Down the Rabbit Hole - A Kancolle RP (IC)

by **The Selkie** » Fri Nov 01, 2019 2:54 am

Jebslund wrote:Herde, the baths
One shipgirl *had* noticed the Lutetiians enter the actual bath, largely because she was entering the bath at the same time. And full of chirpy energy. And food. But mostly energy. Because she was just that way. So far, Kerriott had chased her out of the cafe when she held Mary Read Kerman at her table for nearly an hour chatting with her, most of that after open, with story after story after story after story after story and all the small talk that was never really enough for her. She'd gone to find Wespennest, but was promptly told by the carrier that she didn't have time, which really sucked because there was much to talk about, since there were many things about the new base to ask about and she didn't know the secretary ship but maybe Wespennest did and also Wespennest's sister was there which meant there were other Jebslunden kanmusu and that meant personnel Wespennest maybe served with and knew and of course there were those two light cruisers that were there and supposedly maybe they'd been rescued once but maybe not because that was a rumor, but that could all wait, because there were baths, so Herde figured maybe there'd be people in the baths, yes?

"Oh, hey, aren't you the ships from last night? The three that were heading into base when we split off from our convoy?", she asked, "You're Passero, right? I think you're Passero? Passero sounds like a carrier name, I think, and you're a carrier! And I'm a carrier, but I'm Herde! I'm new here, but that's okay, because you're new here, too, and we can be new together and go on missions and kick Abyssal butt.", the escort carrier rambled, hardly even pausing for breath as she addressed the carrier with what could charitably be described as a stream of consciousness style rant passing for a conversation, "So anyway, how are you today?", she continued, only stopping when she sank into the water and let out a sigh of contentment. Her legs were still a little sore from yesterday's travels, and she was glad to have the warm water washing away the fatigue because she suspected she'd be going out again today since she heard Hornissennest and Wespennest talking and it sounded like the base was sending ships out somewhere and Herde had heard that Hornissennest was going to try to get her, Mord, and Wespennest put on that mission and it might not happen but to be prepared for it to happen.

NFR Passero. Baths.
I smiled as the little girl with the enthusiastic expression came and chatted us up. Pelle and Cotechino were by my sides.
The newcomer, introducing herself as Herde, looked as if she was a bit sore, which was understandable. We were a bit sore, too, after the entire relocation cruise. However, I had the feeling, that we had a more relaxed relocation cruise...
"It's a pleasure, Herde.", I said after she had finished her little rant, "I am indeed Passero, fourth of the Astore-class Light Carriers. Those..." I motioned to my two destroyers. "...are Cotechino and Pelle, of the Fieno-class Destroyers."
"Charmed.", Pelle said.

SDFS Faoileán. Admiralty.
About time I arrived here!
I was on Admiralty Duty again today, today with an important operation going on. Scratch that: An Important Operation.
After the... mishaps, failures and losses of yesterday, I hoped for a quick and easy victory. Morale on base could need that, most definately!
I wish I could have come along, but I was a seaplane carrier. I knew, that I would only be of limited use. My fighters might be of more use, but I...? No.
I could be of use here. And if stuff hit the fan, I could always rush out.
I had seen a few people making their ways to the Admiralty before me, even to the same place I needed to go, but introductions could wait. First, I needed to report, that I was here and ready.
I poked my head into Glory's Office, which was empty - right, it was about time for the briefing!
Briefing room, then. I knocked and poked my head in: "Morning, Glory!", I greeted, "I'm on station, will make tea. Do you want a pot for you guys, too?"
A bit informal, yes, but I was her paper pusher for today, no sense in trying to be stuffy. Besides, I would report formally when I had the reports at hand.

SDFS Búraló Liath. Docks.
I am not an early riser.
Whoever created that cliche of wolves being early risers belongs in front of a firing squad or hanged for spreading misinformation... when I was up and ready for the day, not going to the baths, but showering, I remembered, that we had a deployment coming up.
I was part of the Special Detachment Force's Escort Element. I could escort.
It was not my speciality, but I could.
But any warrior was only as good as his weapons were in working order and every wolf was only hungry if his teeth were blunt. I neither liked being hungry nor did I like non-working weapons, so I was here and checked over my rigging.
Grey Wolf class Torpedo Boats like me carried two of the ubiquitous G-91 135mm guns, Mark II. I could fire all sorts of fun things from them, including incendiary ammunition, armour piercing ammunition and VT-shells. Five 40mm AA-guns would prove invaluable for air defense. Eight torpedo tubes, two packs of four, my main weapons, completed my weapons suite.
Was I nervous? A bit.
I was used to combat, but I usually had at least two or three of my sisters with me, was not an escort vessel, but supposed to attack. Escorting was the job of the Miodóg-class Sloops.
I would manage, though. The Grey Wolf was a born protector.
And I was SDF-Navy. We always managed.

by **Arrstotzka** » Thu Nov 21, 2019 7:15 pm

Prospekt

Food! Precious food! At last he could have it. Behind the other side of the counter was a destroyer with short-cut hair so white it reminded him of the beautiful snowy caps of the Arrstotzkan coast with which he was so familiar. Appearing to be relatively short herself, Prospekt was quick notice a multitude of charming gold earrings perched within her left ear. This must have been the kanmusu who would help him get his meal!

Thoroughly observing what must have been a laminated menu, the battleship saw all sorts of luscious-looking foods. Most everything on the pamphlet he was familiar with: eggs and bacon, salad, sandwiches; hell, there was even steak! But finally he came across something more... foreign. His eyes had pinned down a picture of a seemingly circular patty of grilled meat cushioned in between two fittingly similar circular pieces of bread. Between the bread and beef, there appeared many assorted toppings, such as lettuce and tomatoes. Next to this peculiar creation was a tiny pile of golden little sticks.

The more he looked at it, the more appealing it appeared. Likely due to a form of language barrier, Prospekt found himself unable to pronounce the name of this dish. Leaning towards Polar for help, he pointed to it and asked how to properly enunciate the name. After a few tries he was able to get it good enough. "Hamburger, it's called?"

He had never seen this "Hamburger," but Prospekt always liked trying new things, so he repeated the name to the destroyer who took down his order. Soon enough, he received it on a metal tray. The picture had come to life!

Looking back at the two with whom he had arrived, he realized that the situation was becoming stranger with every passing moment. The tiny sub looked to be squeezing Polar with every ounce of energy in her body, but the medic only glared across the room, which culminated in the split-second drawing of her own gun.

Something was off. Something was very very off, and the battleship, finally being able to pull his mind off his own food, decided that he was going to try and find out for himself just what it was. Prospekt decided he would make it a goal of his own to try and get some information out of the medic. After all, she seemed to be the only one there with whom he had come remotely close to socializing with.

by **Jebslund** » Mon Jan 06, 2020 9:22 pm

Herde, the baths
As she listened, Herde was already forming questions in her head, because of course there were questions when you talked with people because that's how it worked, right? "Well met, Passero and Cotechino and Pelle! Was it a long trip for you? It was a long trip for me, and it was supposed to be longer, but the base needed reinforcements, so Wespennest and Mord and Vier Jahreszeiten and I got sent to reinforce the base because that's the thing to do when someone needs reinforcements! You're Lutetiian, right? What's it like there? How big is Lutetii? Are there a lot of people? Is there spring there? I like spring! It's my favorite season! Are you guys going on the mission today? There's a mission today! They're gonna send some ships out to find the Abyssals and beat them all up hopefully but mostly find their base because they've been hitting our convoys and we need them to stop doing that so we need to find them so we can wreck their base and make them into one-way submarines!", she responded, "Have you met anyone else on base yet? I haven't met too many people on base! I wanted to go to the cafe, but Kerriott said I was disruptive... I don't think I'm disruptive! Mary Read Kerman was enjoying that conversation just as much as I was! Sure, we talked for a long time, but Turmfalke was there, too, so it's not like there wasn't anyone to help take orders, right?", she continued before pausing for breath. Talking was really fun! Especially talking with other new people, because they were new, like her, so that meant it was fun and they could relate! That's how it worked, right? It must be, because Pelle was charmed, and charmed was good, and Pelle was pretty, but that wasn't really the point, but it was true, and Cotechino and Passero were pretty, too!

Arrstotzka wrote:Prospekt

Food! Precious food! At last he could have it. Behind the other side of the counter was a destroyer with short-cut hair so white it reminded him of the beautiful snowy caps of the Arrstotzkan coast with which he was so familiar. Appearing to be relatively short herself, Prospekt was quick notice a multitude of charming gold earrings perched within her left ear. This must have been the kanmusu who would help him get his meal!

Thoroughly observing what must have been a laminated menu, the battleship saw all sorts of luscious-looking foods. Most everything on the pamphlet he was familiar with: eggs and bacon, salad, sandwiches; hell, there was even steak! But finally he came across something more... foreign. His eyes had pinned down a picture of a seemingly circular patty of grilled meat cushioned in between two fittingly similar circular pieces of bread. Between the bread and beef, there appeared many assorted toppings, such as lettuce and tomatoes. Next to this peculiar creation was a tiny pile of golden little sticks.

The more he looked at it, the more appealing it appeared. Likely due to a form of language barrier, Prospekt found himself unable to pronounce the name of this dish. Leaning towards Polar for help, he pointed to it and asked how to properly enunciate the name. After a few tries he was able to get it good enough. "Hamburger, it's called?"

He had never seen this "Hamburger," but Prospekt always liked trying new things, so he repeated the name to the destroyer who took down his order. Soon enough, he received it on a metal tray. The picture had come to life!

Looking back at the two with whom he had arrived, he realized that the situation was becoming stranger with every passing moment. The tiny sub looked to be squeezing Polar with every ounce of energy in her body, but the medic only glared across the room, which culminated in the split-second drawing of her own gun.

Something was off. Something was very very off, and the battleship, finally being able to pull his mind off his own food, decided that he was going to try and find out for himself just what it was. Prospekt decided he would make it a goal of his own to try and get some information out of the medic. After all, she seemed to be the only one there with whom he had come remotely close to socializing with.

Mord, cafe
As she went back to her recently-arrived food, Mord could feel Kerriott glaring at her. Kerriott class tenders tended to have very palpable disapproval, such that one knew when one had drawn the ire of a Kerriott, and Mord didn't have to look up to know what Kerriott wanted her to understand: There would be no violence in her cafe. As Mord ate, she could feel the glare intensify, forcing her to look up and nod to acknowledge that she'd understood the message in order to be released from that awful gaze. The jeep carrier doubled the pace of her eating, now even more eager to find somewhere to be that wasn't here.

Mary Read Kerman, also cafe
Not long after Polar had signaled to her, Mary Read Kerman headed over to her table, ready to take the orders of the three there. The medic, she already knew. The battleship was an unfamiliar sight, though she had heard that a battleship had been injured on the way over, and it wasn't a stretch to assume that this was he, given his missing eye. An uncomfortable reminder that the kanmusu were shorthanded and not in an advantageous position. The Abyssal, however... That filled her with dread that she did her best to hide. Abyssals this close usually meant a knife fight, and Mary Read Kerman didn't have the taste for toe-to-toe fighting that larger shipgirls did. She preferred to rain destruction down from above, or to keep moving while firing torpedoes from a somewhat safer distance. None of this stopped her from asking, "Hello! What can I get for you today?" in a cheery tone that, to her pride, only had a tiny hint of fear in it. Irrational fear, to be sure, given that this was a prisoner, but fear all the same.

Glory
The pains of command

Glory was nearly taken aback by the sudden attack, but after having been on the receiving end of Turm, Hornet, the Sterks and god knew whoever else's fury the previous day, this was nothing. "Thats up to the enemy, youre conducting a recon in force. I dont expect a large fleet action but you should be prepared in case one kicks off. Fleet coordination will be left to the commander in the field, which will be Hornestnest." She placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder, "Thanks for the offer, if theres anything I need Ill be sure to keep you in mind." She said it politely but firmly, attempting to imply that her subordinate should drop the matter while they were in the current situation.

Just when she thought she'd have to be rude to get Mordred to settle down, Hornet arrived with her new friend, Wasp. Lively names these Jeb ships had. Glory chuckled to herself, hopefully Wasp was a bit more subdued in her execution of daily tasks. That would be a nice change, for sure. Glory quickly came to the conclusion of just why Wasp had been dragged along. Hornet probably wanted the extra ships added to her fleet. It was reasonable, it was sound, but it might not yield the benefits either ship wanted. A larger force would of course be more secure against attack, but it would also be detected much sooner, and they might be turned back before they achieved their goal of finding the enemy's true location.

Then again, they might be wiped out if they dont have the full compliment of ships they needed. A tough choice. One that fell upon Glory, as they often did. She decided, if Hornet asked outright, she'd grant the request, and if she didnt Glory would have the four extra jeb ships act as a reserve, trailing behind the main fleet instead of in company with it. The point of this patrol was intelligence, not damage, and that was a point the battle cruiser was going to have to beat into Hornet's head, although she wouldnt do it where their subordinates could see. "Good morning, Hornetsnest, Speak of the devil and she shall appear." She returned their salute idly, "Not everyone is here yet but if youve any questions before we get started feel free to fire them," She gestured back to the large, centrally located map with Severance Package still doting over the details, "I know you probably have a few in there."

And of course, because the Universe worked like that, something else came up. Someone was bowing in front of her, an introduction it seemed. The secretary could only stand there awkwardly until they finished, "Uh, its good to have you, Serica, have a look at the sleeping roster and find yourself whichever room youre quartered in. It should be posted outside the cafe on the bulletin board." She had no sooner finished speaking when yet another lost soul tumbled into her lonely domain. At least this one was normal and just saluted, those she knew how to return. Which she did, somewhat gratefully, "Welcome to our slice of the war Malinokov, like I just finished telling Serica here, you should probably find your room and get settled, theres plenty to do around here so we'll find you some work if you arent careful."[/quote]

Hornissennest, briefing room

"A few, yes.", Hornissennest stated in response to Glory's assertion that she had some questions, "The first being a request to bring Wespennest, Herde, and Mord along on the mission today. Our air complement could use some supplementation.". She was well aware that it could result in the fleet being intercepted sooner, but more aircraft meant a stronger CAP and more units to spare for recon and, when needed, combat. Aircraft, particularly Hornissennest's during the day and Mord's and Herde's during the night, could avoid detection better than ships, as well as move faster than ships. Additionally, they could cover more ground by sending multiple small teams. Assuming she got her wish, Hornissennest planned to have her own aircraft scout the area, while Ven's aircraft provided their CAP, Wespennest's aircraft provided their strike force, and Herde's and Mord's remained available to either scout, strike, or defend as needed, giving Hornissennest four full carrier's worth of aircraft to assign to tasks, meaning no one task need be undermanned. "I would also like to know if there has been any additional intel gathered since yesterday, as well as what we know of the expected enemy strength.". That would do, for the moment, though that didn't mean there wouldn't be more questions after those were answered.

by **Fantrum** » Mon Feb 17, 2020 6:31 am

The Fabled and Long rumored Time Skip is here

The time has now moved up to the point shortly before contact with the enemy. The fleet has sortied and taken most if not all the shipgirls with it, to be placed under the command of Hornetsnest. It is very late in the day however there still exists a few hours of sunlight to exploit.

Glory

An understatement would be to simply say the Secretary was on pins and needles. She always was, but when ships were on mission she was more so, much more so. She'd sent her girls and boys out into that great unknown, at at the behest of Hornet had added ships to the roster. Just about every battle capable ship was going, even the new guy who'd gotten his eye blown out, something Polar was giving her no end of shit for. Still, she had no reason to think there might be an attack on her base while they were gone, and she still had a capable patrol fleet out, even if the expedition hadnt come back yet. That in and of itself wasnt unusual, they took a while after all, but theyd lost contact shortly after the Novoyans had reported strange contacts on radar.

Being truthful, the secretary was tempted to divert Hornet to investigate. But this took priority and they werent overdue yet. Theyd be fine. Besides, Hornet was sailing right into the teeth of the enemy. Sure it was to recon the place and maybe rustle some feathers, but they were sure to respond... violently. As Abyssals always did. With all hands on deck like this, there was a lot at stake, and sitting in the comms room with the days Talker, SDFS Faoileán, she wasnt handling the stress well. The wait was absolutely killing her. The battlecruiser longed to be on the frontlines with her girls, to fire and be fired at. Simply ordering others to do it felt... cowardly. Being in overall command would never be easy for the poor secretary, but she was simply going to have to deal with it. "Whats the word?" Glory asked again, knowing full well the answer would be the same as it was ten minutes ago. In all likelihood she was hampering Poor Fao's ability to transmit and interpret incoming data, but when she wasnt standing over him she was practically pacing a trench into the little room. The fleet would still be enroute, but drawing very close to the enemy base, or at least where it was suspected of being. "Ugh, sorry Fao, I dont mean to be insistent, just impatient for news."

Kreech River

Never one to miss combat, Kreech was happy to finally have the chance to get out into the action again. Sure there were the nervous willies, but who didnt get a bit excited before an operation? No one thats who! A lot rode on this, even if the lowly heavy cruiser was relegated to escort duty. It meant a great deal to her that she'd be able to show her worth even in something she wasnt designed to do. Regardless of what her batteries were meant for, the fairies manning her still considerable array of five inch secondaries and forty millimeter guns were confident they had what it took to keep her safe. They were overzealous little buggers, but well meaning. The battlegroup had been steaming for a while, and with the sun starting to get dangerously low on the horizon, there was some cause for concern. What kind of recon could they do if the base was concealed with darkness?

Even with the potential danger, they had a few hours of good sunlight until it got bad. Absentmindedly fiddling with her main triple eight inch gun mount, Kreech went through another round of checks with her fairies. Main battery? All gun captains were ready, and had been ready for at least three hours. AA compliment? Yep at alert. Engineering? All good under her hood. The rest angerly reported that nothing had changed since the last check and nothing would change until the next one so stop asking. A bit chuffed, her fairy captain shrugged it off and resumed watching the horizon through his spyglasses.

Polar

The Medic would have wished to be with the battle group, but she wasnt fast enough or armed heavily enough to deal with the kind of situation they would be getting into. Instead she'd spent her time arguing with the Secretary about her ability to send a recently wounded ship right back into the enemy's loving embrace not a day after getting a traumatic head injury. It was a battle Polar wasnt going to win, but she fought it down anyway. Now, she just sat on the dock, sullenly chain smoking her last pack for the day, a gathering armada of singed cigarette butts laying siege to her brooding state. She still had the gun from that morning, though it had never once been as close to use as it had been that incident at the cafe. The implications werent lost on what she had been ready and willing to do. Would it have done much? Probably not, but at that range even her little deck gun could have done something. Why was she willing to shoot down a fellow Kanmusu for this little So class?

Said So class was also still with her, since she was in charge of escorting the little submarine, the two had spent the day largely in each other's presence, bar bathroom breaks. In truth she couldnt answer the why. But she was coming to like the enemy sub, in a weird sorta abused puppy kind of way. So was dangerous as hell, and would kill a kanmusu if given the chance, like a viper the thought never left Polar's mind. Without her gear, and out of the water, she was just a scared little girl, and if you got past the weird eyes and the unnaturally pale skin, she was almost a kanmusu. Shed still gladly put the girl down if she made a break for it, but shed feel really bad about it afterward. So was the enemy after all. That was a truth Polar would never forget, even if she felt compelled to protect So from the other's wrath. "Have you killed anyone before?" She abruptly asked her pale companion.

by **Offer Erapia** » Sat Apr 11, 2020 9:21 am

So, with glory

the sub had since finished her meal and was waiting to leave when her guardian asked her a strange question. "have you killed anyone?" the question took the small sub by surprise she when to speak but couldn't for a minute or two. when she built up the courage she looked at polar meeting her gaze.

"yes, i have sunk many ships a few destroyers, two cruisers and..."

she then looked down avoiding her gaze abruptly cutting off her sentence. she feared that if she told the rest polar might hate her but although she was responsible for those deaths it was war. So had never thought about it until recently but ever since her own near death experience the thoughts and guilt kept crawling back in her mind. The feeling was overwhelming and in So's mind she had more questions then answers. did they suffer? what were their last thoughts? did they have friends or family? her small frame trembled as she thought about it. she took a deep breath and looked up her eyes glossy with tears.

"and....one medical ship"

as she spoke she didnt dare look at polar. she looked at the table in front of them her own mind continuing to torture her. visions and memories filled her head of the screams and goodbyes all her fallen enemies have made. she could vaguely hear the impacts of her torpedoes on the enemies hull the muffled explosions rang out. a few tears rolled off her eyes and down her pale cheeks she wiped them a moment later and sniffled she willed the emotions and memories back in the depths of her heart and mind. she sat their for a long moment doing and saying nothing. after which she looked up yet still not looking at polar.

"i hate war"

she said with bitter taste but she said it truthfully. at the beginning So never wondered why others fought to kill each other. like most warriors she did what she was told without question. but now that she had been on both sides she had questions.

"polar?"

she said her guardians name her head turning to meet her eyes once more.

"why are we at war?''

by **Fantrum** » Mon Sep 07, 2020 2:45 pm

A Return To Fashion
Glory

To Glory, a lifetime spent at war was nothing compared to what she had personally experienced the previous few days. A dull throbbing pain in her abdomen reminded her that she still hadnt taken a trip to the repair tubs yet, and likely wouldnt for a while yet. The Secretary was dead tired on her feet and only about two steps ahead of Polar putting her down by force. However she couldnt go down now, reports to higher needed to be filled and transmitted, the wounded needed to be worried about, and her goddamn cup of coffee was empty again! It would be her ass when this was all said and done. Higher would never allow her to command anything ever again, and shed be scrubbing toilets a the admiralty if she was lucky. All of that mattered very little to her at the present moment however. If her ship had sailed, the least she could do was attend to the needs of her kanmusu... at least the ones that had survived.

Coughing, retching more like, Glory covered her mouth with a handkerchief. Formerly a pristine white, the cloth came away speckled with dots of red. Another thing to worry about. Idly, she glanced over the casualty figures again, having almost forgotten the paper on her desk mere feet away. For starters, every single one of the Noyoans had vanished, missing presumed lost with all hands. A fine base to build on the bad news cake she was enjoying. Out of the entire active duty roster, exactly four ships were without damage. Those being Polar, Mord, Morderd, and Elliotsjökull. The Base's Surgeon was running on nothing but nicotine and vitriol, but somehow still saving lives. Those lost to enemy fire were T42, sunk by aircraft while harassing abyssal attempts at withdrawing from combat following the cession of active battle. Serica had been felled by enemy gunfire after being rushed to join the assaulting fleet's formation in battle, and Blake had been picked off by that goddamn submarine princess. The cursed thing had slipped away despite the fleets efforts to root her out like the rat she was.

Of the critical cases, many were still in need of Polar's constant attention. With so many wounded and so few repair tubs, they had to cycle out who was hurt the most and who could wait. According to Polar's triage, the worst hurt were Tumbledown, Kirill Lazarov, Sergei Malinokov, Buschlet-Lia, Caroline, Van Ruller, Prospekt, and Kreech River. These were the cases that were still not out of the woods yet and would be under close scrutiny and care from Polar until further notice. Glory felt her heart sink seeing Tumbledown's name on the list. Evidently the girl had rushed out with the reinforcement wave to do her duty, only to nearly lose her life in a gunnery duel with another destroyer. She'd been carried back to base at the brink of death by one of the older girls. Kreech River was another name that struck her. The reserved and monotone heavy cruiser had stood in the line of battle and helped repel the final waves of abyssal aircraft. Kreech had motored in under her own power, but collapsed at the dock. Another name popped out, Lia... Glory vaguely recalled the negative interaction she'd had with her and her companion before the battle, something that seemed like eons ago now.

It had been a few hours since the secretary had visited the ward down at the docks, and every time she did Polar found a new reserve of energy to threaten her with a syringe full of something. The other wounded were sent to quarters to be out of Polar's way, but without nurses it still relied on the harried medic to check on them. Most of the walking wounded or non life threatening wounded had been evacuated anyway, leaving just a few ships in barracks anyway. Casualties designated to stay were, listed as follows;

Vier Jahreszeiten, damaged heavily
Herde, Damaged heavily
Faoileán damaged heavily
Junipris damaged heavily
Pelle damaged heavily
Mary Read Kerman damaged heavily
Búraló Liath damaged heavily
Carman Fea damaged heavily
Turmfalke damaged heavily
Hornissennest damaged heavily

Ven-Mcalistar damaged moderately
Lizbeth-Charlatan damaged moderately

NFR Passero damaged lightly
Adelheid damaged lightly
MNC Shipsplitter damaged lightly
Jason Bach damaged lightly
Kerriott damaged lightly
Wespennest damaged lightly

The rest of the base had been escorted out for rest and recuperation farther in the back lines, and replacements were few and far between. Luckily for Glory however, her kanmusu had done as badly a number to the Abyssals as they had gotten. Hornet's after action report was corroborated and verified to be accurate in that scores of carrier and land based aircraft launched against the fleet had been shot out of the sky. In addition to the successful kicking of a beehive that was their primary base, the pale skinned abominations were in a far worse situation. That was the hope anyway. Now the race was on to see who could recover first and launch follow on attacks. All of that was secondary, because Glory's coffee was empty. Her tired brain locked onto the coffee machine, quietly minding its business in the corner, and she moved in for the kill.

A crisp taste, Marlboro
Polar

Everything hurt. A familiar hurt. She'd felt this way many times while at war. The sensation that your legs would give out at the slightest misstep, blinking hurt your eyes and you had to do it several times to refocus them. Her arms felt like cinder blocks were tied to them, and her feet were bleeding again. It was getting bad. Her stash of cherished death sticks was showing signs of running out. Before, she'd been courteous to other kanmusu and didnt smoke directly in their face. Now however, where she went, a lit cigarette followed and a ready round was loaded just behind her ear for easy reload. Blowing out another jet of toxic smoke from her nose, the medic made another round through her impromptu ward. She had a total of three working repair basins to treat over fourteen injured kanmusu. To the uninitiated, that was disgustingly insufficient even for normal every day use. To Polar, it meant a lot of suffering men and women. The repair docks had been transformed from a pleasant bathhouse like area to as close a hospital ward as Polar could get it. Privacy was awarded to her charges through use of cloth partitions that separated each of the three basins and the newly installed beds for the critically damaged. It wasnt ideal, but it kept the most injured in one place for Polar to keep watch over.

She was forced to rotate the ships through the basins to keep the most critical cases alive, and administer what amounted to battlefield aid to the others. So far it was working, just slowly. Too slowly. It would take days to repair even the worst off cases at the rate she was able to heal them, and that wasnt even considering everyone else who needed a turn in the tubs. Lost in her thoughts, she didnt notice her cigarette burn down past the filter until it had singed her lips. "Damnit!" She exclaimed and violently slapped the burning coal from her face. Taking the replacement from behind her ear with a trembling hand, the medic barely managed to get it lit as she fought against her own body.

Polar had seen some of the worst combat there was to see, or rather, the effects of it. But this was bad. Everything building to a head was wearing her sanity as thin as wax paper. No sleep, no cigarettes, no medical facilities, and all of it on her head. With no end in sight, she'd just have to keep going. Her current roster of Kanmusu in the tubs were Prospekt, Kreech River, and Lia, but their three hour cycle was about to be up and they were to be replaced by Tumbledown, Caroline, and Mary Read Kerman. It was the most unfortunate and heartbreaking thing for a kanmusu to be evicted from her basin before it was finished. They were still in pain, still broken, but more often than not they'd understand that their comrades needed their space more. And if they didnt, Polar was sure as hell to make them know.

"Alright, you three, its time to rotate out." Polar walked through the curtain partition between the one male and the two female's and started to make checks that no one was dying. The only one so far that met that description was Kreech.

Living is Pain
Kreech River

Flashing lights and blurred images. Kreech could remember vaguely coming into port, and the panic in her friend's eyes when they saw her, but everything before and after that was nothing but a spotty collection of still images and deafening explosions. Kreech had gathered that she was hurt badly, very much so. But she couldnt really feel any of that. Her mind was awash in whatever pain killer Polar had pumped her full of, and every movement was like a dream. Most of her time was spent asleep, or in short bursts of wakeful ignorance. Nothing seemed quite real to her, and even the medic explaining that she'd received a torpedo amidships and four armor piercing bombs to various points on her citadel didnt quite register. In fact, every time someone talked to her, it was as if they were standing at the end of a long hallway and shouting through a tin can. It was easier to ignore them and pretend nothing bad was happening.

The worst part, aside from being taken from the bath's warm embrace, was not knowing what had happened to her friend Carman. As the muddled shapes and sounds around her solidified into kanmusu, no one seemed able to answer her about where her friend was. She couldnt remember when she'd last seen Carman, and try as she might, couldnt force any recollection into her mind. Her inability to do anything about it continued to irk Kreech, even as she was half lifted, half dragged out of the basin and covered up. With help, she managed to stumble to her bed and fall into it, sending a rare spike of pain through her chest. Breathing heavily to make it past the sudden explosion of agony, Kreech closed her eyes and bade her mind to go back to that wonderful dreamland. A place she could escape at least temporarily.

by **Parcia** » Tue Sep 08, 2020 3:41 pm

PRNS Jaina.

The war had not been kind to the girl, not at all. Her rotation to homeward waters had seen her needing to hunt down more then a few errant Abyssals and had earned a few more kill tallies to her long set of marks on her rig gear and several new scars on her form. Her list of lost brothers and sisters grew as well. How ever, her time spent at the Shipyards in Aterazge and St. Augustine meant she was in tip top shape. Sonars were re-calibrated, 30mm guns refitted and updated with a new barrel assembly and new fire control system. She also had her machinery remodeled and refit, with a slight extension to her overall cruising range and O-2 supply allowing her to go further and stay under longer, as well as a re-working of her pressure hull and it's reinforcements to give her another 40 feet on her reliable test depth.

Arguably the most important addition to her gear were a more advanced type of weapon. The T-4 Falke torpedo was a marvel of modern weaponry and science. A standard G7E/T3 torpedo fitted with a passive acoustic seeker head and basic targeting computer that allowed it to "Lock on" to acquired sound signatures. Limited to 20 knots as to not to blind the head with the sound of rushing water, the torpedo was agile enough to perform needed course corrections to allow for it to align to a proper terminal heading. While to slow to catch most modern warships, the combination of speed and "target lock" allowed her to reliably hunt a type of prey no other submarine had been able to before: Enemy Submarines.

The latest revision fitted a turning arc limiter to prevent the torpedo from circling back around and acquiring it's mother ship until outside of the range of an affirmative lock, hopefully preventing the sinking of the torpedo's mothership.

While she and a few other enterprising skippers had gotten lucky shots with dumb fire torps fired at close range, the Falke harbingered a new era in warfare.

As she closed in the last 140 miles, she chose to surface and enjoy the setting sun, using her fuel tanks to recharge her batteries and send an encrypted radio message to her former port of call.

--Callsign Dutchmen, inabounds One Four Zero, over and out--

Some Hours later, PRNS Puma

She had arrived when most of the posted fleet were out on a deployment, setting up her quarters in the escort dorms and being rather...displeased at the nature of its untidy form. With the fleet deployed though, with almost every single posted kanmusu either on sortie or in a repair bay, she had taken it upon her self to deploy in a ASW patrol around the base, taking care to calibrate her sonar set and to form her own map of the local shoals and under water islands in the surrounding areas of the base, all under the watchful eyes of shore guns, MPA craft and a shore based radar array.

She was upset that she hadn't seen combat, beyond small scale skirmish and patrols in the home waters, and was a little more upset that she had been left alone in the port, even if she was late. That changed when she sortied out to meet an approaching mass of surface contacts and instead of an enemy strike force, she found the broken, battered, bloodied remnants of the Kanmusu fleet it self. She felt guilty, then out right horrible for her new squadron mates as she watched them limp back in to port, silent and gawking as she formed a rear guard for them as they returned home.

The hours drug on and she kept close to the repair baths, helping the repair ship Polar as best she could with her little medical training. That was, until she arrived. She knew of Jaina, the half blood bitch stolen from the old enemy across the sea. The Ghost had her own reputation as a cold, emotionless, and uncaring girl who had no problem using her fellow Parcians as bait for her war patrols. At least, that's what she thought off until the lanky sub girl walked past her in to the repair baths and straight up to the on hand medic, Polar, and took her by the shoulders.

"Hey, doc." She said with a smile before holding up what she had been hiding behind her back. "Ziganov, quality smokes, I've hand rolled some since a few got wet, but there's three of my cases I can spare." Handing them to the seemingly stunned women, she continued. "I'm a rated corpsmen, point me to were I'm needed and I'll report to the admiral when I'm done."

by **Sterkistan** » Thu Sep 10, 2020 7:08 pm

Sterkian Battlegroup | Makeshift Ward | Baths
Lizbeth-Charlatan, Ven-Mcalistar, Buschlet-Lia, Junipris

The Sterkians had taken substantial damage in the days of fighting, all four of them would take time to be combat ready again. Lia and Junipris had been hit the worst; Lia was one of the most critical cases in the whole fleet. She'd been taken by surprise by the Submarine Princess and paid the price, taking 2 torpedoes to her starboard that left her dead in the water. From there it got procedurally worse, she became the target of abyssal dive bombers that rattled her superstructure and breached her citadel on the port side, this happened to draw the attention of an Abyssal Battleship which smashed her bridge before Lizbeth intervened.
She sat unconscious in the tub, bandages wrapped around the numerous wounds adorning her body. Junipris was on one of the beds, providing AA screen for Ven ended badly, caught in the constant waves of aircraft that bombed them both, unfortunately she was also the target of the submarine princess before driving her off with her ASW weapons. She also lay unconscious on the bed, wrapped up in bandages. Thankfully her bridge was spared most of the damage.

Comparably Ven and Lizbeth weren't that bad off. Ven's engines and flight deck were trashed, and she was nursing her legs as she sat next to Lia, stroking her head as she healed. Lizbeth was more consistently damaged, the scuffle with the Abyssal Battleship had left her covered in shell holes and scuff marks. Two of her main turrets needed repairs and all of them needed tuning. The same bombing runs that Ven and Junipris had caught left a nasty gash above her eye, evidence of a strike to her bridge that almost blinded her the same way Diamantina was. Both Ven and Lizbeth had resisted getting medical attention until their subordinates were stable, but they were hurt and pale.

Lizbeth's hands were balled into fists, her stained and bloodstained knuckles turning white, she couldn't bring herself to take Junipris's hand, her performance as their protector was disgraceful and she wasn't the one on the edge of death because of it. It wasn't fair. She'd do anything to have taken the damage in their place.

by **Fantrum** » Thu Sep 10, 2020 10:52 pm

Polar
Hand rolled Beats machine rolled every day including sunday

Polar just stared, for what felt like decades, at the small humidor like box the sub had handed her. The gears in her head turned slowly to understand what was happening, and instead she wore a blank expression, lit cigarette burning down in her mouth. Slowly, she flipped the box open to reveal a carefully hand rolled cancer sticks. Each one was clearly cared for and had been immaculately placed in the box. Blinking several times, Polar's eyes unfocused themselves and a slight smile forced itself onto her face. For just a second, the torrent of pain and suffering around her was gone. Her exhaustion and worries evaporated. In that second, she was just one kanmusu getting a heartfelt and meaningful gift from another. "Thanks," She almost whispered, and then reality slugged her in the guts. The war was back, the fatigue Polar felt in her bones wasnt going anywhere, and people needed her help. But, as she slid the first cigarette behind her ear and pocketed the box, her smile remained.

"Can you help Lia out of the tub," There was that pang of guilt again, "And get her situated on her bed please?" Lizbeth, who seemingly hadnt moved a muscle in a few hours, stood next to the bed Lia was to inhabit. Polar felt for the girl, it was a condition she'd seen before and one that was presumably never going away. Survivor's guilt. "Grab her friend to help you, Ill be around if you need me." Polar finished before making her way across the floor where Tumbledown struggled to undress enough to drop herself into the repair basin.

by **Parcia** » Fri Sep 11, 2020 2:41 pm

Jaina, the repair baths.

She gave the doctor a good pat on the shoulder before turning to attend to the...Cruiser? With out an ONI classification chart or really knowing the girl personally Jaina couldn't really be sure. Still, she took a step, composed her self in her most motherly form and made her way over to the girl.

First was a Corpsmen's evaluation, noting down wounds to both the girl's body and her rig and gathering any data, heart beat's per minuet, even gathering the girls temperature. Dealing enough death in her time at sea had taught her the value of trying to heal when on land. That's how she rationalized it at least.

The poor thing looked...horrid. She hadn't seen a full report but had heard prey tell of a Submarine Princess and the battle damage to Lia's rig and...body told enough to peak her interest. She turned to the other girl standing next to her friend in the tub. "Jaina, I'm the fleet's recently transferred Parcian Hunter Killer attack bote." She smiled awkwardly as her accent rang out over the otherwise quiet bath. "Can you tell me what happened, from what I can tell your friend, Lia, will survive through this but if she was attacked by a Submarine princess, I'd need as much information as I can gather."

This was to both gather intelligence on her coming hunt, but to also stall for a little more time for the girl to soak in the baths...just because people called her heartless didn't mean it was true.

by **Fantrum** » Sun Sep 13, 2020 10:48 pm

Ta Class
Out of the frying pan

Her patience was a thin as it had ever been. Only now, several holes were poked through it. Mounting losses and a solid string of defeats, not to mention personal injury, were starting to take their toll on the Abyssal. The previous battle could be marked up as a stalemate, by all accounts her fleet had sunk several kanmusu and their damnable jet fighters were run ragged as a direct result. However, it had not come cheap. The airfield Demon had personally reported that only twenty percent of her aircraft remained. The sheer fact that she had come in person stated the severity of their newfound aircraft shortage. Not only that, but Ta had been forced to call in a majority of the raiding fleets to shore up the base's defenses, completely defeating the purpose for her existence in the first place, to raid kanmusu shipping. The list of lost aircraft and escorts sunk had yet to be relied to from headquarters, which told Ta all she needed to know about what her bosses thought.

It wasnt all gloom and doom, the first shipments of jet fighters had arrived, and would begin arriving in greater numbers as the days wound on. But that was about where it ended. As the battleship sat in her executive repair dock, she let herself slid down so just her nose was above water. Closing her eyes, she blew a few bubbles with her mouth and thought of the battle, specifically her part in it. A vast majority of her damage had been recived from a lucky armor piercing bomb hit athwartships. The munitions had snuffed out her boiler fires and left her adrift with no power, and had wrecked seven of eight boilers. More or less knocking her completely out of the fight. Her favorite person ever, the Harbor Demon, had been waiting for her. For the first time ever, Ta was happy to see the awful wretch. She'd only been lightly damaged in the attacks on their base proper, and so was completely able to devote herself to the triage work of repairing the surviving Abyssal fleet. She had regrettably saved Ta's life, and that pissed her off to even think about.

Raising from her personal safe haven, Ta tested her legs to make sure they worked before putting weight on them. Satisfied, but only after a few minutes of stretching back and forth, she dried and dressed herself. Taking a few moments more, the pale girl looked at herself in the mirror. A terrifying visage met her there, and for the faintest of moments, a heartbeat even, she was overwhelmed with disrepair at what she was. Her eye still shone with ghastly blue light, but the left side of her face was a ruin. The waterlogged hair on her head showed better days, and her body as a whole was simply... wrong. Then, just a quickly as it washed over her, it was replaced with a cold anger. This had been done to her by the vile 'others' those who dared oppose the will of the earth itself. The seas had chosen her to lead this small battle against their foes, she was armed with nothing less than the mandate of god. How dare anyone stand against her.

A grimace settled on her features, a familiar feeling. "Fleetmaster, there is a guest to see you." A winded Ri class appeared inside her sanctum. She was clearly terrified, dropped to one knee and panting hard.

Intruding upon Ta's privacy was a fast way to get punished, but her rising anger was replaced with a spine chilling realization. This Ri had finely tuned survival instincts and would never have dared this without exceptional reason. Which could only mean a few things. Yelling at the Ri to dismiss herself, Ta recomposed herself against the panic that now threatened to overtake her. No sooner had Ri vanished did the door swing open again. Only this time, there was no cruiser meekly cowering before Ta. Instead, in walked someone Ta had never imagined seeing while alive. She was far above average height, at six feet and three inches, taller than Ta. Her pure white complexion complimented by the dark unnatural outgrowths around her hips, and farther by the white sundress that seemed to flutter in a nonexistent breeze. Her hair, also flowing on that same ethereal draft, was at least as long as she was tall, and her eyes glowed softly with a malicious red hue. Aside from her hips she was completely normal, although moving with the composure and grace of the ocean at rest. Atop her head sat a small, black, crown with three hornlike protrusions on it.

Ta practically flung herself to the floor, nearly touching her forehead to the floor. No, this was no Ri class, but the Summer Princess, overall commander for the over sector. "Ah, Ta class... Ive heard..." Her voice flowed as the waves across a sandy beach. Smooth, but unyielding, inevitable. "Interesting things about you, and your command." Ta knew better than to even look up from the floor. "The developments of the last few weeks have been of great importance to me, and those above." The battleship could hardly hear the princess' words through the pounding in her ears. This was it, she was to pay for her failures with her life. She would never be given a chance to get even with the one who'd taken her eye. "But alas, my time is quite important. I shall be brief. Rise, and step forward."

Compelled as if by god, Ta obeyed. The princess stepped out of the way and revealed a strange device. It was about the size of a repair booth, but had its own legs and a gaping maw pointed directly at Ta. The grotesque thing had spiny protrusions coming out of it everywhere and more closely resembled a walking mouth than anything else. "Ive decided that against the odds you've faced," Here it comes, a new feeling settled over Ta, an emotion shared by condemned ships the world over. Peace. She still felt the poltergeist of emotions that raged in her, but none of that really mattered. "You'll be refitted to fit your role, as a battleship Princess."

The peace she'd felt shattered as her heart stopped. A refit? No... Death was preferable to this! "Get in, Ta." She waved an ethereal hand at the maw, which led to an awful future. Against her will, Ta felt her legs work against her, carrying her closer and closer to that horrible place. Then she was in it, and the light vanished as the maw closed. The only companion she had now was her own screaming, as the refit platform began its work.

by **The Cross and Davids Star** » Mon Sep 14, 2020 5:18 am

Heretic Ship Drummer Boy
"Even in immense pain, I still serve."

Drummer Boy was not looking good. Granted, his usual appearance made him resemble more of a zombie than an abyssal, but the sheer amount of damage he had taken during that battle was staggering. He was certain if it were not for the harbor demon's direct intervention, he would have been hitting the seafloor in minutes. As what could be called an field officer among the abyssals, he was quickly singled out. First came that horrid salvo from one of the kanmusu battleships, then before he had any kind of a chance to recover, he saw her. A Theocracy ship speeding straight for him, greatsword raised and poised to strike, obeying the tenants of the order he once rejected, and then, all was black. The first face he saw again was the harbor demon's, his savior again and again.

Despite requests and demands for him to rest, Drummer worked. His mind was racing like a telephone operator, sending and receiving messages all across the Abyssal battlenet, it was all he could really do in this state, hell, he was even requesting the princesses to use him for his ability, so that other fleets may be prepared, or at the least, can send aid. But even then, he couldn't stop thinking about the harbor demon. He didn't need to be cleaned, she made sure of that, but there was a feeling lurking in his gut that he was not acquainted to. It made him feel... Good, to think about her.

by **Arrstotzka** » Mon Sep 14, 2020 5:03 pm

Prospekt - Breathe

Fire. Fire and blunt trauma is all that the battleship could recall from the fleet's engagement with the abyssals. Prospekt was one of the most critically hit of them all. Sustaining four torpedoes to his stern, an air barrage to his citadel, and an ungodly beating to his bridge. With his left arm in an almost makeshift sling that was pieced together with extra materials laying around when he was wheeled into the medbay, bloodied bandages spanning his chest, it was a miracle he didn't need a wheelchair.

It had been one hell of a month for him. First an assault suffered by the enemy and the untimely loss of his left eye, and now this. After a briefing by Polar on his condition, he had thought it was as though the hand of providence had reached out and kept the life in his veins. But who was he to dare complain? After all, at least he was among the survivors. So many comrades, all lost to the damned abyssals. Prospekt was struck with a great guilty sorrow, particularly for the ones he never got to know in his time on base. Could he have done more to be there for those who needed someone in such a calm before the storm? Would he feel worse if he had made the effort to acquaint himself with more people? Damned if he knew, but these thoughts bothered the hell out of him.

The flashing of white fluorescent lights rushing over his head played again and again in his head like an endless film. Upon being brought in, he felt comfort in knowing of Polar's tending to his injuries. He may have known the ravenous smoker for a rather limited time, but he knew her more than he knew anyone else on base. He had trusted her with his life once before, he was more than willing to do it again. He had to give her credit, the system of rotating patients in and out of the tubs, while somewhat chaotic, had to be the best option there was given the prevailing circumstances. Poor Polar, he thought, what a mess she had on her hands. All the other kanmusu had to was take the pain with the cycle of treatment.

And now, with his mind made fuzzy by painkillers, it was his turn to be out of the tub.

Besides himself in the basins were Kreech and Lia. The latter he had yet to properly introduce himself to, and the former he wasn't quite sure he had the pleasure of knowing. Gazing around the room after pulling his bare self out, he could barely see the miracle-worker of a medic assisting the tall blonde. Further down at the other station, he noticed a face he was surely unfamiliar with.

Donning what seemed like a wet suit, a pleasant-looking sub he must have dwarfed appeared to be helping the similarly damaged Lia from her tub. Fair skinned, the obsidian-haired girl was phased from one end of the room to the other by his dizziness.

"She seems nice." That's at least what he thought he said. Slurring his words in his exhaustion, it all came out as gibberish.

by **Jebslund** » Wed Sep 16, 2020 10:31 am

Hornissennest
One more victory like that...

It was nothing short of a disaster. Between the losses, and the casualties, the base was down to a frighteningly low number of active ships, and, no matter how Hornissennest looked at it, it was her fault. It was she who had made the call to attack the enemy base, instead of merely reporting its position. It was she who had insisted on one more round of bombing and barrages instead of retreating immediately after the first strike. It was she he chose to engage the enemy fleet in a running battle, rather than simply trying to out-distance them and perhaps fight on better terms. There were a great many failures for her to account for, and a great many lessons to be learned. It would not have surprised Hornissennest if Glory no longer considered her fit for command.

More importantly, however, was the business of ensuring such a failure would not happen again. It was part of why she had refused to report to the repair docks. Her subordinates would need healing first. She needed to think. to plan. And, some part of her she was likely trying to ignore, to atone. She had taken major damage during the battle. Her flight deck had been half ruined, her bridge had suffered hits from enemy bombs, and she had taken several torpedo hits amidships. Fully half of her anti-aircraft guns had been silenced, and none of her 127 mm guns was operational. Wespennest and Mord had had to recover her surviving Maschinenteufels. Her Fleigenwaffels had had barely enough room to land, and would barely have enough room to take off. She was badly listing to port. For all intents and purposes, the carrier was combat ineffective, and would remain so until her flight deck at the very least had been repaired. All the same, Hornissennest considered herself one of the fortunate ones, and would rather her bad command decisions have resulted in her not being such.

Mary Read Kerman
Kraken please don't take the girl

It was a miracle the destroyer was still alive. Battlefield aid had helped, but luck had been the more important factor. Luck the destroyers carried little in the way of fuel. Luck that her fuel tanks had not taken her ammunition with them. Luck that her engines had taken the brunt of the bomb blast that took out her fuel and boilers. And luck that the torpedo that hit her had been a dud. Even so, she was in very bad condition, with other bomb strikes having done their damage, and it was not under her own power that she had made it back to base. Everything hurt. Even so, when Polar came to call her for her turn in the repair baths, Mary Read Kerman begged her to give Junipris her turn instead. She had been part of Ven's ASW screen, and the Submarine Princess that had hit them had eluded her. Although the little destroyer had managed to catch one of the abomination's torpedoes, she hadn't been able to protect them right, and that hurt. Even the torpedo she'd caught had been a dud, sinking after hitting her instead of exploding. The planes that had gone after them had attacked her as well, leading to her being rendered dead in the water and down most of her weapons. She owed it to them, and to Junipris especially, to wait until they were okay to take her turn. If she gave up her spot, that meant Junipris got an extra turn, right?

Vier Jahreszeiten
Hurting and still healing

Aircraft were anathema. Vier Jahreszeiten had taken extensive damage from enemy bombs, it being just about easier to say what hadn't been hit by *something*, and the torpedo an enemy So graciously gifted her with didn't help. Nor did her current posting's adherence to international standards when it came to her typical off-duty self-medication meaning she had to rely on more conventional painkillers to see her through, something that had never been particularly effective for her. Less so with the rationing that had to be done due to the bases's supply situation. Her convoy's supplies had managed to make the situation tenable, for a given situation, but command had *clearly* underestimated what was needed. That meant all kinds of trouble, and a very grumpy, though still (with effort) warm and caring tender reporting to Polar, despite barely being standing and held together by bandages and a little of Mord's duct tape, to help in any way she could. She had already been to see Adelheid, despite her being in no physical danger, to check her morale. The poor cruiser had been quietly sobbing in her quarters, her typically infallible cheerfulness nowhere to be found in the wake of the passing of her sister ship. The two had been close, she was given to understand.

by **Sterkistan** » Fri Sep 18, 2020 7:30 pm

SRN Lizbeth-Charlatan
Lizbeth was shaken from her trance-like train of thought by a hand resting on her shoulder.

Parcia wrote:The poor thing looked...horrid. She hadn't seen a full report but had heard prey tell of a Submarine Princess and the battle damage to Lia's rig and...body told enough to peak her interest. She turned to the other girl standing next to her friend in the tub. "Jaina, I'm the fleet's recently transferred Parcian Hunter Killer attack bote." She smiled awkwardly as her accent rang out over the otherwise quiet bath. "Can you tell me what happened, from what I can tell your friend, Lia, will survive through this but if she was attacked by a Submarine princess, I'd need as much information as I can gather."

Her eyes narrowed as she recalled the events of the last battle,
"I wasn't fast enough to help her. I didn't see the Sub Princess until it had hit her. I couldn't sink that battleship fast enough."
She felt rage well up inside her as she remembered the face of the Abyssal Battleship as she sank, her hands wrapped around the neck of the pale skinned wretch. Lizbeth could still taste the primal rage; she was practically foaming at the mouth as she watched the life slip away as she sank below the waves. Lizbeth clenched her fists, the fires of anger glowing in her eyes. If she could drag her up from the depths to strangle her all over again she would.

Lizbeth slowly calmed down, her breathing steadying. She readjusted the bandages on her hands and arms quickly, her wounds were aching for medical attention but she was hardly the worst off.
"Help me get her out." Lizbeth muttered, if it was up to her Lia would stay in the bath until she was in top shape, but it wasn't up to her.

by **Fantrum** » Sun Sep 20, 2020 11:02 pm

Polar
Heartaches by the number

Having stolen a second for herself, Polar had taken it to get some fresh air. This being one of those rare moments she didnt have a cigarette hanging limply from her mouth. Even though she hadnt sat down, she felt her eyes sagging. Just on the cusp of falling asleep standing, a small voice smacked her awake. It was weaker and normal, and robbed of its youthful excitement and enthusiasm. It was Mary Reed's strained begging. She wished dearly for her friend Junipris to take an extra turn in the repair bins. The pathetic tones broke Polar's entrenched heart, "Im sorry Mary," She Crouched and nearly fell over when her head started swimming from the sudden movement. "Everyone is hurting right now," She pointed at the makeshift hospital, "But the faster you get healthy and fit, the better." She sighed and ran a hand through her unkept hair, "And that means you have to take your turn in the repair basin just like everyone else." The tender felt if she kept going the way she was, she'd need a turn in those damn bins too, but she couldnt stop yet, not while there was work to do.

Speaking of work, "Vier," She wasnt entirely familiar with the name, the ship was new to this base after all, "What I could use you for," Her lightning quick assessment ended after a head to toe glance, "Is bed rest." Where she had spoken softly to Mary, her voice returned to the customary business tone. "Youre far too damaged to do more than bleed on people." Placing a firm hand on her shoulder and another on her wrist, Polar began incessantly guiding the patient inside and to a bed. "This is where youll do the most good." She insisted, waving at an empty gurney.

Just then a base wide announcement came over the loudspeakers, "Aircraft Carriers Mord, Wespennest, Ven-Mcalistar, Battleship Lizbeth, Cruiser Shipsplitter, and submarine Jaina report to Secretary Ship Glorious immediately. Carry on."

by **Jebslund** » Wed Sep 23, 2020 10:04 am

Mary Read Kerman
Troubles by the score

In her head, Mary Read Kerman knew Polar was right. She needed to get better and return to combat readiness. She was a hole in the roster as she was. And giving up her turn wouldn't fix that.

But, in Mary Read Kerman's heart, things weren't so simple. She'd failed. Ven had been counting on her to spot and eliminate enemy subs. The Submarine Princess had eluded the destroyer. Ven had needed her to prevent the enemy sub from being able to fire on her. the Submarine Princess had gotten enough off to hurt Ven's engines. Worse still, the abomination had managed to seriously hurt Junipris. And the aircraft... Had she even made a difference? It didn't matter to Mary Read Kerman that she'd found and sank her fair share of Sos. It didn't matter that she'd taken down her fair share of aircraft. It didn't matter that no one in the fleet had yet blamed her, either for Ven and Junipris getting hurt, or for Erika's immobilisation that had lead to the light carrier catching a heavy cruiser's shells with her magazine. All that mattered was her failure to protect them from that one sub. That one princess that had done so much harm to her allies and friends.

Mary Read Kerman didn't *deserve* to get better, and, for a second, she considered protesting. But she'd seen the tears Kerriott had tried to hide when the ragged fleet had returned and the time to process what had happened had come. She knew it was the wrong thing to do. "Yes, ma'am...", she replied, trying to keep the self-doubt out of her tone. Trying not to let herself ask how a useless destroyer could possibly help.

Turmfalke
Tore up from the floor up

Turmfalke would have that damned wannabe sea-cow's ass if it was the last thing she did.

Not Glory. The base commander had done noth... very little wrong, in her estimation. Most of the cockups had been courtesy of Hornissennest being too aggressive on this one. No, it was an enemy battlecruiser that had earned the heavy cruiser's ire this time around. Heavy damage to her forecastle. A mangled port gunwale. One immobile and chewed to hell turret, guns functional. One immobile and mangled turret, one gun silenced and one missing. One turret with moderate cosmetic damage. Extensive superstructure damage. A FUBAR'd torpedo launcher. Almost no functioning secondaries. All brought to her courtesy of an enemy battlecruiser bitch that was still floating. Oh, Turmfalke had sure as hell gotten her licks in. Even rendered the bitch dead in the water with a lucky couple volleys that hit the same spot.

That hadn't been nearly enough. That tub of lard was *dead* next time they met. Come hell or high water.

Herde
Did anyone catch the number of that superbattleship?

Herde had never hurt so much in her life. Between the legions of Abyssal divebombers bombing the absolute shit out of her flight deck (resulting in all her surviving aircraft diverting to Mord first and whoever else could take them second), that annoying Submarine Princess, and a couple equally annoying Sos, she'd been doing good to have only taken as much damage as she did, and yet she still hurt everywhere, and that was bad! Naturally, that meant there was only one thing to do, and that was complain about her pain to everyone who would listen! It didn't matter who, either. Polar, when she was near, whoever was in the next bed over, anyone who walked by, anyone who came to visit them, even any passing fairies got to hear her thoughts in one long never ending paragraph... Well, no, not quite. On account of all the ows that were peppered about like misplaced punctuation because it turned out her radio mast had taken a bit of a hit, too, which also meant she couldn't really hear that well and even more since her hydrophones were also a bit not working but that just meant she had to talk louder, right? Except when she was sleeping. Whenever the pain let her. Herde didn't know how Hornissennest wasn't also hurting. Or why Mord hadn't visited... She and Mord had to be friends, because Mord had a nickname for her, and nicknames meant friends, right?

Mord and Wespennest
Seeking Glory

Wespennest had already been on her way to speak with Glorious when the announcement went out. Specifically, to see if any other ships assigned to the base could field Hornissennest's jets. Her sister ship being out of commission had landed a number of jets on her deck. Ones that took up spots her own survivors had needed, forcing them to divert to other carriers or be lost. All because they were too valuable to lose. Wespennest had wanted jets. In fact, in her '49 refit, she'd get them as part of her standard force. But getting her younger sister's sloppy seconds was a hard pass for her, and that meant finding someone who actually wanted the damned things, which needed Glory's permission.

The disaster of a recon mission had not, thankfully, left her with much in the way of damage. She'd taken a glancing hit to her aft flight deck from a light cruiser, and some largely cosmetic damage to her island from the same, and a couple of her 127mm guns were knocked out, but it was nothing serious. She hardly even felt it. Her pride was far more damaged than her body, truth be told. Indeed, she was one of only four Jebslunden kanmusu to have gotten off so lightly. The others being Kerriott, who had suffered only cosmetic damage to her bridge, Adelheid, who had a slowly rotating turret and no other damage (to her body, at least. Wespennest had never seen a Jubelnleiterin so despondent.), and Mord, who, despite having lost a gun, had somehow managed to duct tape it back on and together, in full working order, with deftly scooped up flotsam and some sticks she'd picked up before leaving, leaving a net result of no damage.

That didn't mean she had to like the outcome. Her sister had made grievous errors in judgement during the mission. Errors that were compounded by her refusing to report for medical care beyond field aid. But that was for the base commander to worry about, not Wespennest.

Mord, meanwhile, was simply happy to not have to carry out Wespennest's orders to assist Polar. The order had come just before the announcement, and Mord happily accompanied the larger carrier to Admiralty, her mood brightened by the reprieve from being subjected to the reportedly unabated chatter of Das Grauenschrecken. Granted, remembering the kanmusu that had been hurt and, Krakken forbid, sank by the enemy put a damper on that brightening, but reporting to Glorious would still be better than (*shudder*) dealing with *her*.

by **The Cross and Davids Star** » Wed Sep 23, 2020 10:15 am

Heretic Ship Drummer Boy

Busy in his work, Drummer was trying to coordinate supplies to his fleet to reinforce, when a massive scream overwhelmed his senses. He knew it to be that Ta class, but under that, he sensed newfound authority, a voiceless call demanding he obey.

"She's... She's been promoted!" The Abyssal cried, becoming ever closer to his Harbor Demon caretaker. "The Ta class is royalty!"

Templar Ship Shipsplitter

Split was out on the shoreline, covered in small bandages. Fishing rods strewn out in a line in front of her, and behind her two buckets of fish, plenty of food for the injured and recovering without becoming a strain. She smiled, looking back to the battle. Nothing stopped her, shells glanced off her mighty shield and topedoes were too slow to make contact, but that damn harbor demon... She kept her from her prey. That heretic. Aiding his horrid allies before she smote him. He should have been dead. He got lucky. Those around however, weren't as lucky. Split... Only has to be lucky once. That's when she heard the announcement, and with a sigh, reeled in her rods and took up her bucket to hand over to the cooks before going to the Secretary's office.

by **Offer Erapia** » Tue Nov 24, 2020 7:30 pm

Mordred, Running about

Mordred quickly walked down the hall. With a pace that radiated severity many ships had come in badly hurt. And in need of immediate attention but she had different ideas. She had yet to see combat and given the current situation she needed too. Her own comrades were lying in healing basins and she wasn't there with them. To any other kanmusu it might have sounded strange but injury and battle were apart of the job. She was so angry she could spit nails her glare said the same. After making a quick left she looked up at the sign that hung above her destination.

In one fluid motion she reached out and opened the door. She had expected to see the boss at her desk doing all sorts of work but to her surprise she was no where to be seen. Letting her anger cool she began to think rationally. The higher ups definitely had work that needed to be done and Mordred could understand why. The tall kanmusu took a seat on a wooden chair and waited. She tapped her foot impatiently the clock that hung on the wall ticked ever so slowly.

"This is ridiculous."

She spat with enough venom to kill a person. An able bodied battleship such as her needn't be grounded. And especially at such a time like this. As she ranted to herself she heard a low sheepish knock at the door. She quickly twisted expecting to see the boss but her anger was quickly washed away when, in the door way, stood the small Caroline. She was wearing her oversized clothes as always her white hair and ruby red eyes could bring a smile to anyone. And mordred was no different before she knew it her lips creased into a smile and she practically lunged out of her chair.

"CAROLINE!!"

She erupted enveloping the small girl in a crushing hug. Her cheery laughter could be heard down the hall. After what was an eternity she finally released her bear hug to step back.

"Such a sight for salty eyes"

Mordred exclaimed beaming from ear to ear. It had been a while since she last saw her sister in arms. But it wasn't just that Mordred didn't know who was all injured during the battle and was indeed worried that Caroline was one of the possible casualties. But upon not seeing even the slightest of scratched her woes were put to ease.

"So what brings you hear?"

The small girl stiffened slightly. She always tensed when asked questions it was natural for her do to her social anxiety. She looked down and twiddled her thumbs after a brief moment she built up the courage to speak.

"I-I...was going to ask to be reassigned"

She said promptly. Mordreds smile got even bigger she was glad she wasn't the only one who had a problem with the current situation. But this might even increase thier chances seeing as more than one person had a issue. Gesturing to a seat mordred offered Caroline a seat to which she accepted. As they waited for the head of operations to return from her duties they began to strike up a series of conversations. Giving the two something to do while they waited.

by **Fantrum** » Tue Dec 08, 2020 4:05 am

Glory
There Aint no rest for the wicked

One thing the secretary didnt have to worry about, was an attack. She'd been accosting the radar operator fairies regularly for updates on possible, previously unanticipated abyssal counter attacks. And it was during one of these trips to the duty room that a message had been relayed to her, district command was sending a representative to the base. She'd known it was bound to happen. You didnt suffer such a terrible defeat with nothing to show for it without higher taking an interest in what you were doing and why you were fucking up so badly. That didnt stop the news from settling like brick in her stomach. On her way back to the main office, Glory had stolen a few moments in the head. Using the time to splash herself in the face with cool water and remind herself that she could deal with that after the present crisis had been dealt with. Drying off and straightening her dungarees, Glory returned to her office to a lovely surprise. Feeling just like old times, no more than a week prior, people wished to have a chat with her about one thing or another.

No sooner had she made the entrance did another violent coughing bout strike her, sending her doubled over as the pain wracked her frame. When it subsided, Glory quickly pocketed her handkerchief. "Mordred, Caroline," She started while walking to her desk, "I dont remember you two being on the call list for the mission." Having not slept in some time, her mouth worked faster than her brain could catch up to, "Unless youre here to volunteer for it, or something else?" She reached for her empty coffee mug and had it halfway to her face before realizing it was in fact devoid of contents. Setting it down as calmly as possible, Glory took a deep breath and stood again, absently pawing at the slowly reddening bandages around her mid section as a spike of pain lanced up her spine. "There's about to be a mission brief so make this fast."

by **Fantrum** » Wed Dec 16, 2020 5:14 am

Ta Class
Enduring

Ta was, but also wasnt. She had long since lost her voice, and with it her connection to reality. She existed in a cold darkness. A suffocating blanket of black abyss she could do nothing to avoid except be swept in its pull. Only vaguely aware of what was happening to her, the battleship's mind began to wander, desperately trying to stave off the insanity of feeling nothing at all. Where at first the only feeling was searing agony, as her body was broken down and reshaped, now there was only her thoughts. A welcome reprieve until her tortured thoughts began to linger too long on topics her consciously avoided. Had she done all she could in the past? Was she truly fulfilling the will of the oceans and all those who looked up to her for guidance? Her first answer was of course she had. How could a battleship be expected to anticipate mutinous aircraft carriers or sudden jet fighter attacks?

But the doubt that grew in her heart only took root and spread. She had known from the start that particular Wo was a deviant, someone to watch and more importantly purge. Her attitude had spread to her underlings and very likely could have kept right on spreading had she not picked up and left when she did. And Ta was fully aware of her orders regarding the base she was encroaching on, even before being hit by surprise faster than normal aircraft. She'd been fully warned of what could happen, yet she'd underestimated the enemy and paid for it dearly. Then there was the... simply put, debacle. An outright fleet engagement between the Kanmusu and her abyssals. A fight she ostensibly won. The bomb hits and casualty figures spoke otherwise, and for all intent and purpose her base was non operational until they were reinforced.

Failure after failure. She had overseen her command running itself into the ground at each venture, and for what? Experience. The battleship felt a spark, something shifted, the ghost of a realization dawning on her. She'd survived each of these encounters, learned at a high price trades people had been born with. She fostered in her mind equal parts healthy respect and driving hatred for the Kanmusu. Adapting to new situations as they came, brining with her that same drive to see the ocean's will be done. She couldnt leave that task unfinished! She would have her retribution! No force could stop the fire of revenge that singed her very soul.

Battleship Princess
Gasping

With a pop and what sounded like water flooding across a tiled floor, the newly borne princess threw open her mouth and sucked in her first lung fulls of cool evening air. Immediately doubling over and wrenching more fluid out of her guts, she lay there unmoving. After several minutes of sputtering and coughing, she finally managed to raise her head and look around the room. It was the executive repair suite. The mobile, mouthed, abomination stood in the corner, a few feet from where it had just spit her out in a pile of silk white hair and bleached skin. It had no reaction and was probably just a mindless construct, typical of Abyssal engineering. Unable to stand on her own, the princess crawled to her counter and with great force of will hoisted herself up slowly to the mirror at the top.

The sight that greeted her was unexpected and unfamiliar. Her previously shoulder length black hair was now as white as the rest of her, with streaks of black shooting through its now much longer mass. Her blue eyes remained, and as she touched the now perfect skin around her previously ruined eye a smile touched her lips. The eerie blue glow that emitted from her ice blue eyes could freeze water and seemed to leave a trail of blue wherever she went. She wasnt taller, but she felt strong. Far stronger than before. To complete her transformation, a pair of short horns had grown out of her head just above her hairline. No too tacky, but just enough to denote seniority. She decided she like them very much.

Donning a white turtlenecked sweater and a tasteful black skirt, the princess admired herself before an amused voice taunted her from the doorway. "Vanity was not a trait you possessed, but its not unnatural in this case." There stood the oversector's imposing figure. However, this time the princess did not feel the intense urge to throw herself to the ground before her. Instead she offered a low bow to her superior which was received with an approving nod. "No one who is undeserving of the promotion survives the transformation. You standing here proves our choice was at least in part correct." The taller woman stalked into the room, circling her subordinate like a shark sizing up a floating morsel. "You took to the transformation well." She snapped her fingers and the sulking mouth snapped from its lowly place in the corner and quickly made its exit. "Your orders remain unchanged, any addition or change will find you." Then she was gone.

Harbor Demon
Some Time Ago

The Demon loved her charges. She was nothing without them. They'd come to her, bloody and bruised, beaten and mistreated. She would take it upon herself to see them back to fighting shape, healthy and as close to happy as she could possibly make them. Then theyd leave, seeking to harm themselves in new ways. For those that left her she cared not. They didnt need her anymore and she didnt need them. Should they chose to run into danger rather than her embrace that was their problem, and too many ships required her attention almost nonstop. She couldnt spare a moment to anguish the loss of useless ships wishing to die alone on the ocean. Drummer was an example of someone she needed to help heal, to bring him away from death's shepherding hands and back to the light of life.

He had been devout in his persecution of duty, an uncommon trait among those lower than flagship status. It endeared him greatly to the demon, even if he talked a fine line by continuing to work after its novelty had worn off. Someone the demon did not enjoy was Ta. Being the boss, the demon had to do what she said. But being nominally equals, the Harbor demon could express exactly what she thought at all times to her. "Promoted? What?" The realization momentarily stopped her train of thought. Then the moment passed and she resumed her work. It changed nothing, the demon called the shots in her harbor and if Ta disagreed, she'd have had her removed by a higher power long ago. She was a damn good harbor demon, and she knew it. That said, it might be in her best interest to restrain herself more often... "Royalty..." A small worried frown creased her face, "Hopefully that, that brigand will use her position to stop bringing so many hurting ships home. I cant be expected to work around the clock while under attack." She mindlessly pawed at the scorch marks on her right shoulder, the only reminder she had of the battle that had found her. "At least your healing is coming along, even if you persist against my will to work." She directed her gaze downward at Drummer before gracefully grabbing him to inspect the damages for herself.

by **The Cross and Davids Star** » Wed Dec 16, 2020 7:09 am

Little Drummer Boy

The overwhelming scream faded, and with it left his previously growing panic. Still, Princess or no, she was far less then the Harbor Demon tending to him, one that he deeply respected... But there was another feeling. A warm, sickly feeling that made him feel, happy? The only time he felt happy was either in his work or on the battlefield, so why now, when he wasn't fighting and was too panicked to continue his work?

Then he felt the gentle hand grasp around him, and his heart jumped. As the Harbor Demon looked over him, she could see where she had patched him up. The large holes of the battleship's shells were filled with black ichor, but were healing up fine, a few scratches here and there had to be disinfected, but were otherwise okay. But then there was the biggest wound on him, one that likely would have dominated most of her attention while he was in his care. One giant cut, going through and across the left shoulder to nearly through the right hip. Was there anymore force behind that blow, and Drummer surely would have been split in twain.

While the Harbor Demon inspected his injuries, Drummer was doing an inspection of his own, trying to get to the bottom of his happiness, when for all thats happened, he should be miserable and in pain. But thats the thing, he was in pain, but all he felt became numb around this demon. His mind raced to find an answer and it found one abruptly. He liked the Harbor Demon, perhaps even more than that. She was always there to help him no matter what, and she cared for him, unlike the kanmusu or even his own comrades. His sights were set on a new goal. A genuine relationship between demon and abyssal.

by **Jebslund** » Sat Dec 26, 2020 9:59 am

Wespennest and Mord
Once more into the breach

"Strike Carrier Wespennest and Escort Carrier Mord reporting as ordered, Ma'am.", Wespennest announced as she entered Glory's office, saluting, with Mord a step behind her and also saluting as she entered, "Thought you could use a pick-me-up as well, Ma'am.", she added, placing one of her tins of Prafferol, Kermanic energy chocolates made with kafferol levels of coffee such that they tasted more like coffee with notes of chocolate than chocolate with notes of coffee, on Glory's desk before standing at attention next to Mord.

by **Auruna** » Thu Jan 21, 2021 6:50 am

Karalinne
Docks
A new arrival from the north, entered an unfamiliar territory far from home. Karalinne was exhausted by her long journey to the base coupled with the fact that the climate is different than what she's used to. At least she has arrived safe and sound. She disconnects her rigging then steps onto the docks. Due to her exhaustion, she kneels down then takes off her scarf as it started to get a bit uncomfortable for her.

She then gets up then looks around, she takes it all in before stepping out of the docks. Everything was unfamiliar to her but still felt like home, it's going to be her new home anyway.

Still a bit exhausted, she wanders around, familiarising with the place. She almost gets lost while deep in thought in her first day.

"How do they do things here..? Is it different or just similar to what I'm used to?" She asks herself.

"I need to find out."

by **Offer Erapia** » Fri Feb 05, 2021 4:54 pm

Mordred, Glory's office

Mordred sat for a what seemed like an eternity. The only thing with her besides Caroline was the eerie and ominous clicking of the clocks hand. To be frank, it was torture. Not even a second later the knob of the door twisted and Glory stepped through. She took not even a step before a deep groan slipped past her lips and Mordred watched as she doubled over. She stood to help but by the time she got her rear off the seat Glory had already fixed her posture. Sitting at her chair, firing off a greeting and a question in the same sentence as she walked and did so.

Mordred cleared her throat obviously getting the hint that time was not on their side. "Yes, we want to volunteer for the upcoming mission. I can't stand being beached for so long." She explained her view of the situation whilst making sure to be respectful as to not agitate the weary looking leader. "Im am a capable vessel and Im just itching for a fight". She said letting a somewhat sadistic grin slip for a split second. Just as soon as it came it went hiding it behind a single, fake cough.

Caroline waited for Mordred to finish her short rant before she pitched in with her own. "I feel the same way Ma'am. And If my position as a carrier prevents that than at least let me be on island defense. My fighters are fast and well armed with long flight time." She said hoping the promising pro's would maybe persuade her finale decision. She, much like Mordred, had a thing for battle as a matter of fact it was the sole reason her flight deck had two inch steel plating.

She didn't see any problem with them not being put on the mission. More firepower the better right. But knowing the mission brief was minutes away they were both optimistic that she would say "why not" or "no problem". As the two Erapian ships waited for a response the damn clock started to become louder as the silence returned.

Down the Rabbit Hole - A Kancolle RP (IC)

Who is online