a torn, fire scorched engineer's ledger

[lonnarin]

*mostly filled with catapault specifications, golem & gyrocopter designs and recipes for good turnip pastries.  In between it all and strange mathematical formulas are a few personal notes*

Under "Biology: Variant species"
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Most interesting place this Hlint.  It seems that just about every race imaginable lives here.  When I first arrived via the catapault ride from Waysend, I stumbled across a huge giant of a man in a loin cloth chopping wood.  I've come to classify his speciation as Giganticus Cuddlehuggis, as he seems far friendlier than the common variety of the giganticus genus.  Quite like their bigger hill giant cousins, they do appear to have a lack of patience and understanding of linguistics too far detached from the monosyllabic.  He also had deficites in understanding time, as when I assured him I would get started working on a sword, he expected it to be finished within 2 minutes, before I'd even written the blueprints up!  Still, he was nice enough, and a fascinating specimen.  I will make certain to someday craft a greatsword big enough so that only he could use it two handed!  He didn't appear to have a shield, so putting more leverage into the focal point of the hilt with two hands would seem far more effective for him.

*the text then rambles on about theories of giantkin evolution, with sketches of an aboleth, a dolphin, a seal, a sea otter, a puppy, a goblin, a troll, a hill giant and finally to a sketch of Half-Giant holding up a two hander shouting "Duur Goot!", all in evolutionary progression.

Biology: Unforseen Optical Catalyst
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On the way back from the clay fields I came across a carcass of a dead ox.  The poor thing looked hacked apart by those savage mercenaries, likely just for sport.  Well, it did come as a slight relief to me that I would not have to kill an animal to harvest its parts for components, so this became a rare opportunity, I decided.  I bade the deer to go into the deep forrest where they would not have to watch and took out my skinning knife.  Even though he was already dead, I certainly did not want to see it, so I looked away as I pulled it out. "ah well friend ox, at least now your death will mean more than the slavery and servitude under humankind" I thought, ready to give him meaning in the persuit of science.  Unfortunately, as I was not looking, I pulled a vial of enchanting oil from my pack and dropped it in.  Only the next morning did I realize my mistake...

With a large crack the bottle shattered on the laboratory shelf.  It seemed that the enchanting oil managed to engorge the eyeball to such perportions that his volume exceeded that of the vial, and it had grown tentacles with small bulbs that moved.  Fascinated, I initially suspected that the tentacles were a form of fungus or quasi-plant matter like an assassain vine, but then it turned about and gave me a look which chills me to this day...

"Where am I, fleshy protien?" It asked...  a talking eyeball?  Was I mad?!  But no, it hovered there with a jaw full of teeth... hovering! in the air!  I of course hit myself in the had with a wrench to make sure I was not dreaming, but all the same, he floated and glared.  I introduced myself and told him of my laboratory, and he seemed to laugh a little, but in a way that made me uncomfortable.  In a rush I explained the workings of my laboratory, and he was most interested in every little detail.  He read each of my books on every science imaginable, (how he knew how to read already was a mystery to me) and since then has even offered a few insights on the nature of rays in magic and light refraction.  I named him Quimby, after my great grand uncle Mortguvious Flaxor-Skink Hapinhaver, who was never really named Quimby but we always used to call him that.

But then days later, when he said he'd be out on the town to go sightseeing, he left behind his eye drops.  He has a problem where crust builds up in his central eye, which he seems to be unable to clean himself.  The bulbs that became eyes on the ends of his tentacles, he seems to have no difficulty reaching, as he tends to suck on them to help him think.  So I dashed out the door to find him, asking the townfolk where they had seen a floating 5 eyed test tube baby.  Predictably they seemed confused and asked me if I had been drinking, so I continued on in my search for the little eye.  One rather rude man in  kilt answered that my mom was a 5 eyed test tube baby, and only laughed harder when I insisted that was not the case; I am the FATHER of a 5 eyed test tube baby!  Such drove savages in this town.

When I rounded the Blacksmith's shop, I noticed a shout from a feline youth calling out for it's mommy, and then a gurgling noise and silence...  To my utmost horror when I rounded the bend, was Mr. Quimby devouring a poor defenseless Hlintian pond kitten!  I set loose with a swift regiment of frost rays, which stunned him long enough for me to rush up hasted and pry his jaws open.  Out sprang the soggy cat, a bit scuffed and scarred but still mostly ok.  "No no no no NO! We do not eat kittens!" I screamed at him, trying to hold him still as he lunged at the cats, "We do not eat the Hlint pond kitties, they are our friends!"

Finally after a brief struggle, he subsided and allowed me to bring him back to the laboratory.  I placed his saline solution bucket in the corner and made him soak for a good hour and think about what he had done.  A bit harsh, I know, but if he starts seeing sentient friendly creatures as food, he's going to be very maladjusted when he grows up.  Strangely enough, the bubbles from his bucket suds sounded a bit like laughter, but it is far too soon at this point to determine which emotional states a floating eye is capable of. I suppose this is all part of the joys of fatherhood...

[lonnarin]

Engineering: Draconic Golem
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I've finally devised the perfect and most IRONic *and yes he does draw the smileys* way to deal with Bloodstone! (or rather should I say, "platinumonic")  I remember from my flight from Waysend, seeing a deep ravine somewhere along the way.  It did look horribly dessicated and overly worn from battle, bereft of good resources, but it did have onbe thing... well many things the same.  Dragon Bones!  Now, theoretically, the dragon is the strongest and most ancient of all aerodynamic predators, a true form of skyfaring destruction as any other.  This, largely, I attribute to 4 key factors, which are as follows.

1) Size *in dwarven flagons, (the universally accepted unit of measure for tinkers and dwarven smiths) it can easily measure more than 3 thousand!

2) Power *Capable of lifting 40,000 Turniptures (unit of measure based on the ideal size of a fresh springtime turnip) and of throwing an ox for over 400 wagons of distance! (yes, wagons)

3) Fire Breath *can melt copper and bronze, which reach ideal smelting temperatures of 280 and 326 mephit scorches. Iron which melts at 550 ms can only stay 6 or 8 clockticks before be rendering useless.  Platinum and Adamantium on the other hand, stand up proudly to it in full blast, and they have a documented mephit scorching of at 720 and 802.  That would place a dragon's breath at around 620-650 ms, a powerful blast indeed.

4) Terror Index *relative to the sum of Size, Power and Fire multiplied by it's number of reputed kills (est. 4,258 per dragon lifespan of sentient beings, as of the most current census), divided by 100.

(3,000 dwarven Flagons + 40,000 turniptures + 650 Mephit scorchings) * 4,258 kills / 100

eguals a total terror index of 185,861.7! the standard goblin is at about a 10, slightly above medium sized dogs and pinchy children, and all three of which are lead causes of death in Gnome populations.  To harness the power of such a thing, the plan I devised is BRILLIANT!

I shall take the bones from that graveyard and make clay molds of them to exact size and shape.  After which I will then pour in approximately 800-1000 ingots of Platinum, a study metal to withstand scorshing heat.  Then I will let it cool and have an exact replica of each of it's bits and parts, to assemble into one great platinum dragon skeleton!  This natural form of the dragon should be very aerodynamically suited for flying, once covered with an impenetrable carpet of lightweight mithral scalemail, sealed airtight and encased in leather.

In it's belly I shall have a furnace, one that boils vats of water that steam up through spinning encased water-windmills which should make for a steady, flapping motion when it causes the gears to turn.  But what of coal you ask?!  hahaha, of course coal is FAR too heavy if we want this mechanoid to become airborne, so I propose that we fill the furnace with amorous fire mephits or azer to steam things up.  I have pinpointed the perfect aphrodisiac, saltpieter and burnt hair.  It seems to drive them mad with unbridadled scorching lust, but I digress..

*he then goes off into rambling descriptions of mephit mating, which takes up about 16 pages in itself, and forgets to complete what he was writing*

*a few various sketches of skeletal construction, tables of required smelting temperatures and lists of names to call the behemoth scatter the pages.  Of the names, all are crossed out except for "Bahamuvious Rex", "Mogarth the Burnintaberiffic" and "Mecha-Gadzooka".