Too Many Sparks

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chicgeek
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by chicgeek »

Hmm...land for a quick conference, before we hit a big battle? Or grouse to the others in the Pontiac about how those hide bound old fogies don't understand your strategy? Or, can you direct your voice to a specific vehicle for a conversation? Perhaps that'd be a good reason for stopping! Installing a quick Glytch radio or other communication device, to insure we're all on the same track, can communicate in battle, ect.
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Sgt. Howard
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Sgt. Howard »

Just remember- the Old Sgt. has to make a 'million in one' shot with his ancient musketry...
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

That gave me an idea, I'll write it in a bit - I'm in the middle of a thing...

Sarge, you will have plenty of opportunities
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

Glytch circled lower to the ground and came to a halt well ahead of the steamer trucks. "I'm gonna set up comms with the other vehicles. Come along, I don't trust any of you enough to leave you alone with my Pontiac for any length of time."

"Oh, very well." Gil rolled his eyes. Tarvek briefly struggled to hide his disappointment.

"Um... Shouldn't we be more worried about the horrific monster over there?" Agatha pointed at the All Seeing Eye inside the massive portal.

"Nah, I'll explain in a bit. Might as well bring everyone up to speed, and I'd rather we keep moving instead of sit here talking." Glytch got out and grabbed a strange leather bag from a pocket in his door, slinging it across his back as he walked toward the now idling steamers. The Pontiac beeped once to inform Glytch it had locked itself.

Brigs poked his head out of his truck. "You are most indecisive, Doctor Glytch. First you insist we hurry, now you stop for tea?"

Glytch rolled up his sleeves, revealing two smooth, sleek steel vambraces, both obviously packed with gadgets and technology. Brigs narrowed his eyes.

"First off, I'm not really a doctor. I've never really bothered to go back to school since I got my bachelors in mechanical engineering. Since then, I've either taught myself or I learned on the job."

Brigs sniffed. "Very well... Mister Glytch."

"Just 'Glytch,' please. I'm far too much of a scoundrel to be a mister or a sir. Second, I want to set up a common line of communication between the vehicles. Mind if I have a look to see what I can do? I promise I won't break anything."

Brigs looked confused over Glytch's refusal of honorifics. Then there was a procession of suspicion, disdain, and finally doubt. "What makes you think you are best-suited for the job?"

"Because I don't want people looking at my stuff because it will mess up your technological evolutionary tree. I don't want to pollute your universe with technology or knowledge from mine unless absolutely necessary." Glytch paused and searched for another way to explain it. "My technology could do the same thing to your world as... A foreign species imported into a new ecosystem."

Understanding dawned on Brigs' face, and perhaps a small trace of respect. "I see... But won't your knowledge of our technology pollute your world?"

Glytch shrugged. "I haven't seen anything new yet. My world is over a hundred years ahead of yours. You have interesting applications and approaches, I'll give you that."

Brigs considered it for a moment before opening the hatch to admit Glytch. "I want everything back where it was."

Glytch climbed in and looked at the control panel. "How do you drive this?" He motioned at the mass of levers, none of which were labeled.

Brigs raised an eyebrow, smirking somewhat. "Too much for you to handle?"

"It's horrible! Nothing about this is intuitive! How many of these are devoted to steering?"

"Why, two, obviously. One to send pressure to the left, one to send pressure to the right. It's quite simple, really."

"I think you and I have different ideas on the meaning of simple, sir. Whatever. Show me where you keep the communication devices, please."

Brigs pointed to an access panel, and Glytch got to work, pulling a small toolset from his bag - a screwdriver with a flexible head that solidifies when subjected to a particular resonant ultrasonic sound served to undo the strange triangular screws. Once he was in, he immediately recognized the workings of a CB radio set. "What is that called here?"

"That is the Aethric Telecommunicator. I based it off of some Heterodyne relics I came across in Prague. The defense mechanisms the Heterodynes are so famous for made it a bit of a challenge to get a good look, but I managed."

Glytch nodded. "Some overlap is to be expected. This is called a 'Citizen's Band Radio" in my world, and I just so happen to have one in my car. Perfect." Glytch replaced the cover and trotted back to his car, which beeped again and unlocked when he put his hand on the door handle.
After quickly parking the Pontiac right next to Brigs' steamer, he called to Brigs. "Start talking into the radio. I'll fiddle with my car until I get the signal."
Brigs nodded and began muttering into his handset. Glytch scanned with his CB radio until he got a signal... But it was all garbled.
"Brigs? Could you describe the way you encode the input into the... Uh... Aethric wave?"

"Ah, I have implemented a security measure, to ensure nobody listens in our conversations. I'm glad it's working. Starting from the moment I activate it, it records for hundredth of a second, reverses the recording, and then broadcasts it. It causes a slight delay, but it's so small it hasn't bothered me."

Glytch nodded silently and opened up a window to write a matching program in his computer to both encode and decode CB transmissions as Brigs described.
"Ok, try again."

"Brigadier broadcasting, three one four one. Brigadier broadcasting, three-" Brigs' voice issued from Glytch's sound system - slightly grainy and tinny, but easily understandable.

"Ok, got it! Get all the other radios on this channel and code. It'll be useful being able to talk on the move. I want to bring everyone up to speed on what's going on."

Once Glytch was airborne and got confirmations from the rest of the convoy, he pressed a button on his steering wheel and spoke to the party. "Ok, I am ready to answer your questions. First come first serve."

Doctor Emily's voice spoke. "Why do you insist on circling overhead like a carrion bird? Not only are you announcing our presence, but now everyone who can see knows you have weapons and can fly very quickly. Keeping that a secret would have been a major tactical advantage."

Glytch nodded. "I'm at altitude so I can get a good wide sweep with my radar. I can detect anything as big as... A moderately sized bear anywhere above the trees for ten miles. I am circling so I can scan the surroundings with my eyes, because it's possible to be invisible to the radar without being invisible to the eye. And I'm keeping my turret out because it is somewhat slow to deploy but quick to fire. And our presence is announced anyway by your engines - all that smoke and steam is quite visible, and anyone who has the patience to watch the smoke long enough will note the sources are moving, indicating a convoy as opposed to a village or something.
Agatha asked earlier if we ought to be more worried about the All Seeing Eye out yonder. The reason I'm not fearing for my life is it moves very slowly."

Gil leaned forward, and Glytch pressed the button so he could speak to everyone. "But it was able to move within the radius of the Take Five device my father used on Mechanicsburg. Why isn't it moving faster now?"

"Imagine our stopped time is equal to an arbitrary number 1. Our regular pace of time could be described as a 2. The Eyes operate on a completely different scale... They experience time eons at a time... Their regular pace of time is in the billions. It can see all of the time from the beginning of the universe to the end all at once. Like how we can see everything drawn on a piece of paper all at once. To them, 1 and 2 are so close to one another it hardly makes a difference." Glytch struggled a bit to explain the concept... It was hard enough just to understand it himself. Teaching others was even more of a challenge.

"Whull, how the heyll 'r' we s'pposed ta fight sumthin' lahk thayt?" Greg's thick accent was immediately recognizable. "It c'n see all thayt wus, all thayt is, an' all thayt will be, raht? It knows ev'rythin' we're gonna do before we cayn even think 'Whut 'r' we gonna do?'"

Glytch smiled and his voice became a little bit rougher. "My presence here completely throws it off. I'm from a different universe. I am foreign. I was created by different laws of physics, different math, different chains of cause and effect, different quantum fluctuations. I add a whole new layer of complexity to the equation. I am a set of variables it can't solve for because it doesn't know my past and it can't predict my future. All Seeing Eyes can only perceive one universe at a time. They can't see the entire multiverse. To it, I throw everything into absolute chaos."

Brigs came over the radio now. "That's why it wants you dead, then. It... The Eye... Wants to remove you from the equation. It wants to get rid of you and your variables." It was a statement more than a question.

"Correct. Plus, they don't like it when universes collide, and I'm only here because your universe is colliding with mine. That's why Brigs and Greg exist here too... You are projections of people from my universe who were nearby when I got pulled through. You yourselves weren't pulled through, but... You left ...dents... in this universe. I punched through completely."

Tarvek shoved Gil back and leaned forward. "So... What, you just being here will cause enough chaos to throw the Eye so off balance it can't do anything?"

"Oh, not at all. My causing chaos will simply nullify the omniscience of the Eye. They're still immensely powerful and have authority over forces I can barely imagine. What I need to do is to create... Patches. Every instance where time was meddled with, it... Damaged time itself. Because time is an integral feature of pretty much everything, damaging it hurts everything. Robur's and then Klaus' time stop, then all the foolishness Gil and Agatha did with Enigma's Time Window... My calculations indicated even a single anomaly in time could make a universe fall apart - your universe has at least five. I'm amazed this universe still exists."

Agatha spoke up. "So that's why you want to go to the Castle, right? To find out how to make those patches for our time?"

"First I need to get Robur's notes. I can't really fix a problem like this without knowing the exact nature of what caused the problem. This is basically extremely complicated algebra, and every anomaly is like an error in the calculation. The error persists on down the calculation to the bottom, creating an incorrect answer. I'm only able to see the calculation a few steps after the error was made, so I have to make a change that will counteract the damage the error caused. There are five errors... At least. I need to know everything I can about each and every error so I can, hopefully, make one change that will counter the effects of all of those errors. Once I make that happen, we'll have to wait and see if I need to hunt down more time anomalies. Hopefully I can get this all sorted before the temporal pressure equalizes..."
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
chicgeek
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by chicgeek »

Emily's mind is in a whirl.

"Correct. Plus, they don't like it when universes collide, and I'm only here because your universe is colliding with mine. That's why Brigs and Greg exist here too... You are projections of people from my universe who were nearby when I got pulled through. You yourselves weren't pulled through, but... You left ...dents... in this universe. I punched through completely."

Good heavens, Then what happens to them when the wounds in time are...patched? Does that mean they will cease to exist?"
She keeps her thoughts to herself. Not the kind of question to ask over the radio.
FreeFlier
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by FreeFlier »

The black wolf drops another squealing captive into another bucket . . . she looks across the truck garden at the house just before the door opens.

The long heavy case rumbles as he tows it across to the nondescript white van with FFE signs on the sides . . . the van rocks slightly, ponderously as he slides the case in and locks it down.

<These need food and water too.>

“More? Okay . . .” he calls, then climbs in to drive the van back to the shop . . . counting off buckets, he comments “You’ve been busy” as he goes about feeding the captives.

<Far too many . . . far too many. One hopes they do not take over . . .>

“They must have been coming through for a while . . .”

<Yes. If they breed here, they will not snap back when the leak is fixed.> She stretches again. <One wonders why you brought noisy-throwers.>

“Not good. . . . Because the middle of a firefight is not the place to find out that the plasma gun polarizes its flux capacitor when fired too many times in the same direction and that the only fix is to reform it . . . and I have to build the tools to build the tools. I know what smokeless powder will do. Now, to the bunk.” He motions at the open side door.

<Oh. Chase!> The black wolf crouches, ready to run . . . He chuckles as he climbs in.

As soon as the van starts to roll, she’s off! Racing ahead, leaning sharply at the turns, tail swinging counterbalance . . . she skids to a stop outside the embanked entrance. <Tie! Again.>

“Yep.” He points a device at the door and pushes a button . . . walking around the turn, he pushes the button several times in a pattern, then pulls out the keyring to unlock the heavy door beneath the light corrugated-fiberglass roof . . . “I figure an E4 pack will be enough.”

<One agrees. . . . One does not like loud noises.> Sharp glossy black ears flatten in protest as she sits down outside.

“Sometimes it’s necessary.”

<One still does not like it.>

Another heavy case . . . and a second, marked with a P. “Wish we could have these in separate vehicles, but . . .” He relocks the doors and wheels the cases out to the van, pausing to push the buttons on his device again.

<And one wishes someone had not meddled.>

He slides the heavy cases into the van and locks them in place. “And now . . .”

<One does not like that either.> Her ears lay down in distaste again. <One will require a good brushing.>

“Two notes that.” He holds the heavy blue harness out . . . she reluctantly steps beneath it and stands while he buckles it firmly in place and adjusts the straps. “Now, try it.”

Twisting, she reaches the buckles with her teeth . . . they pop open and she shakes the straps off. <That is better! You changed the hold-things!>

“I thought you’d like that.” He smooths ruffled fur with a couple of quick brush-strokes and replaces the harness.

<One hopes that we have everything.> She looks at him expextantly.

“Two hopes so too.”

<In.> she waits until he climbs in and sits in the driver’s seat . . . then paces ritually around the van three times clockwise . . . three more times, and three final times before jumping gracefully onto the platform in place of the right front seat. <Protection-flat of boringness is ready.>

He blinks as he snaps the short restraint leads to her harness. “You are not a unicorn . . . though you have the superciliousness down.”

She ignores the commentary - and the shimmer above the engine’s doghouse. <That way.>
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

The convoy continued onward through the rocky field. The Carpatian Mountains weren't nearly as rugged as Glytch had feared, but they still ensured the steam wagons could never get up to top speed. The radar wasn't indicating any threats nearby, so Glytch opened the roof back up to let in the fresh air - carefully avoiding the smoke and steam columns from the archaic wagons crawling along below.

Glytch, Brigs, and Emily, predictably, got into an argument... Partly to pass the time.

"Look, I dunno what your problem is, my dear steamed elder colleagues. It was a threat and I took it out. It had no loot value, and I did the job so fast I got both the enemy and the missile in one shot."

"It was the equivalent of using a grenade to kill a cockroach!"

"Hey, roaches are tough. And besides, I'm not exactly in a dawdling kind of mood."

"You couldn't have made it at all sporting? Don't you value finesse and skill in your world at all?"

"Oh, for cryin'...out... Uh..." Glytch was suddenly distracted by the trees. They look like they're rising and falling like... Oh, damn. "ALL HANDS, FULL STOP, UNKNOWNS APPROACHING FROM BENEATH!"

The convoy screeched to a halt, and the ground all around exploded as strange. Drill-shaped eggs opened up from beneath to release an absolute horde of ground and air clanks.
HALT, TRESPASSERS. YOU Will BE DETAINED FOR IMMIGRATION QUESTIONING AND EMPLOYMENT.
"Son of a... I don't have the time or the patience for this." Glytch lowered the Pontiac and retracted the turret. "Gil, Tarvek, let's see if we can talk ourselves out of this quickly." Glytch turned toward the others, seeing they were all lined up in a row next to the convoy.

It reminded Glytch of a firing squad. His skin crawled, but he put on a smile anyway. Maybe the spark that commanded these could be reasoned with. "Evening! My name is GlytchMeister. I'm currently hosting a little diplomatic vacation, and it appears my charts were calibrated incorrectly. I don't suppose you could point me in the direction of Vienna, could you?" He acted every bit the suave tour guide he was supposed to be, gesturing smoothly and smiling genuinely. Brigs and Greg exchanged speculative glances.

The clanks were silent for a long moment. Then: "WHAT ARE THE NATIONS REPRESENTED, AND BY WHOM?"

Gil, Tarvek, and Agatha stepped forward and announced themselves. Each one elicited significant buzzing and hubbub among the clanks, but "Agatha Heterodyne of Mechanicsburg" actually made one clank overheat and fall over.
"THE MASTER WOULD BE VERY PLEASED TO HAVE SUCH ILLUSTRIOUS EMPLOYEES."

Ok, I'm out of patience. Glytch sidled up to Brigs. "Finesse? You want finesse, old man? Fine... Ok, let's get this out of the way so maybe you'll get it through your osmium skull I know what I'm talking about." Glytch smiled and crouched slightly. "I'll show you finesse... And you might learn a thing or two about style, too, Brigadier."

Brigs glowered first at the strange young spark getting into a low combat stance and then at the thousands of clanks surrounding them, both on the ground and hovering in the air. "Boy, I highly suggest you try to fight me when we aren't in the middle of an active warzone."

"Fight you? No. I'll be fighting them. No killstealing, these are mine." With that, Glytch made a gesture with his left hand, activating his spacial warp shield. His right gauntlet extended two blades with a narrow gap between them on either side of his fist - electricity arced between the blades with a disconcerting ZzzzTak ZzzzTak sound.
*VORP*
"TARGET LOST. SCANNI-"
*VORP*
Glytch reappeared above the airborne clank and dove down, driving the weaponized Jakob's Ladder deep into the circuitry.
AaAAAaa__vzarlspithukshhhh--*
*VORP*
Glytch disappeared just before the first clank exploded, reappeared again underneath another one on the ground, and hamstrung it by severing several hydraulic lines. Another teleport, and he caught a clank's foot mid-step and reversed the momentum with his shield, knocking the victim into several other clanks. Another teleport and he jammed his taser blade into the center of the tangled group. Every clank in direct contact conducted the electricity to the next, frying and shorting out circuits along the way.
Glytch teleported here and there at random, dispatching clanks almost too fast for the eye to see. One moment he was on the ground rapidly and violently disassembling a steam walker, the next he was hundreds of feet in the air, electrocuting a gyrocopter clank. Frequently, he would appear simply to disappear again, feinting a clank into attacking a neighbor. He never struck a clank more than once, every strike was fatal, and not a single clank successfully landed a blow or a bullet or a missile or a blade on Glytch. He blocked or reversed incoming attacks from the side or behind without looking several times, and he struck at clanks without so much as a glance in their direction equally as often. Other times he dove down from above, teleported mid-fall, and reappeared under a hovering clank to attack from below or from the side, preserving his momentum. Just when the more intelligently programmed clanks thought he had to maintain his momentum, he switched tactics and fell from one clank, teleported before he hit the ground, and reappeared on top of another clank on the ground, completely motionless. Several bulletsamd missiles guided toward where Glytch was supposed to be moving toward ended up impacting against the clank he stood on, detonating it beneath him. He rode a piece of the hull back up into the air and flipped off of it just before it slammed against a mechanical dragonfly equipped with bladed legs. One of the blades broke loose, Glytch pointed a hand at it and, with another teleport, redirected it at an incoming ornithopter before teleporting himself again, just as the skewered ornithopter crashed into a beetle-shaped tank on the ground.
There was a lull as the combat programs struggled to keep up with what they had just witnessed and tried to recalibrate their strategies - their enemy had just teleported something other than himself for the first time, and very few of their programs could handle such a threat. Eventually, those that could not come up with a viable solution defaulted to 'attack.' Glytch quickly dispatched them one by one, seeming almost casual in his movements.

Brigs leaned in towards Violetta. "Young lady, do you understand what's happening?"

"No... I don't..." Violetta shook her head slowly. "I can... Almost track him, but he's just moving too fast!"

Brigs blinked a few times before concentrating on Glytch as much as he could. Following the hooded spark was nearly impossible, but as he watched, he began to see the pattern.

Now both Violetta and Zeetha were squinting at Glytch. "It's... It's a bit like... How some of the Smoke Knights stationed in France sometimes move, but..." Violetta whispered. "Parkour?"

"Yeah... It's a little bit like how the stealth fighters of my tribe work, too. But he's..."

"He's enhancing his movements with some form of teleportation." The Brigadier and Agatha spoke simultaneously.

"He's dancing through them." Tarvek spoke in a hushed voice as well.

Glytch moved from one target to the next, to and fro through the entire army of battle clanks. His movements became ever more varied as the army fell and became disorganized, but the chaos of his prey made his predatory dance all the more artful as he improvised, moving with absolute freedom through the horde of deadly machines. Carnage followed in his wake as machines detonated, caught fire, shorted out, were electrocuted, fell apart from an expertly aimed blade cut as a structural component, or leaked so much fuel they ceased to function. Through it all, Glytch avoided getting singed, cut, hit, shot, and even avoided all of the oil, fuel, steam, and coolant flying around as well.

Finally, only a hundred or so clanks remained on the ground, scattered around among the disabled clanks at random. Glytch teleported high above and dove head-first at the ground for several seconds, building up speed and memorizing the positions of the enemies. Then, just before he hit the ground directly in front of Emily, he vanished and reappeared slicing through a clank at inhuman speed, using his built up momentum to propel him forward. He teleported so rapidly the sound from one port blended into the next as he cut apart the last hundred of the army in less than a few seconds.

*VORP*
Glytch reappeared in front of Brigs, still in stance.

After a deafening silence, a hundred clanks clattered to the ground at once.

Glytch slowly straightened and deactivated his blade and shield without a word, inclining his head politely to the Brigadier and Emily.
Last edited by GlytchMeister on Mon Jun 06, 2016 12:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Dave
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Dave »

Par for the course,
parkour the force. :mrgreen:
chicgeek
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by chicgeek »

(Yes, I noticed Glytch's sonic screwdriver^_^ )

"Glytch slowly straightened and deactivated his blade and shield without a word, inclining his head politely to the Brigadier and Emily."
Emily strides over to Glytch, latches onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, and drags him aside.
"Yes, yes, well done and all that, but we need to talk about something important now"
"You're welcome! But-"
She cuts him off. "I don't know if Greg and Al caught what you were implying, but if they are mere 'dents' left by their progenitors in your universe, does that mean that upon the repair of the time anomalies, they will cease to exist?"
She doesn't give him a chance to respond. "Because they are here, now as full fledged thinking beings, with an established spot in this universe, and them being wiped from existence is unacceptable.
You will fix this. Do I make myself clear? GOOD."
chicgeek
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by chicgeek »

Oh, and this image seems apropos for this thread-
http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20150629
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Dave
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Dave »

And alterverse Greg and Al's difficult situation reminds me a bit of this theme...
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Just Old Al
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Just Old Al »

Dave wrote:And alterverse Greg and Al's difficult situation reminds me a bit of this theme...
Thanks, Dave...I'm going to have that running through my head for the rest of the day.

"Go placidly amid the noise and waste, and know what comfort there is in owning a piece thereof."
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

chicgeek wrote:(Yes, I noticed Glytch's sonic screwdriver^_^ )

"Glytch slowly straightened and deactivated his blade and shield without a word, inclining his head politely to the Brigadier and Emily."
Emily strides over to Glytch, latches onto his arm with a surprisingly strong grip, and drags him aside.
"Yes, yes, well done and all that, but we need to talk about something important now"
"You're welcome! But-"
She cuts him off. "I don't know if Greg and Al caught what you were implying, but if they are mere 'dents' left by their progenitors in your universe, does that mean that upon the repair of the time anomalies, they will cease to exist?"
She doesn't give him a chance to respond. "Because they are here, now as full fledged thinking beings, with an established spot in this universe, and them being wiped from existence is unacceptable.
You will fix this. Do I make myself clear? GOOD."
Glytch took a deep breath and raised his hood a little to look directly into the Doctor's eyes. "I cannot make any promises in that regard. They were created by the time anomalies, so my efforts to save this universe and mine, and any others that might be affected, may return things to as they were."
Emily's face went stony with anger. "I will not allow you to kill-"
"Do you know how many people live on this planet? Over seven billion live on mine, and that's only counting my planet. Not the countless other worlds in my reality. I don't want to do that kind of math again, but if I must, I will." Glytch lowered his hood, and for a moment, Emily could see the age in his eyes. "Even if they were removed from this reality, I doubt you would remember. This is time we're talking about, it doesn't just run one way." Glytch looked over to where Gil, Tarvek, and Agatha were foraging for parts amidst the wreckage and sighed again. "...However."
Emily couldn't help but feel a surge of hope.
"I don't really know what sort of effects my corrections will have. I will need more data and more information to say anything definite, but there is a chance the corrections... The patches... Won't delete anyone." Glytch ran a hand down over his face. "Which might mean I'm stuck here forever... But either way, I will do what I can, Emily."
Glytch turned away and headed toward the noble young sparks and put his hood back up.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
chicgeek
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by chicgeek »

Edited!

Emily lays a hand on his arm as he turns, gentler this time, and speaks softly.
"Thank you...and..." She pauses. "I know, when you weigh two against billions...still. Thank you for trying." Em blinks her eyes rapidly, then clears her throat, turning stern once more. "Young man, if you think between all of us we couldn't come up with a way to unstrand you, you are highly mistaken." She sniffs, haughtily. "Suppose we could put you up in the meantime as well. Now, if you're quite done lollygagging, I have things to do."
"Hey! You're the one who grabbed me!"
The observant might notice an amused glint in her eye as Glytch sputters
Then casually-"Those were security, not battle clanks. We'd have been just fine - till you attacked them. Then...the die was cast. The ones we need to worry about...are them." With this, she points to the herd of clanks headed in.
She sighs. "Suppose Al and I had best tidy this mess up. Now, off with you." Em makes shooing motions with her hands, then strides over to the Brigadier.
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Just Old Al
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Just Old Al »

As Em strode over, the Brigadier looked into the distance at the approaching throng, sighed, and turned to his companions.

"Oh, well - there's nothing to do with it, then. We've a battle coming, and this is going to get jolly. Hopefully the butcher's bill is going to be paid by the clanks - let's make sure of that, shall we?"

"My lads in Clara will be doing air support with the steam rifle - but this won't account for the clanks on the ground - the steam rifle's not the weapon of choice there. However, there's plenty to go around - we'll all get our bag limits today!

EM and I will handle this lot" he gestured, pointing to the left "so you lot get to divide up the rest. We'll finish ours up and come and give you youngsters a hand if need be." he finished, enjoying a small barb at his younger colleagues' expense.

Turning to Doctor Lopez-Viktor, a wolfish grin on his face, he said. "Doctor, I do hope your dance card isn't full - I expect this dance is going to be lively. Can I have the honor?"

Em looked him over with an appraising eye, and matched his grin with one of her own. "Weelll...All right. You look like you can keep up with me." 

Hurriedly, the two prepared for their part in the battle. The Brigadier reached into a weapons locker on Clara's side, and pulled out bandoliers of speedloaders, followed by a gunbelt with matched Webley .455 pistols in tooled holsters.

Noting the elaborate leatherwork, Em lifts an eyebrow, and remarked in a tone of amusement, "It appears you've spent as much time decorating it as building it. I've seen peacocks with less fancy plumage."

Al coloured slightly and sheepishly said, "Yes, my dear lady, but you DID notice. One must always put one's best foot forward if one expects to be noticed by the distaff side."

She lets loose a sudden bark of laughter. "Ha! All right, you've got me there." As a conversational aside-"Peacocks are such noisy, strutting birds, aren't they? There's a few hanging about at home. They're just lucky they're attractive enough for me to tolerate them."

While he was hurriedly preparing Doctor Lopez-Viktor was doing the same. Rummaging through her pockets 
she finds and tucks back away a deck of cards, a tiny jar holding what looks like a snake in formaldehyde, a small tin of lemondrops, and a feathered fan, shimmering with cobalt blue peacock feathers before finding her packs of power cells for her guns, which she stuck into the cuffs of her gauntlets for easy access.

Now prepared, the elderly sparks called out "This lot's ours - amuse yourselves with the rest". They calmly walked toward a section of the approaching clanks, took stance and the deadly dance began.

Trusting to their colleagues to do their part the two stood, calmly firing into the front ranks of the approaching army. With each carefully chosen shot a clank dropped, either drilled precisely through its brain case by the Brigadier's pistols, or with its middle disintegrated by the effect of the Doctor's rust ray. 

Smiling to herself, a quick sense of satisfaction filled Em after the first shot, upon seeing how well the range and focusing adjustments are working, then all her concentration was on the fight. 

Closer and closer the front rank came, and the firing sped up in its pace. Inexorably, the two gun-wielders were surrounded by the attacking clanks, standing in a cleared circle defined by the windrows of downed clanks. Still the army came on, heedless of safety as machines are, trying to capture the pair.

The dance became breathless, with the two standing back to back, slowly rotating in place as each shot brought down another assailant. As the Brigadier needed to reload Em would turn and extend her arms over both their fields of fire, keeping the clanks at bay with their blades as the Brigadier broke his pistols and reloaded. Occasionally the favour was returned as Doctor Lopez exhausted her power cells, with the Brigadier covering both sides - arms out to the sides, head turning, and firing with deadly effect.

Slowly, like the tide, the wave of clanks worked its way closer and closer, stumbling over their fallen comrades but making their way nonetheless.

The pace of the battle was telling on the human combatants as well, The Brigadier was bleeding in two spots on his legs where clanks had gotten close enough to slash with pikes, but he stood and continued to fire unabated. Doctor Lopez-Viktor did the same, though her leather lab coat showed several slash marks and some spots of blood - but like her companion she fired unabated.

Suddenly, it was over - the ranks of clanks had broken and moved off - ordered away by an unseen hand. Firing a few blasts at the retreating backs of their assailants, Em looked to her companion, who was calmly clearing his pistols and reloading with full loaders.

"We did it." She stood, exhausted, grimy from the smoke from the Brigadier's pistols, but triumphant.

Reholstering his pistols, the Brigadier looked to his dignified companion and said, "Yes, we did." Taking her gauntleted hand, he raised it to his lips and bestowed a small peck, saying "A tribute to a gallant battle companion. Your dancing was divine, Doctor - I am honoured to fight with you."

"We do work well together, don't we?" She leans over and brusquely plants one on his lips. "Now come on, you old peacock, I've got a first aid kit here in my pockets. And a flask for medicinal purposes, as well."

Moment over, they walked slowly over to their companions, also begrimed by the smoke of battle.
"The Empire was founded on cups of tea, mate, and if you think I am going to war without one you are sadly mistaken."
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by FreeFlier »

“Whoof!” the white van slows to crawl as the driver shakes himself like a wolf straightening rumpled fur. “That was . . . interesting.”

The black wolf shakes herself gently. <It makes one’s fur rumple.>

“Mmph. Good description . . . now where . . .” the desert bush beyond the windshield is like nothing in North America . . . “Africa? . . . . sub-Saharan?”

<Yes. The high desert north of the south . . .> She concentrates intently for a moment . . . five soft shoop noises emanate from the rear of the vehicle . . . they seem to be muffled by the storage cabinets. <North of the flat mountain . . . above the long cliff . . .>

“The Highveld. . . . Okay . . . so . . . watch for extremists. Of either side.”

<Not here . . . those of the super-super-pack of the free bright-fire are reasonable.> She looks off to the right and concentrates again . . . the shimmer above the doghouse coalesces into a recognizable image of a rural farm. <There. Go there.>

“Free bright-fire . . . Oranje Frei Stadt? So there’s apartness, then.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t seem your style.”

<Herenow they do not have apartness . . . the firecoats were sensible here, and the packs did not become what was in our world . . . they are reasonable here. Those who live here see between worlds . . . they will know things.>

The van slowly bumps forward through the bush . . . something moves ahead, a vast gray-brown bulk . . . the dark eye looks small on the massive head. “Well, that’s a definite difference!”

<Yes . . .> the black wolf trails off into intense concentration again . . .

The massive head tilts inquisitively, and the elephant shuffles ponderously closer . . . as he reaches for the shifter, the wolf adds <Do not.>

The elephant paces inexorably forward . . . that eye is much larger when it’s just outside the driver’s window . . . he returns the gaze calmly for a long moment.

The great dun bulk turns ponderously and vanishes silently into the bush.

“whoof!”

Something else moves . . . more gray-brown bulks, implausibly silent.

<Those-that-should not-be-here are here too . . . She does not like this. Those-who-see-hidden do not like it either.> She scratches her right ear. <That way.>
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

{MASSIVE Cooperative effort between myself, Al, and Chicgeek.}


Glytch sprinted to where Agatha, Gil, and Tarvek were. "I hope you three are doing something productive?"
Gil and Tarvek each held up their own insidiously dangerous-looking contraptions. "What, did you think we were just playing aimlessly?" Gil scoffed as he returned to work.
Agatha, meanwhile, was humming a strange tune as she and a swarm of tiny clanks worked on something considerably larger. "Give me a moment, I'm almost done!"
Glytch squinted at the shifting pile of metal before turning back to the two young men. "You're gonna cover her until she finishes, right?"
Tarvek nodded. "You get to your flyer. I'm rather curious as to how capable it really is."
Glytch grinned. "You are in for a show."

Glytch vaulted into his car and immediately began to set up for the battle: buckling both the primary and the secondary seat belt (creating a 4-point harness), engaging the cranial support feature to keep his head from flopping about, setting the turret to auto-fire and marking all of his allies to prevent friendly fire, and finally switching the overall mode to "Dogfight." The four main thrusters all angled themselves slightly outward to provide better instantaneous maneuverability, while the headlights retracted and were replaced by twin HelioWrath Cannons. Glytch also deployed the roof as well as protective secondary retracting armor plates that covered the side and rear windows. The hood split down the middle and opened to either side to admit a final armor plate that partially covered front windshield.
"Activate extended HUD projection. Launch Prometheus. Garrus, report."
A slightly growly male voice issued from Glytch's speakers as the Heads Up Display expanded to fill the blacked-out windows, restoring Glytch's view of the outside. "Enemy forces detected and weapons systems recalibrated to suit. Wardenclyffe Cannons set to fire consecutively at sustainable rate to prevent overheating. Awaiting input on Neutron Spear."
Glytch made a snap judgement. "Divert power from the Neutron Spear, split it between thrusters and HelioWraths. Prometheus, scan for a signal from The Behemoth."
Now a smoother, slightly British male voice spoke. "Scanning... Signal found. Link established. Precognition Subroutine active. Sending suggestions to HUD."
A red path appeared in front of the Pontiac on the HUD.
"Garrus, begin targeting with the Wardenclyffe Cannons and fire at will. Activate DEMP. Prometheus, do we have orbital bombardment support?"
"No satellites are in position."
The thrusters coughed as the turret unleashed a powerful electromagnetic pulse, directed at the approaching armies. Several large swaths of clanks fell immediately, but the remaining clanks were still overwhelmingly numerous. Glytch sighed. "Reconfigure controls to Warship." The steering wheel clicked as it locked in place and retracted somewhat. The gearshift retracted, and the turret control joystick folded down to where the handbrake handle went. The handle on the door clicked and sprung out a little, turning into a joystick with a trigger for the HelioWraths, freeing Glytch's right hand to work with the touchscreen and buttons.

"Showtime." Glytch shoved the joystick forward, and the Pontiac screamed into action, accelerating at the army at a breakneck pace. The speed triggered an adrenaline surge in Glytch, and time seemed to slow down as his brain sped up. However, he was still taxed to the very limit; the computer provided an enormous amount of data that he had to process nearly instantaneously in order to fly and fight effectively. The Prometheus program helped by giving suggestions and possibilities while also warning of incoming projectiles and charging energy weapons, and the Garrus auto-target program did plenty of work on its own with the Wardenclyffe Cannons, ripping clanks and missiles to shreds with the lightning chainshot. Still, Glytch broke out in a sweat simply from the effort and the stress of flying so aggressively, dodging and weaving through enemies and around explosions and energy beams and away from projectiles. The HelioWrath cannons fired beams of hypersonic plasma that melted, burned, and ablated material in their path, punching holes and cutting slices out of clanks and monsters and abominations of science gone horribly wrong or right, occasionally spawning a bolt of lightning as the air was ionized by the enormous amount of energy flying around. Occasionally, Glytch would gesture with his free hand and teleport himself and the Pontiac elsewhere, performing maneuvers that utterly baffled the opposing army's targeting systems.

"Hoy, that looks like FUN!" Oggie grabbed his poleaxe and sprinted out of the wagon towards the approaching army, followed closely by Dimo and Maxim. As they drew closer, the three Jägers bellowed "VE HUNT!" just before meeting the entire army head-on.
"Them idiots r gonna git themselves killed raht quick if they keep thayt up..." Greg grumbled as the other men in the wagon began to set the vehicle up for the impending battle.

Gil and Tarvek hardly paid any attention to Glytch in his Pontiac except to ensure they didn't shoot him out of the sky, preferring to focus on the task of defending Agatha and her swarm of little clanks. Gil was using a heavily modified Thermal Entropy Reversal Coolant System to flash-freeze the steam and other fluids inside the clanks. Boilers crumpled and imploded under the sudden loss of volume, lubricating oil solidified and stopped lubricating, and metal and rubber became brittle. Clanks seized up, then imploded and shattered violently. Monsters got a really, really bad case of frostbite.
Tarvek, meanwhile, was gleefully wielding what appeared to be a pair of conductor's batons that forced electrons under their influence to go where he commanded... In bulk. Lightning arced between clanks as one machine was robbed of electrons and deposited into another clank. As he directed the massive cloud of electrons to and fro, he collected more and more, to the point where he ended up with a well-trained pet bolt of lightning.
The two of them were counting dispatched enemies, each trying to outdo the other.
*KREEEEEE-KTHOCK-CRUNK-CRUNCH-GRUSHK-KTHOOM*
"EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! TWENTY! TWENTY ONE! TWENTY TWO!" Gil roared as he imploded one clank after another, his gleeful smile making more than a few monsters reconsider the virtues of constructive cowardice.
Tarvek, however, was performing considerably better at the moment, as his pet bolt of lightning ripped through clanks at an alarming rate. His counting was a good deal more calm, as he had to concentrate on balancing the power of his bolt with how much control he could exert on it. "Thirty three... Thirty four..."
The enemy army continued to encroach, slowly gaining on Gil and Tarvek, climbing over piles of their shredded, frozen, and electrocuted comrades. Gil's smile turned into a growling grimace, and Tarvek broke out in a sweat as they began to run out of room.
Suddenly, Agatha's mechanical abomination roared into action with an enormous belch of steam and smoke. She picked both of them up, deposited them roughly into a storage hatch in the suit's stomach, and began to cut a terrifyingly large swath through the horde, alternating between using an acidic pole axe and firing disturbingly green flames that didn't so much as singe the enemies, but rather covered them in a horrific green mold that ate pretty much anything voraciously for exactly three seconds. In just a few seconds, Agatha had taken down forty three enemies, but wasn't given the chance to increase her count any further...
The army looked up into the sky and immediately fled.

Glytch had ripped a hole in the army and had managed to make a damned nuisance of himself, leaving a scattered pile of ruined clanks and monstrous beasts on the ground below when the army broke off and abruptly retreated.
"Huh. That's concerning." Glytch looked around, then he looked up and spotted what appeared to be a particularly rotund semi-mechanical Balrog falling from the sky.
Prometheus sounded an urgent alarm. "Enemy EMP Charging!"
Glytch attempted to teleport away before the EMP hit, but when he emerged from the VORP, the Pontiac was completely knocked out. Glytch immediately grabbed the rear view mirror and gave a mighty pull, releasing a large parachute from the front and rear and both doors. Only once the chutes had properly deployed did Glytch start cussing profusely in a few languages as he began to manually undo the roof latch in an attempt to see below to teleport back into the fight.

Gil and Tarvek had barely adjusted to their rapid change of location when the lights went out in the room. "Well, that can't be good." Gil grumbled.
"We should try to get to Agatha, maybe we can get this thing back up and running." Tarvek was already on his feet.
"Right. How do you propose we get out of here? The only door goes outside."
"What of it? You can climb, can't you?"
*Siiiiigh* "Oh, sure, let's go crawling around the outside of a sitting-duck clank battle suit while an abomination of science is wreaking havoc outside. Why not?" Gil threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.
"Well, it's not as if we have anything better to do." Tarvek had already picked the lock and swung the door open. "Oh, dear."
Gil poked his head out of the door. "Good heavens..."

Oggie, Dimo, and Maxim were happily tearing clanks and monsters apart, smiling like evil schoolchildren playing with blocks, when their toys abruptly picked up and ran away.
"Hoy, Hy vasn't dun vit hyoo yet!" Oggie complained. "Hy still needs a toothpick!"
"Did ve scare dem all away?" Maxim looked around, casually holding a bleeding arm like a bludgeon.
"Hy dun't tink so, brodders... Hy vus vondering vere that vent..." Dimo was looking up with a pained expression. "Dis gonna hurt..."

Emily had no sooner mentioned her first aid kit when the Brigadier drew his pistols again and pointed them up at the sky. Emily reacted instinctively and did the same, but when she pulled the trigger, her rust ray did absolutely nothing. Brigs' guns were only slightly more effective, in that they actually fired, but the bullets, powerful as they were, bounced harmlessly off the thick, dense, and sturdy armor of the falling mechanical monstrosity. The steam rifle on Clara was hardly better, spalling the outside of the armor but otherwise not inconveniencing the huge clank in the slightest.
Em sighs, exasperated. "Well, that one's going to be annoying." But her brow furrows with worry.

Glytch finally got the roof unlatched and heaved it out of the way, only to find the battlefield was choked with steam and smoke. Without accurate knowledge of his own location, he couldn't really tell where the ground was, and he didn't have access to a global map accurate enough to use for teleportation as he did in his own universe. "Argh... I really need to shield all of my electronics, this is ridiculous..." Glytch grabbed his leather bag, took a few deep breaths, and jumped from the Pontiac, diving head-first at the ground.

Em looks up, to see Glytch falling from the sky. "God dammit! The fool has chutes on his vehicle, but not himself? She shrugs out of her leather labcoat, revealing a slim apparatus strapped to her back. She twists a knob, and brass wings unfold. They're elegantly engraved, each feather in loving detail.

Brigs took on an incredulous expression. "And you felt free to remark on MY tastes in ornamentation? While the wings of a peacock suit you perfectly my dear, you might mind your tongue next time!"
"...hush, you."

Clockwork whirrs, wings flap, and Emily is determinedly making her way to Glytch, in an effort to intercept his path.

Glytch would have scowled if the action wouldn't have opened his jaw and turned his GI tract into a ram air scoop. Instead, he ground his teeth and angled toward her in an attempt to shorten the time she was in the air over the rotund war clank, which had now landed and was beginning to unfurl. A great baleful red eye began to track her movements.
Oh no you don't! Glytch threw caution to the wind and pulled out of his dive and gestured, but teleporting another required larger movements than simply porting himself, and the wind tore at his arms and fingers. The teleport went off-target as Glytch began to tumble.
The Balrog's maw opened and an enormous and oddly dense-looking plume of fire came thundering out. Just before the blast slammed against Emily, it teleported backwards, up, and slightly to the side, and was now pointed only slightly away from Emily and Glytch.
Emily saw Glytch tumbling out of control and she pressed her wings to the limit. She caught Glytch and locked the joints fully open to slow the both of them down when the massive flaming projectile clipped her wing. The force of the impact twisted the metal and sent it into her arm, straining ligaments and breaking her radius and ulna, as well as sending the both of them careening diagonally toward a forest as opposed to simply falling.
Glytch wrapped himself around her and drew Emerauld's dagger, slamming it into a tree trunk. The pair spun around and down the trunk a full revolution before Glytch's grip failed and they spun off into a thicket. When they finally came to rest, Emily was alternating between choking back screams and growling and gritting her teeth. Her arm was bent in the wrong place in a decidedly wrong way.
Without a word, Glytch pulled out an extensive first aid kit. First, he placed thin gauze soaked in a gel that pulled heat from Emily's burns and soothed them. With a quick look around, Glytch then found a few sturdy but small sticks and lashed them to her arm, then used a larger one and used it to bind her arm securely to her torso, taking care to not restrict bloodflow. Finally, he took out a small vial and dumped it down Emily's throat, clamping her mouth shut until she finally shuddered and swallowed it.
Then, Glytch took out another vial and downed it himself and promptly coughed and wheezed as the vile-tasting liquid burned down his throat.
Almost immediately, his own pain and Emily's complaints faded away.
Glytch had to take several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak. "...Thank you for... Trying... To save me. You will stay here and not move at all whatsoever, do I make myself clear?"
"What if-"
Glytch drew a wicked-looking black dagger from a hidden sheath at the small of his back. Emily prudently shut her yap.
"I was getting to that. Use your good hand to hold onto this. It will keep you... More than invisible. This is why it is imperative that you say put." Glytch deftly reversed his grip and handed her the dagger. "Look, I know you don't know her, but I need you to protect her until I get back. She's a good person."
"Who are you talking to?"
Glytch pointed at the dagger. "Please."
After a moment, Emily melted into the shadows. "Thank you. As for you, Emily, don't you dare move until I get back." Glytch scampered up the tree he had used to slow their fall and wrenched his knife out of the wood and patted the bark comfortingly. "Sorry about that..." Glytch pulled out his phone and saved the tree's coordinates. "I'll put some good compost around your roots later to help you heal. Thanks for the assist." With that, he sheathed the bright knife and vanished with a *VORP*

Emily was not sure what to think about what she had just seen. The man had quite plainly spoken to the black dagger he had just lent her, and then he spoke to a tree. She wasn't sure if he knew something she didn't or if he was simply bonkers. As she pondered this, she noticed everything around her seemed darker. Shadows writhed and lengthened, drawing closer to one another and shunting aside the light.

...Probably a bit of both...

Unfazed by the battle going on around him, Greg calmly loaded the 54-caliber musket he'd pulled from the wagon's stores. With a long barrel and the accuracy of its design, he felt sure that this could solve the large Balrog problem.

Muttering to himself about "Dayum stupid folks 'n their flyin' toys..." he upended the musket, took a cartridge packet from his pocket, bit off the end and with the packet pinched to retain powder the packet was added to the barrel.

Looking again, he muttered "Damn big hawg - gonna need a load o' thumpin...better git at it right." He then took a second cartridge from his pouch, and after tearing off the end dumped the entire packet down the barrel - creating a huge powder charge. The packet with the ball was then rammed down the barrel, the huge ball nestling firmly against the powder charge.

He finished by dumping the pinched powder charge into the pan and slammed the lid on it.

Greg turned to the driver and bellowed, "Pull the whistle and tie the cord down!"

The driver looked at him as mad. "Are you CRAZY? That big 'n will see us and shoot!"
Greg was unfazed. "That there's whut I'm hopin fer...want 'im lookin this way. Now git at it!"

With a muttered prayer, the engineman reached for the whistle lanyard, yanked it and tied it down. The steam wagon slowed, part of its boiler output being wasted to atmosphere, and the piercing shriek of the huge whistle howled ovre the battlefield.

With that the Balrog pivoted, echo-locating on the noise. Musket propped on the windscreen frame, Greg waited...and waited...and waited...finally pulling the trigger and performing a last alignment of his aim as the powder flashed in the pan.

The Balrog immediately spotted the flight of the projectile, noting it was aimed at an armored point, and decided nt to intervene as the projectile came closer..and closer...

The impact was on the face of the projectile - on the armored 'Nose" bridge between the eye sensor sockets. The 300-grain prjectile SPLIT, and the armored surface guided the split half each to an eye sensor socket - which it penetrated flawlessly.

The Balrog spasmed - the loss of its optics a minor detail compared to the lead rattling around in its brain case, shorting, disrupting and shredding connectrions as they bounced around, finally coming to rest in a tangle of circuitry.

Down but not yet completely disabled, it thumped to the ground, rolling amimlessly side to side and in circles as what was left of its compting capacity tried to regain function over its abilities.

The Brigadier saw Em rise, catch Glytch, then the impact of the Balorg fireball blasted them both from the sky.

“EMILY! GODS, EMILY!” He holstered his pistols, and heedless of the danger, sprinted (quickly, for a man his age) toward the spot where he saw them fall.

The heathen’s knocking out the Balrog had disorganized the clank army, and they were milling aimlessly, some even getting crushed under the spasming monstrosity. Brigs, making his way toward the spot where they fell, was forced to shoot the occasional clank that obstructed his path, but strategic maneuvering on his part kept the number of incidents to a minimum.

“EMILY! EMILY! DOCTOR! WHERE THE DEUCE ARE YOU, YOU WRETCHED WOMAN!” Brigs shouted, nearly beside himself with fear for her, and concern for Glytch.

Reaching the spot he thought they had fallen at, he looked about. A tree showed a nasty spiral gash, but no remains of Dr. Lopez-Viktor or young Glytch were to be seen.

He called again. “EMILY! EMILY! DOCTOR!”

“Oh, DO shut up, Al – you’re bellowing like a bull calf who’s lost his mother in the herd.” Astounded, Al quiets – he sees nothing, but then nearly at his feet Em appears, dropping a wicked-looking black dagger to the ground.

“Em! EM! Are you all right, my dear – I saw you and Glytch fall – where is he?”

“He’s up and about – he splinted my arm – careful, there! And moved on. Then the big clank blew, and there’s been chaos since.”

Al gently knelt, touching the gauze swaddling her burns, and noting the rough but effective splint of the broken arm. “Broken mine that way – it heals quickly. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Stiff and sore, but no major damage. I suggest we make haste and depart in the confusion – Glytch told me to remain hidden, but I don’t think he expected your arrival. Shall we?”

“Do, lets.” Al drew one of his Webley pistols, loaded it with a full speedloader, and placed it in Doctor Lopez-Viktor’s lap.

“As I am going to have my hands full, ducks, I sincerely hope you can dispose of the wayward clank or three that I can’t avoid. Do you feel well enough to do that?”

EM sniffed haughtily. “I am not a frail flower of femininity, to be incapacitated by a broken arm and a few burns and bruises! I can certainly handle a Webley – and with access to your speedloaders we will emerge in fine fettle. Now, let me pick up that knife to return it to Glytch, and let’s be off.”

She claimed the knife again, quietly whispering 'thank you' as she does. Either Glytch is balmy, or it's sentient. Or most likely, both. It did keep her hidden. Gently Al scooped the Doctor into his arms, and set off at a good pace toward the wagons not too far away.

Recovering his companion and seeing her injured but safe seemed to have loosened the Brigadier’s vocal cords – he started with “What POSESSED you to take to flight in a clockwork gadget with NO ARMOR over a battlefield? Why didn’t you simply engrave the word TARGET on your wings and be done with it?”

“First off, sir, PUT ME DOWN. My arm is broken – my legs are just FINE, thank you. Anyway, did you not SEE our comrade in arms tumbling to his death after the clanks disabled his flying machine?”

Al continued, seemingly oblivious to her protests to be placed on her own feet. “You concentrate on the shooting, I will concentrate on the locomotion. Speaking of locomotion, do you or do you not remember that our young friend is a TELEPORTER?”

“…oh. Oops. Oh, bother.”

After a few seconds, still looking chagrined, she said “"Well....he usually just pops from one place to another. His vehicle sprouted parachutes, he was tumbling from the sky....I figured I couldn't take the chance that whatever knocked all his toys out of action didn't knock out whatever lets him teleport, too."

“Really.” The word, laced with sarcasm, slipped from the Brigadier’s lips. As he was about to reply, Em leaned her head against his shoulder, and suddenly the Brigadier forgot what he was going to say.

After a few seconds he remarked, considerably more softly, “Using your feminine wiles to win an argument..not sporting…not sporting at all…” as he held her a trifle closer, heading for the wagons.

Just as softly, but with a tinge of humor, she responds. "One must use every advantage when upon the field, mustn't one?"

Glytch raced back to the main arena, taking to the trees just as naturally as running along the ground, swinging and jumping quickly and quietly to avoid the now seemingly leaderless army of clanks and monsters, teleporting where he could to speed his progress. Any that did manage to see him didn't see anything after, dispatched quickly with his Jakob's Blade and a teleportation. On one occasion a tree itself tried to grab him, and he simply teleported it out of the dirt.
The tree let go and smoothed out the wrinkles in Glytch's overcoat with an affectionate pat.
"That's better." With that, Glytch put the tree back into the dirt. "Play nice."

Agatha was scrambling, trying to bring the various subsystems back online. She had only just managed to lock the joints to prevent her whole creation from toppling over. Just when she finally got the gyroscopic inner ears rebooted, she noticed Gil and Tarvek looking at her through the porthole with rather agitated expressions. It took her a moment to process the level of stupidity it must have required for them to decide to climb around on the outside of her clank suit.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE?"
They simply shrugged. Gil cupped a hand behind his ear and shook his head.
"Oh, for the..." Agatha threw a lever and the porthole popped loose. Gil swung it open and Tarvek squeezed himself through.
"WHY ARE YOU CRAWLING AROUND THE OUTSIDE MY SUIT?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, wanted to come help!" Gil barked.
"You were perfectly safe in the passenger compartment!"
"You got hit by an Aethric Pulse. We are sitting ducks until we get everything back online. You built this, tell us how we can help." Tarvek scanned the cockpit as he spoke and went to an auxiliary control panel.
"I'm running on backup power right now. I need you to get my main turbines spun up again. Gil, go to the engine room back that way and get ready to reverse-engage the ambulatory drive gear when I unlock the joints. Be ready to grab something, I'll be using gravity to bump-start the turbines. Tarvek, go with him and keep the steam system from blowing. I'll need to overpressurize the lines to get everything up to speed in a hurry. Don't let the pressure over fifteen Megapascals!"
Gil and Tarvek nodded and bolted for the engine room.

Glytch reached the edge of the clearing where the main battle had been occurring and looked up. His Pontiac was still safely high in the air. Agatha's clank suit was frozen in a half-stance. The wagons were still firing bursts at any pockets of roaming clanks and monsters whenever they strayed too close. The massive Balrog was writhing violently, shaking the ground slightly with its spasms.
Suddenly, Agatha's suit screeched and began to collapse. Then another screech and a sound of grinding metal occurred and the collapse slowed to a crawl as the gears redirected the force of gravity into rotational inertia and transferred it to the turbines. Finally, another massive grinding sound assaulted Glytch's ears as the turbines reached operating speed and the gearbox was thrown from reverse straight to drive. The clank suit quite literally stood at attention so fast it hopped into the air.
"That's a helluva sturdy transmission..." Glytch muttered as he watched Agatha's clank suit belch the mold fire at the Balrog's neckuntil it was entirely empty, eating away a large chunk of the armor. Then she grasped her corrosive poleaxe with both hands, raised it high above her head, and brought it down with a titanic swing that utterly drained the steam pressure.
The poleaxe sheared through the neck and sank deep into the ground. The joints screeched again as Agatha locked them again to prevent the now dead clank suit from toppling over.

"Whew! Well, I guess that's that..." Agatha leaned back in her chair, spun it toward Gil and Tarvek and smiled.
Tarvek kept their eyes on the Balrog, however, and their expressions rapidly changed from relief to horror.

Glytch saw the ruddy glow emanating from the severed neck of the Balrog and spun to see Brigs carrying Emily directly into the path of the impending blast.

The Brigadier and Emily arrived at the clearing and had only a brief moment of relief upon seeing the Balrog defeated before the slain abomination swelled and began to glow - the structure that kept the fire locked up tight had been weakened too much. Brigs dove behind a boulder and covered the doctor with himself as the immense jet of fire roared past. The rapid temperature change cracked the rock and welded it shut again, and the radiant heat from the flames would have been enough to broil the both of them... But the fire dissipated just as quickly as it started.
The Brigadier let out an explosive sigh as his muscles relaxed, and Emily began to grunt and clench her teeth as her brain once again remembered she had broken bones. "Next time you decide to toss me about, please try to remember I have a broken arm! You're lucky the young man knows what he's doing with first aid..."
"I'm lucky?" Brigs sniffed and took off his fedora and immediately scowled. "Blasted putrifying Augean residue singed my fedora!"
"There are other hats in the world. I'm sure the Jägers would be happy to find you a suitable replacement." Emily said, an icy note in her voice as the Brigadier picked her up again.

Glytch appeared with a *VORP* and let out a sigh of relief upon seeing them alive, then blinked and tilted his head. "Why are you carrying her?"
"He seems to have mistaken me for a non combatant." Em grumbles, annoyed and embarrassed at being seen in that position. "Charging into combat when I didn't need rescuing...then grabbing me when I was perfectly capable of locomotion."
The irony of her statement escapes her.
Slightly softer tone-"meant well, though-now will you PLEASE put me DOWN!"

Agatha, Gil, and Tarvek all stood in complete silence as they listened to the clank suit's armor cooling.
After a long moment, Agatha broke the silence. "Well... While I'm glad we are alive, we now have to figure out how to get out of here."
"What do you mean?"
"The whole thing just got welded shut."

Oggie poked the Balrog with his poleaxe. "Iz dead!"
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
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Dave
Posts: 7584
Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 5:58 pm
Location: Mountain View, CA, USA

Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by Dave »

GlytchMeister wrote:Gil was using a heavily modified Thermal Entropy Reversal Coolant System to flash-freeze the steam and other fluids inside the clanks. Boilers crumpled and imploded under the sudden loss of volume, lubricating oil solidified and stopped lubricating, and metal and rubber became brittle. Clanks seized up, then imploded and shattered violently. Monsters got a really, really bad case of frostbite.
Gil clearly knows his Talleyrand. Cold is a dish best served with vengeance.
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GlytchMeister
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Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by GlytchMeister »

Dave wrote:
GlytchMeister wrote:Gil was using a heavily modified Thermal Entropy Reversal Coolant System to flash-freeze the steam and other fluids inside the clanks. Boilers crumpled and imploded under the sudden loss of volume, lubricating oil solidified and stopped lubricating, and metal and rubber became brittle. Clanks seized up, then imploded and shattered violently. Monsters got a really, really bad case of frostbite.
Gil clearly knows his Talleyrand. Cold is a dish best served with vengeance.
...sure, let's go with that.

(I made references in this chunk, but I've never heard of Talleyrand...)
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
FreeFlier
Posts: 2493
Joined: Mon Oct 26, 2015 11:33 pm
Location: Land of the webbed feet

Re: Too Many Sparks

Post by FreeFlier »

GlytchMeister wrote:
Dave wrote:
GlytchMeister wrote:Gil was using a heavily modified Thermal Entropy Reversal Coolant System to flash-freeze the steam and other fluids inside the clanks. Boilers crumpled and imploded under the sudden loss of volume, lubricating oil solidified and stopped lubricating, and metal and rubber became brittle. Clanks seized up, then imploded and shattered violently. Monsters got a really, really bad case of frostbite.
Gil clearly knows his Talleyrand. Cold is a dish best served with vengeance.
...sure, let's go with that.

(I made references in this chunk, but I've never heard of Talleyrand...)
Talleyrand.

--FreeFlier
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