SilliNES2: Pure Story and World Building NES Succeeding? PFFFFF, YEAH RIGHT!

Like I said before, for the hundredth time, the Stafian Diplomat says, there is no reason to unofficially monitor cargo coming in and out of Panckow. We didn't even give you permission!

The Diplomat stands onboard a Iron Marine ship, such a sea vessel designed for boarding and ramming over cannons, as he faces the captain of the Marine Legion, Sir Karl Rienaecker. While the armor of the latter imitates the former, said former want to get him and his men away from the docks and his country's shipping. And? Karl replied. Volks-König Eisen ordered us to patrol the cities of the nations in the League who didn't send a envoy, as they could house the terrorist under the whole of Europe's nose.

But we are searching for him at this very moment! The Diplomat responds, waving his arm to the harbor, which is at full capacity with all sort of ships of all shapes and sizes. We also want to find out who done such a terrible thing on the new year!

So why don't you allow us to stay here and monitor the shi-

Because you are invading private property!

...You do realize that, by allowing us to stay here, any possible raids from those damned Dragonborns can and will be beaten away? Karl reasoned. If we left, that would mean that there would be nothing to stop those flying beasts from stealing all your wifes and wealth!

Do not be telling such false claims, Panckow had never been raided by such mystical creatures!

So tell me why Panckow have a bad 'habit' of losing cargo sent to and from her then?

The Diplomat is shocked by such words, which were in no doubt honest, as Panckow is joked as the 'Black Hole of the Northern Sea'. Well, I, uh, it kinda-

Just then, a loud bell noise can be heard from the distance, pulling the two, along with others, forward the barrack near the docks. The ringing of the bell is a familiar tune to the Diplomat, but it was no means a peaceful one. The docks...

What about the docks?

I think they found him, and he boarded a ship... We must stop him, and put him to justice! The Diplomat faces Karl. Get your men to sail us to the first ship to leave, or he could get away!

Karl raises a eyebrow for a moment, as he feel like something was off. Reguardless, he agrees. Men, prepare the ship, double time! We may have found our target. Soon enough, the crew got the ship sailing in a direct course forwards the ship the Bomber was on, for it was now or never for getting him...

The steaming pile of junk that made up this clunker was a fast one, but it was clear to the bomber that the escape he had made from Panckow had not been entirely discreet (who would think that blowing holes in buildings would be discreet?), and now a small contingent of Stafian warships were steaming out of the harbor trailed closely by Eisen Europan and Albion Union vessels, flags whipping against the harsh backdrop of a grey sky. Thunder rumbled and the waves slashed violently across the surface of the waters, the crew shouting in the background as the pile of rusted bolts and metal made it's way out the side exit of the Panckow harbor, but the bomber had eyes only for those that steamed after him, undoubtedly knowing that they were coming for him, and for what he was and for what he had done.

It was painfully obvious to him that they had to have a warden aboard their ships, and if he were to close his eyes right now, instead of the blackness of his eyelids in front of him, he would see only a bright font of color as if he was peering into the chasms of the sun itself, burning and burning irrevocably into his retinas. One of them must have picked up his trail when the bomber had simply stopped caring if he went loud or not, covered his tracks, and caused collateral damage to the surroundings that made up everything around him. Undoubtedly they also had a runic assassin or three somewhere more than interested in bringing him to justice and more. The bomber gave a shudder to that thought, as he'd heard what some of the Stafian runic assassins liked to do to those that were deemed criminals and magic users at the same time. Such dark tales had made their way even to his ears.

As he thought about that, the images of being torn apart and dissected while he was still alive, a ripple in the water barely out of the corner of the eye was perceived and he was already sliding into a roll onto the deck of the ship as a column of water exploded upwards in an explosion. Droplets scattered across the air and splattered across the deck like the accusing stains of blood possessed by the slain, and already a second column was blossoming out of the waves to hurl water across the ship. No explosives or powder being used here; instead, it was simply the power of a runic user, more than likely an extremely powerful mage calling forth elemental scripts to try and wreck the steamer before it was too far out of the Panckow harbor for backup and became fair game to the other nations of the Stafian League.

The bomber quickly rose to his feet, stumbling and lurching across the deck as the ship listed heavily left and right as more columns of water exploded, some carrying flames of a host of colors, green, blue, red, orange, yellow, and even black at one point before it disappeared. The captain was manning the tiller of the ship, white as a ghost as he stared straight ahead at the waters in front of the ship, leaving the bomber unsure if he was truly seeing anything, but he shook the man bodily anyways, screaming at him to hurry the godforsaken bucket of bolts if he valued his life and his payment.

The captain nodded blandly, his eyes wide and unfocused, and the bomber knelt upon the deck, taking a series of scrolls out of his pocket and opening one up, the thousands of tiny black runes etched upon it's surface singing out to him silently.

The knife was in his hand.

He was ready.

Awesome work guys!

I am going to let Tycho to do the next part, as I do not want to do anything to screw it up.

Screw up? Bah! As long as it follows the rules of this world you should go right ahead! He can have you rework parts later.

You can also write about other going ons.

Jung watched the steamer slide forward through the waters, desperately trying to outrun and outpace the rest of the Stafian ships that had sailed forth to pursue it; it was a fast one, if a bit rusty on the waterline, but it wouldn't stop runic assassins from catching it. Uunco had unfortunately forestalled their plan, the bumbling fool, but Jung was positive that when he got his hands on this anarchic bomber, he'd spill his secrets so fast that Jung himself would be paid a king's ransom for the work he had done. All he ever wanted was at his fingertips, a realm of possibilities was open to him.

And all he had to do was take the bomber alive.

He grinned to himself, watching the steamer as the winds whipped the waves up around the form that it had, buffeting it in the cold waters of the Stafian sea. Slowly, Jung removed his gloves that he wore, cracking his knuckles. He had all the time in the world after all, and so he took his time as he removed the charcoal bit from his pocket, squatting onto the deck to draw the intricate webbed hexagon that would hold the seal that he intended to release. Within a minute, it was done, neat and organized for charcoal, and fine enough that many would have thought it was inkwork rather than a smudge upon the deck. It wasn't the best for this situation, but it would have to suffice after all, and on the waters of the harbor, Jung didn't trust himself with anything finer; the broad lines would make sure that if he had messed up somewhere, the runes would not blast back and wipe out everything within a half of a kilometer of the ship.

A slight irritable prickle touched briefly on Jung's skin, every hair on his body standing up as it did so; at first, he thought nothing of it, thinking it was just the winds of the harbor as always raising prickles on one's skin. But the prickles continued, starting to burn and itch viciously, and Jung finally realized what it was.

He sprang to his feet sharply, shouting madly at the captain; "Turn this godforsaken ship around if you want to save your miserable-"

Which was about as far as he got before the bolt of lightning from the heavens lanced down and smashed the steamer that he was on in half, the roar of the world sounding like the horns of oblivion as the thunderous clap smashed apart wood, iron, bone, flesh, man and machine and sending Jung himself spinning into the air like a projectile as dozens of more screaming, shouting forms were showered into the air with wreckage like so much debris. Some were on fire. Some were not screaming at all, and had a charred, melted look to them.

Jung himself though was madly groping for his knife, managing to wrench it out and slice his palm open, turning around and clapping the two hands together within mere seconds of smashing down onto the steamer. He was lucky. The spell activated just in time, cushioning his fall as if he'd fallen a mere two meters, rather than a hundred like he had estimated. Two others were not, and the sharp cracks of their spines on the deck were proof enough that they wouldn't be alive after this.

Straightening himself and dusting off, Jung looked up; he was in luck it seemed. This was the steamer that the bomber was on, and Jung couldn't be happier.

Because now he knew what the bomber was now... and that meant the man had an even less likelier chance of escape.

Segment completed, SmithRobloxian it's all yours.

Sorry for the delay, real life and writer's block.

Not really continuing the plot, but I figured I post something, something which could be used in the plot:


Once described as the most powerful ship in all the seven seas, nowadays it is considered to be just a Albion relic of the War of the Iberian Peninsula. Being able to house more than a hundred sailors and soldiers with more room to spare another hundred, it is the equivalent of a stronghold, hence the name. It's current armaments include a couple of dozen cannons for each of it's six floors, a few prototype revolving turret which replaced the old catapults and plenty of rifles for defense against boarding. In terms of movement, while previously it had to be towed into combat, the latest experiments with steam-powered led to the towboats becoming redundant. In spite of all this, it's appearance can be best described as a floating angry beer barrel, leading to jokes like this:

A Albion sailor walks into a seaside pub, and ask the bartender for a shot from his finest barrel.
The bartenders leaves the pub for that moment, before coming back in, rolling a cannon in with him.
The sailor panicked, and moves in haste to the bartender to questions where he got that cannon from.
The bartender replied: "I got it from that barrel outside ya brought!"

Regardless, The Munimentum Maris is often seen as a symbol of the Albion Union's naval power, and is one of the most popular tourist spots in the Union apart from the Statue of Thur and Black Dog's Henge.

Error

Cool

dasemay said:

Error

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Uh, what?

Sir Karl Rienaecker, the Captain of the Iron Marines, stared at the fleeing little steamer as rain pours from the heavens, his cold appearance on his face contrasting against the sailors working about the boarding ship. He raises a eyebrow as he sees the vessel slowing down to a halt, turning forwards to the captain of the ship, speaking only a dozen words, "It is time to board and take in this terrorist now, yes?" The ship captain nods to that request, and after a few moments the I.E.V. Hanburg. When the Marines finally board, they see the blood-soaked runic assassin in plain view, among the infamous bomber and enough bodies to full a small graveyard. The Marine captain goes to question about a few things to the assassin, from why so many of the sailors on the bomber's vessel were murdered instead of captured, to how he managed to get onto the vessel in the first place. Jung answered those questions through brevity before requesting to be returned to shore to sort out his pay, to which Karl refused on the counts that since the bomber done more damage to Europa than Stafia, that he needs to be taken to the court in the former. After a while with help by the Stafian Diplomat, it was to be agreed that the bomber would be taken back to port to sort out the payment of the capture, before departing him to Europa to suffer his charges. In the end, it seems like the worry from the terrorist attack on the turn of the century was finally sinking away, for now...

That's a nice five month bump.

Ophorian said:

That's a nice five month bump.

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Well, SilliNES 3 turned out to be a let-down, so I am just dusting this off and hopefully starting it back up again. Besides, I feel like this setting should be defined a bit more...