[b]Pvt. Aden Robertson[/b]

While Aden found the weight of the machinegun comforting he was rapidly coming to hate the lack of communication the machine gun position afforded. Specifically for the various maneuvers that the vessel was performing.  

"Son of-" The deck tilted precariously underneath his feet. Gloves made his grip clumsy as he flailed for handholds; wrapping his arms around the gun's base. Aden lifted his head in time to see mass of trees level with his platform seem to skewer to his face. The scout gave a yelp as he tucked his face to the deck; feeling a shower of pine needles and branches fall onto his back; accompanied by a brief sound of tearing. 

Visions of a failing airship haunted his mind as Aden picked up his head at the lack of debris showering him. The skies around him clear as the ship started its now familiar climb. 

It was to shaky feet that Aden pulled himself to; using the gun pedestal as a support.