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Dr. Dinosaur’s Journal: Summer of the Raptor, 188X

The Klaw hovered over the Fells as the airkraken flew by, Most left the large airship alone, apparantly mistaking it for a larger aerial predator.  The larger ones however were flying by and attacking, occasionally plucking mecharaptor’s off the deck.

Dr. Dinosaur  arrived on the top deck, as the ship’s tesla cannon were firing, and mecharaptors ran back and forth, some shooting tesla guns, some biting at the tentacles that came too close, others diving off the deck at airkraken and…a cat statue held up by baloons?  The Raptor didn’t seem to notice as he shouted orders to the raptors and drones, occasionally firing at an airkraken himself.  He looked breifly at the small baloon with the basket underneath landed near the rear, and began heading towards it to examine it, when one of the airkraken started wrapping tentacles around a propeller strut.  Distracted, the Raptor fired at it, and motioned a team of mecharaptors to aid.  

The Kraken finally let go of the propeller strut, and drifted away from the aetheric blasts.

The Raptor went to the head on the hull of the airship and pried open a brass panel, exposing the main body of the mentok device, working to adjust the frequency slightly, and tossed a tesla gun at the biographer “Keep an eye on the sky while I work on this, I’m going to adjust the output from the right eye to a squid’s frequency.”

The Biographer, not knowing how to fire such a weapon, took cover instead under one of the propeller towers. as the Raptor made his adjustments and moved down the piping from the head to a valve, twisting it to reroute some of the aether.

The Kraken’s eyes rolled oddly, as they started to leave the airship, flying around it instead on their migration route.

The Raptor stood up and turned, noticing as a black furred form sneaked from the hatch and around the head, Doctor Dinosaur drew his teslagun from his coat as he stepped towards the shadow.  “Is that you feline?”

(biographer’s note: By this point, I felt it was prudent to end my employ with the Raptor and head to the lower deck, and a parachute, as it was getting just to dangerous up there, I’m a journalist! not a calamari chef! No amount of brainwashing’s keeping me on this deathtrap! I quit!  He can find someone else to write hi——


*last page of a slightly charred journal found in the foothills of the Fells*

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