Thanks
Something else to consider about Blitukus wielding heavy weapons: the game classifies him as 'Ultra-Mighty'.
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Blitukus kept limping his way away from town. Luckily, he had crashed near the regions border. Unluckily, he was running out of his borrowed time. He forced himself to continue, but was trailing blood, pale beneath his fur. He found himself light headed and feeling weak, the pain cutting into his concentration, and it was only getting worse.
Come on, just a little further!
He grunted, his mouth pressed shut due to pain. He felt himself becoming more light headed, but saw the regions border ahead, its magic barrier barely visible. Just a little further... He approached it, but found himself slowing further. He felt unable to continue as he stood one space from the border. He looked down. He was very pale under his fur, and blood was slowly pooling under him. He felt the pain and blood loss causing him to lose his consciousness.
No, not right here! I'm too close.
He felt himself collapsing, and directed his fall forward toward the barrier. He cought his fall and used the impact to make himself roll toward the barrier. Upon hitting the ground, his broken body twisted in ways it had never been meant to. He yelled out in pain, and nearly fell unconscious. He didn't lose consciousness though, he felt his senses returning, and the pain dull. He was glowing as the magic energies mended his bones and flesh, replenishing his blood. It was physically the best he had felt in a very long time. He lay, sprawled out, and laughed.
Bleeding to death one space away from the border is never an option!
He sat up and stood, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. His strength returned, and he felt his pulse strengthen. He stretched, then turned around. He marched back toward the town. There was still more goblin infantry... but now he was unarmed. He would have to find armament. He would also have to find a means of transit to get home. It was possible for him to hoof it, as he had learned from his mother how to sustain himself in the wilderness, but that would take an enormous amount of time. He kept marching up the hill until he reached the town. Then, he snuck along the back wall of one of the buildings. Magma was still sizzling, but goblin infantry, the little bit that was left, was marching around the streets. He snuck along the back of the buildings until he reached the northeast corner of the town, the area in which his second bomb fell. There were the ruined remains of 5 goblin flying machines, never having had the chance to lift off. He carefully navigated around the smoldering stone, looking through the melted wrecks for anything he could salvage. On the fourth attempt, he salvaged the mounted crossbow from the flying machine, and a handful of bolts to go with it. It was a standard iron crossbow. He ratcheted it back and loaded a bolt into it. Then, he snuck back behind the walls, looking around corners as he moved from building to building. Then, he snuck in between two of the buildings, walking through toward the street. He looked around the corner, and saw 4 goblin crossbowmen marching down the street away from him. He was standing next to the ruins of a bar, a hole in the back wall and the roof missing from it. He smiled, and aimed at the marching goblins. He targeted the center-right goblin, and fired, striking the goblin in the leg, causing the goblin to yell and fall to the ground. He whistled at the troops and waved at them, then ran back between the two buildings. The goblins yelled and chased. Two bolts struck the wall near Blitukus as he ran. Blitukus ran behind the bar, through the hole in the wall, up the stairs, and took position on the upper level, ratcheting the crossbow and loading another bolt. The goblins ran between the buildings, then stopped as they reached the back, unsure of where Blitukus went. Blitukus was above and behind them, aiming through a damaged portion of the bars wall. He fired, striking one of the goblins in the back of the head. The goblin gagged and fell to the ground as its brain was pierced. The remaining two goblins yelled in fury and ran towards the hole in the back of the bar. Blitukus quickly ratcheted the crossbow back and loaded another bolt. He fired from the balcony, striking one of the goblins in the arm, causing it to lose hold of its crossbow. The remaining goblin climbed the stairs. Blitukus pointed his empty crossbow at the goblin, and the goblin jumped in fear as it loosed its bolt. The bolt flew far above Blitukus, sailing into the distance.
Congratulations! You've earned the Worst Marksman award!
Blitukus grinned and ran at the goblin. The goblin turned to run away but before it could, Blitukus smacked it to the ground with the butt of his crossbow. Then, he repeatedly bashed the goblin in the head with his crossbow, making a rather bloody mess as the goblin yelled frantically in pain. Luckily for the goblin, it was only conscious for a short period. When Blitukus had finished bludgeoning the goblin to death, he turned to walk down the stairs. A bolt struck his leg, and he yelled, falling off the stairwell and grunting loudly as he landed. The goblin who he had shot in the arm was holding a crossbow with its good arm, one handed. The goblin frantically tried to reload the crossbow using one hand and its teeth, but Blitukus loaded his crossbow far faster. Blitukus pulled the bolt rapidly out of the shallow wound, it had not lodged firmly, and stood, shaking a bit. He walked up to the goblin, still frantically trying to reload its crossbow. He then knocked the goblin to the floor. The goblin tried to get up, but was sent back down as Blitukus loosed a bolt into the goblins head at point-blank range. He walked out the front of the bar, and loaded another bolt into his crossbow. He ran at the goblin that he had shot in the leg, and the goblin loosed a bolt despite being on the ground. Blitukus quickly jumped to his left, letting the bolt graze his right arm to little effect. He nearly fell due to his weakened leg, but kept going, stopping as he reached the goblin. The goblin grunted furiously and tried to drag itself into striking range. Blitukus looked down at the goblin, grinning, and spoke as he raised his crossbow to point into the goblins face, "That is a funny thing about enemies... sometimes they shoot back." Blitukus loosed his bolt. The bolt pierced into the goblins head, dislodging both eyes, and continuing through to poke the goblins throat out, lodging firmly in the wound. The goblin rolled over onto its back and yelled, falling unconscious due to pain as it bled out. Blitukus walked away along the front of the buildings, ratcheting his crossbow back and loading another bolt, leaving it lowered but ready. He heard a goblin marching in an alley between buildings, and ran towards that alley. The goblin exited the alley before Blitukus reached it, and they both skidded to a stop. They exchanged eye contact for a split second, and the scorching desert winds blew. The goblin drew his crossbow, but had failed to notice that Blitukus, like his mother, was perfectly agile. A bolt impaled itself in the goblins chest before the goblin could fully draw.
There was shouting from the other side of town. The last few goblins had gotten together, and were getting into position. A bolt whizzed between Blitukus' feet, sending a puff of dust into the air. Blitukus ran perpendicular to the line of fire, heading towards a pile of rubble to take cover behind. Two bolts whizzed by Blitukus, striking the dirt to his side. 3 goblins remained. Blitukus skidded to a stop, turning to face them, then sprinted the best he could in their direction. Blitukus lunged forward as they fired. He landed on the ground and rolled, a bolt grazing his back, becoming stuck in his clothes as he did so. At the end of the roll, he used his momentum to jump high into the air, quickly aiming and loosing a bolt midair as another bolt, falling below its intended target, struck Blitukus in the foot. His bolt struck one of the goblins in the neck. Blitukus yelled, and heard a definite 'CRUNCH' as he landed. He fell hard to the ground, the bolt wedged into the bones of his foot. 2 goblins remained. His foot was badly broken, but that would've been his lower body had he not jumped. Bolts flew over him and fell short as he dragged himself behind cover. He grunted and held his leg still. He ratcheted back his crossbow, and reached for another bolt as he pulled himself to nearly stand behind the rubble. Much to his horror... he found his hand was empty. He had no more bolts. The same second he had pulled himself up, the goblins fired again. One bolt grazed Blitikus' face, the other one piercing into Blitukus' lower body, puncturing his guts and kidneys. Blitukus froze in shock and horror, stumbled back and fell flat onto his back. The cold metal sapped heat from his flesh. He looked down, and saw the bolt protruding from his abdomen, firmly lodged in the bleeding wound. It hurt to an extreme, and Blitukus felt his consciousness leaving him. The goblins laughed, one of them yelling, "Let's twist the bolt until he bleeds to death!" It was a cold pain, a pain which his mother had experienced with her encounter with the goblin archer those years ago. It was a pain she had endured tenfold the night of the assassination. He would not succumb, his mother wasn't here to return that pain to these criminals, so he would have to do so in her absence...
A simple bolt will not exempt you from justice...
He growled deeply, and gripped the bolt. He yelled as he yanked it out from his abdomen, blood spilling out of the wound. He then took that very bolt, and loaded into his own already-ratcheted crossbow. The goblin rounded the corner, and jumped back. Blitukus fired, and the bloody bolt pierced through the goblins head, poking out both eyes and tearing through an ear. The goblin fell to the ground, blood leaking out of its gory eye sockets. Blitukus bunched up excess bits from his bloody clothes, and pressed them over the wound in his abdomen. He pulled the bolt out smoothly from his foot. At least that one hadn't lodged firmly. One bolt. One goblin remained. He ratcheted his crossbow back, and loaded the bolt in. The pain was still intense, and he found it difficult to aim at anything. Blitukus pulled himself up, slowly, shaking, and aimed over the rubble. There was one flyable goblin flying machine left, and the last goblin turned to run towards it. The goblin froze, and found itself unable to move. It faced Blitukus, and gritted its teeth together. Blitukus aimed. The goblin found itself hardly able to move, frozen in fear. It dropped its crossbow, lowered its head, pulled out a white flag, and started waving it. Blitukus fired anyway, and the goblin fell limply to the ground after the bolt pierced through the goblins brain. Blitukus grunted, and shut his eyes in pain, throwing the crossbow aside.
He lowered himself to the ground, and dragged himself to the alley near the last goblin. He dragged himself down the alley, to the goblin flying machine resting behind the building. On top of the pain, he felt sick as his guts slowly bled within. He vomited when he reached the flying machine. He slowly and carefully pulled himself into the cockpit of the flying machine. The controls sat a bit far from him, as the average goblin was a bit larger than the average kobold. Also, the chair was a bit on the narrow side compared to its depth. Blitukus ignored these details, and used trial and error to figure out the controls, and eventually figured out how to activate the boiler. This machine used perpetual fluid loops, but required a relatively large boiler to support its iron engines. He throttled the machine um, and engaged the transmission. The rotors spun, but the heavy iron blades took a while to get up to proper speed. The flying machine seemed to strain itself initially lifting off. Blitukus found it difficult to keep the single-rotor hovering machine balanced and steady, but he managed, despite the pain making it difficult to concentrate. The machine hovered in the direction it was tilted in, and Blitukus quickly became accustomed to flying it. He flew across the regions edge, and dropped the bloody wad of fabric as the barriers magic sealed his wounds, finally dimming the pain away. He had survived, barely, but his clothes were in blood soaked tatters. He turned around, and maneuvered the machine along the barrier, slowing and setting down near the wreckage of his old flying machine. He left the engine running as he walked over to the wreckage, detached the automatic crossbow from its mount, then stored the crossbow and its generator in the cockpit of the goblin flying machine. It was a tight fit, as the goblin flying machine had scant plating, but he managed to secure it. He abandoned the ruins and wreckage, hopping into the stolen goblin aircraft and flying away.
The flight was slow and tedious, but it gave Blitukus time to think. Goblins were a crude race, having barely discovered how to work iron. Where did they get these flying machines? He had faced some serious firepower... but he had not faced the super-weapon. The zeppelin was likely a secondary back-up for the super-weapon. How did these machines fly at all if the iron used was crude goblin iron? Wouldn't they fly apart? Blitukus took the butt of his automatic crossbow, and hit the side of the boiler with it. It didn't make a clang or a ping, but it made a stout, hardy 'CLUNGG'. This wasn't crude goblin iron. It was high quality dwarven iron. Why would the dwarves trust the goblins enough to support them? He sighed through his nose. The goblins were a mercenary force. The dwarves were the true criminals. He remembered how the orb of direction indicated his next objective lay within distant mountains. If not goblins, it must lay within a dwarven stronghold. This goblin flying machine was not a proper platform at all on which to mount an assault. He would need a new vehicle, but a second flying machine wouldn't do. They were dwarves, living within the mountain. They were nearly impervious to an air-strike. Blitukus left the scorching deserts and swamps, but was becoming exhausted as he flew over the more temperate areas. The machine was difficult to fly, and he couldn't afford to be drowsy while piloting it. He slowed, descended, and landed. He found a nearby pool of water, and drank from it. Then, he returned to the flying machine, lay across the cockpit, and let himself fall asleep right away. That day, he had a dream. Once again, he stood in front of a dwarven fortress, the sky blood red. The same iron beast finally emerged from the mouth of the fortress, searching for its next meal. Blitukus found the dream was different. He was of the same size as this iron beast, and his skin was made of steel. He strangled the iron beast, and broke its neck, throwing it to the side, then he stomped upon all of the little dwarves scrambling to and fro below. Bolts simply bounced off of his steel skin. He was invincible. When he woke up, he felt knowledge of a clue as to what he would build next. He needed a vehicle that would allow him to meet this superpower eye to eye. He needed to stand tall and have a steel exterior that would reflect away all damage. He needed the strength and toughness of steam and steel, directly, an extension of his own body. He sat back down in the pilots chair, and started the engines of the goblin flying machine once again. Shortly after, he lifted off and continued his journey home. He kept thinking about what possibly could allow such direct control over such force. He needed an armored vehicle, and it would have to travel over land, yet also it would need to be controlled directly. After a while of throwing away bad idea after bad idea, one idea stuck out among them all. It fit all of the criteria. Powered mobile armor, a machine with arms and legs that would function as extensions of his own. It would be him, plus the toughness of steel, the strength of steam, and a large boost in size. It was an entirely preposterous idea. Blitukus laughed at the thought of such a machine. It was far, far too complicated to ever work. Yet, it was the only idea that fit the criteria: the need for strong, thick armor and brute strength, yet also the need for all-terrain maneuverability and versatile, rapid motion. Alone, he satisfied the latter need, but not the former. A heavily armored, treaded vehicle would satisfy the former need, but not the latter. The powered armor was the only option that satisfied both. He spent the next several hours thinking about possible alternatives, and possible ways to build such a device. An optimist would say there were a hundred and one ways he could fail in building such a machine. But, he was now faced with dwarves, not the swift-footed goblins. Dwarven mountain halls stayed put. Blitukus smiled. If he failed a hundred and one times, and succeeded on the hundred and second attempt, the mountain halls would still be there for him to lay siege to. His mined buzzed with ideas on how to design the machine, and nearly every one of them wasn't acceptable. This one would take a while to develop.
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Topic: A Kobold's Quest II (Read 76121 times)