To the southeast of Gronwood was a vast desert known as the Sand Sea. Beneath the sands were innumerable dimensional rifts that constantly pushed air through the sand, just enough to make it behave like a liquid. Airships sail to and from the Floating City upon the shifting sands, drawing power using Storm Ore enchanted plating on the keels called siphon plates.
Two airships, one hoisting the colors of the Floating City and the other a flag of white with black moth wings, circled one another through the air, firing ballista and bursts of magic in a desperate fight for survival. Mothkin flew overhead, guns and crossbows peppering the decks.
A grease-covered young man with blue skin, windswept white hair, and heavily worn armored coveralls stepped out from the belly of the pirate airship, hurriedly approaching a Mothkin woman at the helm.
A cutlass swung out from a falcon headed chimeran who'd jumped across to their airship. An elven hand spread into a shining buckler as Ellisandra, first mate of the Slip Stream, blocked the strike, her other hand a long blade that stabbed forward, piercing the man through the chest.
“Not safe up here, Zeff!” She called as she darted away in a blur in pursuit of more of the privateers. Zeff gave his thanks and continued toward the captain.
The captain was a mostly black Mothkin, but had grey and white circles that randomly spotted her face, upper torso, and her three wings. One had been lost sometime ago. Her bright yellow pants ruffled in the wind.
“Captain Luma!” he puffed, still holding a rather large wrench.
“What is it, boy?” she yanked on the wheel, tilting the deck as several huge ballista bolts narrowly missed the hull.
“I've found the issue with the siphon plates, but we need to land before I can fully fix it.”
“No time for that, Zeff! Do what you can,” she gripped the steering column as a new volley struck true, sending a shudder through the ship. The bolts then exploded, shearing huge chunks off the starboard side.
Luma snagged Zeff as he slid on the now tilted deck. “New plan.” She motioned to the crew, many of whom were mothkin like her. Some had already flown to the enemy ship, combat washing over the deck as they desperately tried to end the barrage.
“Operation Smash and Grab!” she ordered, pushing Zeff toward the steps leading into the ship as she aggressively began to turn the airship, leading up into the air and heading straight for the enemy ship.
Zeff ran as smoothly as he could, pausing at his chambers to grab his backpack that held his tools and other things he'd collected over his five year stint on the Slip Stream, Luma's beautiful airship. That he now needed to sabotage to explode.
Tears ran down his cheek as he rushed to the centralized engine room, which he affectionately called the core. A sphere of pulsing magic was held aloft by a similarly colorful matrix of lines like webbing. Most of these were connected to the siphon plates, converting the kinetic energy into magic that was fed directly into the three motors that powered the steering and movement, as well as the other amenities within the ship.
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“That's the problem with airships,” he'd explained to the captain two years before. “Anyone who knows anything about airships and has sufficient magic can easily destroy them if they can get into the core.” Shortly after that, Luma had devised a plan if the ship ever reached the point of no repair.
Zeff began his work, channeling magic into the threads of the core. His Technology sigil stone significantly reduced the cost and time he needed to affect technological objects. He detached the connections leading to the air conditioning, food storage, and all other non-critical systems, connecting them equally to the three motors. He could already hear the engines beginning to surge with power as he put on his pack and fled toward the deck.
Captain Luma took to the air after setting the course, her crew behind her as she charged at the other vessel. She spat at the Flying City flag of the privateer ship as she tapped a small stone in her left ear.
“Abandon ship! Operation Smash and Grab!”
Twenty more mothkin took to the air from the privateer ship, some carrying the non-flyers.
Zeff burst out onto the deck as three more bolts blew the front off the ship, splintered wood, shredded metal, and furniture rained down into the roiling sands.
The deck was completely empty. Zeff sighed with relief as he leapt from the twisted guardrail.
They had climbed high enough during the fight that he had several seconds to enjoy the rushing air and the beautiful view of the shifting sands. He folded out handles from his backpack and pushed the red button. A parachute with runic stitching burst out from the top and a custom siphon plate he'd recently finished from the bottom. The plate was long and narrow, with magnetic plates that connected to the metal bands he'd secured to his boots.
Above him, the Slip Stream slammed into the other vessel and exploded. Debris rained down around him as he landed on the sands. His siphon plate board fed power to his enchanted parachute, allowing him to surf over the sand. He looked up and saw the captain and crew circling around the crumbling debris snatching up any supplies they could muster as the two crumbling airships fell to the sands below.
As he couldn't fly, Zeffrey von Zeppelberg turned northwest toward the ruins of Alogow, where they would convene to discuss next steps.
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Hunger.
The astral maw had been trapped in its orange cuboid egg for far longer than it should have been. The wizard who had trapped it in the runic room had set the energies that would feed it to the minimum for survival.
Hunger.
After several years, the maw detected new life. Near life. They’d opened the door and talked about it. They were right. The room kept it trapped in its glass case. Perhaps they would set it free. Then it could eat the wizard who trapped it there. And maybe the big fuzzy one.
Hunger.
Days passed and the small one kept passing through, peeking in at it with curiosity. It sensed the red haired man’s power. Weak, but he had the Luck sigil stone. That meant this one would be pulled into grand events, even if he didn’t want it. Grand events involving power it could eat.
Hunger.
The astral maw felt its connection to the source of what fed it, gently pushing its will against the object. It would be free of this place, no matter the cost.
Hunger.
The lucky man was close to the device. This was its chance!
Hunger.