September 8, 2013

Swashbuckler with a Wrench: The Latest Chapter of DSD in Aquila

Hello! In July, I started writing a fan-fiction on Stormgate Pirates. Since then, it's grown to twelve chapters of high-paced adventure between my three characters with seven votes to boot! Here's the latest two-part chapter:

“Like I said,” Destiny stirred in her sleep, “You should take up engineering. You'd be good at it.” The voice of Mason Fox had shifted into something new and monotonous. Destiny lifted her head. She was laying on a metal grille and covered in sweat. She sat up and reached forward. As she coughed smog away, she felt the familiar twang in her vocals remind her of her disability. She sighed. Before her was a large piston, slowly churning and making a racket. Destiny covered her ears and stood up. She was sore everywhere. Just a few feet away was a rusted toolbox filled with shinier tools that looked used. Destiny slowly recognized them as Mason's own tools. With a soft squeaking in comparison to the piston, an unarmed Armada soldier marched into view.
“The panels of the skybridges have been loosened,” it explained, “and thus are falling apart. With the dexterity that you possess, pirate, the Armada will spare your life if you will dangle from the rafters and fix them. They are constantly breaking but finer materials were sacrificed in the cannon's favor.” Destiny nodded and wiped her face of dirt and grime. “You are in the fortress Beachhead. There is no escape. Goodbye.” Destiny waved the clockwork off. She was unarmed and weakened to the point of little thinking against the Armada. The panels which she walked on were squeaky and loose if she jumped. Destiny heard little walking elsewhere, though two sets of feet could be heard in the near distance. Destiny approached a fence closing off the edge of a walkway. She leaned over it and closed her eyes. She heard the footsteps disappear. Sighing to herself, Destiny began to work, leaning down and tightening screws and testing panels. One almost fell out, and Destiny had to dive onto another loose panel to keep herself from falling. Her hands quickly grew sore.
“They wanted an engineer, a pirate,” Destiny murmured, “What do they want with me? Just get them another robot and I can leave.” She tinkered further with the bolts and, once a panel had been secured, leaned on the wall. She wiped her brow of sweat.
-
“Warwick,” Brecken asked, “Do you see something up there?” Warwick barely looked up. His hands were covered in oil and he had gotten very scuffed up in the recent fights. Brecken, however, had taken in most of her blows with awe-inspiring resilience and skill. Brecken looked again.
“Warwick, that's Destiny!” Warwick did a double-take. It looked like someone was up there indeed. “Is she okay? DESTINY!” Destiny opened an eye lazily. She opened the other eye and rubbed the gunk from them. She stood up, waving wildly. “Like I said,” Destiny stirred in her sleep, “You should take up engineering. You'd be good at it.” The voice of Mason Fox had shifted into something new and monotonous. Destiny lifted her head. She was laying on a metal grille and covered in sweat. She sat up and reached forward. As she coughed smog away, she felt the familiar twang in her vocals remind her of her disability. She sighed. Before her was a large piston, slowly churning and making a racket. Destiny covered her ears and stood up. She was sore everywhere. Just a few feet away was a rusted toolbox filled with shinier tools that looked used. Destiny slowly recognized them as Mason's own tools. With a soft squeaking in comparison to the piston, an unarmed Armada soldier marched into view.
“The panels of the skybridges have been loosened,” it explained, “and thus are falling apart. With the dexterity that you possess, pirate, the Armada will spare your life if you will dangle from the rafters and fix them. They are constantly breaking but finer materials were sacrificed in the cannon's favor.” Destiny nodded and wiped her face of dirt and grime. “You are in the fortress Beachhead. There is no escape. Goodbye.” Destiny waved the clockwork off. She was unarmed and weakened to the point of little thinking against the Armada. The panels which she walked on were squeaky and loose if she jumped. Destiny heard little walking elsewhere, though two sets of feet could be heard in the near distance. Destiny approached a fence closing off the edge of a walkway. She leaned over it and closed her eyes. She heard the footsteps disappear. Sighing to herself, Destiny began to work, leaning down and tightening screws and testing panels. One almost fell out, and Destiny had to dive onto another loose panel to keep herself from falling. Her hands quickly grew sore.
“They wanted an engineer, a pirate,” Destiny murmured, “What do they want with me? Just get them another robot and I can leave.” She tinkered further with the bolts and, once a panel had been secured, leaned on the wall. She wiped her brow of sweat.
-
“Warwick,” Brecken asked, “Do you see something up there?” Warwick barely looked up. His hands were covered in oil and he had gotten very scuffed up in the recent fights. Brecken, however, had taken in most of her blows with awe-inspiring resilience and skill. Brecken looked again.
“Warwick, that's Destiny!” Warwick did a double-take. It looked like someone was up there indeed. “Is she okay? DESTINY!” Destiny opened an eye lazily. She opened the other eye and rubbed the gunk from them. She stood up, waving wildly. 

“I think not,” a voice cooed from just feet away. Brecken and Warwick turned back to be staring up the barrels of armada sparkshooters. Taking a peek back towards the balcony, Warwick found Destiny to have left.
-
“You've seen enough,” Destiny thrashed in the grip of a clockwork marine, “You'll find yourself more useful where better thoughts are consumed.” Destiny found herself being dragged towards a staircase. She, after laying still for a crucial moment, snapped out of the marine's grip and bolted through Beachhead. The stomping of clockworks only grew louder. Still attached to her waist was a wrench that she had used. Brandishing it carefully as she ran, Destiny darted back out towards the walkway. She caught her breath once there, finding Warwick and Brecken gone. She had been too late. Destiny heard bickering from some distance away, though – Brecken's – and her fists clenched. By this time, the clockworks were standing in the door.
“Nowhere to go,” the marine said, “Nowhere to hide. Come quietly, Drang.”
“How do you -” Destiny stammered before catching herself. She looked over the edge of the balcony to see the large piston churning above her and then dangerously below. She turned back to the clockworks.

“This place is rather nice,” she mentioned, running her hand over a panel, “You know why you can't have nice things?” The clockworks stood silently, as if waiting for her answer. “I'm why.” Destiny leaped off of the platform, landing on the top of the moving bit as it fell. She ran off of it and onto the panel where Brecken and Warwick had been seized. She took off, refusing to give the clockworks a second glance. 

Keep Traveling!

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