SteamNES

At any rate, Shah Abbas is holding onto his cards and stalling the invasion in an attempt to break Duria before the first shots are fired. Its fortifications aren't getting significantly stronger, and the Durian Shah's power is eroding as people become more unsure of what's happening. There is also a notable fraction of Duria (hard to judge in size) who supports joining you, due to cultural/ethnic/religious similarity and out of pragmatism. So by delaying, Abbas is working to break the nation before he even declares war.

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Oh, come on. He had well over a year to destabilise things over there.

LittleBoots said:

...

That was spam just as much as anything he said.

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Well, somebody has to do it.

IC:

Great stories everyone, keep it up!

OOC: I was wondering if I can make a flying hawk with metals? My Specialization would be "animal imitation". Or maybe a circle borne balloon. The circles can be magnets that ionize a particulare gas and then react with a particular fuel to keep that air borne.

carmen510 said:

Well, somebody has to do it.

IC:

Great stories everyone, keep it up!

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Someone has to spam? And just to be nit-picky, IC means in-character. While I suppose it could colloquially come to be understood as "On topic" or "Related to this thread," I will choose to accept your statement as an in character letter to Kalim, who proceeds to use it in a long-winded speech about the patronizing tone of anyone who doesn't look like he does.

"Ye shall keep my statutes. Thou shalt not let thy cattle gender with a diverse kind: thou shalt not sow thy field with mingled seed: neither shall a garment mingled of linen and woolen come upon thee." - Leviticus 19:19

Ridges. Little ridges in the dust. Climb climb little ant. Building castles in the sand, tra la la. Castles, castles, for sandy men, and little ants. Men of sand return to dust tra la to dust to dust tra la la la. No, no, no, no. I wonder... No. The exact specifications are quite simple counsellor. No. There is no one there. Three feet by four, welded special to the chassis. Must use the right alloy. Used to run with steam. Focus focus. Train, forty kilometers per hour, with freight, going from Ostergott to Rheims with two stops for delays. The package would be on that train surely. No. Focus. No package. Train, Schlieffer model, new engine, more efficient, 30% less fuel used, 20% faster. Genius, that. Anyway, twenty five footer, the engine. Cab that is, not the steampot itself. Tugging capacity a little less, but not much. One or two cars cut, but cheaper still, saved the company thousands, hundreds of thousands. Across the rolling green and yellow.

I don't remember sunshine.

The door opened. He threw up his arm to shield his eyes from the light and fell into a coughing fit. A silhouette in the doorway. Noise.

"Calm, calm, little one. Are you frightened?"

Eastern accent, southern too. Not Anglian. Maybe good, probably bad. Doesn't matter.

"They haven't... haven't fed me today. Schedule's off. Every day, keep track of the time that way."

Didn't eat the stuff at first. After a while though... well, anyone would. Had to, didn't I? And they were offering. Not like I helped them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize they had treated you so. Would you like to eat now?"

The silhouette snapped his fingers and food was brought in, new food, not like normal. It smells... the smell... not like the mash. So good.

"Who are you? With them?"

"I am your friend, Tawfiq. I am your only friend."

Tawfiq... don't remember Tawfiq. Been in that room so long... not talked to anyone... is it Tawfiq? Sounds foreign...

"Tawfiq, who's Tawfiq? Thats not my name is it?"

"You are Tawfiq now, my friend. Tawfiq, the Reconciled. You have been rescued, my friend. God and I have found you. You were in a gutter when we saved you."

Gutter... don't remember that... Remember a big house. Lots of money. Nobody home though... odd that. Used to build things. Wait. They took me from the gutter. Put me in this hole, didn't they?

"You saved me? How'd I end up here?"

"It does not matter, my boy. Will you come out? Will you come with me? We shall find you some new clothes and get some more good food to eat."

Good fellow, this. Been so long since I've talked to anyone. Sounds nice enough, can't blame him for leaving me here. He's not one of them... whoever they are. But he's got me out.

"Yes... that would be nice... thank you, friend."

"It is my pleasure."

tuxedohamm said:

@ Iggy: I have the timing down right, but I wasn't sure about the current year. I believe it is 1458 now? If not let me know so maybe I can change the title of the post.

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Well, many countries have different calendars. One calendar, used in Nihojon, Bod, Singuo and several Southeastern States, records history from a point several millennia past where historical records begin with a legendary Emperor who ruled the entire east- and erased all history before him. The Nordic Nations use a calendar based on the legendary foundation of the earth, European nations use a calendar counting from the collapse of the mainland holdings of the Magnetic Empire (it happened over the course of several decades, but was standardized by Gallia several centuries ago). Rabiyya and the Southlands use a calendar based on the revelation of faith to their prophet. Rossovy, being literally in the middle of all of these calendars, uses an extremely confused and non-standard mixture.

But yes, by the European Calendar it is 1458.

Charles Li said:

OOC: I was wondering if I can make a flying hawk with metals? My Specialization would be "animal imitation". Or maybe a circle borne balloon. The circles can be magnets that ionize a particulare gas and then react with a particular fuel to keep that air borne.

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That would be fine. Though keep in mind that this is steampunk. The circles are steam-powered, ionized gases are a bit advanced for the time being.

@Fuschia- I've been meaning to ask for a while, what do you intend circles to look like? I have three ideas. One is a small cockpit with a da Vinci-esque airscrew spinning above it. One is a pod containing a cockpit and a steam engine, with helicopter-like blades spinning around it (kind of like the planet saturn). The final is a kind of weird flying gyroscope thing that is very difficult to describe, but it has multiple spinning rings nested within each other.

I understand if you want to leave it up to imagination, but I like visualizations.

Charles, right now the only thing prevent me from makeing a Final fantasy type airship is power to weight ratios. I am making progress in reducing the gap, such as the black Ice, but those types are still a ways down the line.

Lord Iggy, can I introduce a Barbarian spark from the north, as an apprentince to Cid? I need a Pilot for the Excelsior, and Cid is a little to old to do so.

Power. Unimaginable power. Power to shape and forge the physical Laws of reality to their whim, to bend, but not break them, and produce devices beyond the grasp of mortal men.
This is what a spark is, this magic that every soul upon the world posses. The gift to build their dreams, to strive toward a future of Progress.
Most People never touch it, continuing along their lives from birth to death, with little or no ambition.
Some are forced into contact it, in situations of life or death, via war or disaster. They stake their survival on an instinct beyond their thoughts, and devise a way to survive.
Some brush by it, driven by their emotions, and great works of art, music or writing, shifting the flow of man.
And then there are the ones we call sparks. Those who have embraced this Spark of magic, and have been driven mad by its power. Most never recover, and are killed for their madness, though in recent time asylums have been created to care for them. Others have recovered, in part or full. I suspect the majority of the witches and wizards we hear about in legends and our ancient history were sparks like us. Able to instinctually grasp the physics of the world around us, and bend them to their wills, by devices and potions.
But these “powers” were limited to only the power the spark could produce himself. The recent events, and the vast acceleration of the pace of development, can be traced to the invention of the Steam boiler. The power this simple device gives us sparks is amazing. Small enough to be portable, yet strong enough to provide power two to three magnitudes greater then muscle power alone. I have bent it to my will to power great airships that sail the sky. Others have built agricultural equipment, and mechanical men to wage war upon others. I even believe Dr. Hayden managed to develop a method to travel to the stars, though I doubt he ever realized what exactly he had created.
It will be decades before the situation stabilizes, for this burst, this spark revolution, is only beginning. By the time it ends, decades down the line if ever, I doubt our world will be recognizable.
I will try my best to insure we do and remain a sane society in the process.

OOC: Ahhrrghh!!! @#$@ #$@$ thing wont let me indent new paragraphs, completely ignoring the spaces before each sentence. It just looks wrong without them. anyone know how to fix this?

Well, it's an excellent story. I must say though, you're getting a bit muderous.

TerrisH said:

Charles, right now the only thing prevent me from makeing a Final fantasy type airship is power to weight ratios. I am making progress in reducing the gap, such as the black Ice, but those types are still a ways down the line.

Lord Iggy, can I introduce a Barbarian spark from the north, as an apprentince to Cid? I need a Pilot for the Excelsior, and Cid is a little to old to do so.

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Sure. The northerners are divided into two tribes. One are sort of like the Inuit, another group is much like the Sami, or Lapplanders.

Oh dear! So long without a story. I beg the pardon and forgiveness of the council. >.>

One will be up shortly.

Three long years, nothing but wealth and happiness. In the young kings court things were but things, cheap things to him, ask and you shall receive. Leopold had been a tutor for his majesty for quite sometime, teaching the arts of mechanics. In return he has gifted him freedom among the nobles, a large manor, workshop and giant library to research. Nothing more he could ask. But the doctor was not happy. His work had deteriorated and his skills, his spark, had become rusty. Nothing new had been invented in over a year, he felt terrible, using the kings money and doing nothing for it.

“Leopold.” said a young voice, the kings voice. He looked up and remembered he was at a feast, a large table field with all the luxuries, roasts, turkeys, steaks, pork. It was all there. “You seem a bit distracted from your meal. Is it not satisfactory?”

“No your majesty, it is fine.” he took a swig from his cup, the best wine he had ever tasted.

Later that night, after the meal, in his library, Leopold sat and thought. About all the things he is missing, wasting his still able years in a court getting drunk and sleeping with more exotic women than an opera star. As he pondered a familiar voice rang out.

“Sir, are you ready to leave yet?” asked Boilerplate.

“Have you packed my things?” he responded.

“ Yes, sir, I have. ROBERT is packed and ready to go.”

Leopold stood up and took one last look around at his library, oh the hours of fun he had had reading books in every language, learning lost techniques and stories of war and love. He began walking out, but turned around in a hurry to grab his note books, he would need them he murmured. As he walked out of the front entrance to his manor he realized it was a full moon, ROBERT puffed in the background with the sound of gears and pistons. He had upgraded the vehicle with more room, armor and a better engine. The tank, as he called it, was large enough now that the back seat was a tiny office, with a bookshelf and leather chair, with a small lamp to add to it.

“Did you leave the note, BP?” Leopold asked while stepping into the onboard office.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then we make leave for Medland, I have unfinished business to attend to.”

The fighting has taken a heavy toll on everyone in the Nihojonese Standard Army, most notably the SS-Troopers. Their confidence has been replaced by caution, yet their bravery does not falter for they have been given a slight modification as to improve their survivability.

The Steam Soldiers have been reorganized into what looked a bit like the Magnatean legionaries of antiquity, or as much as I can surmise from Western history books' drawings of them. Fighting shoulder to shoulder, the twenty SS-Troopers of SS-2 (as one half of what was left of the SS-Company was called) formed a wall of steel shields, made deadly by the drill-spears poking out.

This revision proved crucial in one battle in southern Heilongjiang. The troop had arrived to relieve a losing fortification from a horde of Singuonese soldiers who were reportedly on their way to retake it. When they had arrived, another wave Singuonese troopers arrived, this time from the northeast through a daring breakthrough manuever by one of the Singuonese generals.

Should the SS-Troopers have been caught in the former methods, each acting separately as a sort of "focus of casualties" while the rest of the army advanced, they would have been slaughtered through the sheer weight of the assault.

However, through discipline and unity, they simply split themselves into two groups of ten then met the advancing force, keeping close together in their two teams. They proceeded to literally shaving off lines of Singuonese soldiers, unflankable in the melee (as they did leap into the lines of Singuonese using their steam-power-enhanced legs, forcing the musketeers to resort to their bayonets) due to their exhaust mechanisms. The Singuonese cannon, though not posing threats unless their operators decided to sacrifice Singuonese troops (which would have broken morale, something the Singuonese needed), were taken out using volleys of their arm-mounted steam cannon.

They would jump in unison from formation to formation, cleanly shaving off Singuonese troops. When the enemy had realized this, they turned their attention to overwhelming the two groups of ten. The shields kept off much of the shot from harming the SS-Troopers to any critical degree, and they formed a big, shielded circle of twenty troopers to stave off the incoming soldiers.

When a single cannon ball nearly decapitated one of the SS-Troopers, however, they realized that the formation was not too safe and they were once again in a critical situation. The artillerymen had taken the time to aim properly as not to risk the lines of Singuonese troopers. In response, the SS-Troopers split into two groups of ten again, bee-lining towards the cannon formations as not to keep their backs exposed for too long (as the rear ends' exposure to fire was the main cause of battlefield casualties for the SS-Troopers).

Upon taking out the cannon, they held once again in tight formations, mvoing to the edges of the battlefield so that they may shave off Singuonese troopers without danger to their backsides. They were able to keep at this offensive for ten minutes more before being relieved by a battalion of Standard Army soldiers, as well as the reformed troopers from the fortification, swarmed into the area to push back the Singuonese (counter-) assault.

Although the SS-Troopers could have done better by luring the enemies into the fort walls while concentrating on the artillery since the beginning of the battle, a combination of luck and quick (though not exactly good) thinking won the day. Their captains will learn strategy and better decision-making after more fights like this.

I, as their SS-Captain, cannot feel more proud of their exploits for Nihojon. If it will not win us more offensives, then it will buy us time as we prepare for yet another push to take Singuonese farmland.
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In other news, the other story is finally done (sans minor bugfixes)! Changed the title to better fit the story.

The road was long and bumpy. Not build for machines. The thoughts poured out of his mind as the steam pistons churned. Note book after notebook filled with new ideas. When he had filled up the third book he stopped and opened the door and stepped into the drivers compartment, sitting next to Boilerplate who was readily watching gauges and keeping the machine vehicle on the road. Looking out and around he figured it must be around noon, the breeze was warm and the landscape was green and hilly. Behind them were low mountains and in front of them was the coastline.

“How much further BP?” he asked.

“16.4 miles to the border.”

“Lets just hope the King isn’t angry, or else we may be in for a treat.”

As they went down the winding road and through a small village, the locals looked on in fear and mothers hid their children. Leaving behind a pair of tracks on the road amazed the men of the village as they went to feel the ground when the machine had left. Probably wondering if it would be hot. Up ahead they saw the border, beyond it was a field with windmills and a small river.

“I see no guards, sir.” Boilerplate said.

“Today is our lucky day, BP, we are finally home.”

He stepped down into his office and came back out just as they crossed the border, waving a Bellovian flag. He began shouting as they passed a small Bellovian farm house.

“Our time has come, brothers, Bellovan will be free at last!”

I think the Inuit wouldn't be adequate. I know this sounds dumb, but they're too... icy. They'd probably not be able to adjust to the heat. Melt

@sp1023- The Inuit certainly are capable of living in the extreme north, just as much if not more than the Sami.

@Lord Iggy: Your NES updates are different. Most encompass years. Yours encompass months, so to speak.

Yes, that's so people can act at fairly realistic paces. This NES would be kind of stupid if your characters died of old age on a regular basis.

Yes, I see your point. However, I don't understand the wars. What is there to gain? Land isn't really needed, and, well, is it just for fun? (Well, all NEses are.)