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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