
09-01-2010, 06:00 AM
Author's Note: This story is set in a 'steampunk' universe. It's a popular genre among fantasy writers, and it involves alternate history and technology powered by steam and a more 'victorian' idealism.
I'm literally making this up as I go, daydreaming while I'm at work. Let me know what you think
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Florian narrowed his soft brown eyes in the hot evening breeze that swept over the vast floating city.
Massive airships powered by steam and gas moved in and out of the docks as the young boy looked on, ever anticipating the return of one particular ship whose battered visage would eventually come sailing through the toxic gases' emitted by the decaying planet far below.
The young boy stood on his leathery, bare feet, his grubby clothing clinging to his slender, form as he spotted the banged-up ship amongst the Impressive and polished, well kempt crimson and black zeppelins bearing the cross-like seal of Her Majesty's Imperial Navy.
The composite propellers that made up the 'Temperance Wind' primary engine coolant system glinted in the dying amber sunlight as it crept ever slowly, almost haltingly towards the dock.
Florian's heart pounded against his ribs with anticipation: Captain Daniel Granger, the only man that Florian had known as a father, was coming home, and he was sure to have stories of the Living lands, where people walked upon the earth, and fruit grew from trees, from the lands that were untouched by the Great Disaster as if it had never happened.
Naturally, these were pure fantasy; everyone knew that the World had been destroyed nearly five hundred years before, even Florian knew that, and he wasn’t permitted to attend school due to his low social class.
But the tales and legends were always fantastic, and let the boy dream that one day, maybe, if he was lucky, he would be permitted to join captain Granger’s crew and sail form sky port to sky port and explore the Germanian Empire in it’s entirety.
But something seemed amiss that night as Florian stood waiting in the stifling heat of the atmosphere; there was a great electricity that seemed to be gathering in the air around the small port off the south side of Luftberlin. The ship its;ef seemed hesitant to dock, fighting against a strong breeze as the canvases that comprised the balloon struggled slightly, threatening to tear the seams on a fresh patch.
Florian lifted his slender little hands to shield his eyes as he watched the crew tossing ropes out to the people who waited in the dock, anchoring the small, ragtag Zeppelin airship into the waiting port. The gangplank was lowered and it was about all young Florian could do to contain himself, his heart racing so fast he was certain he would either swoon or die from excitement.
The boy leapt from the crates upon which he had been perched, running to meet the weathered crew.
Much to Florian's shock, there was a terribly somber air about the men who got off the gangplank, few of which bore familiar faces to Florian.
But perhaps the most difficult thing for Florian to understand was that each looked as if they had seen a ghost, and when Captain Granger appeared at the head of the gangplank, he looked the most harried of them all, his face considerably gaunter than when he had left, as if he’d been struck by a sudden illness along the way. Of course this was not uncommon, but Captain granger couldn’t get sick…he was one of the greatest adventurers of all time!
The Captain was a tall man, of a healthy and commanding height, though not obscenely tall, of average build, with sand colored hair and a crooked smile. Some would define him as 'dashing' while others might call him a little on the 'sloppy' side.
On a good day, when the wind was right, one could practically see the sense of adventure that seemed to follow this goggled man, but today things were different, he looked as if deaths hand had touched him.
"Captain?" Florian called as the dusty haired man passed him with slumped shoulders. "Captain?"
Daniel’s face fell as he rushed down the gangplank, turning Florian around immediately. "You need to go home right away, Florian. Don't tell anyone you were here, got it, kiddo?"
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No, just forget about it. I’ll come by the tavern later and I’ll tell you a story.
Florian narrowed his eyes, his brown curls obscuring his vision. "Yes, captain."
"Good boy, Florian, now run along, and hurry, I‘ll be right behind, I promise."
Florian walked until Daniel had disappeared from sight behind a row of crates, then the boy circled around, crouching in the shadows to see what the infamous airmen had brought back from their latest adventure.
Florian's heart skipped a beat when he saw a small, personal aircraft bearing the crimson, black and white Imperial Seal sailing through the coppery air straight for the hanger in which Captain Granger had docked his ragtag zeppelin.
The young boy paused for a moment, his heart leaping into his throat. For a man who lead a life like Captain Granger, the government prying in wasn't a good sign. Especially not the Empire.
Even Florian's innocent mind realized that, and for a split second, he contemplated darting out of hiding and warning the Captain, but by the reaction of the crew, they had been long aware of the airships ensuing arrival.
Captain Granger didn't look pleased, but he was compliant; it had obviously been a planned meet up.
Florian crept closer, the hot wind making him sweat terribly as a rather portly man in full Imperial regalia stepped off the personal craft, his entourage rushing quickly to attention in the polished olvie green and brass-buttoned uniforms.
The Captain grudgingly saluted the man as several of the Captain's men disappeared back onto the zeppelin.
Florian could barely hear the hum of male voices as the officer spoke rather abruptly to Captain Granger, who remained calm, though his face betrayed him; he did not approve of what was being said.
Both men fell silent, however, when the men returned with something Florian had never seen before in his short life.
A woman walked behind the thuggish crew mates with a stiff sort of formality, her silver-white hair glinting in the polluted sunset.
It was cropped short at her forehead, ears and neck, like a boy, and though her skin was a medium tone, she was clothed head to toe in dazzling foreign clothing unlike any the Empire had ever seen before.
Her skirt hit just above the, but touched the back of her calves in back, with soft, silver-whit petticoats concealing her strong legs, and she wore a coat of white, trimmed with silver fur that matched a large, round hat adorning her head.
But perhaps the most startling thing about this woman was her eyes: they were large, but not grotesquely so and almandine in shape, but they were a deep, clear crimson.
Florian knew right away who, or rather, what, she was: She was a Shamballan.
Her visage met the legends perfectly, there was no mistaking it!
But if she were in fact a Shamballan, than that would have to mean that the dead earth that loomed far below still held life, that the toxic volcanic gases' and the radiation had not permeated the entire planet...
That all the myths that Florain had been told held a small degree of truth behind them.
The boy’s heart rose in his chest and he felt himself begin to trempbel with excitement and anticipation; he had many questions for a Shamballan; do they really drink blood? Are they immortal? Are they really from the surface of the earth? What was Snow like? What was dirt like?
Florian had almost nearly forgotten where he was when he heard a loud blast from the end of the port. Followed by raised voices and gunshots.
Florian froze, his body shuddering as cold fear paralyzed him, followed by concern for the Captain. But it the the Imperian Army, what could he do? Surely he would die trying? And ht ecaptain would skin him alive if he did anything stupid…
But if he didn’t do something stupid, Captain Granger would die!
Florian stood up, stiffening his resolve, preparing himself to charge, still trembling, straight into the fray. He wasn’t about to let a famous adventurer like Captain Granger die!
There was a deafening boom and a gret black-grey blur shot over Florian’s head.
It was the personal craft, and on the back loading bay stood the Shamballain, bound in a leather straightjacket, her cropped hair fluttering over her striking face like feathers.
Her crimson eyes met Florian’s for a moment before she was pulled inside and a heavily accented voice rang through Florian’s ears without any sound or movement of the woman’s lips.
“You must stop them.”
Moments later, the thrusters of the personal craft flaired, singing the wooden crates with steam.
“Captain Granger!” Florian called suddenly, realizing where he was. He had to find his precious Captain…
The young boy darted amongst the shipping crates, soaked in steam and exhaust, but when he came around the corner his heart nearly stopped. There sat the flaming remains of the Temperance Wind, the charred remains of it’s crew laying scattered about the hull and the floor of the bay.
Florian nearly screamed, falling to his knees. No…it couldn’t be…the c aptain was dead?
Sirens began to roar as the Military Police swarmed overhead, they crimson lights flashing on the growing clouds of pollution that shrouded the city.
XxX
Back at the tavern, Florian lay in his mothers shared baed, staring at the metal ceiling beams.
He hadn’t told anyone. He hadn’t said a word. He had somply come home and gone straight to bed.
Fear had seized his young heart, and he was afraid to even tell anyone where he had been, not that his mother had asked, and he was certain that the Millitary Police would find him soon enough.
Maybe they would execute him on the spot? They did that to people like him, people who weren’t ‘perfect’ or people with a low upbringing, people who really had no ‘purpose‘ in the Empire.
And Florian was the lowest of the low; he was the bastard child of a prostitute, a piece of street trash. It was a wonder they hadn’t thrown both he and his mother overboard by now.
There was an abrupt knock at the door and Florian’s heart stopped, making the boy gasp before pulling the covers over his head; perhaps if they couldn’t see him, they would go away…
The door slowly, cautiously opened, the soft creaking sound sending chills up his spine; it was as if death itself was creeping into the room.
He heard the person coming closer, ever closer, the footfalls to heavy and soft to be those of his mother’s.
“Florian. I know you’re awake.”
Florian, whose’ eyes had been squeezed shut in fear, sat straight up, throwing the grubby blankets off of himself.
“Captain!”
Daniel Granger held up a finger for silent, his pale eyes having lost their glitter that they had even just after stepping off of his airship earlier.
“Florian, it’s dread important that you tell no one I came here. I’m already putting you in grave danger.”
Granger spoke in his light, Britaninan accent, his weathered hand resting heavily on the boys shoulder.
“But why?”
“I have to go tonight. I won’t be coming back.” the Captain paused, knitting his brow. “Florian, I am entrusting you with my legacy. Tonight, the Empire wants me dead, but I know that in leaving my legacy to you, you will be able to succeed where I have failed.”
There was a noise form the hallway, heavy sounding footfalls, jackboots on the steel floor. The Captain shook his head, looking haunted, lost.
“Florian, I am trusting you, as a father would trust his son…you have been my son, all these years, and I would change nothing, but you must not let them win, you must succeed.”
“Captain?”
“Hush…lay back down. I must go now…”
Captain Daniel stood up, glancing furtively at the door, the sound of the jackboots passing. Florian watched him leave, sitting in silent confusion, desperately sad as captain granger disappeared into the consuming darkness.
There was a shout form the corridor, and the sound of gunfire. Florain felt tears spring into his eyes, but he couldn’t move out of fear, rooted to the filthy bed.
The Captain was dead.
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Hello Sweetie
Last edited by IadulDraculai; 09-03-2010 at 09:14 PM..
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