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origfic_bingo challenges! I'm afraid that my prompt choice was all over the shop, so I don't know if this counts as proper bingo or not. Anywhoo, I'm putting all the ones for my Steampunk Robin Hood in this post, then I'll post the other two in posts of their own. Sorry for spamming you like this.
A Rude Awakening
Resplendent in red and gold, the Cloudburster rose out of New Nottingham sky-harbour like a very stately whale. Over half as big again as the largest airship built yet, this first and newest in the line of Lionheart luxury airships was intended to be a display of the wealth and ingenuity of the New Nottingham shipbuilders. As it ascended, the passengers cheered and toasted one another with champagne. They were the cream of society, and had paid highly for the privilege of travelling on the Cloudburster for her maiden voyage. A small automated orchestra struck up some patriotic tunes and waitresses circulated with more drinks. All in all, the guests agreed that it was a perfectly splendid occasion.
Far below, a small cluster of black specks detached from the slums surrounding the sky-harbour and rose rapidly.
The first anybody knew of the attack was the sudden listing of the airship as grappling hooks snared the netting holding the gas envelope in place. Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd as they clustered around the windows, searching the clouds for a glimpse of their assailants. They could only catch small hints- the flickering of a coat, or the exhaust of their one-man ornithopters. Slowly, the panic spread. Sky-bandits. Over at the buffet, Vasey Sheriff, acting head of Lionheart airships, grabbed the nearest waitress.
"Get on the intercom, you stupid woman! We're under attack!"
The ballroom doors swung open. Vasey turned and gaped at the hooded figure who had appeared on deck. Behind him, several more masked and hooded men and women swarmed through the gap.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please." The newcomer stepped lightly into the centre of the room. He was dressed plainly, in sharp contrast to the bright attire of the guests- a short, dark brown jacket, brown trousers tucked into worn boots, a dark green hood and altitude mask covering his face."As Mister Vasey declined to invite us to the launch of his illustrious airship, my companions and I saw fit to invite ourselves, if only to collect a certain small debt you have neglected to pay us."
The other bandits swarmed among the guests, stripping them of their valuables. The weapons that dangled at their hips were for the most part not used- this had been a pleasure trip and nothing like this had been expected. Nobody had been foolish enough to attack a Lionheart airship in British airspace for fifty years.
The man came to Vasey, and held out his hand. It was hard to tell under the mask, but his face moved in a way that suggested a smile.
"Your tiepin, sir."
The acting manager's hand rose to his neck protectively. "Certainly not!"
"Mister Sheriff, perhaps I have not made myself clear. We are armed. We are on your ship. And some of us are quite angry." He drew an automated crossbow- and this was totally absurd, everybody used pistols nowadays, what was this man playing at- and pointed it at Vasey. "Your tiepin. Sir."
But however ridiculous the idea was, Sheriff was unarmed and definitely not arrowproof. Slowly, he unpinned his tie and dropped the slender gold stick into the man's outstretch palm. It was a nice one, too- a small golden replica of the Cloudburster formed the top. He'd had it made specially.
"My thanks." The man gave a mock bow and rejoined his companions who, having finished their collection, were streaming back out of the door.
"Your donations are very welcome indeed, ladies and gentlemen. But should you be under the mistaken impression that this is a one-time deal, know this: I am watching. And I am tired of not liking what I see."
"We need to go-" One of the other bandits had started to pluck at their leader's sleeve, but the man shook her off. Through the windows, the passengers could see the familiar silver and blue hulk of the New Nottingham Air Division drawing closer.
"And so, ladies and gentlemen, I am- what is it?"
Finally, the hooded man looked up and blanched visibly. "Yes, well, that's that then. Urm, yes, you get the idea- I'll be watching, so on and so forth. Goodbye, everybody!"
The bandits turned tail and ran, their one-man flying vehicles dropping out of the sky shortly after. When the Air Divison boarded, Vasey wasted no time in describing their assailants to the chief detective.
"I don't care what you do." He growled, pressing a hefty wad of cash into his hand as an extra incentive. "I want this Hood found."
Marian Makes A List
Marian Madeley was making a list. Or rather, to be more correct, she was making two lists. The first was a straightforward column of numbers- the ingoing and outgoing funds for Lionheart Airships' last month. It was not especially taxing and this led her to the compilation of the second, entirely mental list- everything she hated about her boss, Vasey Sheriff. His hair, she decided, absently scratching another row of figures into the ledger. His horrible taste in waistcoats. The way he takes every opportunity to stand over me at my desk and lean forward into my back. His disgusting breath. The way his face does not go consistently purple when he is angry (which is often).
She sighed and dipped the steel nib of her pen into the inkwell, taking care not to splash it. Of course she could have had a much more modern fountain pen, or even an automated writing-desk, but Sheriff was much too miserly for such expensive contrivances when good old pen-and-ink worked just as well. This too she added to the list. Marian was just getting to a detailed explanation of the particularly unctuous way Sheriff called her 'my dear' when a shadow fell across her desk. She looked up.
"Tea, Miss Madeley?" It was only Locksley the clerk, but she smiled at him anyway. She liked Locksley. He was diligent, quiet and quite funny when he forgot himself. She'd also noticed (entirely objectively, of course) that he was rather good looking, in a clerky sort of way.
"Yes please." Marian held out her cup and watched him leave wistfully. The fact that he shouts a lot at Locksley, she decided, getting back to her numbers. And that most of the time it is not deserved. The next few columns were a little tricky numerically and so Marian did not add more items to her other list until the man himself stormed in and started tearing into the nearest person. Thanks to the convenient positioning of the boiler and kettle, it happened to be Locksley.
"LOCKSLEY! What the devil d'you think you're doing?"
The clerk looked at Sheriff, wondering if this was a trick question.
"I'm making tea, sir." He looked down at the teapot in his hand, then back to his boss. "Would you like some?"
"Are you the housemaid now?" Sheriff fumed, somehow contriving to talk down a man several inches taller than he was. "We have other people for that!"
Marian was indignant when she noticed that Vasey was pointing at her. The only daughter of the late Lord Madeley did not make tea, even if she had recently fallen upon significantly reduced circumstances. This, she decided, was a late entry for item number one.
Vasey stabbed a porky finger into Locksley's chest. "Get back to work, you idiot, and if I catch you dodging your duties again I'll fire you- and then where will you and your mother be, eh? I don't care who your father was, if you don't work you don't have a job." He jabbed the finger again, hard. "Simple as."
Locksley returned to work, mouthing sorry, Miss as he passed Marian's desk. She responded with a shrug, and in return he made silly, Vasey-esque face. It was quite hard to think of anything after that, so she decided not to add anything more to her mental list for the rest of the day. When Marian went home, she took her lists with her in her head: the revised enumeration of Sheriff's faults, and the second, secret copy of the figures in her ledger. Marian had quite the collection now, and so far the Ministry of Finance was very interested in them indeed.
---
Rob Does Something Stupid
Locksley (better known to his friends as Rob) did not have the luxury of going home at the same time as Marian. He had to wait until much, much later, and walk the dark and wintry streets of New Nottingham quite alone. Not that Rob noticed much- like Marian, he had a lot going on in his head. He was worrying about his best friend John or, more accurately, his best friend John's wedding. John 'Titch' (a schoolboy joke- John was over six feet) Little had been engaged to Scarlett Williams when Rob had left for university to learn technical drawing like his father. Three years later, when Edward Locksley had died and Rob had come home to support his family, John and Scarlett still had yet to tie the knot. It was becoming increasingly unlikely that they would ever get married. Lionheart simply didn't pay enough for them both to support their respective families and save for a wedding at the same time. Things had gotten even worse when Sheriff took over. And of course neither John nor Scarlett would consider eloping. They both had large families and too many responsibilities.
Though it wasn't obvious from the outside, Rob was a worrier. He was, in fact the worst kind- the kind of worrier who keeps all his thoughts to himself until they become too much to bear and he did something silly. This could be as simple as the time in school when he climbed to the roof to get back John's football, fell off, and broke his leg. It could be as complex as, the next day, holding Sheriff's chequebook in his hands and wondering how much money the new boss would really miss. Or how much he really deserved. And then looking up to where the hulk of the Cloudburster loomed above the shipyard and thinking of the decommissioning of his dad's old Rebecca, and how easy it would be to take back the debt.
"Locksley?" Marian's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Did you want tea or not?"
"Oh, er, not for me, Miss." Rob blinked the glint of gold from his eyes and grinned at her absently. 'Got to go and talk with some of the lads on the production line. Big project in the works."
Marian nodded and turned back to the teapot. What an odd fellow, she thought to herself. If he woke up, he might actually amount to something.
origfic_bingo challenges! I'm afraid that my prompt choice was all over the shop, so I don't know if this counts as proper bingo or not. Anywhoo, I'm putting all the ones for my Steampunk Robin Hood in this post, then I'll post the other two in posts of their own. Sorry for spamming you like this.A Rude Awakening
Resplendent in red and gold, the Cloudburster rose out of New Nottingham sky-harbour like a very stately whale. Over half as big again as the largest airship built yet, this first and newest in the line of Lionheart luxury airships was intended to be a display of the wealth and ingenuity of the New Nottingham shipbuilders. As it ascended, the passengers cheered and toasted one another with champagne. They were the cream of society, and had paid highly for the privilege of travelling on the Cloudburster for her maiden voyage. A small automated orchestra struck up some patriotic tunes and waitresses circulated with more drinks. All in all, the guests agreed that it was a perfectly splendid occasion.
Far below, a small cluster of black specks detached from the slums surrounding the sky-harbour and rose rapidly.
The first anybody knew of the attack was the sudden listing of the airship as grappling hooks snared the netting holding the gas envelope in place. Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd as they clustered around the windows, searching the clouds for a glimpse of their assailants. They could only catch small hints- the flickering of a coat, or the exhaust of their one-man ornithopters. Slowly, the panic spread. Sky-bandits. Over at the buffet, Vasey Sheriff, acting head of Lionheart airships, grabbed the nearest waitress.
"Get on the intercom, you stupid woman! We're under attack!"
The ballroom doors swung open. Vasey turned and gaped at the hooded figure who had appeared on deck. Behind him, several more masked and hooded men and women swarmed through the gap.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please." The newcomer stepped lightly into the centre of the room. He was dressed plainly, in sharp contrast to the bright attire of the guests- a short, dark brown jacket, brown trousers tucked into worn boots, a dark green hood and altitude mask covering his face."As Mister Vasey declined to invite us to the launch of his illustrious airship, my companions and I saw fit to invite ourselves, if only to collect a certain small debt you have neglected to pay us."
The other bandits swarmed among the guests, stripping them of their valuables. The weapons that dangled at their hips were for the most part not used- this had been a pleasure trip and nothing like this had been expected. Nobody had been foolish enough to attack a Lionheart airship in British airspace for fifty years.
The man came to Vasey, and held out his hand. It was hard to tell under the mask, but his face moved in a way that suggested a smile.
"Your tiepin, sir."
The acting manager's hand rose to his neck protectively. "Certainly not!"
"Mister Sheriff, perhaps I have not made myself clear. We are armed. We are on your ship. And some of us are quite angry." He drew an automated crossbow- and this was totally absurd, everybody used pistols nowadays, what was this man playing at- and pointed it at Vasey. "Your tiepin. Sir."
But however ridiculous the idea was, Sheriff was unarmed and definitely not arrowproof. Slowly, he unpinned his tie and dropped the slender gold stick into the man's outstretch palm. It was a nice one, too- a small golden replica of the Cloudburster formed the top. He'd had it made specially.
"My thanks." The man gave a mock bow and rejoined his companions who, having finished their collection, were streaming back out of the door.
"Your donations are very welcome indeed, ladies and gentlemen. But should you be under the mistaken impression that this is a one-time deal, know this: I am watching. And I am tired of not liking what I see."
"We need to go-" One of the other bandits had started to pluck at their leader's sleeve, but the man shook her off. Through the windows, the passengers could see the familiar silver and blue hulk of the New Nottingham Air Division drawing closer.
"And so, ladies and gentlemen, I am- what is it?"
Finally, the hooded man looked up and blanched visibly. "Yes, well, that's that then. Urm, yes, you get the idea- I'll be watching, so on and so forth. Goodbye, everybody!"
The bandits turned tail and ran, their one-man flying vehicles dropping out of the sky shortly after. When the Air Divison boarded, Vasey wasted no time in describing their assailants to the chief detective.
"I don't care what you do." He growled, pressing a hefty wad of cash into his hand as an extra incentive. "I want this Hood found."
Marian Makes A List
Marian Madeley was making a list. Or rather, to be more correct, she was making two lists. The first was a straightforward column of numbers- the ingoing and outgoing funds for Lionheart Airships' last month. It was not especially taxing and this led her to the compilation of the second, entirely mental list- everything she hated about her boss, Vasey Sheriff. His hair, she decided, absently scratching another row of figures into the ledger. His horrible taste in waistcoats. The way he takes every opportunity to stand over me at my desk and lean forward into my back. His disgusting breath. The way his face does not go consistently purple when he is angry (which is often).
She sighed and dipped the steel nib of her pen into the inkwell, taking care not to splash it. Of course she could have had a much more modern fountain pen, or even an automated writing-desk, but Sheriff was much too miserly for such expensive contrivances when good old pen-and-ink worked just as well. This too she added to the list. Marian was just getting to a detailed explanation of the particularly unctuous way Sheriff called her 'my dear' when a shadow fell across her desk. She looked up.
"Tea, Miss Madeley?" It was only Locksley the clerk, but she smiled at him anyway. She liked Locksley. He was diligent, quiet and quite funny when he forgot himself. She'd also noticed (entirely objectively, of course) that he was rather good looking, in a clerky sort of way.
"Yes please." Marian held out her cup and watched him leave wistfully. The fact that he shouts a lot at Locksley, she decided, getting back to her numbers. And that most of the time it is not deserved. The next few columns were a little tricky numerically and so Marian did not add more items to her other list until the man himself stormed in and started tearing into the nearest person. Thanks to the convenient positioning of the boiler and kettle, it happened to be Locksley.
"LOCKSLEY! What the devil d'you think you're doing?"
The clerk looked at Sheriff, wondering if this was a trick question.
"I'm making tea, sir." He looked down at the teapot in his hand, then back to his boss. "Would you like some?"
"Are you the housemaid now?" Sheriff fumed, somehow contriving to talk down a man several inches taller than he was. "We have other people for that!"
Marian was indignant when she noticed that Vasey was pointing at her. The only daughter of the late Lord Madeley did not make tea, even if she had recently fallen upon significantly reduced circumstances. This, she decided, was a late entry for item number one.
Vasey stabbed a porky finger into Locksley's chest. "Get back to work, you idiot, and if I catch you dodging your duties again I'll fire you- and then where will you and your mother be, eh? I don't care who your father was, if you don't work you don't have a job." He jabbed the finger again, hard. "Simple as."
Locksley returned to work, mouthing sorry, Miss as he passed Marian's desk. She responded with a shrug, and in return he made silly, Vasey-esque face. It was quite hard to think of anything after that, so she decided not to add anything more to her mental list for the rest of the day. When Marian went home, she took her lists with her in her head: the revised enumeration of Sheriff's faults, and the second, secret copy of the figures in her ledger. Marian had quite the collection now, and so far the Ministry of Finance was very interested in them indeed.
---
Rob Does Something Stupid
Locksley (better known to his friends as Rob) did not have the luxury of going home at the same time as Marian. He had to wait until much, much later, and walk the dark and wintry streets of New Nottingham quite alone. Not that Rob noticed much- like Marian, he had a lot going on in his head. He was worrying about his best friend John or, more accurately, his best friend John's wedding. John 'Titch' (a schoolboy joke- John was over six feet) Little had been engaged to Scarlett Williams when Rob had left for university to learn technical drawing like his father. Three years later, when Edward Locksley had died and Rob had come home to support his family, John and Scarlett still had yet to tie the knot. It was becoming increasingly unlikely that they would ever get married. Lionheart simply didn't pay enough for them both to support their respective families and save for a wedding at the same time. Things had gotten even worse when Sheriff took over. And of course neither John nor Scarlett would consider eloping. They both had large families and too many responsibilities.
Though it wasn't obvious from the outside, Rob was a worrier. He was, in fact the worst kind- the kind of worrier who keeps all his thoughts to himself until they become too much to bear and he did something silly. This could be as simple as the time in school when he climbed to the roof to get back John's football, fell off, and broke his leg. It could be as complex as, the next day, holding Sheriff's chequebook in his hands and wondering how much money the new boss would really miss. Or how much he really deserved. And then looking up to where the hulk of the Cloudburster loomed above the shipyard and thinking of the decommissioning of his dad's old Rebecca, and how easy it would be to take back the debt.
"Locksley?" Marian's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Did you want tea or not?"
"Oh, er, not for me, Miss." Rob blinked the glint of gold from his eyes and grinned at her absently. 'Got to go and talk with some of the lads on the production line. Big project in the works."
Marian nodded and turned back to the teapot. What an odd fellow, she thought to herself. If he woke up, he might actually amount to something.
