Where our zeppelin buff of an MC get's truck-kunned into another world!

James T. Rawlins was a dirigible-nut. Ever since he saw one for the first time as a child, soaring through the air above him like some god's chariot, and then getting to ride it thanks to his uncle, they had stayed almost permanently on his mind. Over the years, he had read all he could on them, had found ways to make all his schools projects about airships, created a blog dedicated to them, and built models and even a couple miniature remote controlled ones.

And on that faithful day in his 25th year on Earth, airships where just a little more on his mind than usual: He had recently completed his pilot training, and had applied to work on one of the blimps that often flew over sports stadium. Thus, he didn't pay much attention as he was crossing an intersection, and until the very last split second did not see the cement truck with the passed out driver barrelling towards him.

Next thing he knew, he was in some quiet, empty place filled with white light. For a moment, he stayed frozen as he had been, looking to his left.

“What the f-!”

“Greetings, Mr Rawlins.” A voice said in front of him. There stood a tall man in a white three piece suit and a top hat the same colour. The man's face was painted in vivid clown make up, complete with big, shiny red nose, and he wore large, shiny white clown shoes. He doffed his hat towards James, revealing a thick ball of curly orange hair that instantly puffed out, then smoothly disappeared as he put the hat back on.

“My name is Pascal Vivaldi!” The sharply dressed clown continued, “I'm the Ring Leader of the Dimensional Circus Troupe, and also the Manager of the Transmigrators for the world of Azgaea. It is because of that second role that we're meeting today.”

“Wait, what? Trans....migrators? Isn't that something to do with re-incarnation?”

“Indeed it does!”

“So that means I've...died?”

“Sadly, yes.” Vivaldi nodded with a serious expression one would expect from a funeral director. “You where hit full on by that cement truck you caught a glimpse of. You died instantly. That's the bad news.” Then, the painted face broke into a wide smile. “The good news is I'm going to send you to another world that is right up your alley: an industrializing fantasy world where airships rule the skies! And the even better news is, I'm going to grant you something called a Crest. I give one to all transmigrators, and these give them, within certain limitations, special abilities usually tailored after their interests back on Earth. Like, and affinity for cooking, hunting, farming, inventing, cataloguing massive libraries, etc. Yours will be the “Airship King”. To summarize, it will allow you to design and build your very own airships! All you'll need are the right materials!”

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Seriously!?” He erupted with a huge smile, then pumping his fist. “That sounds awesome! Man, I hope this isn't some crazy dream I'm having, because I'd be the saddest bastard in existence when I wake up!

“Love your enthusiasm.” Vivaldi commented, “ And fear not, this isn't a dream or an hallucination.”

“But wait a sec...” The smile faded from James' face, and he turned back towards Vivaldi. “Do I need to do something over there? You don't need me to save the world or something like that, do you?”

“Oh, no, this world doesn't need saving anymore. Others that came before you took care of that bit of business. And since that has been settled, I've taken upon myself to keep the show going on, as it were, to make sure things stay interesting. With that in mind, I snag the odd soul from Earth, mostly people with keen interests who aren't too weighted down in some way by their previous lives, and whom I think will enrich the other world. So, like the others I've sent to Azgaea since the Grand Plan concluded with mighty success, you don't need to do anything in particular. Just give it your best shot and live your life however you see fit. You don't even really need to use the Crest I'll give you, though I think it's unlikely to be the route you'll go with.”

“Oh, you better believe I'm going to use this thing to the MAX!”

“Glad to hear it. Now, a few things before I shuffle you off on your merry way. By default, you'd be re-incarnated in a copy of your old Earthly body, minus any birth defect, missing parts, ailments or diseases. However, you do have the option to make modifications to your appearance if you wish.”

Vivaldi snapped his fingers , and a mirror appeared in front of James. Reflected in it was the same guy he'd seen in the bathroom mirror every morning since high school. The tall, largely fit and somewhat athletic body. The lightly tanned skin. The bright green eyes. The mole under the left one. The clean shaved face. The long, straight jet black hair tied in a tight ponytail at the back of his head. He was even wearing the same clothes as this morning: Loose blue jeans, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and black leather hiking boots.

James looked himself over, the first time he had done so with any amount of interest for quite a while. After a moment, he shrugged. “Been fine so far with how I was. So I guess plain old me is fine.”

“Capital!” Vivaldi snapped his fingers again, and the mirror disappeared in a puff of smoke. “You'll be getting a modest-sized Item Box, which is basically a Pocket Dimension you can always access and store things in. Just think the words “Open Inventory” to access it. You'll find what amounts to a survival kit in there. Nothing fancy, just basic stuff you'll need to survive a while.”

He took out a piece of paper, perused it for a second, and then went on.”Oh, and speaking of survival, I would advise you to be somewhat cautious. Your particular Crest will not improve your personal fighting abilities, and even the common wildlife in this new world is usually bigger, meaner, hungrier and more versatile than what you find on old planet Earth. I don't do re-incarnation for people who die on the Azgaean side, so be careful if you want to enjoy things for more than five minutes. Finally, your Crest: It'll manifest as a sort of magical tattoo on your left hand. Just look at it and think “Activate”. The interface will pop up, and you'll meet your cute lil' assistant. They'll give you a basic walkthrough, explaining how everything works. Afterwards, they'll help you manage the most tricky bits of business related to your crest. And that covers the checklist!” The piece of paper he'd been holding disappeared in yet another puff of smoke. “Any questions?”

“....Nothing comes to mind, so that's a no I guess.”  

“Fantastic!” Vivaldi beamed, and then squeezed his big red nose, which let out an echoing honk. A bright circle of light appeared around James' feet, and quickly became progressively brighter, until James could no longer see Vivaldi, then he got a feeling of falling down, and everything went black.