After the freighter settled, a hatch opened and a small detachment of Vectorian soldiers had poured out. They were looking up at the hovering Ravenwing, shouting things Quintus couldn't (and frankly didn't want to) hear. He turned on the ship's loudspeaker and made his standard announcement:
"This vessel's cargo will be peacefully surrendered. Once your cargo has been safely disembarked, your vessel will be fixed for a nominal fee."
Quintus' statment resulted in even more angered shouting, followed by the captain using several rude gestures in the direction of the Ravenwing. Quintus smirked, knowing the futility of the Vectorian protestations. The first of several small Hoard fleet ships had began to arrive, unloading guards to ensure the transfer of cargo. Quintus monitored the process, laughing as one of the Vectorians began to fight with a couple guards. A dwarven wizard slowly levitated out of the Hoard ship, raised his hand and rained meteors down on the difficult soldier. He fell to the ground, mortally wounded and would die soon, if not aided. The other Vectorians took the opportunity to scatter away from the approaching detachment.The wizard returned to his ship with a wave toward the Ravenwing.
Quintus stepped away from the helm and inspected the configuration of the engines. "What happened here?" he asked, not expecting much of an answer. He opened the door to the aft drive engine bay and saw that his engine was nearly destroyed. Bolts were everywhere, twisted metal banding was strewn about and fuel was trickling down to the deck below. In his final push to catch the Vectorian freighter, the Thri'kreens had removed the safety throttler and in the process the engine had suffered a fate similar to that of the Vectorian lift engines. He sighed deeply and turned back to the helm. "At least we got them. As much cargo as they have, I can easily pay for a new engine. I'll have to tow back to Zozo, though." He noticed the Thri'kreens were apprehensive to approach him. "I am not upset with either of you. You did what you had to do. The objective was simple and we survived. You will be rewarded for your work here today." Quintus approached the helm and opened a small compartment where he kept small sacks of coin for bribing various blockades and trade representatives. He tossed two sacks to each Thri'kreen, each sack valuing around 100 platinum. They opened the sacks and immediately took to the air, swaying back and forth with joy.
"Remember what you saw here today. Work for me again and there will be ten times that amount if we can keep doing this. We've received an extremely large contract that demands large amounts of weapons, armor, food, water and more. Even better if we can take it from the Vectorians while doing so."
Fresh Cargo (1/2)
"FASTER!"
Quintus knew he could overtake the cargo ship he was pursuing. The Ravenwing was smaller and faster. It wasn't behaving correctly; someone wasn't keeping up with their duties, he thought. "I said FASTER!" he bellowed at his navigator, a young female Thri'kreen. Her bug eyes widened and she leapt from her seat, flying to the rear of the ship. She began working with her brother (whom had already received his verbal lashing) tweaking the engines. "Can't get more than 79%, sir! We just can't!" came a shout, which infuriated Quintus further. He lurched the ship hard to port and then back on course. The Thri'kreen were thrown toward the side of the ship but took to the air to stabilize. Quintus needn't yell again.
The Vectorian airship was beginning to fade in the distance. He wasn't sure where it was headed just yet; it had been hopping the trade routes without stopping for some time. He couldn't engage the Munchausen engine to try and head them off. The only chance of taking the ship was to disable a lift engine, forcing it to land in unfamiliar territory. Just as he was about to cut off the chase
VVVVOOOOOMMMMMMMM
the engines had roared to life! The Thri'kreen siblings began cheering at the back of the ship. Quintus tightened his grip on the helm and trained his attention on the small dot of a ship on the horizon. It began to grow in size quite rapidly; the airship was readying a course correction and slowing down. It had descended slightly, moving just above the canopy of a forest. This would make disabling the lift engine a bit trickier. Poorly aimed shots into the forest would not only endanger inhabitants but create a blowback of dirt, plants and who-knows-what that Quintus would fly right through. Still he pressed on, coming up hard on the Vectorian freighter. They had noticed him now and had thrown their engines on full in an attempt to evade him. Quintus howeled in delight "The fools! Do you see this? Do you see what they're doing?!" he shouted to no one in particular, even though the Thri'keen had once again taken his side at the front of the ship.
The freighter ascended higher and Quintus throttled back, shifting to line up with the starboard set of lift engines. The bigger, slower ship's hull groaned as the Vectorian captain furiously tried to keep his ship centered in front of the Ravenwing. Quintus easily matched the maneuver and shouted at the male Thri'kreen "LET LOOSE ON MY COMMAND!" as he began to gain confidence in his victory. The Thri'kreen clicked a few times in response. Quintus made a final maneuver and whispered "Drop 'em to their knees." The cannons on the Ravenwing roared, two of the three blasts hitting their intended target. The third sailed wide, causing minor damage to the freighter's hull. Smoke began billowing out of the impacted lift engine and Quintus backed off the Ravenwing slowly, waiting for his prey to fall to the ground. He keyed his ship's radio twice and pinged once, letting the fleet know he required assistance at his current location. The second starboard lift engine suddenly sparked and caught fire, unable to keep up with the demand. The ship listed starboard and began to descent quickly as the captain throttled back his port lift engines to compensate. Quintus held his breath and eventually let slip a sigh of relief as the freighter cleared the canopy of the forest and began a rough landing in an open field.
Quintus knew he could overtake the cargo ship he was pursuing. The Ravenwing was smaller and faster. It wasn't behaving correctly; someone wasn't keeping up with their duties, he thought. "I said FASTER!" he bellowed at his navigator, a young female Thri'kreen. Her bug eyes widened and she leapt from her seat, flying to the rear of the ship. She began working with her brother (whom had already received his verbal lashing) tweaking the engines. "Can't get more than 79%, sir! We just can't!" came a shout, which infuriated Quintus further. He lurched the ship hard to port and then back on course. The Thri'kreen were thrown toward the side of the ship but took to the air to stabilize. Quintus needn't yell again.
The Vectorian airship was beginning to fade in the distance. He wasn't sure where it was headed just yet; it had been hopping the trade routes without stopping for some time. He couldn't engage the Munchausen engine to try and head them off. The only chance of taking the ship was to disable a lift engine, forcing it to land in unfamiliar territory. Just as he was about to cut off the chase
VVVVOOOOOMMMMMMMM
the engines had roared to life! The Thri'kreen siblings began cheering at the back of the ship. Quintus tightened his grip on the helm and trained his attention on the small dot of a ship on the horizon. It began to grow in size quite rapidly; the airship was readying a course correction and slowing down. It had descended slightly, moving just above the canopy of a forest. This would make disabling the lift engine a bit trickier. Poorly aimed shots into the forest would not only endanger inhabitants but create a blowback of dirt, plants and who-knows-what that Quintus would fly right through. Still he pressed on, coming up hard on the Vectorian freighter. They had noticed him now and had thrown their engines on full in an attempt to evade him. Quintus howeled in delight "The fools! Do you see this? Do you see what they're doing?!" he shouted to no one in particular, even though the Thri'keen had once again taken his side at the front of the ship.
The freighter ascended higher and Quintus throttled back, shifting to line up with the starboard set of lift engines. The bigger, slower ship's hull groaned as the Vectorian captain furiously tried to keep his ship centered in front of the Ravenwing. Quintus easily matched the maneuver and shouted at the male Thri'kreen "LET LOOSE ON MY COMMAND!" as he began to gain confidence in his victory. The Thri'kreen clicked a few times in response. Quintus made a final maneuver and whispered "Drop 'em to their knees." The cannons on the Ravenwing roared, two of the three blasts hitting their intended target. The third sailed wide, causing minor damage to the freighter's hull. Smoke began billowing out of the impacted lift engine and Quintus backed off the Ravenwing slowly, waiting for his prey to fall to the ground. He keyed his ship's radio twice and pinged once, letting the fleet know he required assistance at his current location. The second starboard lift engine suddenly sparked and caught fire, unable to keep up with the demand. The ship listed starboard and began to descent quickly as the captain throttled back his port lift engines to compensate. Quintus held his breath and eventually let slip a sigh of relief as the freighter cleared the canopy of the forest and began a rough landing in an open field.
Winds of Change
His incorporeal form standing unseen at the Eastern Gate of Kefkaburg, Throm watched on as the last of The Tripower Eastern Blockade marched eastward back towards the capitol city of Torregiano. This had never been The Tripower's fight nor would it ever be. Vector wasn't worth even keeping an eye on any more. And so the eye of the Kingdom was turning elsewhere for the moment. At a whim Throm willed his mind into a coexisting yet equally unseen form that stood at the base of the fountain within the city's Market Square. It was busy today and the citizens of the city bustled around and quite literally through him as they went on about their business. At first glance one might judge the scene to be just another day in the life of a major trade hub. But Throm could smell the odor of the malcontents, he could feel the white hot rays of anger in the air itself. Not a week ago, a high ranking officer of Vector was found murdered in his room. Rumors of espers defying Vector by providing aid to those in need ran rampant among the people, bolstering courage. A bombing of some sort had taken out Festival Square not a week ago. More rumors that someone was amassing a vast quantity of arms and supplies trickled through even the even deeper channels of the city's underground networks. Even this morning, bodies belonging to a Vectorian patrol had been found nailed to the walls of Shar's Church. 'Yes,' Throm thought, 'the winds of change are more than beginning to blow. Westbridge will do fine for itself if they band together and stay the course.' Once again Throm's surroundings changed as he phased out of reality his two ethereal duplicates, returning to a third. As the familiar walls of his office within the Tripower Tower returned, Throm couldn't help but privately wonder what was to become of the small city in the end. 'Time will tell.' he thought as he dismissed the subject from his mind for the last time.
A Final Journal Entry
Reality. The whole thing really blows if you ask me. But when it hits, it hits hard and usually hurts like hell. And it sucker punched me this week harder than the one I received the week prior, but I won't get into that here. It seems as though the general vote is that I'm not much good in the field. Worst thing is I can't say that I can even argue my case. Though Gilean the Lathander groupie, and Claire the spider esper tried to build a case for me. In the end though they brought up a solid point. If it is that the only place I can be properly trained in the only thing I am destined to be good at, there's only one place to go.
I'm not sure what kind of welcome I'll be getting in the western wonderland. Everything I've heard about my people indicates that they are a reserved, inclusive sort. Great, just great. But in the end I won't know until I give it a go. Plus, if I have to sit out another outing I might end up going nuttier than that most give me credit for. I think this'll be the last entry in this for a while. I'm leaving the journal along with most of my possessions. Figure it'll be better to travel light, and gods know how long I'll be away.
In the end though Claire and Gilean mentioned they would be doing their best to help with the Kaliadra issue. I still feel like my timing couldn't be worse on this one. But Sanria brought up a good point, in my abilities to defend myself. Stings to hear it, and I find myself crying into my pillow late at night (okay kiddin about the last part), but she's right all the same. Unless I want to move out to Shadowdale and become an apprentice basket weaver or a towel boy over at The House of Fetish, I'll need to man up and do something about it. Well until next I dust this thing off.
I'm not sure what kind of welcome I'll be getting in the western wonderland. Everything I've heard about my people indicates that they are a reserved, inclusive sort. Great, just great. But in the end I won't know until I give it a go. Plus, if I have to sit out another outing I might end up going nuttier than that most give me credit for. I think this'll be the last entry in this for a while. I'm leaving the journal along with most of my possessions. Figure it'll be better to travel light, and gods know how long I'll be away.
In the end though Claire and Gilean mentioned they would be doing their best to help with the Kaliadra issue. I still feel like my timing couldn't be worse on this one. But Sanria brought up a good point, in my abilities to defend myself. Stings to hear it, and I find myself crying into my pillow late at night (okay kiddin about the last part), but she's right all the same. Unless I want to move out to Shadowdale and become an apprentice basket weaver or a towel boy over at The House of Fetish, I'll need to man up and do something about it. Well until next I dust this thing off.
An interesting lead
This time Psycho and his little group were onto something. There was a large buzz
in the city of Westbridge, a town he never accepted as Kefkaburg. Today was a new
horror delivered unto the good people of the world. Psycho watched as a Vectorian
patrol of guards shook down some of the local businesses. The Apothecary was not
safe from the strong arming. The old man had at once been a strong and dangerous
target for this pretty shakedown. "Come on old man you dont need to give your skin
but we'll take it if you don't give us enough." Psycho had heard enough. The small
group quietly stepped inside the Apothecary and closed the door to the streets.
The money that was reclaimed from the patrol was taken as were the soldiers themselves. But unlike the money the soldiers were not returned to where they had come. Each of the soldiers lifeless bodies was taken and Nailed up in the church of Shar. The nails that held them were long and pierced both armor and flesh through and through. But the patrol was just the tip of the iceberg of what was in store for the day. The old man had information for Psycho that was far more disturbing than any mortal squibble. The man had information about two important items and a book that would help to utilize them. The real danger to the planet was something that flows through each of us. Makou and Black energy were about to get a lot more volatile.
The money that was reclaimed from the patrol was taken as were the soldiers themselves. But unlike the money the soldiers were not returned to where they had come. Each of the soldiers lifeless bodies was taken and Nailed up in the church of Shar. The nails that held them were long and pierced both armor and flesh through and through. But the patrol was just the tip of the iceberg of what was in store for the day. The old man had information for Psycho that was far more disturbing than any mortal squibble. The man had information about two important items and a book that would help to utilize them. The real danger to the planet was something that flows through each of us. Makou and Black energy were about to get a lot more volatile.
K.M.D.R.
Imitidoras couldnt help but giggle at his good fortune. In the time since the old church had been disbanded he had been having a bit of fun going from town to town and feeding upon whomever he wanted. Of course, his undead state also gave him a few fetishes, fetishes that he had been indulging in, in the most macabre manner. Yet, in the past few months he had begun to grow bored with his immortality. It was just dumb luck that Serpiente had clanked his way back into his life.
Ah, now there was a creature that Imitidoras could not stand. He had never understood why the leadership took it in. Always with the ROGER, 10-4, BEEP BEEP and so on, how it had driven him crazy.
Yet now, realizing that Serpiente could be his pet priest, well that was something that suited Imitidorass needs just fine. In a world void of a family for protection, having a creature throwing heals your way could be quite useful.
And so what was disjointed chaos has now become a team of abomination. And the pair worked this way for quite awhile, destroying everything that came within their path. Imitidoras pulling the strings, and Serpiente an unknowing patsy.
Then one day, deciding to murder some New Thalos guards, the duo started marching, they made it past the Crossroads when Serpientes keen optical scanners identified a person or thing in the far distance, crawling, trying to get to a city, possibly for help.
Imitidoras, seeing the possibility to indulge in his disgusting sense of fun decided to scout it out, while Serpiente scanned from the rear.
He moved in ever so slowly, and saw something that made his little undead heart flutter. What appeared to be a heavily scarred and bloody emaciated human, trying to claw his way to New Thalos and ultimately life.
Ah cooed the lich. What do we have here, poor little traveler trying to eek the strength to survive? Well well well, let little Imitidoras give you a hand. And with that the devilish lich put out his hand, fully intending to end this miserable creatures life.
The man, seeing the offering of help, also lifted his hand and then GRIPPED IMITIDORAS WRIST WITH A DEATH GRIP. The lich squeaked out a scream of surpise as he watched the dying man stand up, cast off the burnt flesh that was so coyly taped to him and stand up to reveal what he truly was, a Heucuva. With a dry laugh, the undead creature RIPPED OFF IMITIDORAS ARM AND SCREAMED TO THEKY S, BLOODY
BLOODY LIMB IN HAND.
What he actually screamed, Imitidoras could not say, because he was too busy lying on the ground, holding the stump that once held in place his arm. The last thing he remembered was Serpiente clanking up and intoning in his monotone amplifier, THREAT IDENTIFIED: ZERATUL.
And with that terrifying image, he went unconscious.
Ah, now there was a creature that Imitidoras could not stand. He had never understood why the leadership took it in. Always with the ROGER, 10-4, BEEP BEEP and so on, how it had driven him crazy.
Yet now, realizing that Serpiente could be his pet priest, well that was something that suited Imitidorass needs just fine. In a world void of a family for protection, having a creature throwing heals your way could be quite useful.
And so what was disjointed chaos has now become a team of abomination. And the pair worked this way for quite awhile, destroying everything that came within their path. Imitidoras pulling the strings, and Serpiente an unknowing patsy.
Then one day, deciding to murder some New Thalos guards, the duo started marching, they made it past the Crossroads when Serpientes keen optical scanners identified a person or thing in the far distance, crawling, trying to get to a city, possibly for help.
Imitidoras, seeing the possibility to indulge in his disgusting sense of fun decided to scout it out, while Serpiente scanned from the rear.
He moved in ever so slowly, and saw something that made his little undead heart flutter. What appeared to be a heavily scarred and bloody emaciated human, trying to claw his way to New Thalos and ultimately life.
Ah cooed the lich. What do we have here, poor little traveler trying to eek the strength to survive? Well well well, let little Imitidoras give you a hand. And with that the devilish lich put out his hand, fully intending to end this miserable creatures life.
The man, seeing the offering of help, also lifted his hand and then GRIPPED IMITIDORAS WRIST WITH A DEATH GRIP. The lich squeaked out a scream of surpise as he watched the dying man stand up, cast off the burnt flesh that was so coyly taped to him and stand up to reveal what he truly was, a Heucuva. With a dry laugh, the undead creature RIPPED OFF IMITIDORAS ARM AND SCREAMED TO THEKY S, BLOODY
BLOODY LIMB IN HAND.
What he actually screamed, Imitidoras could not say, because he was too busy lying on the ground, holding the stump that once held in place his arm. The last thing he remembered was Serpiente clanking up and intoning in his monotone amplifier, THREAT IDENTIFIED: ZERATUL.
And with that terrifying image, he went unconscious.
Causation
KILL. DESTROY. MURDER. RAPE.
These were the tenants that Serpiente lived by, while he adhered to the laws of Cyric. These were the simple mandates that were programmed into his mind by the Churchs leadership. Unfortuantly, unlike sentient beings, who are able to forget mandates and start anew, Serpiente was not reprogrammed. This has led to a significant backlash in his archaic CPU and meager kobold mind.
Thus, in the years since the crash of the old churchs, Serpiente had been wandering aimlessly, carrying out his mandates as he saw fit, with a reckless abandon that saw the deaths of mothers, fathers, children, brothers and sisters. The joy of the kill would satiate his desire for the family he had lost, but only momentarily. Then the backlash from his confusion would deepen into an all-consuming rage.
One day he wandered into a small sleepy hamlet, complete with thatched huts, a small school and a beautiful stream running through the middle. His mind smiled at the thought of all the lives he would ruin this day. He prepared himself and entered,,, yet there was no one in the town,,,upon further inspection he found bodies everywhere, bodies with pierced necks and pale sickly white skin.
Serpiente was combat engineered and knew this enemy well. A lich had beaten him. He loaded the programs necessary to destroy this enemy and proceeded with caution.
When he entered the church he saw one of the most macabre scenes his optical scanners had ever witnessed. Pieces of the priests and clergymen hung from the walls like makeshift banners, bones were used as decorations and it even appeared someone had been using the eyeballs for a game of marbles. Most horrible of all was the tell-tale signs of recent necrophilism.
In the middle of all this carnage sat a lone figure, legs crossed, patiently looking at Serpiente. As Serpiente approached his recognition software started to cross-reference the facial features of the figure. Small, lithe, maybe 3 feet tall, pale skin, and always that grin. Imitidoras.
Joy. Happiness. Two emotions that rarely flash through his CPU and brain are finally recognized. Yes, someone from the old family, someone who could relate. Imitidoras also recognizing his old comrade in arms was immediately taken aback. Finally, someone to ruin lives with.
KILL. DESTROY. MURDER. RAPE.
These were the tenants that Serpiente lived by, while he adhered to the laws of Cyric. These were the simple mandates that were programmed into his mind by the Churchs leadership. Unfortuantly, unlike sentient beings, who are able to forget mandates and start anew, Serpiente was not reprogrammed. This has led to a significant backlash in his archaic CPU and meager kobold mind.
Thus, in the years since the crash of the old churchs, Serpiente had been wandering aimlessly, carrying out his mandates as he saw fit, with a reckless abandon that saw the deaths of mothers, fathers, children, brothers and sisters. The joy of the kill would satiate his desire for the family he had lost, but only momentarily. Then the backlash from his confusion would deepen into an all-consuming rage.
One day he wandered into a small sleepy hamlet, complete with thatched huts, a small school and a beautiful stream running through the middle. His mind smiled at the thought of all the lives he would ruin this day. He prepared himself and entered,,, yet there was no one in the town,,,upon further inspection he found bodies everywhere, bodies with pierced necks and pale sickly white skin.
Serpiente was combat engineered and knew this enemy well. A lich had beaten him. He loaded the programs necessary to destroy this enemy and proceeded with caution.
When he entered the church he saw one of the most macabre scenes his optical scanners had ever witnessed. Pieces of the priests and clergymen hung from the walls like makeshift banners, bones were used as decorations and it even appeared someone had been using the eyeballs for a game of marbles. Most horrible of all was the tell-tale signs of recent necrophilism.
In the middle of all this carnage sat a lone figure, legs crossed, patiently looking at Serpiente. As Serpiente approached his recognition software started to cross-reference the facial features of the figure. Small, lithe, maybe 3 feet tall, pale skin, and always that grin. Imitidoras.
Joy. Happiness. Two emotions that rarely flash through his CPU and brain are finally recognized. Yes, someone from the old family, someone who could relate. Imitidoras also recognizing his old comrade in arms was immediately taken aback. Finally, someone to ruin lives with.
KILL. DESTROY. MURDER. RAPE.
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