SteamNES
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Octavian walked outside with Julius in tow, once outside Octavian took a deep breath of air and looked around, he saw a pack of wolves eating nearby and smiled, "Perfect. Julius I want you to stand here and watch ok." Octavian then turned and faced the house and shouted, "Legionairre! Front and center!" A loud baning noise could be heard deep inside the house. Soon a figure showed up at the cellar door and stepped outside, at first glance this robot looked like Julius, thick steel armor and red eyes.
"Legionairre! Destroy that pack of wolves!"
"As you command master." The arms turned into machine guns which fired rapidly at the pack of wolves, within seconds the wolves were decimated. Octavian chuckled, "Now destroy that shack."
"As you command master." The arms shifted from machine guns into cannons, the guns fired, and a loud boom filled the air. Once the smoke cleared the shack was gone and the Legionairre stood there motionless. Octavian breathed then exhaled deeply, "Beautiful, 100 more of these machines and I can claim the throne. But where can I get the extra time? These things costs too much, so either I find a way to get more time or I figure out how to save time on these."
"Legionairre! Destroy that pack of wolves!"
"As you command master." The arms turned into machine guns which fired rapidly at the pack of wolves, within seconds the wolves were decimated. Octavian chuckled, "Now destroy that shack."
"As you command master." The arms shifted from machine guns into cannons, the guns fired, and a loud boom filled the air. Once the smoke cleared the shack was gone and the Legionairre stood there motionless. Octavian breathed then exhaled deeply, "Beautiful, 100 more of these machines and I can claim the throne. But where can I get the extra time? These things costs too much, so either I find a way to get more time or I figure out how to save time on these."
flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
@Lord_Iggy: I noticed you made Lord Seichiro Yamamoto the de facto leader of Nihojon.
Spoiler :
das
Regeneration In Process
Hopefully the Shah would be kind enough to provide his favourite artificer with sufficient resources.
@Lord_Iggy: I noticed you made Lord Seichiro Yamamoto the de facto leader of Nihojon.
Spoiler :
Ah... that's pretty elabourate. I could change the name again if you'd like.Hopefully the Shah would be kind enough to provide his favourite artificer with sufficient resources.
@Nuke- Yes it is, though I'm surprised that he managed all of the conversions so quickly.
The power of Faith Iggy, plus he doesn't need as much rest, as his body is modified a bit
flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
I'm just gonna beeline to "modernization then fall and collapse." No need to change anything. 
Dear Lord Gabriel Blacktyde, Ryan Amedeus, Peter Williams
My esteemed collegues, I would much like to meet with you, perhaps in the Spark Cafe in the capital, I feel that a discussion point for our ideas and inventions will only serve to catapult ourselves and our patrons into greater glory.
Please respond directly.
Yours sincerly
William Weir
William weir had several ideas bouncing around his head at any one time, several of which were simple insanity. The main problem corssing his mind at this time was wether his steam robots should include a "driver" or be automated, yes automated systems were more compact and less vunrable but they had several limitations and required a lot more work.
Either way He had an idea for the Anglian Government and he needed some backing prior to creating it, and selling it to the government. Perhaps if it sold well he could buy up an iron foundry and other casting equipment, then he could sell it further to the government....
As of now though he needed to impress the government so he would use his most recent creation, He called him his "sharp dressed man", more a simple automated system than anything, good for menial tasks and with a few security precautions it acted as an adequete body-guard. Unfortunatly the steam pressure had to be a lot higher to power all the extra systems, making his "sharp dressed man" much less reliable than the walker design he had created. It had to go somewhere, you couldn't fully armour it because it took power away from its operating systems and Peter had been unable to find a gun that could fire without slowing down the design to a mere snails pace, useless in battle, useless as a servant.
Thus he had kept it simple, gave it a simple systems base and merely made it walk at the same pace as his walker. Which he was using to approach the houses of Parliment, followed by his show piece of his abilities; His sharped dressed man.
Either way He had an idea for the Anglian Government and he needed some backing prior to creating it, and selling it to the government. Perhaps if it sold well he could buy up an iron foundry and other casting equipment, then he could sell it further to the government....
As of now though he needed to impress the government so he would use his most recent creation, He called him his "sharp dressed man", more a simple automated system than anything, good for menial tasks and with a few security precautions it acted as an adequete body-guard. Unfortunatly the steam pressure had to be a lot higher to power all the extra systems, making his "sharp dressed man" much less reliable than the walker design he had created. It had to go somewhere, you couldn't fully armour it because it took power away from its operating systems and Peter had been unable to find a gun that could fire without slowing down the design to a mere snails pace, useless in battle, useless as a servant.
Thus he had kept it simple, gave it a simple systems base and merely made it walk at the same pace as his walker. Which he was using to approach the houses of Parliment, followed by his show piece of his abilities; His sharped dressed man.
Fuschia
A Little Odd
He hadn't wanted to come, but it seemed as though this upstart craftsmen had made something else "worthwhile." He hadn't really seen the point in "tick-less" watches. Hopefully this would be worth his time. The last of Jeremy's inventions had been significantly under par: a spring-powered, walking dog not bigger than his hand. He really didn't see the point to such trinkets. His job was to secure technologies that would better the state, not to look into every pointless development that Jeremy made.
The majority of the crowd that entered the hall were clock makers, although he could see representatives from a few other of the Southeastern States, and even one from Duria. Maybe this would be good after all...
And then everyone was silent. Jeremy was walking onto the stage, which was unusual, to say the least: he had been born with a club foot, to unknown parents, and was not particularly adept at, or interested in, anything but tinkering. He left his wheelchair at the foot of the stairs, walked up them and towards the podium. He was very pale, slightly stooped, and had an odd, perpetual smile on his face as though someone, somewhere, was being funny in a way only he could get.
His reaching the podium in and of itself was agonizing to watch, and he was granted a round of applause simply by reaching it. He had no notes, shuffled no papers; Jeremy's memory had always been perfect, he had no need for such simple things. He opened his mouth, and closed it. Then he waved.
A second round of applause ensued, seemingly much louder than the first. And then I saw it: a man-sized, metallic insect, flying with a whirring, clacking noise that seemed to frighten everyone. On top of that, it was spewing smoke or some-such, clouding everyone's vision. It landed on the stage next to Jeremy; he opened his mouth, and this time it did not close.
"Fascinating, isn't it? Steam is such a wonderful thing when it comes to movement. Efficient, cheap, and powerful. This is my newest invention, the Dragonfly," he said, pronouncing the capital letter with a slight air of arrogance.
"It flies, obviously. Although not up, only across or down. No pilot necessary, either! I run it rather simply, although none of you would understand that, you aren't me. All you need to know is that I am willing to produce and improve upon this design for the highest bidder. That is all."
Jeremy exited to a back-room. Another man, took the stand: it was one of Jeremy's brothers, Howard. "Jeremy will hear the offers from nations in order of distance from his home. As such, you get to go first," Howard said, pointing at the man. He quickly got up and entered the back room.
Jeremy was in his wheelchair again. As there were no chairs, the man stood, and made his offer.
"We will give you whatever you want: money, land, status. Anything," the man said.
"I expected more from you. Still, it was what I expected. I will take it," said Jeremy, looking amused. He waved the man from the room. As he exited, Howard was already explaining to the other delegates that Jeremy had taken the first offer and that the rest of them could now leave. And the man left as well.
The Dragonfly
The Dragonfly is a self-piloting, man-sized flying machine run by five steam engines. It is operated by the flapping of wings, with one wing being controlled by one engine. Turning is handled by using one set of wings more frequently than the others. Elevation is impossible, as is hovering.
The fifth engine relegates which wings flap and when through a long metal sheet filled with holes; the holes come in rows, with there being anywhere from one to four holes in each row. The engine spins the sheet through an area into which each of the other four steam engines' steam runs. With four holes, each wing flaps, and with no holes, no wings flap. This allows for simple flight programs to be painstakingly created by punching holes in metal sheets, although the programs are easily replicable once created.
The Dragonfly's frame is very lightweight. It is impossible to add additional weight, as it would not fly; even exceptionally long flight patterns cause it to go over its weight limit. Its other main structural draw-back is that the steam engines are very openly set; as such, accidental or purposeful puncturing is very easy.
The majority of the crowd that entered the hall were clock makers, although he could see representatives from a few other of the Southeastern States, and even one from Duria. Maybe this would be good after all...
And then everyone was silent. Jeremy was walking onto the stage, which was unusual, to say the least: he had been born with a club foot, to unknown parents, and was not particularly adept at, or interested in, anything but tinkering. He left his wheelchair at the foot of the stairs, walked up them and towards the podium. He was very pale, slightly stooped, and had an odd, perpetual smile on his face as though someone, somewhere, was being funny in a way only he could get.
His reaching the podium in and of itself was agonizing to watch, and he was granted a round of applause simply by reaching it. He had no notes, shuffled no papers; Jeremy's memory had always been perfect, he had no need for such simple things. He opened his mouth, and closed it. Then he waved.
A second round of applause ensued, seemingly much louder than the first. And then I saw it: a man-sized, metallic insect, flying with a whirring, clacking noise that seemed to frighten everyone. On top of that, it was spewing smoke or some-such, clouding everyone's vision. It landed on the stage next to Jeremy; he opened his mouth, and this time it did not close.
"Fascinating, isn't it? Steam is such a wonderful thing when it comes to movement. Efficient, cheap, and powerful. This is my newest invention, the Dragonfly," he said, pronouncing the capital letter with a slight air of arrogance.
"It flies, obviously. Although not up, only across or down. No pilot necessary, either! I run it rather simply, although none of you would understand that, you aren't me. All you need to know is that I am willing to produce and improve upon this design for the highest bidder. That is all."
Jeremy exited to a back-room. Another man, took the stand: it was one of Jeremy's brothers, Howard. "Jeremy will hear the offers from nations in order of distance from his home. As such, you get to go first," Howard said, pointing at the man. He quickly got up and entered the back room.
Jeremy was in his wheelchair again. As there were no chairs, the man stood, and made his offer.
"We will give you whatever you want: money, land, status. Anything," the man said.
"I expected more from you. Still, it was what I expected. I will take it," said Jeremy, looking amused. He waved the man from the room. As he exited, Howard was already explaining to the other delegates that Jeremy had taken the first offer and that the rest of them could now leave. And the man left as well.
The Dragonfly
The Dragonfly is a self-piloting, man-sized flying machine run by five steam engines. It is operated by the flapping of wings, with one wing being controlled by one engine. Turning is handled by using one set of wings more frequently than the others. Elevation is impossible, as is hovering.
The fifth engine relegates which wings flap and when through a long metal sheet filled with holes; the holes come in rows, with there being anywhere from one to four holes in each row. The engine spins the sheet through an area into which each of the other four steam engines' steam runs. With four holes, each wing flaps, and with no holes, no wings flap. This allows for simple flight programs to be painstakingly created by punching holes in metal sheets, although the programs are easily replicable once created.
The Dragonfly's frame is very lightweight. It is impossible to add additional weight, as it would not fly; even exceptionally long flight patterns cause it to go over its weight limit. Its other main structural draw-back is that the steam engines are very openly set; as such, accidental or purposeful puncturing is very easy.
)
LittleBoots
The Bloody Banner
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2006
- Messages
- 1,979
Upon the battlefields of righteousness await those called by Allah to stand against the pagan, the infidel, the unbeliever. No lasting peace may be made with those who stand against the Will of the Creator, for all will one day call him LORD, or else perish, consumed by the void as dust in the desert or tears in rain. -Judgment 1:1-3
His tongue, cracked as the packed sand beneath his feet, wagged for water and his legs pulsed with pain. He felt close to death and his horse was not so far off either. It was nothing; it had been this way before, and, if he had his stars right, which he always did, there was a small border town just over the next dune. He turned to his horse, reassuring:
"Aqa, we are almost to water, my friend. It is not so far off now. Keep your head up, just past this next dune."
As they crested the dune and came down into the city, he first heard, then felt, the oppressive silence of the village.
"Not a chosen soul in sight, Aqa. Where are the people? But first, let us to the well."
After slaking their thirst, he slowly led his horse around the village until he came to the rocky path to the valley oasis. It was there he saw the entire village assembled, with one man tied to a pillar and another speaking to the crowd. He tied his horse and crept closer in order to satisfy his curiosity. From somewhere nearby, he heard the beating of heavy drums.
***
"This man," shouted the simply dressed man pacing upon the altar stage, "this man has stolen from the village. This man, this Shamdli, he has come here with his mechanical beasts and quick words, promising wealth and riches. All he asks in return is your very souls! There can be no trafficking with the infidel! This man acknowledges no providence but that which is wrought by his own hands! He knows no authority but that he places upon himself! This man knows not God, but Man! He is worse than the Pagan, he is not munafiq, he is kaffir!"
The kaffir, tied to the pillar behind the orator wore the tattered remnants of the suit of a European businessman. His mouth was bound and his face bloodied. A rope fastening his neck to the pillar kept him from collapsing to the floor. The traveller looked on in awe as the crowd cheered and jeered and the drums beat a little faster.
"No more will the people be slaves to his kind! No longer will we grovel to foreign infidels! We will kneel before God and God alone, not his empty promises. Who among you has what it takes to submit to God? Who among you fear Allah? Who among you will dedicate your lives to His service?"
Shouts from the crowd. He had worked them into a fever pitch. One man spoke above the rest. No, not a man. He had not yet seen twenty harvests. Beardless. He looked around. Those drums...
"I will die for Allah!"
The man stopped pacing and demanded silence, yet the drums continued. He looked over the crowd. Where were those drums coming from?
"Who spoke those words?"
The young man, taken aback at the reaction, hesitated before raising his hand. The orator ordered him to come up onto the stage.
"What did you say, young one?"
"I-I-I..." he said, faltering.
"You... what?" replied the other.
Steeling himself, the boy answered, "I will die for Allah."
"That is good..." the older man replied. He leaned in, his eyes blazing with the fires of prophetic truth, the righteousness of God animating his every move. Closer and closer those eyes came, and then suddenly stopped. His hand extended, revealing a knife. He grabbed the boy's hand and forced it open, placing the knife firmly in his palm. The drums beat faster and faster, drowning everything out, the cheering of the crowd, the frantic screaming of the man tied to the pillar, the braying of a nearby donkey, louder, louder, faster, louder.
They stopped.
"...but will you kill for him?"
His tongue, cracked as the packed sand beneath his feet, wagged for water and his legs pulsed with pain. He felt close to death and his horse was not so far off either. It was nothing; it had been this way before, and, if he had his stars right, which he always did, there was a small border town just over the next dune. He turned to his horse, reassuring:
"Aqa, we are almost to water, my friend. It is not so far off now. Keep your head up, just past this next dune."
As they crested the dune and came down into the city, he first heard, then felt, the oppressive silence of the village.
"Not a chosen soul in sight, Aqa. Where are the people? But first, let us to the well."
After slaking their thirst, he slowly led his horse around the village until he came to the rocky path to the valley oasis. It was there he saw the entire village assembled, with one man tied to a pillar and another speaking to the crowd. He tied his horse and crept closer in order to satisfy his curiosity. From somewhere nearby, he heard the beating of heavy drums.
***
"This man," shouted the simply dressed man pacing upon the altar stage, "this man has stolen from the village. This man, this Shamdli, he has come here with his mechanical beasts and quick words, promising wealth and riches. All he asks in return is your very souls! There can be no trafficking with the infidel! This man acknowledges no providence but that which is wrought by his own hands! He knows no authority but that he places upon himself! This man knows not God, but Man! He is worse than the Pagan, he is not munafiq, he is kaffir!"
The kaffir, tied to the pillar behind the orator wore the tattered remnants of the suit of a European businessman. His mouth was bound and his face bloodied. A rope fastening his neck to the pillar kept him from collapsing to the floor. The traveller looked on in awe as the crowd cheered and jeered and the drums beat a little faster.
"No more will the people be slaves to his kind! No longer will we grovel to foreign infidels! We will kneel before God and God alone, not his empty promises. Who among you has what it takes to submit to God? Who among you fear Allah? Who among you will dedicate your lives to His service?"
Shouts from the crowd. He had worked them into a fever pitch. One man spoke above the rest. No, not a man. He had not yet seen twenty harvests. Beardless. He looked around. Those drums...
"I will die for Allah!"
The man stopped pacing and demanded silence, yet the drums continued. He looked over the crowd. Where were those drums coming from?
"Who spoke those words?"
The young man, taken aback at the reaction, hesitated before raising his hand. The orator ordered him to come up onto the stage.
"What did you say, young one?"
"I-I-I..." he said, faltering.
"You... what?" replied the other.
Steeling himself, the boy answered, "I will die for Allah."
"That is good..." the older man replied. He leaned in, his eyes blazing with the fires of prophetic truth, the righteousness of God animating his every move. Closer and closer those eyes came, and then suddenly stopped. His hand extended, revealing a knife. He grabbed the boy's hand and forced it open, placing the knife firmly in his palm. The drums beat faster and faster, drowning everything out, the cheering of the crowd, the frantic screaming of the man tied to the pillar, the braying of a nearby donkey, louder, louder, faster, louder.
They stopped.
"...but will you kill for him?"
April, Year One
Professor Isaac Hayden, his job under threat from a combination of his own difficult-to-tolerate behaviour, and his lack of productive work, has a limited amount of time to come up with a practical application of his new branch of Aniotic Physics.
The investigation of the deaths of the parents of Octavian Germanicus has come to a finish, inconclusively. We can only assume that Octavian is distraught by this, and will do his utmost to hunt down the evil, psychopath who killed them. In secret, Octavian has begun to test his new Legionairre robot for combat. So far, the results have been excellent.
Gregore Angarine, better-known as al’Shamdli, a popular figure of Shah Abbas’ Khuri court, had an attempt on his life foiled by the presence of Mamluk, who killed the assassin as the man attempted to crawl in Angarine’s window at night. The Shah launched an investigation to discover the originator of the assassination order, and- greatly impressed by the brutal killing capabilities- has asked his close friend and advisor if he could build an army of such robots, combining al’Shamdli’s technical expertise and the Shahdom’s resources.
Ryan Amedeus continues his factory work, still constrained by his class, despite his massive talents. He has dedicated a large amount of time, as of late, to finding other sparks. He has come into contact with William Weir, and Railroad Baron Peter Williams.
Peter Williams has continued to make a killing in his railways. His work on the Steamhulk continues, it is now fitted with a ‘Megagun’, which fires explosive projectiles of horrifying strength.
Doctor Akira Light, a close friend of Lord Seichiro Yamamoto of Nihojon, has begun work on several agricultural tools, which would be of great use in the overharvested farmlands of his homeland. Secretly, he is developing armour with steam-enhancements, however, he is encountering great difficulties, namely that anyone inside such armour overheats at an alarmingly fast rate.
William Weir, a rich- though untitled- Scotan, has risen to prominence rather dramatically, for the invention of a Giant Walker, which he reputedly enjoys striding through towns in, his ‘sharp dressed man’, and several elabourate ideas he is attempting to pitch to parliament.
Jeremy Sieko, a rather odd and quiet clockworker known for his use of magnetic bearings and the development of the ‘tickless clock’ (which has, although raising interest, failed to make great profits), has recently revealed his ‘Dragonfly’, which may very well be the world’s first powered heavier-than-air flier. Although whether or not it is a flier can be debated, as it is incapable of ascent, or at least this is the case for the current model. At any rate, the Dragonfly sold for considerably more than his clocks, which are generally viewed as mere novelties.
Lord Gabriel Blacktyde, a rather dark character whose family made a fortune in trade and shipmaking, has begun work on a secret project in the navy drydocks. Following a series of rather gruesome abductions, the local population nearly up in arms. However, his nobility is a strong protection against anything the ‘peasants’ try.
Cid Hibiki, a Medlander (apparently of mixed Medland/Eastern descent), has set up a small business as a naval merchant, however, just recently, he has completed the first of what may revolutionize the future of trade. An ‘Airship’, a light wooden cargo hull (taken from a ship given to him by his parents, as a gift to their youngest son, who is unlikely to inherit anything else) lifted by a great bag of hydrogen, and driven by two steam-powered propellers. He is making a healthy profit shipping along difficult trade routes in central-European trade routes, and taking passengers on aerial voyages.
High Inquisitor Leonardo, better known as ‘father’ by those around him, has continued his twisted experiments on those he considers to be heathens or heretics, converting several Sitalan Yuwish villagers into ‘Inquisitors’ (much like his first successful attempt, Raul), replacing some of their limbs with weapons, and annihilating large parts of their brains with terrifying metal tools of ‘conversion’. With a small force, he is now headed southwards into the ‘Heathen Stronghold’ of Rabiyya.
Doctor Leopold Vermeulen, working to perfect Robert’s design, had his operations unexpectedly cut short. His thievery from the local villages had incited a mob to take up arms against him. Fearing for his life (but more importantly, growing annoyed with the Rabiyyan mountain cuisine), the Doctor quickly gathered his research, stuffed Boilerplate into Robert’s storage compartment along with some materials, and made his escape- directly through the center of the mob. Many were run over, menaced by spikes, or worse.
Not before cleaning all of the blood off of his getaway vehicle, Dr. Vermeulen encountered Father Leonardo on the Sitalan Border.
In International News, the young King Geoffrey I of Gallia has offered to be a patron for one or more of the 'Gifted'. This offer has been echoed by several nobles in Allemany, though there is not quite as much money and power behind their offers.
Map
Professor Isaac Hayden, his job under threat from a combination of his own difficult-to-tolerate behaviour, and his lack of productive work, has a limited amount of time to come up with a practical application of his new branch of Aniotic Physics.
The investigation of the deaths of the parents of Octavian Germanicus has come to a finish, inconclusively. We can only assume that Octavian is distraught by this, and will do his utmost to hunt down the evil, psychopath who killed them. In secret, Octavian has begun to test his new Legionairre robot for combat. So far, the results have been excellent.
Gregore Angarine, better-known as al’Shamdli, a popular figure of Shah Abbas’ Khuri court, had an attempt on his life foiled by the presence of Mamluk, who killed the assassin as the man attempted to crawl in Angarine’s window at night. The Shah launched an investigation to discover the originator of the assassination order, and- greatly impressed by the brutal killing capabilities- has asked his close friend and advisor if he could build an army of such robots, combining al’Shamdli’s technical expertise and the Shahdom’s resources.
Ryan Amedeus continues his factory work, still constrained by his class, despite his massive talents. He has dedicated a large amount of time, as of late, to finding other sparks. He has come into contact with William Weir, and Railroad Baron Peter Williams.
Peter Williams has continued to make a killing in his railways. His work on the Steamhulk continues, it is now fitted with a ‘Megagun’, which fires explosive projectiles of horrifying strength.
Doctor Akira Light, a close friend of Lord Seichiro Yamamoto of Nihojon, has begun work on several agricultural tools, which would be of great use in the overharvested farmlands of his homeland. Secretly, he is developing armour with steam-enhancements, however, he is encountering great difficulties, namely that anyone inside such armour overheats at an alarmingly fast rate.
William Weir, a rich- though untitled- Scotan, has risen to prominence rather dramatically, for the invention of a Giant Walker, which he reputedly enjoys striding through towns in, his ‘sharp dressed man’, and several elabourate ideas he is attempting to pitch to parliament.
Jeremy Sieko, a rather odd and quiet clockworker known for his use of magnetic bearings and the development of the ‘tickless clock’ (which has, although raising interest, failed to make great profits), has recently revealed his ‘Dragonfly’, which may very well be the world’s first powered heavier-than-air flier. Although whether or not it is a flier can be debated, as it is incapable of ascent, or at least this is the case for the current model. At any rate, the Dragonfly sold for considerably more than his clocks, which are generally viewed as mere novelties.
Lord Gabriel Blacktyde, a rather dark character whose family made a fortune in trade and shipmaking, has begun work on a secret project in the navy drydocks. Following a series of rather gruesome abductions, the local population nearly up in arms. However, his nobility is a strong protection against anything the ‘peasants’ try.
Cid Hibiki, a Medlander (apparently of mixed Medland/Eastern descent), has set up a small business as a naval merchant, however, just recently, he has completed the first of what may revolutionize the future of trade. An ‘Airship’, a light wooden cargo hull (taken from a ship given to him by his parents, as a gift to their youngest son, who is unlikely to inherit anything else) lifted by a great bag of hydrogen, and driven by two steam-powered propellers. He is making a healthy profit shipping along difficult trade routes in central-European trade routes, and taking passengers on aerial voyages.
High Inquisitor Leonardo, better known as ‘father’ by those around him, has continued his twisted experiments on those he considers to be heathens or heretics, converting several Sitalan Yuwish villagers into ‘Inquisitors’ (much like his first successful attempt, Raul), replacing some of their limbs with weapons, and annihilating large parts of their brains with terrifying metal tools of ‘conversion’. With a small force, he is now headed southwards into the ‘Heathen Stronghold’ of Rabiyya.
Doctor Leopold Vermeulen, working to perfect Robert’s design, had his operations unexpectedly cut short. His thievery from the local villages had incited a mob to take up arms against him. Fearing for his life (but more importantly, growing annoyed with the Rabiyyan mountain cuisine), the Doctor quickly gathered his research, stuffed Boilerplate into Robert’s storage compartment along with some materials, and made his escape- directly through the center of the mob. Many were run over, menaced by spikes, or worse.
Not before cleaning all of the blood off of his getaway vehicle, Dr. Vermeulen encountered Father Leonardo on the Sitalan Border.
In International News, the young King Geoffrey I of Gallia has offered to be a patron for one or more of the 'Gifted'. This offer has been echoed by several nobles in Allemany, though there is not quite as much money and power behind their offers.
Map
Fuschia
A Little Odd
Hooray for quick updates! Time to get to work on the Dragonfly Mark II, and a few other things...
e350tb
Stupendously Illogical Englishman
The Steamhulk fired, reducing the Scotian rebel stockade to rubble. As the Anglican army cleared off, thier General handed over a check, for several thousand punds.
"Most useful, this," Williams remarked, looking at the giant machine, "Although I doubt we'll have made many friends in Scotia."
The Steamhulk, now with heavier turret armour, hissed.
Suddenly, the men operating it jumped out, coughing and spluttering. One angrily aproached Williams.
"Do you now how much smoke that bloody gun creates?" he yelled, "You may have covinced the rest of those idiots that this monstrocity is the future, but you can't fool me!"
"Pity you had to say that," snarled Williams, as Bob slammed the man's head with and Iron Pole.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The men and women (yes, women) of Williams's force stood at attention outside the concrete lab as Williams walked out.
"You may want to consider your loyalties," he snarled, "Lest you want to end up like Private Jenkins."
There was a clanging noise, and a human sized steam robot exited the laboritory.
"Private Jenkins, atten-hut!"
The robot snapped into position without question.
"Stand at ease!"
The robot eased position.
"This, of course, is primative, and has a limited life span," Williams yelled, "But stick with me, and I can assure you that by the end of this decade you will live like Gods!"
"Most useful, this," Williams remarked, looking at the giant machine, "Although I doubt we'll have made many friends in Scotia."
The Steamhulk, now with heavier turret armour, hissed.
Suddenly, the men operating it jumped out, coughing and spluttering. One angrily aproached Williams.
"Do you now how much smoke that bloody gun creates?" he yelled, "You may have covinced the rest of those idiots that this monstrocity is the future, but you can't fool me!"
"Pity you had to say that," snarled Williams, as Bob slammed the man's head with and Iron Pole.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The men and women (yes, women) of Williams's force stood at attention outside the concrete lab as Williams walked out.
"You may want to consider your loyalties," he snarled, "Lest you want to end up like Private Jenkins."
There was a clanging noise, and a human sized steam robot exited the laboritory.
"Private Jenkins, atten-hut!"
The robot snapped into position without question.
"Stand at ease!"
The robot eased position.
"This, of course, is primative, and has a limited life span," Williams yelled, "But stick with me, and I can assure you that by the end of this decade you will live like Gods!"
Crezth
i knew you were a real man of the left
OOC: Absolutely brilliant, e350tb. Already the dark side of the force rears its ugly head. All applause from this end.
Another story incoming soon. I sense a meeting of the Anglican sparks on the horizon.
Another story incoming soon. I sense a meeting of the Anglican sparks on the horizon.
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
If I may ask, what is Pjolaka's standing military like? Humans or robots? Big or small? Organized or disorganized (all under the king's command or individual Nobles lead their own armies)?
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