Yes, perhaps someday, an army of mechanized monsters will overtake all the archers of the world, and then make the bowman go the way of the dinosaur. Also, I apologize if the screencaps seem a little choppy: using MSPaint to crop them was far harder then last time for some odd reason, but I hope to get that kink fixed by next update.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQsLmySqotMTaking heed to the clerk's given directions, U.R.I.S.T took off after an hour of amusing the local children by letting them climb on it. It took care not to run over the farmlands, lest it lose its newly earned trust to these people who it was still sort of surprised didn't brand it as an iron demon or something equally fearful. Moving at a pace many times in excess of a mere man's, U.R.I.S.T knew that it would be capable of reaching the bandit camp and back within the span of a day, and so took the time to focus on its route and not deviate too much. Multiple hours passed, and its inner compass pointed in such a manner that it could no longer follow the roads, ordering it to move into the wilderness and back into the Awe-Inspiring Prairie. After passing over a hill with some difficulty, the machine made contact with a group of small rabbits who ran away from the ruckus as U.R.I.S.T passed through them. Such creatures did not invoke its ire upon them, and such were not worth being baptized with lead, or energy, or any of the tank's on-board projectiles.
U.R.I.S.T continued westward, coming in on a particularly forested area of the plain and into a herd of wild hogs. Most of them scattered upon hearing the noise of its engine roaring, but one, a particularly large crimson boar, most likely the leader of the group, charged at the metal beast with its tusks in full embrace, kicking it in the thread with a hard, dense hoof.
Unfortunately for the boar, U.R.I.S.T was not in the mood for such games, and it pressed on moving west, running over the beast and crushing it with the weight of its body. The beast briefly squealed as a loud crunching noise sounded from its bones being snapped, followed by a rich gush of crimson covering U.R.I.S.T's tracks. The first of the blood of many.
Blood trailed for a few more yards as U.R.I.S.T continued on its path, until finally the tank had discovered a fire burning in the distance. Moving in closer, the bellowing of smoke coming from its own exhaust had already alerted the bandits long before, and a single man wielding a pike stood in front of the vehicle in feeble defiance, fear visible on his face as he meekly tried to look menacing in front of U.R.I.S.T's figure, shivering as he brandished the spear. His features were withered, his hair gray, revealing him to be an old man with many years under his belt, yet nothing in his world could have prepared him for an encounter with a fully armed and armoured war machine.
U.R.I.S.T focused on him. Though he was no archer, the man had undoubtedly sold his people out to work for one, perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of greed. Whichever it was, U.R.I.S.T knew that he was beyond the point of saving, and doubted that it could do anything to sway his point of view anyways, possessing no means to communicate with him directly other then through force.
A single salvo of scattering shot was all that was needed. The pikeman took the brunt of the blow, leaving him bloodied and beaten, his elderly form unable to cope with being struck by the round. He collapsed onto the ground, dropping his weapon, his fighting days over after what was perhaps many decades. U.R.I.S.T ran through him in an attempt to finish the job, ramming him with such force as to send him flying a few feel outward, but it was then, all of a sudden, that the nemesis it was looking for finally made his presence known.
A silver crossbow bolt soared in the air, striking U.R.I.S.T with such precision as to fly right into the tank's vision slit, making a large mark on the plate of metal and deforming the slit somewhat. The iron monster, now seething in rage immediately turned its attention to the north west area where it came from, roaring with its engine as the perpetrator came into view.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jsDHocGBG4The man was muscled, but lanky. He was garbed in a shabby outfit consisting of rough-shewn leather armour strapped over rags. His left eye was missing, covered by a leather band fashioned as a crude eye-patch. Though he had struck with the deadly accuracy known to kill off seasoned adventurers with little effort, visible surprise was evident in his face as his rival closed in on him, not even flinching from a direct hit. U.R.I.S.T positioned its cannon, the sound of its turret moving a hydraulic whine, focusing on the ender of doubtlessly numerous lives with a boiling, fuming hatred. The arbalist fired another shot, this time putting a hole in U.R.I.S.T's rusted ball mount, the thin iron plating long having been worn out to the point of sub-usefulness in deflecting such a type of blow.
Deciding that such a target was worth no mercy against, U.R.I.S.T fired a high-explosive round from its tubular maw, engulfing the bandit and the area around him in flame. The man screamed an unearthly scream as his body became a smoldering blaze, resembling a demon from the depths of hell itself, yet he held onto his crossbow still. It was at this point that the original target of U.R.I.S.T's mission, the man known as Ather Letterembrace, challenged the iron creature before him, brandishing a whip with a confidence that puzzled U.R.I.S.T.
He had said those words half-hardheartedly, as he realized that his uttering of those words not only gave his position away, but gave him the full attention of the tank as U.R.I.S.T rotated its turret away from its dying target and pointed at him with the machine gun, unceremoniously cutting him down with a hail of lead.
An axeman leaped right beside U.R.I.S.T and attempted to ambush it by hacking at its machine gun, but the axe simply bounced off the barrel and flew out of his hand. U.R.I.S.T responded by crushing him under its tracks, embedding him into the ground with such a speed that he had little time to scream in pain.
Just as the tank prepared to leave the scene, another silver bolt flew from the nearby inferno, striking at its exposed back armour and punching a hole through the exhaust pipe, immediately garnering U.R.I.S.T's attention as it turned its turret to face the blazing mass. A faint figure could be seen standing within the blaze, readying another shot. Though burning and dying he may be, the crossbowman was determined not to go down without a long, grueling duel, a duel which U.R.I.S.T was only too happy to accept.
Repositioning itself, U.R.I.S.T prepared for a headlong charge into the fire, and with a mighty roar, rammed at a pace little over twenty miles per hour as it kicked up dirt, twigs and plants to close the distance between it and its burning, now hellish assailant.
The collision knocked the burning arbalist out of the blaze, his shattered body dropping the crossbow it had so tightly grasped since his hands first came in contact with it, skipping along the ground like a demonic coal in a lake. Now utterly bested, the man stood up one last time, roaring defiantly as if he really were a demon, only cut off when U.R.I.S.T rammed him once more, this time causing his skull to explode in a hail of burning organic matter.
The grizzly deed was done, and by then the man's companions had all succumbed to their injuries and passed silently, their weapons no longer in the hands of traitors. U.R.I.S.T just stood there for a moment, taking in everything that had just transpired as well as assessing its injuries.
Indeed, though a tank it was, U.R.I.S.T was only constructed out of thin unhardened iron, iron which was already brittle from standing exposed for a long, unremembered time. Why this was such the case was something that U.R.I.S.T struggled to, but couldn't remember. It remained oblivious to its origins, something which troubled it somewhat, but the trouble was little in comparison to the joy it received from hunting its first archer.
U.R.I.S.T Mark ITitle:
Class: War Machine
Armour Class: Iron
Armour Thickness: 2
Speed: 1828
Turret: OKHull: x1 Puncture, Back (Torn Open)Left Thread: OKRight Tread: OKLeft Gearbox: OKRight Gearbox: OKVision Slit: x1 Puncture (Torn Open, Vision Somewhat Impaired)Machine Gun: x1 Puncture, Ball Mount (Torn Open)Abilities:
Main Cannon:Flower GunDesc: Fires a highly volatile orb of power at the target, setting the area it lands on ablaze. Effective against dodgy foes, or massed targets.
Range: 15
Hits: 1*
Cooldown Period: Medium
*The fireball takes up a 9x9 space where it lands.
Five Rounds RapidDesc: Fires a long-ranged pulse of energy capable of hitting up to five targets.
Range: 20
Hits: 5
Cooldown Period: None
Machine Gun:Machine Gun (Basic)Desc: Rapidly fires a barrage of lead at the target, hitting them several times with armour-piercing bullets. Useful against armoured foes.
Range: 10
Hits: 9
Cooldown Period: Medium-Long
Spell Cards: N/A
Introduction:
"Bandit Points", or BP, are points granted from ridding the world from bandits and other criminals, whether bowman or otherwise. Any hostile armed humanoid counts, and the point gains are as follows:
1 Point: Bandits armed with melee weapons and/or blowguns.
2 Points: Bandit Leaders, such as an Overseer or Warlord, armed with a melee weapon, or archers, whether they be armed with a bow or crossbow.
4 Points: Bandit Leaders armed with a Bow or Crossbow.
The purpose of bandit points shall be elaborated on later, but for now I shall tell you that they involve giving U.R.I.S.T some way of "leveling up" despite the fact that it can't learn or use any weapons or armour in a traditional manner.
Total BP: 6
Archer Leaders (Warlords, Overseers, Ect.) Killed: 0
Bandit Archers Killed: 1
Other Leaders Killed: 1
Other Bandits Killed: 2
Poll
6 (22.2%)
Author
Topic: U.R.I.S.T Mk I: A Story of a Tank Whose Goal is to Kill All Archers, No Really (Read 4804 times)