Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Update
It has been a while since I posted anything, but I hope to post this story idea I am doing some time soon. All I can say is that is set in an alternate Earth where magic dominates.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Up Olympus Mons part 2
The trek wasn't easy, especially since the Texan kept talking. Mr. Edgar Bronson, as I learned his name was, was getting bloody annoying. I contemplated pushing him back down the slope.
A noise startled George and he begged silence. For once the loud Texan shut his mouth. We hid behind a rock outcropping as five Martians wearing the armour of the Guardians patrolled.
I could see the glimmer of their sharp blades in the dim Martian evening. The Texan pulled out his revolver and fired into the head of one of the Guardians. The other Guardians turned swiftly and pulled their swords. The Martian weapons were humming.
One swung his weapon at me and cleaved the rock in twain. "You cheeky bastard!"
I brought out my revolver and fired into the chest of the Martian. The yellow Martian blood erupted and had an odd metallic smell not like the iron smell of Earth blood. One of the bearers screamed and dropped his goods and begged for mercy in the holy language.
The Guardian made an elegant move and took his head. The Texan turned and fired at the Guardian and killed him. One of the other Guardians made his move and barely missed the Texan's hand. The knife passed through his revolver like it was fine English butter.
"Sumbitch!" Was the cry of the Texan at the destruction of his gun. I dropped to my knees and grabbed one of the swords. The last Guardian screamed at the blasphemy of my touch of a sacred weapon.
I thrusted up into his chest, penetrating his six chambered heart. Blood gouted from his mouth.
I soon realised that only I, the Texan, and George remained. All of the bearers fled and left our goods.
To be continued...
A noise startled George and he begged silence. For once the loud Texan shut his mouth. We hid behind a rock outcropping as five Martians wearing the armour of the Guardians patrolled.
I could see the glimmer of their sharp blades in the dim Martian evening. The Texan pulled out his revolver and fired into the head of one of the Guardians. The other Guardians turned swiftly and pulled their swords. The Martian weapons were humming.
One swung his weapon at me and cleaved the rock in twain. "You cheeky bastard!"
I brought out my revolver and fired into the chest of the Martian. The yellow Martian blood erupted and had an odd metallic smell not like the iron smell of Earth blood. One of the bearers screamed and dropped his goods and begged for mercy in the holy language.
The Guardian made an elegant move and took his head. The Texan turned and fired at the Guardian and killed him. One of the other Guardians made his move and barely missed the Texan's hand. The knife passed through his revolver like it was fine English butter.
"Sumbitch!" Was the cry of the Texan at the destruction of his gun. I dropped to my knees and grabbed one of the swords. The last Guardian screamed at the blasphemy of my touch of a sacred weapon.
I thrusted up into his chest, penetrating his six chambered heart. Blood gouted from his mouth.
I soon realised that only I, the Texan, and George remained. All of the bearers fled and left our goods.
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Up Olympus Mons - part 1
It was a cold Martian day in the city of Tezt-Maral. The city was one of the Martian holy sites on the east slope of Olympus Mons.
"The size of my home state of Texas" loudly proclaimed an American I had the misfortune of travelling with. The one thing I can say about this blighter is that at least he is an American from the Confederacy and not the Union. The Union colonials are nothing short of bloody berks.
I was fortunate to find a guide willing to take a party up to the high peak. Most of these Martian savages consider it sacred as it was where the "prophet" of their debased "religion" ascended into "heaven".
Sheer balderdash!
Soon right thinking missionaries from the Empire shall pound the truth into their souls. Personally I do my duties to the Church like my duties to the Crown but I pay no heed to it myself but others should as it has a civilising effect.
The guide was a greedy little Canal Martian by the name of Gzorgin, but I renamed him George after a shepherd I once employed. He was short and green with those souless black eyes and jet black hair common to the Canalfolk. He spoke English in a horrendous accent probably taught by a Welshman. Quite possible as where he comes from had a large number of Methodist missionaries from Wales. At least 'til the mission was destroyed by Desert Martian raiders.
Members of His Majesty's marines still brag about capturing them and feeding them to the Barzath. Members of the debased Martian religion consider the barzath either unclean or sacred and believe that their souls will be lost forever if fed to one.
Ha! Using their savage relgion against them to confuddle their feeble minds. Now they fear harming any human in Imperial territory.
Anyway, we started our trek. Myself, the Texan, George, and our bearers.
To be continued....
"The size of my home state of Texas" loudly proclaimed an American I had the misfortune of travelling with. The one thing I can say about this blighter is that at least he is an American from the Confederacy and not the Union. The Union colonials are nothing short of bloody berks.
I was fortunate to find a guide willing to take a party up to the high peak. Most of these Martian savages consider it sacred as it was where the "prophet" of their debased "religion" ascended into "heaven".
Sheer balderdash!
Soon right thinking missionaries from the Empire shall pound the truth into their souls. Personally I do my duties to the Church like my duties to the Crown but I pay no heed to it myself but others should as it has a civilising effect.
The guide was a greedy little Canal Martian by the name of Gzorgin, but I renamed him George after a shepherd I once employed. He was short and green with those souless black eyes and jet black hair common to the Canalfolk. He spoke English in a horrendous accent probably taught by a Welshman. Quite possible as where he comes from had a large number of Methodist missionaries from Wales. At least 'til the mission was destroyed by Desert Martian raiders.
Members of His Majesty's marines still brag about capturing them and feeding them to the Barzath. Members of the debased Martian religion consider the barzath either unclean or sacred and believe that their souls will be lost forever if fed to one.
Ha! Using their savage relgion against them to confuddle their feeble minds. Now they fear harming any human in Imperial territory.
Anyway, we started our trek. Myself, the Texan, George, and our bearers.
To be continued....
Friday, February 25, 2011
In the beginning
This shall be a running commentary of the adventures of the 16th Lord Kilchester and possibly other unrelated tales of horror, sciencefictication, and whatever catches my fancy. Some tales maybe quite unusual as they shall be set in an alternate reality where technology diverged and space is not made up by the aether but is instead a vacuum. It is an unusual concept, but it makes for ripping yarns. Usage of the Babbage Engine has increased in recent years due to the Great Tapestry which connects the various engines. With the addition of electro-kinetic mirrors, this medium shall surpass Mr. Bell's invention of the telephone and Mr. Tesla's invention of the portable vocoder.
A chap I am acquaintenced with has said that it is possible to manufacture small Babbage Engines which shall connect to the tapestry through wireless. I should like to see one that is small enough to fit in the average room of a stately English manor myself instead of this behemoth which sits in the outlying region of my estate.
Lord Kilchester 25, February 1911
A chap I am acquaintenced with has said that it is possible to manufacture small Babbage Engines which shall connect to the tapestry through wireless. I should like to see one that is small enough to fit in the average room of a stately English manor myself instead of this behemoth which sits in the outlying region of my estate.
Lord Kilchester 25, February 1911
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