Prompt: Aberron just kinda wrote this to kick off the second Sagafest, so there's no real prompt here. Still cool!
"You're a Caster? With that weapon?" The man in blue challenged.
"This is a reflection of the world that my mind would have created. This weapon?" Charles Babbage hefted his mace, the metal slamming into the concrete below with a satisfying crunch. "It is the evidence that my faith was realized!"
"Faith means nothing, old man. The gods don't care."
"Faith is a verb of action. Perhaps in the eras it has been since your unfortunate death the language of man has encapsulated beyond the simple belief in totems and idols. No, I have faith that my science would speak for itself. That mathematics would hold true!" The gears on the mace began spinning. "This mace is the objectification of the Difference Engine I designed. Gears turning, steam pressure proving input over output." The pressure within him had built to too much, and with a burst of steam the area around him was filled with the evidence of his beating heart. "This is, with every moment calculating the exact way in which I must strike. That with each beat of my mechanical heart it calculates where it must strike. Fate itself must stand down to its calculations, as it paves the way for the world I shall create!"
The Irishman seemed to ignore the entire statement. "So it spins. You going to hit me with it or just stand there like a coward?"
Babbage stood up to his full height, and the steam engine within him was spinning ever faster. His foe was a Lancer, after all. "I am a gentleman. If you demand I attack, I shall receive your invitation." His feet kicked forwards, the gears already predicting that the Lancer would meet his charge. His shoulder began building a charge, the gears squeaking as they spun. Even as that began, he let the Difference Engine calculate where it needed to be. His mind was immediately filled with angles and likelihoods, until it settled upon one single location. Inside his guard, at the juncture of his left knee. The charge was released, his shoulder redirecting his forward strike to the exact location it needed to be.
The red spear twisted away from his knee in time to block the spinning mace, knocking back the hero almost ten feet. "Did you receive my RSVP?" Babbage asked politely.
"Yeah." The Irishman wiped his lips of some spat blood. "I want to test it again." He took a position, his left foot forwards and his back foot ready to launch himself forwards. "For a Caster, you're actually worth fighting."