Tag Archive: Story

The Mechanic

Another Diary I wrote, this one from the viewpoint of a WWII Mechanic. Enjoy!

November 14th, 1941: I just arrived on Oahu today. I’ve been transferred to Pearl Harbor as a mechanic. The weather is beautiful here, I could really get used to this. I’ve been assigned quarters in Schofield Barracks.


Nov 19th, 1941: All these reports about the Japanese aggression in the far east are making me worried. Between them and Hitler, mark my words, this world will be in flames, and we’ll be lucky if we get out of it with our lives.


Nov 26th, 1941: They transferred me out of the Barracks today, and onboard the USS Enterprise, under the command of Admiral Halsey, i’m excited to be stationed on a carrier, even if everyone says the Battleships are the assignment you want to get.


Nov 28th, 1941: Admiral Halsey is taking the battle group out to sea. We’re to deliver aircraft to Wake Island. Rumors are out that if we come across any Japanese forces, the Admiral will engage them with extreme prejudice, although his official orders from Admiral Kimmel are to use his common sense.


Dec 4th, 1941: We delivered the fighter squadron to Wake, so far no signs of any Japanese. We’re heading back to Pearl, although we’re going to be late because of that storm we encountered on our way here


Dec 7th, 1941: We came into port today, surrounded by death. I can’t even see the sky through all the thick black smoke from burning ships. The Japanese hit Pearl this morning. Pearl of all places! They slaughtered our ships, I can’t see a single one without some kind of damage. Thank God for that storm, or we would have been here with them. We are under orders to sail southward and seek out the enemy fleet and engage, to stab back at the enemy the best we can.


Mcdonough’s Tale

A short historical piece I wrote, centered around Pearl Harbor. This story is tied in with “Siege of Fortuna”

…As Major Mcdonough’s P-40 Tomahawk hurtled down the runway, its engines roaring like an enraged tiger, he glanced over his shoulder, checking for enemy fighters. Seeing none, he brought his plane up into a climb, pulling it away from the tarmac. The tomahawk then soared up to cruising altitude, and Mcdonough looked to his left spotting two other tomahawks that made it into the air. He gave them a salute, before his eyes drifted towards Pearl Harbor. The billowing plumes of smoke coming from throughout the harbor, as well as the occasional tounge of flame shooting out of the shattered and mangled husk of the USS Arizona, only strengthened his resolve. He banked his plane towards the battle, the other tomahawks following him as he rushed towards the sound of danger, intent on avenging the Americans that lay dead and dying below him.

    Mcdonough’s  hodge podge squadron flew into the fray, catching a small group of Japanese aircraft from behind. They dove down on the enemy, Mcdonough knocking out a Nakajima B5N “Kate” torpedo bomber before the japanese had time to react. A dogfight ensued, with several Mitsubishi A6M “Zeros” peeling off from the main Japanese formation to intercept Mcdonough’s fighters. Mcdonough’s formation split, and began a deadly dance of death with the enemy fighters, both sides darting around trying to line up a lethal shot on the other side.  One of the enemy fighters erupted in a ball of flame after one of Mcdonough’s wingmen lodged a bullet inside its engine. Mcdonough let off a stream of bullets at another nearby fighter, then glanced over his shoulder, cursing as one of his wingmen was hit, his engine sputtering. He watched the plane as it spiraled down to its death, the pilot bailing out. He was shaken back to reality by the sounds of bullets bouncing off his own wings, and glanced behind him, spotting a Japanese pilot. Another round of bullets struck his wing as he dove, and as he glanced over, he could see fuel leaking. He cursed, and turned his plane around, struggling his way back to Hickam Field. He landed his crippled plane amid all the destruction and devastation, then climbed out of the cockpit, before blacking out from blood loss, due to the bullet that had passed through the base of the Tomahawk’s wing and into his leg.

Bastion Chp 2

Sergei Nemtsov listened to the rumble of the Herme’s engines as he guided the small commando vessel across the waves. He glanced around at his crew, watching as some of them outfitted for land recon, and other worked at the various consoles in the ship’s wheel room. The propellers of the Hermes churned the water behind her as Sergei began humming a traditional Russian tune, his mind drifting back to when he was young, and his home in Minsk. He remembered the Harsh winters, and the brief, balmy summers. He could practically smell his mother’s cooking as he thought of his small apartment home. Then his mind drifted to that fateful day, when he was selected to become part of the Ark project. Suddenly, his mind was forced back to the present when one of his men tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to see the island, no longer a distant speck, looming before him. It was covered in a dense jungle, and capped off by a single mountain. He studied the coastline of the island, and found a small beach. He glanced at his men, then tugged his recon pack onto his back as he slowed the Hermes. He brought her gently up to the beach, and led the men out of her, into the ankle deep water.

Lucius strode down the alley to a half hidden sign that read “The Flying Dutchman! Best pub this side of the street!” He went through the door under the sign, and strode up to the bar. The barkeep strode up and and said “Ello mate! Wotcha’ have?” Lucius said in a low voice “Im looking for a man named Balt.” The barkeep visibly darkened, and motioned for Lucius to join him in the back room.

      As they entered the back room,  the barkeep spun and slammed him against the wall. “How do you know that name!” He yelled at Lucius.  Lucius shoved the other man off him, brushed himself off, and said “ I was told to contact a man by that name. I am interested in joing his… organization” The barkeep calmed down, and said “Oh… well in that case, a moment please” He turned, and began to walk away seemingly to get “balt”. Suddenly, he spun and threw a knife at Lucius, who caught off guard, barely dodged it. The barkeep charged at the surprised hero, and punched him in the chest before grabbing his arm, which he twisted. Lucius cringed, then spun, breaking the hold. He kneed the man in the gut then spun twice, hitting the man on the ear and in the ribs. The other man staggered back, shocked b y the speed of the attacks, but he only was off guard for a moment. He recovered, and threw a murderous right hook at Lucius dodged, and the man’s fist hit the wall with a *crack*. He howled in pain and staggered backward, cradling his smashed fist. Lucius took this moment to strike, knocking the man to the ground, and stepping on his chest. Oddly enough, the man laughed. “Impressive” he said. “ I think you have the right stuff for The Shadow. Welcome to the club… what was your name?” Lucius’ eyes widened, as he realized he hadn’t thought of a decent name. thinking quickly, he blurted out “Drake. Just drake” Balt patted him roughly on the back as he said “Well then, welcome to the club Drake”


Okay after that brief break from the story of our mysterious lucius, I give you the 6th installment of The Jester’s Blade!

As the figure drove the knife down, Lucius rolled, kicking the figure in the shin. The figure, taken by surprise, and thoroughly angered that its prey was still alive, jumped backwards, and drew a second dagger for his off hand. Lucius rolled out of bed, and jumped to his feet, grabbing his “juggling” daggers off of the wardrobe. He lunged at the figure, who easily sidestepped the half awake Jester, allowing him to barrel through the door.  Lucius stumbled back to his feet as the figure sprang through the door. Now that the figure was in the torchlight of the hallway,  Lucius could see that “it” was a small, lithe,man, clad in black robes, with a black hood over his face. The man slashed at Lucius with one dagger,  while he simultaneously stabbed at him with the other. Lucius dodged the blades nimbly, and grabbed the man’s off hand, twisting it until he heard a snap, along with the man’s scream. The man staggered then recovered, slashing at Lucius in a desperate attempt to regain the upper hand. he grazed Lucius’ chest, leaving a long slash across it and cutting his shirt. Lucius whipped out his own daggers, and threw two, pinning the man to the wall by his robe. Fighting the urge to kill the man then and there, he began to question him “What is you name, and who do you serve?” he asked the now bone white man. “My name is Occassus, and i serve my master” Lucius glared at Occassus, and almost growled the next question “Fine Occassus… who is your master?” “My master,” Occassus said, smiling insidiously, “Is the black death, the Furvus B’as, and your bane!” Suddenly, Occassus grabbed his dagger out of Lucius’ hand, thrusting it right into his own heart, then throwing it in one last rebellious attempt straight at Lucius. Lucius dodged the blade, then ran over to Occassus, who lay dying on the floor. Occassus looked up, spit at Lucius, then collapsed as his last breath escaped his body. “Fool.” Lucius muttered as he let go of the dead assassin.

With all his known leads either dead or worthless, Lucius felt lost. He lay on his bed in the inn, milling through the events of the past few days, searching for answers. He thought of Thane, the burly head guard at the palace. Could he know more than he let on to during Lucius’ capture? He thought of Earl Fraser, the man who had hired him. Could he have decided Lucius was a liability which needed to be disposed of?  Who was the man who left Sebastian’s Villa in so much haste?As Lucius began to doze off, hoping something might come to him in the night, he heard a click. Someone was at the door! Thinking fast, he rolled over, pretending to be fast asleep.

The door slowly opened, first only a crack, then wide enough to let a man slip in. A figure appeared in the doorway, black as night itself, and stood there for a moment before entering. It slid through the room, quiet as death, before stopping at the side of the bed Lucius was facing. It hovered for a moment before drawing a long, black, dagger from its robes, and raising it above its head, preparing to deliver a lethal blow…

Jesters Blade Chp. 3

The next morning, Lucius awoke in the small room he had acquired in a nondescript inn in the countryside. Donning the new clothes he had also acquired, he went downstairs into the inn’s smoky, dimly lit, main hall. walking up to the innkeeper, he asked for a small meal, a mug of ale, and for the innkeeper to keep the room vacant for him, while handing over a small pouch of coin. After eating, he left the inn, and mounted a nearby horse, returning to the Kingdom’s capital city.

An hour or two later, as he rode through the city’s gate he saw a poster with an crudely drawn image of himself with the words “WANTED! dead or alive! reward: 50,000 sovereigns” written under it. He shrugged it off, knowing the guards would eventually discover the fact that his cell was empty.

He stowed his horse in a nearby stable, and walked to the “Gilded Dragon”, one of the city’s more famous inns. As he strode through the doors, he saw an aged, particularly pudgy, wealthy man sitting at a table and strode over to him. “Earl Fraser” he said quietly, slipping into an empty chair.  The man looked up, shock and confusion on his face, then exclaimed “Lucius! wha… how did you… never mind. Not here, this place isn’t safe. Meet me in my room in an hour, and make sure you aren’t followed.”

Around an hour later, Lucius snuck up to the Earl’s room, on the dragon’s second floor. He slipped into the room, to find Fraser sitting in front of a small fireplace. Fraser saw him enter, and got up, walking to him. “Lucius! I counted you dead for sure!” he exclaimed. “They’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me” Lucius said, smirking. “Indeed…” the Earl retorted. “What were you thinking!” The portly noble said angrily as he shut the door “you were only supposed to spy on the king, gather information to help me get those grain trade rights, not kill the man!” “I knew my duties. I didn’t kill the king. someone framed me.” Fraser leaned back in his chair, stroking his small, white beard. “I see… Well this changes everything! If it wasn’t you, then who did kill our beloved imbecile of a ruler? And why would they want to frame you? Do they know of your true background, or were you merely a victim who was in the wrong spot at the wrong time?” Lucius looked at Fraser, cold, hard, determination on his face, as he replied “I do not know, but I intend to find out.”

As the king listened to the Earl’s proposition, which happened to be (as far as he could tell) about some grain shortage in one of the provinces, and another who could supply them, but refused to trade, or some such nonsense, he turned his attention to the court jester, a much more intriguing man. Having arrived only a fortnight before, the jester was the newest member of the king’s court, as well as one of the more popular. The jester, whose name was Lucius, was juggling some brightly colored balls in a figure eight pattern, while wearing a goofy grin. As entertaining as Lucius was, the king forced himself to listen to the pointless squabbles of the two nobles. As they quarreled on, he began to doze off, hoping they would simply be gone when he awoke. He had begun to dream of his villa high in the mountains, and his loving wife and four children, when suddenly he felt an excruciating pain in his side

The entire throne room went silent as the king slumped over, a dagger stuck in his side. As a guard ran out of the room, the color drained from the face of the Earl who had been arguing for more grain, while his adversary simply stared in shock at the murdered ruler. Within two minutes, the doors to the throne room burst open and every royal guard in the Castle poured through, surrounding the nobles, merchants, and performers, leaving no route for escape.

The head of the royal guard, a tall, burly, man by the name of Thane, strode up to the body of the king, ripping the small, gilded dagger from his side. He then ordered two of the guards to search all the court member’s belongings, as well as those of the various servants and entertainers. When one of the guards reached Lucius’ pack, he pulled out a small, decorated box and opened it to examine the contents. Inside the box lay five small, gilded daggers, exact duplicates of the one in the king’s side.

Thane strode over to Lucius, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled him up to eye level. “Lucius, son of Graf. You are hereby charged with high treason and murder of our beloved King Edric” He stated. “You are sentenced to be thrown in Darkmyre Dungeon until a new ruler is coronated, at which time a proper trial will be held”. “But… but.. Sire, I have done nothing wrong!” Lucius exclaimed. “Nothing? Are these not your knives?” Thane asked calmly, pulling out Lucius’ box “Yes sir. They are.” Thane then held up the dagger that killed the king “And is this dagger the same as those in your box?”  Lucius looked thoughtful “Yes sire, but I only own five of those knives” Thane suddenly became enraged, throwing the blood stained knife on the floor “LIES!” he bellowed “Guards! Take this traitor to his new home!” With that, two of the stronger guards under thane’s command grabbed Lucius and dragged him out of the throne room.