During the Siren War, the Azur Lane made a shocking discovery; they were not the first to take the fight to the Sirens. Stumbling across a frozen, mountainous island, the girls found traces of a cataclysmic battle, as well as what appeared to be human/mechanical remains.
These were brought back and, with the power of the wisdom cubes, rebuilt as the Shipboys, ships of more futuristic yet primal origin. After initial clashes wrought of confusion, the Shipboys were reminded of the alien threat that wiped them out, and are determined to use this second chance to protect more than just the man at his side...
Chapter 3: Hunters Moon
The foliage of the tree canopy was the perfect spot for a hunter to wait for prey. High above, keeping watchful eye over the happenings down below, before reaching down like a thunderbolt. Savoring the kill.
Minneapolis knew this feeling well. Perfectly camouflaged with her woven tribal cloak, she was indiscernible from the orange and red leaves of autumn. Below her, a deer gracefully stepped, completely oblivious to her presence.
Minneapolis readied a bow, nocking an arrow to it and breathing silently, preparing for full draw. In spite of herself, her heart began to race. This was it! She smiled wickedly.
Steadily, silently, she brought her bow to thefull draw, the arrowhead nestled snug against the neck of the bow. She couldn't miss. She was far too close...
BANG
The buck fell dead, a neat bloody hole in the neck, just below the skull. The suddenness of the noise and the shock of surprise caused Minneapolis to release her arrow. It buried itself right into the lungs. A perfect kill shot, but pointless now.
"Goddammit!" She exclaimed and began to climb out of the tree, when she heard it.
A faint rustling of leaves on the forest floor of something, like cloth being dragged. She suspended herself and watched the forest below as she beheld the hunter who had beaten her to the prey.
The figure was dressed in a shawl-like cloak, colored mottled green and brown. It glided over the leaves, stalking silently for fear of hostile hunters. What stopped her though, was despite how quiet the hunter was being, Minneapolis distinctly heard the sound of servos whining.
It was a Shipboy.
Minneapolis carefully watched as the warship scanned left then right again, clutching a large rail gun as his hunting weapon. That would explain why the hole was so clean.
The ship boy hefted his rifle in his right hand, knelt down and placed the left on the bucks head, gently patting it. Slowly, respectfully, he closed its eyes before reaching to his wait pulling out a short, sharp knife. This he plunged into the upper neck under the jaw and flung it out swiftly. If there was any life left in the poor creature, it was now released. The whole while, the rifle remained in his hands.
Suddenly, the Shipboy noticed the feathers of Minneapolis' arrow. Immediately, he raised the rifle and began scanning the area. Minneapolis froze.
From under the shawl, she could see an angry red glow emanate from his face.
"Where you," came a metallic, lilting voice, as if speaking through an auto tune.
Minneapolis stayed absolutely still. This was no stupid bruiser that Shipboys tended to be. This one had actually slipped under her unawares to steal her kill. She had no doubt he could just as easily take her life.
"I know yer thar." The Shipboy scanned the tree line, "revealing yerself nea moks dis much lass unpleasant."
Sweat formed on Minneapolis face. Who the heck was this guy?!
A red laser suddenly shot forth, probing the tree line, but whether it came from the rifle or something else, Minneapolis could not say. The beam scoured the tree before swiveling to her hiding place. It lingered for a second, then moved on.
Grumbling down below could be heard as the Shipboy picked up the deer, flung it over his shoulders and lumbered off. Still holding his rifle.
Minneapolis finally allowed herself to breathe normally. Fear but also curiosity began to form with in her. She should egress, but...
"This will not end well," she muttered to herself as she slipped into the shadows and followed the hunter off...
Minneapolis watched as the shipboy processed the deer, deftly skinning it before slicing it open and removing the organs and offal. These he set aside and then began harvesting the meat. Haunches, brisket, backstrap, shanks and shoulder chuck, he quickly cleaned the bones of the deep red meat and placed the meats on an elevated rack over a slow burning fire, set the moment he got back to camp. He quietly proceeded to smoke the meat, throwing salt, basil, thyme and pepper on the rack at odd intervals.
As the meat smoked, the shipboy took the stomach and emptied the rotted remains into a bowl. The foul smelling slop almost made Minneapolis gag, but the shipboy immediately began throwing aromatics into the bowl. That done, he took the stomach, stuffing the intestines and lungs inside. Finally, he took the heart, and, lighting a number of small candles, began to hum and sway.
Minneapolis watched in disbelief as the shipboy took the raw chunk of flesh to his mouth and, without pause, proceeded to eat the deer's heart. Jaws wrenching piece after piece of the tough, stringy organ, blood dribbling down his chin as he quietly continued his ritual. The whole while, he continued to hum and rock back and forth on the heels of his feet.
This strange ritual was so alien to Minneapolis that she almost didn't notice that even now, the Shipboy held on to his gun. He had not put it down once, not since she first saw him.
Heart devoured, the shipboy raised his left hand to the sky, towards the rising moon. A metallic hooting sounded out as he gave a strange war cry.
"Thank ye, Odin! Master of Valhalla, Guardian of the World Tree! Bless me, your hunter, with more successful hunts, that I may provide for my brothers with your bounty."
Almost on que, a twig snapped, shocking both Shipboy and Minneapolis out of the trance.
Another buck had wandered out of the woods. But this was no ordinary deer. This one was massive, practically an elk. His massive antler rack caught the moonlight and dazzled the ground with their sheen.
Dipping its massive head, the deer bugled a long mournful note before stopping and looking straight at Minneapolis. Dead straight at her, so inconspicuously, she knew, it was ordering her to reveal herself.
Clutching her bow, readying an arrow, she got up and stepped out of the bush.
The shipboy, hearing her, whirled around, and stared straight at her. And finally, Minneapolis got a good look at her equal number.
He was a shorter shipboy. Roughly standing at 5 and a half feet tall. His legs split apart at the knees, making it appear he had two pairs of feet. He stood on the balls of his toes, heels just off the ground. A patchwork of staples and scars ran along his torso and up his neck, out of which were dozens of frayed and chewed-upon wires.
His right hand didn't simply hold the rail gun; it was the rail gun. Vestigial fingers hung limply from what what would be the stock, cloth and runes printed up and down its length.
But his face. Or rather his eyes. Or, more to the point, his eye.
A bolted plate of metal wrapped around the Shipboy's head, wires and connectors spilling every which way in a mad tangle, all connected to a single, bulbous red photoreceptor in the center of his brow. Minneapolis knew now this was the laser that had scanned the trees. His nose was scoured off, just two holes just below the plate, but his mouth appeared to be normal, as far as she could tell.
He turned back to the Elk, Minneapolis also shifting her attention to the animal.
The deer pause for a brief moment then gave another long bugle before turning around glancing over its shoulder. Shipgirl and boy looked at each other again. The message was clear.
Minneapolis nocked the arrow.
The Shipboy methodically loaded his rail gun.
Both waited, their breathing deafening in anticipation. Minneapolis ground her left foot into the ground ready to spring. The Shipboy reared back on his second pair of feet, likewise.
They waited.
The buck bolted suddenly, and the race was on.
Minneapolis immediately loosed her arrow, reaching for another as she launched herself forward. It was unlikely, but it was still a lottery.
Can't win if you don't play.
The result was better than expected, the arrow grazing the haunches of the deer and causing it to wheel across her perpendicularly.
Meanwhile the Shipboy practically galloped after the deer, raising his right arm, steadying with the left, and firing.
CRACK!
The bolt barely missed the deer, ricocheting off its ivory antlers.
The deer kicked in defiance of both hunters and darted into the thicket. By now, the sun was gone, replaced by gentle, silvery light.
The moon hung low and white, illuminating the trail.
Minneapolis and Shipboy ran side by side, neither hindering nor helping the other. They respected the hunters code, that everyone had the right to the hunt, but one's efforts are ones own. To the victor goes the prize.
Minneapolis launched herself forward, grabbing a low tree branch and flinging herself above the brush just long enough or a clear shot. She nocked, aimed, and released.
This time she was rewarded with a squeal from the deer as it struck its haunch. But the deer did not falter, darting deeper into the forest.
The Shipboy grunted with exertion, enraptured by the hunt. Planting two feet into a tree trunk, he aimed and fired his rail gun.
Crack!
The shot went wide, but now the deer spun around, in the Shipboys line of fire, away from Minneapolis.
Cursing under her breath, she new she didn't have a lot of time. The Shipboy was reloading, placing the bolt into the chamber even as she nocked an arrow. He raised his rifle. He couldn't miss. Not this time. The shot was way too clear for that.
Minneapolis vaulted a rock, diving headlong as she aimed, then they both fired. Minneapolis didn't see what happened next as she went tumbling head over heels down the embankment.
When she got to her feet, she saw a figure standing over her. The Shipboy. He regarded her a moment, sizing her up, then his mouth broke into a smile. He reached out his hand.
"Vat waas the most exsating hunt I's been on," he said in his auto tuned voice.
Minneapolis regarded the hand, then accepted it.
"The deer-"
The shipboy laughed and pointed to the ridge.
There it was. Staring imperiously down at them. Dipping his magnificent head, it gave an unmistakable salute to both of them before fixing them with his eyes. Both shipgirl and boy knew what it was saying.
Come find me again when you are ready.
Then with a final bugle, it was gone.
"We'd shard head o' back," the Shipboy lilted, "come, ye caan camp wiv moi tanight."
Minneapolis nodded appreciatively and smiled.
"Minds if I haas yer naam?"
"Minneapolis," she said, offering her head, "that deer you're smoking...that was my arrow in its shoulder."
The shipboy reached out his left hand and accepted her gesture. His single photoreceptor flashed twice and Minneapolis knew it was his form of winking.
"Aye, I's knows. Ol' Mimir dant miss nuffin."
"Then he laughed and motioned to the forest.
"Except zat one. Furst eva'."
Minneapolis shrugged.
"Same here. But...in a way I'm glad. That was one hell of a hunt. I look forward to sharing another with you, Mimir."
"'N I wiv ye, Minneapolis."
The pale moon hung low, shining his silver rays across the forest. Showing the way back to the hunters...
Chapter 3 of the Shipboy introductions. I have several I plan to write, but I'll post when I can.
I consider Hunters Moon, by Ghost, to be Mimir/Minneapolis theme. Give it a listen if you like! Better yet, listen as you read.
A pound I wanted to make known is Shipboys do not have "rigging" like girls do. Their tech is built into them, not around them. Hope that cleared things up.
Leave a review if you want, let me know how you like it.