Of Ships and Girls and Shipgirls - a KanColle-RP (IC)

[The Selkie]

snip

"Aww! That wasn't fair!" Chrysantheme complained. "Yeah, how do we get Novaya feel better?!" Shiroiyuki complained. "If you complain, there won't be any movie nights." Shinosaki warned, her eyes shadowed as she pulls out her makeshift water gun. "Y-Yes. Gomen'nasai." The Novayan destroyer and cruiser began to dogeza/kowtow, apparently intimidated by Shinosaki herself. "Good! I knew you girls understand!" The Novayan battleship chirped. "But if you cause more trouble ONE more time, Coriolanus will punish you. Harshly." What Shinosaki said intimidated the poor two Novayan surface warships, who kept on kowtowing and apologizing.

snip

"Listen to what they say, or the Naval Base gets NOTHING. Understood?" Shinosaki said to the two Novayan naval surface warships. "Understood." The two said quietly. "What was that?" Shinosaki asked. "Understood." Chrysantheme and Shiroiyuki said, sweating while smiling. ANd kowtowing. "Good. At least we got something in common. Now stay in that kowtow position." Shinosaki said as she contacts all warships. "Anyone in the radio transmission, 'tis Shinosaki. It's time for movie night." Shinosaki spoke to all warships before talking to the three, "After this movie night, I'll be upgrading that film reel projector with a few or little materials."

Rhiannon. Scrap Shed.
I smiled as they seemed to understand, but shrugged at Shinosaki's words: "You'll have to talk with Prophet about that, he built it, after all.", I told her as her comrades were still kow-towing. "Speaking of which, where is Prophet?"
I looked around, where we stood, worry coming to my face, as I looked to Searc and Whona, hoping, that they had a reply. Search shook her head, putting bow and arrow (why did she have those out anyway?!) away with practiced ease.
"I only spotted a radar contact a bit away, not sure if that's your boyfriend.", she told me with a teasing smile.
I blushed, but before a protest could form in my mind about that, I realized, that he indeed was my boyfriend. It filled me with a huge bit of giddyness, as I grinned. "Thanks, Searc - mind minding the door?"
"Sure...", she replied and pointed in a direction.
And off I was, following her sign towards where she had spotted the radar contact, while Searc took over the door.
Problem, though: I do not have radar in my basic version.

[Kraicia]

-snip-

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Internals of Gibson Grover

“I believe my fellow shiremen (officers) had long told me the lay of the land (Kraician English Idiom for ‘Situation at hand’).” Captain Briggs greeted back while shaking the younger commander’s hand, “Wisly, I cannot hold you fellows any longer, so allow my sunderlyshiremen (specialists) to patch you in to your mothership. We’ll make this swift as possible, hopefully before your mothership makes us Holtlanders look crooked as some virginrick hedge (Kraician English version of the idiom, ‘Crooked as a Virginia Fence’).”

---

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Coastal Training Course

The SDF torpedo boats were an interesting temporal addition to Gibson’s arsenal, though that was not mention that he knew that they were not his ships of course. The SDF torpedo boat’s felt like wooden daggers compared to the steel and heavy T-15 torpedo boats. Both were diesel powered of course, though Gibson was in no way going to use the SDF torpedo boats when he returned to his native Atlantic waters in the home sweet Kraician archipelago.

Then, it occurred to him that the SDF crews wanted to get back home to their mothership, whom he believes is called SDFS Ámóg (according to the chatter between his captain and the SDF commanders with him). Though it wasn’t him that spoke through his radio set, rather it was the voice of the SDF commander on board that reported in their whereabouts and overall health. The commanders of the SDF were okay, even the crew that were rescued by the MB-52 helicopters said the same as well; however; Gibson had an uneasy feeling that the mothership in mind wasn’t exactly going to be instantly relieved of the rescue.

Gibson couldn’t exactly blame the mothership for overprotectiveness, since he had been in situations before where he had distraught shipboys/shipgirls confronting him over overboard crew members. During the Spanish Civil War, Gibson and his twin brother - Harper - were involved in limited humanitarian efforts in Spain, whom which landed the two Harper-Class amphibious assault ships involved in tending both Republican and Nationalist Spaniards. Unsurprising, like his twin brother, Gibson had his fair share of Spanish Kanmusus demanding to have their crew back; however, that only would’ve been so had the crews had not been defecting from Spain (Republican and Nationalist alike).

Words and cursing had been exchanged during that time, as so much was the tension for someone to pull the trigger on a then-neutral Kraicia. Neutral Mexican merchant ships had been involved, which only drew fuel to the fire since neither Spanish-speaking country liked each other; however, Gibson knew that Mexico only Spain since they were worried sick for their poor children and wives. Gibson never knew that Latinos and Spaniards would hate each other so much except for their future generation, though that didn’t exclude Gibson and his brother from constantly getting caught in the verbal shitstorms whenever they were providing refuge for defecting Republicans and Nationalists.

Now, this wasn’t going to possible suck, but it was just going to be another day at the office on humanitarian efforts...

[Yekrenia]

Comet, is what the ship was called in a previous setting, in a past life that he tried hard to forget. A dying breed of ships, his kind was. They were apparently never cut out for long term war, from what he remembered. A short term distraction, he had heard the humans say. Hell, even some captains who commanded those ships had said the same. Pieces of scrap with temporary use; they'd never survive. Well, now he will show them wrong.

The anger was what fueled Comet to continue onwards. It's what kept his engines running. In a metaphorical sense, of course. No amount of emotion could keep an engine running, obviously. If anger could run a boat he'd have an infinite amount of fuel. Though, that didn't matter at the moment. It wasn't time to think of hypotheticals.

He was on a mission to guard this convoy, and failure was not going to be an option, of course. He wouldn't accept failure himself. He needed to prove himself. Sure, he may have no armor; he may be incredibly fragile, but that doesn't mean he can't do the job other big ships could do! A Destroyer or Cruiser's got nothing on him!

It seemed like now would be his time to prove his worth, as well. Someone was shooting at them. An incredibly old ship, actually. Dead in the water, nothing more than a sitting duck who was trying to play up against the big boys, really. Though, her shots almost hit the NMS Comet multiple times. She was a bit of a problem, but it didn't seem like it could move.

"Well, ain't that just priceless," Comet muttered to himself with a chuckle. Something grew within him, and his mind slowly drifted away. No longer did he think about the mission, but instead about this ship. This ship was going to get the full blow of his forces. Already plans were swirling around in his head. His fleet wasn't that great, with only a few heavy ships, a submarine and another support ship like himself, though from a completely different country he could not identify.

Leading them wouldn't be hard, though. He already had a plan. Comet, the sub and the other supported move towards the ship with the other heavier, more armed ships provide covering fire. It was simple enough, really. He doubted this ship could do much.

"Hey, Heavies, give us covering fire!" He shouted as he looked to the other two ships. He had to remember their names.... "Starboard, Anchor, follow me. We're going to give this lady a little taste of hell." Starboard and Anchor, ugh. Who would name their ships after parts of a ship? That lacks creativity.

Either way, the smaller ships had set full speed ahead, while the larger ones began firing shells at her, though it seemed like their aim wasn't the best, that was for sure. Meanwhile, Comet tried to get into range, going past his other two ships thanks to his speed. Once he had gotten close enough, the guns had started up and began to shoot bullet after bullet into the Lanza Blanca.

Comet couldn't help but laugh as he pelted the side of the ship with bullets. No, the ones that made contact weren't causing much damage, but it would probably cause problems for her once the bigger ships learned how to aim correctly. Though, soon after the bullets had started flying, Comet stopped himself. Wait, he couldn't do this right now! He had a...he had a job to do. Failure was not an option!

"Fall back! Fall back right now!" He had shouted after there were a few seconds of firing at the sitting duck of a ship. He wasn't sure how many shots hit, but he was sure a few of them did, at least. With that being said, Comet took a sudden turn and went back to the convoy. "She's not worth our time, get back to the convoy!"

Dammit, he had let his pride get the best of him. He had thought he could just leave the convoy unprotected and go out fighting ships? That's just idiocy. He needed to protect this thing. The ship can come later. Besides, that hit and run was sure to do some damage to her, at least. Though,he was probably just telling himself that to make him feel better.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Western Area of Sector CN-17

¿Qué demonios es esto? ¿Un pequeño demonio tratando de demostrar su valía? Madre de Dios, estoy decepcionado tanto como me molesta encontrar estos demonios demasiado cobardes para enfrentarme a mí aparte de un pequeño demonio.

“No huyas de mí, pequeño Satán. (Don’t you run from me, little Satan.)” I growled darkly, seeing that pinché pequeño príncipe abisal run away like a coward from his foolish stranding run.

Those shells of his were tiny and pointless - unsurprisingly coming from a forest of QF 1-pounder Guns. What was expecting to do other than tear my AA batteries apart; annoy the hell out of my duendes? His facial expressions felt that way...

So, no point in wasting my main batteries against this fool. Rather, I let my 5in gun turrets and my remaining QF 2-Pounder Naval Guns do that job instead. My rain-soaked duendes rushed to their battle stations amid the destruction before pandemonium erupted.

The remaining British-Made QF 2-Pounder Naval Guns (‘Pom-Poms’) I had erupted like a wall of fire, coupled with my 5in naval guns firing upon that tiny speed demon of an abyssal. There’s no point in wasting my blade to beheading a speed demon anyway.

My blade and shield would rather be for the worthy foes who decide to face me like a true warrior. Certainly there could be submarines and torpedo boats wanting to make a fool me, though that would only mean their heads being removed from their shoulders.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

"Oh, now she's bloody shooting at us," Comet muttered as he sped past his companions, who were just barely dodging the fire coming from the bigger ship. The little ones had to be careful. One hit and they would sink, considering their lack of armor, which was practically a necessity of they wanted to keep up with Comet in the slightest.

"You Heavies better provide covering fire. I'm not going to sink out here by a sitting duck!" With that said, the two heavier ships would also slowly float back to the convoy, but still shoot at the enemy ship, aiming wildly in an attempt to hit. "You're hardout terrible shots! No wonder you've got such a bad streak with everyone. You can't hit a ship if it was right in front of your eyes, could you?"

"We're trying out best, sir!" Shouted one of the heavies. What was her name? Starstruck? Something ridiculous like that. It didn't seem like Comet cared for her plight, though, as he just responded with more agitation.

"I don't care if you're trying your best! Do better, and shoot that thing down! Or at least provide covering fire. It's your heads on the line here." Though, even then, many shots that were heading towards the heavies were hitting, and they seemed to be getting weaker, for sure.

[Yekrenia]

"Oh, now she's bloody shooting at us," Comet muttered as he sped past his companions, who were just barely dodging the fire coming from the bigger ship. The little ones had to be careful. One hit and they would sink, considering their lack of armor, which was practically a necessity of they wanted to keep up with Comet in the slightest.

"You Heavies better provide covering fire. I'm not going to sink out here by a sitting duck!" With that said, the two heavier ships would also slowly float back to the convoy, but still shoot at the enemy ship, aiming wildly in an attempt to hit. "You're hardout terrible shots! No wonder you've got such a bad streak with everyone. You can't hit a ship if it was right in front of your eyes, could you?"

"We're trying out best, sir!" Shouted one of the heavies. What was her name? Starstruck? Something ridiculous like that. It didn't seem like Comet cared for her plight, though, as he just responded with more agitation.

"I don't care if you're trying your best! Do better, and shoot that thing down! Or at least provide covering fire. It's your heads on the line here." Though, even then, many shots that were heading towards the heavies were hitting, and they seemed to be getting weaker, for sure.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Western Area of Sector CN-17

Amid the firing of my 5in guns and QF 2-Pounders ('Pom-Poms'), my 16.7in main batteries fired again at any of the larger abyssals I can see among the darkness and rain alike. Without radar, it was difficult already to tell where my shots were landing.

That cowardly abyssal prince decided to do the most dishonorably - though smartest - decision by fleeing from a worthy foe like me. Such a shame that his eyes were bigger than his metaphorical stomach - one that craved glory and combat experience.

Unfortunately, he was too small and pathetic to put up a decent fight anyway on his own. Such a shame for him, though his fellow amigos were no better. I am woefully disappointed by their inaccuracy; however, that's not to say that it was raining.

From a distant explosion moments after firing my 16.7in guns, I can tell that I scored another hit - my other shell either landing in the water or failing to detonate somewhere. In the meantime, the enemy shells continued to bounce off or land short.

These abismos were either in a hurry to kill me or they couldn't see mierda absoluta bajo el nombre de los testículos de alto voltaje de Zeus. If it was the former, then this is an utter disgrace for these so-called, Abyssals.

I was expecting some frightening hijas de satanás to come forth and challenge me. Better yet, I was expecting them to also try and scare me, which would've been amusing for me. After all, I was forged in pain so that I can make worthy gains in battle.

The farther and farther that cowardly abyssal prince got, the more I can only nod in a disappointment. Certainly, I was stranded with no coal left - I'm an easy target for a night patrol. Has my prestige caught up to them earlier or so?

I guess the enemy has already gain some intelligence on me prior to this untimely night battle. First the telegram regarding my transfer, and now maybe my reputation as the invincible lady. Maybe these diablos were smart, but that doesn't rid their cowardice.

Now, another salvo from my 16.7in guns fired again, this time I wasn't so fortunate. No explosions followed in the distance, which only told that I had either missed or my munitions were failing to explode. Either way, this battle's outcome was unclear.

One modernized pre-dreadnaught like myself against a confused and possible incompetent abyssal fleet? What is going so wrong from them to sink just one battleship? Better yet, if they aren't running away from my prestige, then where are they cowering off to?

Bueno, estaría condenado si solo me están jugando como un tonto corriendo y luego volviendo. Si ese es el caso, entonces tal vez no sean tan cobardes. Más bien son enemigos inteligentes, pero incomprensibles por su inexactitud.

[The Selkie]

Red Leader, 8th SDF-Navy Air Squadron. Light Cruiser Dorms.
The weather was getting worse and worse, preventing them from flying - they still had a mission, though, the three fairies manning the torpedo bomber known as Red Leader... which had fallen out of the sky with engine trouble the day before, so they couldn't fly to begin with and taking a plane from their fellow air crews was considered bad sport.
Still, Rhiannon had given them a mission and they planned to fulfill it.
So, improvisation: Their mission was to go to the Light Cruiser Dorms and to relay a message from Rhiannon to Brightbell, so they needed to get there and quickly. The solution were a friend at 3 Horse, the SDF-Army Regiment on base, who provided them with mounts, three brave steeds, which even helped them in surmounting the stairs leading up to the second level, helped them outrun an angry ant, helped them overcome quite a few obstacles - which would make for an awesome story, but this is not the thread for it.
So, standing in front of the door to the dorm room, which housed Brightbell, there was one last obstacle... how to enter? Knocking, sure, but would their little hands make a sound loud enough to be heard? Only one way to find out... although they did hesitate, as the music coming from the room was simply devine, as if Abhcan herself, be it the actual Goddess of Music and Dance or the light cruiser named in her honour, came to play music, that made the heart throb as it wanted to dance.
The pilot, who was more used to flying then to riding, knocked on the door with all his little might anyway - duty first, fun later.

-snip-

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Internals of Gibson Grover

“I believe my fellow shiremen (officers) had long told me the lay of the land (Kraician English Idiom for ‘Situation at hand’).” Captain Briggs greeted back while shaking the younger commander’s hand, “Wisly, I cannot hold you fellows any longer, so allow my sunderlyshiremen (specialists) to patch you in to your mothership. We’ll make this swift as possible, hopefully before your mothership makes us Holtlanders look crooked as some virginrick hedge (Kraician English version of the idiom, ‘Crooked as a Virginia Fence’).”

---

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Coastal Training Course

The SDF torpedo boats were an interesting temporal addition to Gibson’s arsenal, though that was not mention that he knew that they were not his ships of course. The SDF torpedo boat’s felt like wooden daggers compared to the steel and heavy T-15 torpedo boats. Both were diesel powered of course, though Gibson was in no way going to use the SDF torpedo boats when he returned to his native Atlantic waters in the home sweet Kraician archipelago.

Then, it occurred to him that the SDF crews wanted to get back home to their mothership, whom he believes is called SDFS Ámóg (according to the chatter between his captain and the SDF commanders with him). Though it wasn’t him that spoke through his radio set, rather it was the voice of the SDF commander on board that reported in their whereabouts and overall health. The commanders of the SDF were okay, even the crew that were rescued by the MB-52 helicopters said the same as well; however; Gibson had an uneasy feeling that the mothership in mind wasn’t exactly going to be instantly relieved of the rescue.

Gibson couldn’t exactly blame the mothership for overprotectiveness, since he had been in situations before where he had distraught shipboys/shipgirls confronting him over overboard crew members. During the Spanish Civil War, Gibson and his twin brother - Harper - were involved in limited humanitarian efforts in Spain, whom which landed the two Harper-Class amphibious assault ships involved in tending both Republican and Nationalist Spaniards. Unsurprising, like his twin brother, Gibson had his fair share of Spanish Kanmusus demanding to have their crew back; however, that only would’ve been so had the crews had not been defecting from Spain (Republican and Nationalist alike).

Words and cursing had been exchanged during that time, as so much was the tension for someone to pull the trigger on a then-neutral Kraicia. Neutral Mexican merchant ships had been involved, which only drew fuel to the fire since neither Spanish-speaking country liked each other; however, Gibson knew that Mexico only Spain since they were worried sick for their poor children and wives. Gibson never knew that Latinos and Spaniards would hate each other so much except for their future generation, though that didn’t exclude Gibson and his brother from constantly getting caught in the verbal shitstorms whenever they were providing refuge for defecting Republicans and Nationalists.

Now, this wasn’t going to possible suck, but it was just going to be another day at the office on humanitarian efforts...

Amy. On the way to retrieve her torpedo boats.
The call had come quite unexpectedly, so I had to say goodbye to any hope of whiskey or similar potent brews to wash away the bonkersness of the Novayans - my torpedo boats had been in trouble and I hadn't been there to help them!
What kind of mother was I?!
One who left her torpedo boats hanging, that's the kind... still, relief filled me as I heard, that they were all alright, rescued by our allies. The Commander of the small group, Commander Taisme, hurried to explain, that it was their fault and not the one of their rescuers, that they goofed up, to say the least and that he, as the officer in charge, would take full responsibility.
They knew, that an upset Mommy Amy was a Mommy Amy, that made rash decisions she later regretted.
Still, my face was hard as I steamed over the training grounds at full speed, my impressive top speed of 15 knots on full display. I ignored the call to the makeshift cinema, this was more important, I did not pull my jacket tighter around me, instead letting it flutter behind me, swimsuit on full display.
I put on a neutral, steeled face as I steamed towards Gibson Grover, waving from a distance and speaking into my radio to my fellow support vessel: "SDFS Ámóg, HLFFS Gibson Grover - on a few words, please. Don't worry, I'll not rip your head off."
Or I'll try to., I added in thoughts.

"Oh, now she's bloody shooting at us," Comet muttered as he sped past his companions, who were just barely dodging the fire coming from the bigger ship. The little ones had to be careful. One hit and they would sink, considering their lack of armor, which was practically a necessity of they wanted to keep up with Comet in the slightest.

"You Heavies better provide covering fire. I'm not going to sink out here by a sitting duck!" With that said, the two heavier ships would also slowly float back to the convoy, but still shoot at the enemy ship, aiming wildly in an attempt to hit. "You're hardout terrible shots! No wonder you've got such a bad streak with everyone. You can't hit a ship if it was right in front of your eyes, could you?"

"We're trying out best, sir!" Shouted one of the heavies. What was her name? Starstruck? Something ridiculous like that. It didn't seem like Comet cared for her plight, though, as he just responded with more agitation.

"I don't care if you're trying your best! Do better, and shoot that thing down! Or at least provide covering fire. It's your heads on the line here." Though, even then, many shots that were heading towards the heavies were hitting, and they seemed to be getting weaker, for sure.

Convoy. High Seas.
Battleships did not need to fear anything tonight - it rained too much, no plane could take off, no Abyssal one, no Kanmusu one. So, battleships did not need to fear anything.
They were, as they were supposed to be, the rulers of the sea.
Now, if they had a battleship, that would have been awesome, Wafa thought - the Wa-class Transport Flagship of one of the other screening forces of the convoy, a destroyer squadron of three Late I-class Destroyers primarily for ASW and three Basic Ni-class Destroyers for surface vessels, watched the exchange of fire from afar, keeping her position as the battleship lunged after the Prince...
[My Prince, this is Wafa - do you need assistance?], she transmitted to him. She might only be a transport, but she was a flagship, a tender to a destroyer squadron - not a battleship, but she'd have to make do.
After all, the Convoy's safety had absolute priority, this battleship-whore, whoever she was, threatened it and a part of the convoy's screen - she needed to sink.

[Sterkistan]

-SNIP-

---

Battleship Diamantina
Battleship Dorms | Womens

---

Dia turned her head slightly as Stilly approached, and was about to say something before being abruptly pulled into a gentle hug. With Stilly wrapping her arms around me and burying her face into my stomach.
Dia smiled softly as she looked down at the small Sloop, trying her very best to comfort the Battleship.
"Thank you Stilly. I couldn't ask for a better friend"
Tears welled in her eyes and she curled over, laying her head on Stilly's shoulder, before bawling her eyes out.

---

-SNIP-

---

Battleship Whona
Supply Shed

---

Whona was midway through the start of an answer to Searc, when she also picked up the targets coming from the supply shed. Drawing her own sword in a defensive stance.
Whona turned her head, noticing the affront to God himself staring at her from a hiding place, which she found easily enough with her surface radar.
"What are you staring at. Don't you look at me." She snapped, sheathing her sword following an elegant twirl
It appeared as though the events earlier had become little more than petty anger. Prophet was forgettable like that.
She smiled over at Rhiannon as she stuttered over her name, it was normal. Most people think of Diamantina when they see a Diamantium-Class.
"Whona, I'm Whona." She responded, her tone indicating no offence was taken.
"Dia is well, last I saw. We're just here to acquire some drinks, the strong ones. And I've heard you're pretty keen at seeking out the stashes."

[Higher Japan]

Higashikawa, closing in on abyssal strike force

"T-This storm, really is something." He muttered to himself, shielding his eyes during the storm as the two radars on his headband spun fast as it began to search for the battleship that had been supposedly ambushed by an abyssal fleet. "Woah there!" He said, quickly catching onto one of the fairies who had almost fallen off of his rigging as he quickly placed it back inside before ensuring that all the needed compartments were locked down. "Battleship sighted, Abyssals ahead, prepare for combat!" As he said this, he quickly raised up his carried armament, a rifle like item with 3 10 cm units aboard. Once he had taken aim, a full salvo of 20.3 cm shells had flew towards the abyssals followed by 10 cm shells as he called out to the battleship running. "Hey you! Follow me back to base!" Once within range, he made a hard turn as he fired off his torpedo armament towards the battleships.

[Mestovakia]

Re Class Battleship

"I can barely see anything!" Hime heard her hapless Re Class complaining about 2 metres to her right...or left....In this violent storm, they couldn't quite tell where anyone was. "Re, where's the rest of the fleet?" Hime asked, shouting so she could be heard over the howling wind. "I dunno! I think we got seperated a while back. Want me to go look for them?" Re shouted back, before eating a wave head-on. She emerged from it, soaking wet and cursing her head off as she spat out salt water.

About an hour later, a very dejected and frustrated Abyssal Battleship was still in the violent part of the storm, trying to figure out where the rest of her fleet had gotten to. The rain had lessened a bit, so Re could see clearly now. She wasn't in any mood for combat. She just wanted somewhere warm and cozy to sleep, as this storm was sapping her energy big time. Her Rigging wasn't prepared for Combat, as she was too tired to keep it on standby. Then she heard cannonfire in the distance. "I guess one of our allied Fleets got into a bit of a disagreement." Re muttered, right before she collided with Higashikawa.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Red Leader, 8th SDF-Navy Air Squadron. Light Cruiser Dorms.
The weather was getting worse and worse, preventing them from flying - they still had a mission, though, the three fairies manning the torpedo bomber known as Red Leader... which had fallen out of the sky with engine trouble the day before, so they couldn't fly to begin with and taking a plane from their fellow air crews was considered bad sport.
Still, Rhiannon had given them a mission and they planned to fulfill it.
So, improvisation: Their mission was to go to the Light Cruiser Dorms and to relay a message from Rhiannon to Brightbell, so they needed to get there and quickly. The solution were a friend at 3 Horse, the SDF-Army Regiment on base, who provided them with mounts, three brave steeds, which even helped them in surmounting the stairs leading up to the second level, helped them outrun an angry ant, helped them overcome quite a few obstacles - which would make for an awesome story, but this is not the thread for it.
So, standing in front of the door to the dorm room, which housed Brightbell, there was one last obstacle... how to enter? Knocking, sure, but would their little hands make a sound loud enough to be heard? Only one way to find out... although they did hesitate, as the music coming from the room was simply devine, as if Abhcan herself, be it the actual Goddess of Music and Dance or the light cruiser named in her honour, came to play music, that made the heart throb as it wanted to dance.
The pilot, who was more used to flying then to riding, knocked on the door with all his little might anyway - duty first, fun later.

[spoiler=Kraicia-Quote]

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Internals of Gibson Grover

“I believe my fellow shiremen (officers) had long told me the lay of the land (Kraician English Idiom for ‘Situation at hand’).” Captain Briggs greeted back while shaking the younger commander’s hand, “Wisly, I cannot hold you fellows any longer, so allow my sunderlyshiremen (specialists) to patch you in to your mothership. We’ll make this swift as possible, hopefully before your mothership makes us Holtlanders look crooked as some virginrick hedge (Kraician English version of the idiom, ‘Crooked as a Virginia Fence’).”

---

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Coastal Training Course

The SDF torpedo boats were an interesting temporal addition to Gibson’s arsenal, though that was not mention that he knew that they were not his ships of course. The SDF torpedo boat’s felt like wooden daggers compared to the steel and heavy T-15 torpedo boats. Both were diesel powered of course, though Gibson was in no way going to use the SDF torpedo boats when he returned to his native Atlantic waters in the home sweet Kraician archipelago.

Then, it occurred to him that the SDF crews wanted to get back home to their mothership, whom he believes is called SDFS Ámóg (according to the chatter between his captain and the SDF commanders with him). Though it wasn’t him that spoke through his radio set, rather it was the voice of the SDF commander on board that reported in their whereabouts and overall health. The commanders of the SDF were okay, even the crew that were rescued by the MB-52 helicopters said the same as well; however; Gibson had an uneasy feeling that the mothership in mind wasn’t exactly going to be instantly relieved of the rescue.

Gibson couldn’t exactly blame the mothership for overprotectiveness, since he had been in situations before where he had distraught shipboys/shipgirls confronting him over overboard crew members. During the Spanish Civil War, Gibson and his twin brother - Harper - were involved in limited humanitarian efforts in Spain, whom which landed the two Harper-Class amphibious assault ships involved in tending both Republican and Nationalist Spaniards. Unsurprising, like his twin brother, Gibson had his fair share of Spanish Kanmusus demanding to have their crew back; however, that only would’ve been so had the crews had not been defecting from Spain (Republican and Nationalist alike).

Words and cursing had been exchanged during that time, as so much was the tension for someone to pull the trigger on a then-neutral Kraicia. Neutral Mexican merchant ships had been involved, which only drew fuel to the fire since neither Spanish-speaking country liked each other; however, Gibson knew that Mexico only Spain since they were worried sick for their poor children and wives. Gibson never knew that Latinos and Spaniards would hate each other so much except for their future generation, though that didn’t exclude Gibson and his brother from constantly getting caught in the verbal shitstorms whenever they were providing refuge for defecting Republicans and Nationalists.

Now, this wasn’t going to possible suck, but it was just going to be another day at the office on humanitarian efforts...

Amy. On the way to retrieve her torpedo boats.
The call had come quite unexpectedly, so I had to say goodbye to any hope of whiskey or similar potent brews to wash away the bonkersness of the Novayans - my torpedo boats had been in trouble and I hadn't been there to help them!
What kind of mother was I?!
One who left her torpedo boats hanging, that's the kind... still, relief filled me as I heard, that they were all alright, rescued by our allies. The Commander of the small group, Commander Taisme, hurried to explain, that it was their fault and not the one of their rescuers, that they goofed up, to say the least and that he, as the officer in charge, would take full responsibility.
They knew, that an upset Mommy Amy was a Mommy Amy, that made rash decisions she later regretted.
Still, my face was hard as I steamed over the training grounds at full speed, my impressive top speed of 15 knots on full display. I ignored the call to the makeshift cinema, this was more important, I did not pull my jacket tighter around me, instead letting it flutter behind me, swimsuit on full display.
I put on a neutral, steeled face as I steamed towards Gibson Grover, waving from a distance and speaking into my radio to my fellow support vessel: "SDFS Ámóg, HLFFS Gibson Grover - on a few words, please. Don't worry, I'll not rip your head off."
Or I'll try to., I added in thoughts.

[spoiler=ASO-Quote]

"Oh, now she's bloody shooting at us," Comet muttered as he sped past his companions, who were just barely dodging the fire coming from the bigger ship. The little ones had to be careful. One hit and they would sink, considering their lack of armor, which was practically a necessity of they wanted to keep up with Comet in the slightest.

"You Heavies better provide covering fire. I'm not going to sink out here by a sitting duck!" With that said, the two heavier ships would also slowly float back to the convoy, but still shoot at the enemy ship, aiming wildly in an attempt to hit. "You're hardout terrible shots! No wonder you've got such a bad streak with everyone. You can't hit a ship if it was right in front of your eyes, could you?"

"We're trying out best, sir!" Shouted one of the heavies. What was her name? Starstruck? Something ridiculous like that. It didn't seem like Comet cared for her plight, though, as he just responded with more agitation.

"I don't care if you're trying your best! Do better, and shoot that thing down! Or at least provide covering fire. It's your heads on the line here." Though, even then, many shots that were heading towards the heavies were hitting, and they seemed to be getting weaker, for sure.

Convoy. High Seas.
Battleships did not need to fear anything tonight - it rained too much, no plane could take off, no Abyssal one, no Kanmusu one. So, battleships did not need to fear anything.
They were, as they were supposed to be, the rulers of the sea.
Now, if they had a battleship, that would have been awesome, Wafa thought - the Wa-class Transport Flagship of one of the other screening forces of the convoy, a destroyer squadron of three Late I-class Destroyers primarily for ASW and three Basic Ni-class Destroyers for surface vessels, watched the exchange of fire from afar, keeping her position as the battleship lunged after the Prince...
[My Prince, this is Wafa - do you need assistance?], she transmitted to him. She might only be a transport, but she was a flagship, a tender to a destroyer squadron - not a battleship, but she'd have to make do.
After all, the Convoy's safety had absolute priority, this battleship-whore, whoever she was, threatened it and a part of the convoy's screen - she needed to sink.

"If you could shoot down that damn ship, that'd be fantastic," Comet said through gritted teeth as he followed alongside the convoy now, his battleships slowly closing in behind him with a look of shame and disappointment. Understandably so, sometimes Comet's words can cut deep. "The ships I brought were clearly not fit for the job, something that I'll see too later. Either way, if you think you could help me bring this wench down, then I'd be willing to go for another run." He didn't want this ship to escape him.

"Sir," one of the smaller ships, Anchor, had said, "I think we should just stick to protecting the convoy. I'd love to go give her a piece of my mind, but it's not our main objective."

"Well I'm making it our objective, then!" Comet shook his head. "As far as I understand, as long as she's in firing distance, she's a danger to the convoy, so taking her down should be our priority!"

Comet then turned back to Wafa and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'd appreciate the help," he said with a newfound calmness. He needed to be polite if he wanted any help at all. "Do you think can go up against this munter? I'm up for another round of hit and run."

[Yekrenia]

Higashikawa, closing in on abyssal strike force

"T-This storm, really is something." He muttered to himself, shielding his eyes during the storm as the two radars on his headband spun fast as it began to search for the battleship that had been supposedly ambushed by an abyssal fleet. "Woah there!" He said, quickly catching onto one of the fairies who had almost fallen off of his rigging as he quickly placed it back inside before ensuring that all the needed compartments were locked down. "Battleship sighted, Abyssals ahead, prepare for combat!" As he said this, he quickly raised up his carried armament, a rifle like item with 3 10 cm units aboard. Once he had taken aim, a full salvo of 20.3 cm shells had flew towards the abyssals followed by 10 cm shells as he called out to the battleship running. "Hey you! Follow me back to base!" Once within range, he made a hard turn as he fired off his torpedo armament towards the battleships.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Western Area of Sector CN-17

That cowardly abyssal prince was now far off for me to continue raining down my 'Pom-Poms' and 5in guns. Though despite the absence of the tiny pest, my duendes stayed at their post, itching to shoot anything tiny like that prince.

Dios Mio, could this night be any more disappointing? Certainly, the battleships had made their presence clear, but I can only feel the wrath of their main batteries raining down upon me with surprising inaccuracy. Have they befallen to the rain too?

With that kind of inaccuracy, I am certain that the rain has scrambled their radars as well. If that's not the case, then I am lead to believe that they're trying to shoot at me so that I can flee and become bait - subsequently leading those diablos to the base.

Si ese es el caso, entonces han cometido un error crítico. It's only a matter of time that those hijas de satanás discover that I'm stranded in the water - I have no coal left to get me out of danger. I am virtually a sitting armored duck.

But suddenly, as my 16.7in guns unleashed another salvo downrange, some of my duendes went all loco with some new information. They were holding binoculars as they held them away from their eyes and shouted:

"¡Nuevo contacto! Clasificación desconocida!"

I looked around with only my eyes - refusing to take my sights off the abyssal fleet's location. Then, there was only a bittersweet sight that provided partial relief. There approaching me was something other than abyssal...

A male 'kanmusu' of course, which looked like a cruiser classification. Then again, I wondered why my duendes were freaking out? Maybe it was the chaos and pandemonium that instilled panic amongst my souls on board...

Nevertheless, I had to urge my crew to sostener los caballos and let this new friendly contact approach me. He certainly carried a Japanese presence, so I wager that he is of the IJN is suppose. How about that, a samurai coming to the aid of a knight?

Knights and samurais had fate as much as they lived and died by their own swords. One was loyal to the Emperor and the other to the church and king alike. One was able to carry a lance on horseback while the other could be an archer and swordsman at once.

I can sense that warrior blood among that male 'kanmusu' and his duendes on board, even if they're rushing to my aid. Unfortunately, while he never gave me his name, he only shouted out some rather futile instructions:

"Hey you! Follow me back to base!"

"Lo siento, eso no puede suceder. (Sorry, that can't happen.)" I nodded back almost as bluntly as I carried my thick Argentinean-Chilean Spanish accent, "I am...stranded. No coal left, señor."

Another sound of my 16.7in guns sounded off again, this time raining two direct hits on some of the abyssals out there that I can hardly see. Whoever this savior was to me, he better call for more reinforcements or he's going have to tow me.

Then again, I highly doubt that a cruiser class like that male 'kanmusu' can tug me along. Soy 52,561 toneladas de acero español forjado de los mejores herreros elegidos por dios. I better hope the cruiser realizes that, or he'll end up straining his engines.

The only other option is to wait for reinforcements to arrive and give me a tow, or call a collier. Either way, I earned the extra protection and escort, but that is only useless when I'm stranded...

[The Selkie]

-SNIP-

---

Battleship Diamantina
Battleship Dorms | Womens

---

Dia turned her head slightly as Stilly approached, and was about to say something before being abruptly pulled into a gentle hug. With Stilly wrapping her arms around me and burying her face into my stomach.
Dia smiled softly as she looked down at the small Sloop, trying her very best to comfort the Battleship.
"Thank you Stilly. I couldn't ask for a better friend"
Tears welled in her eyes and she curled over, laying her head on Stilly's shoulder, before bawling her eyes out.

---

-SNIP-

---

Battleship Whona
Supply Shed

---

Whona was midway through the start of an answer to Searc, when she also picked up the targets coming from the supply shed. Drawing her own sword in a defensive stance.
Whona turned her head, noticing the affront to God himself staring at her from a hiding place, which she found easily enough with her surface radar.
"What are you staring at. Don't you look at me." She snapped, sheathing her sword following an elegant twirl
It appeared as though the events earlier had become little more than petty anger. Prophet was forgettable like that.
She smiled over at Rhiannon as she stuttered over her name, it was normal. Most people think of Diamantina when they see a Diamantium-Class.
"Whona, I'm Whona." She responded, her tone indicating no offence was taken.
"Dia is well, last I saw. We're just here to acquire some drinks, the strong ones. And I've heard you're pretty keen at seeking out the stashes."

Stilly. Battleship Dorms.
Funny how things change... not even half a day ago, I had bawled my eyes out, in her arms, now she bawled her eyes out in my arms. That was not funny.
Still, I held her tight, close, her head on my shoulder, her crying in my ear. I held her close, arms around her neck and comforting words leaving my mouth, telling her, that she could cry, should cry, letting it all out... all the grief and anger and hate and all the other things she had bottled up until she burst...
I felt a misplaced sense of pride welling up in my chest: I was the one she entrusted her weakness to, the moment she was at her lowest. But I also wanted to help her, with all my heart and all my mind, so I held her, when she was down and let her cry into my shoulder. I wanted her to know, that she could depend on me, the little sloop...
It was all easier when we were just steel, welded together... but then, in my steelen career, I had never met Mister Fyodor and Gibson and Whona and Miss Dia...
I'd have to ask Rhiannon and Searc and Mommy Amy about what to do - they always knew the answers to the complicated things. And they's be able to help me help Miss Dia.

Rhiannon. By the Scrap Shed.
"Nice to meet you, Whona.", I said and turned on the spot bowing my head lightly in a gesture of respect towards the battleship. "I'm indeed Rhiannon, name ship of the Rhiannon-class Light Cruisers. As for the good stuff..."
I was right there in front of her a moment later, motioning her to come down so I could whisper something into her ear. I whispered with an expression serious and full of gravitas: "...lassie, I'm not keen at it, I own them. Submarine Pens, cellar, eight door to the right. Take Searc with you and tell her, that the Nocht are parading. This time is on the house!"
I left her with a cheery and wide smile, much more in line with what I usually showed.
"Alright, then, have a nice evening, Whona!", I said, "If you'd excuse me, please, I need to find a carrier!"

"If you could shoot down that damn ship, that'd be fantastic," Comet said through gritted teeth as he followed alongside the convoy now, his battleships slowly closing in behind him with a look of shame and disappointment. Understandably so, sometimes Comet's words can cut deep. "The ships I brought were clearly not fit for the job, something that I'll see too later. Either way, if you think you could help me bring this wench down, then I'd be willing to go for another run." He didn't want this ship to escape him.

"Sir," one of the smaller ships, Anchor, had said, "I think we should just stick to protecting the convoy. I'd love to go give her a piece of my mind, but it's not our main objective."

"Well I'm making it our objective, then!" Comet shook his head. "As far as I understand, as long as she's in firing distance, she's a danger to the convoy, so taking her down should be our priority!"

Comet then turned back to Wafa and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'd appreciate the help," he said with a newfound calmness. He needed to be polite if he wanted any help at all. "Do you think can go up against this munter? I'm up for another round of hit and run."

Convoy Battle.
This was getting more and more complicated, Wafa thought, with her Prince's force on retreat and the convoy in danger in all that blasted rain... the only good thing was, that they at least didn't need to watch out for enemy aircraft dive bombing from above.
And neither did the enemy have to.
As it was, Wafa's reply was simple: [It will be done, Prince. If your Highness could launch on another attack run, please, while we start?]
And start they did: First was a relentless hailstorm of 5inch-shells and a few 6inch-shells from Wafa herself raining down onto the enemy, all of them guided by the radar of a battleship destroyer deep within the convoy, who herself was out of artillery range - but her radar was not. The ammunition wasn't normal high-explosive either, but incendiary ammunition. Nitrocellulose was a wonderful stuff, when filled into shells, because even under water, it would not go out, no matter what happened.
Wafa and her destroyers had no illusions, even their armour-piercing ammunition would not be able to do something against the battleship and its escort, a cruiser of some kind, so setting them on fire was a good start for the day. Not the solution to the problem, but a step in the right direction, if one asked her.
And while that happened, her three Ni-class Destroyers prepared their short-range 21inch early model torpedoes, in triple mounts and swivel-mounted as well. Those were the weapons, that would destroy the enemy. That all made them look like a formation of early, simple I-class Destroyers, not worth any shells, while the bigger targets were coming closer...
...and while they came close enough to use the torpedoes.

[Sleet Clans]

As Nevlamas and Whitney sailed south, the Sleetavian took notice of the absence of Tokai, who the two were supposed to be meeting up with. Then again, they could always press onwards without the cruiser. A surface warship would give their position away while attacking a convoy after all, and the last thing Nevlamas wanted was for the enemy to be aware of their positions before she had even flushed her tubes! At this point, the Tyskou-class was cruising submerged, looking through her periscope when she saw a glint of...something. Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a number of things: Higashikawa and another unidentified battleship lobbing shell after shell at a number of Abyssal warships, including several Abyssal battleships. Upon seeing this, a feral grin came across Nevlamas's face. It was hunting time, and she was sure Whitney would have no qualms when it came to sending some of the heavier vessels of the Abyssal scourge to the bottom!

She wanted to co-ordinate their first torpedo salvo however, to make it more effective and not waste torpedoes on already-dead targets. The Sleetavian waited for an acknowledgement from Whitney of her torpedoes also being ready, while opening her own tubes and going to silent running....

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

"Alright, we're going back for another attack, and this time this is going to work. He airs, you stay close to us and provide covering fire, and I know it's raining, but try to hit something, dear god."

The boat would do a sudden turn back towards the Lanza Blanca and begin to charge once more, going fullspeed and leaving the other two ships in his dust, and they had to scramble to be able to catch up the the Abyssal Prince. As soon as the Lanza Blanca was within range, the crew of the NMS Comet started to fire upon her. They still proved to be more annoying than damaging, but with enough bullets anything can go down.

"Alright, you bloody munter," Comet muttered to himself as he watched his two smaller ships approach. Anchor, the submarine, didn't have much in terms of weapons; an anti-air gun and one small torpedo launcher, while Starboard, the other support, only had a single machine gun. They'd had to make do, though. "Let's go for a second round, eh?"

"Fire!" The other two ships fired their weapons, the bigger ones still trying to aim at the Lanza Blanca, and doing a better job at it this time. Yes! Okay, this was going better. Now all theybhad to do was move circles around her; be a hard to hit target. Sure, someone might sink, but that didn't matter at the moment. The wench was going down.

[Kraicia]

-snip-

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Coastal Training Grounds

The SDF mothership in mind had arrived not long after the SDF officers on board made the call to their respectable ship. Gibson could tell that the SDF mothership (Ámóg) has rushed her way to him, since her jacket was noticeably loose, not to mention that her swimsuit was noticeable underneath. Even still, Gibson knew the unusual yet inconvenient moment of spotting something so wrong, which could only be indicated by the presence of Captain Briggs crossing his arms and nodding in...disappointment.

“Gibson, don’t even think about.” The 40-something-year-old Afro-Holtland captain grumbled, “Must I remind you about Eugen and Bismarck?”

“Briggs, don’t mane (remind) me.” Gibson nodded collectively and cool as he can from getting a nose bleed, though that was before whispering to his captain fairy, “She may be one wonderful cunt rag, but that doesn’t...”

Suddenly, Briggs gave a left punch into Gibson’s right cheek before growling back him, “What in god’s name do you think you’re doing, Gibson? Hath thou forgotten the ten commandments? Where are your manners and formality when they’re supposed to be?”

“Aye, I’m no wedbreacher (infidel). Aright?” Gibson shrugged, “I learned already from those bloody aryans long ago.”

“Then prove so. The SDF’s mothership is waiting.” Captain Briggs barked before disappearing from sight.

Gibson knew that he had an honest married man as a captain, so infidelity and lust was a huge ‘no-no’ to anyone under Briggs’ command. Even the officers and even the lowest crew members on board faced disgrace and a court-martial if they ever fooled around with the opposite gender unnecessarily or scandalously. Kraicia was a conservative Christian nation from a social and cultural standpoint, so adultery was considered an offense equal to homicide - even if a marriage was horrible, unhappy and hostile couples had to work things out since divorce was illegal in Kraicia.

Subsequently, Gibson can’t imagine himself going to court only to receive a life sentence for adultery (or death sentence if he’s married and cheated on his possible future wife). So it came to some surprise that Gibson would become stricken with fear and respect, not from Ámóg of course, but from the severe and harsh punishments of lecherous acts. Gibson was no pervert and so was his brother and fellow Kraicians, but he can only hope that he let his fellow Kraicians punish him if he got out of line - that way he had a man beat some sense into him, like what would a father do to discipline their son.

“Uh...Ámóg, top the mornin’.” Gibson greeted back with a hint of his fear-powered nervousness hidden among his professionalism, “If you want me head ripped off, please make wis (sure) and fasten me to the gallows, that way any fellow Holtlander (Kraician) can behead me. Likewise, time to get your elvens (fairies) back home.”

It came to some surprise from the Kraician sailor fairies to think nothing of the cultural differences in names, according to non-Kraician fairies. In fact, all Kraician fairies actually frowned or shrugged in confusion to their non-Kraician counterparts - not realizing the unintentional racism invoked. After all, the word ‘Fairy’ doesn’t exist in Kraician English, so the Kraicians can only understand that they be called ‘Elves’ instead for the sake of cultural originality.

---

-snip-

HLFFS Whitney
Day Two - With Nevlamas

“Inbound, livebox beacons (Radio Signals).” Whitney notified as her decryption computers got to work, “Mare’n friends alike. (‘Friend and foes alike.’)”

Then, Whitney listened a little closer with the signals before delaying further bad news, “Three sloops (destroyers), torpedos and guns, inbound...”

Again, there was some silence before Whitney spelled out a name, “Friend in mind, Lee-Anna-Nate-Zimmer-Anna Brandon-Lee-Anna-Nate-Caden-Anna. Spanish Selfhood (Identity).”

“Aright, this isn’t right.” Whitney then spoke grimly yet sternly to Nevlamas, “Let us pick off the sloops, they’ll be making fine work of this Spanish ship soon. I also believe one of our own is in defending our Spanish lass in mind, no?”

[The Selkie]

As Nevlamas and Whitney sailed south, the Sleetavian took notice of the absence of Tokai, who the two were supposed to be meeting up with. Then again, they could always press onwards without the cruiser. A surface warship would give their position away while attacking a convoy after all, and the last thing Nevlamas wanted was for the enemy to be aware of their positions before she had even flushed her tubes! At this point, the Tyskou-class was cruising submerged, looking through her periscope when she saw a glint of...something. Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a number of things: Higashikawa and another unidentified battleship lobbing shell after shell at a number of Abyssal warships, including several Abyssal battleships. Upon seeing this, a feral grin came across Nevlamas's face. It was hunting time, and she was sure Whitney would have no qualms when it came to sending some of the heavier vessels of the Abyssal scourge to the bottom!

She wanted to co-ordinate their first torpedo salvo however, to make it more effective and not waste torpedoes on already-dead targets. The Sleetavian waited for an acknowledgement from Whitney of her torpedoes also being ready, while opening her own tubes and going to silent running....

-snip-

HLFFS Gibson Grover
Day Two - Coastal Training Grounds

The SDF mothership in mind had arrived not long after the SDF officers on board made the call to their respectable ship. Gibson could tell that the SDF mothership (Ámóg) has rushed her way to him, since her jacket was noticeably loose, not to mention that her swimsuit was noticeable underneath. Even still, Gibson knew the unusual yet inconvenient moment of spotting something so wrong, which could only be indicated by the presence of Captain Briggs crossing his arms and nodding in...disappointment.

“Gibson, don’t even think about.” The 40-something-year-old Afro-Holtland captain grumbled, “Must I remind you about Eugen and Bismarck?”

“Briggs, don’t mane (remind) me.” Gibson nodded collectively and cool as he can from getting a nose bleed, though that was before whispering to his captain fairy, “She may be one wonderful cunt rag, but that doesn’t...”

Suddenly, Briggs gave a left punch into Gibson’s right cheek before growling back him, “What in god’s name do you think you’re doing, Gibson? Hath thou forgotten the ten commandments? Where are your manners and formality when they’re supposed to be?”

“Aye, I’m no wedbreacher (infidel). Aright?” Gibson shrugged, “I learned already from those bloody aryans long ago.”

“Then prove so. The SDF’s mothership is waiting.” Captain Briggs barked before disappearing from sight.

Gibson knew that he had an honest married man as a captain, so infidelity and lust was a huge ‘no-no’ to anyone under Briggs’ command. Even the officers and even the lowest crew members on board faced disgrace and a court-martial if they ever fooled around with the opposite gender unnecessarily or scandalously. Kraicia was a conservative Christian nation from a social and cultural standpoint, so adultery was considered an offense equal to homicide - even if a marriage was horrible, unhappy and hostile couples had to work things out since divorce was illegal in Kraicia.

Subsequently, Gibson can’t imagine himself going to court only to receive a life sentence for adultery (or death sentence if he’s married and cheated on his possible future wife). So it came to some surprise that Gibson would become stricken with fear and respect, not from Ámóg of course, but from the severe and harsh punishments of lecherous acts. Gibson was no pervert and so was his brother and fellow Kraicians, but he can only hope that he let his fellow Kraicians punish him if he got out of line - that way he had a man beat some sense into him, like what would a father do to discipline their son.

“Uh...Ámóg, top the mornin’.” Gibson greeted back with a hint of his fear-powered nervousness hidden among his professionalism, “If you want me head ripped off, please make wis (sure) and fasten me to the gallows, that way any fellow Holtlander (Kraician) can behead me. Likewise, time to get your elvens (fairies) back home.”

It came to some surprise from the Kraician sailor fairies to think nothing of the cultural differences in names, according to non-Kraician fairies. In fact, all Kraician fairies actually frowned or shrugged in confusion to their non-Kraician counterparts - not realizing the unintentional racism invoked. After all, the word ‘Fairy’ doesn’t exist in Kraician English, so the Kraicians can only understand that they be called ‘Elves’ instead for the sake of cultural originality.

---

-snip-

HLFFS Whitney
Day Two - With Nevlamas

“Inbound, livebox beacons (Radio Signals).” Whitney notified as her decryption computers got to work, “Mare’n friends alike. (‘Friend and foes alike.’)”

Then, Whitney listened a little closer with the signals before delaying further bad news, “Three sloops (destroyers), torpedos and guns, inbound...”

Again, there was some silence before Whitney spelled out a name, “Friend in mind, Lee-Anna-Nate-Zimmer-Anna Brandon-Lee-Anna-Nate-Caden-Anna. Spanish Selfhood (Identity).”

“Aright, this isn’t right.” Whitney then spoke grimly yet sternly to Nevlamas, “Let us pick off the sloops, they’ll be making fine work of this Spanish ship soon. I also believe one of our own is in defending our Spanish lass in mind, no?”

Convoy Battle.
While the Prince charged with Wafa and the three torpedo-armed destroyers, three ASW-equipped Late I-class Destroyers stayed back and sporadically fired their 5inch guns to appears as if they were standard early I-class Destroyers only armed with a gun - the late model, though, it had a surprise: Mark II Sonar and a Depth Charge Projector, the best weapons to tell submarines, that they were completely unwelcome.
But the squadron with the active sonars was further ahead, sweeping the oceans before the convoy passing behind them, while a flanking action had never been anticipated - as such, the I-class Destroyers were not sending out Pings actively, but listening for anything suspicious.
For a moment, one of them thought to have heard the sound of torpedo tubes flooding, but dismissed it - for whatever reason. They were not experienced, but they were many.

Amy. Training Grounds.
Neither I nor my fairies were bothered by being called elves - after all, the Selkie Term for a fairy was sióg. It was simply a linguistical difference, nothing to get worked up about.
I still raised my eyebrow at the nervous professionalism displayed by Gibson... and how he had tried to let his eyes stay on my face and not let it wander downwards. It's nice to know, that I still could draw that kind of attention, but that was hardly the time.
I had not seen the interaction between Gibson and his Captain, though, and had no idea about the Kraicians being a bit stricter when it came to appreciating beauty (or his Captain's disposition on that matter).
Still, he was cute. Quite a lot so - he would grow up into a magnificent specimen of the shipboys and make a shipgirl very, very happy one day... here's to hoping, that he wouldn't break shipgirls' hearts as well.
I extended my hand to him, so that he took my hand and thus allowed the crews to transfer over. "Quite right, young man.", I replied with a strict tone, one might even call it a mother. It should be noted, that I was commissioned in 1922 and although I am a bit vain in not wanting to be called an 'old Lady', being Mommy Amy made me being... well, the older one.
Don't say that to my face, though.
"Now... before I rip your head off and wedge it into the rear end of the next Abyssal...", I began and my tone grew a small bit softer. I at least wanted to give him a fair chance to defend himself before I indeed did that, I was motherly like that. "...what happened?"

[Sleet Clans]

-snip-

Nevlamas sent back a reply to Whitney's observation: ''Right, targetting the enemy destroyers. We don't want them putting a torpedo in our Spaniard girl's ass anytime soon, do we?''

With that, Nevlamas turned her sights onto the pack of destroyers, four of her tubes ready to fire in a spread so as to minimize the enemy's chance of dodging. ''Firing in a spread, on my mark...'' She waited for Whitney to lock onto the enemy destroyers, before launching the four torpedoes one after another ''Mark!''. She watched her torpedoes speed off into the depths, heading for the unsuspecting flanking destroyers...

[Higher Japan]

Higashikawa

As he was firing, he suddenly felt something knock into him. Turning over, he saw his worst fear appear close to him. A Re class battleship. With all his might, he gave the most appropriate reaction at the moment, a girlish high pitched scream. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He shouted while screaming and almost crying, trying to knock her away with his rifle as he continued screaming in a high pitch while his fairies instead continued working in his stead as he tried to shake her off. The cannons were quickly re-calibrated to factor in the fact that a battle ship had collided into them, grazing part of the hull as the cannons took aim at last and released another salvo of shells towards the approaching abyssal forces, this time to the figure that looked like a princess.

[Mestovakia]

Higashikawa

As he was firing, he suddenly felt something knock into him. Turning over, he saw his worst fear appear close to him. A Re class battleship. With all his might, he gave the most appropriate reaction at the moment, a girlish high pitched scream. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He shouted while screaming and almost crying, trying to knock her away with his rifle as he continued screaming in a high pitch while his fairies instead continued working in his stead as he tried to shake her off. The cannons were quickly re-calibrated to factor in the fact that a battle ship had collided into them, grazing part of the hull as the cannons took aim at last and released another salvo of shells towards the approaching abyssal forces, this time to the figure that looked like a princess.

The Princess Figure was spooked as well, firing off a salvo that went wide as she fled back into the storm, preferring to take her chances with a tempest. She had come along to see where Re was, and had gotten a fright as a result. As for Re....

"WILL! YOU! STOP! IT!?" Re said frantically, getting shaken by the Battleship, trying to untangle her weaponry as her tail cannon moved around, trying to aid its Master. "Just! Stop! Shaking! Me!" Re yelled angrily, shoving Higashi off of her and breathing heavily, panting for breath. After calming down, She looked up at Higashi, hesitantly smiling a bit. "Wait....Did you seriously just scream like a girl?"

[Yekrenia]

Higashikawa

As he was firing, he suddenly felt something knock into him. Turning over, he saw his worst fear appear close to him. A Re class battleship. With all his might, he gave the most appropriate reaction at the moment, a girlish high pitched scream. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He shouted while screaming and almost crying, trying to knock her away with his rifle as he continued screaming in a high pitch while his fairies instead continued working in his stead as he tried to shake her off. The cannons were quickly re-calibrated to factor in the fact that a battle ship had collided into them, grazing part of the hull as the cannons took aim at last and released another salvo of shells towards the approaching abyssal forces, this time to the figure that looked like a princess.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Western Sector of CN-17

¡Oh, por gritar! Este imbécil solo está pidiendo un ticket para el casillero de Davy Jones. Ahora aquí estoy actuando como salvador tanto como soy un objetivo blindado flotante.

Rotating my 16.7in main batteries in the imbécil, though it was the demonio lascivo that I was aiming at. That imbécil was screaming his lungs out like a pequeña perra, though even the fight in his heart was lacking as the hijo de puta was on top of him.

Another salvo erupted from my 16.7in guns towards the monstruo del imbécil; however, I was never able to see where my shots landed when I felt an all too familiar annoyance return. Ese cobarde príncipe abisal ha vuelto para la segunda ronda.

Unfortunately, some destroyer was shooting at me with incendiary 5in shells, which was cutting my poor duendes down on the deck. My captain and officers were safe in the armored bridge, but that didn’t stop any of the remaining duendes from fleeing to cover.

While I was armored and unscathed by the fires, I was without my souls on board to operate my ‘Pom-Poms’ and properly man my 5in guns. Fires were everywhere on the armored deck, though that was useless against my blessed armor, though that prince had arrived once again.

Then, it occurred to me that some of my crew were still up in their posts in the two radar masts. They were armed with their only defense - a machine gun in each tower - and they lobbed whatever they could at that pequeño príncipe cobarde. Still, my duendes were trapped.

At the same time, one of my duendes yelled from the forward tower to a new horrible sight:

“Tres destructores de entrada! ¡Tres en punto!”

I looked to my starboard side once more to see three incoming destroyer class abismos. No doubt they had torpedos to mierda culo me good aside from their tiny 5in guns. So this is where I’m going to die here, huh? At the same of a volley of torpedos?

Well, that’s actually muy bueno. I already been through the pain of getting torpedos shoved into my ass from a handful of German submarines. So what could go so wrong from these torpedos invoking harm upon me?

So with that pinché príncipe uselessly pestering at me, I did a brief sign of the cross with my greatsword in my hand before watching the three abyssal destroyers approach me. Then, I stood posing similar to Cristo Redentor awaiting my shameful fate...

But then, one of the destroyers erupted in flames from their starboard side. A couple columns of water shooting up in the air, which indicated only one thing. The moment I mentioned submarine, a submarine comes to my rescue. ¿Por qué me sigue pasando esto?

[The Selkie]

Higashikawa

As he was firing, he suddenly felt something knock into him. Turning over, he saw his worst fear appear close to him. A Re class battleship. With all his might, he gave the most appropriate reaction at the moment, a girlish high pitched scream. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" He shouted while screaming and almost crying, trying to knock her away with his rifle as he continued screaming in a high pitch while his fairies instead continued working in his stead as he tried to shake her off. The cannons were quickly re-calibrated to factor in the fact that a battle ship had collided into them, grazing part of the hull as the cannons took aim at last and released another salvo of shells towards the approaching abyssal forces, this time to the figure that looked like a princess.

ARY Lanza Blanca
Western Sector of CN-17

¡Oh, por gritar! Este imbécil solo está pidiendo un ticket para el casillero de Davy Jones. Ahora aquí estoy actuando como salvador tanto como soy un objetivo blindado flotante.

Rotating my 16.7in main batteries in the imbécil, though it was the demonio lascivo that I was aiming at. That imbécil was screaming his lungs out like a pequeña perra, though even the fight in his heart was lacking as the hijo de puta was on top of him.

Another salvo erupted from my 16.7in guns towards the monstruo del imbécil; however, I was never able to see where my shots landed when I felt an all too familiar annoyance return. Ese cobarde príncipe abisal ha vuelto para la segunda ronda.

Unfortunately, some destroyer was shooting at me with incendiary 5in shells, which was cutting my poor duendes down on the deck. My captain and officers were safe in the armored bridge, but that didn’t stop any of the remaining duendes from fleeing to cover.

While I was armored and unscathed by the fires, I was without my souls on board to operate my ‘Pom-Poms’ and properly man my 5in guns. Fires were everywhere on the armored deck, though that was useless against my blessed armor, though that prince had arrived once again.

Then, it occurred to me that some of my crew were still up in their posts in the two radar masts. They were armed with their only defense - a machine gun in each tower - and they lobbed whatever they could at that pequeño príncipe cobarde. Still, my duendes were trapped.

At the same time, one of my duendes yelled from the forward tower to a new horrible sight:

“Tres destructores de entrada! ¡Tres en punto!”

I looked to my starboard side once more to see three incoming destroyer class abismos. No doubt they had torpedos to mierda culo me good aside from their tiny 5in guns. So this is where I’m going to die here, huh? At the same of a volley of torpedos?

Well, that’s actually muy bueno. I already been through the pain of getting torpedos shoved into my ass from a handful of German submarines. So what could go so wrong from these torpedos invoking harm upon me?

So with that pinché príncipe uselessly pestering at me, I did a brief sign of the cross with my greatsword in my hand before watching the three abyssal destroyers approach me. Then, I stood posing similar to Cristo Redentor awaiting my shameful fate...

But then, one of the destroyers erupted in flames from their starboard side. A couple columns of water shooting up in the air, which indicated only one thing. The moment I mentioned submarine, a submarine comes to my rescue. ¿Por qué me sigue pasando esto?

Convoy Battle, Torpedo Destroyers Attack Run.
The destroyers armed with short range torpedoes saw with quite a bit of satisfaction, that their 5inch-shells had at least some effect, the secondary artillery and anti-aircraft armament of their enemy was silent, only her main artillery was still belching fire every now and then - still deadly, very much so, but it could be worse.
Also, she was burning alight thanks to the incendiary shells.
A welcome side-effect of their fire, now they had something to aim at relatively easily. And that they did with gusto, the three destroyers speeding up to their attack run - until suddenly, one of their own exploded and went out in a bright, fiery end. Something or someone had hit him in the side, sinking him easily.
Regardless of that, the destroyers pressed on: David versus Goliath, to use a human metaphor, a fight the destroyers wanted to win like David did.
At the earliest opportunity, the tripe mounts released their torpedoes, from two remaining destroyers onto a burning target spreading her arms out... something was wrong, the destroyers thought, but they had no time. Six torpedoes sped through the water, two veering off course already and into the wide sea, which roiled angrily. With their payload delivered, they adjusted their course to get themselves out and that as quickly as possible.

-snip-

Nevlamas sent back a reply to Whitney's observation: ''Right, targetting the enemy destroyers. We don't want them putting a torpedo in our Spaniard girl's ass anytime soon, do we?''

With that, Nevlamas turned her sights onto the pack of destroyers, four of her tubes ready to fire in a spread so as to minimize the enemy's chance of dodging. ''Firing in a spread, on my mark...'' She waited for Whitney to lock onto the enemy destroyers, before launching the four torpedoes one after another ''Mark!''. She watched her torpedoes speed off into the depths, heading for the unsuspecting flanking destroyers...

Convoy Battle. ASW-Destroyers.
Wafa had remained behind with her three Late I-class Destroyers, the ASW-vessels being of little use in the direct confrontation, instead choosing to let them continue shelling the battleship and everything non-Abyssal in the area with incendiary shells, but trying to spare the heavy cruiser and the entangled Re-class Battleship. It would easily happen to try to hit one and indeed hitting the other.
She did not miss the explosion of one of her torpedo destroyers, the little vessel going down ripped in two halves, while the Prince did his job well. Wafa frowned at her ASW-destroyers, who understood the silent command.
Now was the time for ASW, to establish a submarines-unwelcome zone and to do so quickly.
First step, psychological warfare: One of the I-class Destroyers, Ida, turned her sonar to active mode, sending out a very loud, very strong Ping, that would be heard by the submarines, hopefully rattling them to the core, as they now knew, that Abyssal ASW-Destroyers were in the area, searching for them.
The others listened for the returns, preparing their Depth Charge Projectors.

[Higher Japan]

Higashikawa

"Nope!" He shouted, quickly untangling himself as he began to scream and run, charging in front of the battle ship to take aim at the destroyers as the 10 cm shells began to fire fast towards the destroyers, 20 shells coming out at every minute while he made a calculated maneuver, turning just enough as he took aim with his heavier cannons before opening fire towards the ships at the back line releasing heavy fire. "Just a little more..." As he sailed through the hail of imminent fire, some stray gun shots hitting his face and scratching the skin barely, he made a sharp turn as the torpedoes aimed towards the heavier ships were fired. "Sink to the depths!" He shouted as he quickly made another hard turn, aiming towards the destroyers while his rear guns turned and began to fire at the heavier ships.

"This is Higashikawa! Ba-Battleship stranded, requesting towing ships!" He signaled back to base, just barely dodging a shell.

[Sterkistan]

-SNIP-

---

Battleship Diamantina
Battleship Dorms | Womens

---

Dia continued to cry for a few long minutes, before it began to subside. The bawling turned to a collection of sobs and unintelligible babbling.
Once it died down, she rolled off Stilly's shoulder lazily, laying down on her back, with her hands covering her eyes.
She hummed a tune again, through her hoarse voice. This one was colder and harsher than the previous ones though, likely it was from something sad.
She spoke softly, fighting to keep her voice straight.
"Stilly, are you my angel?"

---

Battleship Whona
Supply Shed

---

Whona smiled at the information, standing up straight with a cheeky smirk on her face.
"Pleasure doing business."
She bid Rhiannon farewell and turned back to Searc,
"You were right about Rhiannon, she knows where to find the good stuff. Submarine pens, cellar, eighth door to the right. And it's on the house."

[The Cross and Davids Star]

The request Higashikawa rang in Prophet's ears. The signal sounded a bit scratchy, signalling some interfearence, that he could only guess was from a storm,meaning that he couldn't help that much in combat, but the towing part, that he could possibly do. But he was a bit torn about it, they clearly needed help, but there wasn't all that much he could possibly do. He was also worried about Whona, and what she'd end up doing if she were to get her hands on him, but he shrugged that off, gaining the courage to get out from the bushes and talk.
"They need help out there, some battleships are stranded and they probably won't be up for long. I can help tow the ships to safety, but I can't do it all by myself." He spoke, running into the shed to access his rig.

[The Assorted Saharan Outposts]

Oh, so now she was just going to stand there and take it, eh? Well, Comet was sure to take advantage of that. Without even speaking, he motioned to fire once more, and the ships understood immediately. The heavier ships unloaded their ammunition onto the ship, while the submarine, instead, chose to spoke out.

"Mi-I mean, sir! There's an enemy submarine in the waters. Do you want me to take care of it?"

Comet had glared at her for a moment for making a mistake of his title, causing her to shiver slightly, before nodding. "Yes, yes. Take care of it, Anchor. Make sure it doesn't shoot me down. Your priority has changed. See to it."

"Yes, sir! Taking on water!" Anchor shouted as she slowly sunk underneath the surface of the water. Now, where was that other submarine? She had to be careful here...