I do want to note Clock, its humans only. I want this to be more Pseudo-Earth rather then fantasy
I do want to note Clock, its humans only. I want this to be more Pseudo-Earth rather then fantasy
I do want to note Clock, its humans only. I want this to be more Pseudo-Earth rather then fantasy
<Snipped quote by duck55223>
*Silently shelves plans for communist neko prettyboy*
one day.
<Snipped quote by Ophidian>
"We must free the kawaii from the chains of capitalism and let the massive have unrestricted access to kawaii and nekomimi!"
Tech wise, we're talking heavier-than-air flight, mechs and steamtanks.
Also, steampunk gatling guns.
*quietly orgasms*
Communist Neko Australians.
They shall be my mecha-tanks.
They will know only war.
They will feed upon the blood and tears of the bourgeoisie.
They will be the iron will and steely muscle of the people.
In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed.
They will be the people's bulwark against Terror.
They are the Defenders of Communism.
They are my Mecha-tanks and they shall know no fear.
You don't understand. When I say steampunk gatling guns, i don't mean steampunk gatling guns like you're thinking...
I'll just let this peice of writing detail it for me:
Four-barrels of empire-forged brass-titanium composite capable of putting out ten score bullets per minute in the direction of whatever poor fucking sod was at the other end of it. Armour-piercing, mercury-tipped, hollow points, every concievable type of ammunition could be hooked up to the spinning barrels and sent thrumming towards your enemy in a deafening drone of firepower.
Hamberly picked up the machine, the two handles smooth and polished from use, and gently rotated the barrels, before shrugging on the thirty-pound backpack that was needed. Carefully, he unrolled the length of bullets, the brass tumbling through his fingers and slotted the length into the side port, before taking aim at the dummy across from him.
A soft whirring sound started up, building in intensity until with a throaty growl he first bullets were spat forward. Each explosion propelled the intensity of the next, and the barrel started to heat, each thump heating the barrel up more and more until he sat it down, the steaming metal hissing upon contact with the damp earth, the dummy now nothing more than a few stray whisps of grass, splinters splayed across where the figure had stood.
Zaskar's tech....
Well.
<Snipped quote>
<Snipped quote by Ophidian>
I bet a 6-pounder that they actually do know fear.
Currently on my Laptop, so I can't make claims. When I'm able to I will lay claim to an area on the map.
Prepare for a NotOrthodox Church!
Currently on my Laptop, so I can't make claims. When I'm able to I will lay claim to an area on the map.
Prepare for a NotOrthodox Church!