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Found 8 results

  1. This is my first foray into writing VB fiction. Though this Belle isn't in the game, I thought this would be an interesting tale to write about. This is loosely based on what happened to the real-life vessel, though it has a VB twist. Enjoy and please critique. Last Ride of the Wakeful Starring: HMS Wakeful (H88) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Wakeful_(H88) Wakeful looked at her watch and rubbed her weary eyes. As she breathed in the cool English air, she listened to her crew loading supplies onto her deck as she stared at the French coast. Her orders: rescue as many English soldiers as possible while fighting off the hordes of Morganas attempting to stop the evacuation. “Wakeful,” her captain – a younger man dressed in an unblemished uniform. “We’re ready to set off.” She, not that much of a talker, nodded silently as her crew powered her up and moved towards the French coast. ** As she sailed toward the fire and fury, Wakeful looked to her side and saw other ships – destroyers, an anti-aircraft cruiser, and some auxiliary vessels. She even saw Belles at the head of some vessels. The destroyer walked on her deck to gaze in the eyes of her sailors – young, scared, but determined to save their countrymen. The destroyer herself felt her age as she took every step. After all, she was built long-ago and was only mobilized from reserve status due to this emergency. However, the warship was determined to do her job and do it well. ** In a few hours, the coast of France before Wakeful and her sailors began to bring in tired, ragged soldiers onto her decks. “Ensure that they’re secured,” she informed her captain as evacuees clambered into every nook and cranny. “We’ll take on as many as we can.” As she began to set off, the destroyer saw bombers in the air heading for her. While they looked like those used by their enemies – the hated Lufwaffe, these planes looked more skeletal and spectral – almost wraith-like in the way they moved and sound. While the soldiers ducked and scrambled for cover, Wakeful and her soldiers fired whatever they got at the villains. “Splashed two!” a sailor proclaimed as two of the bombers crashed into the beach. Cheers went out, but they were soon subdued once another ship – the Belle-manned destroyer Havant – exploded in a blast of fire. Without looking, Wakeful cringed as she heard the screams of man and Belle mixed together with the blaze. “We’re leaving!” she cried out as the Wakeful quickly sped out of the area, leaving behind the carnage for a small while. ** It was night when the Wakeful and her precious cargo made it to the English coast. At the docks, aid workers moved quickly to get the troops and wounded off the destroyer. “Get ready to set out again,” she said as her crew nodded silently. However, one sailor – wide-eyed with panic and covered with smoke – stumbled to her with terror in his voice. “Are you mad?!” he cried out. “We should leave this to better ships!” Without thinking, the warship slapped the man, sending him to the ground. “If you can’t work, you have no place on my ship,” the destroyer said through clenched teeth. “Get him off my decks.” As the sailor was taken off, her captain attempted to confront Wakeful, but she brushed him aside. “Just get ready to leave,” she said. “We can’t afford to show weakness.” ** On the next trip, Wakeful didn’t go on her deck, instead staying in her private cabin. While she always prided herself on her stoicism, grit, and alertness in the face of danger, she suddenly felt nervous and sick to her stomach. Was it the fact that she saw a sister die? Was it the attack by the Morgana planes? Was it the terrified sailor who confronted her after the ordeal? While older than her colleagues, she had a great fear of the unknown, especially if she perished in this action. What would happen once it’s all over? Will she just vanish or is there a fate worse than that in store for her? “I can’t afford to lose face,” she muttered to herself as she got up and headed for the door, hearing the shots of gunfire as they neared the French coast again. “For the sake of me and my men.” ** Once again, Wakeful and her men went to work as they took in more soldiers. Due to better positioning by the resident anti-air cruiser Calcutta and the timely arrival of the Royal Air Force, the spectral planes that harassed their efforts were kept to a minimum. As she set off, the warship turned around and headed toward home. Wakeful was surprised that the Morganas didn't send more air units to overwhelm the defenses. “Maybe we were just lucky,” she told her captain as the men were getting comfortable with crumpets, jam, and tea. “Maybe we will survive another day.” ** Suddenly, the engines of a small vessel – one that Wakeful knew didn't belong to her or her colleagues – was heard as a dark fog began to overtake the destroyer. “Torpedo boat!” cried the lookout as secondary guns began to ring out. Wakeful turned around and looked at the new assailant. It was a ghostly-looking vessel, but was armed with two deadly torpedo launchers and various cannons. The torpedo boat’s cannons rang out, raking the destroyer with fire as debris flew around. She ducked as a bit of shrapnel passed over her. However, her men and the soldiers weren’t so lucky as rounds, metal, and wood ripped through the sailors. Even her captain took a piece of wood to the arm, though he was alive from the impact. ** After a few minutes, the vessel broke off its attack and took off for the fog as Wakeful fired her main guns, though she missed the target. “Is the bastard gone?” a cry came as groans were heard all around. The warship doubted it and her suspicions were right as she heard a torpedo being fired. “Hard to port!” she cried as her helmsman tried his best to avoid the deadly payload steaming toward them. As the torpedo whizzed by, the destroyer took a deep breath, but then was rocked by an explosion that threw some of her men in the sea and started a giant fire on her deck. Wakeful picked herself up and looked toward the sea as she saw the torpedo boat steaming toward her, having delivered one torpedo to its target. Now that the destroyer was disabled, it was on its way to finish the job. In a weary fit, the warship directed her main guns to fire again at the assailant, but it was to no avail as the remaining soldiers and the last of her sailors, the captain included, were gunned down around her. As the triumphant enemy moved alongside its stricken opponent to finish her off, tears began to fall from Wakeful’s face and she fell to her knees as her greatest fear was coming true. “I-I don’t want t-to go,” she sobbed as the cannons hit her ammunition storage, resulting in a big explosion that finished off the destroyer in a blazing ball of fire.
  2. It has been suggested and approved that as the number of writers on this forum grow, there should be a place to compile their works so nobody gets lost or left behind. Such a compilation would also be useful for quickly finding any story on the site. So, here you go, a collection of the stories so far written, and a short summary of each. Unfortunately I was only able to include stories, not song parodies and other writing snippets for conciseness and uniformity. If there are any stories that I have missed, or any new ones get written, please notify me via PM so that I may add them to the list. If any writers would like to update the description of their stories, they may also PM me with details. The Improbable Captain DrYuriMom A free spirited lady gets chosen as the captain of a belle while on a tiger cruise. Can she take the reigns and defend the innocent families of so many sailors from the Morganas? Iron Fish Fallschirmjager A U-boat manifests a belle as the war begins, with an enemy right off the bow! A Bittersweet Symphony - The Tale of Manchester and Captain Falshaw Wellington99 Old wounds reopen for a weary veteran of The Great War as he gets pulled into an unfamiliar battlefield on the high seas. Ruhm und Ehre - Eine Geschichte von einem Kapitän und ihrer Belle Nel Celestine A loyal Kriegsmarine captain learns to work together with a proud and uncouth belle. Gipsy Soul TwoHeavens A tale of two lost ships in an unlikely partnership. The Return of the Iron Dog Scootia The crew of an unfortunate British corvette finds themselves an unlikely new ship. Ninjapacman's One-Shots Ninjapacman A collection of short one-chapter stories. So far there is only one. Hopefully he'll get off his ass and write more. An Enterprising Captain Ninjapacman The veteran crew of a destroyer find themselves on an important mission in the South Pacific. Kriegsmarineministerium Käpt'n Korky An independent Kapitän is granted a second chance with a new purpose.
  3. Ruhm und Ehre . Eine Geschichte von einem Kapitän und ihrer Belle. (Glory and Honor. A story of a Captain and her Belle) ***** Author’s Notes ***** While trying to capture the feeling for this time piece I still feel the need to state a few things. First, I will not be using the actual statement made during salutes nor will I be directly mentioning the symbol on the flags. Also, because some people are dumb, I am not nor will I ever be a Nazi Sympathizer. The reason the story is from this side is because the Belles and Engineering interest me and I want to see what I can do to write from this point of view. This is clearly a work of fiction. *************************** Kapitel 1: Für Land und Ehre . (Chapter 1: For Country and Honor.) It was September 10th 1939 in the port of Hamburg. The weather was pleasant with a cool breeze blowing in from the water and the sun was just peeking out from behind the morning cloud cover when Captain Nel Celestine of the Kriegsmarine arose. Her pressed uniform was checked for sharpness. Each button polished to a shine. Her boots buffed and primed. Every inch of her uniform screamed perfection as she put it on. Making sure each fold, each crease each line was in perfect order before exiting her officer quarters and headed towards the dock. It was unusual for women to serve on the front lines, let alone hold rank, but Nel had distinguished herself and had impressed even Karl Dönitz. Seeing her potential, she was fast tracked within the Kriegsmarine and had even proudly met with the Führer once (albeit more in passing then in any detail). With such distinction she thought that she could be a proud face for members of the Kriegsmarine. Sadly, this was not to be the case. Most sailors were still the superstitious lot. To make matters worse, invasion of Poland had brought about war with the French and British. After already retaking the Rhineland and welcoming the Czechs back into the Reich the thought of all out war hung heavy in the air and was thick with tension. Then, there was the matter of the League of Nations, the Morganas, and these Belles as they called themselves. There was even one on the ship she had been assigned. Today's briefing was to discuss her assignment and dispatchment to the League and the Belle Scharnhorst whom had apparently chosen her. Passing through several layers of security clearance, she noted names and faces of every officer not in proper and well maintained uniform. She would have no backtalk over this. To have a poor uniform was poor discipline and was unacceptable within the glory of the Reich. Making at least two proper conducts to less than perfect officers she entered the final hallway and entered the briefing room. She gave a proper salute to her admiral before removing her hat and taking a seat. "Captain, as you are aware the Morgana threat is of the utmost importance if we are to obtain German superiority at sea. While other countries, including Britain, will be hampered by greatly by their threat to supply lines if they remain unchecked it could prove disastrous for us in the future.” Stepping over to a map of the Atlantic ocean with several pins making locations could be seen. “Here are several of the attacks that we are currently aware of. As you can see, the sheer number of sunk ships is intense, thorough, and complete. Survivor counts were near zero. That is until they showed up.” Nel spoke in question “The Belles sir?” The Admiral nodded and continued his explanation. “Shortly after ‘they’ arrived British and French naval forces had a drastic drop in casualties. This means these ‘Belles’ as they call themselves are key and important weapons. While part of this unofficial League task group, you will have three roles and you are to memorize these. No documents, no trails. Understood captain? If you can not handle this task the Führer will find someone who can.” Nel took no time to answer. She saluted sharp and proudly and proclaimed she would fulfill her duty to the fatherland. She had grown up with others idolizing the military and leadership. Her father had served during the Great War and she saw first hand how the defeat served to crush his spirit only to have it reborn anew under this new order. His passion was her inspiration and as her family’s sole child she felt it her duty to uphold military legacy of their home. Returning her salute, the admiral continued his briefing. “First, you are to represent German superiority within the League. With Belles supplied under German engineering you should be second to none. You must prove this to the world.” Pointing to the map he continued. “Second, you are to collect information on allied fleet movements, convoys and any other tactical information. Regardless of your roll in the League, your duty comes to your people before other nations.” Stepping across the room to stand before her, speaking quietly. “Third, you are to acquire the support of every Belle you can. Learn their thought processes, tactical weaknesses and so on. We can not allow the enemies of Germany to have any advantage. It is our right as the strongest people to have control over not only the best Belles, but all of them. Is that clear Captain?” Nel nodded and saluted sharply again. “Yes Sir!” The admiral nodded and returned her salute. “You leave at fourteen hundred hours tomorrow aboard the Scharnhorst. Your crew has been assigned and will await your inspection in the morning. I suggest you make use of your time Captain. The world is progressing forward and we are all about to be caught in history’s flow.”
  4. Chapter 2: http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=3248&p=43110 Chapter 3 http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=3248&p=55693 Chapter 4 http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?/topic/3248-the-improbable-captain-a-victory-belles-story/&do=findComment&comment=58705 The Improbable Captain Chapter One: Tiger Cruise To the east of Hawaii August 31, 1939, 7pm Hawaii Time (sunset) “There you are, Dory!” The familiar lilting voice came from behind me and sounded more than a little winded. Perhaps even a bit exasperated, although it was hard to tell through the heavy breathing. “I’d almost run out of open areas of the ship to look, you know. If this place hadn’t panned out, I was going to go hat in hand to Commander Simmons to have him sweep his Holy of Holies for you!” I swiveled my head to look back at the approaching brunette, a view which was quickly obscured by strands of strawberry blonde hair brushing my face in the wind as it crossed the bow of the USS Pensacola. I’d been avoiding the bow for just this reason…well that and the abominable weather, but the tailwind this evening was brisk enough that the effect of the wind on my long hair was tolerable as long as I faced forward. And the view was definitely worth the trouble. “I promised Simmons I wouldn’t sneak into engineering again without a babysitter, Ginny.” I turned to face forward again and let the wind clear my face as the comely younger woman came up alongside me to lean up against the rail. “It was a dumb thing for me to have done, anyway. I thought I told you that.” “Well, I was running out of options. I didn’t think you liked the bow with that ridiculously long hair of yours and your aversion to binding it down.” I just shrugged since I was guilty as charged. “The view is worth it. Isn’t that the most incredible sunset you’ve ever seen?” The orange sun looked to be just touching the ocean when a swell would bring the ship up and the brilliant orb would once again be riding high. Moments later we’d hit the trough and Apollo’s Chariot would vanish from view only to bob up again with the next swell like a child’s ball in a bathtub. I could imagine the two destroyers alongside us on each side, USS Cassin and USS Downes, were being treated to an even greater effect given how the smaller ships were rolling with the seas. During the rough weather the past few days I’d come to appreciate the benefits of boat size on the ocean. I wondered what being on a battleship must be like. My dear friend turned her green eyes to the horizon before us. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight?” she quoted an old saying about tomorrow’s weather. It certainly sounded hopeful. “We’ll see,” I allowed with skepticism. “The weather up to today has been atrocious, you know. I won’t hold my breath.” We paused our chat as the ship once again peaked and we were treated to yet another sunset. “Anyway, why have you been scouring the ship for me? Mildred have another bee in her bonnet that I have to exterminate with severe prejudice?” Ginny’s soprano sounded so sweet when she giggled. “Something like that. You know how bad Alice has had it ever since we left San Diego? Well it seems she’s gone dry. Poor little Eddy is bawling which is setting off all the other infants. The crew complained and…well…” “Mildred doesn’t want to be bothered by such trivialities as her duties as Captain’s wife on a tiger cruise so she ordered me to deal with it.” “Pretty much sums it up,” the smaller girl admitted with a sigh. “Dory, why do you let her push you around like this? She’s been doing it ever since we gathered together to board the ship. Yeah, she’s Captain Miller’s wife and all, but don’t you, like, outrank her or something?” It was my turn to chuckle. “You think so? Oh no. House member or no, I’m a Republican. From podunk California and a woman, no less. No Ginny, I avoid the War Department like the plague. If I showed any sign of trying to influence the Navy, both my career and Doug’s would be sunk.” I sighed as we both let a moment pass for the sun to finally dip below the waves – for good this time. “I knew when I ran for my father’s office that it would make Doug’s life harder, but he still gave me his blessing. When we decided for me to join you all for the move to Hawaii, I expected Mildred would take the chance to Lord it over me…see if she could bring me down. Her daddy’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, after all; a good Democrat who would love nothing better than to take me down several notches. Captain Miller isn’t too fond of Doug either, ship’s XO or no. This was a trap for us, but I intend to show them we’re not such easy prey.” “I guess being in politics and all isn’t as glamorous as it looks.” “It has its perks,” I defended with a wan smile. “But you always have to watch your back.” For some reason Ginny grinned, but I didn’t have to wait long for the reason to be apparent as she reached behind me and pinched my derrier through the pants I’d insisted on wearing during the cruise rather than have men peeking up my skirt as I climbed ladders; a feat I performed with great regularity when the weather permitted even if it irked old man Miller. “At least your backside is a might prettier to look at than most of those fat old men you work with in Washington.” I decided there was really no answer to that comment other than the blush I knew I must be showing from the heat I felt in my cheeks. Ginny was always outrageously flirtatious with me, in private of course. It brought back memories of college and…well never mind that. “Shall we go down and see what we can do for poor Alice and her little Eddy?” I asked into the awkward silence now between us. “He’s three month’s now, isn’t he? It will take some work, I suppose, but he should be weanable. Wanna help me whip up some mashed peas in the mess?” As the two of us turned to make our way below decks again, I noted something which would change all our lives forever. You must forgive me my naiveté at the time as it was the first sunset I’d ever viewed away from land. Isn’t the sunset supposed to be orange and then fade off? Why has it suddenly turned green? Is that a deep sea thing? /*/ I don’t know how to describe it, but the “feel” of the ship radically changed in just the half hour it took to attend to Alice and her little boy. Not only did the crew suddenly seem restless and men were scampering to and fro, calling out for us women to make way, but even the bulkheads of Pensacola herself seemed…anxious? Apprehensive? Excited? Eager? I couldn’t quite find the right word since the emotions often seemed to conflict with each other. And since when did cold steel feel alive? Just as we’d settled little Eddy down with some mashed peas in his tiny belly, an announcement came overhead. It was my husband’s voice. “All crew to your duty stations. Repeat, all crew to duty stations. Families, please remain in your berths until further notice.” A simple statement. To the point. Clearly not relevant to me. I hadn’t made it to the halls of government as a woman in this world by being well-behaved. Knowing Mildred wouldn’t lift a finger for her charges, I quickly did a circuit of the berths assigned to the families to ensure all was well…and that they knew to stay put. I placed Ginny in charge of ensuring everyone else behaved before turning to head topside to see what the fuss was about. As usual, sweet little Ginny managed to fire her own broadside at me before I could get away. She slipped an arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek before whispering in my ear, “Be careful, you hear?” She then swatted me on the rear to launch me forward on my way. Damn that impertinent girl! /*/ Green The world was green. And not the verdant green of the California redwoods I love so much. No, this was the green of illness. A putrid, corrupt miasma. It didn’t exactly smell, but it managed to fill the nostrils nonetheless…not to mention everything else. The air felt thick. Moving through it felt like running your hands in thirty weight, leaving you feeling oily in its wake. Even though all objective evidence suggested there really was no resistance. And above all, the atmosphere of dread covered everything. The only thing that didn’t feel like death was… Well, the ship herself. Every time I touched a bulkhead I felt… Anticipation? Tossing the strange and confusing feelings aside, I ran back to the aft tripod mainmast. I knew the conning tower would be abuzz with activity, but the rearmost tower was almost deserted except for a warrant officer and some crew ready to sight for the rear turrets. During the cruise I’d used all my extensive skills of persuasion to win over the warrant and petty officers. Doug had told me before we left that it was they who really ran the ship. He and the other officers were just there to look pretty (and yes, my husband is quite attractive in that uniform of his!). The crew was all quite smitten with me by now. A shame none of them lived in my district. It was clear that they were anxious as they watched me climb up to the maintop, but they kept their silence. It may have helped that I seemed to be the most positive person around, even managing to smile encouragingly to each man individually as I made my way higher. I wondered why that was the case, that I could feel so confident. But as long as my hands were grasping the ship I felt, despite mounting evidence to the contrary, that somehow everything would turn out alright. The view has changed so much since this afternoon. True, the sun had set and night was fast approaching, but that was the least of the changes. Green mist was all that could be seen in any direction. All three ships had struck most of their lights, but from Pensacola I could still visualize the superstructure of Cassin and Downes sailing close by to each side – likely as close as was deemed nautically safe. But even those few lights came to my eyes as that putrid green of the air around me. Beyond those lights was…nothing. No, not nothing. Something. Maybe 30 degrees to starboard, as Doug would say. Ahead and to the right of us, on the Downes side. “What the Hell is that…” I muttered, I thought just to myself. “Not Hell, Captain,” a young female voice sounded near my left ear. “Desolation. You best get to the bridge, Ma’am. She's coming.”
  5. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I write this as an attempt to capture, in narrative form, three things: 1. my ability to tolerate the noise of keys clacking as text is typed, which I once had and, if all go well, I shall have again. 2. To capture my impressions as a player about notable features of the game Academagia: The Making of Mages. 3. To experiment with the construction of a new narrative persona/voice that captures in some way the role that I feel that one of my characters has created in the game world. The following Caveats must follow: 1. I make no claim to any ownership of any part of Black Chicken Studio’s characters, settings, games, etc. 2. I regret that I lack the patience and time to write a week-by-week AAR style narrative. 3. Any and all feed back upon this narrative, for good and for evil, is much appreciated. I hope that I may play Y2 some year, and hope that this character can be involved in adventures! With these words having been written, I begin my story. Although it is said to be encrypted, this is merely a literary conceit. The Worried Student: 1 Kapsus, 1658: My Lord? my Father? I know not what you are to me now, I write this to you under considerable mental strain. Shadows tend to haunt me, I fear who and what we are, and I worry about dear friends’ friendships – all because of that instruction that you gave me at the beginning of last school year. Do not worry. I will explain to you all my fears in good time; but you can surely understand why this message I encrypted. Many hours in the library have taughten me the joys of cryptology; the key I sent separately. On to the matters. They are: your instructions; my instructors; matters at school; friends; what I hope to do next. Your Instructions: I followed your instructions, which led me to a bog-hut, and thence to a school that teaches Gates Magic. Finally I understand why you so disdained astrology. The skies above that school were not those of Cyve, so what use could star studying serve there? If I were bold, I would claim the following sentiment as my original thought: “The Heavens change, as do the ground upon which we stand, yet people endure.” But these words were chanted to me by a student who was so paranoid that no face could be seen beneath a robe and no outline made out. I have become, according to the judgment of the professors at this school, a competent, though not exceptional journeyman – my father’s worthy Son, and a continuer of the family’s legacy. It is a noble form of magic, which I am glad to be learning. Entire universes await us, and we are told not to seek them! It is strange that Elumia prohibits the summoning of other beings and the creation of new life forms even as it permits the summoning of bolts of fire and the negation of gravity. My study of other, legal pillars of magic have been much more fruitful in terms of competence. I am apparently accounted a prodigy in revision, and I am an exceptional journeyman in my negation magic. It was with considerable reluctance that I applied myself to the study of ambushes (my becoming a wolf-boy would not be unusual among my college Morvidus - which already boasts a snake-lover, a cat-girl, a fanatical vegetarian, and too many people who do not like roofs, or shoes, or bathing - but would be contrary to the social image that you and I seek for our family), but such skills have not corroded my humanity and have helped me with many school issues. My Instructors: You told me that when I made contact with an instructor who gives me true wisdom, I should follow that instructor as a slave if necessary in order to gain true wisdom. Such was not necessary this year. However, I made the following very interesting connections: Professor Sido: A brilliant teacher of philosophical matters, who loves to teach languages in his spare time. He has had many adventures, he claims, and is willing to tolerate philosophical arguments about why the ban on gates magic was wrong. He taught me some Bassan, which was very useful for me, as I will later tell. He really likes my writing, I think. Euneycia: She offered me much education in various aspects of gates, but after I had secured admission to the school, I took full advantage of it; Euneycia, however, taught me much about anatomy, and helped me expand my zoology. She also claimed to know you – our whole family – and was expecting my arrival. I will ask you more about her later. Pelia: A girl younger than I am, she is extremely skilled at revision – to her, turning apples into gold is trivial. I helped her get into Academagia, and she in return taught me some portion of her talent. She also seeks the outer limits of magic – seeking her father who vanished during a timetravel accident. It’s not fair that she gets to toy with the foundations of economy and time without facing death! She is also very skilled in brewing, yet she is so dedicated to her magics and continuing her father’s legacy, both inside and outside Academagia, that I doubt that she has given the smallest thought to making explosions. Were it not for her private tutoring of me (free, do not worry), she would be heralded as the prodigy in revision, and I would be regarded as skilled but not exceptionally so. Professor Badcrumble: An astrologer and Regent of Avila. She helped a person whom I will tell you about later, and she has really been trying to encourage us to take up astrology. I have finally been dabbling in it at the library. On Cyve, I want to try to have every advantage that I can have. Matters at School: I am not the only one secretly studying strange magics. A student in the upper years wanted to use norn-power to gain illegal and very dangerous mastery, but I defeated him in a duel. But everyone else seems corrupt also, so my friends and I reported him not but left him humiliated. I did not want to face detention or investigation after my heroic deed. The legate Orsi seems to be tolerating and trying to protect a criminal, Ilaro by name, who seems to use gates magic, if the rumours be accurate. In Morvidus’s garden I discovered a student trapped for decades in suspended animation by a professor who wanted to protect his academic reputation. I tried in general to avoid getting too involved in the school’s government or Mineta, because being caught as a gates mage would be easier that way. So I dealt with pirates serving a leader named the Asad the Lion in my successful attempt to help deal with Ilaro. I helped the pirates also with some legal matters, so it seems that I am preparing myself to operate on both criminal and litigation related aspects of life – useful for a practitioner of illegal magic! One of my house mates – Uliva – is rather strange. The rumour is that she dreams of snakes whispering to her in her dreams, and she loves snakes while awake enough to make such claims plausible. I tried to approach her about this, but she was not willing to trust me. Given my own secretive studies of certain types of magic, I sympathize with her. Sima, a strange girl from Hedi, is always trying to deal with artifacts – jewelry - that she claims that her family want her to make or handle for them, yet she lacks the talent or determination to do it by herself. So it seems that my family and I am not the only ones with magical secrets. I just wish that you had better prepared me for what was to happen in that house – even telling me that it was located in the bogs near Academagia would have been a great help. Finally, in a matter that you may appreciate more than I did, there is a civil war among the werewolves, and somebody is smuggling to them magical items – I and Professor Pachait of Zoology found ourselves caught in an assassination attempt against the one who is regarded by the Minetan authorities as their king. Nasty savage fools they are, but by the stars they were scary when fighting – and they tried to use their magic to turn the place pitch black. Only my skill with negation prevented that magic from happening successfully. Finally, there is some sort of smuggling group operating near the Academagia. It is called the Falcon Costers, or something like that. I only got involved with them briefly; their plans for smuggling something were in conflict with Morvidus’s plans for an end of the year picnic, so we had to assert our College’s rights. The picnic turned out to be very fun eventually. Now I turn my pen to the most horrifying incident during this past year. I wish some times that I had never learned any part of the Bassan language, but having learned parts of it, I used it in the following way. One of the professors had found a Bassan letter and ask for my help in translating it. If I had confined my role to that, there would be little to say – but I was curious towards the narrative of the letter, which spoke of a powerful artifact and sinister forces that had, decades ago, sought the artifact, and were apparently seeking it still. I undertook my own investigations in the Bassan quarter, and discovered a woman who told me how to reach the small island where the artifact was said to be hidden: I should go to the edge of Elumia, call out a phrase, and jump off, after which a bird-god would catch me and fly me to the island. Through my studies of Gates, I recognized this as a primitive gates spell, presumably simplified in order to avoid legal restrictions. I refused to submit in this way, but used my Gates training to summon the bird god to take me to the islet. The Islet had been trapped, though, so that my arrival – or that of any human – summoned the sinister forces who had been searching for the artifact. Perhaps they had been living humans just as I am, but they were not then. I fell into a panic. If I were to flee and tell the authorities at Academagia about my triggering of this trap, then they would probably use negation to see whether I had used any magic that might affect the trap; this would reveal my use of Gates. So I compounded my use to protect my use as a secret: I summoned some spirit that defeated the revenants with ease. After this, I instinctively investigated the artifact that had brought such sorrow to so many people. It was a book about Mastery! I did not dare to submit it to any person, lest they investigate and discover my use of Gates. Even destroying it was a bad idea – it might be trapped itself, and fragments might be traced to me. So I resolved to study Mastery, reasoning that it would be a terrible thing if I were to let my possession of this illegal artifact go to waste. I am now almost at the level of a journeyman in Mastery, and it is a sickening pillar – all about enslaving people. Yet I have heard that it can be used for good in curing the defective and educating the ignorant, so I have persevered. Friends: I have not made many friends this year. I suppose you would be glad about this – more friends mean more who might be informed about our study of gates and the school. But I have made three friends, of whom to you the third would be most interesting. Firstly, there is Girars, a fellow student of Morvidus and a vegetarian. He is very eager to make all people not eat meat, because of the deaths of animals, and he has helped me much to develop my knowledge of vegetarian recipes. He wanted me to join him in experiments to develop plant-based familiars, arguing that animals are abused too much. Mr. Pebbles fascinated him for this reason, and Mr. Pebbles liked him as best as it could, but I refused to get involved. Between Pelia, Euneycia, and the mastery volume, I already had too much to do in terms of secretive or poorly understood magics without plumbing the depths of the familiar bond. I think the familiar bond to be a type of mastery, myself, but say that only to you. But Girars is a friend, whom I helped in an attempt to free some animals who would have been slaughtered for their meat. Secondly, there is Oan, an upperclasswoman from Sae’on (the volcano city – but she does not like people to remind her of that). She was assigned to be my mentor as a freshman, and she tried to be instructing and not reducing me to a slave. This policy benefited both of us, for I helped her in her research to locate and gain benefit from tree spirits in the Imperial reserve. She has claimed that she is my friend for life for this – I would settle for a friend long enough to go to Sae’on, but…any ways, she is a friend. Thirdly, there is Prudence. Stars above, I would be cautious about that name of hers, since only a few months ago she had the reputation of insulting or brawling with all who called her that! But now we have gained glory as founders of a student society for people like her – not fighters, but lonely outcastes whom other popular groups will not accept. She came to me and suggested the forming of that group, and my heart was split by sorrow! Here was a girl who had some of the isolation and difference from others that I had. Plus, her rumoured belief that the suppression of gates was an unjust conspiracy made her attractive to me – a friend who would not be horrified at my being a gates mage! So I resolved to help her, even though we had to deal with rimbal players and poster vandalism issues. Once she brought Regent Badcrumble onto our side, however, the group, which she named the Belonging Brethren after some old Auncish poetry that she likes, was easily formed with only one brawl in which we both fought well. Now she tries more to follow Regent Badcrumble’s ideas about the role of women as it is versus how it should be – quite interesting stuff, I think – and no longer minds being called Prudence – it forms nice Auncish verse, she tells me, with good terms, such as pugnacious or powerful. So I regard her as a very dear friend, and hope that we can visit over the summer. It is true that we are different in academic inclinations – she failed grammar, arithmetic and dialectic – but we are equals in negation, and she is very creative in her rhetoric – the Iambic and choliambic forms come swiftly to her, and make her a source of wit to those whom she is friendly with. Being honest, I suspect that she has some secrets of her own. She is enrolled in a very strange selection of elective courses for her temperament – grammar and arithmetic, and I am frequently amazed that she did not study Athletics given her physical fitness and love of physical activity. She likes singing also, yet enrolled not in music. Yet she will not explain her course selection, beyond saying that it is personal. If she were to develop more satisfaction and discipline, she could be a better mage – the rumour is that she has much skill in incantation, but does not study incantation. Yet she is studying much that she enjoys little and is so often suppressing her joy. I am glad that I and the Belonging Brethren are helping her to find happiness, confidence, and responsibility. What I want to Do: I want answers from you and the family. What are we? What is our relationship to the secret school and gates magic? Can I tell Prudence about any of this? Would our nature prevent me from having friends over? How dangerous is Gates? I also want to train incantation magic at the Contu school. I have the money now (and the school would accept me), and gaining training in this pillar would help my school life – incantation is very combat oriented, and I lacked it when it would have been useful last year. It might give me another subject to talk to Prudence about. Any idea what the advanced incantation is? Brewing: Pelia has given me the basics, but those basics are fascinating – so I would like to enroll in the brewing course next year. Forging: I have much skill at the forge, and would like to research possible ways to make armour that would protect against mastery magic. Mastery: I hope that my further researches into Mastery can better reveal how it can be defended against and how it can be used to cure minds. Including mine and possibly Prudence’s. Archery: It would make a nice relaxing hobby to excel in. Prudence: would you know of any magical cults in Auncausy to which one Prudence Cossins’s family might be joined? It is a wild thought by me that I do not believe (I blame merchants of the sort that the Auncish produce like flies who want a proper daughter), but as a family bonding activity, investigating a new friend is a good activity. Gates Magic: Rumour at the school is that Gates has three specializations: I want the demon-summoning one. Life creation is better suited for some of the freaks in my college, and teleportation is redundant – there are other ways to travel, and teleportation seems limited aside from that. Finally, I am really frightened by the summoning ritual that I participated in at the school. I keep thinking about the creature, and its words of alleged wisdom and their genuine effect upon me, and shadows now alarm me more. But this is all the more reason for me to better understand the multiverse and the effects of summonings. If a bad person, such as that upperclassman, try to summon beings for bad purposes, I want to be a good summoner who can deal with it. I hope that this letter finds you well, and hope that your reply in person will resolve many of my worries and questions. Your son (and vassel?) Siming Shi AUTHOR'S Note: I may apply this same premise to other character run throughs, if you like this one enough.
  6. Chapter 1 - Stand Before the Storm November 25 1940 14:05, log of VADM L. E. Holland - Operation Collar's convoy rounding Gibraltar carrying 1370 RAF technicians, HMS Manchester and Southampton escorting the merchant ships SS New Zealand Star, SS Clan Forbes and SS Clan Fraser with Force F. Fair weather and fair seas, and no fighting God willing. No movement reported by Force H's scouts. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This wasn't what I had in mind when I think about going on a Mediterranean cruise, John Falshaw mused as yet another man gave up his lunch to the ocean. The Yorkshireman shook his head at the sight and turned his gaze over to the ocean. As much grief he gave those RAF blokes, he too was feeling a bit queasy as HMS Manchester gently rolled along the waves, and anything to take his mind off of it was welcomed. It was hard to believe that he, a former sniper in the Duke of Wellingtons Regiment during the Great War, was now lumped in with these pseudo-fly boys en route to Malta and Alexandria to tune up Hurricanes and Spitfires. Then again, they didn't really have much that an old war dog such as himself could do. His left knee began to ache as he started to move himself from the side railing and along the side of the warship, reminding him of the Jerry bastard that got him at Passchendaele. It was a different time back then, and remembering it brought forth a heavy sigh. He had been another one of those bright eyed youngsters who at 16 lied about his age to go off to war almost as soon as it had been declared. It didn't take long for the romantic visage to become replaced with the horror that was reality. The first battle he had ever been in had taken four of his best mates in a single artillery shell, and his second resulted in another two choking to death on poison gas. His older brother (by three years) got tangled up in barbed wire at the Somme, an easy target for the German machine guns that cut him to bloody shreds, and his youngest (by only a year) impaled by another's bayonet while he was recovering in hospital. By war's end he had seen every conceivable way a man could die on the battlefield, and he was none too excited for another Great War. Which was why, in an ironic twist, he was now once again in the military in a new world war, only this time he hedged his bets to make sure he would never serve on the front lines again. Getting work during the Depression was hard, but he managed to do well in a machinists job, well enough that when he applied to become a Royal Air Force technician they took him on the spot. Granted it was probably out of necessity than anything. He had little experience with the planes before he and the nearly 1400 others were stowed on board HMS Manchester and Southampton, so he had been trying to read up on manuals on the voyage, something that he ended up tossing aside. He was the type to learn as he worked, rather than to be straight taught what to do, and the manuals only served to alleviate boredom. Stopping for a moment for a quick smoke, John looked across the water to HMS Southampton, and noted the figure standing on the foredeck with mild amusement. It was unusual to have a woman on board a vessel unless they were being transported someplace, but this girl wasnt a normal woman. She was, as they called themselves, a Belle, a physical manifestation of a warship that protects the world from the Morganas, a group of seemingly demonic forces that want nothing more than to wipe out humanity. The Belles choose their captains with no discernible criteria, no matter what they are or where theyre from. There was even tale of a female American Belle captain, and of a German Belle going off with a Russian. Fortunately, Southampton's Belle stayed to her mother country so there was no fear of some foreigner getting their hands on one of His Majesty's ships. The captain was also a rather unsurprising pick, a Lieutenant who was on board for a training exercise when the Morgana fog rolled in. From this distance, John was only able to make out Southamptons white sun hat, though he was sure the daintily appearing Belle was enjoying herself in the sun. Funny how she would probably be better suited as the Belle for HMS Brighton, but that ship hadn't manifested a Belle yet, and she at least was a good enough representative of Southampton itself. Just as he finished his cigarette, tossing the butt into the sea, he looked up only to see Southampton's Belle rigid and staring to the east. Something caught her attention, something that snapped her from her usual cheery disposition, and that wasn't easy to do. Following where she was looking, he found himself gazing at a fog bank. It wasn't close by any stretch of the imagination, but from what the sailors told them, when there's fog, there's almost certainly a Morgana. It didn't take long for the ships to turn towards the south to try and avoid contact. With all these extra bodies on board, the two Town-class cruisers weren't at peak combat efficiency; the best tactic was to avoid conflict as much as possible. It was left to Force H to deal with any such threats. Heading back inside the warship, John took one last look towards the fog bank and thought he could see lightning coming from inside. Morgana or not, a storm wouldn't do well for Force F, and with any luck they would avoid it. Hoping for the best case scenario, he went down into HMS Manchester and to his bunk to see about trying to understand those damned manuals. Nearly an hour passed before the ship lurched, nearly tossing Falshaw out of his bunk in the process. "What the-" he grumbled as he tossed aside the manual he had been reading (rather using as a cover over his eyes so he could take a nap). He groaned as his knee shot with pain, getting down with a short leap. Those bloody sailors are trying to kill me, I just know it. Several other technicians were wondering what was going on, some trying to look out of port holes and others like John scrambling to the deck. As soon as he had made it back on to the foredeck, the fog bank had now nearly closed the distance. From what he could tell, it was well out of sniping distance but for ships it was right in the sweet spot. Again he saw lightning coming from within, except this time he could hear thunder, followed by a whistling sound. The water next to him erupted into a column, making him jump. It was a warship alright in there, a small fleet of Morganas. The thing was though, only a scant few shells landed around them, and they seemed to be deliberately aimed so they wouldn't hit. Most shots were being fired at targets within the fog, and it was unclear who. Another British convoy? A supply train? A group of Belles from Force H out of position? Things were slowly clicking into place for the former sergeant as the warships steamed towards the thunderous fog. The lurching was probably Manchester turning to avoid a shell and towards the fog, and the shells missing around them were probably to get the attention of the British force. At this point running away wasn't an option, so the two cruisers along with the rest of Force F were forced into combat. He just hoped that whatever happened, he'd stick to his plan of being as far from the front line if possible. Maybe the Morganas would be sunk before they arrived on the scene. In any case, he wasnt going to stick around on deck waiting to be shot at. He was going to head back down and wait this skirmish ou- "Oh no you dont!" A hand suddenly grabbed the back of his RAF jacket and began to yank him out. "You need to get onto the bridge, mate." John was spun around, and was looking right into a young womans face. "We need you, Captain." Oh, you've got to be kidding me =========================================================================================================================================== Well here is my foray into Victory Belles fanfiction courtesy of YuriMom. The next chapter will have more dialogue as this was more for setting the scene and getting the ball rolling. Let me know what you think. I decided to end there because it was a decent enough spot to do so, otherwise I would have carried on for longer (chapter 2)
  7. We all know sooner or later someone was going to make a Victory Belle's fanfiction so I decided to make a thread for people to post their fanfic ideas and fanfiction. This thread was made so when fanfictions of Victory Belles were made they would have a place to be posted at. Now for my Ideas, The life of a Admiral leading his ships The state of the world before and during the Morgana threat The formation of the Anti-Morgana International Task Force AMITF Random One Shots detailing events in the world Whelp I'm out of ideas. Edit: Because I saw DrYuriMom story thread I'm now adding an Index The Improbable Captain by DrYuriMom http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=3248 A Bittersweet Symphony - The Tale of Manchester and Captain Falshaw by Wellington99 http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=3252 Iron Fish by Fallschirmjager http://academagia.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=3253
  8. Iron Fish Ch. 1 September 1st 1939 Western Approaches, Atlantic Ocean Sitting on the surface of the choppy sea U-48 was recharging her batteries, getting fresh air and receiving the usual communications from the Fatherland. Kapitanleutant Herbert Schultze and Leutnant Erich Lange were standing in the conning tower scanning the horizon. War rumors have been going on for months and the crew have been eagerly waiting to show the Brits they weren’t safe even close to home. “Awfully gloomy weather today.” Noted Erich at the clouds in the sky and the fog above the water. “Ja, and look at the fog’s color, it’s even green.” Replied Herbert in slight confusion. “Maybe the mist is a little seasick eh Kapitan?” Joked Erich nudging the sub commander. Before Herbert could reply the communications officer climbed up the ladder with a note, “Message sir.” Herbert read it then shoved it into his pocket, “The balloon has gone up.” “Orders Kapitan?” Erich already knew but asked anyway. Herbert shrugged, “Sink all ships flying the flag of England, France and Poland.” They observed the horizon more intently than earlier for ships until the mist enveloped them. “This stuff feels a little heavy.” Remarked Erich at the mist surrounding them then noticed a silhouette in the distance as it topped a wave. “I see a ship!” Herbert looked through his somewhat fogged binoculars, “I think it’s a cruiser!” Erich started to get even more excited, “Only ones out here with cruisers would be Brits!” “Don’t be so sure mein Kapitan.” Came a female voice. “Who’s there?” questioned Erich as he reflexively rested his right hand on his sidearm. “On the bow.” Said the voice. The two Germans looked to find a woman with long blond hair standing on the bow of the U-Boat facing the cruiser-shape before she started for the conning tower. “Get below, I’m diving.” Herbert and Erich were confused by the “I’m” but did as she said. Once they were below the woman followed with the hatch closing behind her. Up close they got a better look at her, she wore a plastic hairband to keep her flowing blond hair from blocking her icy blue eyes. She wore the olive green Kriegsmarine submariner’s uniform with the sleeves rolled up and no insignia except the German eagle. U-48 dived to periscope depth as they were giving her the once over. The crew were standing around perplexed. “Kapitan, the boat just went down by itself.” Herbert had an idea why, “Care to explain yourself Fraulein…” “Names U-48. Now Kapitan what are your orders?” She directed the question at Erich. “He is the Kapitan of the boat, not me.” Answered Erich to the strange woman. “Not anymore, I choose you as my Kapitan. Now are we to attack or evade?” “What are we attacking anyway?” Herbert asked miffed at being marginalized. “The Morgana, Bewilderment to be specific. They belong to no nation and attack anyone not their own.” “Achtung! I hear screws!” Said the sonar man holding his phones to his ears. “Scheisse, she detected us fast. We have to evade.” Said U-48 as she made the boat dive deeper to get away from what was sure to come. The sonar man heard more noise, “Splashes!” First it was dull thuds above and behind them but they steadily got closer. Then the whole sub started shaking from the concussions of near bursting depth charges. The crew hung onto anything to steady themselves. Erich looked at U-48 and noticed several bruises appeared on her arms and neck. One burst so close the lights briefly went out and made everyone’s teeth rattle with some crew flopping to the deck. Herbert saw a spot of crimson form on U-48’s left temple that matted some of her blond hair and trickled down her face. He reached up to check her but she waved him off grimacing at the near hits. This went on for five more minutes though it felt like hours until it seemed Bewilderment lost interest in the chase or ran out of depth charges. Herbert went to check for injuries among the crew and for any serious damage. Erich checked U-48, “You all right? You got banged up pretty good.” “It was close but I’ll make it, just need some quick repairs and I can get back to it.” She replied as she put a hand to the gash on her head that stopped bleeding. “So who exactly are you?” Erich asked her as he offered her a wet rag that wasn't too oily. She accepted it and began wiping off the blood on her face. “I’m the manifestation of U-48, a Belle. We appear to fight the Morganas like the one you saw and that dropped ashcans on us.” “You think we need to steam back to Kiel or can we keep patrolling?” said Erich. “I want to see Bewilderment on the bottom.” U-48 simply said when she handed the now light red rag back. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As you guys can tell I'm no professional author so don't flame me too much. This will be the first fanfic I've written in years and I don't know if I'll post regularly due to work but if there's interest I might write more. Author note: I based U-48's appearance off Irisdina Bernhard from Schwarzesmarken.