Idorgaf here, Whitetusk pilot extraodinaire.
When all your friends aren’t the most stimulating conversationalists, (cause they’re all dinosaurs), you don’t have much in the way of help when you decide to take to the skies. My dear old chap Orion the Argentavis and I followed the tried and true method of picking up our friend Taric (Pulmonoscorpius 305) after letting him know he was free to attack everything in sight. We brought down a ragged looking quetzalcoatlus after a three part chase. One part chasing quetzal, two parts chasing the god damned scorpion when I set him down to let Orion rest his wings.
Skip forward. Platform saddle crafted and slapped on Survivor’s back. (I will not tell you how many quetzal’s I have drowned or fed to hungry carnivores. . . ugh.) I’m determined to add a more robust aircraft to my fleet. Taric is ready to sting the world once more, and we’re off.
HOLY !@#!@#!!!!! Now, I am not one to bleep out my fucking commentary, so just understand I am this excited. This beast! A B52. A beauty. Red wings. Nearly a turokmaktao or however that’s spelled. (Wild 168 quetzal). We begin, Survivor’s weak wings pumping furiously to keep up. A few stings later, and our plane needs refueling. I stand up to let him flap. The wind whistles as Taric becomes Dodo Island’s first skydiving scorpion.
Fuck me.
By the time I find him after a resounding bellyflop and a merry chase after a parasaur or ten, we reconnect. I am done with this carry a chitin node and start thinking of alternatives. I have an epiphany. I park Survivor carefully and ride Taric off a rock onto his saddle. Then I weigh his saddle bags down with so many rocks he’s too stoned to move. I let him know he can smack anything he wants again. No movement. Achievement unlocked. Short range scorpion ballista. We take to the skies.
A while later. . .
Ragnaroc is born. And oh is he beautiful and robust. (12,800 health on tame).
I rule the skies.
Signing off,
Idorgaf
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