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Colostle: The Adventures of October O'Leary
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<blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 9303952" data-attributes="member: 11760"><p>He gripped the edge of the battlement, his human hand gripping the stone painfully, his mechanical hand actually causing the stone to crack.</p><p></p><p>What were those idiots doing?</p><p></p><p>His raiders were more than a match for the farmers from Shrub, which many of his raiders had once been, before their farms had failed. They had been easy to recruit into his army, even if few of them seemed to grasp his vision. But most of them had been happy enough to enforce his edict that the residents of Shrub and the surrounding farms must pay his “tithe” or see their homes and crops burn.</p><p></p><p>But terrorizing their former neighbors seemed to be the limit of their abilities.</p><p></p><p>At the moment, a boy mounted on a rookling was making a fool of them.</p><p></p><p>He had a sword, but he wasn’t actually attacking any of them with it. Instead, he’d ride in, whooping and hollering loudly enough to be heard even from the top of the battlement and a handful of raiders would chase after him, as he was riding just fast enough to stay out of reach but slow enough to convince this uneducated rabble to think they could catch up on foot. Then he’d ride down the hill, out of sight, and the exhausted raiders would follow and find themselves surrounded by farmers with pitchforks. Even at this distance, he could see them throwing down their spears and axes and surrendering.</p><p></p><p>And then the boy would ride up again, whooping and hollering joyfully, and the next group of his idiots would fall for the trick all over again.</p><p></p><p>Idiocy!</p><p></p><p>To think, he had hoped to build his empire with these yokels as his army!</p><p></p><p>Finally, the boy stopped, looking up at the battlement, his face flush with excitement. Even from here, he could see the sun gleaming off his broad smile.</p><p></p><p>“I think you’re out of bandits,” the boy called up. “Are you ready to surrender?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” he called down, trying to keep the rage out of his voice. “Are you ready to fight a duel to the death?”</p><p></p><p>“I’d rather not,” the boy called up. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”</p><p></p><p>As he spoke, the farmers stepped out from behind the walls, bows and slings and hunting spears in their hands. If he leaped down and attacked the boy, he might cut him down, and most of the farmers would miss him — but enough of them wouldn’t.</p><p></p><p>“No, I suppose not. What is your name, boy?”</p><p></p><p>“October O’Leary. What’s yours?”</p><p></p><p>“Orion O’Brien.”</p><p></p><p>His mechanical hand, made of scavenged rook parts, released the stone wall and began reassembling itself into a series of blades, fanning out from his wrist. He raised his hand over his head as the blades began to whirl rapidly.</p><p></p><p>“I’m going to kill you some day, October O’Leary.”</p><p></p><p>“Not today, though,” October called back, as the spinning blades lifted Orion off the ground and into the clouds above the bandit camp.</p><p></p><p>“No, not today.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Whizbang Dustyboots, post: 9303952, member: 11760"] He gripped the edge of the battlement, his human hand gripping the stone painfully, his mechanical hand actually causing the stone to crack. What were those idiots doing? His raiders were more than a match for the farmers from Shrub, which many of his raiders had once been, before their farms had failed. They had been easy to recruit into his army, even if few of them seemed to grasp his vision. But most of them had been happy enough to enforce his edict that the residents of Shrub and the surrounding farms must pay his “tithe” or see their homes and crops burn. But terrorizing their former neighbors seemed to be the limit of their abilities. At the moment, a boy mounted on a rookling was making a fool of them. He had a sword, but he wasn’t actually attacking any of them with it. Instead, he’d ride in, whooping and hollering loudly enough to be heard even from the top of the battlement and a handful of raiders would chase after him, as he was riding just fast enough to stay out of reach but slow enough to convince this uneducated rabble to think they could catch up on foot. Then he’d ride down the hill, out of sight, and the exhausted raiders would follow and find themselves surrounded by farmers with pitchforks. Even at this distance, he could see them throwing down their spears and axes and surrendering. And then the boy would ride up again, whooping and hollering joyfully, and the next group of his idiots would fall for the trick all over again. Idiocy! To think, he had hoped to build his empire with these yokels as his army! Finally, the boy stopped, looking up at the battlement, his face flush with excitement. Even from here, he could see the sun gleaming off his broad smile. “I think you’re out of bandits,” the boy called up. “Are you ready to surrender?” “No,” he called down, trying to keep the rage out of his voice. “Are you ready to fight a duel to the death?” “I’d rather not,” the boy called up. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a fair fight.” As he spoke, the farmers stepped out from behind the walls, bows and slings and hunting spears in their hands. If he leaped down and attacked the boy, he might cut him down, and most of the farmers would miss him — but enough of them wouldn’t. “No, I suppose not. What is your name, boy?” “October O’Leary. What’s yours?” “Orion O’Brien.” His mechanical hand, made of scavenged rook parts, released the stone wall and began reassembling itself into a series of blades, fanning out from his wrist. He raised his hand over his head as the blades began to whirl rapidly. “I’m going to kill you some day, October O’Leary.” “Not today, though,” October called back, as the spinning blades lifted Orion off the ground and into the clouds above the bandit camp. “No, not today.” [/QUOTE]
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