lifted right from Firefly. And while it may seem a little... heavy-handed, keep in mind that the Captain is a generation that came out of an Undead Apocalypse, he probably lost everything, friends, relatives, parents... like Skip, sometimes the Sky is all he had.
- Captain Albert Alexander: [link]
Thanks for reading! Oh, and feel free to leave a comment, I always appreciate those!
(C) 2013 M PFEIFER
NO JOKE, NO STEALING
© 2013 - 2024 STRiPESandShades
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