7: The Foehammer
The south dock wasn't much different from all the others. It was a large area of stone bricks, some small weeds growing within the tiny gaps. The platform itself jutted out from the edge of the sloped cliff that led down into the sea, which was lit by the sun's early afternoon rays. A huge ship was docked in the centre, pinned down by several large iron nails that had been set in the ground, several thick nylon cords wrapped around them.
The ship itself was made of normal wood, but, like the Hyperion, the three sails were a rich and valiant red and emblazoned with the proud gold of the Guild's insignia. It had changed since the Reformation (the historic event about seven hundred years ago when the Guild became the ruling government); it now looked like two snake-like creatures wrapped around a sword and was coloured a tarnished gold (except on airships where it was bright gold), whereas before it was a dragon, breathing fire and surrounded by a thin circle, all silver. That symbol was now engraved into the currency instead. Whether it was in remembrance of the Reformation or because they couldn't think of anything else to put on the coins was unknown.
"This," Irvine announced, pointing at the mammoth aircraft before them, "is the Foehammer. This ship is one that was constructed entirely here on Yii-Do, fully equipped with cannons, crossbow turrets and six tow cables, three per side, made entirely of Noctalite. It was very, very expensive to make." He paused for a moment, allowing what'd he'd said to sink in. "...And it's all ours. Hop aboard! The Shipmaster will be wanting to see you."
Dante and the others exclaimed with delight, racing one another to the large ramp carved from the ship's hull, desperate to get onboard an airship for the second time in their lives.
The top deck of the ship was a pleasant place to be. The angle the Foehammer had docked at managed to catch the breeze, which sliced gently through the ruffling sails and across the hunters' skin. There were two sets of stairs, on the left and right, near the rear of the ship that led to the cabin, where everybody would leave their belongings and sleep in hammocks stockpiled in layers of three. From down there, one could reach the brig to the left and the lavatory to the right. Nearer the bow of the ship, more or less behind the steering wheel, was a smaller set of steps, smaller and steeper, that led to the captain's quarters.
"Isn't this great? Imagine what it'll be like when we take off! It'll be even better than before. Setting of through the clouds with the wind in your face toward the heart of enemy territory on a mission that could potentially win us the war -well, win us the war quicker- just gives me such a rush. Don't you feel it too?" Yumi sighed, already breathtaken simply by standing on the deck of an airship again. Yumi didn't smile too often, not properly at least...but right now, her smile was so wide that Dante thought she might pull a muscle in her face if she smiled any harder. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating it a little, but it was quite the giddy grin for one who barely allows a thin smile to cross her face.
"Oi, you lot! Get yer wee selves over here! We'll be needin' to be 'avin' words before we set off!" a thick, accented voice boomed from nearby. They turned to see a large man, immensely tall and muscular, with a stocky, robust build and broad shoulders standing in front of the steering wheel, which had a pair of levers beside it which were used to alter the angle of the sails (or so the teens had been told in school- modern airships such as this were all outfitted with advanced mechanics hidden beneath the thick hull) and an extra one on the right, which activated the engines. Dante, Alexis, Aaron and the others, all crowded together, stood there with blank expressions, like small children do when they are given a long speech that they don't understand.
"Come on, then, let's be 'avin' ye! We cannay sit in the docks all day!" he called out again, less patient and with a smidgeon more urgency this time. The teen hunters all rushed toward him, standing round the huge man like a crowd at a campfire. Having a closer look at the man who now towered over them, Dante could see that he had short brown hair tied into a ponytail, and his eyes were as red as crimson blood. He had a shapeless moustache that concealed his upper lip from view and his face was covered in a thick layer of brown stubble. His face was aged and a large, intimidating scar was scrawled down the left side of his face, his lower left eyelid slightly disfigured as a result. None of them really focused their gaze on it, though; they were fairly seasoned hunters, as hunters go in the outer regions, and they had seen scars much worse than this. He was covered from head to toe in ornate armour that was a dull, tarnished silver colour, with a stip of tattered fabric as red as his eyes wound around his waist, the excess dangling inbetween his legs. The armour was engraved with elegant, expertly-designed patterns, mostly circular or semi-circular, placing emphasis on the bearer's appearance. It was also covered in splatters of blood, scratches, welts and all sorts of superficial wear and tear, the evidence of many years of either monster hunting or warfare- probably the latter in this case, as, while his crimson eyes had the fire of a rookie hunter, his skin showed his age, and the rest of his face was haggard and worn. A supremely daunting silver mace, covered in cruel, stubby spikes, some of which were also covered in dried blood. The tip of the handle was small and rounded, also covered in miniature spikes. They had never seen a person so utterly sanguinary in their lives.
"Hello t' all o' ye. The name's Thain, or if yer bein' all formal-like, Thain, The Iron Fist. 'Tis mighty fine to be meetin' ye. Welcome aboard my lass, the finest airship within a thousand miles in any direction- the Foehammer," the man began, gesticulating to the vessel he so clearly adored. "Anyway, I s'pose I should be gettin' on with what I brought ye over to say. There are some rules aboard my ship. Number one- I'm the cap'n. You do as I say, when I say and how I say. This is for your own safety. Number two- don't be feckin' about with me ship. I drive 'er for a reason. Number three: feel free to relax! This ain't no sea vessel. There'll be no a-fiddlin' about with all those ropes an' all that shite, 'cause there ain't none. All I need to do in the maintenance way is steer and angle the sails when need be. And number four: always be ready for an attack. Wyverns ain't the only thing we'll be needin' to stay on our toes for: Tenkai's got 'emselves airships as well. 'Tis likely we'll run into a tussle, one way or t'other."
Thain paused for a few seconds like Irvine had, making sure his words had time to sink in.
"Well, tha' just about wraps it all up," he said, stretching his arms wide and clasping the wooden rungs of the steering wheel (airship steering wheels had wooden bars carved out of them rather than the traditional knobs stuck on sea ship wheels). "You'll be wantin' to get some rest righ' about now; airship travel's hard to get accustomed to, so yer biological clock migh' be messed up for a small while. Go on, away with ye!" he commanded without turning around. The teenagers slowly stode off to the cabin, already a little sleepy after the surprising tiring struggle with the Mad Gigginox, the airship rumbling beneath their feet as Thain pulled the far right lever, activating the engines, already lifting the Foehammer off of the ground.
The Akura Jebia and the One-Eyed Gurenzeburu crept as quietly as a hulking Carapaceon and angry Flying Wyvern could around the rocky edges of the sandy shore, the thick jungle trees just behind them.
Look, up there! the Jebia hissed, jabbing ahead with its pincer. The One-Eyed Gurenzeburu turned his gaze upward to see a massive ship sat on the edge of a stone landing pad built into a sheer, slightly sloping rocky cliff. He grinned with satisfaction.
The humans are there, the Barbarian wyvern murmured, his sotto voce musing rattling in his throat like dragon's fire, I can smell them.
As he said this, the airship's rear exhaust blazed into life, bright blue flames coming out from the metal tube. Slowly, it began to lift off of the ground, the bow turning to face the distance.
It's leaving! the Jebia screeched, alarmed. The Gurenzeburu roared with frustration, luckily too far away to be heard by any humans.
NO! I will not allow the Blue One to escape my clutches yet again! We must follow them!
How? I can't fly.
At first, the Akura Jebia seriously thought that the One-Eyed Gurenzeburu was going to callously abandon him and shoot off after the humans alone. It seemed like the only thing he could do, unless he wanted to wait for them to come back...if they came back at all, that is. But it thought wrong. The Flying Wyvern growled then flung the Carapaceon into the air. As the Akura Jebia hissed and shrieked, it fell silent as it landed on the back of the now airborne Gurenzeburu with a dull, hollow *thump*.
Are you insane?! You can't possibly carry my weight for any credible amount of time! 'Blos knows how long they're going to be in the air! the Jebia shouted.
I CARE NOT! the Gurenzeburu roared back. I'm stronger than I look! Besides, I thought you wanted to see them dead! Or is that not so anymore?
The Jebia knew the Gurenzeburu was right. There was no other way. It had to trust its rather disagreeable partner in crime if it wanted to have his its revenge. The Jebia stayed silent, staring at the airship to fuel his hatred of the small party of hunters as the One-Eyed Gurenzeburu jetted off through the sky, making sure to follow its quarry at a safe distance.
The beginning of their revenge.