LittleBoots
The Bloody Banner
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,979
Hmmm, Iggy, can you make my Forces "Steambuggy," light cavalry-esque desert raiding buggy.
SteamNES
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
das
Regeneration In Process
Incidentally, note how absolutely everybody thus far has, for one reason or another, abandoned his original social status and place of residence. 
I guess that it's natural for Sparks, though.
I guess that it's natural for Sparks, though.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Incidentally, note how absolutely everybody thus far has, for one reason or another, abandoned his original social status and place of residence.
Ahem. My guy was forced and is very determined to not live where he is living. And by law of NESing everyone copied me because I was first.
LittleBoots
The Bloody Banner
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,979
Also, Bayyat is near the border of Turqui or whatever that steppe nation was.
das
Regeneration In Process
I should probably have added, "for whatever reason."
That bit of legislation has often been debated, I don't recall any final official consensus on this matter.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Julius Magnus/The Strategos
Nationality: Magnatae
Bio: Descended from the ancient Magnus family. Though their name is still as distinguished and revered as ever, recent hardships and mismanagements had caused the Magnus family to lose much of its wealth. In order to reverse the family fortunes, Julius has made it his goal to discover the means to create the mythical Philosophers Stone, which, according to myths, is able to turn base elements into gold and even give immortality.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 mechanical spider with various hidden equipment, almost like a self-propelled Swiss-army knife.
Nationality: Magnatae
Bio: Descended from the ancient Magnus family. Though their name is still as distinguished and revered as ever, recent hardships and mismanagements had caused the Magnus family to lose much of its wealth. In order to reverse the family fortunes, Julius has made it his goal to discover the means to create the mythical Philosophers Stone, which, according to myths, is able to turn base elements into gold and even give immortality.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 mechanical spider with various hidden equipment, almost like a self-propelled Swiss-army knife.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Giant Mechanical Cat Blue Prints: Top Secret
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
Ryan Amedeus (Crezth)
Colour: Silver
Nationality: Anglia
Bio: A native Eirian, Ryan Amedeus was transplanted to mainland Anglia at a young age. At a young age he showed an affinity for the sciences, and his education was given great attention. Finally he found company among the few and far in-between "gifteds" of the world, and, ever a believer in destiny, perceived his role in the world to advance along the tracks of technology and become one of the greats, in spite of his impoverished beginnings. With only a lower-class Anglish education to his name, Ryan was determined to make his name known worldwide.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 Ryanguard, a stationary crossbow-bolt firing turret.
I do hope I'm not too late. Either way, no harm no foul. I'll come in next update.
Colour: Silver
Nationality: Anglia
Bio: A native Eirian, Ryan Amedeus was transplanted to mainland Anglia at a young age. At a young age he showed an affinity for the sciences, and his education was given great attention. Finally he found company among the few and far in-between "gifteds" of the world, and, ever a believer in destiny, perceived his role in the world to advance along the tracks of technology and become one of the greats, in spite of his impoverished beginnings. With only a lower-class Anglish education to his name, Ryan was determined to make his name known worldwide.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 Ryanguard, a stationary crossbow-bolt firing turret.
I do hope I'm not too late. Either way, no harm no foul. I'll come in next update.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
I entered the store, a bell ringing softly, at the door’s movement. The smell of ancientness, dust and stale air, assaulted my nostrils as it clung to the store like a cheap perfume on a desperate prostitute. I walked past several statues, most of them in various stages of undress, without a second glance. A display with several pieces of jewelry momentarily memorized me. Stopping, I knelt down, so as to get a better look, my face almost touching the velvety cushion they rested on. Only a moment went by, however, before I got up in disgust. Forgeries, all of them, and some of them not particularly good forgeries. They were fit for nothing except to decorate the daughters of the nouveau rich who thought they could buy respect from the old guard by attempting to dress like the old guard. A person of breeding such as myself would never bother with newly minted trinkets such as these, unless they had lost their fortune and were trying to hide it. Of course, those who were that desperate usually couldn’t afford the quality mimicries anyway, so their efforts at hiding their lack of wealth were doomed from the start, showing that in addition to lacking money, they also lacked self-pride.
My wanderings finally took me to the back of the store, where a clerk sat scribbling at the counter, no doubt keeping his books as he valiantly attempted to make them say he had as much money as he thought he should have. At my approach, he looked up, putting on one of those patently false smiles that people put on when trying to sell you something.
“Good evening, honored customer, how may I serve you today?”
Idly I ran a finger over the counter, grimacing slightly as it came away grey from dust and grime. “I heard you have some old scrolls.” I asked, attempting to keep my voice as disinterested and neutral as possible.
“Oh yes, I have an excellent selection of ancient manuscripts, some reaching back to the very foundations of Magnatae, written in the archaic script of the ancients.”
Immediately I sensed that I would find nothing of value in this shop. The shopkeeper spoke as one who catered to those who felt by owning something ancient they could make up for the lack of an ancient bloodline. No doubt his stock was comprised of fakes, forgeries, and the newest nonsense spouted by whatever so-called philosopher happened to be the court’s favorite at the moment. Still, just as gold was found in useless rock, perhaps I would be able to find something worthwhile in the dross that no doubt made up his collection.
“Very well, let me see what you have.” Immediately the clerk started pulling out bundles. The first couple I immediately waved off, they had the unmistakable print of a forger I knew well who would then sell them as great discoveries of ancient wisdom. Several more were dismissed as their contents were familiar to me, mostly the boring ramblings of old men who pretended they were wiser than they were, and the pathetic attempts of poetry that stumbled out of the lips of a certain gentleman whose supporters claimed that he spoke with the tongue of an angel but whose speech more closely resembled an ass.
I had almost decided that I was wasting my time when I noticed a small tome, almost haphazardly bound, seemingly about to fall apart at the slightest touch. Gently, almost daintily, I opened the cover, curious as to what it contained. From the back hood of the cloak I was wearing crawled what appeared to be a rather large spider, which was about the size of my fist. Crawling up my neck, it perched on top of my head, a lens popping out of it, covering my left eye. Leaning down, I carefully examined the text, newly made gigantic thanks to the distortion caused by the lens.
Then you ye lovely Queen shall in your arms embrace.
Therefore concluding I pronounce that he
Who in my Book ye secret cannot see
Must never hope to compass his desire
By manifold Experiments of Fire.
My Pity and Compassion move my heart
For those that wander in ye precious Art.
Therefore to them I have revealed it all,
And proved ye Operations natural.
For this my Parable ye whole work contains
In Practice, Colours, Days and Regimens,
Ways, dispositions and continuance
Till Fate and Heaven conclude ye Mystic Dance.
To end then this my Book, I pray that God
Who in ye Heavens has fixed his grand abode
And who alone commanded me to write
Would thence impart an intellectual Light
To searching Tyros, who have hearts upright
And minds sincere, to them there shall remain
Nothing too hard, provided they abstain
From dreaming Fancys and ye subtletys
Of cheating Sophists, who by surprise
Like Montebanks impose on vulgar eyes.
The Way is natural but only one
Which I have in my speculation shown
I bid you all farewell, and be
Mindful of those that sink in poverty,
While Treasures unexhausted you possess
Whom ye peculiar Hand of Heaven does bless
With riches equally and happiness.
Pray then to God to send you down Ray
Out of ye Fountain of Eternal Day.[1]
I grew excited as I continued reading. I had, at home, a book called Aurifontina Chymica, a useful book in all respects. In it, it speaks highly of one Bernardus Trevisanus, who had successfully created the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and had left hints in one poetic essay called The Fountain. Though the author of the Aurifontina Chymica did not have the manuscript of The Fountain, he did have access to one four line fragment, which he had dutifully reproduced. That the fragment had been reproduced in this work, with, what seemed to be a much larger context intrigued me to no end. Carefully, yet quickly, scanning a few prior pages convinced me that this, perhaps, was a copy of the hitherto lost Fountain, or at least a sufficient approximation to that work that it would still be useful.
Trying to prevent the shopkeeper from seeing my excitement at the find, I dutifully examined several other manuscripts, even half-heartedly attempting to bargain for a few before coming back to The Fountain. “And what outrageous price do you want for this?”
To my surprise, the clerk named a price, which while exorbitant for most, was actually slightly lower than I had expected. Which, of course, clued me in immediately that the shopkeeper had no idea of the real value of the book. As such, I knew that I could easily scam him. “About the only thing this is useful for is to start a fire.” I remarked, beginning to turn away. Seeing his sales slipping away, the shopkeeper immediately buckled, immediately halving the price. After a few minutes of haggling, I left, gleefully clutching the book, the poor ignorant shopkeeper happy with the minute price he had finally pried out of me. If I was right, this book would prove valuable clues in my quest for reproducing the elusive Philosopher’s Stone.
[1]I make no claims of the poem (which is not quoted in its entirety) being originally mine. I have left enough obvious hints about its origin that I don't feel guilty about not saying any more than that.
My wanderings finally took me to the back of the store, where a clerk sat scribbling at the counter, no doubt keeping his books as he valiantly attempted to make them say he had as much money as he thought he should have. At my approach, he looked up, putting on one of those patently false smiles that people put on when trying to sell you something.
“Good evening, honored customer, how may I serve you today?”
Idly I ran a finger over the counter, grimacing slightly as it came away grey from dust and grime. “I heard you have some old scrolls.” I asked, attempting to keep my voice as disinterested and neutral as possible.
“Oh yes, I have an excellent selection of ancient manuscripts, some reaching back to the very foundations of Magnatae, written in the archaic script of the ancients.”
Immediately I sensed that I would find nothing of value in this shop. The shopkeeper spoke as one who catered to those who felt by owning something ancient they could make up for the lack of an ancient bloodline. No doubt his stock was comprised of fakes, forgeries, and the newest nonsense spouted by whatever so-called philosopher happened to be the court’s favorite at the moment. Still, just as gold was found in useless rock, perhaps I would be able to find something worthwhile in the dross that no doubt made up his collection.
“Very well, let me see what you have.” Immediately the clerk started pulling out bundles. The first couple I immediately waved off, they had the unmistakable print of a forger I knew well who would then sell them as great discoveries of ancient wisdom. Several more were dismissed as their contents were familiar to me, mostly the boring ramblings of old men who pretended they were wiser than they were, and the pathetic attempts of poetry that stumbled out of the lips of a certain gentleman whose supporters claimed that he spoke with the tongue of an angel but whose speech more closely resembled an ass.
I had almost decided that I was wasting my time when I noticed a small tome, almost haphazardly bound, seemingly about to fall apart at the slightest touch. Gently, almost daintily, I opened the cover, curious as to what it contained. From the back hood of the cloak I was wearing crawled what appeared to be a rather large spider, which was about the size of my fist. Crawling up my neck, it perched on top of my head, a lens popping out of it, covering my left eye. Leaning down, I carefully examined the text, newly made gigantic thanks to the distortion caused by the lens.
Then you ye lovely Queen shall in your arms embrace.
Therefore concluding I pronounce that he
Who in my Book ye secret cannot see
Must never hope to compass his desire
By manifold Experiments of Fire.
My Pity and Compassion move my heart
For those that wander in ye precious Art.
Therefore to them I have revealed it all,
And proved ye Operations natural.
For this my Parable ye whole work contains
In Practice, Colours, Days and Regimens,
Ways, dispositions and continuance
Till Fate and Heaven conclude ye Mystic Dance.
To end then this my Book, I pray that God
Who in ye Heavens has fixed his grand abode
And who alone commanded me to write
Would thence impart an intellectual Light
To searching Tyros, who have hearts upright
And minds sincere, to them there shall remain
Nothing too hard, provided they abstain
From dreaming Fancys and ye subtletys
Of cheating Sophists, who by surprise
Like Montebanks impose on vulgar eyes.
The Way is natural but only one
Which I have in my speculation shown
I bid you all farewell, and be
Mindful of those that sink in poverty,
While Treasures unexhausted you possess
Whom ye peculiar Hand of Heaven does bless
With riches equally and happiness.
Pray then to God to send you down Ray
Out of ye Fountain of Eternal Day.[1]
I grew excited as I continued reading. I had, at home, a book called Aurifontina Chymica, a useful book in all respects. In it, it speaks highly of one Bernardus Trevisanus, who had successfully created the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and had left hints in one poetic essay called The Fountain. Though the author of the Aurifontina Chymica did not have the manuscript of The Fountain, he did have access to one four line fragment, which he had dutifully reproduced. That the fragment had been reproduced in this work, with, what seemed to be a much larger context intrigued me to no end. Carefully, yet quickly, scanning a few prior pages convinced me that this, perhaps, was a copy of the hitherto lost Fountain, or at least a sufficient approximation to that work that it would still be useful.
Trying to prevent the shopkeeper from seeing my excitement at the find, I dutifully examined several other manuscripts, even half-heartedly attempting to bargain for a few before coming back to The Fountain. “And what outrageous price do you want for this?”
To my surprise, the clerk named a price, which while exorbitant for most, was actually slightly lower than I had expected. Which, of course, clued me in immediately that the shopkeeper had no idea of the real value of the book. As such, I knew that I could easily scam him. “About the only thing this is useful for is to start a fire.” I remarked, beginning to turn away. Seeing his sales slipping away, the shopkeeper immediately buckled, immediately halving the price. After a few minutes of haggling, I left, gleefully clutching the book, the poor ignorant shopkeeper happy with the minute price he had finally pried out of me. If I was right, this book would prove valuable clues in my quest for reproducing the elusive Philosopher’s Stone.
[1]I make no claims of the poem (which is not quoted in its entirety) being originally mine. I have left enough obvious hints about its origin that I don't feel guilty about not saying any more than that.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
There is no way I can compete with Strategos. 
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
It's not about competition. It's about having fun.
The above answer varies with whom you're talking to.
The above answer varies with whom you're talking to.
dldnjstjr
The Shrubber
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2006
- Messages
- 1,681
Isaac Hayden/dldnjstjr
Colour: Yellow
Nationality: Vestlundic
Bio: Born in the land of Vestlund, he was the second son of a noble family. From young age, he showed great interest in science, especially in physics, and proved many times to be highly precocious. As he grew up, his parents put him under many tutors, to learn as much as he could, and he was their pride. After his learnings were over, he became a professor in Vestlund College, after getting his Magisterate Degree (Mg.D), where he teaches theoretical physics and metaphysics. He is known for his peculiarity, where he often times locks himself up in his room for days for no particular reasons, and his "wild" imaginations. Some say that he is crazy, even schizophrenic, while some others claim that he is only pretending to be crazy for whatever his reasons. Nonetheless, he is the most respectable professor in all of Vestlund leading his life as normal as he can manage.
Technology: Generic
Forces: Aniote (Elementary particle found by him)
//edit: i just found that meson is actual thing, so i'll change the name. and since iggy didnt say anything against it, i'm sticking to it.
Colour: Yellow
Nationality: Vestlundic
Bio: Born in the land of Vestlund, he was the second son of a noble family. From young age, he showed great interest in science, especially in physics, and proved many times to be highly precocious. As he grew up, his parents put him under many tutors, to learn as much as he could, and he was their pride. After his learnings were over, he became a professor in Vestlund College, after getting his Magisterate Degree (Mg.D), where he teaches theoretical physics and metaphysics. He is known for his peculiarity, where he often times locks himself up in his room for days for no particular reasons, and his "wild" imaginations. Some say that he is crazy, even schizophrenic, while some others claim that he is only pretending to be crazy for whatever his reasons. Nonetheless, he is the most respectable professor in all of Vestlund leading his life as normal as he can manage.
Technology: Generic
Forces: Aniote (Elementary particle found by him)
//edit: i just found that meson is actual thing, so i'll change the name. and since iggy didnt say anything against it, i'm sticking to it.
dldnjstjr
The Shrubber
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2006
- Messages
- 1,681
Abnormal Normality
It was a normal day, in normal land, where normal students gathered to learn about abnormal things. It was Vestlund College's Physics class. The students were busy taking notes while their teacher sat on his desk, his feet folded neatly on top of his chair, reading some kind of a book, which no one could guess. The professor had written the day's lesson on the chalkboard the previous night, so while the students slaved away taking down every single words on the board, he was having the time of his life. Or so he thought, but instead of finding himself ironic, or even denotative, he merely coughed twice, and turned the page.
"Sir," interrupted a voice.
He turned to face the originating direction of the particular vibration of the space, and there stood a boy, or a man; he didn't care much about whether or not.
"Sorry, Magister Hayden. I didn't know there was class today."
Instead of answering him, the man by the name of Isaac Hayden resumed his reading.
"Do you-"
"No."
"mind if I sit down?"
"I said 'no'."
When most people said it, it might have sounded apathetic or even mean, but the way the professor said made it almost sound like an invitation. Of course, it was full of sarcasm; only no one could ever catch it.
He took a slight glance at his students slaving over writing the notes. The board wasn't too big, but he simply wrote small. Students had complained about his writings' size, but he didn't care. He wanted to fit the entire week's lesson on the single board because he never taught from a book. After all, it was theoretical physics class, they should have read the theory already. He was there to teach them something new, not help them to understand anything better. They could have done that in Advanced School, before they got into Vestlund College. The writings about Aniotic Physics filled the board. It was something new. Completely unheard of. Of course, his colleagues laughed at him for such an outrageous idea, but he didn't mind them. The college didn't fire him, yet, so he decided to teach whatever he wanted to teach. Only last month, he taught the theoretical practicality of polymorphic Gestring's Sphere.
One would marvel at the difference between Vestlund's way of life, mostly rural, and its college's academics. But when one would actually study any of it, at least in Hayden's class, they would understand that most of it weren't even practical, almost romantic hopes, rather than practical applications. The Gestring's Sphere, for example, was about invisible sphere which could contain and preserve the energy within it; it was completely against the laws of entrophy, the most basic of physics. But that's what the college paid Hayden for. And he loved it.
The Aniotic physics was something quite new. Long ago, ancient scientists and philosophers debated about the elementary properties of matter. They had gotten it down to something called "coa", meaning "small", but after years of studying its properties, Hayden mused that there could be something smaller than what had been accepted as "small enough already", as many of his students complained. Of course, he didn't know what it even look like, or that it could take physical form, but he had gotten most of its properties and how it functions within the physical world.
He didn't care whether the students were finished. He fled out of the room as soon as the bell rang three times from the clocktower, reckoning the end of the class. His students would stay for thirty more minutes; they'd study it at home, and Isaac had to prepare a "pop" quiz, which ceased to be pop-quiz because he always gave them after a lecture (note taking period), for them tomorrow morning. Just to mess them up, I shouldn't give them quiz tomorrow, he thought, and besides, new book by Charles Haggy is on sale tonight at Barens and Noels! He silently laughed manically, at the thought of its irony and perfect coincidence, even though it really wasn't, as he zipped through the hall.
It was a normal day, in normal land, where normal students gathered to learn about abnormal things. It was Vestlund College's Physics class. The students were busy taking notes while their teacher sat on his desk, his feet folded neatly on top of his chair, reading some kind of a book, which no one could guess. The professor had written the day's lesson on the chalkboard the previous night, so while the students slaved away taking down every single words on the board, he was having the time of his life. Or so he thought, but instead of finding himself ironic, or even denotative, he merely coughed twice, and turned the page.
"Sir," interrupted a voice.
He turned to face the originating direction of the particular vibration of the space, and there stood a boy, or a man; he didn't care much about whether or not.
"Sorry, Magister Hayden. I didn't know there was class today."
Instead of answering him, the man by the name of Isaac Hayden resumed his reading.
"Do you-"
"No."
"mind if I sit down?"
"I said 'no'."
When most people said it, it might have sounded apathetic or even mean, but the way the professor said made it almost sound like an invitation. Of course, it was full of sarcasm; only no one could ever catch it.
He took a slight glance at his students slaving over writing the notes. The board wasn't too big, but he simply wrote small. Students had complained about his writings' size, but he didn't care. He wanted to fit the entire week's lesson on the single board because he never taught from a book. After all, it was theoretical physics class, they should have read the theory already. He was there to teach them something new, not help them to understand anything better. They could have done that in Advanced School, before they got into Vestlund College. The writings about Aniotic Physics filled the board. It was something new. Completely unheard of. Of course, his colleagues laughed at him for such an outrageous idea, but he didn't mind them. The college didn't fire him, yet, so he decided to teach whatever he wanted to teach. Only last month, he taught the theoretical practicality of polymorphic Gestring's Sphere.
One would marvel at the difference between Vestlund's way of life, mostly rural, and its college's academics. But when one would actually study any of it, at least in Hayden's class, they would understand that most of it weren't even practical, almost romantic hopes, rather than practical applications. The Gestring's Sphere, for example, was about invisible sphere which could contain and preserve the energy within it; it was completely against the laws of entrophy, the most basic of physics. But that's what the college paid Hayden for. And he loved it.
The Aniotic physics was something quite new. Long ago, ancient scientists and philosophers debated about the elementary properties of matter. They had gotten it down to something called "coa", meaning "small", but after years of studying its properties, Hayden mused that there could be something smaller than what had been accepted as "small enough already", as many of his students complained. Of course, he didn't know what it even look like, or that it could take physical form, but he had gotten most of its properties and how it functions within the physical world.
He didn't care whether the students were finished. He fled out of the room as soon as the bell rang three times from the clocktower, reckoning the end of the class. His students would stay for thirty more minutes; they'd study it at home, and Isaac had to prepare a "pop" quiz, which ceased to be pop-quiz because he always gave them after a lecture (note taking period), for them tomorrow morning. Just to mess them up, I shouldn't give them quiz tomorrow, he thought, and besides, new book by Charles Haggy is on sale tonight at Barens and Noels! He silently laughed manically, at the thought of its irony and perfect coincidence, even though it really wasn't, as he zipped through the hall.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Octavian Germanicus/germanicus12
Colour: Gold? Dark Red?
Nationality: Pjolaka
Bio: Born to a wealthy family he was introduced to all things mechanical and quickly became fascinated. So his parents bought him books and toys for him to break apart and put back together, when he was a teen he created a robot version of himself and gave it some clothes. Soon the parents turned up in pieces and the entire Family fortune entered Octavians hands. The debate still rages as to whether or not Octavian's robot killed the family or not. But he is still respected among his peers as the world's greatest scientist at 16, there is even talk that he could take the throne if he wanted being the most wealthiest man in the nation.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 Legionairre.
Colour: Gold? Dark Red?
Nationality: Pjolaka
Bio: Born to a wealthy family he was introduced to all things mechanical and quickly became fascinated. So his parents bought him books and toys for him to break apart and put back together, when he was a teen he created a robot version of himself and gave it some clothes. Soon the parents turned up in pieces and the entire Family fortune entered Octavians hands. The debate still rages as to whether or not Octavian's robot killed the family or not. But he is still respected among his peers as the world's greatest scientist at 16, there is even talk that he could take the throne if he wanted being the most wealthiest man in the nation.
Technology: Generic
Forces: 1 Legionairre.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Octavian looked around his room, with his parents gone the entire house and fortune was his to do as he wished, as much as he wanted to build more and more Legionairres, he did not want to raise the Nobility and have the King's army brought down on him so soon. He had to bide his time and slowly build up, he turned to Julius his only Legionairre and spoke, "Someday, we will rule the world!" He laughed evilly and Julius just clanked and let off a loud steam sound. Octavian turned to him and said, "Man, what have you been eating?"
Octavian looked at his workshop, he had enough supplies to make one more Legionairre, but he did not have the time, he thought about teaching Julius to make it for him but unfortunatly Julius was not as highly trained or even have enough brain space in that big chunk of metal he calls a head. But at least he knows how to fight, Octavian took comfort in that thought, Julius was after all only a bodyguard, but soon he will have an army of highly trained and smart soldiers who will march to the Capitol and sieze the throne. Again Octavian laughed evilly.
Octavian looked at his workshop, he had enough supplies to make one more Legionairre, but he did not have the time, he thought about teaching Julius to make it for him but unfortunatly Julius was not as highly trained or even have enough brain space in that big chunk of metal he calls a head. But at least he knows how to fight, Octavian took comfort in that thought, Julius was after all only a bodyguard, but soon he will have an army of highly trained and smart soldiers who will march to the Capitol and sieze the throne. Again Octavian laughed evilly.
e350tb
Stupendously Illogical Englishman
The upper-class man was obviously eccentic. He'd just spent three hours in a workshop, and his formal looking clothing (top hat, bow tie, all of that stuff) was covered in greese and soot.
He put his arm around the sholder of his assistant, a man in brown overalls and a cloth cap, and turned him to face the idle Steamhulk.
"What do you think?"
"Sir, no offense, bu' you buil' tha' a week ago."
Idle, the Steamhulk was a rather rugged creation, currently having its boiler cleaned by two men dressed similarly to the assistant. It had a smokebox similar to that of a Anglican Steam Locomotive. It was massive, but had been designed for maximum effectivity in the railway loading gauge.
Peter Williams was good at that.
"Bob," he said, turning to the assistant, 'I'd like to present to you a thing to rack your mind..."
The workshop door opened, and eight soldiers (dressed in a similar fasion to British soldiers in World War One) wheeled out a gigantic gun.
"Tha's a big gun..." Bob began.
Williams winked. The soldiers ducked down, and the gun fired.
A gigantic tear was created in the concrete wall of the building.
"The Mega Gun," Williams announced, "Amazing what it can do with a little explosive."
Bob gasped.
"Anyway, I was about to say that we're moving."
"Movin', sir?"
"Yes, I'm moving our operations to the New Age, my personal ship. We will be steaming to the mainland with the steamhulk, mega gun and my fleet of locomotives..."
He put his arm around the sholder of his assistant, a man in brown overalls and a cloth cap, and turned him to face the idle Steamhulk.
"What do you think?"
"Sir, no offense, bu' you buil' tha' a week ago."
Idle, the Steamhulk was a rather rugged creation, currently having its boiler cleaned by two men dressed similarly to the assistant. It had a smokebox similar to that of a Anglican Steam Locomotive. It was massive, but had been designed for maximum effectivity in the railway loading gauge.
Peter Williams was good at that.
"Bob," he said, turning to the assistant, 'I'd like to present to you a thing to rack your mind..."
The workshop door opened, and eight soldiers (dressed in a similar fasion to British soldiers in World War One) wheeled out a gigantic gun.
"Tha's a big gun..." Bob began.
Williams winked. The soldiers ducked down, and the gun fired.
A gigantic tear was created in the concrete wall of the building.
"The Mega Gun," Williams announced, "Amazing what it can do with a little explosive."
Bob gasped.
"Anyway, I was about to say that we're moving."
"Movin', sir?"
"Yes, I'm moving our operations to the New Age, my personal ship. We will be steaming to the mainland with the steamhulk, mega gun and my fleet of locomotives..."
February, Year One
As many of the nations of the world take their first baby steps into the industrial age. With the growth of great new academies, and the spread of machinery, the gifted are beginning to discover their powers. In the past, many people with similar talents have been brilliant architects, or brilliant blacksmiths, or lunatic dreamers. But only now, in a world of machinery, steam and clockwork, are these abilities used to their fullest.
Formerly of the Academy of Mechanical Sciences in Medland, Dr. Leopold Vermeulen was, after a series of mechanical mishaps culminating in the inadvertent impalement of a student, left the country. His travels led him far south, into the mountains of northern Rabiyya. With his robot Boilerplate, he continued his work, creating a variety of semi-lethal machines and reputedly terrorizing the local Rabiyyan villages. Attempts to liberate Bellovan have so far not taken place, and attempts to make a giant fire-breathing mechanical cat have resulted in failure. His latest creation is a vehicle named Robert, a rather unwieldy (yet shockingly fast) treaded, spiked carriage. He may need to use it soon, as the villagers are gathering their farm equipment and torches...
Nikolai Dante, previously a scientist in Czar Michaels Court, has moved his work to the northern Sankt Kyrillas region. Plans for making his way back to court have been overshadowed by his works at building a zeppelin, which have been overshadowed by his attempts to get into a relationship, which have been overshadowed by his growing alcoholism, which is probably due to his failures at the previous attempt.
High Inquisitor Leonardo has been cast out of his position (though he still refers to himself with his former title) in the Espanic clergy due to his draconian efforts at converting various heathen groups which were considered to be overzealous (a rare statement in the fervent nation of Espan). He has traveled to Sitala, where he can focus on his interest in the sciences, performing his rather dark experiments with impunity.
The Anglian businessman Peter Williams has used his recently-discovered talents to found Anglias first proper railroad. He is rapidly growing wealthy, as his trains can outperform all competitors, resulting in an almost-unassailable monopoly. Privately, he has created an armoured cannon in his basement. The steam hulk is painfully slow, but could be a deadly weapon in the right hands.
Kalim ibn Abd-al-Wahhab Al-Bayyati, a prince of Rabiyya, has thrown off his royal garments following a religious experience and left to live a pure, priestly life in the oasis-town of Bayyat. As a hobby, he has taken to salvaging things from the rocky desert around him. From these materials, he has constructed a small steam buggy capable of traversing the desert.
Franz Braun, a prodigy Alleman engineer, has been working for years to bring his nation into the age of industry. Recently, he has locked himself away in his small residences, claiming to be working on a project which will change the world forever. Little has been heard from him, and it has been several months since his self-imposed house arrest began. Only supply runners, asking for an odd mix of food and metal, have been seen or heard from.
al-Shamdli, also known as Gregore Angarine, is a well-educated, slightly sociopathic young man. He spent several past years traveling the world, making several enemies and failing to find purpose. Eventually seeking to start his life over, he took on an assumed name and traveled to the Shahdom of Khur, where he has become one of the Shahs close friends and advisors. His time in Khur seems to be having a positive effect- the proximity to rule is both soothing and empowering.
Julius Magnus, the heir of an ancient Magnataean family (which at one point several centuries ago ruled), has set out to regain his familys position by finding the legendary Philosophers Stone. So far, he and his mecharachnid assistant have found few good leads, sans one book found in one of the countless antique stores.
After discovering his spark, Ryan Amedeus, an Eirian in Anglia, has set out to make a good mark on the world. He is seeking out other people with similar abilities to him, of whom he has heard naught but rumours.
Professor Isaac Hayden, employed at the Royal College of Vestlund, has spent an increasing amount of time researching theoretical subatomic particles. His pioneering work in aniotic physics has many of his contemporaries scratching their heads. It is possible that Professor Hayden is not yet entirely aware of his spark, which seems to be specialized in matters of theory rather than practicality.
Octavian Germanicus is young, wealthy, handsome, charming, and a closet egocentric megalomaniac. With the creation of his combat Legionairre robot, the prototype named Julius, another step towards power is made.
In international news, King Jacques III has passed away young, following a life of alcoholic hedonism. His 12 year old son, Geoffrey, has succeeded him to the throne of Gallia.
Note to dldnjstjr: Forces means the things youve built. For the moment, your guy is a physicist, so Ill assume that he hasnt made anything concrete yet.
Map
As many of the nations of the world take their first baby steps into the industrial age. With the growth of great new academies, and the spread of machinery, the gifted are beginning to discover their powers. In the past, many people with similar talents have been brilliant architects, or brilliant blacksmiths, or lunatic dreamers. But only now, in a world of machinery, steam and clockwork, are these abilities used to their fullest.
Formerly of the Academy of Mechanical Sciences in Medland, Dr. Leopold Vermeulen was, after a series of mechanical mishaps culminating in the inadvertent impalement of a student, left the country. His travels led him far south, into the mountains of northern Rabiyya. With his robot Boilerplate, he continued his work, creating a variety of semi-lethal machines and reputedly terrorizing the local Rabiyyan villages. Attempts to liberate Bellovan have so far not taken place, and attempts to make a giant fire-breathing mechanical cat have resulted in failure. His latest creation is a vehicle named Robert, a rather unwieldy (yet shockingly fast) treaded, spiked carriage. He may need to use it soon, as the villagers are gathering their farm equipment and torches...
Nikolai Dante, previously a scientist in Czar Michaels Court, has moved his work to the northern Sankt Kyrillas region. Plans for making his way back to court have been overshadowed by his works at building a zeppelin, which have been overshadowed by his attempts to get into a relationship, which have been overshadowed by his growing alcoholism, which is probably due to his failures at the previous attempt.
High Inquisitor Leonardo has been cast out of his position (though he still refers to himself with his former title) in the Espanic clergy due to his draconian efforts at converting various heathen groups which were considered to be overzealous (a rare statement in the fervent nation of Espan). He has traveled to Sitala, where he can focus on his interest in the sciences, performing his rather dark experiments with impunity.
The Anglian businessman Peter Williams has used his recently-discovered talents to found Anglias first proper railroad. He is rapidly growing wealthy, as his trains can outperform all competitors, resulting in an almost-unassailable monopoly. Privately, he has created an armoured cannon in his basement. The steam hulk is painfully slow, but could be a deadly weapon in the right hands.
Kalim ibn Abd-al-Wahhab Al-Bayyati, a prince of Rabiyya, has thrown off his royal garments following a religious experience and left to live a pure, priestly life in the oasis-town of Bayyat. As a hobby, he has taken to salvaging things from the rocky desert around him. From these materials, he has constructed a small steam buggy capable of traversing the desert.
Franz Braun, a prodigy Alleman engineer, has been working for years to bring his nation into the age of industry. Recently, he has locked himself away in his small residences, claiming to be working on a project which will change the world forever. Little has been heard from him, and it has been several months since his self-imposed house arrest began. Only supply runners, asking for an odd mix of food and metal, have been seen or heard from.
al-Shamdli, also known as Gregore Angarine, is a well-educated, slightly sociopathic young man. He spent several past years traveling the world, making several enemies and failing to find purpose. Eventually seeking to start his life over, he took on an assumed name and traveled to the Shahdom of Khur, where he has become one of the Shahs close friends and advisors. His time in Khur seems to be having a positive effect- the proximity to rule is both soothing and empowering.
Julius Magnus, the heir of an ancient Magnataean family (which at one point several centuries ago ruled), has set out to regain his familys position by finding the legendary Philosophers Stone. So far, he and his mecharachnid assistant have found few good leads, sans one book found in one of the countless antique stores.
After discovering his spark, Ryan Amedeus, an Eirian in Anglia, has set out to make a good mark on the world. He is seeking out other people with similar abilities to him, of whom he has heard naught but rumours.
Professor Isaac Hayden, employed at the Royal College of Vestlund, has spent an increasing amount of time researching theoretical subatomic particles. His pioneering work in aniotic physics has many of his contemporaries scratching their heads. It is possible that Professor Hayden is not yet entirely aware of his spark, which seems to be specialized in matters of theory rather than practicality.
Octavian Germanicus is young, wealthy, handsome, charming, and a closet egocentric megalomaniac. With the creation of his combat Legionairre robot, the prototype named Julius, another step towards power is made.
In international news, King Jacques III has passed away young, following a life of alcoholic hedonism. His 12 year old son, Geoffrey, has succeeded him to the throne of Gallia.
Note to dldnjstjr: Forces means the things youve built. For the moment, your guy is a physicist, so Ill assume that he hasnt made anything concrete yet.
Map
dldnjstjr
The Shrubber
- Joined
- Aug 4, 2006
- Messages
- 1,681
Land, Ho!
"What the hell does that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly as it says, the aniotes are negatively charged particles smaller than the coae."
"Do they make up the coae?"
"I don't know for sure, but I'll bet that it isn't."
"Why is that?"
"Then where would you get Phrons and Anarons from?"
"But still, what the hell does that supposed to mean?"
"Want to take my class?"
"If you'll take mine."
"No thanks. I know how I teach my class, and I also know that you're a competitive jackhole."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The second day in class was more, or less, should one say, boring, even painful. Professor Hayden taught for the most of the class time, and didn't give them a quiz. When he announced that, he heard many groans from the students. He thought it was funny. He showed them the simulated behaviours of the Aniote particles, which he abbreviated to Nu, an ancient alphabet for letter N. He didn't choose Alpha because the phrositon were, for some obscure reasons, perhaps it was the easiest. To his class, he was able to prove that the Nu particle was not part of the regular coae which made up the matters, according to the ancient philosophers. But it wasn't something that completely came out of thin air. It was a different version of the broken down coae. It was, in effect, anaron, but at the same time, behaved differently. It appeared that aniotes always repelled it self, or vice versa, depending on strength of the anbaric field, from the normal coae. And what was unique was that it had almost no mass even compared to the phrons or anarons.
"Sir," a tentative hand rose among the students, "but what does that all mean?"
"Exactly as it was shown."
"I mean... what does it mean about the entire physical world in general?"
"It seems that aniotes both creates and negates very powerful anbaric field, distorting the physical matters around it."
"And what's the point of that?"
"I think you're in the wrong class."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Dammit Hayden," said the Headmaster of the Vestlund College one day, "I know that we pay you to not do anything physically productive, but things have changed."
Isaac didn't respond. What was the point of it anyways? He was going to respond as he would any rhetorics. He raised his eyebrows.
"I want you to make something. Like what? I don't know. I hear in other lands, their professors make wild gadgets and robots."
"I'm not the only professor or Magistrate degree holder in the college."
"I know, but you still are one of them. And I want all of them to be working on something. Any professors, Magistrate or not, who doesn't have any physical contribution to the college will be fired. Is that understood?"
"If I don't, then do I have to take your class?"
"Don't be a smartalec. Just whip something up with your aniote physics."
"Uh... okay. How about a physical model of it?"
"Hmm... and how's that going to help?"
"It'll be pretty. With many colors."
"Shut up and get to work."
"Aye, sir."
"You're not a sailor."
"YARRRGHHH"
And Isaac was back in his office in less than a minute, trying to think of something.
"What the hell does that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly as it says, the aniotes are negatively charged particles smaller than the coae."
"Do they make up the coae?"
"I don't know for sure, but I'll bet that it isn't."
"Why is that?"
"Then where would you get Phrons and Anarons from?"
"But still, what the hell does that supposed to mean?"
"Want to take my class?"
"If you'll take mine."
"No thanks. I know how I teach my class, and I also know that you're a competitive jackhole."
-------------------------------------------------------------
The second day in class was more, or less, should one say, boring, even painful. Professor Hayden taught for the most of the class time, and didn't give them a quiz. When he announced that, he heard many groans from the students. He thought it was funny. He showed them the simulated behaviours of the Aniote particles, which he abbreviated to Nu, an ancient alphabet for letter N. He didn't choose Alpha because the phrositon were, for some obscure reasons, perhaps it was the easiest. To his class, he was able to prove that the Nu particle was not part of the regular coae which made up the matters, according to the ancient philosophers. But it wasn't something that completely came out of thin air. It was a different version of the broken down coae. It was, in effect, anaron, but at the same time, behaved differently. It appeared that aniotes always repelled it self, or vice versa, depending on strength of the anbaric field, from the normal coae. And what was unique was that it had almost no mass even compared to the phrons or anarons.
"Sir," a tentative hand rose among the students, "but what does that all mean?"
"Exactly as it was shown."
"I mean... what does it mean about the entire physical world in general?"
"It seems that aniotes both creates and negates very powerful anbaric field, distorting the physical matters around it."
"And what's the point of that?"
"I think you're in the wrong class."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"Dammit Hayden," said the Headmaster of the Vestlund College one day, "I know that we pay you to not do anything physically productive, but things have changed."
Isaac didn't respond. What was the point of it anyways? He was going to respond as he would any rhetorics. He raised his eyebrows.
"I want you to make something. Like what? I don't know. I hear in other lands, their professors make wild gadgets and robots."
"I'm not the only professor or Magistrate degree holder in the college."
"I know, but you still are one of them. And I want all of them to be working on something. Any professors, Magistrate or not, who doesn't have any physical contribution to the college will be fired. Is that understood?"
"If I don't, then do I have to take your class?"
"Don't be a smartalec. Just whip something up with your aniote physics."
"Uh... okay. How about a physical model of it?"
"Hmm... and how's that going to help?"
"It'll be pretty. With many colors."
"Shut up and get to work."
"Aye, sir."
"You're not a sailor."
"YARRRGHHH"
And Isaac was back in his office in less than a minute, trying to think of something.
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