This was a post on a different forum that I visit:
quote:
Shanty:What we need is a House Olon noble or something that enables mechanics to make metal mechanisms at forges and activates a new mechanics-task: create construct! Massive living statues that act largely like dwarves (can be set to tasks, drafted to the military), except they work tirelessly with no need for food or sleep. Their skill in just about everything can never increase and is proportional to the mechanics skill of their creators and their material.
Plus, the less skilled the mechanic who created them, the more likely they are to bust a gear and malfunction (not unlike the effects of a failed Fey Mood: murderous beserker rage, running around making grinding noises) or stop working all together.
Of course, they'll be there years and years after the fort has been abandoned. Imagine looting your old fort and meeting that masterwork adamantium colossus you thought would speed up syrup production while allowing the farmers more time in the kitchen, except now he's lost a few nuts and bolts and wants to take you to the farmer's workshop to (l)process to barrel.
Or maybe the five iron men you made for guarding the front gate against goblins are still trudging up and down out there, ten years after the fortress was abandoned, and unlikely to look kindly on nosy adventurers.
This is my own contribution to the idea:
quote:
My own story:The dwarven adventurer Mebzuth Niltan finds himself injured and surrounded on a narrow bridge crossing a deep chasm in an ancient abandonned fortress. As the batmen are clossing in, he fears this is his end. In his despair, he does not hear the solf tick-tick-tick-tick coming from the dark, but he soon cannot ignore the nearing clanging of sheet metal scraping against sheet metal.
He turns his head just in time to spot them coming out from the dark across the bridge. It is a trio of mechanical golems! Tin dolls half a meter high, they're faces are molded in the facade of an smiling dwarf. Covered with the rust of countless years, they dutifully march forward on graceless legs.
The batmen step back, unsure of this new threat. The Mebzuth stares in wonder as each machine raises a hand toward the batmen. From the palm of each tin hand fires a single bolt, two of which sink into the chest of an unwary batman, while the third slams harmlessly against a stone pillar.
As soon as his comrad fell, another batman ran toward the golems. He got hardly four strides before a second volley of bolts peirced his shoulder and wing, and in his pain he tumbles over the ledge. The remaining batman soon flee.
Mebzuth Niltan watches silently as the miniture soldiers turn and retreat back into the deeper depths. He stares curiously at a small iron bolt, lying at the base of a pillar.
This is just yet another idea for a useless bloat that would be awesome.