Dargon. (Original Fantasy)
- Thread starter Erithemaeus
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
... I kinda, sorta forgot that this was supposed to be the end of the arc. Woops.
So! I know that this might be late, but I'm now gonna poll for interludes. I've already got Dargon 4.1 chugging along well enough, so I can post that after the interlude's done. In any case, here are your choices:
[] [INTERLUDE] Battle of Ma'Takka Keep, starring Gar, the oft-overworked and soon-to-be-promoted Marshal of Your Armies.
[] [INTERLUDE] Lines in the Sand, starring your Grandmomma, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.
[] [INTERLUDE] Broken Prophecies, starring the former dragon of Arnias.
- Location
- PA
[] [INTERLUDE] Battle of Ma'Takka Keep, starring Gar, the oft-overworked and soon-to-be-promoted Marshal of Your Armies.
Ah, something to be said for a HERO OF THE DRAGON DOMAIN! Type individual.
[] [INTERLUDE] Lines in the Sand, starring your Grandmomma, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.
:/ :\ I feel like someone is about to have a bad day.
[] [INTERLUDE] Broken Prophecies, starring the former dragon of Arnias.
Oh yeah, that guy. I guess we'll maybe need to double-back for that Chosen one of his, and snip it in the bud...
[X] [INTERLUDE] Battle of Ma'Takka Keep, starring Gar, the oft-overworked and soon-to-be-promoted Marshal of Your Armies.
Screw plot-relevant details, let's hear about our unlucky Right-Hand Goblin!
Ah, something to be said for a HERO OF THE DRAGON DOMAIN! Type individual.
[] [INTERLUDE] Lines in the Sand, starring your Grandmomma, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.
:/ :\ I feel like someone is about to have a bad day.
[] [INTERLUDE] Broken Prophecies, starring the former dragon of Arnias.
Oh yeah, that guy. I guess we'll maybe need to double-back for that Chosen one of his, and snip it in the bud...
[X] [INTERLUDE] Battle of Ma'Takka Keep, starring Gar, the oft-overworked and soon-to-be-promoted Marshal of Your Armies.
Screw plot-relevant details, let's hear about our unlucky Right-Hand Goblin!
DangerKitty
shoddy writter
- Location
- lala land
[X] [INTERLUDE] Broken Prophecies, starring the former dragon of Arnias.
[X] [INTERLUDE] Lines in the Sand, starring your Grandmomma, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.
ok with either of these
[X] [INTERLUDE] Lines in the Sand, starring your Grandmomma, the Legendary Dragon Kiryu.
ok with either of these
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
Interlude votes are tied between Battle of Ma'Takka Keep and Broken Prophecies. Gonna need a tie-breaker, or I'll flip a coin.
Vote Closed
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
This be Gar. Son of Guk and Karr.
He be right hand of Ma'Takka. This be story.
Interlude 2 - Battle Of Ma'Takka Keep
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
Interlude 2 – Battle of Ma'Takka Keep
Starring: Gar, aka 'Marshal of Your Armies'
You Gar. You were soldier, low-noble born, under Clan Gaffati. Little reading, little numbers, you knew. At least know enough to not march to war. But clan debt is clan debt. Is why you were serving under cohort. Raiding human village, they said. Show what happens when you mess with Great Lahksul, they said.
Then Ma'Takka came. Swoop down from sky, said army under their command. Man'tani – stupid goblan – commanded to fire, guns bark. Ma'Takka invincible. Ma'Takka is Ma'Takka. Ma'Takka slaughtered your cohort, then demand fealty. You were only noble left in cohort.
You step forward, waiting to turn to ash… but Ma'Takka lets you live. You owe Ma'Takka life debt. Clan Gaffati working under Ma'Takka? Big reputation. Will make family proud.
Others no see it that way. Others stupid, try to stage coup against Ma'Takka. But gun no work. Magic no work too. Did they think something else work? Stupid, stupid. Big problem though, big headache. Ma'Takka saw something in you, chose you as aid.
Inform great Ma'Takka, you not. This something internal, this something Gobnar. Gobnar pride Gobnar on oaths and debts – stupids think it their debt to kill Ma'Takka, even if impossible. You know better.
All Gobnar in army in debt to Ma'Takka. Great one let you live when you die – ultimate life debt. But others no see that way. Others think you stupid. Others appointed you Ma'Takka's aid so that they kill you and problem gone. Unlucky for them, you read.
Not high-noble born read of course. No fancy tale of clan dispute and conspiracy. You more… practical. Read up history. Know patterns. Know three centuries, bigger Ma'Takka come, freeze Great Gobnar City Lahksul. No dig out, books say blockage greater than gun. Greater than magic. Greater than dig around.
If Ma'Takka could do same thing as bigger Ma'Takka, it better to live under life debt to Ma'Takka. No die, no freeze, no trample on stampede. Better.
That your decision. Other decisions different. Pilakka most stupid of them all. Assert that they could run. Hide. Get back to Great Lahksul about Ma'Takka. Made sure that aetheric lift, warren, armory, gunpowder stockpile not under Pilakka's control. Mutiny came, Pilakka died, her followers chased out of Ma'Takka Keep (everything named after Ma'Takka). Out of thousands, hundred lived. They dead now, you sure of that.
When Ma'Takka came back, they gave you praise, made you chief. You, low-born noble. You, fodder in Gobnar army. You, retract aether scope, and turn towards rest of Gobnar Council.
"They come, just as Ma'Takka said." You speak, stuffing aether scope back in pockets. "They come on wibaarn, wield magic, and arm in armor. How much ammunition we have?"
"Many. Siege last for years, we have musket balls still." Brinar, Maester of Logistics, speak, "Great ore we have on this mountain. Tunnels repurposed into warrens, mushroom plantations. Wood, however…"
"We be on front line, counter magic they have." A hooded figure says, hold their gnarly staff tightly. "No spares for industry after. We mages, practice magic, learn more about aether. Not furnace battery."
"Get training started when this be over." You snarl, pointing finger at hooded figure before putting on helm. "No more excuses."
You no wait for reply. You barge through doors, go up stairs, and reach flak crew. Number 67, on map. Closest one to secret Gobnar Council meeting chamber. You have lot of meeting chamber.
Gobnar in flak position no turn around and salute. Busy calculating trajectory. Good, good. You inform the gobnar that you part of first wave. They pause, before work again. Understandable, and worry warranted. If you die here, then there nothing stops Ma'Takka from burning them all. Still, years working as Ma'Takka's aid made you learn something.
Ma'takka is lazy bastard. They won't burn gobnar unless they try burn them first.
"Blank shell loaded!" One of the gobnar speak, then turn to you and salute, "All ready, Serr!"
You nod, and climb onto cannon. Powder ignite, wind howls, and off you were, drawing sword and shield off back as you go through air like whoosh. Target? Leader, riding largest wibaarn. Behind you, flak spread out through skies, scales flaking off other wibaarn. Three hundred of their number come, and third fall on first volley. Obviously, no expect gobnar to have guns. Stupid homehns.
With clang, you slam onto leader shield. The leader homehn squawk in surprise, but you already move, grabbing shield and pulling out flintlock. They try to push you off their wibaarn, beast already rolling, try to fall you off. But you smaller. You gobnar. That means you more clever. More faster. More smaller.
More victory.
You fire. Flintlock boom, and leader slips out of their saddle, dead-flying to ground. Their wibaarn cries out, diving after them, but you stop with reins. It turn to glare at you, but you cock hammer back on flintlock and point it under scales.
Once they stop fighting you, you pull out orb from pockets and crush it, and you speak to the rest of the goblan. Every single one of them.
"Leader dead." You speak, "They break! Continue, and they die!"
Cheers erupt from every goblan, volume of fire strengthened. You look at fortress walls… and wince. Looks like some of the homehns and their wibaarn had landed. Walls were being eroded, and no doubt other goblans fending off homehns in their walls. Plus the magic… You have almost none. Most of them protect flak batteries and ballista. Walls were…
Oh, Brinar going to be angry…
"Come on", you whisper to the wibaarn, and they had gall to glare at you. "We still have battle to fight. We take care of those mages then we let you free."
Your words seem to make it happy. It swivel on dime, causing you to grasp reins with great force as you try to pull arquebus from back. Flintlock not going to cut it against magic user. Arquebus would be… well, not much better, but they distracted dueling your own mages. Surprise attack would do good.
No such thing as passive ward or barrier, unless it be leyline. It no lightning bolt… but arquebus good enough. Faster than eye could see, anything pointed at dies. Good weapon against mages if use in surprise.
And there would be lots of surprise today. You have good mount, good weapons, lots of targets to shoot at. And you no alone.
Now that three hundred wibaarn was fifty, other goblans fired themselves on cannons, wanting wibaarns. Few had return orb. Most fell to ground, where they splat. Good thing they removed themselves from breeding stock. Bad enough you still look for Pilakka's spies, but these goblans existing? Good riddance.
So you bring the reins in on your own wibaarn, and they roar, catching the homehn mage off-guard as they turned around on their own mount. You already pull trigger, and they drop dead alongside their wibaarn.
Then you set off again, looking for more targets. Pluck them out the sky, you will. When there's no more mages from the homehns… then, you win.
Starring: Gar, aka 'Marshal of Your Armies'
You Gar. You were soldier, low-noble born, under Clan Gaffati. Little reading, little numbers, you knew. At least know enough to not march to war. But clan debt is clan debt. Is why you were serving under cohort. Raiding human village, they said. Show what happens when you mess with Great Lahksul, they said.
Then Ma'Takka came. Swoop down from sky, said army under their command. Man'tani – stupid goblan – commanded to fire, guns bark. Ma'Takka invincible. Ma'Takka is Ma'Takka. Ma'Takka slaughtered your cohort, then demand fealty. You were only noble left in cohort.
You step forward, waiting to turn to ash… but Ma'Takka lets you live. You owe Ma'Takka life debt. Clan Gaffati working under Ma'Takka? Big reputation. Will make family proud.
Others no see it that way. Others stupid, try to stage coup against Ma'Takka. But gun no work. Magic no work too. Did they think something else work? Stupid, stupid. Big problem though, big headache. Ma'Takka saw something in you, chose you as aid.
Inform great Ma'Takka, you not. This something internal, this something Gobnar. Gobnar pride Gobnar on oaths and debts – stupids think it their debt to kill Ma'Takka, even if impossible. You know better.
All Gobnar in army in debt to Ma'Takka. Great one let you live when you die – ultimate life debt. But others no see that way. Others think you stupid. Others appointed you Ma'Takka's aid so that they kill you and problem gone. Unlucky for them, you read.
Not high-noble born read of course. No fancy tale of clan dispute and conspiracy. You more… practical. Read up history. Know patterns. Know three centuries, bigger Ma'Takka come, freeze Great Gobnar City Lahksul. No dig out, books say blockage greater than gun. Greater than magic. Greater than dig around.
If Ma'Takka could do same thing as bigger Ma'Takka, it better to live under life debt to Ma'Takka. No die, no freeze, no trample on stampede. Better.
That your decision. Other decisions different. Pilakka most stupid of them all. Assert that they could run. Hide. Get back to Great Lahksul about Ma'Takka. Made sure that aetheric lift, warren, armory, gunpowder stockpile not under Pilakka's control. Mutiny came, Pilakka died, her followers chased out of Ma'Takka Keep (everything named after Ma'Takka). Out of thousands, hundred lived. They dead now, you sure of that.
When Ma'Takka came back, they gave you praise, made you chief. You, low-born noble. You, fodder in Gobnar army. You, retract aether scope, and turn towards rest of Gobnar Council.
"They come, just as Ma'Takka said." You speak, stuffing aether scope back in pockets. "They come on wibaarn, wield magic, and arm in armor. How much ammunition we have?"
"Many. Siege last for years, we have musket balls still." Brinar, Maester of Logistics, speak, "Great ore we have on this mountain. Tunnels repurposed into warrens, mushroom plantations. Wood, however…"
"We be on front line, counter magic they have." A hooded figure says, hold their gnarly staff tightly. "No spares for industry after. We mages, practice magic, learn more about aether. Not furnace battery."
"Get training started when this be over." You snarl, pointing finger at hooded figure before putting on helm. "No more excuses."
You no wait for reply. You barge through doors, go up stairs, and reach flak crew. Number 67, on map. Closest one to secret Gobnar Council meeting chamber. You have lot of meeting chamber.
Gobnar in flak position no turn around and salute. Busy calculating trajectory. Good, good. You inform the gobnar that you part of first wave. They pause, before work again. Understandable, and worry warranted. If you die here, then there nothing stops Ma'Takka from burning them all. Still, years working as Ma'Takka's aid made you learn something.
Ma'takka is lazy bastard. They won't burn gobnar unless they try burn them first.
"Blank shell loaded!" One of the gobnar speak, then turn to you and salute, "All ready, Serr!"
You nod, and climb onto cannon. Powder ignite, wind howls, and off you were, drawing sword and shield off back as you go through air like whoosh. Target? Leader, riding largest wibaarn. Behind you, flak spread out through skies, scales flaking off other wibaarn. Three hundred of their number come, and third fall on first volley. Obviously, no expect gobnar to have guns. Stupid homehns.
With clang, you slam onto leader shield. The leader homehn squawk in surprise, but you already move, grabbing shield and pulling out flintlock. They try to push you off their wibaarn, beast already rolling, try to fall you off. But you smaller. You gobnar. That means you more clever. More faster. More smaller.
More victory.
You fire. Flintlock boom, and leader slips out of their saddle, dead-flying to ground. Their wibaarn cries out, diving after them, but you stop with reins. It turn to glare at you, but you cock hammer back on flintlock and point it under scales.
Once they stop fighting you, you pull out orb from pockets and crush it, and you speak to the rest of the goblan. Every single one of them.
"Leader dead." You speak, "They break! Continue, and they die!"
Cheers erupt from every goblan, volume of fire strengthened. You look at fortress walls… and wince. Looks like some of the homehns and their wibaarn had landed. Walls were being eroded, and no doubt other goblans fending off homehns in their walls. Plus the magic… You have almost none. Most of them protect flak batteries and ballista. Walls were…
Oh, Brinar going to be angry…
"Come on", you whisper to the wibaarn, and they had gall to glare at you. "We still have battle to fight. We take care of those mages then we let you free."
Your words seem to make it happy. It swivel on dime, causing you to grasp reins with great force as you try to pull arquebus from back. Flintlock not going to cut it against magic user. Arquebus would be… well, not much better, but they distracted dueling your own mages. Surprise attack would do good.
No such thing as passive ward or barrier, unless it be leyline. It no lightning bolt… but arquebus good enough. Faster than eye could see, anything pointed at dies. Good weapon against mages if use in surprise.
And there would be lots of surprise today. You have good mount, good weapons, lots of targets to shoot at. And you no alone.
Now that three hundred wibaarn was fifty, other goblans fired themselves on cannons, wanting wibaarns. Few had return orb. Most fell to ground, where they splat. Good thing they removed themselves from breeding stock. Bad enough you still look for Pilakka's spies, but these goblans existing? Good riddance.
So you bring the reins in on your own wibaarn, and they roar, catching the homehn mage off-guard as they turned around on their own mount. You already pull trigger, and they drop dead alongside their wibaarn.
Then you set off again, looking for more targets. Pluck them out the sky, you will. When there's no more mages from the homehns… then, you win.
Dargon 4.1: Setting Sail
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
QM Note: Sorta forgot that I had this waiting on the wings. Woops.
Dargon 4.1: Setting Sail
You are a dragon, and you are just… tired of everything at the moment. So when you finally arrive at your lair and see large swathes of the outside fortress damaged, you could only let out a sigh and march through the ruined gates.
"Get me Gar." You command to the nearest goblin. "I have no tolerance for other dalliances while my lair looks like it had been razed."
The goblin quickly babbles out an answer, and scuttles off, leaving you to your own devices right at the fortress wall. The rest of the goblin guards stationed there quickly disappear when you level a glare at them, scurrying back into their warrens as you take off a piece of the wall and began taking a closer look.
Alchemical powder. The same one as what the goblins use for their 'guns'. Scratches done by swords, pikes, and spears, and the fact that this little wall was lightly warded and fortified meant that whatever had done this had some form of magic to cut through such enchantments as well. Little bit of divots as well, significantly larger than the little scratches done on the wall…
Hm. The Lawbringer that fled your territory did brag about the… no, not the Order of the Silver Hand. You've already dealt with that.
Yes, the Knights of Belfior. You remember now. So, their armaments consist of flying mounts and magical weapons, eh? You can certainly see why and how they could attack the fortress with impunity… though not without plentiful casualties on their end as well. The goblin army was… well, they were adequate enough, for their feeble little mortal frames. And while the fortress might have suffered damage during the battle that took place. The tunnels and warrens that lead deeper into your floating rare was undisturbed.
"Ma'takka." Ah, there they were.
"Gar. Mash'rak."
And so they report. Extensive damage to the fortress, outer walls held together with spit and dreams, and inner walls breached yet still standing. No incursions into the tunnels and warrens, and the wards and barriers placed over the entrances seem to have cloaked them from the sight of the invading army. Ammo stores are low, supplies to repair the fortress are low, numbers are dropping, and it would still take months before a sizable portion of the goblin juvenile could even start training.
Mining the mountaintop for ores and minerals is… ill-advisable, considering that their entire population is on a floating slab of rock. You would have to guide your lair someplace safe and set it down, wherein the goblins would be able to harvest their immediate surroundings to use as raw materials in order to repair their infrastructure.
But once more, your lackeys' competence shines through, and Gar urges you (begs, really) to take a look at the spots that they have planned and mapped out. Yes, yes… these are all spots with good ore deposits, or if not, then these spots contain vast forestry. Not too far from other settlements either, just in case the goblins were willing to trade with others who wouldn't want to shoot their faces at first sight.
There was one problem, however. The machine located at the heart of your lair, the one that kept the entire mountaintop from crashing into the ground in the first place… wasn't responding to the goblins' control.
Oh, it worked fine. Ever since you fixed its… ramshackle build quality, Gar had reported that there had been no malfunctions ever since then. No, what was wrong was that while it did worked, the goblins had no way of controlling it. Your lair simply just… floated around, held aloft by something and subject to its whims and currents.
It was a potentially dangerous risk. One that you need to fix immediately, lest your hard work in building up your lair goes poof when it gets sucked into an aetheric storm. Of course, neither you nor the goblins present even understood a lick of how it actually worked, which meant that… hm, yes. Poking and prodding it with a stick isn't the safest method, but there was no other choice. Not if you still wanted to nip this potential problem in the bud.
And so, you dive into the tunnels of your lair, the goblins standing in vigil quickly making way with hushed whispers and awe as you make your way towards the chamber containing the magical… thingamajig that the goblins have constructed ever since the beginning of your 'partnership'.
You gaze up at the machine, once more wondering how in the heavens and hells the goblins managed to make it work, before the thought passes, and you begin fiddling with its mechanisms. Of course, all of it was sized for goblin hands, which meant that you have to use your claws to fiddle with the more delicate bits.
Let's see… a gauge here, some levers there, and some of the readings are looking just a little bit off and– "Ma'takka!"
Yes, yes. That little bar denotes your height above the ground, and it was sinking fast. You only needed to twist this little gribbly and push a lever in to get it to stabilize, but it wasn't exactly what you were looking for. Actually, wait for just a bit. At this core, this entire mechanism worked off an aetheric engine. If you remember the parts and their functions, then you could surely…
Aha! There we go. Input controls here, the actual core over there, the output regulators seem to be working perfectly, by the looks of it. What they were using it for is… these channels seem to be working fine, so what seems to be the… problem…
These idiots. Out of all the things that you could've forgiven them for, forgetting to build a dedicated section of the mechanism for navigation was the stupidest thing you've ever seen them do. Why were all your subordinates so ridiculously competent, only to blindside you with such idiocy when you weren't looking?
It irked you, seeing that it was nothing more than a simple fix, but then again… a part of you was thankful for that. Goodness knows what the goblins would've done to your lair whenever you were out of sight. Perhaps crash it into the nearest ocean that they could find, as a start.
No, if the goblins want to change course, then they would have to come to you, instead. After all, you were the great, wise, and powerful Honored One that gave them mercy when there was none to be had. Taking your own fair share was fine. You were… Hm.
You were barely around your lair, now that you thought about it. At the very least, there were no thoughts of seditio– No wait, there were goblins that tried to take over, only to get booted out.
With a sigh, your mind flashes back to where the goblins suggested you to steer your lair. Now that you examined that memory in greater detail, you can't help but let out a grumble, an idle hand scratching your left arm before letting out a wry chuckle. These goblins… if you weren't proud of the fact that they thought they could sneak out a request from under you, then you would've burnt them all to a crisp with the implied insult.
Still, you eventually decide on a course, setting sail towards…
[] … the Dobah Sound. Rich in ores, and has an adequate forest nearby. Nothing wrong about it, and it was obvious from your perusals that it was just an adequate place to land, and nothing more. But something about this place rings suspicious to your senses, and you can't help but scratch your head in wonder as to why.
[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
[] … Kalaresh, a region known for its metallic wood. A magical grove spanning a sizable portion of the continent, and the main subject for lightning storms over the land. The goblins could trade with its keepers, or could ah, 'acquire' some of the trees in secret. Either way, they would get their resources, or they could certainly obtain it through other ah, 'alternate methods'.
Dargon 4.1: Setting Sail
You are a dragon, and you are just… tired of everything at the moment. So when you finally arrive at your lair and see large swathes of the outside fortress damaged, you could only let out a sigh and march through the ruined gates.
"Get me Gar." You command to the nearest goblin. "I have no tolerance for other dalliances while my lair looks like it had been razed."
The goblin quickly babbles out an answer, and scuttles off, leaving you to your own devices right at the fortress wall. The rest of the goblin guards stationed there quickly disappear when you level a glare at them, scurrying back into their warrens as you take off a piece of the wall and began taking a closer look.
Alchemical powder. The same one as what the goblins use for their 'guns'. Scratches done by swords, pikes, and spears, and the fact that this little wall was lightly warded and fortified meant that whatever had done this had some form of magic to cut through such enchantments as well. Little bit of divots as well, significantly larger than the little scratches done on the wall…
Hm. The Lawbringer that fled your territory did brag about the… no, not the Order of the Silver Hand. You've already dealt with that.
Yes, the Knights of Belfior. You remember now. So, their armaments consist of flying mounts and magical weapons, eh? You can certainly see why and how they could attack the fortress with impunity… though not without plentiful casualties on their end as well. The goblin army was… well, they were adequate enough, for their feeble little mortal frames. And while the fortress might have suffered damage during the battle that took place. The tunnels and warrens that lead deeper into your floating rare was undisturbed.
"Ma'takka." Ah, there they were.
"Gar. Mash'rak."
And so they report. Extensive damage to the fortress, outer walls held together with spit and dreams, and inner walls breached yet still standing. No incursions into the tunnels and warrens, and the wards and barriers placed over the entrances seem to have cloaked them from the sight of the invading army. Ammo stores are low, supplies to repair the fortress are low, numbers are dropping, and it would still take months before a sizable portion of the goblin juvenile could even start training.
Mining the mountaintop for ores and minerals is… ill-advisable, considering that their entire population is on a floating slab of rock. You would have to guide your lair someplace safe and set it down, wherein the goblins would be able to harvest their immediate surroundings to use as raw materials in order to repair their infrastructure.
But once more, your lackeys' competence shines through, and Gar urges you (begs, really) to take a look at the spots that they have planned and mapped out. Yes, yes… these are all spots with good ore deposits, or if not, then these spots contain vast forestry. Not too far from other settlements either, just in case the goblins were willing to trade with others who wouldn't want to shoot their faces at first sight.
There was one problem, however. The machine located at the heart of your lair, the one that kept the entire mountaintop from crashing into the ground in the first place… wasn't responding to the goblins' control.
Oh, it worked fine. Ever since you fixed its… ramshackle build quality, Gar had reported that there had been no malfunctions ever since then. No, what was wrong was that while it did worked, the goblins had no way of controlling it. Your lair simply just… floated around, held aloft by something and subject to its whims and currents.
It was a potentially dangerous risk. One that you need to fix immediately, lest your hard work in building up your lair goes poof when it gets sucked into an aetheric storm. Of course, neither you nor the goblins present even understood a lick of how it actually worked, which meant that… hm, yes. Poking and prodding it with a stick isn't the safest method, but there was no other choice. Not if you still wanted to nip this potential problem in the bud.
And so, you dive into the tunnels of your lair, the goblins standing in vigil quickly making way with hushed whispers and awe as you make your way towards the chamber containing the magical… thingamajig that the goblins have constructed ever since the beginning of your 'partnership'.
You gaze up at the machine, once more wondering how in the heavens and hells the goblins managed to make it work, before the thought passes, and you begin fiddling with its mechanisms. Of course, all of it was sized for goblin hands, which meant that you have to use your claws to fiddle with the more delicate bits.
Let's see… a gauge here, some levers there, and some of the readings are looking just a little bit off and– "Ma'takka!"
Yes, yes. That little bar denotes your height above the ground, and it was sinking fast. You only needed to twist this little gribbly and push a lever in to get it to stabilize, but it wasn't exactly what you were looking for. Actually, wait for just a bit. At this core, this entire mechanism worked off an aetheric engine. If you remember the parts and their functions, then you could surely…
Aha! There we go. Input controls here, the actual core over there, the output regulators seem to be working perfectly, by the looks of it. What they were using it for is… these channels seem to be working fine, so what seems to be the… problem…
These idiots. Out of all the things that you could've forgiven them for, forgetting to build a dedicated section of the mechanism for navigation was the stupidest thing you've ever seen them do. Why were all your subordinates so ridiculously competent, only to blindside you with such idiocy when you weren't looking?
It irked you, seeing that it was nothing more than a simple fix, but then again… a part of you was thankful for that. Goodness knows what the goblins would've done to your lair whenever you were out of sight. Perhaps crash it into the nearest ocean that they could find, as a start.
No, if the goblins want to change course, then they would have to come to you, instead. After all, you were the great, wise, and powerful Honored One that gave them mercy when there was none to be had. Taking your own fair share was fine. You were… Hm.
You were barely around your lair, now that you thought about it. At the very least, there were no thoughts of seditio– No wait, there were goblins that tried to take over, only to get booted out.
With a sigh, your mind flashes back to where the goblins suggested you to steer your lair. Now that you examined that memory in greater detail, you can't help but let out a grumble, an idle hand scratching your left arm before letting out a wry chuckle. These goblins… if you weren't proud of the fact that they thought they could sneak out a request from under you, then you would've burnt them all to a crisp with the implied insult.
Still, you eventually decide on a course, setting sail towards…
[] … the Dobah Sound. Rich in ores, and has an adequate forest nearby. Nothing wrong about it, and it was obvious from your perusals that it was just an adequate place to land, and nothing more. But something about this place rings suspicious to your senses, and you can't help but scratch your head in wonder as to why.
[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
[] … Kalaresh, a region known for its metallic wood. A magical grove spanning a sizable portion of the continent, and the main subject for lightning storms over the land. The goblins could trade with its keepers, or could ah, 'acquire' some of the trees in secret. Either way, they would get their resources, or they could certainly obtain it through other ah, 'alternate methods'.
Last edited:
- Location
- yorkshire
[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
PaarSiivOnikaan
Resting on a pile of books
- Location
- Germany
Eh, it happens. At least you remembered
.[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
Oh~ Now that is something I want to see. Also, there could be something useful in the storage, other than metals, like tools or other materials.
Actually, does the...machine have a weight limit we need to worry about?
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
- Location
- Earth
[X] … the Olokki Monument. A tower jutting out of the sea, containing a refinery and storage facility that they could dig up for refined metal for widespread use and wait a minute. This description, the location on the map… isn't this that sword-shaped structure off in Vimanos Sea? Were the goblins the ones that built the goddamn thing?!
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
You don't know. But it carried a freakin mountaintop, so weight's prolly not an issue.
DangerKitty
shoddy writter
- Location
- lala land
[X] … Kalaresh, a region known for its metallic wood. A magical grove spanning a sizable portion of the continent, and the main subject for lightning storms over the land. The goblins could trade with its keepers, or could ah, 'acquire' some of the trees in secret. Either way, they would get their resources, or they could certainly obtain it through other ah, 'alternate methods'.
Vote Closed
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
It's a resounding vote for the Olokki Monument! Darn it!
Dargon 4.2: Ahoy!
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
Dargon 4.2: Ahoy!
You are a dragon, and a well-read one at that. Back when you were a juvenile, you spent most of your days fighting for your place in Grandmomma's 'court' in one hand, and rifling through tomes with the other. Her lair was a wild, wild place – even more so given that she had apparently given birth to another brood – and you scrounged for any advantage that you could find within the annals of history, seeking to learn and utilize the past for your own purposes.
One of the tales that you have gleamed in aged tomes was the Sword of Vimanos. A landmark located off the coastal shelf in the Vimanos Sea, made of metal and stone. It was filled to the brim with automatons akin to the Floating Archives of Parnul, ancient machinery still thrumming along to some unknown beat.
You've been there. Quite a few times, in fact. And all those times, you've been chased away by those damnable automatons with their flashing beams of starfire, cleaving through the air and creating ozone in its wake…
It reminded you of yourself. If you had a body made out of metal and unable to fly, which… well, you'd take it any day rather than being converted into some kind of random mortal with their squishy bits and organs and all the various little pithy things that you need to micromanage just to work efficiently. Another point to dragons being obviously superior to everyone else.
Still, as you exit the labyrinthine tunnels of your lair and see the sea spreading underneath you, a grin flashes across your face. Of course, there was still the matter of Sword of Vimanos standing like a metallic vanguard against the sea waves crashing upon it, no rust on its surface even after hundreds of years.
Well, it's even older than you. You suppose you could give it a little respect for lasting this long.
"Ma'takka."
Gar speaks from beside you, mortal aging having taken its toll. You were gone for but… three years? Three years and change. Your little goblin secretary had grown a little taller since then, wearing finery livery, and slinging a long gun around their shoulders and two smaller guns by their waist. They put on their helmet, a slotted piece of leather-lined metal that fit snugly over their frame, and they turn towards you and bow, the grip on their gnarled staff wobbling by just a tiny bit.
A nod in their direction, and they took it as the cue to speak.
"Irfan karr Olokki Vartu'un. Karshak terr mifahs konn kiihr."
Perhaps, perhaps. A part of you harangued your own consciousness for even placing a modicum of trust upon these mortals, but they have proven their worth and loyalty time and time again. Fighting off those Knights fellows, doing as they're told, even driving off the would-be secessionists during the first days of your lair's construction…
Hm. Speaking of which, those secessionists. No doubt that any survivors would've made their way back to civilization, and now know of your existence. It would've been a problem… if you couldn't simply move your lair somewhere else. Thank goodness for small mercies.
"Fardu'un." You breathe in response, spying the little flickering lights on the Sword of Vimanos. "Mortani suhn goblan far diil."
"Imar'dan suhl, Ma'takka."
And with that, Gar was off, retreating back to the depths of the lair as the first rays of starfire beam out from the structure, carving holes through the rock and melting some parts into lava. It was a fussilade of projectiles, and there is no doubt that a stray shot might hit one of the goblin warrens and kill everything inside, and well… Hm, there were a lot more goblins running around in your lair. Mayhaps it would actually do them some good if you ah, culled their population by a bit. There was only so much space to fit all those goblins in…
So you wait for a few more moments before responding back in kind.
Starfire erupts from your mouth, a blazing display of colors and light that spreads apart through your own will. It buffets, covers, and shields your entire lair from harm, a roiling wall of starfire hot enough to melt through steel in seconds meeting its match by the unending fusillade of automaton fire.
Even as you were locked into keeping up a barrier of starfire, you were not found wanting elsewhere. The flow of starfire from the depths of your maw explodes in a burst, your wings bringing you up to full speed right after as you surge forward just milliseconds away from the shockwave. You fly through your own wall of starfire, dissipating and reforming the wall of flames that kept your lair from harm, even as you feel the heat seeping into your scales and trying to sear the flesh underneath.
But you didn't have to wait long.
With one final roar, the wall of starfire dissipates, sending the entire mass rushing towards the Onokki Monument. Searing heat flows through the building, melting and bubbling through the automatons who dared to attack the lair that so painstakingly built. Your arms and feet slam against the rocky frame of the structure, claws digging into the metal underneath, and sparks begin to fly while you try to halt your momentum.
A few seconds pass before your mass grinds to a halt, and snap your maw shut. The flow of starfire ceases, and you look upon your grisly work with pride blooming within your heart.
The Sword of Vimanos, the dastardly landmark that had avoided your wrath twice in the past, was now burning. Starfire coated its walls, slowly melting through the rock and metal underneath, and the automatons stationed as guards had all been slagged, melted down into one misshapen component that– Ow.
Correction. All but one automaton survived. It was quickly rectified by smacking them into the sea with an idle whip of your tail, and you quickly get back to gloating over your glorious victory.
Even now, you see the goblins on your lair shooting forth coiled ropes from their cannons, the brave pioneers (as much as mortals can be brave at least) sliding down the ropes with their own little metallic contraptions.
You see Gar among their number, landing near you while unslinging the long gun on their back. They give you a sharp salute, before turning around and barking off orders to the rest of the goblins that landed alongside him, watching as they formed up into little squads and funneled through quite the grandiose opening that you made into the wall.
With a nod and rumble of acknowledgement, you leave the goblins to their task of plunder, letting your eyes wander across the sea and– Wait. Off in the distance is a black dot, speeding its way in your direction. From where they came from, it seems to be the mainland, where… well. Where your Grandmomma's lair was supposed to be.
No doubt that they found about your presence, or they wanted an explanation as to why you left Mestina back in the Floating Archives of Parnul.
Oops.
Still, odd to send nothing more than a black dot, is it not?
[] Yes, very odd indeed. Shoot it down with a quick blast of your starfire. It would take… oh, at least a couple of seconds to narrow down the trajectory, get the expression of falling right where you wanted to… but there's a large chance that you'll take it down, sending it into the sea. The goblins could pick up what's left afterwards.
[] Yes, very odd indeed. But you really couldn't be bothered to shoot it down for yourself, so you'll leave the task up to the goblins in your lair. The way to the Sword of Vimanos is open to you now – no thanks to your illustrious performance – and you want to be the first to see through its mysteries and brag about it to everyone else.
[X] No, not really. You've had your Grandmomma send some even weirder things at you, like the time that they sent an actual, literal fish to stop you from going to the darg pile when you were but a wee juvenile. You'll just go inside the Sword of Vimanos and see what mysteries lie underneath its walls and automatons.
You are a dragon, and a well-read one at that. Back when you were a juvenile, you spent most of your days fighting for your place in Grandmomma's 'court' in one hand, and rifling through tomes with the other. Her lair was a wild, wild place – even more so given that she had apparently given birth to another brood – and you scrounged for any advantage that you could find within the annals of history, seeking to learn and utilize the past for your own purposes.
One of the tales that you have gleamed in aged tomes was the Sword of Vimanos. A landmark located off the coastal shelf in the Vimanos Sea, made of metal and stone. It was filled to the brim with automatons akin to the Floating Archives of Parnul, ancient machinery still thrumming along to some unknown beat.
You've been there. Quite a few times, in fact. And all those times, you've been chased away by those damnable automatons with their flashing beams of starfire, cleaving through the air and creating ozone in its wake…
It reminded you of yourself. If you had a body made out of metal and unable to fly, which… well, you'd take it any day rather than being converted into some kind of random mortal with their squishy bits and organs and all the various little pithy things that you need to micromanage just to work efficiently. Another point to dragons being obviously superior to everyone else.
Still, as you exit the labyrinthine tunnels of your lair and see the sea spreading underneath you, a grin flashes across your face. Of course, there was still the matter of Sword of Vimanos standing like a metallic vanguard against the sea waves crashing upon it, no rust on its surface even after hundreds of years.
Well, it's even older than you. You suppose you could give it a little respect for lasting this long.
"Ma'takka."
Gar speaks from beside you, mortal aging having taken its toll. You were gone for but… three years? Three years and change. Your little goblin secretary had grown a little taller since then, wearing finery livery, and slinging a long gun around their shoulders and two smaller guns by their waist. They put on their helmet, a slotted piece of leather-lined metal that fit snugly over their frame, and they turn towards you and bow, the grip on their gnarled staff wobbling by just a tiny bit.
A nod in their direction, and they took it as the cue to speak.
"Irfan karr Olokki Vartu'un. Karshak terr mifahs konn kiihr."
Perhaps, perhaps. A part of you harangued your own consciousness for even placing a modicum of trust upon these mortals, but they have proven their worth and loyalty time and time again. Fighting off those Knights fellows, doing as they're told, even driving off the would-be secessionists during the first days of your lair's construction…
Hm. Speaking of which, those secessionists. No doubt that any survivors would've made their way back to civilization, and now know of your existence. It would've been a problem… if you couldn't simply move your lair somewhere else. Thank goodness for small mercies.
"Fardu'un." You breathe in response, spying the little flickering lights on the Sword of Vimanos. "Mortani suhn goblan far diil."
"Imar'dan suhl, Ma'takka."
And with that, Gar was off, retreating back to the depths of the lair as the first rays of starfire beam out from the structure, carving holes through the rock and melting some parts into lava. It was a fussilade of projectiles, and there is no doubt that a stray shot might hit one of the goblin warrens and kill everything inside, and well… Hm, there were a lot more goblins running around in your lair. Mayhaps it would actually do them some good if you ah, culled their population by a bit. There was only so much space to fit all those goblins in…
So you wait for a few more moments before responding back in kind.
Starfire erupts from your mouth, a blazing display of colors and light that spreads apart through your own will. It buffets, covers, and shields your entire lair from harm, a roiling wall of starfire hot enough to melt through steel in seconds meeting its match by the unending fusillade of automaton fire.
Even as you were locked into keeping up a barrier of starfire, you were not found wanting elsewhere. The flow of starfire from the depths of your maw explodes in a burst, your wings bringing you up to full speed right after as you surge forward just milliseconds away from the shockwave. You fly through your own wall of starfire, dissipating and reforming the wall of flames that kept your lair from harm, even as you feel the heat seeping into your scales and trying to sear the flesh underneath.
But you didn't have to wait long.
With one final roar, the wall of starfire dissipates, sending the entire mass rushing towards the Onokki Monument. Searing heat flows through the building, melting and bubbling through the automatons who dared to attack the lair that so painstakingly built. Your arms and feet slam against the rocky frame of the structure, claws digging into the metal underneath, and sparks begin to fly while you try to halt your momentum.
A few seconds pass before your mass grinds to a halt, and snap your maw shut. The flow of starfire ceases, and you look upon your grisly work with pride blooming within your heart.
The Sword of Vimanos, the dastardly landmark that had avoided your wrath twice in the past, was now burning. Starfire coated its walls, slowly melting through the rock and metal underneath, and the automatons stationed as guards had all been slagged, melted down into one misshapen component that– Ow.
Correction. All but one automaton survived. It was quickly rectified by smacking them into the sea with an idle whip of your tail, and you quickly get back to gloating over your glorious victory.
Even now, you see the goblins on your lair shooting forth coiled ropes from their cannons, the brave pioneers (as much as mortals can be brave at least) sliding down the ropes with their own little metallic contraptions.
You see Gar among their number, landing near you while unslinging the long gun on their back. They give you a sharp salute, before turning around and barking off orders to the rest of the goblins that landed alongside him, watching as they formed up into little squads and funneled through quite the grandiose opening that you made into the wall.
With a nod and rumble of acknowledgement, you leave the goblins to their task of plunder, letting your eyes wander across the sea and– Wait. Off in the distance is a black dot, speeding its way in your direction. From where they came from, it seems to be the mainland, where… well. Where your Grandmomma's lair was supposed to be.
No doubt that they found about your presence, or they wanted an explanation as to why you left Mestina back in the Floating Archives of Parnul.
Oops.
Still, odd to send nothing more than a black dot, is it not?
[] Yes, very odd indeed. Shoot it down with a quick blast of your starfire. It would take… oh, at least a couple of seconds to narrow down the trajectory, get the expression of falling right where you wanted to… but there's a large chance that you'll take it down, sending it into the sea. The goblins could pick up what's left afterwards.
[] Yes, very odd indeed. But you really couldn't be bothered to shoot it down for yourself, so you'll leave the task up to the goblins in your lair. The way to the Sword of Vimanos is open to you now – no thanks to your illustrious performance – and you want to be the first to see through its mysteries and brag about it to everyone else.
[X] No, not really. You've had your Grandmomma send some even weirder things at you, like the time that they sent an actual, literal fish to stop you from going to the darg pile when you were but a wee juvenile. You'll just go inside the Sword of Vimanos and see what mysteries lie underneath its walls and automatons.
Last edited:
- Location
- Omniverse #1345
[X] No, not really. You've had your Grandmomma send some even weirder things at you, like the time that they sent an actual, literal fish to stop you from going to the darg pile when you were but a wee juvenile. You'll just go inside the Sword of Vimanos and see what mysteries lie underneath its walls and automatons.
Shooting down a mysterious object sent by one of the few things we are actually afraid of does not seem wise.
Shooting down a mysterious object sent by one of the few things we are actually afraid of does not seem wise.
PaarSiivOnikaan
Resting on a pile of books
- Location
- Germany
[X] No, not really. You've had your Grandmomma send some even weirder things at you, like the time that they sent an actual, literal fish to stop you from going to the darg pile when you were but a wee juvenile. You'll just go inside the Sword of Vimanos and see what mysteries lie underneath its walls and automatons.
- Location
- yorkshire
[X] No, not really. You've had your Grandmomma send some even weirder things at you, like the time that they sent an actual, literal fish to stop you from going to the darg pile when you were but a wee juvenile. You'll just go inside the Sword of Vimanos and see what mysteries lie underneath its walls and automatons.
Erithemaeus
GWS Recipient
- Location
- Around Dover Street
Mm, makes you wonder about the other opportunities you missed, innit?
All I can say is that even if it wasn't your Grandmomma, Dragon would still assume it was her at first, mostly due to the fact that she can do anything that she wants in her domain.