Kingsmouth Airport: Ellis Hill

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Ellis Hill

Airport

Yourself

I’ve been up and down the coast. Up and down a whole bunch of coasts, my whole life. Lot of machine shops, engine yards. Planes. Boats. Big boats. You could say I was a born fixer, a can-do man. The bosses point me at a problem, they know it’s gonna get fixed. I’ll find a way. In my experience, there’s nothing in the world that won’t yield with the right tools applied to it. Just might be my mantra. You gotta take pleasure in what you can do, don’t you agree? That’s important. Identify the problem, enact the solution, and reap the rewards of a job well done. Look, I don’t mean to sermonize. I’ll bet people are lining up to tell you what to believe. What rules you should follow, what morality they define. But if you can’t find pleasure in acting it out… Somebody with your assets, could be there’s another port out there for you. Keep it in mind.

Draug

Their spirit doesn’t break easy, the sea-beasts. Spending more time working them over than seeing to the planes. They’re about as resilient, and twice as stubborn. The sea breeds things tough, scours out weakness. That’s how it works. So I really have to go to town with the power tools. But spare the rod, spoil the abomination. These birds are all grounded till the fog lifts. The radio’s fritzed. I ask you, what else for a man to keep himself occupied with? Not whittling wood, not while we’re under invasion. So I’ve been siphoning off aviation fuel, using it for Greek fire. Lit ’em up and shit, they didn’t like that. No school like the old school when it comes to warfare. Extreme measures are timeless. Speaking of such, pray you’re out of here before the higher powers do so unto this whole island. Oh, you don’t think they have that planned? Drop the bombs and sow the salt. “An infamous land where nothing may be built for all time.”

The Fog

This storm, everything in it, it’ll pass. That’s the straight truth. And you know you can believe it, because I am all about certainty. Goes with my line of work. A certain method and certain results. Nobody wants to put their life or money in the hands of a betting man. My advice – and you can take it on board or not – is to learn what you can from this. Because this is a learning experience, like a bulldog getting its first blooding. Bad times show you how far these people are willing to go. Show you a few home truths about yourself. Get ready to see a bunch of appeals to virtue overturned. Now, I won’t be casting judgement on your actions. We’re not so different, you and I. At the end of the day, we’re fixers. We got a job to do, come hell, come high water. Come hell outta high water.

Runaway Lights

According to Ellis Hill, the generator at the airport has been acting up and the reliability of the runway lights suffers from it. The sea beasts get bolder in the dark, so it’s in everyone’s interest that the lights stay on. The generator supplies a network of wiring systems all over the airport. They might need maintenance. I’ll check out the blueprints, then head to the runway passages to fix any potential problems.

 
The airport is a significant access point. Now, if anyone tries to come or go, we will know about it. However, one begins to wonder: are there enough generators in the world to pierce the mysteries of Kingsmouth? It feels as though we are lighting candles in the void. Each new flicker emphasises the darkness around us. But we will persist. We shall light a thousand if we must. We shall sooner burn the island in a blaze of revelation than allow ourselves to remain ignorant of its truths.

Dead Air

Ellis Hill is having radio reception issues – while he claims to only be interested in civilian channels, his demeanor suggests otherwise. What manner of transmission is he so eager to receive, and to conceal from me?  According to Hill, the airport’s radio mast is beyond do-it-yourself repair. He seemed a little too insistent on this, however.  I think i’ll investigate this mast for myself.

I climbed up to the antenna, which was indeed broken, and noticed a placard with a serial number and the manufacturer.

I went to http://manticore.orochi-group.com/?page=products and entered the serial number from the placard and found out the following:

Product ID: 3881999

Product Number: Cyclone series mast

Product Description: The Cyclone series is specifically designed for remote area installation and maintenance. No cranes are needed, sections are lightweight, and provisional repairs can be carried out without recourse to specialized parts and labor. Primary components: brackets, anchors, antennas, lightning arrestors. Provisional repair materials: household adhesives, conductors and amplifiers.

Scrounging around the airport I located all of the repair materials and proceeded to fix the antenna.  A Morse code was broadcasting.  Once deciphered, it lead to Drop Location 712, 536.

Location 712, 536

 At the identified location I found the Phoenicians guarding a crate that was just airlifted onto the island.  After dispatching the two guards I opened the crate and found some sort of filth monster, which was easily defeated.

These fragmenting patterns please us. Chaos is upon you, moves around you, like iron filings to a magnet. This island has not felt so many disruptive influences since it was first thrust out of the sea. Let these mercenaries come with their living weapons. Let the other societies loose their agents. Let those who have yet to show their knife-hand scheme in the shadows. Their swords will clash and blunt themselves. In the end, you shall tread over their blades, untouched. The crash of an event that none foresaw still makes a sound. Listen as they fall all around you.
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