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| IDEA: write yet another collective steampunk story. GIMMICK: This one is post by post in this forum, and unlike campfires, folks can write out of turn. RULES: kindly don't include your sig so as to help with the flow of the story. EXECUTION: get to it. Every now and then I will write a short post summarising the story and characters so far to help keep it all on track. ------------ Wolfgang didn't need to be prompted. Wolfgang was a man of swift, decisive action. When Wolfgang wanted a thing, he sure as heck went out and grabbed it with both meaty hands, palms clenched hard. And if Wolfgang didn't like what he had obtained... if other people said, Wolfgang you should have waited and thought this out a bit more... well...Wolfgang had been known to grab /them/ ...hard...and squeeeeeeeeeze.... until the compression springs in his steam-powered arms overheated. Until the veins in his neck looked like pressure valves. Until steam itself seemed to propel from his cauliflower ears. Wolfgang had a steely glare and a grip to match, thanks to those mechanical limbs. Thanks, especially, to the intervention of the madly brilliant scientist Professor Maxim Guffendorflegogger: Wolfgang's own emotionally distant father. But right now, Wolfgang was about to change the course of his life, as he faced down the steaming behemoth bearing down upon him and the injured boy. Always a man quick to anger, always a man quick to be blamed (and rightly so) Wolfgang was about to become a hero... |
| Maybe. After all, if heroism was a sure thing who would find it admirable? Wolfgang hoped he was facing the fight of his life, the ultimate conflict, the apocalyptic finale of a life of... He stopped his thoughts. Bad habit. Too much thinking and not enough action. The steaming behemoth wheezed and whistled, great puffs of steam issuing from the many valves on its huge frame. It was so complex in appearance that it was difficult to ascertain it's purpose... if it had one. Maybe it was a Beserker, one of that class of machinery created only to wreak havoc. |
 50 GPs were sent to Thundersbeard 30DBC JULY HOST  with this post. |
| Wolfgang was a hard man, but even he felt the hackles on the back of his thick neck rise. |
| Steam blowing out of its shoulder area, and some kind of oil dripping off it below the belly, it centered on him. |
| Wolfgang grabbed the injured boy in his arms, flexed his powerful legs, and jumped onto the base of the behemoth, a ledge about 10 feet across that circled the behemoth. At this close a range the noise was horrendous. He shoved the boy into a corner of the giant machine that seemed safe, then ran around the base searching for the maintenance hatch that must inevitably exist. All machinery needs access to its innards for repairs and adjustments. But he ended up back where he started without finding a single door. Unfortunately, he seemed to have triggered some protective mechanism of the behemoth. Clockwork humanoids were beginning to appear and they all seemed focused on him. They came clanking around the base from both directions. But where did they come from? he thought. There has to be a doorway. |
| Our story so far: Our steambernetic protagonist, Wolfgang Guffendorflegogger, is on a mission of redemption. Formerly a bit of a thug and a pugilist (and the son of a mad doctor) he now finds himself facing an indescribably imaginative mechanical monstrosity that is bearing down on a lad laying on the road. He's got guilt, he's got grit, and he's got grime. It's time for him to shine. |
Wolfgang liked to fancy that he had a tool for every situation or he could turn something else into the right tool. He reached into the tiny pocket under his right arm. A paperclip swiftly straightened, He gram the wolf muzzle gave it a sharp twist to the right. It squealed as it turned but Wolfgang didn't hesitate, he plunged the paperclip into the wolf's eye. There was a click and the front on the behemoth opened. The machine halted. There was a gasp from the boy. High above him on a seat at the top of the machine was a... |
| was a small child, dressed in ill-fitting dungarees. In her left hand, now he could see the long pony-tail of blonde hair hanging lankly over the collar of her shirt confirming her gender, was an Armstrong Whitworth 1/2 inch spanner. The 1/2 inch spanner would make a good weapon for a child of her build. Then she dropped the oil covered tool... |
| Before Wolfgang could react to the to site of the small child piloting the steaming behemoth, he felt hands grip his rufby players legs. He'd forgotten about the humanoids rushing to send him to his doom. He swung around steam-powered fists raising above his head in readiness to dish out their comeupance. There were 7 clockwork humanoids in all. And they were not approaching nor threatening him. They just stood there, lightly clicking and whirring. Wolfgang looked between his legs, straining his balance to peer behind him. With his arms raised, double fisted to wallop enemies , he teetered precariously. It was the boy. The boy he rescued. The boy smiled up at him. Wolfgang frowned. "Bye" The boy pushed, and Wolfgang fell. |
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