Hydaelyn Role-Players

(Following is work in progress I'm writing for fun.  Hope you enjoy.  All rights reserved.)
The explosion shook the airship from stem to stern.  The vibrations rolled through the metal floors over and over as the the airflow that had been flying over the lift surfaces began to list as the engine power dropped almost instantly.  The leading edge of the flying machine began reaching its critical angle of attack.  The screams of stall warnings and smoke were filling the hall ways of the Garlean cruiser.

The miqo'te in the Garlean air navy uniform picked himself off the deck and swore as his pointed ears flicked.  He could hear screaming over the wails of the stall sirens as the ship began to list more and more to the port side. 

The Garlean officer seized his pistol from the deck and scrambled up to his feet.  He  turned to look down the passage way.  Fire was blazing at the fire end and sparks were shooting out of ruptured power lines.

"Damn it all."  the miqo'te swallowed.  the male adjusted the straps of the back on his back as he turned and began racing his way towards the bridge.  His boots clacked on the metal floor beneath him as he went, slipping past panicked sailors.  A unit of fire fighters, already dressed in full gear, went marching past him.  But to the miqo'te he didn't have time to wonder and wait.  The vessel was about to stall and if he wasn't able to do something, it was going to go down.

The miqo'te entered the bridge, his green eyes searching the room.  Blood was everywhere. It soaked consoles, and the deck alike.  Bodies lay strewn about, bullet holes and gashes from massive blades covering them. 

The captain of the vessel leaned against the glass observation window as he clutched his bleeding side.  A hyur stood over him with a blood soaked blade.  The hyur spat and looked back.

A grin formed over the hyur's face as he saw the miqo'te.

"Laharal, it's-"

Laharal raised his pistol and pulled the trigger.  The bullet roared from the gun and slammed into the hyur's chest.  The miqo'te watched as the hyur lurched backwards and slammed against the glass, blood ozzing down the glass as the hyur looked down at the wound with shock as he touched it.

"I-" the hyur started.  Laharl swished his tail and fired again. The hyur's chest exploded into a second shower of crimson as he lurched over and collapsed onto the ground. 

Laharl growled and rushed over to the captain's side.  The pure blooded garlean looked up at his junior officer and gave a weak nod.

"Rebels. I...out of nowhere, took us out so fast.  Couldn't react."  the captain coughed blood as he spoke weakly.  Laharal licked his lips and nodded.

"Aye, sir.  Sir, can you move?  The ship is listing into a stall. We need-"

It happened then, the airflow over the air vessel could no longer sustain lift as the engines and lift generators failed.  The stall sirens screamed as the ship slipped into a spiral. 

The miqo'te slide off his feet and went tumbling.  The gauges he could see as he rolled around were spinning out of control. The altimeter was spinning and the vertical speed indicator showed they were descending at almost five hundred feet a minute. 

The miqo'te seized a beam and tried to reach into the aether, to find any air kami he could bend to his will outside the vessel, to help right the vessel and stop the stall and spin. 

But it was no good.  He was too panicked and having too hard a time convincing the air kami to agree to help.

Laharal pulled his mind back and the shugenja looked over as the captain had seized the primary controls somehow and was traying depseratly to counter the spin but the cruiser was a large airship and she wasn't budging.  The ground below was closing fast and Laharal knew in that moment the ship was doomed.

Laharal tried to calculate how fast he could get to an escape pod but with the ships erratic movements, he didn't fancy his chances. 

Instead, he swung the pistol around and aimed it at the glass.  Without hesitation, he began firing, the bullets slamming into the thick glass.  Spider web like fractures crossed over the  surface.  The last round of his weapon's magazine tore a hole through and the wind rushed into the bridge. 

Laharal tossed his weapon aside and raised his free hand, trying to draw air kami to his palm, gathering them there as quickly as he could collect them.  The ground was getting closer.  Laharl felt the air kami squirming against his control and he released them in a singular blast at the window.  The bottom half of the glass exploded outwards with a jingling noise that was lost over the screaming sirens.

Laharal turned his green eyes around to look at the three-eyes Garlean captain trying feebly to save the ship.  The man was pale and his eyes were glassy.  But even as death was taking him, he was mashing down on the rudder controls, trying desperately to save the spiraling ship and his crew.

Laharal gave the man a salute and licked his lips as a grim sadness fell over the miqo'te's face.

"Sorry, captain."  Laharal apologized before he turned and threw himself out of the ship. The spinning vessel rotated over him and then lurched away as Laharal aimed his head downl.  He had no surface to create lift with and fell faster than the massive cruiser.  The wind tore at his face. Tears welled up in his eyes as he plummeted towards the swaying, grasslands below.  

He seized the ripcord and pulled his chute. 

The massive, canvas parachute ripped open and jerked Laharal upwards as a thermal caught the canvas.  Laharal swore as he tried to reach the Kami and shift a mass of cold air over to his potion to cancel out the thermal updraft that was jerking him around ferociously.  His feet kicked wildly as the gust of wind from the colder air pocket he had found shifted and struck the warm and there was a momentary, cyclonic rotation.  Laharal screamed as he went spinning sideways as the ground came up to meet him. 

He managed to get his feet under him just as he was about to land.  There was a horrible snapping noise.  Laharal screamed and went tumbling wildly through the waving grass. He bounced several times before he slammed into the ground and went unconscious.

-Later-

"Who is he, papa?  Is he an angel?"

"No, Joan.  He's the opposite, a Garlean."

"So are we not going to help him, papa?"

"No, we are, but not cause he deserves it.  Bring the cart and horses."

"Okay papa! I'll hurry so we can help Mr...." a paused.  "Mr. falling angel."

Laharal felt someone seize the name tag from his  chest to get a better look at it.

"Looks like the garlean is Mr. Mergrey, Joan. Now get the horses before the Twelve strike me down for letting this miqo'te die on my farm.

The first thing Laharal Mergrey saw when he opened his jade green eyes was a white ceiling.  There were cracks in the white plaster overhead and the miqo'te followed their routes as his mind slowly pieced itself back together as he regained consciousness. 

The male's vision began to swim and he felt as if he was suddenly spinning over himself.  He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply in surprise as he tried to stop the disorientation he was experiencing.  

"Ah, so you are alive." came a flat voice from beside him.

Laharal's eyes flew open and he tried to turn his head; but a pinched nerve in his neck locked his head in place and his face twisted in a clenched mask of pain as he gasped.

"Though I imagine you don't feel very alive right now." came the voice again.  Laharal heard the sound of a chair being scooted and then footsteps on a wooden floor marked the passage of the speaker towards the bed Laharal was resting in.

The miqo'te looked up at the face peering down at him.

The speaker was a short, tanned hyur with a balding head of black hair and a trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache.  He had a large nose and full cheeks that were marked with the lines of developing wrinkles.  His brown eyes held a kind shape, even if his mouth was currently scowling as he looked at Laharal.

"Suppose you are wondering who I am and where you are."  the man grunted  as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

Laharal managed a weak nod but said nothing as he watched the hyur above him.

"Well." the hyur replied calmly, leaning back.  "You got lucky.  Lot of folks around here would have left you to die in that field or, done you in themselves.  You Garleans are what we would call 'not very popular' around here.  We were fine living on our own. Then you decide you want our country and start flying your airships over, and going to war with our children and-"  the hyur stopped himself with a grunt and crossed his arms.

"My name is Alex Torme and you crashed right down in the middle of one of my fields.  Course the rest of that airship you were on crashed too; but far enough away it isn't -my- concern.  Brought you back, called the healer in from town to fix you up best we could, and been letting you sleep since."

The hyur leaned over the miqo'te and frowned.

"But let's get something clear right now. I only saved you cause it was the godly thing to do.  If I didn't pray to my god, you would be in that field fertilizing my crops.  You are welcome till you get better.  After that, I'd like you to go.  Got no need for trouble.  I don't even know if we are officially under you Empire's control or not yet, but been telling people you are an old friend of the family running from the fighting. If anyone outside my family asks while you here, you tell them that.  Or I'll make you regret I found you."

Laharal blinked at the man.  He was having some trouble grasping everything he was being told. His mind was a blur and memories of what had happened aboard the airship kept flashing up and interrupting the speaking hyur.  He did understand the man had helped him, and his body was very eagerly reminding him of how much he hurt.  Laharal knew his left leg was broken and had been set and that a lot of his body was badly bruised and stiff and sore.

But he was alive. It part to this strange hyur looking down at him.  And Laharal owed him.

"No trouble from me."  Laharal said weakly, his mouth dry.  "And thank you."

The hyur nodded, seemingly satisfied and turned.

"I'll be back in a few with some food.  It'll be nice to have you drinking on your own instead of pouring water down your throat."

Laharal could hear his footfalls as the man walked to the door and shut it.  The miqo'te sighed as he looked up.  The cracked plaster above him began to blur and Laharal slipped back into unconsciousness eagerly.

-Elsewhere-

"So, the operation was a success?"

The speaker was a young woman dressed in brown work clothes.  She was seated at a table in a small, hollowed out tunnel.  Light from a single lantern burned nearby and the lone flame flickered gently.

"Can't be sure." came the reply from her counter part, a deep voice man in a uniform like the female's.  "Haven't heard word back from our operatives on the Tempest Wind but our agents in the military are saying the higher command of the Garlean Fleet is scampering around to dispatch troops to the area the vessel was last seen."

"Doesn't mean it's for sure down." the female said thoughtfully. "For all we know, it's failed and they are going to invade."

"Invade what?" the man chuckled.  "Farms?  They need that infrastructure untouched to feed their armies.  It's not like they're invading Eorzea here."

"Wish they -were- invading those idiots." the woman growled.

"Be that as it may, they didn't. The Garleans added -us- to their Empire and now we are making them pay for it." the man smirked.  "That aside, we've already sent an agent to the town near the ship's last known location to get a report.  Should hear in a week or two.  But even if that ship didn't go down, this is still a massive success.  Managing the infiltrate the Garlean Navy so utterly that we had operatives stationed aboard a covert testing mission shows how far we've come."

The woman nodded at that.