Flying Circus: The Tankbred. (F/Any. Freeform. RPG Setting.).

[Lustful Bride]

The continent of Himmilgard was always a hotspot for conflict as world powers all wanted it and its vast stores of mystical materials and natural resources. Even the many different nations within the continent tended to fight with one another for those same reasons, balkanizing it all instead of uniting the peoples, even if it would have made them much stronger to be together. But that just isn't in our nature, and beings like the Gods beneath the waves, and the Fae of the woods do so love to see the little wars that mortals have.

The rest of the world wasn't starved for the resources that Himmilgard had in its mountains and beneath its hills. But the abundance of them on the continent was too much to pass up...what was the harm in having more? Why should these pitiful nations have so much when others can properly use it and benefit from them? Especially if you could deny it to those you considered your enemies?

Such was the case of Albion and Usonia, two mighty nations from the West, that stood together out of convenience, despite ancestral conflicts, and in opposition to their ultimate rival in the East. Both nations had not been fast friends, and war had nearly broken out between them many times. But both might as well have been brothers when compared to their mutual hatred of the damnable Xylvania and their noble families. Each one would rather be burned to ashes than to be forced to bend the knee to blue blooded nobles who ruled over the most polluted and toxic nation on the planet.

When it came to mineral wealth Xylvania could throw Gold, Steel, Iron, and more, around the way everyone else threw around spare change found under their seat cushions. Their industry was always marching on as their blasted lands never had to worry about poisoning the ground water, or uprooting plant life (as if any had survived whatever catastrophe created that blighted place), and even if they did have some to spare, they always had enough materials to simply buy what they wanted or needed from other nations. Not to mention no shortage of labor.

Everyone knew about it...but no one wanted to think about it. Perhaps if they had, then Xylvania would not have been as deadly as it had been in the Great War. Maybe some one would have stepped in earlier, and stopped them from being the threat they would one day be. But life is full of countless 'Maybes' and 'What Ifs" that haunt our dreams.

The Xylvanians had more than enough precious metals to go around. They didn't need to hog the primary sources of the world's mystical fuels or alchemical materials. But they were going to do it anyway.

That was just one of many stress factors that inevitably led to the terrible global war which consumed every part of their world, with a great deal of fighting being in and around Himmilgard itself. The constant conflict was unlike anything ever seen. Warfare on an industrialized scale, death spells coming out as fast as bullets. Mystical creatures turned into superweapons, ancient artifacts brought to life with horrible consequences. Entire towns and cities were exterminated by poison gas attacks, or even by rogue war machines, until all the soldiers and all the generals and all the weapons designers were dead, along with the people they made their targets.

Whatever Gods or spirits had created man, turned their backs upon humanity during those terrible years. The skies were lit up with fire and flame, the sun was blocked out by the many burning wrecks that fell, or the burning forests that went out of control as the land itself was murdered, or even just by the passing of massive Air Leviathans.

There is nothing left now. No radio signals. No newspapers. No way to travel across the world, no ships strong enough to make the voyages. No final word on who won, or if anyone else is even still alive. The world might as well be dead.

As far as the survivors on the continent of Himmilgard know, they are the last survivors on the entire planet. But along with the native populations of the continent, there were also survivors of the Xylvanians on the continent, and survivors of Albion and Usonia, that are now left to pick up the pieces as the days turn to weeks, months, years, and decades.

Albion was a naval powerhouse, but had neglected to properly prepare for the latest in aeronautical advancements from their enemies and their allies. Still, even the Xylvanians had to learn to fear their Nautilus class ships. Rare as they were, a foe that could rise up from the deeps of the ocean was not to be treated lightly. A lesson that had given the Xylvanians many broken noses.

Usonia always loved to boast itself as a bastion of peace, progress, and equality, somehow making a name for itself while constantly batting 500 on each of those. But they did have impressive technology, prototypes, and....other less moral inventions, such as the Synthetic Humans which they created at the tail end of the war, to deal with the endless Necrotic abominations that the Xylvanians were deploying. If the enemy could deploy a hundred men, then make every one of your own fight like a hundred. Same as the Usonian policy on their planes.

They may not have had as many biplanes as the other nations. But their Monoplanes were things of beauty. The latest Usonian tech was being field tested on the continent, and able to rip apart Xylvanian planes with ease, so long as it wasn't a 5 to one fight. Too bad it wasn't enough to make the war end decisively in their favor.

Since the end of the war 20 years ago, no one has heard or seen the Albionians, the Xylvanians, or the Usonians in a long time, not since the final days of the war when the mighty Albionian fleet and several squadrons of Usonian Monoplanes set out to destroy one of the enemy Xylvanians floating city fortresses as a last huzzah when the lights had all gone out across the globe. Only a few Albionians still live on the continent now, scattered and sometimes congregating near the seas, in hopes of one day seeing a ship coming to take them home.

The Usonians are a little more numerous, but congregate the most around their old airbases and have established little hamlets and towns to preserve their culture in case they really are the last of their people. Which caused a bit of an issue with the Synths that were now left stranded without a land to call their own, and without a war to fight.

The Tankbred/Vatborn Synthetic humans were an oddity to many. Leftover weapons from a war that is still being fought, and yet not being fought. They were just yet another remnant of that old war that was up and moving about, yet one that could actually talk and communicate with others. The Tankbred had been grown in vats of primordial soup, producing life and molded to the exact specifications of their mysterious makers back in Usonia. Grown in a short amount of time they could be stored away in their tanks to remain sleeping and being educated by the tank itself until they could be awoken and would be able to to the job as competently as any trained officer, pilot, sailor, soldier. Why waste time training and then paying soldiers when you could just grow them the Usonian way? Truly Usonian industry was wondrous!

But without their tanks to put them back to sleep, the Synths were free to roam about, to think, to grow, and become their own people.

Three years ago a series of Usonian Synth tanks were found in a crashed airship. It had never made it to its destination during the war, but its precious cargo remained intact. A full hold of a new series of Synth pilots, mechanics, and their equipment, with even intact Monoplanes for them to use! A gold mine for any faction who managed to lay claim to them.

Luckily they were picked up by scavengers who were in it for the exploration, rather than for a military weapon, and accidentally awoken to a new world where the war was over, but the world wasn't a safe place.

Fresh out of the tank, they had little to do and no command structure to go on. The only comfort they found was in each other, and in their tradition of service and duty. They moved together as one and scavenged all they could of their own wrecks, and those of other Usonian ships, some with even more Tankbred within them! But what could these old relics really do?

Some of them began offering up their services to any that could pay (An incredibly common job in this new era of history), and others focused on trying to find Usonian enclaves to rejoin their own people, while others congregate together and try to keep their units alive as they go in search of other Synths that may still be out there or even turn into do gooders with guns that fight threats to local civilians.

Especially when they hear news of a new fascist enemy known as the 'Goths' with Xylvanian advisors leading the way. They have access to old world relics, and have been arming up to hunt down more of them, while also exterminating all resistance to their growing influence. Like a cancerous tumor the Goths spread their influence, with the Tankbred being the only real source of an immune response to them. Especially when it is discovered that the Xylvanian led Goths have been earching for other Synth tanks....and killing their sleeping brothers and sisters at their most vulnerable moment.

Several crashed, or inert Synth ships have been found, blown up, burnt to ashes, or with each synth dead within their own tank, killed without even being given the chance at a fair fight. It is clear now that the Xylvanians aren't interested in making use of the Synths. They just want the Tankbred all dead within their artificial wombs, so no one can be left to stand up to the Goths (and their Xylvanian masters) as they build their new empire.

Even if this new era was one of reconstruction, discovery, and healing, there are always those that will be out there who only seek to take. Who can only find pleasure in inflicting malicious pain upon others. Those that life to rob, rape, kill, loot, burn. They can know no other way, and they don't give a good Godsdamned about who gets hurt, so long as they get what they want. They would burn the whole world to ashes if it meant they could have that tiny bit more of fun and pleasure than anyone else.

Some of them were little more than thieves and murderers in patchwork uniforms, daring to call themselves soldiers. Well, if that is the case, then Soldiers deserve Soldiers.

The fighting between the Synthetic, Tankbred, Humans and the swarms of Goth Raiders mimics alot of the fighting of the old war, with the Synths able to take on multiple goths at once, but for every one Goth they bring down, there are always a hundred more ready to take their place, as they swarm individual Tankbred, like a swarm of angry ants over a single larger bug. The Synths need to find more of their kind, or for some measure of supply lines if they want to keep the right up against the Goths.

Their search takes them North, to areas that were never really under the protective banner of Usonia and Albion, leading the locals to meet the synths for the first time, and being amazed at how....human they are.

It is only with time that the people begin to see how different these Synths are to the average person. Male Synths tend to be called Hydras due to their regenerative abilities and usual roll in ground squads as the heavy hitters. They tend to be built like bricks, and able to hand most people their own asses, even those whose skillsets were designed around flying and are thinner in nature tend to be taller and bigger than non synthetics. (Though you can still pretty easily tell a ground pounder from a flyboy).

While the female Tankbred are called Furies for multiple reasons. The main one being that while they look beautiful and humanoid most of the time, all one has to do is induce stress or a flight or flight reaction for long enough....and you will see the real them come out.

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Why they were designed this way is something only the original designers and command staff could tell you...but none of them are alive anymore to really tell the truth. Experimentation has lead some to find that the Synths are fully fertile and capable. They come in tanks but once they are out they are fully grown and mature. A self sustaining workforce all programmed with loyalty to Usonia and to their many synthetic brothers and sisters. That might mean a lot if Usonia were still around. Now the only true loyalty Synths have is to one another, and those non-synths that they form a bond with.

One of these Synth Searcher groups has decided to put down roots and offer their services in one of the few surviving settlements in the continent with running power, water, and the facilities to repair their equipment. There are even vendors of planes and plane parts within the city.....shady and scummy as some of them may be.

Fentimar city was nothing special all those years ago. But in the new world it is a shining beacon of progress, industry, and a big gleaming target for the Goths or for those that want to steal its plentiful bounty for themselves. The tankbred do not swear fealty to the city state of Fentimar, but they serve and protect it against all foes, especially those with remaining loyalties to Xylvania, or ties to the local pirate and bandit clans.

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From their own little private island airstrip and base, the Synths sell their services back to Fentimar, offering it protection, while individual pilots or squadrons can sometimes take up mercenary work for other settlements. It has worked out well for them so far, and some have even become local celebrities and heroes or heroines, inspiring the people and captivating them with tales of grand flights against their enemies, or against still active automated weapons from the war, or roving monsters that hide in the forests, among the clouds, or claim dominion over the skies.

Among those gaining some notoriety for their acts of heroism is a young Fury Synth pilot who was originally trained to be a staff member, but found herself a natural skill flying among the clouds. This Fury has proven that Synths can go beyond their original programming after she managed to down three enemy planes and conducted a successful strafing run against a column of vehicles owned by bandits who actually had a guntruck, firing up at her with AA. To other synths she is an inspiration, and to the people of Fentimar she is one of many heroes that have come from that fascinating island airstrip owned by the best that Usonia had to offer.

The Fury herself just wants to do her part to help the world get better, and find any surviving Synth Hydras and Furies that have yet to be awoken, before the Xylvanian loyalists kill them in their tanks.

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She's more than happy to sign autographs or retell her stories to anyone that asks, but she likes to put her work first. Synthetic human or not, she is still a soldier, a professional soldier, and she likes to look like that in public. To be the model Synthetic trooper who never gives up and never surrenders....but her designers made her kind too human...the stress still gets to them and in public she tries to deal with it in healthier ways, going for walks, listening to music, reading, all helping keep her heroic image that is being built up.

In private though she has......other ways of dealing with stress.

But whatever the world throws at her, she is sure she can take it, and will keep on flying through the skies among angels, for so long as a single breath remains within her lungs. For Usonia and for the Tankbred, she takes to the skies above Fentimar and Himmilgard. The skies will remain free so long as she has something to say about it.



So there is my attempt at making my own little spin on Flying Circus, with even a way to work in the lustful vice as part of the narrative.

My muse went crazy I ended up adding in things to the setting that were not originally there, but i like it :)

If you dont know what I'm talking about its this.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

https://youtu.be/AUluBUSl6w8

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

https://youtu.be/DHeihMqE0MU

Not sure if it can actually work in a  Freeform style, but I had alot of fun making this, polishing it up, and figuring some stuff out. Hopefully you enjoyed reading it, even if you have no interest in playing.