SteamNES

Daftpanzer said:

I vote for Legopunk.

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HA! I'll join that right now. Just let me run home to start building some ideas.

I should say, I took that pic from a site I googled while looking for a cool picture for my story (which I haven't found yet )

http://legosteampunk.blogspot.com/2007_05_01_archive.html

“Who are you?”

“You may call me Jennings.”

“And what is your purpose?”

“I was sent here by my master.’

“And his message?”

“A fellow believer wishes to talk to you.”

Leonardo looked around. He had laid waste to these heathens. Rabbiya might be a tough nut to crack. He had nothing to gain staying here.

“Very well, take me to your master”

http://www.crabfu.com/steamtoys/
Specificly, http://www.crabfu.com/steamtoys/diy_steampunk/ has some interesting stuff. And the second link of those two goes into some detail about various parts needed on a steam engine (helpful to make descriptions more realistic...so useful even if you aren't drawing).

http://steampunkworkshop.com/ not really anything specific to anything I've seen on the thread, but I really like the keyboard and monitor mod shown.

Symphony D. said:

Decloak: Just to throw in my two cents at this late stage, technically Steampunk covers everything up to about 1918 to 1936 levels of technology, at which point you transition over to Dieselpunk, so the works of Tesla and Edison are well within their place in the genre.

Saying that because it's Steampunk, that most everything must operate on steam (not that you, Iggy, have done this, but some others have) is fairly ridiculous. Within the Girl Genius series itself numerous examples of combustion engines exist, as do electric weapons, and what can only be either plasma or particle weapons (Agatha's guns). Kaja Foglio herself said of the term:


So, really, das' interpretation, at least if this is in the vein of the GG series with regards to Sparks, is quite accurate. Of course, this is Iggy's game, so what he says goes, and if he says it's mostly all steam driven, so it is--but Steampunk itself as a title implies nothing about the degree to which steam actually does dominate technology, either in general or specifically as regards Sparks.

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Thanks for clarifying things Sym.

Basically, we're at a point in history where steam has come to prominence. Clockwork is still a possibility, but it's very common. Electromagnets are theorized and a few have been devised, but they aren't practically applied very often.

My plan is to have a slow, gradual shift up in technology. People who try to speed it up excessively will find that their ideas are 'farfetched', and 'before their time', that is to say, non or poorly-functional.

Daftpanzer said:

@Lord_Iggy, I take it Rossovy doesn't have any railways at present?

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They're still an Anglican exclusive, though news is spreading quickly. Great pic, BTW.

tuxedohamm said:

http://www.crabfu.com/steamtoys/
Specificly, http://www.crabfu.com/steamtoys/diy_steampunk/ has some interesting stuff. And the second link of those two goes into some detail about various parts needed on a steam engine (helpful to make descriptions more realistic...so useful even if you aren't drawing).

http://steampunkworkshop.com/ not really anything specific to anything I've seen on the thread, but I really like the keyboard and monitor mod shown.

Click to expand...

Great links.

Lord_Iggy said:

They're still an Anglican exclusive, though news is spreading quickly. Great pic, BTW.

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So my moves are valid? Bringing in an Anglican/Anglian lordling/industrialist to build stuffs in Nihojon? Moving several characters at once (against the D&D thing that the DM moves the NPCs)?

It's quite acceptable flyingchicken!

*bathump*

It had all been so simple. Less then a year ago, he had begun the creation of his airships. Simple, practical things, taking old sloops from the harbor and lifting them to the sky. Small, and faster then the local river barges, along with being able to go anywhere in medland, they still were still selling as fast as the two shipyards could convert the sloops.

*Bathump*

Twenty three were in service already, and four more in conversion. He still owned three, using them to ferry goods between the cloth factories and the shipyards. Four had been sold to the medland military, and two more to some private individuals outside medland. The rest were in service by other merchants in medland.

*BaThump-thu*

Some said he threw away a fortune their, selling his airship. He could have had a monopoly on the airship travel. But they were wrong, so very wrong. Yes, the long term profits would have been greater, but he needed funding, and funding quick. Otherwise, how could have he produce the Highwind so fast?

*BaThump-thump*

And the Highwind was the first True airship. Already, it was well on the way to make a profit, traveling between vest Lund and Medland in an relative eyblink, less then 1/3rd the time it normally took. Its sister ship, the “starwind” was nearing completion, and the keel of the third was being laid down, though he had not chosen its name.

*BaThump-Thump*

But their would be no more high winds style airships after the three. Already, a new third design was being prepared. Well, a third and fourth design, to tell the truth. The smaller, pure military version of the high wind, “Griffon”, designed to engage both ground targets, and other airships. And the High attitude exploration airship, “stargazer”. tThe Star gazer would be much, much smaller then the other airships, only a three man craft. Designed to map the air currents, explore the world, and test the smaller, simplified version of the Steam Energy Matrix.

*BAThump-Thump*

The Steam Energy Matrix. An accident, and a burst of inspiration have shown its potential to him, and he had embraced it. Power overwhelming, it called to him, to make it a form worth of it. Already the basic frame was complete, but the means to make it move was lacking. It would take years to finish its mechanical muscles, its eyes, and its ears. Months to prefect it’s controls for him to use. Only then could he prepare its mighty armor, protecting its delicate insides from harm forever. But he was in no hurry. He would complete his masterpiece.

*BATHUMP-THUMP*

The crowd erupted, screaming in an exaggerated manner as their favorite lunged forwards. The man, Hamzah, lunged forwards, swinging his wide metallic scimitar at the head of his competitor. Hamzah, a hulking man with a physique that seemed to be carved from iron stone, screamed with a deep blood-rage as his opponent dropped out of the way. The younger competitor, barely half the size of Hamzah and twice as fast, was draped out in a typical swift costume- a white cape, a white mask, and ironically a pair of black pants. The young man, Haytham, quickly rolled onto his side as Hamzah repeatedly swung his iron scimitar at his head. Placing a well aimed kick back at Hamzah’s middle; Haytham quickly vaulted back to his feet and went on the offensive with a flurry of rapid kicks.

The crowd booed as Haytham continued to have the upper hand, repeatedly driving the massive Hamzah back into his corner of the ring. The crowd erupted in anger as Haytham managed to secure a strong elbow blow into Hamzah’s face. As blood begun to rush out of his face, Hamzah dropped the iron scimitar he was clutching and fell forward onto his knees. The crowd continued to scream out death threats to the young competitor, even as Haytham picked up the dropped scimitar with a numb hand. The boy stared at the weapon in his hand for a minute, paused to stare out at the crowd calling for his death, and turned back to the toppled fighter. A split second later he had thrown out his arm, throwing the sharpened end of the blade against Hamzah’s heaving throat. The splatter erupted across the young man’s face, and as the giant finally collapsed the crowd erupted once more. This time, however, they were finally chanting his name- the name of the new champion.

The manager of the arena, a pompous fat merchant by the name of Marid, waddled up into the middle of the arena with a thick smile plastered onto his face. He shouted the young man’s name to the crowd, and grinned greedily as his agents began to move among the crowd, collecting the losing purses. Those who had bettered upon Hazmah had lost their bets, and now the insatiable merchant was eager to take his winnings. With the highly-anticipated fight finally over, the merchant ordered the removal of the dead body and the preparation of the ring for the next fight.

The arena was a large covered tent, with a set of thin wooden walls erected along the sides in an attempt to contain the noise from the fights. The crowd was arranged on four thick benches, each one residing a level higher than the last, and were crowded together with no space in between customers. In the space that lay between the layers, numerous workers peddled the gaps selling everything from cups of water to taking bets on the numerous fights. As the last of blood was scrubbed up, the next pair of fighters- fighters of a much lower level- made their way towards the center ring.

Marid waddled out of their way, happily seizing several of the winnings bags from his workers and made his way into a separated area held from view from the public. This area, reserved for the fighters and his office, was more spacious than the cramped arena. Several more fighters were benched around the open area, watched as Marid nearly began to giggle as he dumped stack after stack of coins upon his desk. He thumbed the coins enthusiastically, sorting the metals into three separate piles. Only after a few minutes, to Marid’s extreme displeasure, an aide broke his euphoria and interrupted the somber silence of the room.

“Hamzah has been cremated as you have ordered, sir.” The aide whispered, cringing automatically as he expected the harsh reprisal of the fat merchant for breaking the calm. Marid, a man not known for his charitable actions and calm persona, surprisingly held his head glued to the coins and ignored the boy. The aide stood cringed for a few minutes, and then looked up in hesitation. Once again he spoke, this time holding himself uneasy: “Haytham is asking to speak to you, sir.” Marid paused for a second, before giving permission for the young fighter to see him.

The fighter quickly stalked up to the oaken table, dropping a heavy purse onto the table and sending Marid’s carefully stacked towers of coins sprawling across the table. He glowered at the merchant, chest heaving in and out, still caked with the dried remnants of blood on his chest. He had dropped the cape and mask, and was left only with the loose white pants. “I was promised double.” He growled, chest heaving as he bore a hole into the man.

“And I was promised a living ex-champion.” The merchant replied in-kind, taking note of the fact that Haytham was still clutching the bloodied scimitar. “Now I can understand that you may have overlooked that in the heat of the moment- inexperienced fighters tend to make those mistakes.” He said, taking the bag into his hand and feeling the heft once more. “But I’ll tell you what- just because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll triple your winnings,” He said with a thick grin. “if you can win a second fight.”

“Why should I fight again for what I already earned?” Haytham exclaimed, jarringly holding the scimitar in the air, angrily holding it in his hand in a menacing way.

“Calm, calm!” the merchant exclaimed, a bead of sweat beginning to appear upon his brow. “Don’t worry- I’ll ensure that you will win this second fight.” He paused, suddenly getting a vicious grin on his face. “I’ll place you in a virgin fight. That way you can be his first- and last.” He said with a low laugh. “I have the perfect candidate for your fight.” Haytham held his breath for a minute, glaring at Marid straight in the eyes.

“I want the winnings timed four.” He said finally, loosening his grip on the blade. Marid made a loud gagging noise, and opened his fat mouth as if ready to tell the young man off. However, catching himself before he spoke, and eying the scimitar the whole time, he managed to squeak out two words:

“Very well.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The second fight had begun. Haytham stood diagonally from his new challenger; he situated in the defender’s corner- a high honor in the business- and the young boy situated in the challenger’s corner. The arena was a small, elevated square roped off with a single rope that ran around four flat posts. Haytham had been given sometime to rest and recover, and had managed to finally clean all of the blood off himself. His competitor, who true to Marid’s word, was nothing more than a mere boy dressed in a man’s outfit. The boy was dressed completely in black robes, his entire boy hidden from view except for a pair of emerald eyes that peeked out from behind the scrawl worn on his face. Marid stood in the middle of the ring, excitedly watching as his men took bets on the outcome of the fight (most being laid upon the timing of the fight, not exactly the victor). After some ten minutes of bet-taking, Marid finally called the bets off and waddled out of the arena, allowing the business to begin.

Haytham slowly walked into the center of the ring, watching closely at his opponent’s movements that simply mirrored his own for the moment. The two men met in the middle, each one giving their opponent the official death rites. The pair moved back to their original spots, staring each other down from their respective spots. And, with the ringing of a large gong that stood outside the ring, the fight begun. The crowd erupted, screaming the champion’s name as those who made early bets expected their winnings.

Haytham quickly crossed the short distance across the ring, dancing around the young boy as he attempted to put a front. The young man grinned as he saw the boy stumble, and quickly gave the boy a hard shove in the back and sent him stumbling to the ground. The crowd roared in laughter, everyone of the crowd eager to see the beat down that was beginning to occur. Haytham advanced on the fallen boy, quickly mounting the boy’s chest and attempted to smash his fist into the boy’s face. With a surprising sense of speed, the boy managed to catch Haytham off balance, and throw him from his perch.

The fight continued, the young man hurriedly scampering to his feet as Haytham continued to advance upon the boy. Haytham succeeded in managed to hit a strong forward thrust into the boy’s face, sending him reeling against the brown rope. Blow after blow, Haytham managed to keep the boy hounded against the rope, attempting to inflict blows upon his competitor’s head- only to be stopped at the last moment by the boy blocking. After a few minutes of the fighting, and a few blows later, Haytham finally let the boy some space and retreated back to his corner of the ring. Smiling, Haytham quickly grabbed up the iron scimitar off the ground, and made to advance upon the hapless fighter.

He swung widely at the boy’s throat, not really aiming for a hit but rather attempting to scare the boy. The tactic worked and the child leapt backwards, nearly getting tangled up in the rope and falling out of the ring. The boy stood panting, trying to catch his breath as he leaned against the slackened rope. Haytham laughed at the foolish young man, almost possessing a feeling of pity for him. That feeling, however, disappeared after a moment and Haytham lunged forward once more, serrated edge of the blade flashing towards the boy’s exposed throat.

What happened next caught the crowd by surprise, and as a single entity they let out a sole breath that escaped into the covered tent. As Haytham lunged forwards, the boy finally seemed to spring into action as he quickly dropped onto his side, grabbing hold of the rope and lowering it as he went down. Haytham, suddenly realizing that his opponent was no longer in his path, tried to stop but his inertia carried him forwards. Caught off balance, and with no room to slow his movement, Haytham tumbled over the rope and went sprawling face forwards onto the floor below the ring. The fight, as ruled determined, was over.

At once the crowd broke out in an uproar, every man in the room suddenly jumping to his feet to protest the unusual method of victory. Marid, and a dozen of the workers quickly ran back into the middle of the ring, desperately trying to bring the situation back under control. After a few minutes of shouting, Marid realized that the situation was out of control, and he quickly ushered the two fighters back into his office. With a furious expression plastered on his face, Haytham quickly followed the young boy who had won by default.

“That was not as plan!” Marid exploded, furiously shoving the young boy into the flimsy wall once they entered the sectioned area. “I told you to take the fall!” he ranted, furiously storming around the small space. “You were to enter, get battered, take a few cuts, wait for the right time and then stay down! You’d earn your fee, Haytham would notch another victory, and the damn crowd would pay for the whole thing. What gave you the right to interfere in my match?” He yelled, almost loud enough to be heard among the crowd.

“I should have finished you in the ring!” Haytham joined in, shoving the boy once more into the wooden wall. He turned to Marid with nostrils flared. “I knew you couldn’t do anything right! First you make the match with Hazmah real, and then you go and score me a match against a fool! You said he would take the damn fall!”

“He told me he would take the damn fall!” Marid exclaimed, turning back to the young victor. “To beat it all, you pulled a roped victory! Were you trying to make him look like a fool?!” He paused, furious lines drawn around his mouth suddenly tightening in a startled expression. “……Haytham is still defender because of the ringed victory. Victors don’t become defenders unless they win by death or knockout- you knew that didn’t you?” He suddenly turned back to Haytham. “That works doesn’t it? I’ll give you the purse, you can continue to fight, and I’ll bury this match.” He stopped, and waited a minute before Haytham shakily nodded his head. “As for you- take your fee and get lost. I will have nothing more to do with you.” He snarled, shoving a small bag into the boy’s chest.

The old man gave a stifled cry for a fleeting second, standing rigid as a rock with his palm extended. In the split second that he had extended his hand towards the boy’s chest, the latter had responded in the same matter- through he had shoved a silver dagger into the merchant’s chest. The fat man gagged, and slid down into the floor. The boy moved with a single, sinewy motion as he crossed the room and lay open Haytham’s throat- sending the young man collapsing to the ground. Content with both of the men on the ground, the young boy took across the enclosure and gingerly snapped up both of the pursues. He made to leave the area, but paused beside the struggling body of the merchant. He dropped to his knees, and lowered his mouth to the merchant’s ear. “You, my friend, have sanctified death in your arena. Here, in this pit of blood, you gave rewards to those who not only caused misery but satisfied those who committed murder. By doing this you have violated the tenants of Allah and, as such, deserved punishment. Take this with heart through- you were not given the verdict of death like your thugs. You may take heed of my words and seek to redeem yourself in the eyes of Allah and those who wish to carry out his will. Forsake this business, Marid, and you may yet live out a long life.” He breathed the words, each one falling gently after first, until he had finished his rehearsed speech. The boy stood up, taking one last look around the room and finally made to exit. As he walked out the rear entrance, and into the deserted city street, he quietly uttered seven words: “Or I may visit you once more.”

/\/\/\/\

“Your will has been done, Teacher. Both Hazmah and Haytham- those bringers of death- perished upon this night. The former fell by the latter’s hand, and it fell upon me to enact the punishment of the unjust. Marid has also received his warning, and I shall pray that he take the warning to heart. I ask now that you take it upon yourself to pray to Allah that he forgive the transgressions I make while I carry out his just work.” Malik finished, kneeling at the feat of the white-clothed Imam.

The old man, with eyes beginning to show the taints of exhaust, paused before lowering his hand onto the boy’s shoulder. “Your cause has most surely been just tonight, child, and I will pray that Allah takes no heed of your transgressions. You have done most excellent.” He urged the boy to stand, and together they made their way into the top room of the mosque spire. Malik described, in detail, of the events of the night as they climbed the flights of stairs, retelling the falls of the fighters and the misery of the merchant. Finally as the reached the top, the Imam shook his head slowly and laid his hand upon the head of the boy. He motioned towards the closed door: “Go and rest my son. We shall talk in the morning of your future deeds.” He opened the door, and motioned for the boy to enter.

“Teacher, where will you send me next?” he asked, emerald eyes brimming with hope.

The Imam paused, ushering the boy inside, and made to shut the door before he answered. Finally, as he held the door a space ajar, he whispered his answer. “The heathens of the north shall feel the justice of our God.”

Dr. Akira Light was sifting through his endless stream of notes in his cramped house when he found something of slight interest. It was a typewritten document on the Steam Soldier division, the one commissioned by Lord Seichiro Yamamoto. It read:
He knew that, somewhere in the Experimental Forces Command, there was a far more detailed entry – he only hoped that it was correct, because Dr. Akira Light was a man of little patience for inaccuracies in reports. He vaguely recalled that the Experimental Forces Command was part of the Imperial Land Forces Command, part of the several military command branches he suggested to Seichiro when he found Nihojon's army organization to be "too messy."

He went on with rummaging through his notes, looking for the bits about "wetland-terrain wheels," the kind which he attached to his agricultural invention. He wanted a new non-military project to work on, so he was looking for inspiration in his old work. True, his mind was always swirling with new ideas, but he preferred to work on a single point of inspiration and work up from there because it helped him stay focused.

He then saw an old scrap of paper, obviously written as casually as possible, where he wrote about a "chalk-making device." He tried to recall that particular invention, and remembered that it was gathering dust in the workshop next to his house. He tried to remember why he never used it much, but decided to read the scrap of paper instead. It read:
Indeed, he had many small inventions which he never did follow through for purely practical purposes. It was strange, considering he loved those chain-reaction series of devices (OTL Goldberg machines) which he makes in whatever little spare time he has. Before he could continue his search for that one note or notebook – he cannot recall if it was one or the other – he was shocked to see an arrow hitting the wall precariously close to his head after a loud shattering of glass, immediately followed by a shwick then a shtunk.

Oh spirits of my ancestors, give me a gun, he immediately thought, the adrenaline clearing his mind of all distracting preoccupations. He was afraid, surely, but he had no time to cower if he wanted to live. He ducked into his desk and crawled into the safety of the floor. On the ground, he heard footsteps coming from the entrance to his home. Do I even have a gun around here?

He suddenly remembered that the only gun he ever owned was on his office desk in the Special Research Team headquarters a few miles from where he was. Besides, judging from the footsteps he was facing more than one assailant. He had to think fast.

The door suddenly burst open, and a pair of katana-armed men wearing dark kimonos started looking left and right, presumably looking for Dr. Akira Light. The room was filled to the brim with shelves upon shelves of books, wooden models of strange objects, and chairs scattered about, slowing down the pair of what looked like samurai.

"Doctor Akira Light, show yourself and this will go easy for you," shouted one of the two men. Akira saw the old prototype arm cannon he built long ago and a pressurized air canister, neatly placed in a bottom shelf near the desk. There was also a wrench, screwdrivers, a handsaw and a hammer in an open-top tool-box. There was also a prototype bomb which never was tested. Dr. Light knew what to do by now, but he had to execute it as fluidly as possible. It required precise timing and a good deal of luck.

Suddenly, the middle-aged inventor came bursting out from the bottom of his desk. He ran screaming his lungs off, creating a moment of confusion between the samurai. He ran, barely dodging a slash from one of the assailants in a stroke of luck. Soon, he was flying out of the window and rolled onto the ground outside. When he saw the two men framed at his door, he immediately threw a wrench at them and scrambled away, hearing a dull thud and a scream of pain as he did.

As he was running, he looked back and saw one of the two sword-armed men going after him. He took out a hammer from his coat and threw it back, full-force, hoping it would hit the man. To his luck, it did, and he took to a corner and hid. Now what?

Immediately, he went for the constabulary and hoped for the best.*

* He survived. This marks the beginning of subversive activities by the non-bureacratic samurai. All over Nihojon, prominent "modernization" figures are being assailed.

Kate was making good time on her flight. She had only stopped a few times, in the smallest villages she spotted along the way. There she was able to get food to travel on. Her small supply had run out quickly. During the time she had mastered the controls of her little airship.

It was getting dark and she wanted to put down near the village ahead. As she approached a small clearing by a farm, she heard the shrill sound of a young woman in protest. A quick look around presented two figures just ahead on the ground. A man appeared to be holding down the girl. It didn’t take long for Kate to see what was going on, and well out of earshot from any of the village’s houses.

Kate turned the ship towards the couple and stood to a crouch in her seat. Even with the uncommon sound of the steam engine powering the airship, neither of the two on the ground noticed Kate approaching. Another shrill scream from the girl confirmed to Kate that this was certainly a bad situation.

Just as the bow of the ship began passing above the couple, Kate yanked hard on a lever. Dropping from the side of the ship came a large metal anchor. Its specially designed end plowed into the soft earth, pulling tight the thick rope that held it. At the same moment Kate leapt from her seat towards the guy. Kate was of small frame, but with the added momentum of the airship behind her, she connected with the man’s side as he spun to the sound of the anchor dropping.

The impact hurt…a lot.

…

…

Kate was dazed as the girl shook her awake. The girl had light brown hair, long and straight. She was maybe an inch or two taller than Kate, and of similar build. Her pale green eyes were not particularly notable, they didn’t show up well on her slightly tanned skin. Well, not really tanned so much as just more colour in it than Kate thought her own to be.

“Are you okay?” The girl asked, teary-eyed but in control of herself.

“My head is killing me and I can’t feel my arm…I think,” Kate replied. She wasn’t sure if that was her arm that had the splitting pain coming from it or not. Her mind couldn’t quite decide what pain signal came from where.

“Th-thank ..you…” The girl looked at Kate with concern.

“Help me up,” Kate asked.

The girl gripped one of Kate’s arms. The one that Kate hadn’t nodded toward when claiming an arm hurt. Once standing Kate and the girl looked over at the guy.

“Are you okay?”

“I hope…my brother is going to kill me.” The girl looked at Kate, “Who are you exactly?”

“My name is Kate Aylor. I was planning on landing here to find some food.”

“You’re the girl who broke that train!”

Kate looked at the girl a little more cautiously. Did she land in a village loyal to the new government? This could turn into a bad situation very quickly. She was hurt, and while she could still fly her ship, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to get away from the girl holding her up.

“My name is Ashleigh. I can’t believe I met you.”

“Can I help you get home to your parents?”

“No…I live with…my brother.”

“Oh…I’m sorry…can I get you to him?”

“I would rather go where ever you are heading. My brother is mean to me. His wife treats me like I’m nothing. John will tell them I came on to him. They will throw me out as a prostitute.”

“I don’t know if I can help…my ship only carries two, Marcus and myself.”

“Is he your husband?”

“I am not married. He is my … clockwork person.”

“What is that?”

“He is made from gears and a small steam engine.”

As they continued the man, John, started to wake. The two girls spun as they heard a groan come from him.

“Quick, to the ship,” Kate said quickly as she tried moving towards it.

“What about me?” Ashleigh asked, helping Kate get to the craft.

“Just get in. We’ll worry about details later.”

Both crawled into the airship and Kate started pulling on levers. Disengaging the claws on the anchor so it could be pulled back towards the ship. Ashleigh had to stand, holding onto Marcus’ head for support. Kate stood in her seat to give Ashleigh more room.

John on the ground started to stand. Looking around he didn’t see anyone…until he looked up. Mumbling something to himself he clumsily pulled a pistol out of his pocket. He pointed it towards the airship, trying to aim at both girls at once.

…

…

It happened too fast.

…

…

The gun fired in John’s hand. At the same moment Kate and Ashleigh did their best to crouch below the side of the ship. Marcus also reacted at the same moment, leaning over the port side of the ship. Using his body as a shield, Marcus was able to deflect the shot.

…

…

He unbalanced the ship. It was fatal…

…

…for Ashleigh.

As the craft started rocking back and forth, Kate and Marcus were able to adjust. Marcus repositioned in back in his seat, and Kate had aquired “air legs” from the long trip. Ashleigh was unable to adjust. Her body slipped over the edge and for a moment was one with the wind. Her scream was cut horribly short as her body impacted the ground, her neck snapped. Kate cried out to her, albeit too late.

John looked at the body lying on the ground and then started running to the village. Kate turned her ship towards him. She pointed the bow directly at the running man. She knew she would ram him deep into the earth.

He turned and fired his pistol again.

Only his poor aim, and her quick adjustment upwards avoided a rip in the balloon of her vessel. She couldn’t give chase, not this night. Nor could she stay in this village. John would surely not give the truth, and there would be a small mob of villagers at her throat before morning if she stayed.

Kate turned her airship southwest and upward. She would go hungry tonight. Her tears would be her only comfort. She knew her next task. She needed to get the materials, but her airship would forever be named…


Spirit of Ashleigh

That's sad...in the good way, of course.

Be wary, hwoever. Williams (or rather his puppet governemnt) can twist the truth...

Edited several times for 1) additions, 2) spellchecks, 3) adequate readability and 4) Japan != Nihojon.
_______________

The Start of a Western New Year - A Story
Because everything after this begs for ITL explanation

The cold, winter air blew against the Imperial Palace. Hundreds of Nihojonese Standard Army soldiers stood guard outside, all armed with muskets and bayonets. Two Steam Soldier troopers stood guard by the Palace entrance armed with deactivated chainsaw-swords, along with their forearm-mounted explosives-launchers.

Inside, Lord Seichiro Yamamoto, several daimyo and court samurai, officers of the Nihojonese Standard Army, and the remnants of the Special Research Team sit together discussing the current crisis of the state. There was an ominous air about them, and the expressions on their faces were grim.

"The Emperor died of a heart attack. We have lost lords Tenichiro Suzuki and Kiro Date. Officers of the Standard Army have been killed," the head Lord began. He looked at his companions, seeing sad nods and bows. "The samurai have gone low, gentlemen. They try to resist the changes we have begun for the good of all Nihojon: Even the misguided Tanaka knew that change was the only way our great country could compete and survive."

They continued to discuss the implications of the crisis. A new Emperor, Emperor Tenpo, was to succeed the late Emperor Gensho and unite the Nihojonese people against the threat of the samurai. The samurai were behind the attacks, apparently. The Standard Army needed to be expanded. Mass drilling had to be enacted. The strength and integrity of the state depended on it. And so on and so forth. It was a night of drastic decision-making.

"The traditionalists do not want change. The warrior caste does not want to lose their privileges. We are not alone. Other countries have faced this in the past, and we must face it now," said Seichiro. "Tomorrow, on New Year's Eve, the new Emperor will declare the Five Oaths we have decided upon. A new age of enlightenment is imminent for Nihojon, and we can push it forward for the good of all."

The leaders at the assembly found a new vigor after the five hours of talk. They were to bring Nihojon forward. Dr. Akira Light was happy that the Special Research Team was to be given more and more focus than ever before: the council found that technological change was essential to social change, and a social change towards the modern world was essential to economic strength. The Empire was to become strong, and the new Emperor and his genro were to stamp out the evils of the past.

"For the good of all," everyone replied in unison.
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The Five Oaths: (ripped from Wikipedia)

1. Deliberative assemblies shall be widely established and all matters decided by open discussion.
2. All classes, high and mighty, shall be united in vigorously carrying out the administration of affairs of state.
3. The common people, no less than the civil and military officials, shall all be allowed to pursue their own calling so that there may be no discontent.
4. Evil customs of the past shall be broken off and everything based upon the just laws of Nature.
5. Knowledge shall be sought throughout the world so as to strengthen the foundation of imperial rule.

Of the first oath, it is essential to know that it is between the lords and lordlings of the renewed Nihojon who are to form assemblies (much like what just had transpired). The modernized Empire will remain an oligarchy.

Of the second and third oath, it is implied that classes will remain to exist. The lords and the peasants will work together for the good of the state. Even with this corporatist view, however, a new state-supported mutual respect between the lords and their peasants will be established, and that even the lowest of all classes can go up the echelons of society (given that they have the initiative).

Of the fourth, the bindings of the old will be broken as to make Nihojon more receptive to change.

The fifth (OOC: which happened to be Dr. Akira Light's main contribution there) is very important. It signifies the willingness of Nihojon to adopt the ways of the successful countries and bring the great Empire forward, to strengthen its rule, to strengthen the state, and so on and so forth.
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The Imperial Knowledge Bureau (formerly the Special Research Team)
Under the supervision of Dr. Akira Light
Based in the Imperial Academy of Kyoto

• Design and Innovation Division (directly under Dr. Akira Light)
  • Weapons Design and Innovation Subdivision
  • Factory Design and Innovation Subdivision
  • Tools Design and Innovation Subdivision
  • Land Transportation Design and Innovation Subdivision
  • Aerial Transportation Design and Innovation Subdivision
  • Maritime Transportation Design and Innovation Subdivision
• International Knowledge Embassies Division
  • Anglian Knowledge Embassy
  • Vestlundic Knowledge Embassy
  • Svearlunder Knowledge Embassy
  • Medlander Knowledge Embassy
  • Suomarker Knowledge Embassy
  • Sitalan Knowledge Embassy
  • Alleman Knowledge Embassy
  • Rossovyan Knowledge Embassy
• Theoretical Knowledge Division (also directly under Dr. Akira Light)
  • Electricity Experiments and Tests Lab
  • Chemistry Experiments and Tests Lab
  • Physics Experiments and Tests Lab
  • Medical Experiments and Tests Lab
• Experimental Production Division
  • Experimental Weapons Production
  • Experimental Tools Production
  • Experimental Land Vehicles Production
  • Experimental Flying Machines Production
  • Experimental Watercraft Production
• World Knowledge Division
  • Astronomical Observation Team
  • Geological Observation Team
  • Hydrological Observation Team
  • Biological Observation Team
  • Meteorological Observation Team
• Mathematics Training and Research Division
• Economics Research and Analysis Division
• Organizational Analysis and Innovation Division (another one under Dr. Akira Light)

OOC: Placing Dr. Akira Light at the head was highly important because of two things: 1) he is an organizational genius and 2) he will boost morale and inspire his subordinates.

Everything is based on the various imported books Dr. Akira Light is so keen on reading. Now that he is the head of the Imperial Knowledge Bureau, he wishes to bring the Nihojonese people forward into the modern era.

The delicious system of innovation and invention in the design division:
Dr. Akira Light gets and idea or invents something, then his subordinates innovate/refine or assess for plausibility and practicality (in case Dr. Light misses it). If it is a "focus project" it tends to go back up to Dr. Akira Light for genius-level innovation then gets sent back down for more refining, or maybe they just get together and talk about it. Or: a subordinate gets a great idea, submits it to Dr. Light for approval (who will most likely approve anything he deems good, which is broad due to the fact that some of his inventions do tend to be impractical or somesuch), then it gets sent back down to the subordinates for assessment and/or innovation/refinement.
_______________

Bringing together the richest and wealthiest landowners and businessmen in all of Nihojon, the zaibatsu (most are collections of firms, some are very large companies) are formed. Hand-in-hand with the Imperial government, the zaibatsu are to bring the Nihojonese economy into the modern era.

The Big Zaibatsu

• Akira Group
  With Dr. Akira Light at its head, the Akira Group was formed with the aid of Seichiro Yamamoto prior to the start the latter's rule (though Akira Light's orignal company began long before that). It has close ties with the Imperial Academy of Kyoto, the Imperial Knowledge Bureau and the Imperial government, and primarily deals with cutting-edge technology and R&D for obvious reasons.​
• Iwasaki Group
  The Iwasaki Group of Companies is currently responsible for the manufacturing of heavy agricultural equipment, mining and mining equipment, steam motors, and is part of the multi-corporate effort towards the new rail system for Nihojon. They received a physical share of the now-dissolved Nihojon State Factories (which, in turn, came from the now-destroyed Lord Amadeus Finch), and are now planning to expand their industry into excess agricultural land.​
• Takatoshi Group
  A collection of firms dealing with food, clothes, real estate and banking, having close ties with the relatively new Imperial Bank of Nihojon. It currently provides land and financial support for the planned Imperial Railway.​
• Masatomo Group
  This Group concentrates its efforts on mining, smelting, and glass production. It has recently entered banking, warehousing, and construction. It received a helping hand by receiving a portion of the now-dissolved Nihojon State Factories. Like the other big zaibatsu, it is currently helping in the work on the Nihojon State Railway by providing metal- and metal-refining- related services. It, too, plans on expanding into the excess agricultural land the new agricultural revolution has brought about and plans to have a strong research and development division within months.​
• Zenjiro Group
  One of the largest banks of Nihojon. It has close ties with the relatively new Imperial Bank of Nihojon for obviouis reasons. It is currently financing several projects and firms throughout Nihojon, giving it a great deal of power as a whole. It also has a share of the real estate market, and plans to expand its research and development division.​
• Densaburo
  A relatively small zaibatsu. This firm received a relatively large portion of the defunct Nihojon State Factories because of its size. It is currently the leading firm in terms of arms production, along with the smaller gunsmiths in other towns. With the aid of the Imperial Knowledge Bureau in the Imperial Academy of Kyoto and its own research and development division, it plans to become one of the world's leading producers of cutting-edge arms. It has expanded into construction and mining recently, and is now helping the construction of Nihojon State Railway. It plans to expand by buying or producing more machinery for their factories, possibly buying excess agricultural land.​

OOC: It is blaringly obvious that Dr. Light meddled with the Nihojon policies on the zaibatsu with a heavy hand.
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Some memo-notes by Akira:
And then some journal entries:
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Final OOC: I might be describing things far beyond what is in the scope of my single character... All of the zaibatsu and research bureau divisions, for example, are technically NPC so I hope Lord_Iggy will understand if I expect them to act on their own accord.

I'm basing a lot of Akira off the stereotypical(?) Japanese busybody. He believes that technology is the future for Nihojon, and he is using his friendship with leader of the genro (from being the head of the daimyo and samurai), Lord Seichiro Yamamoto, and his own business firm.

Anyway, if anyone can make an accurate guess as to how I came up with the zaibatsu names, plus points to you!

Nice. Though you referred to 'Japan' in the story, some imaginary country which is clearly a mistyping of Nihojon.

Fix'd, then edited the bit under "Akira Group" for the sake of continuity.

e350, I need you to have a climactic story to revile your plot, so I can write a story

e350tb said:

That's sad...in the good way, of course.

Be wary, hwoever. Williams (or rather his puppet governemnt) can twist the truth...

Click to expand...

I would expect nothing less from the puppet government. Kate even expects as much from John, the guy who didn't get rammed into the earth.

A Report on the Progress of Jeremy Seiko

Jeremy had arrived in Khur less than a week after his successful departure from his original home. He had been greeted by Al-Shamdli, met the Shah-en-Shah once, and then moved quickly into his new residence, which also doubled as his production facility.

His brothers and his apprentice, Rodia, were there when he arrived, and had set the building to his exact specifications. Over the last two months he had hand-crafted a number of Dragonfly Mark II's and began to train pilots in their use; however, he always kept the newest model for his own personal use, as flying began to take up more and more of his time.

The number of workers spared to him for his productions were few and even these could not understand the alien methodologies of Jeremy's Dragonflys, so he instead focused on hand-crafting quality machines. Each part was made and assembled primarily by Jeremy, and every new machine was a slight improvement on the one before, although the general chassis, controls, and weaponry systems all remained the same.

However, Jeremy had gotten a new idea, for a bigger Dragonfly, one that might even rival a dirigible for size. It had all started when Rodia had shown him a little device he had bought as a souvenir in one of Khur's many markets...

--

"Look at this Jeremy! It is so simple, and yet it flies just as the Dragonfly does," said Rodia, spinning his purchase in one hand. It was a simple piece of wood with a number of wooden planks set on the top to act as propellers. Rodia took his other hand, twirled it, and released it to fly in place.

"It is very interesting indeed, Rodia," lied Jeremy. He did not see anything interesting about the small device, as it was even more handicapped as a flier than his original Dragonfly model. It could not go up or even move forward in a directed fashion.

"Imagine the possibilities, Jeremy. You could use propellers such as these to rise a ship in the air much greater in size than the current Dragonfly's," said Rodia. Jeremy still did not see the point, but he did pay for Rodia's souvenir.

"Something to remember Khur by in our later days, Rodia," said Jeremy.

--

Rodia showed great interest in the propellers and Jeremy, not needing much help in creating new Dragonflys, training pilots, and flying, allowed him to proceed in inventing something small of his own. He showed it to Jeremy one day.

"It is very interesting, Rodia. What does it do, exactly?" questioned Jeremy as he turned the small circle of metal over in his hands. He could see a vastly miniaturized steam engine coiled on the outside of the circle, and a system of propellers on the inside. He already knew what it would do, but he indulged Rodia by playing the fool.

"It flies. And much more efficiently than the wing design. The steam engine turns an axle, which in turn moves the propellers. It will move straight up or down, depending on which way you put it, and could even move things forwards or backwards at the right angles. Watch, I will show you," said Rodia, snatching the machine from Jeremy's hands.

He put it flat on the top of his work table and pressed a button. The steam engine began to heat properly and, after a few minutes of preparation, began to turn the axle. The axle, in turn, moved the propellers. As the propellers began to move, the circle began to rise, slowly at first, and then much faster. It went quickly to the top of the room and crashed into the ceiling.

"You see, Jeremy? Not only does it fly, it moves faster and is more energy-efficient than the wing design of the Dragonfly," said Rodia. Jeremy smiled a little, and then nodded his head.

"I can see that. I suppose we will need to work on yet another Dragonfly then. More time taken away from flying, but a man must eat. And the only way to eat safely here is to please the Shah-en-Shah."

--

From this point on, Jeremy and Rodia began to experiment with the new propeller system, crafting larger circles that could move up with great speed, and even switch between moving up and moving down. The addition of a platform on the top of the circle allowed for its rotation which, in turn, allowed for forward movement.

The new machine vastly out-performed the old Dragonfly's in both speed and maneuverability, and it could carry a greater load then before. Jeremy switched from the aluminum alloy, which had become harder and harder to obtain, to a light steel alloy for greater structural resilience.

At this point, the Circle Propulsion System has yet to be turned into an operable aircraft, but current design testing shows that it may not be long in the making...



OOC: Production of Dragonfly Mark II's proceeds, although Jeremy no longer makes them personally. His brothers and the few talented workers Al-Shamdli can spare make all of them for the moment, although Jeremy still holds them to roughly the same standards. No further improvements are made on that model for now, though.

Williams prepared for Leondaro to arrive by polishing Jenkins...for two hours. This was the most important part of his plan so far. One government? Easy. One spark? Difficult.

Now it was time to tell Sarah the terrible truth.

"When Leonardo gets here, I'm afraid you will be used as a bargaining price."

"What?"

Williams cringed. Emotionless whistle voices always made him quivver.

"Oh, you can't expect me not to use an intellengent robot who will do whatever I say...did I mention I took out one brain cell...the one that gave free will."

"That's what our friend Leonardo wants, and it was my plan since I met you," Williams continued.

He made his last preparation (the cross necklace, he always put in on when meeting religious leaders or going to church) and prepared to open the door...

They continued to discuss the implications of the crisis. A new Emperor, Emperor Tenpo, was to succeed the late Emperor Gensho and unite the Japanese people against the threat of the samurai. The samurai were behind the attacks, apparently.

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