Technocratic Republics
06-04-2006, 05:26
"Shoot it, damn it, shoot it now!" Yelled Kholn, a particularly well-armoured Dragon Hunter who had lost an eye in the past, as he saw death flying toward him at an alarming speed, and breathing a huge wave of fire.
"Coming, coming!" Shouted back his companion, Melnon, a short dwarf in charge of the weaponry "This cannon always gets stuck in the worst possible mom..."
He suddenly paused as the long barrel of the weapon vomited a blinding beam of white-blue energy, which almost instantly traveled the three hundred feet that separated them from the dragon. With impeccable aiming, the beam struck right into the flying lizard's belly, emerging from its back along with a cloud of charred flesh and vaporized blood. The dragon flapped its wings spasmodically once, and with a long, horrifying moan fell quickly toward the rocky grounds below, smashing hard against it and raising a large cloud of brownish dust.
From behind the worn-but-powerful cannon -dubbed "The Butter Knife", for its impressive flesh-cutting effects-, Melnon, along with three other hunters, popped their heads up, with a mixture of success and still-lingering fear in their faces.
"We did it! We killed a dragon!" One of them exploded.
But Kholn did not see as happy. Without bothering to turn his only eye to the young human, he kept looking at the horizon "Save it for later, you idiot. That was just a whelp. The real thing wouldn't have got a scratch from your flashlight"
Melnon seemed offended "Flashlight? This is cutting-edge beam weapon technology, the latest thing created back at the Fatherland!"
Kholn grumbled "That bonebag was as small as they get, and you four start celebrating already? You can't kill a real dragon with technology; it requires something else, which I somehow doubt you rookies have. Besides, I am sure your flashlight requires repairing, supplies, and all that kind of stuff machines need. As we are so damn far away from the shiny glass buildings you call home, how the blazes do you expect to get all that?"
The four newbies hesitated for a moment; they knew the dwarf was right, at least on the "far away from home and not getting any supplies" part; unlike him, however, they thought that technology was what they needed to kill the thing. Yet, somehow, dragon killers like Kholn had done it in the past without even using an infopad!
They were all interrupted by a roar so deep, that they weren't sure if it was the ground itself that growled. The flapping sound of something the size of a stadium quickly revealed the correct answer.
In the blink of an eye, a massive, reptilian head emerged from behind the hills, black smoke pouring from its huge nostrils, all covered in thick scales of a metallic red colour.
Kholn would have told them all to duck and hide, but he didn't live long enough. In less than a couple of seconds, an entire career of almost two hundred years of dragon hunting disappeared in a sea of searing fire and ash, leaving not even a calcined body which to bury with honours. No. The dragon's breath emerged as a volcanic flatulency that tore skin, flesh, bone, and soul away so fast, that the five hunters did not even manage to feel pain. Perhaps that was a good thing. Kholn had seen dragons doing very painful things to some of his friends. Ah, but Kholn was no more to think on that. Only a small black stain in the glassed rock below was left from Kholn and the four new hunters.
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Things were always hard here at the Eastern Shattering; lying thousands of miles away from the safe shores of Sisgardia, this was an unforgiving, burnt out land of endless deserts, howling canyons, and brutal coasts. Once a hiding place for countless mage cabals, demon cults, and a wide paraphernalia of heathen things, the Eastern Shattering has always been an unfathomable lands that, somehow, has managed to remain at the brink of science and development, a wild place where little civilization is left, and where technology, so prevailing in the lands to the west, has never been able to encroach.
Some say that no one has truly taken the time to occupy the area; but those who have set foot here know that the reasons are way more obscure than that. When you face for the first time some of the entities that wander in this place, what you really wonder is not "why technology isn't here", but "why would anyone want to remain here".
But that was what the Knights of the Foul Wind were supposed to do, "stay here". Since times immemorial, this order has been imposed with the seemingly impossible task of keeping everyone, from either side, from crossing the boundary called the "Glistering Wall", perhaps because in the past it was covered in shiny metal; right now it stands as a massively monolithic barrier hundreds of mile long, with crumbling parts and others that really seem more like natural mountains than a man-made thing. Still, it does serve as an effective barrier, at least as long as it is guarded. And the Knights of the Foul Wind have done this for as long as anyone can remember, oblivious to the changes back in the civilized world, that have seen nations rise and fall. The Knights just keep doing their task. At this point, anyway, its the only thing they know how to do well. That, and watching mad newcomers get devoured by some nameless aberration after their fist step into the badlands. Treasure, glory, fame, bah. They come seeking that, and all they find is death, many times in a row.
And now it seems yet another ship comes carrying fresh flesh. Unlike the ships stationed in the local piers, this one has no wooden decks or flapping sails; in fact, it really looks like a big box made of metal that moves faster than any ship should. "Western Machines" is what they call them, bizarre contraptions that all the crazy people from the other side of the sea craft in amounts way too large to be a sane thing. Or so they have heard. The Knights are happy enough with their campfire-cooked meals and trusted steel swords. They have been unable to figure out how do those "pistol" things work.
With strange things arising since the great dragon Thalmirgaaz was brought back from its eon-long slumber, there seems to be more stupidly bold ones ready to get killed. As long as they keep the heathen ones at bay, though...
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//OOC: Very well, here is the idea: This is a character-based RP, in which the characters are supposed to be sorts of "fortune seekers", "adventure lovers", "risky archaeologists", and anything of the like, who come from the highly developed lands of "Beyond the Sea", into this strange world of wicked magic and nameless beasts that has remained away from everything for too long.
The characters are encouraged to have mixtures of Future-Tech and Fantasy, but you may very well use one leaning or completely centred on one of the two (like a mechanologically enhanced human or an elf priest of random god X).
What say you?
"Coming, coming!" Shouted back his companion, Melnon, a short dwarf in charge of the weaponry "This cannon always gets stuck in the worst possible mom..."
He suddenly paused as the long barrel of the weapon vomited a blinding beam of white-blue energy, which almost instantly traveled the three hundred feet that separated them from the dragon. With impeccable aiming, the beam struck right into the flying lizard's belly, emerging from its back along with a cloud of charred flesh and vaporized blood. The dragon flapped its wings spasmodically once, and with a long, horrifying moan fell quickly toward the rocky grounds below, smashing hard against it and raising a large cloud of brownish dust.
From behind the worn-but-powerful cannon -dubbed "The Butter Knife", for its impressive flesh-cutting effects-, Melnon, along with three other hunters, popped their heads up, with a mixture of success and still-lingering fear in their faces.
"We did it! We killed a dragon!" One of them exploded.
But Kholn did not see as happy. Without bothering to turn his only eye to the young human, he kept looking at the horizon "Save it for later, you idiot. That was just a whelp. The real thing wouldn't have got a scratch from your flashlight"
Melnon seemed offended "Flashlight? This is cutting-edge beam weapon technology, the latest thing created back at the Fatherland!"
Kholn grumbled "That bonebag was as small as they get, and you four start celebrating already? You can't kill a real dragon with technology; it requires something else, which I somehow doubt you rookies have. Besides, I am sure your flashlight requires repairing, supplies, and all that kind of stuff machines need. As we are so damn far away from the shiny glass buildings you call home, how the blazes do you expect to get all that?"
The four newbies hesitated for a moment; they knew the dwarf was right, at least on the "far away from home and not getting any supplies" part; unlike him, however, they thought that technology was what they needed to kill the thing. Yet, somehow, dragon killers like Kholn had done it in the past without even using an infopad!
They were all interrupted by a roar so deep, that they weren't sure if it was the ground itself that growled. The flapping sound of something the size of a stadium quickly revealed the correct answer.
In the blink of an eye, a massive, reptilian head emerged from behind the hills, black smoke pouring from its huge nostrils, all covered in thick scales of a metallic red colour.
Kholn would have told them all to duck and hide, but he didn't live long enough. In less than a couple of seconds, an entire career of almost two hundred years of dragon hunting disappeared in a sea of searing fire and ash, leaving not even a calcined body which to bury with honours. No. The dragon's breath emerged as a volcanic flatulency that tore skin, flesh, bone, and soul away so fast, that the five hunters did not even manage to feel pain. Perhaps that was a good thing. Kholn had seen dragons doing very painful things to some of his friends. Ah, but Kholn was no more to think on that. Only a small black stain in the glassed rock below was left from Kholn and the four new hunters.
-------------------------------------------------------
Things were always hard here at the Eastern Shattering; lying thousands of miles away from the safe shores of Sisgardia, this was an unforgiving, burnt out land of endless deserts, howling canyons, and brutal coasts. Once a hiding place for countless mage cabals, demon cults, and a wide paraphernalia of heathen things, the Eastern Shattering has always been an unfathomable lands that, somehow, has managed to remain at the brink of science and development, a wild place where little civilization is left, and where technology, so prevailing in the lands to the west, has never been able to encroach.
Some say that no one has truly taken the time to occupy the area; but those who have set foot here know that the reasons are way more obscure than that. When you face for the first time some of the entities that wander in this place, what you really wonder is not "why technology isn't here", but "why would anyone want to remain here".
But that was what the Knights of the Foul Wind were supposed to do, "stay here". Since times immemorial, this order has been imposed with the seemingly impossible task of keeping everyone, from either side, from crossing the boundary called the "Glistering Wall", perhaps because in the past it was covered in shiny metal; right now it stands as a massively monolithic barrier hundreds of mile long, with crumbling parts and others that really seem more like natural mountains than a man-made thing. Still, it does serve as an effective barrier, at least as long as it is guarded. And the Knights of the Foul Wind have done this for as long as anyone can remember, oblivious to the changes back in the civilized world, that have seen nations rise and fall. The Knights just keep doing their task. At this point, anyway, its the only thing they know how to do well. That, and watching mad newcomers get devoured by some nameless aberration after their fist step into the badlands. Treasure, glory, fame, bah. They come seeking that, and all they find is death, many times in a row.
And now it seems yet another ship comes carrying fresh flesh. Unlike the ships stationed in the local piers, this one has no wooden decks or flapping sails; in fact, it really looks like a big box made of metal that moves faster than any ship should. "Western Machines" is what they call them, bizarre contraptions that all the crazy people from the other side of the sea craft in amounts way too large to be a sane thing. Or so they have heard. The Knights are happy enough with their campfire-cooked meals and trusted steel swords. They have been unable to figure out how do those "pistol" things work.
With strange things arising since the great dragon Thalmirgaaz was brought back from its eon-long slumber, there seems to be more stupidly bold ones ready to get killed. As long as they keep the heathen ones at bay, though...
----------------------------------------------
//OOC: Very well, here is the idea: This is a character-based RP, in which the characters are supposed to be sorts of "fortune seekers", "adventure lovers", "risky archaeologists", and anything of the like, who come from the highly developed lands of "Beyond the Sea", into this strange world of wicked magic and nameless beasts that has remained away from everything for too long.
The characters are encouraged to have mixtures of Future-Tech and Fantasy, but you may very well use one leaning or completely centred on one of the two (like a mechanologically enhanced human or an elf priest of random god X).
What say you?