//------------------------------// // Where the Sun Don't Shine // Story: Tower of the West // by Lasairfion //------------------------------// The lieutenant shouted down the order for ‘Overdrive’ to the engine room and in response the engines started to howl. The steady hum turned to a vorpal whine, a thunderous boom and then a torturous scream as the blades spun faster and faster, the patterns on the front morphing into shapes that made your eyes hurt. There was an odd taste in the air, flashes of octarine and strange runic patterns flickering on your retinas even through closed eyelids. Smoke pouring off the mana-engine nacelles, the entire ship thrust itself forwards like a bolt from a crossbow, Wrath nearly losing his footing at the sudden turn of speed. Lightning crackled along the gunwales as the ship slung itself hard about under the ministrations of the flight master as the long horn of Luna pointed towards the gryffon airship. Wrath grinned to himself as he hauled himself along the sloping deck trying to keep himself below the total chaos in the air above as pegasus fought gryffon in a fast-paced aerial battle. Lightning flashed, and the rain pelted down as combat pegasi and weather ponies used the very forces of nature against their enemies. His goal sat at the front of the Loncastre; currently unstallioned due to an unfortunately accurate shot from the other side, but about to be stallioned very hard by one very ticked stallion. Wrath crawled the last few feet to the spectacular mounted gun on the forecastle of the ship. A picture of shining silver, capped with huge control wheels, the fore-cannon could be swung nearly 180 degrees across the front of the ship and nearly 70 degrees in pitch. The gun was in its natural dead-forward position above the figurehead. Wrath grinned. Slipping into the control seat he released the safety catch and fired. Smoke and arcane fire poured out of the mouth of the weapon as superheated shards of crystal flew towards the enemy ship in an expanding cloud of light and sound. These new ‘fire workings’ were a thing to be seen; and the gryffon were getting to see them first hand. The shards ripped through the side of the enemy ship, bursting into flame on contact and pulverising the wooden planks of the ship to splinters. As the Loncastre sped towards the other ship he could see it attempting to manoeuvre as the opposing captain suddenly realised their intent. Twirling the control wheels he turned the cannon to port and aimed for the wheelhouse and lower cabin watching as the steady stream of fire ate into the control mechanisms of the other vessel. A sudden shudder running through the entire airship caught him off-guard and the pitch wheel span from his grasp whirling as the entire gun pitched upwards in response to the Loncastre dipping down as they approached the side of the other ship. The stream fired up and into the envelope of the other vessel setting alight the fabric and cutting through support cables. The enemy fired one last broadside, but it was too late. Wrath braced himself as he screamed. The great spiraled horn of Princess Luna met the bulk of the opposing ship’s side and slammed right through the outer shell; with a tremendous ear-splitting crunch the figurehead ploughed right into the innermost part of the ship along with the forecastle. The metal brightwork screeched as it was torn from its mounts and crumpled against the ragged hole left in the side of the other ship. Wrath’s huge gun, about to impact the deck, but still firing, cut a swath through the woodwork and came to rest against their bell tower. Wrath released the trigger and watched the envelope deflating above him. Everypony had stopped, not a pony or gryffon on deck was moving, but stood where they had braced for impact. ‘Stick that where the Sun don’t shine’, a voice yelled, before Wrath realised it was his. Suddenly everypony was moving, and a number of deckhooves raced forwards to his position to counter the invading gryffon crew. A huge bloody gryffon leapt in front of him, only to receive a buck from his hind hooves as Wrath spun out of his seat and onto what was left of the forecastle deck. As the gryffon dropped, Wrath rolled and spun his way through the driving rain and across the slick deck. Behind Wrath the flames crept across the stricken ship bathing the scene in a blood red glow. All of a sudden a scream came from the sundered deck as a young gryffon leapt through the air towards the Loncastre, speeding his way low across the forecastle and onto the main deck. ‘The magazine…!’ he screamed, still moving. There was a split second pause between an enormous fireball erupting and the sound of thoom. The enemy ship came apart at the seams as the front end of the Loncastre buckled under a wall of fire. Wrath was still running towards the stern when he felt the heat behind him. Meeting the Agister midway, they both caught each other’s eye, turned aside and dove off the ship into the inky black waters below. As he fell, Wrath could see the fore-cannon explode in an arc of white fire that took out the envelope above, and both ships, their remains lighting the sky like the depths of hell, plummeted towards him. Wrath’s horn lit as he struggled to slow his descent towards the dark cold water. Hitting it from this height wasn’t going to do anyone any good. He looked over to his right and saw the Agister spinning through the air, where it registered to the rest of his brain that his new found friend was not a unicorn or a pegasus. Extending his field to envelop the both of them, Wrath, tired from his ordeal, found the extra weight increasing their speed towards the water compared to his previous slower rate. ‘This is probably going to hurt a little’, he yelled. ----- Wrath had managed a little latitudinal movement as they had fallen, and they were now closer to the shore of the river and not immediately under the wreckage as great chunks of burning ship fell out the sky. The entangled mess had just hit the water, throwing up great clouds of steam as it settled low into the river. Pegasi had grabbed other crew members, and unicorns were making poor landings in the cold water much like they had. Not everyone had made it, and there was still fighting in the skies above. Their landing had been rather unpleasant as foreseen, and from the sounds emanating from Cool Pastures there was a severely sprained leg even at best prognosis. Wrath, a good swimmer, dragged the Agister through the water and towards the reed beds that lined the shore, trying to avoid being noticed by the enemy. After a fair few minutes swimming in the river, the two made it to the muddy banks where Wrath staggered ashore with the Agister slung over his back. Dropping him behind some decent cover, he leaned over whispering conspiratorially, ‘I’m going to take a look inside the tower. Try to keep out of sight, and wait for some more of your crew to get ashore.’ ‘Don’t be doing anything stupid’, whispered the Agister back, drawing a small portable crossbow from his saddlebags, ‘and don’t forget… the gates are open.’