Klowd's Place

Building Steam

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 07:00:29 GMT

It had taken some time for the people of Keeper's Gateway to become accustomed to the ship that floated just outside the many-walled fortress. It wasn't just the irregular design of the ship, a sleekly built thing of such ancient material and yet so much more durable than most any ship of their day. Granted it was an impressive looking thing, glimmering in the sun with outstretched sails that were rumored to have once been the leathery folds of dragon wings. No, what was astonishing and abnormal about the ship was that it did not float in water but in the sky.

The Aeir'ekkys, as it was called, was the last of the Atlantean airships. In the Sunken City's prime, this was the king's flagship, sailing through the sky at the head of mighty armadas of great aerial warships. Unarmed, the ship was designed to be light and swift, able to carry its king away from diplomatic meetings gone awry. Of course, its last king was capable of far more destructive force on his own than his entire fleet was combined.

Aboard the deck stood a man of many colors. His hair was bright and pink, his tunic as blue as the sky and the cape slung over his shoulder so brilliantly yellow it angered the eyes. But his smile was always genuine and his temper rarely raised. This was Captain Cidariko Tamoris, former chief engineer and commander of the Atlantean air fleet. He looked out across the mountains that flanked Gateway's sides, and his lips turned to frown. From behind him a hand fell to his shoulder and he turned with a start. His surprise gave way to a quick bow of his head, one hand raising in an old and forgotten salute. "Dyn Kha'radas. I was not expectin' you."

Ganatal smiled and returned the salute. Like the airship, they were the last of their kind. "You know you need no formalities with me, Cid."

"Aye. Old habits are hard to break. You are still my king, whether you hold the title or not."

"As you say."

"Your wolf not joinin' you up here today? He seems t' have taken a liking t' visitin' the ship. Can't understand why..."

"Sharn's been spending his time lending a hand helping Treyp recover. Sometimes I really just don't get him. One minute he's a beastly killing machine, and the next..."

"And the next he's still the same, only not so busy with th' killin'."

Ganatal shrugged and approached the ship's rail. He looked out just as Cid had been earlier. "She's resting lower today."

Cid nodded. "Aye. Been holdin' back on chargin' the core. The Orichalcum stores are starting to run low and before too long..." He didn't feel it necessary to finish. His king would know the consequences.

"We'll need to set her down at sea. Give her a full anchor."

"Thinkin' the same thing. We'll need t' keep the Orichalcum in reserve for when the ol' girl is actually needed."

Ganatal gave a nod and turned around to lean his back against the rail, bending himself enough to produce an audible pop from his spine before stepping away. "If only there were some other way to produce Orichalcum."

Cid sighed. "'Twas Atlantis herself that gave us that. Her place in this world and all that' went with her." He shook his head. "If we're t' keep the Aeir'ekkys skybound, we'll need t' find another source o' energy t' give her wings."

"Another source of energy..." Ganatal stroked his chin in thought, but it was Cid who jumped in first.

"I've... Been experimentin' lately. Workin' on some means o' new engines functionin' similar to the ol' Orichalcum drives."

Ganatal lifted an eyebrow.

"Seems boilin' a pot o'water is enough t' power a small engine. Get a full boiler goin', large sized an' all, an' you might just get a full ship t' go."

Ganatal laughed aloud and swatted his friend on the back. "You're talking about steam, Cid. Steam. You're crazy."

"It's a plausible idea, my dyn Kha'radas." Cid shot him a grin. "I think I could make it work."

With a smirk, Ganatal turned to him. "Alright. I'll put you on that. Get the Aeir'ekkys out somewhere safe and start development on a steam-powered engine. If you can get a single-man unit running, we'll get to work redesigning the ship."

Cid's grin grew broad. "I'll be needin' supplies."

"Whatever you need, just ask. I'll see you have it. I can't imagine water would be too difficult to obtain."

"Many thanks, dyn Kha'radas."

Ganatal smiled and clapped both hands to Cid's shoulders. "Just get the old girl a new heart, Cid. Keep her alive for as long as you can. That's all I ask."

Sense of Duty

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 10:29:01 GMT

((This story ties in with the Dryad Eyes posts by davatkins))

She stood before him, green eyes piercing, black hair pulled into a high tail. She had dressed as a warrior, clad in the leather armor of one prepared to go into battle. At her hip hung a scimitar, the most widely used blade of Isilnocc. With a single step she brought herself to him, her hands with skin the color of sun darkened gold, just as his own, lifted to caress his face. She smiled, raised herself on her toes to bring her lips to his and screamed with agony as an arrow tore into her back.

The woman fell from his arms, dying, and he could do nothing. Nothing at all. His hazel eyes looked up, catching the archer who had taken away his love. His hand reached for his dagger, the silver-bladed weapon glinting in the desert sun as it escaped its sheath. One step forward, another, he brought himself slowly toward the archer. The man readied another arrow, fired.

A warrior fell dead, the arrow pulling blood from his throat where the shine of armor failed to protect. He looked into the fallen warrior's familiar face. Another friend, gone.

A third step. A fourth. A third arrow came at him.

The fluttering of robes heralded the next martyr. The sorcerer dropped at his feet, blood seeping into the sand. He felt sorrow, though he had barely known the man.

A fifth and sixth step brought him in range. The cloaked archer stood before him, face concealed behind a mask of wood painted a deep blue. The silver dagger flashed and struck, digging into the cold heart of his enemy. The mask fell and the black bearded face of hatred stared back and spoke.

"They die for you. They all die for you." The bearded face transformed, morphing swiftly into his own. "Coward," the doppelganger said. "You ran and left them to die. Coward."

He struggled as the doppelganger reached for him, hands clenching at his throat. He flailed wildly as stars appeared before his eyes, then dimmed, then all was black.

With a thud Matthew awoke. He lay on the floor beside his bed, blankets pooled around him as he struggled against his dream. He groaned and sat up, one hand going to the back of his head. There would be a lump there, he knew. With another groan he stood. There would be no more sleep for him this night.

He had crossed to his window, only a bare view of the mountains that closed the sides of Keeper's Gateway, when a knock came at his door. Matthew cursed to himself but called back "A moment!" before moving to dress himself. When he unbarred the door and cracked it open, the servant that waited bowed a head in greeting.

"What?" Matthew said. He had no desire to be bothered at this time of night, especially after another of what had become a series of these nightmares.

The servant bowed his head again and produced a rolled parchment, tied with a bit of ribbon. "A message, sir. I was told it was urgent."

Matthew snatched the paper and unrolled it, eyes quickly scanning the words inked there. As he read the brief note, the color faded from his face, his eyes widened. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Treyp..."

Now in Tangerine!

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 08:56:41 GMT