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These forums have seen a LOT of activity lately.
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Blitukus inspected the flying machine one more time, closing all of the open panels. He then went back to bring some food with for the journey. Be moved enough to tide him over for the journey, and brought the world map. But, much to his surprise, he found another unwelcome guest in his home. This guest was not happy about the debris falling into its home.
A giant bat has sprung from ambush!
This enormous creature, the likes of which he based the wings of his flying machine on, screeched at Blitukus, full of complaint and anger. He drew his pick as it walked in, and he decided to attack preemptively. He slipped as he charged, and fell over under it. It pinned him. This was not an injured one, like the last. This one could easily kill him. It screeched in his face, and snapped at his neck, but he blocked it with the handle of his pickaxe, and missed as he struck at it. This did allow him to free himself though. It snapped at him again and again. He rolled out of the way of some of it, blocking the majority with his pick.
I think it likes me!
Blitukus brought his pickaxe forward, impaling the side of its chest. It jumped back and squeaked franticly in pain.
Blitukus got up, but with its last remaining strength, the giant bat sank its fangs into Blitukus' leg, pulling him to the ground. He yelled, and was stunned, but continued to attack the now unconscious beast. He split the beasts head open and scattered its brains about. He grunted and removed the beasts fangs from his legs. He retreated to rest a bit, took a drink, then went back to rest and tend to his wounds. He wouldn't be able to pilot well with a torn up leg.
Looks like the flight has been delayed...
Then, he saw the dead beast, a beast more than capable of tearing his throat out and sucking him dry, its brains scattered about, a pool of blood around it. That's what would happen to the ones who killed his mother. He displayed a menacing grin and laughed at the thought. Tearing his enemies up with such bloody results was a large relief from his sadness.
He took joy in slaughter lately.
It wasn't very long before the bleeding stopped and the pain had dulled. He then got up, and cleaned up the bloody mess that was all over his floor and walls. Then, he lugged the heavy giant bat corpse down to the chasm, and defiantly chucked it in.
You can have it back!
Still though, that very well could've been the end of him. Drachas experiments kept getting into his home, and it was time to stop that. He walked up the tunnel and out. He brought some coal dust with. On the rock surface outside, he wrote, "Your escaped projects have had 2 chances to kill me so far. Am I your guinea pig? Fix your containment or I'll fix it for you." He grunted as he finished. She may be a friend of his but he couldn't tolerate her mistakes getting him into potentially lethal trouble. He was still alive, and he had a goal to reach. He felt his mood change as he walked back to his flying machine, and smiled.
He eagerly hopped in the cockpit. He pressurized the steam chambers, and once again, pressed the regulator forward. Both engines responded properly, and expelled a light grey steam. He backed up a bit, moved it forward a bit, backed the flying machine up once more, and finally managed to get the crooked machine out of the storage. He pressed the regulator fully forward, and once again, the machine flew. It slowly drifted up. He let it climb to a safe altitude, nosed it down, rotated the engines back, and inverted the blades. This time he had let it climb higher, so it easily transfered to horizontal flight. Then, he turned to fly south. He let the turbines catch the air, and the engines roared to their full potential. He then noticed that, unlike at slow speeds, the aircraft had a tendency to fly level when the turbines were on, and would balance its pitch at a certain altitude for a given power level. He moved the regulator close to fully forward, but not quite. He let the aircraft drift upwards on its own. It drifted upwards above the clouds, slowed its ascent, dipped back slightly into the clouds, and kept ascending and dipping back, each time a smaller change, until it was flying straight and level all on its own, slightly above the clouds. He was very hungry, and ate one of the plump helmets, nearly losing the spores to the wind, but managing to put them back under the seat. He smiled. The aircraft seemed to fly itself. He thought, soaring across the continents, relaxing as a flying machine carried you above the clouds at high speed... it was the way of the future. He smiled once more at his achievements. He found that unlike his first encounter with a giant bat, he was not disturbed or shaken by the encounter. Perhaps spending two years on a glacier had toughened him. He looked out across the vast landscape, letting his mind wander, as he barely had to do anything to keep the aircraft on course.
He flew south, passing over glacier, tundra, snowy mountain that towered into the clouds, frigid plains, and eventually found himself drifting over that foreign civilization he passed through so long ago. He looked down at the towns, and waved as he passed overhead. He passed over a large town, and the sight of the flying machine made them panic and retreat into their homes. Blitukus snickered. He flew over another large town. This time they gathered outside, and shouted and cheered, obviously highly impressed with the technological wonder they were witnessing. Blitukus smiled proudly. He passed over more mountains, and turned to fly southward. Below, the frigid plains passed, revealing temperate swamps and forests ahead. He straddled the mountain as he went south. The temperate forests gave way to the warm swamps, plains, and deserts. A desert lined the mountain, and he saw the little speck of the entrance to a dwarven fortress-gone-goblin-lair. The warm plains gave way to scorching deserts and swamps. The swamps that his mother had bravely adventured through... those many, many years ago. The ruins were devoid of all undead, finally at peace. The famous dwarven failed experiment was marked by a solidified lava flow, the scorched workshop ruins barely visible anymore. He looked down, and saw the edge of the world, the rivers that she had walked by. He saw the north-most town... the very first town she had visited. He remembered her stories of how she had hypnotized the merchant there, saw true oppression for the first time there.... so long ago. He was back in his kingdom, Anthath Sizet. He had taken several days to leave for his glacial home, and had completed the return trip in just under 4 hours. He sighed, but as he approached the town, something else cought his eye. Something was very wrong. Those buildings were all the wrong color. There was no activity in the town. The land around it was scorched. What had happened in the 2 years he had been absent?
He felt a sense of dread. The town looked like a war zone, and the buildings were ruined. For miles around, the land was scorched, much of the swamps having been engulfed in what looked like what once was an enormous brush fire. He continued south, over the swamp, and crossing the boundary into the desert. He approached the capital, resting on a flattened hill, a dirt path spiraling from the base of the hill to the top. It was the site of the final encounter, the death of the tyrant. It was the site of the final fate of his mother. She offered them warm water, they returned the offer with a hail of bolts. Blitukus felt a sense of deep anger rising in him. He slowed the aircraft, and reverted the engines back to facing upright, inverting the blades. The aircraft slowed, and he slowly set it down in the center of the capital, and hopped out, not waiting for the blades to stop spinning. He walked forward two steps, and froze. The buildings were scorched, all in ruins. No roof was left standing, and less than half of the walls were left standing. The castle was a wreck, and the stones seemed to have been... melted? All around lay dead bodies, the bodies of kobolds, the bodies of humans... the bodies of goblins. whatever happened, no building was left untouched, and there were no survivors. Anthath Sizet had been wiped off the map, the once prosperous towns reduced to ruins. He looked at the corpses. They were not cut apart, they were not bashed in, there were no bolt woulds to be seen. They were covered in energy burns. All around, the land and buildings were scorched, metal and stone melted. A new weapon has been unveiled here. He looked ahead, and several goblin bodies were seen near the charred wreck of a primitive flying machine. It was as if hell itself had swept through. The goblins were barely becoming competitive in technology... where did they get these flying machines, these weapons of total annihilation? They were not the only party involved. Blitukus realized... the assassination, the invasion, weapons never before seen... there had been a conspiracy all along to annihilate Anthath Sizet. By fleeing, he had been overlooked, and was the sole survivor. He took his goggles off, to allow his tears to reach the ground freely. He wiped his face , and walked behind the castle. From the charred remains of a bush, he picked a flower. In the graves near the castle, he approached his mothers tomb. She had received a heros funeral. He stood among the wreckage, yet her tomb remained remarkably untouched. He let the flower drop at the front of the tomb, and he shut his eyes, a tear falling to the surface. He remembered his mother, his childhood, all the years of peace, liberty and prosperity. He remembered all the time he had spent with his mother, with the people, the glory of it all, on all levels. He opened his eyes. Now he stood here, wreckage all around, his mother long gone, his empire in ruins, alone. Yet, he still stood. He looked beyond the tomb to the horizon, then turned and walked back into the town. He walked up to the somewhat damaged statue of Fale in the middle of town. Despite the damage, the statue still seemed to retain an expression of her character. He walked up to the statue, and stood.
He couldn't manage to hold back tears as he looked at the statue. He spoke, barely audible, "You will be avenged." He walked back toward his flying machine.
Spring has arrived!
He checked his timepiece. It was Granite 1, 1082. The second anniversary of the assassination.
He clenched a fist so tight his claws dug into his palm and made it bleed slightly. He stopped and opened his hand, watching as a small drop of blood slowly gathered and slid down, falling to the ground.
You will all be avenged. As long as I stand, Anthath Sizet has not fallen, even if it has a population of one... Those who organized my mothers murder, the murder of these thousands... you, and all around you will pay dearly.
He reached his flying machine, and looked at it. Then, he wore his goggles once more. He felt anger rising in him like an inferno.
Super-weapons? You have no idea who you're dealing with. Your days are numbered. May your last days be the worst days of your lives.
He walked to a building, and picked up a burned, tattered, Anthath Sizet flag from the ground before it. He then took the flag back to his flying machine, and mounted it on the tail. He was against a force powerful enough to annihilate an entire civilization. He promised himself he would turn this foul, perversion of magic or technology that was this super-weapon into the worlds most expensive fireworks display, and return flaming death to those who operated it. He needed a weapon of his own to do this. The flame of vengeful anger permeated his soul, and he found himself grinning, a menacing grin he had inherited from his mother. He would have his vengeance.
He pulled himself back into the cockpit, and gazed into the controls. His mothers foes met a death at the end of a blade. Blitukus' foes would not have that honor. He decided they didn't deserve a personal battle. They never fought one. He wouldn't make a sword to strike them down with... they would do away with him easily anyway if he were to try. He would have to develop large weapons of his own, and his flying machine was an ideal platform to mount them on. He started the engines once more, and throttled up, letting the flying machine take to the skies. Never before had he felt so driven to fight. He had not even considered what types of weapon he would need to be able to retaliate. It was evident he was faced with a true superpower. He began to think of what he could do, but realized he had gained sufficient altitude, and once again, set the craft into horizontal motion, swooping down as he picked up speed. He ascended, leaving the capital behind, returning north. He realized, that was no longer the capital. His home was the capital, and contained the empires entire populace, a populace of one. He was no longer just a kobold, Blitukus Siegedriven of Anthath Sizet. He was Anthath Sizet, and Anthath Sizet had a legacy for maintaining liberty and justice. Anthath Sizet, Blitukus Siegedriven, would bring justice against those who had committed these evils. For what it mattered, he then, by definition, literally had the resources of an empire to accomplish this. He laughed at the thought. But... his laughter faded. He was still up against a fully functional superpower, and he needed weapons. What would he build?
As his aircraft continued north, he thought, and thought some more. He needed ranged weaponry, without a doubt. A simple crossbow wouldn't cut it, and a ballista was far too large to mount on a flying machine, on top of only having one shot. Maybe he could use his steam to enhance his firepower? He thought about it. He toyed with the idea of a steam driven cannon, and tossed it out. He thought of a pressure-driven gun, but found it wouldn't be the best idea. Then, thinking about mechanisms and how he nearly got a wire cought on a gear putting the flying machine together, an idea came to his mind that he realized was something truly nobody has tried before. A steam driven piston mounted on a crossbow. When the crossbow was fired, it could trigger a valve to open, forcing the piston to extend, drawing the wire back. As the wire was fully brought back, a spring would latch it behind the trigger, and the piston would pull back as the valve was shut, leaving the string ready to fire. Then, another bolt could be readied. He thought about it. Potentially it could get one shot off every two seconds. Rather impressive, but still not good enough. He realized, a piston could cycle several times within the same second if fed steam at a high enough pressure. He then realized, the motion of the piston could also be used to ratchet a bolt out of a cartridge, placing the bolt as the piston retracts. This would allow the weapon to cycle as fast as the piston, meaning, in theory, a fire rate of several bolts per second. He snickered and grinned at the thought of mowing down the murderers with such a weapon. Such a weapon would eat through bolts rapidly, and he would have to forge and bring a lot of them. It would be good for dispersing other flying machines, and spraying death onto targets below, but for larger ground targets, it wouldn't do. He needed something larger for those. He spent a while perfecting and taking note of the detail in the design for the Automatic Crossbow, but when he finished resolving his plan, he moved on to the next task. He needed something to demolish buildings and siege engines with. He thought about it, and after a while of thinking, came up with an idea that was worthy of developing. The air was once more becoming rather chilly as he flew northward. He thought about it, a way to spread magma everywhere. With one of his steam generators rigged to actually produce magma, he could build a device that would hold magma within, and would build up more and more pressure, near the failure point of steel. The entire device could then be released, and upon impact with the ground, would buckle, exploding, sending magma everywhere, leaving puddles of raw fire streaming through his foes strongholds.
I'll rain down hells fire... literally! "How to make Barbecue Goblin in 2 simple steps!"
Once again he snickered at the thought. His grin faded, but he maintained a smile. He would fly in with a rapid-firing crossbow and canisters of hells fire, pressurized and concentrated. An impressive loadout... but still mere fireworks compared to the super-weapon that he faced. He knew he would be charging into this, facing the strongholds of an evil empire, with little more than his skill and a few gadgets at his side. Either he would win against all odds, and proceed to build his way to his mother, a story of victory to share, or he would die trying, an honorable death that would result in his meeting his mother again anyway... unless of course this warfare business landed him down below.
... and not even that would stop me from reaching heaven, even if I had to raise hell and bring down heaven as nothing but a determined soul.
He reviewed his plans as he found himself flying over tundra and eventually through the familiar bitter cold of the glacier. He slowed the craft as he soared over the glacier. He switched to vertical flight, and the craft slowed further. He landed by the storage and let the craft taxi in before shutting down the engines and powering down the generators. He was home. It was a hole in the ground for those who would merely pass by, but he would do his best to use the resources within to turn his steel wings into the steel dragon that would strike down the demonic machines that annihilated his comrades. At the very least, he would try.
[ October 31, 2007: Message edited by: AlanL ]
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Topic: A Kobold's Quest II (Read 76117 times)