[M:0]
Post by Nathan on Jun 10, 2008 1:18:33 GMT -6
Selected Tales from the Veliken War:
Mutiny on The Massive
Captain McMaky was enjoying a nice plate of broiled eucalyptus, which was preceded by a steaming hot bowl of spiced eucalyptus soup. He was eating in the modestly decorated Officers’ Mess, along with his other officers, his Lavalonian officers. The Natopian-born officers had long ago been either asked, discretely or openly, by the Lavalonian officers to kindly eat with their countrymen, in the regular, crowded Mess. Such a notion was absurd by naval tradition, as officers of the fleet had earned their way through the ranks, and expected a slight bit of privacy when they ate. Under these particular circumstances, the officers took more pride at eating with their countrymen than with the Lavalonian officers. The enlisted crew, all Natopian, made special arrangements to set aside a small corner of the large Mess for the officers.
“That captain of ours, what a pole!” Lieutenant Commander Ian Dewaer, the ship’s first mate, said, rather loudly, “eating his fancy koala food with his no-fun Nancy officers. And another thing…” A young seaman was sitting rather close-by, and began to agree with all of the things Dewaer said, albeit the officer being under the influence of some contraband Alexandrian Wine he had “guarded” on the night of King Nathan’s coronation. The young seaman, Seaman First Class Frederick Nacho, had always distrusted the Lavalonians after their government destroyed the one chance at an empire Natopia will have. Why, now, were they in command of a Natopian warship? Thoughts of hatred swarmed in Frederick Nacho’s mind…
Later that night, while Nacho was lying awake in his bunk, too busy thinking of how much he hated the Lavalonians to sleep, his bunkmate, Huston LaRue awoke to Nacho’s mutterings, “Hey Nach, whacho goin’ on abou’ those damn Lavos?” “Oh, Husty, sorry I woke you… it was something Dewaer said at dinner, he doesn’t like those Lavs in command of this ship anymore than we do! And I was thinking, if a upstanding, loyal, honorable, trained, Anschluss Academy grad thinks them Lavs ain’t no good for us, then dammit, why are they still here?” whispered Nacho up to his bunkmate. “I reckon the goats at Lindstrom have a good reason for keepin’ ‘em here… We don’ even ‘sider they’s a real country, do we? No, then why they’s runnin’ OUR damn ship? I tell’s ya why, I TELL’S ya why, damn Lavos is stealing from us, from our King! Gonna build themselves a purdy ship, bolt for bolt like ours, a Lavalonian The Massive, the disgrace! Builds ‘em up a fleet o’ ‘Massives, and BAM they’s burning down ‘de Nada. Tain’t ‘nough to crush our empire, now they’s gotta copy-cat our boats and rape our wonderful city…” LaRue was almost yelling now, “And when they get in our city… they’s gonna paint is GREEN I tell ya…. a sickly euca-green!” LaRue pantomimed vomiting on a conveniently placed Lavalonian flag to much delight of the awoken crewmen. Many joined in, regaling the others of stories and rumors of evil Lavalonians kicking puppies, kicking their dear old aunties, and kicking small, good, wholesome Natopian girls who where just jumping rope. The noise was so loud, the crewmen of the adjoining compartment woke up, and slowly filed in to find out what the ruckus was. Many, staying because they supported the spontaneous anti-Lavalonian movement, others just because they knew they wouldn’t get to sleep again. When the noise reached a peak, and several crewmen resorted to fisticuffs in order to gain the “soapbox.” The night Duty Watch Officer, a Lavalonian, burst into the compartment to demand what was going on. The room went dead silent, all eyes were on the Lavalonian, who, immediately fearing for his life, slowly walked out of the room. But a crewman slammed it shut. Another held him down, while others tied him up. Mutiny. They couldn’t stop know, aldrenaline had taken the first step for them, but wouldn’t take them back again. They were committed, whether they wanted to be or not.
LaRue, not the most eloquent of speakers, had been, by mob-mentality, selected as the leader of the mutineers. He lead them to the upper decks, tearing down the posters of the Lavalonian President as he went. Captain McMaky was standing behind his door, pistol drawn. The door crashed open, downward onto McMaky, but he lost no time and fired through the door. LaRue was dead and the mutineers reminded McMaky of this, though indirectly. As the throng kept pushing from behind, those in front who had seen this event were forced onto the door, crushing McMaky to death. Some of the mutineers split off, and while most Lavalonians were found cowering in the corner of their quarters, a handful were waiting for them, pistols drawn. Four Natopians, including LaRue, died as a result. One other Lavalonian was beaten to death for killing a crewman.
The Lavalonians were lead to the deck, forced on a life raft, and left adrift, hopefully to drift onto the shores of Palastina and be given a warm welcome, as they were still wearing their Natopian Navy uniforms.
Now, as the ship’s first mate, this left Lt. Cmd. Dewaer in an awkward position. Already he was on the bridge, wondering how this had all happened. Had he participated? He was still drunk on that Alexandrian Wine yesterday. Could he? No… he was asleep in his quarters. Right? No time to second guess yourself now, he chastised himself, take a hold of the situation. The radio officer informed him of an incoming message from the Mehlville, the other ship blockading Miska. Mehlville’s captain was requesting to speak with McMaky. Shit. What now? Improvise? ‘Oh sorry, he’s… uh… sick, bye!’ No, this is the Navy, we can make better excuses than that. “Captain Dewaer, the Mehlville’s captain sends his congratulations to you,” the radio officer finally said after, it seemed to Dewaer, ages. “For what? And… what? Captain? Are you OK?” Dewaer flustered. “Yes sir, it took you so long to respond I told the Mehlville everything that happened,” the radio officer said. “And… their captain is OK with this… questions?” “No sir.” “Damn… what kind of navy IS this?”
Mutiny on The Massive
Captain McMaky was enjoying a nice plate of broiled eucalyptus, which was preceded by a steaming hot bowl of spiced eucalyptus soup. He was eating in the modestly decorated Officers’ Mess, along with his other officers, his Lavalonian officers. The Natopian-born officers had long ago been either asked, discretely or openly, by the Lavalonian officers to kindly eat with their countrymen, in the regular, crowded Mess. Such a notion was absurd by naval tradition, as officers of the fleet had earned their way through the ranks, and expected a slight bit of privacy when they ate. Under these particular circumstances, the officers took more pride at eating with their countrymen than with the Lavalonian officers. The enlisted crew, all Natopian, made special arrangements to set aside a small corner of the large Mess for the officers.
“That captain of ours, what a pole!” Lieutenant Commander Ian Dewaer, the ship’s first mate, said, rather loudly, “eating his fancy koala food with his no-fun Nancy officers. And another thing…” A young seaman was sitting rather close-by, and began to agree with all of the things Dewaer said, albeit the officer being under the influence of some contraband Alexandrian Wine he had “guarded” on the night of King Nathan’s coronation. The young seaman, Seaman First Class Frederick Nacho, had always distrusted the Lavalonians after their government destroyed the one chance at an empire Natopia will have. Why, now, were they in command of a Natopian warship? Thoughts of hatred swarmed in Frederick Nacho’s mind…
Later that night, while Nacho was lying awake in his bunk, too busy thinking of how much he hated the Lavalonians to sleep, his bunkmate, Huston LaRue awoke to Nacho’s mutterings, “Hey Nach, whacho goin’ on abou’ those damn Lavos?” “Oh, Husty, sorry I woke you… it was something Dewaer said at dinner, he doesn’t like those Lavs in command of this ship anymore than we do! And I was thinking, if a upstanding, loyal, honorable, trained, Anschluss Academy grad thinks them Lavs ain’t no good for us, then dammit, why are they still here?” whispered Nacho up to his bunkmate. “I reckon the goats at Lindstrom have a good reason for keepin’ ‘em here… We don’ even ‘sider they’s a real country, do we? No, then why they’s runnin’ OUR damn ship? I tell’s ya why, I TELL’S ya why, damn Lavos is stealing from us, from our King! Gonna build themselves a purdy ship, bolt for bolt like ours, a Lavalonian The Massive, the disgrace! Builds ‘em up a fleet o’ ‘Massives, and BAM they’s burning down ‘de Nada. Tain’t ‘nough to crush our empire, now they’s gotta copy-cat our boats and rape our wonderful city…” LaRue was almost yelling now, “And when they get in our city… they’s gonna paint is GREEN I tell ya…. a sickly euca-green!” LaRue pantomimed vomiting on a conveniently placed Lavalonian flag to much delight of the awoken crewmen. Many joined in, regaling the others of stories and rumors of evil Lavalonians kicking puppies, kicking their dear old aunties, and kicking small, good, wholesome Natopian girls who where just jumping rope. The noise was so loud, the crewmen of the adjoining compartment woke up, and slowly filed in to find out what the ruckus was. Many, staying because they supported the spontaneous anti-Lavalonian movement, others just because they knew they wouldn’t get to sleep again. When the noise reached a peak, and several crewmen resorted to fisticuffs in order to gain the “soapbox.” The night Duty Watch Officer, a Lavalonian, burst into the compartment to demand what was going on. The room went dead silent, all eyes were on the Lavalonian, who, immediately fearing for his life, slowly walked out of the room. But a crewman slammed it shut. Another held him down, while others tied him up. Mutiny. They couldn’t stop know, aldrenaline had taken the first step for them, but wouldn’t take them back again. They were committed, whether they wanted to be or not.
LaRue, not the most eloquent of speakers, had been, by mob-mentality, selected as the leader of the mutineers. He lead them to the upper decks, tearing down the posters of the Lavalonian President as he went. Captain McMaky was standing behind his door, pistol drawn. The door crashed open, downward onto McMaky, but he lost no time and fired through the door. LaRue was dead and the mutineers reminded McMaky of this, though indirectly. As the throng kept pushing from behind, those in front who had seen this event were forced onto the door, crushing McMaky to death. Some of the mutineers split off, and while most Lavalonians were found cowering in the corner of their quarters, a handful were waiting for them, pistols drawn. Four Natopians, including LaRue, died as a result. One other Lavalonian was beaten to death for killing a crewman.
The Lavalonians were lead to the deck, forced on a life raft, and left adrift, hopefully to drift onto the shores of Palastina and be given a warm welcome, as they were still wearing their Natopian Navy uniforms.
Now, as the ship’s first mate, this left Lt. Cmd. Dewaer in an awkward position. Already he was on the bridge, wondering how this had all happened. Had he participated? He was still drunk on that Alexandrian Wine yesterday. Could he? No… he was asleep in his quarters. Right? No time to second guess yourself now, he chastised himself, take a hold of the situation. The radio officer informed him of an incoming message from the Mehlville, the other ship blockading Miska. Mehlville’s captain was requesting to speak with McMaky. Shit. What now? Improvise? ‘Oh sorry, he’s… uh… sick, bye!’ No, this is the Navy, we can make better excuses than that. “Captain Dewaer, the Mehlville’s captain sends his congratulations to you,” the radio officer finally said after, it seemed to Dewaer, ages. “For what? And… what? Captain? Are you OK?” Dewaer flustered. “Yes sir, it took you so long to respond I told the Mehlville everything that happened,” the radio officer said. “And… their captain is OK with this… questions?” “No sir.” “Damn… what kind of navy IS this?”