Haslanti Airships

Today above the greenfields, a small fleet review was occurring. Numbering twenty in all, two three first class vessels and seventeen second class as escorts. The Eyes of the North had arranged for this, but they weren't the ones reviewing. Archon Whispering Gale was, near the end of her six year term, everything seemed so ponderous to her lately. So much extra protocol, so much extra decorum.

She cast her gaze at the smaller ships.

consists of a rigid, sausage-shaped balloon of silk treated with refined grease from the black walrus, approximately 300 feet long.

Driven by pedal-driven propellers, the airships had a large bag atop its structure to provide lift, with six masts, two through the gasbag, and two to each side, with massive square sails tied to those masts. She wasn't unused to their operation, she'd been crew on one, a lifetime ago, it's where she met her third husband.

She also knew the greatest weakness of the air boats is the large tanks of whale oil they must carry and burn to stay afloat. A class 2 boat was nimble and speedy, but a sitting target for faster, more nimble flying craft, or as she had discovered to her sorrow. The River Province Swooping Hawks employed by the Metagalapans, on that one strike, years ago.

The class 1 boat, it didn't have this vulnerability, carrying a sorcerer, and being larger, more agile, and faster, as well as better protected. She'd never served on one, but now, cantankerous protocol or not, she was always invited if one was around...

It always brought Rightfed Fred to her mind. He was a sweet soul, always kind and generous. He'd been a class 2 first officer, when they met. Brave, to the point of recklessness he was.