The EMP didn't reach me, but the hell coming down on the "crater" might. I'm not taking any chances. I'm outta here.
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Random Nonsense
King of the mountain/hill/mound/bump
upon further calculation, I realize that a 20 mile radius might be too hopeful.
it's probably closer too 100 mile radius, considering the satellites weren't all clustered together, so will have a cluster bomb effect, and since almost every strike will be at least 5 times a normal kinetic strike, and some of them are actually nuclear powered, the fallout, blast waves, heat waves, and radioactive dust cloud should immediately destroy a 100 mile radius area, and then proceed to rapidly kill off another 100 miles worth, and kill another 100 miles worth over time.
YAY. our need to be fake king of a small geographic feature has doomed millions!
good thing I still have access to my wormhole network! I use it to get far out of the 300 mile radius death zone.
Hark, hurry up and escape, I don't think that dozer of yours will save you.
Wow! You guys are really good at this game!
You've got lasers and maps and brain implants and everything!
Mole people? Can I never be part of anything that isn't furry? I was hoping or Morlocks!
I am setting the self destruct system of the warp core on my bulldozaer to explode in 5 parsecs.
The self destruct is me hitting it with a hammer till it blows up.
I think this will take about 5 parsecs.
And dont tell me a parsec measures distance, if Han Solo says it means time, then it means time!
The mole people may or may not be a joke… and they don't have to be furries, just people who have been living underground for long enough.
The explosion of the warp core of the bulldozer gets directed upwards and outwards with such force that it creates an even bigger crater, but also pushes away the falling debris from the satellites back into space, saving millions of lives.
From the ashes of the bulldozer Hark rises, having gained super powers (what they are is up to Hark) from the warp energy. He must not be particularly happy about the actions Tiberius and Canuovea though…
"What is this?" Mel Gibson was reported to have said, "A British Good Guy with superpowers! That's illegal! Only Americans can be good guys who sacrifice themselves to save millions and gain superpowers! The Filthy Brits can't do that!"
This was, however, seconds before he was attacked and decapitated by a rabid mole person wielding a wild Tuna.
There ya go Hark. Now you've got the advantage!
These mole people may or may not exist and may or may not be furries…
Are these mole people of Schrodinger's cat people?
Fortunately my super powers may or may not allow me to become the mole person Jesus, which may or may not involve turning into a mole person and may or may not be really happening or may or may not be just in my radiation fevered imagination.
In this new religion I may or not have started, Mel Gibson may or may not be the devil.
Though Mel Gibson's racism remains beyond doubt even to possibly hypothetical mole people!
Well, given that Mel Gibson just got decapitated by a wild Tuna wielded by a Mole person… yeah, the Mole people are now officially the real deal.
And I think you just ruined their plans for world domination by preventing the satellite debris of doom from falling on the earth.
But they can't be all that bad because one attacked Mel Gibson…
Tiberius points out that Mel Gibson is Australian, not American, so some of the previous jokes don't make sense. He also asserts that the current Mel Gibson is not the one from the 80's that did Mad Max, it is a different Mel Gibson that is hateful and makes sub par movies.
I'll update the map soon, complete with Gibson corpse, warp crater, and a glowing superpowered hark. he may or may not get a nice hat with his powers which may or may not deal with quantum superposition, and probability.
I arrived at my secret base in a secret area that is impossible to find by any means at your disposal, except maybe just running across it.
From there I get my crew together and Launch my Battle ship (Line of battle Ship= Battle ship, Line of battle star ship= battle star, line of battle airship= battle ship)
I fly my way to the even larger crater, meeting more ships along the way, all armoured, all armed. From about 10 miles away, I begin shelling Hark. I also launch fighters to do strafing runs, and to keep any mole people at bay
is there a way to post files, I can show you a video of the airships. It's a 3d animation i made my self.
Hark tells the theoretical mole person worshippers about how Mel Gibson was born in America, grew up in Austrailia and then moved back to America after becoming famous and is an American citizen.
Tiberius' theory that mel gibson of today is a different and far shittier one (in every way) than the one who made Mad Max one and two is now official canon of the church of the theoretical mole people.
Soon the mole people will rise up and prove their existence (or none existence) to the WORLD!
This is going to get into nature vs. nurture. on one hand, he was born American (nature), but was raised Australian (nurture). Are we talking on legal terms, which would make him american, or cultural terms, which would likely make him more australian, or biological terms, which would make him irish/australian/american?
Let's call him and ask. anyone have his number?
Also, I have your area bugged, and can hear everything you tell the mole people. Remain where you are. the party committee will arrive shortly to pass out "cake", and "ice cream".
While the party committee gets to work "partying", I take the rest of the fleet and occupy the airspace over the hill, with regular air patrols, and a wide perimeter with my flag ship in the center, over the very large crater. Troops are landed and set about using the raised edge of the crater like a premade trench, and fortify them selves in with machine guns, mine fields, mortar emplacements, and the very close air support of the fleet.
The prairie dog corps (a corp. of sentient anthropomorphized prairie dogs) begin tunneling below the crater, making elaborate tunnels, with rooms for supply storage, command, subterranean defense, and any other facilities the army may need on the ground. there is also a 5 star kitchen, and a movie theatre.
from somewhere else an expedition into space is launched to assess the damage, and orbital status of the space arsenal, and whether it can be salvaged, and used to full capacity, or salvaged as a large piece of debris falling on my enemies, either way it's "salvaged".
Forgot about me?
I'll admit, the fleet was a bit of a shocker. Even I don't have quite that many resources.
However…
The fleet you dispatched to salvage the space debris stops responding and no contact with them is possible.
The communications within your flagship and to the rest of your fleet improve by approximately 10%. The problem with your state of the art energy propulsion system also decreases, leaving the ship functioning far better.
You also lose contact with your Prairie Dog Corp. I fear that may be the Mole People. Never know with those guys, always quick to… undermine… you.
I suggest preparing your ground troops for an assault from below, are they ready for that?
And this appears on your command screens:
This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down
This is not mine, of course, it is Tolkien's, but consider it a suitable warm up.
Or you can just look it up… after all, it doesn't count as my actual riddle because I didn't write it. I'll give a clue… The Hobbit.
Mole people are pretty intellectual (assuming they exist) dealing with issues of psychological issues of nature vs nuture or the possibily of themselves to both exist and not exist (or both…or neither.)
Being their god is pretty freaking boring!
I cant understand a damn thing they talk about.
I need to reattach Mel Gibson's head to a robot body so he can kill them for me.
the answer is time.
We all have our stengths
You have your many bolt holes, and your shrodinger's mole men.
Hark has a mole man cult (with a vast scripture about Mel Gibsons), and super powers that I'm sure are based on the heisenberg uncertainty principal in some way.
I have an empire. with vast resources, access to the top tier technology, and a surprising origin…
I follow Admiral Adama's lead and dismantle computer networks, so that I won't be brought to my knees by computer infiltration, good thing I have analogue back up systems just in case.
Something incredibly fishy is going on. all forces are put on high alert. not "watch for anything suspicious, and be on your toes" alert, I mean "We're probably surrounded in all 3 dimensions" alert. Flame throwers are brought out, shotguns distributed and bayonets are affixed. My ground forces are ready for close quarters warfare. Still… transport helicopters are kept on standby in case of evac.
The prairie dog corps. are fighters, I haven't lost hope on them yet. deep ground penetrating radar is employed to find out what is going on, and thumpers are used to transmit morse code down to the tunnels, to urge any survivors to evacuate to the surface. All prairie dogs are trained in morse code for situations like this.
Canisters, hoses, and pumps are brought down.
I Give an executive order that any observatories capable, to look at where the arsenal was, and report on what is going on in space. Keep in mind, attacking civilian targets like observatories, will be considered a terrorist act, no matter what capacity the civilians were acting in. Your already on thin ice, using a nuclear weapon on a hill, irradiating the landscape.
speaking of radiation, all the radiation is gone by this point. It got destroyed. that is correct, the radiation itself was destroyed in the cross fire. there will never be radiation in this area again, because the massacre is burned into the radiation's racial memory, and so they avoid this place.
The party committee arrives at the mole men cult of hark enclave, and lands. They pass out cake, and ice cream. The cake and ice cream taste like cake and ice cream. It's chocalte cake, and an option of either chocalate, vanilla, or mint ice cream. There's also a Gibson Pinata. A fun time is had by all. The party committee then leaves…
A few calls are made…
bases everywhere, including the non-secret ones, are put on alert as well.
A manhunt for Conuovea is begun, with a reward for any help that leads to your location.
Anti-missile defenses are installed to bolster the already capable defensive screen provided by the airships. this includes the systems for detecting missiles from 100 miles away, to the systems for shooting them down. Some of the mid range detectors work on visual identification, so they can still spot stealth missiles approaching. these systems were already on the airships.
I'll update the map when there's more to be seen. right now it's just one large crater, and a Mel Gibson corpse. The other craters, and tunnels were erased/collapsed by the warp core breach.
Do you know why we fight over this area?
I do. There is something there.
What is it?
It's an answer. Only me and my people know what that answer is, and it's not something we can tell you. can't be tortured out of us, or mind read from us. you can only learn, by controlling what was the hill.
You may have been attracted here by the geological surveys that showed that there was no way the land could be the way it was, or maybe it was the stories of the strange occurrences. what ever your reason, We're here, and we fight…
there now we have a reason for why we're fighting over an ex-hill
Analogue backup systems will not change anything. This is not a computer based attack.
The only thing that could help you here is the bayonets.
I never have been one for targeting civilians. You are the one using them for non-civilian purposes, but I don't mind at the moment.
The warp Bulldozer core overload must have done something to that radiation then…
"Can" "Canuovea." Not Conuovea. I'm not a simple Con man! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! It's a pun, get it?
Time is indeed the answer. And I am running out of it, it seems.
I came over to ruin the party. I like twisting rules and expectations. I only targeted the hill to change the game up a little bit, I intended to withdraw immediately afterwards but you forced my hand. The closer to finding me you come, the more you force it. It is pretty forced right now. Can-u force my hand more? HA! Another pun(ish)! Oh, dear me, I'm on a roll.
"I see nothing. But I do see you when you see me. What am I?"
Another warm up. Enjoy.
a mirror.
with no survivors coming out, I am left with the difficult choice of clearing the tunnels.
Hoses are put down every tunnel entrance, and sealed. The pumps are activated, and a mixture of multiple types of nerve gas+mustard gas are pumped into the tunnels. it will spread, and fill every part of the tunnel, and then fill any tunnels connecting it, seeping in through even tiny cracks. this effectively kills off everything below ground. everything.
Since the observatories have no answer for me (you would have told me if they did), It looks like I have an invisible menace above me.
I don't like this, so I'm accelerating my time schedule.
I send the backup group of prairie dogs down to finish what needs to be done. They are equipped with NBC suits, shotguns, flame throwers, melee weapons of various sorts, and an armed guard especially trained to deal with unknown threats underground. I also send with them unjammable communications equipment, and another little secret that not even death can stop from reporting in.
this group effectively counters any threat down there, that wasn't killed off by the ultra-gassing, and the diggers get to work.
more equipment is unloaded and prepared. the area is abuzz with activity.
A spy hunt is put underway as possible fix for the odd problems. An exorcism is also performed on all ships.
the manhunt is getting closer to can's location, soon He'll be found.
Well done. Not a whole lot to go on for that riddle, but fairly obvious. Mirror is correct.
Found? Hah! Found… You'll see found soon enough.
Exorcism? Really? I'm not the possession type.
You are in the command section of your flagship, if you were not there before you find yourself there now. The consoles go dead and communication with the outside world ceases.
I walk into the room, right hand with a fashionable little cane topped with a lovely little handle. Left hand holding a cup of tea.
"Lovely day." I say.
Your obviously competent guards open fire with shotguns and assault weaponry, but to no effect. "Stop it before ricochet kills someone." They do stop firing but commence staring. "Problem with some people is that they take orders too well." I chuckle and have another sip of tea.
"You must be curious about what has happened to your ship, no worries. It can be returned to normal quite quickly. We are no longer where you were though. Or, precisely, when you were." Another sip.
"Actually, the only space aware of what is going on right now is, well, this room. But don't worry, I will be quite happy to return all to normal, at my own pace of course. Yes, soon your pilots and soldiers and… well, whatever you want to call them, the digging things, will be able to go home all warm and… uh, fuzzy, inside."
"It is really all up to you, sir Tiberius. You may have an Empire out there, but in here you are just a man. All you have here are your wits and your will, and they will set you free." Tea again.
"I give my solemn word, should you pass my tests I will even the playing field… considerably. Answer me these three riddles, for this is when it really counts."
"First one:
I travel a never ending journey,
Walls stop me flowing freely,
When walls are broken I will depart,
And can hurt the weak of heart.
"I am quite fond of… wordplay. I would say that is the correct word. But since this is more than mathematics… I give you three chances for each question, and a clue or two on request. If you need it."
A smile slowly forms on my muzzle, and a few of the body guards chuckle. I surge forward, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, and shove us through the wall, with inhuman strength and agility.
You look back, there is no hole. there is no wall, and I'm not where I was. everything is white space.
from behind you you hear in a perfectly calm voice "The answer is blood, Mr. Canuovea…" You turn to face the new threat, reeling at your sudden lack of control in the situation. You see a white furred wolf, that is obviously the same one that just shoved you through a wall, but now I'm in a black suit, tie, and sunglasses, with an earpiece. "We've been searching for you Mr. Canuovea. You don't know why we've been searching, though you may begin to have an idea." I press against the ear piece, and say "finish the work, I'll call if there is any trouble" I turn back to you "When I said unbreakable, and unjammable communication, I meant it, Mr. Canuovea. I'm sure you have questions, so feel free to ask. Do not worry I will solve your riddles. I could leave another way, but that way… would be uncomfortable to say he least. Solving your riddles will suit my plans much better. Come have a seat." a series of different tables with matching chairs zoom by between us, stopping at a metal table with a mosaic of the world in the center. There are two chairs on opposite sides, and a third chair on another side. the other tables zoom away, and are gone. "You should know that we are both trapped here, me until I answer your riddles, and you until I go. there's no way around this, and there's not much else to do here, but talk."
mean while
Hark may notice a sudden alarm over at my area, but it quickly subsides, and work continues. Some sort of generators are being installed on the edges of the crater. Heavy equipment, and parts are being sent down to the tunnels.
in the center of the crater there is an area blocked off, and guarded by more men in black suits, ties, sunglasses, and an ear piece. Suddenly a pure black box appears in the center. It's black surface showing no details, light seems to not affect it. The men in black begin putting cables into it, tho there don't seem to be ports, or any sort of point on the cube that is not perfectly flat, and smooth. the cables just seem to go in.
as the last of the cables are plugged in, a klaxon sounds, and you see all patrolling aircraft return to their ships, and all but the flag ship moving away from the crater, having already taken up the ground forces. all that remains on the crater are the men in black, and the flag ship low overhead. As soon as all forces, but those remaining leave, the klaxon ceases.
A humming is heard, and felt all around. everything seems slowed down, except at the crater. It feels as if all the energy that should be there isn't, not like your tired, but that the energy has been relocated.
The space around the crater distorts. The earth shakes. The humming is in everything, and as it reaches it's climax, the crater disappears. an all that remains is a perfect indentation of a sphere where the crater was. It's like a piece of the world was simply removed.
in the distance is a dust cloud, made by a black SUV headed your way.
(note, I was already planning to do this eventually, but I wasn't expecting it so soon.)
(2nd note, Now's a good time to mention that all my forces are anthro's of some sort, majority wolves, because that's how I roll.)
"Very well done. Blood is the answer." I reply quite unfazed, though I was surprised for a moment, not out of fear though, I am more impressed than anything else. "Hurt the weak of heart, ha! Get it?"
"Ahem."
"Now," I sit, "this is really quite excellent. Though, I'm afraid that you cannot leave any more than I can. And we shall talk, it is an important component of reason."
I drum my fingers on the table. "Keeping with the theme of three, I have three questions." Oddly I've still got my tea. "Well, to begin with anyway. And I am certain you have your own, Sir Tiberius. Ask and I will answer." Sip. "Ah, delectable."
"But first, my next riddle:
I live less then a second,
Gods to me have beckoned,
Strong is my glorious song,
desperate, loud and long.
Surely this one should be easy."
"And the first of my questions to you: Who are you?"
There are other beings busy observing the situation, though nobody can see them at this time. I am also aware of the third chair, but am unconcerned at the moment.
(note: I am quite human in appearance)
Hark, you notice that as soon as you blinked the massive hole in the ground was seemingly filled in and is now completely flat ground.
You also notice that your holy war is going awry. It has an over abundance of holy, but a lack of war. Your mole men seem to have gained an interest in peaceful protest. Apparently there was much talk about Ghandi at the party. Also the cake, and ice cream may have been laced with a drug that inhibits aggression.
They've started passing a petition around. It has a very reasonable list of grievances, and a large amount of signatures. they want you to sign it too, and to visit their website where you can sign up for the news letter.
back to the white space.
"Belief, or faith is my guess." I say after what seemed to be days of thinking
I continue "I am Agent Tiberius, But I suspect that is not what you are asking. We are the Templars of "reality". We guard the integrity of all you see. Without us, society would have collapsed by now. We know, and guard secrets that no-one, but the few can know, for the good of the many. In days past we could afford more subtlety, but something recently disrupted the world, and we've had to be more active. To this end I was put in charge of forming a force to prevent the control of the "hill" by any other party. it's not the hill itself that's important. It is the relative point in space that it occupies that is important. It is secure now. My task force has successfully extracted that part of space itself to another area. We don't usually alter the mesh of space so drastically, but in this case, it was required.
There is much to tell. Our history, our motives, and of course the obvious question, that you might think you know the answer to, but you'll be surprised at how close, but wrong you are.
please take as much time as you like with your next riddle. In the mean time feel free to ask any question, but let us save the ultimate question for last. Not all the people needed are here, but they should arrive soon enough."
I reach my hand out and it disappears into the white. When I pull my hand back out, I'm holding a mug full of coffee.
(you are going to love the next few parts, trust me. I have a good story lined up.)
"Faith… Hmm. I do like the answer, but it is not what I had in mind. Something a little more literal. Well a lot more literal, quite physical in fact. Though I wouldn't quite say it literally "lives" per se… Have another go.
"You are correct that I was not looking for a name. Names are given things, not quite our own. Except when we choose them ourselves."
"My next question was to be 'what do you want?' But you have answered that already. As well as, ironically, the first question. You are, I believe, an, heh, agent. Agent of Order, as it were. I am not. Hercules and the Hydra, you are Hercules, those who strive for order and a measure of control, and in a constant battle to establish and maintain it against the… call them the hydra, things that work to destroy order. Metaphors work in this case."
"I am not actually opposed to this. Not entirely. I would not call myself an agent of Chaos. I don't really think like that. I am more an… oh, agent of… no, not agent, I don't work for it. Uh… Guarantor of choice and spirit. Guardian of, that works better. I am the antithesis of forced control. I'll tell you exactly what I am doing here… once you get the riddle right."
"But yes, I do wish to continue the discussion. Here is the next question: 'why?' What are your motives, yes, but also why they are important to you? Why do YOU do what you are doing?"
"Depending on the answer I may be willing to help you with this disruption of yours."
(I look forward to the next section quite eagerly!)
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