Crimson Flight
Written by Fastblast and Tyrman
It would be a long journey and an even longer one with all these supplies. Tyrman was ever thankful Crimson was up to the task of air shipping all the necessary surplus of gear to Silithus. It would cut their trip nearly by half if they traveled light enough. Using cargo airships Tyr would transport the gnomes and their equipment to an airstrip on the salt flats near Gadgetzan and from there pilot Crimson Fastblast could fly while the others continued from the ground. However, he was warned that the skies were not safe across all Silithus borders and the surrounding areas. Before Tyr could inquire about more information, the channel used was far too weak to understand.
Tyrman grunts as he sets down the last crate near Crimson’s flying machine.
“Got all the necessary fuel for ya too. Ya sure about this, lad?” Tyr asks before taking a swig from his flask.
“Sure, sure. If I get into a pinch, I got a few tricks up my sleeve. And a few guns. On the plane. Mounted. Machine guns. … Yeah I think I’ll be fine.” He snickers.
Tyr grins before laughing, “Aye, I bet you Cogin’ do. I have no doubt you’ll make it there in one piece. Be sure to radio in when you arrive and if or when shite hits the fan too, yeah?” He punches Crimson’s shoulder (something to regret later, not accounting for the cyberneticness) and toddles off to prepare as the pilot readies himself.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let ya know.” He turns to the crate and crouches down, extending his arms into the skid like a forklift, lifting it effortlessly and loading it onto the plane. “That’s everything, right? I need to make a stop at the Hot Springs before they stop selling those little hot dogs.”
“Aye! That is all the extra essentials. We’ll be taking off here as soon as the others gather. You’re free to take off when you’re ready.” Tyrman’s chuckle could be heard at Fastblast’s comment about the Hot Springs. “Be sure to get yourself one of those umbrella drinks at the tiki-bar too! And ask for Azky, she tends to give gnomes a little extra.”
The skies are currently clear over Tanaris with the usual blazing dry heat. Gusts of wing picking up the odd dust devil but nothing substantial. Wildlife, curiously, is non-existent across the desert stretch. A blip on the radar halfway through the flight followed by a transmission over the main channel; “HEY! YOU’RE FLYING OVER RESTRICTED AIRSPACE, PAL! LAND OR WE’LL MAKE YA!”
Crim’s eye reticles rolled over. “Oh, for the love a…” He muttered to himself, before jamming his finger into the comms. “This is Crimson Fastblast, I’m just passin’ through. What’s the deal, you new around here?”
Crim was pretty well known in Gadgetzan and never ran into issues normally… Granted, that was over 25 years ago before he ended up brainwashed in Mechagon until just a couple years ago. So, there’s a good chance he doesn’t have the same recognizability these days.
“I COULDN’T CARE LESS IF YOU WERE THE BARON HIMSELF! LAST WARNING GEAR HEAD!”
Rocketing from behind looked to be a goblin shredder outfitted with thrusters capable of actual flight. The fuel used left a black trail of smog. Blades from its shoulders whirr to life and fold to make room for the twin rotating guns popping up from a hidden housing.
“Really?! I don’t got time to waste on this!”
He flips a lid on the console and a big blue button labeled “TURBO THUNDER!!!” pops up. He smashes it with his fist, and the jet’s thrusters bolster up in size, before unleashing a massive blue blast of electricity with a roar of thunder. Crim would explode forward at an incredible speed, hoping to lose the shredder without engaging.
Just as the greaser’s aircraft lurched forward with incredible momentum did the shredder pilot open fire. Their wild shots would be lucky to find any purchase or even scratch any part of the hull, let alone vital systems.
The goblin attempted to follow but would come to a stop before circling back toward Gadgetzan.
Un’Goro Crater’s micro climate was vastly different than Tanaris’s arid weather. Even here the wildlife seemed a bit sparce other than with flocks of birds and other flying creatures were leaving in exodus.
The Oiled Thunder slowed down with a few lurches and stutters as the thrusters cooled down. “I hate interns. Don’tcha know a VIP when you see one? Eh, let’s check the damage.”
He pokes at a few buttons on the dashboard, bringing up a diagram showing a few minor dents and scratches on the exterior.
“Those’ll buff out. Good work, baby. You never let me down!” He pats the plane lovingly but is interrupted by a pterodactyl-like creature nearly colliding with him head on before he jerked the plane to the side.
“HEY WATCH IT, BIRD BRAIN! Man, people fly like maniacs around here!” He grumbles to himself, paying no mind to the smoking treetops he may or may not have set briefly ablaze while blasting into the scene recklessly.
The disgruntled pterrordax that was nearly hit let out a high pitch screech. Hesitating to attack the metal rig before choosing flight over fight. Joining the others of its kind along with other feathered creatures leaving the crater.
A layer of the jungle canopy did ignite causing further commotion below. An increasing buzz fills the air as smoke chokes everything. Thick clouds of smoke shift and move in intricate patterns. A menacing silhouette rises from the jungle floor. Its impossibly fast wings pushed away the smoke revealing a swarm of smaller insects within the cloud. The black carapace glimmered in the sunlight like irradiance. Sharp scythe like claws spread and its stinger ready as it flies toward the Oiled Thunder. The swarm of smaller flies follow and any bird unfortunate to fly through it are overwhelmed and fall from the sky.
“Great, should’ve expected some of these guys.” He readies his guns by punching in a few codes on the console. A couple of LMGs deployed from underneath the plane. At the same time, his chin plate extended upward to cover his mouth like a gasmask. His voice sounded over the loudspeaker.
“Alright bugs, I’ll give you 4 and a half seconds to get the hell outta my way! The extra second and a half was so I could monologue!” The ammo belts on the guns begin to whirr as the guns fire up.
The swarm disperses as the loudspeaker sounds before returning into an angry whirring cloud around the large silithid wasp. Showing no signs of slowing, the insectoids close in on the flying machine. Acidic bile bubbles from the black wasp’s mouth parts. The blob dribbles before being spat. Smaller insects began to cover the entire aircraft, crawling into vents and crevasses.
“You asked for it!”
The guns begin blazing, spraying down any bugs that were still at a range. In the meantime, Crimson pulled a crank next to his seat which deployed a particle barrier around the plane. It wasn’t anything particularly strong, but it’d at least prevent some bugs from getting through for a little bit until it broke and had to recharge.
Many of the smaller insects splat against the barrier with enough force to become smears. The few who managed to get within the energy field did their best to sting and bite anything they would land on. The black wasp’s acid ball splashes over the barrier before it would latch with its scything talons. Its strong mandibles snap against it, draining the field’s battery rapidly
“C’mon Thunder, shake ’em off!” He begins to do barrel rolls to try to shake the black wasp off. After a few rolls for momentum, he disengaged the shield manually with an outward burst of force, hoping to totally dislodge the wasp and line it up for a drill of shots.
Its frontal main talons flail against the shield as Crimson what he could to remove the wasp. The smaller insects were insignificant as they could not keep up with the aerial twists and turns. The black wasp hissed-screeched as it was flung away from the custom aircraft. Its wings fighting to keep itself from going any further away from its prey.
“Net-o-matic, go!” He fires off a net from a small auxiliary cannon on the front of the plane, attempting to tether the wasp and force it to drop to the ground.
The net would snag onto a wing and tangle within the tightly woven cord. Thrashing wildly as it plummeted to the jungle floor, its talons further caused the wasp to become trapped before crashing with a loud muffled thud. The cloud of insects follows after their brood matriarch leaving the skies peaceful again.
That peace would be a brief respite as the buzzing from before only grew. The ground below seemed to writhe before more silithid creatures spill from the earth. Most were ground dwelling, but several others extend wings from armored carapaces to give chase to whomever brought danger to their hive.
“Blegch. Nasty little buggers. Thunder, gimme the location I’m dropping this again.” He pressed a few buttons on the console and a screen popped up with a map.
// Destination: Staghelm Point – Silithus Alliance Camp north of The Scar Contact: Silithid Researcher Tammy Tinkspinner
“Not much farther. I don’t got enough juice to waste on another Turbo, so I’ll just have to cruise and hope to avoid any more air traffic.”
The silithid hive on the ground seemed limitless as more and more pour from their tunnels below. While most were not within range of the Oiled Thunder, some would rear up and send needle like projectiles to pierce the hull. The fliers that would take flight would give chase but as Crimson left the scene toward Silithus’s border with the looming sword in view, they would return to the mound or chase after other native flying creatures of the Crater.
The Wound still resembled a wasteland, not much improvement from its previous state before Sargeras pierced Azeroth at the end of the third Legion invasion. Arid winds swept from the nearby coast giving little reprieve. Still there were pockets of exposed Azerite pools and little to no wildlife on the surface. As Crimson crosses the border, movement of rock shifts and forms together. Chunks of Azerite form and stack onto each other while a giant slab floats above it. The angered elemental takes aim before launching the shard!
“YIKES!” He swerves the plane to the side, attempting to avoid the shard.
The huge vein of pure Azerite rockets past the agile plane. More and more elementals build up from the very ground to send a volley at the gnome. If his radio channels are open, a transmission would come through.
“This is Tammy Tinkspinner from Staghelm Point! Come in! You really should not be flying out here! Quickly land at these co-ordinance! Over!”
“Don’t tell me what to do! Roger that, on my way!” He heads over to the meeting point.
The camp is small but clearly military driven. A lone gnome waves down the aircraft after placing a few purple smoke flares. The angered elementals ceanse fire before another rumble causes them to revert back to clumps of rock and Azerite.
“That was a close one! I recognize you from Boralus! What were you thinking flying over here? Didn’t I tell Mr. Bladebreaker that this area is a no-fly zone?” Tammy sighs, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, you did. And I told him I don’t believe in those! Hasn’t failed me yet, as you can see.” He hops down from the now-landed plane. The Thunder looked pretty roughed up, but Crim couldn’t seem to care less. He must be used to fixing it up. “So where do you want me to unload all this junk?”
Once the researcher saw the pilot was in adequate condition did her attentions shift onto the plane. The damage it sustained peaked her interests as the odd chitin needle imbedded in the hull were of Silithid design.
“Gnomeregan Forever’s supplies and personnel have been approved to be stationed right… Here!” The scientist points out a small plot with a pitched tent. “Will you be waiting here for your colleagues?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I dunno how long they’re plannin’ on taking, but figure I can kill some time fixin’ up the Thunder for the return trip.”
“I am sure they won’t be long. Especially since you saved them a lot of trouble of flying in all this equipment. There is not much for repairs but there is an experienced blacksmith that is around to assist!”
“Heh, I got everything I need right here!” He holds up his hand, which whirrs rapidly before swapping out his hand for a gnomish army knife. “That is unless you uh…. got any wreckage scrap lyin’ around…”
“Of course! There isn’t much but we do have an accumulated junk pile of failed experiments, broken surveying equipment, discarded military scrap from that uncomfortable goblin incursion that turned into a misunderstanding…”
Tammy continued to list the trash on the pile near the camp Fastblast could use. Shifting her stance by sticking her hip out and holding out her hand to count and re-count her digits.
Crim rubs his metal hands together, creating sparks. “Goblin trash? Now that’s my favorite kinda trash to use! Years workin’ out of the Gadgetzan dumpsters gave me a lotta experience, y’know. Anyway, thanks for your help lady. Now leave me to my work!” He tows the Thunder by hand over to the scrap pile.