Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Dec 28, 2022 17:46:29 GMT -5
Blue skies and fields of white. When one takes a moment to appreciate it, snow is a thing of beauty. It's one of the greatest natural wonders; it visits once or twice a year and transforms the landscape in its image. To see the terrain lay under a blanket of icy, white fluff... It's like another version of the world - one where heat is an alien mystery. And here, in The Ice Fields of Frost Gale, this is only state of being. If there was ever a time that this place knew the verdancy of grass, that memory has long since been buried beneath the rime.
Of course, wonderment diminishes with familiarity. To the people that call Frost Gale 'home,' and who would be awestruck by the sight of a grassy plain, the snow grants little inspiration. But one need not live their entire lives therein for the magic to be lost on them. One need only spend long enough to feel the frigid grasp of true cold.
Near the eastern edge of The Ice Fields is a place where the flat, white plains meet the crags of Dragon's Cradle. Here, the bleak stone, too, has become cloaked in ice and snow. It's a treacherous place, but not untreadably so; there are valleys and passes that could bear wagons in double-file. In fact, one such pass - called Irthos Naktada, between walls of opaque ice - does so just now.
"Hurry up!" The voice carries on the westward wind, as the only sign of life for a mile around. It's a feminine, mature voice and a strong one at that, bearing an authority that leaves no room for dissent.
If one were to follow the sound to its origin, they would see a scene of textbook underpreparedness. A moderate caravan of merchants' wagons, clearly not constructed for terrain of this type, is cutting through Irthos Naktada, but their journey has been halted as the foremost among them have become lodged in deep snow, blocking the path for the rest. The burliest among the caravaneers (clad in Winter furs produced in Skypeak, for exactly this journey) are digging away at the heaped snow with shovels[1] and trowels, but making little progress.
Yet the voice's source would remain unclear. In fact, typical though this scene might appear at first, there are eye-catching oddities that quickly destroy any tense of 'ordinary' like discrepancies in a lie. Among the wagons, one stands out with a blood-red bonnet. Upon that bonnet is a strange emblem: a cog over a feather and sword. But even stranger are the people that escort it, if they can be called 'people' at all. They are like walking figurines of metal and artifice. They scan about with round lenses of crimson glass. Their movements create the most peculiar of clicks, hisses, grinds and clanks as they stutter about, leaving taloned footprints in the snow. No doubt, they are machines, yet they walk like imitations of men - among other things. Indeed, these mechanical beings appear in different shapes and sizes. There is a dog-shaped contraption, a snake-shaped contraption; even the horse that pulls the wagon is a contraption of monstrous proportions and bizarre features, wearing what seems, by all standards, to be a mane of pure fire[2].
At the very least, the individual at the reins is a living thing, but she is no more ordinary. Despite wearing the tidied clothes of a military leader and the expression of a calculating tyrant, she is utterly and undebatably tiny. She could very well stand under the height of a human toddler. To match this paradox, she bears cherubic features that are impossibly contrasted by her icy gaze: smooth skin, frigid-blue eyes, a little nose and a head of dirty-blonde hair that's been tied into a no-nonsense ponytail. She's also the only woman in the entire caravan; but she couldn't have been the source of that voice, could she?
She opens her mouth, and any skepticism is bewilderingly abolished.
"In case you haven't realized, snow's gonna be a problem for the whole trip; if you're this damn slow the whole time, we'll miss the New Year... twice!"
There's no humour in her tone. Indeed, at a glance, there seems not a drop of humour in her entire soul. Despite standing no taller than a shrub, she speaks with the dominating presence of a great oak, and just as unyielding.
But one of the digger-merchants - a stubby little human with a ginger unibrow - doesn't take well to the bullying. Drawing heavy breaths after the strenuous chore, he stumbles to face her.
"Like you're doing crap to help!" His voice is gruff; he's clearly past his prime. He lets out a gross, phlegmish cough before continuing. "Get those... *things* to dig!"
He points angrily at one of the mechanical men, who does nothing to acknowledge his criticism. Unfortunately, the complaining only worsens the little woman's scowl. Her frigid orbs glimmer through narrowed eyelids.
"The 'thing' you just pointed at is a Type-III Infantry-Model "Knight" Blixtbot™." she retorts in an impatiently explanatory tone, gesturing to the whirring being with a deigning laziness. "It's designed to kill people. Using it here would be like using a sledgehammer on a nail. I've already given you the Pawn and I've already given you the tools; the rest is up to you."
Of course, as is often the case with arguments on heated subjects, their words only serve to heighten the other's anger. The man grinds his teeth, his face growing redder and redder with rage below his speckled complexion.
"We're just people, we need rest! They're machines; they should be doing this!"
While this doesn't particularly anger the little woman, neither does it amuse her. She rebukes with the frustrated tone of a shopkeeper explaining refund policies for the fourth time today, to the same person. "The Blixtbots™ need rest just as much as you do. They might be machines, but they've got limits. Now shut up and get back to work."
He does neither. He takes a heavy step forward - but he stops immediately. One thing that may not've been mentioned is that many of these mechanical men are armed - armed to the teeth, proverbially speaking (they have no mouths). The second the merchnat shows even a shred of hostile intent, a heavy crossbow is trained upon him, by one of the more menacing constructs[3]. Meanwhile, the little woman just stares coldly and with upturned nose, as if his assault were a mere insult to her.
Livid though the man may be, he knows that the bot could lay him out in a clockwork heartbeat. It takes all his will to not march forth and take the bolt anyway, but he finally manages and finally rescinds.
"Fine. But I'm not diggin' for another second. Find someone else to do your dirty work!"
This promise, he keeps by marching off and climbing into the back of another parked wagon. In his long-awaited absence, the woman rolls her eyes lets out a frustrated sigh. She looks across the scene in front of her: the wagons, the snow, the toiling merchants. Indeed, she likely *should* find someone else to take that merchant's place. But would there even be a point? They're making so little progress; in fact, it almost seems that the snow is piling faster than they can dig...
Another sigh, but more dejected than annoyed. The sullen look in her soft cheeks says it all: this is going to be a long trip.
1. Digging Kit 2. (Nightmare Steed) Envy-04 3. Bishop-11
Bringing Minions Bishop-11 (Warlord) Knight-02 (Warlord) Rook-13 (Warlord)
Bringing Pets BF-02 (The Goodest Boy) Stalker-03 (Prismatic Spider)
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Dec 28, 2022 18:28:10 GMT -5
Soaring through the air, Yukina's white feathers, speckled with flecks of brown, blended into the ground from above, and the clouds from below. Only when she would pounce, or if you were near level with her on a clear skied day could you tell she was even there. Silently the Snowy Owl patrolled above Socket, who'd been using their magic with gathering frequency in the cold to help with their mobility. This place was amongst others that needed to be checked off the list of prepared places for the coming storms. Blizzard season was closing in and the construct was determined to make sure everyone was hunkered down and able to keep warm.
Looking up, they saw Yukina bank hard between the peaks of a valley and soar through it. Three loud, shrill cries in a row meant there were travelers on the road. From their position, as best Socket could tell, they'd be overrun by the coming front by day's end if they didn't move. As the streaking form of the owl cleared the peaks once more, Socket signaled for her to track the travelers. Activating Step of the Wind, they strolled from their perch in the boughs of a snow dusted evergreen, sprinting through the sky as if it were solid ground.
Gaining altitude, the automaton caught their first glimpses of the caravan, though their vision was still spotty at best. Coming level with Yukina's flight as she circled overhead, Socket dropped from the sky casually. As they careened to the ground below, the group grew clearer. It seemed some sort of discussion was going on, and not going well for one party, though the other also seemed to be adept at some form of artifice. While their movements were precise, the way the automatons tracked and clanked also gave hints as to the nature of their programming. The young lass curtly ordering them about seemed a bit odd to Socket, but this was the job nonetheless.
"Pardon, but it seems like this caravan is a bit stuck, would you like a bit of assistance? I know it's difficult to see from down here in the pass, but there's a powerful stormfront about to bear down on this area, and I'm trying to get the roads cleared before then. What needs doing?" The construct approached, at the ready if they were to be ambushed in the pass, but otherwise calm, unarmed, striding closer at a slow pace. The experience would have amused Shion, but the bitter cold probably would not suit the poor Prismatic Spider, so she was left back home in her balmy web.
_________
Bringing: Yukina (Snow Owl), Constrictor Wrap (left Arm), Exploding Pebbles
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Dec 29, 2022 5:36:18 GMT -5
The pass goes silent. There's no more sound of shovels driving into snow, no more arguing of bitter merchants, no more disparaging orders; there's just the whistle of the wind as dozens of eyes - and a handful of weapons - are trained on the anomaly that just strode in. The merchants are dumbfounded by the sight, while the red-eyed constructs are as still as statues as they hold their weapons defensively.
The only person that isn't shocked is the little tyrantess at the wagon's reins. But this unaffectedness is easily explained, as she hasn't even looked at new arrival.
"A blizzard?!" she exclaims, still having yet to see Socket. Her expression does portray shock, but of the kind that one feels upon hearing a particularly offensive statement. Finally, she turns her head... farther away, toward the sky, as if searching for the aforementioned stormfront. "Kahl'et ob tam ja joktin. Now?!"
As the constructs' weapons remain readied and the merchants look awkwardly between themselves, the little woman rubs her face in utter exasperation.
"Alright..." Her voice is like the voice of a frustrated mother, assuring a child that everything is okay when it is painfully 'not okay.' "Alright, yeah. We need this road cleared as soon as possible. If you want to help, grab a shovel and get digging. Kien-naaa... Someone get me a Blixt™."
But as she continues to dig her nose into her palm, one of the constructs emits an unnerving sound - a low, monotonous groan whose cadence undulates into an imitation of a voice.
"Mistress Veliky, report: we have detected an unknown entity."
It's this that finally rouses the woman (Veliky, by the construct's indication) from her moping.
"Unknown entity? What are you..."
She turns around. A chilling breeze glides through her hair and over Socket's polished hull. The little woman's bemusement disintegrates to be replaced by bewilderment - not unlike the other merchants' expressions. But hers is a more nuanced astonishment: within her commanding demeanour, behind her wheat-gold locks, beneath her frost-nipped cheeks and partly belied by her river-freezing eyes is a murky blend of inscrutable emotions and opinions that project a million potentialities upon the metallic anomaly before her. Any concern the woman harboured for the impending blizzard has been entirely suspended.
She lets in a long, modest breath and exhales in a stream of dissipating mist. And only after the last fleeting particle has evanesced does she finally breathe a greeting.
"Hi." Plain as a tunic, yet stiff as a board. "I'm going to ask a very personal question, and I want you to answer truthfully. What the hell are you?"
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Dec 29, 2022 6:48:34 GMT -5
"I am myself, and I was built in a place very different from this one. Aside from that, you'll have to save your curiosity til after the work is done. I also don't need much in the way of a shovel, just some room..." The automaton strode to the side of the cart, now that the workers had stood agape at their form and were mostly out of the way, they were cautioned to make room.
Socket steadied themselves, envisioning what needed doing. As the energy within gathered, a sparking blue glow emanated from between their various joints and platings. A string of arcane words, and a rapid series of wind blasts from Gust Thrust tossed the snow aside and cleared a path for the cart. Yukina circled overhead, calling out in a long and low sound, there wasn't much time left til the storm was upon them. Not keen to stick to the icy stretch of road for the storm, Socket signaled Yukina to find them shelter as the construct ushered people moving.
"Let's get this party going folks, that blizzard isn't going to have tea while we're dallying here!!" They uttered, then using the combination of their stealthy arts, scaled the sheer face of the valley's wall and leapt skyward. The graceful streak of silver and blue fell back, tucked and rolled to a stop not far from the young commander of the various machines.
"There's possibly shelter a bit further down the trail, but there's no time to waste... Above the valley, the storm is already gripping the mountain and making it's way across to us... let's hustle to shelter and weather it somewhere we can keep warm." Socket suggested, then bound off to scout the path for further obstacles. As much attuned to the wind's magic as it was ingrained on their being, The automaton didn't stop to consider or wait for other's choices, only acted towards the outcome they favored most. In this case, the caravan's safety, which in turn was a source of plenty of questions they'd like to ask of all responsible. Storms this time of year were reckless to weather, especially without a proper guide.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Dec 30, 2022 4:16:48 GMT -5
All eyes are on the machine-anomaly, and remain so for the entirety of its spectacular display. One of the bots, still pointing its crossbow, aims it to high upward at the soaring blur that it almost falls over.
The merchants were already bewildered by Veliky's clockwork automatons; beside the polished, optimized craftsmanship of their mysterious saviour, the Blixtbots™ are like a child's drawing of innovation. Indeed, it wouldn't be inaccurate to say that the little businesswoman has been shown up. But it doesn't disquiet her; she, too, marvels as Socket zooms down the pass.
But there isn't time to remain stupefied; they wondrous an experience this's been, they'll need to move unless they want it to be their last. This realization begins to stir in the caravan, but the little woman is the first to take initiative.
"What, you all want to die gawking?! You heard it; we're in the path of a blizzard, and we aren't getting out alive, unless you move your asses!"
That's the spark that finally sets the caravan in motion. Though perplexed and slightly flustered, they clamber onto their wagons and crack the whips. Horses wade, burdensomely dragging rickety wheels through the snow. It's arduous, but necessary.
And Veliky's entourage moves as well. The horse-construct's joints screech to life and carry the wagon forward, however slowly. And the bots march beside it; though their faces lack the features to display urgency, there's an alacrity in their gait that betrays a bare minimum of understanding.
Of course, Veliky's job is among the easiest. As the others are climbing, stomping and tripping in an effort to keep pace, she need only remain on her seat and occasionally guide the metal steed with the reins - the reins that her hands are barely large enough to grasp. Even so, her face is marked with the stains of stress: creases by her tear-ducts, a painful furrow in her brow and a distance in her eyes. She barely seems to feel the bumps in the trail that rock the wagon up and down. Indeed, her focus rivals even her own underlings'.
So focused is she that she doesn't even react, let alone acknowledge, as the air beside her wavers and shifts in a way that no natural phenomena could explain. A strange shimmer, imperceptible but for its sudden absence, vanishes to unveil yet another bot on the seat beside her. This one, in shape and in movement, is like a spider[1]; but, in size, it's like a small dog. And its voice - as it does, strangely enough, speak - is a shrill buzz that reminds of mosquitos and other flying vermin.
"Mistress Veliky, report: the unknown construct does not match any known profiles. Analysis: the level of technology used in the unknown construct's design is several millennia ahead of our own."
Its red-glass eyes and tin chelicerae shift patternlessly. But Veliky is far from unnerved
"I could've told you that, Stalker. It said that it was made 'somewhere very different from here.' Hmph; could've told it that, too. My bet's that it's an outsider, like that one maadpite from Thunderhoof."
The spider's eight lenses dart about, each one studying a different part of its mistress' body-language. "Query: should I classify it as an outsider?"
This question, she does afford some consideration. She absently watches the passing trail, but belies inscrutable thoughts behind a steely expression.
"...No. In fact, list it as a humanoid for now. I have a hunch."
The spider responds, but not in any mortal language; it's a strange and optimistic chirp. Then, that shimmer suddenly returns and it vanishes from sight - still present, but totally invisible. In its wake, Veliky's expression only grows more severe with every second of travel. There's still no sign of shelter; the shimmering ice-walls of the pass seem to stretch indefinitely. She can only hope this machine knows what's it's doing.
1. (Prismatic Spider) Stalker-03
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Dec 31, 2022 2:34:51 GMT -5
The sluggish, laden carts seemed to crawl through the snowy ground of the mountain. Socket watched along the way, scouting ahead to a landmark, then waiting as a bright beacon to follow. There didn't seem to be any major obstacles in the remaining path, but the bitter winds coming down from the mountain were howling across the top of the valley now. The low, haunting notes it made seemed to startle some of the creatures and people below.
Dropping from their latest landmark, a jutted rock that loomed over the edge of the valley, Socket did their best to tend to the caravan. The group was an unusual bunch, a mixed array of peoples, and what was their connection to the young lass with the golems. The first flurries of snow began to fall on one side of the valley, tossed about in fluffy wisps of white as the winds wound their ephemeral path before the storm.
"We're almost to shelter everyone!! Let's hustle it up before the snow gets any deeper!!" They shouted across the valley, Yukina buzzing about in a tight circle that opened into a looping pass each time the wind blasted. Socket scrambled ahead, using any surfaces they could reach to launch from, then to another, quickly zipping across the last of the distance. When they landed at the mouth of the cave, it was wide, inviting even, looking as if formed by some powerful impact crater that had partially filled. Socket marveled at the symmetry and size of such a cave. How deep did it's caverns go, and what was deeper within? Those questions had to wait... the caravan needed to be sheltered first.
Over the gale, the din of metallic golems signaled the first of the carts coming up to the mouth of the cavern. Yukina dove through the entrance with the first carts, as Socket lined the wagons on the outside, bringing them together until the last, Veliky's, slotted into the center, and created a barrier of carts with their cattle and passengers nestled within. They checked in with each of the caravan's wagon crews, making sure there wasn't someone left outside. Once done, the construct fed Yukina from her ration pack.
"Great job today, beauty. You did well." They praised the fluffy bird, stroking her feathers gently while feeding her prepared bits of smoked meat with meal and dried berries mixed in. Because of the cold environment for this job, they skipped the drying process of baking the rations afterwards, which meant the owl could enjoy them in great gulps, but they wouldn't last as long in warmer, or humid climates.
Socket stepped lightly off the side of the cave, a crevasse in the wall had given their Snowy Owl a warm place to roost, which was also where she was fed. Landing without much of a sound, they walked amongst the campfires. Following the clank and groan of metal and artifice was not difficult with so many in a small space. Would the golems let Socket by? Would Veliky still want answers to her questions? They pondered this, strolling casually by without much of a sound.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Dec 31, 2022 5:42:48 GMT -5
With the caravan safely nestled in the cave, the anxiety from before gradually settles like melting snow. Though the cold still bites, multiple campfires offer a modicum of warmth whilst their smoke billows up and out through the sloped cave's half-closed mouth. Adding to the warmth is the graciousness of the merchants; they offer their thanks to their mysterious machine-saviour, in helpful heaps. They still keep their distance, of course; one good deed, however appreciated, doesn't quite dissuade their suspicion of the entity they know so very little about. Still, it's a step.
But, among the relief and the praise, that tiny drivress remains a voidful bastion. It's difficult to tell if she's ungrateful or just discourteous; but she has voiced no thanks, no praise, no warmth. It's been twenty minutes, perhaps; she's reserved a campfire for only herself and her underlings. Now, there she sits, wrapped in a tweed blanket (also reserved for herself). Seeing her so bundled, it'd be easy to forget her commanding attitude from before; but, if one stares too long or too openly, a flash of her icy glare is all that's needed as reminder.
While most of her strange constructs are patrolling about or guarding at the more tenebrous reaches of the cave, an artificial canine[1] rests beside her in much the way that a true canine might (though its chest does not rise and fall with breath). And, as Socket passes near...
"Hey." It's a typical thing to say and spoken almost typically, but with a subtly commanding undertone. Similar is her steely gaze: plain but for a faint severity. But her tone quickly darkens, becoming more questioning, interrogative. "You never really answered my question. I know you aren't from Charon; who are you, and which plane did you come from?"
1. BF-02
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Dec 31, 2022 7:37:57 GMT -5
Wisdom and curiosity would be the end of Socket some day, as they heard Veliky's question once again. "I am known as Kosoku Hiraishin, and I come from a different... realm, one outside your space and time... if that makes sense." Socket stepped up closer, looking over the golems curiously. Each was different in it's purpose, yet they all seemed to have a sameness in their behavior.
From above the caravan's covered wagons, a strong gust of frigid air made the campfires falter, and blew out most torches and candles that were exposed. The group hushed a moment, waiting to see if it would happen again before relighting the flames. They wondered if Veliky would have further ideas or lend a hand with the others... with the right skills, and effort, the group could find a way to keep the worst of the blizzard outside until it passed. The construct had no clue what everyone's rations were looking like, but at least the shelter would help them weather the storm itself.
"You seem to be a sour lass at the moment, I'm going to presume that you're used to being the one giving orders etc." Socket stated flatly. "I'd like to enlist the resourceful leadership, if possible, in exchange for a conversation a bit more in depth about myself, and what I am, since it seems to be the topic most often occurring first to folk. How does this sound to you?"
They watched, and waited, patiently for a reply. The first hurdle had been cleared, the caravan had shelter from the storm, now they needed to weather it's passing. Following the storm, the group would have to clear a path back to clearer roads and try not to run out of supplies between then and now.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Dec 31, 2022 17:30:38 GMT -5
Though only her face is visible in the blanket-bundle, the faint outlines of the little woman's movements can be seen beneath the fabric. And it's faint, ever so faint, but there's a twitch in her eye at the mention of that l-word.
"Yeah," Her voice is bitter, but still palatable, like liquorice. "I should hope that I'm used to doing my job."
Through narrowed and slightly reddened eyes, she sweeps about the room and its shivering inhabitants. There's an affrontedness in her form, as if the sudden wind were an insult.
"Ugh." She raises her head and voice in tandem. "Pawn! Grab Envy and have it take a seat somewhere."
Among the patrolling bots[1], one of them - the only of the group that's actually unarmed, turns and chirps its acknowledgment before taking a raucous jog over to the horse that'd been drawing Veliky's crimson wagon. The horse is an anomaly of itself: in addition to the technological features of the other constructs, it possesses a mane of fire that's constantly spewed from small nozzles on its neck. Hazardous things; counter-intuitive as well, as they'd confound any attempt to actually ride the steed. This is clearly their purpose, but a pyrrhic one?
Clearly not daunted by the flames, Pawn takes the reins and guides the metallic horse to the spot most distant from any other campfire - a mathematical determination. An imitation of a man and an imitation of a horse: but, together, they create a jittering sight that's only barely recognizable as a man guiding a horse.
All the while, Veliky continues. "I'll need you to define 'enlist' for me. I don't do mercenary work, and nothing criminal. And I'm a busy woman; this whole fiasco has already made me late for three meetings, and I'll probably miss another six because of this blizzard."
The two bots stop, and the humanoid emits a series of odd beeps and clicks - a mechanical tongue. Apparently understanding, the horse begins a set of clunky, pre-programmed movements: lowering into a bow, lowering into a kneel and finally lowering into a sit.
Veliky turns her voice to the caravan. "Alright, gather around the horse if your fire gets low. Wind won't put this one out." And then back to Kosoku, pulling the blanket back like a hood of tweed and unveiling a head of golden curls. "If that all clocks in, we can talk."
1. (Scarecrow Squire) Pawn-03
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Jan 2, 2023 5:15:17 GMT -5
"A bargain for a businesswoman, a story for your help... and in turn for mine. We get through this storm and get the caravan home together. In the mean time, we keep warm and keep the cold out for everyone's sake. I'll gladly send Yukina, the big fluffy lass I was feeding, out to scout once the weather is better."
Sitting comfortably, they watched the jilted mechanical golems. So much would change in the future, with those minds like Veliky and other curious and crafty folk in the world. Socket marveled at the balance of form, function and artistic finesse. Each bit and movement had the stamp of it's maker, and gave the construct a deep appreciation of it's own form.
"Ask of me what questions you'd like in the meantime. Your own companions, I'd be interested in knowing more about them if you'd like to swap some info... but I do understand if you'd rather keep your crafts to yourself as well."
Swiveling about, their 'ears' tilted toward a change in the ambient sound. The wind outside picked up, and with it, more snow had started piling into the entrance of the cave. Outside, the valley was coated in a greyish white gloom, shot with the slanted snowfall tossed about in the powerful winds.
"It's getting quite blustery, should we be concerned about being snowed in?" The automaton queried, it's demeanor becoming more cat-like. Resting on it's front limbs, knees kicked out to the side as if ready to spring at the next moving thing that passed by. The missed meetings for a business were always unfortunate, so the construct began setting up a process of thought, a simple 'mental' program to come up with the safest, but fastest outcome possible.
As the bits of code went to work, Socket's attention once again turned to the mechanisms of Veliky's entourage. Was she the builder? Did she know a builder if not? Were most of them heavily fortified for combat... their gait, and plated hulls seemed to indicate that... but they could only speculate. Hopefully there would be no need for such knowledge on this particular trip... This far from home, Socket was keen to avoid any combat if possible. It was already a tough task to get materials and maintenance, exasperating that situation would only make things difficult.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Jan 5, 2023 5:53:59 GMT -5
It isn't difficult to tell that Kosoku's change in posture is disquieting to the businesswoman. She looks upon the sight - like one of the sphinxes of Zeinav - with the expression of someone who's just learned a secret they'd really rather not know. And it's some time before she answers at all; the distance and focus in the cybernetic anomaly's eyes would make it virtually unapproachable to most.
Perhaps to better understand the anomaly's thinking, or perhaps of her own volition, she follows its eyes to the cave's entrance, and to her own bots...
"...No clue. Might shock you to know that I'm not a rhutenatung... What's the word in Common?" She looks absently at the ceiling, as if it holds her answer. "Survivor, I think?"
Sarcasm: the first glimpse of a disposition that isn't severe, impassive or plain angry. If it's an attempt to lighten the mood, it's at least somewhat successful.
"Not much we can do about it, though. We could leave Envy outside, use its fire to melt the snow, but the cold would just kill it. Just hope it doesn't happen; if it does, we'll improvise."
...They're a curious sight, sitting side-by-side: a tiny halfling, bundled in cloth; and a robot from the far reaches of space, perched like a feline. The only trait they might debatably share it their oddity, or the firelight that warms them from either side.
"But yeah, getting everyone through safely was always the plan. Don't know about getting them 'home,' though. We're for the Pale City; beyond that I'm sure they have their own plans. 'Home' is a funny word for people like us, as I imagine you'd understa-"
Crash!
The sudden noise - like an entire kitchen being dropped off a cliff and landing on a rocky shore - draws dozens of startled eyes (Veliky's included). And those eyes follow to the heap of metal that is a fallen construct, lying on the ground. That crimson glow has faded from his eyes.
Veliky's expression twists into anger, and she erupts from her blanket-den that folds and flops to the cold floor.
"Dammit! Bring it over to a fire!" She accentuates her command with a point of her tiny, yet commanding finger. As usual, her robotic underlings are first to heed her orders; two rush to the fallen bot's side, and its plates scrape along the stone as it's dragged into the warmth of Veliky's fire.
Her disposition hasn't sweetened any.
"Should've seen this coming..." With a leather-gloved hand, she rubs her forehead in dismay. "They don't well in the cold. Something about their parts shrinking and janking out. Same thing happens with heat, actually."
Awkward, stressed silence lingers for some time. The half-woman keeps running her hands through her hair, and it's difficult to tell if it's aiding or hindering the messiness. There's one strand of hair that seems to bounce back into place, no matter what's done to it.
Eventually, though, her mood does settle from anger to plain disillusionment. Her arms are crossed, her eyes are bored and her lips are curled down in a seemingly permanent frown. She's staring at the unmoving heap that is the collapsed construct. Her expression is... ponderous? Exasperated? Maybe even mischievous? It's impossible to tell.
She doesn't remove her eyes from the heap as she speaks.
"What about you? You're a construct. Do heat and cold bother you at all?"
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Jan 6, 2023 1:49:52 GMT -5
"I was built to protect a ship, long ago... one that floated through the cosmos of our realm carrying the history, tech, flora and fauna of the world it came from. Myself, and all the others like me, were built to withstand as much heat and cold as possible... but I'm not invincible or anything... this cold makes my body inefficient as well..."
The construct uncurled from the fire, walking over to see if they could help move the downed golem. Outside, the snow was piling up, the winds whipping great flurries about. Socket scanned the area as best they could, keeping watch as they cleared snow and debris from the path of Veliky's automatons. There wasn't much in the way of moving the golem itself they could help with, as their small frame couldn't support much extra weight.
The clattering, clanking noise of the group moving about echoed through the cave, adding it's mechanical tones to the howling blizzard outside. Once the golem was returned to a warmer area, Socket returned to the fire beside Veliky once more. Perching beside the fire, they enjoyed a reprieve from the frigid temperature, the frost and snow steaming off as the surface of their form heated up.
"Do you have other companions Veliky?" The construct asked once they'd warmed up again. They were intrigued by the demeanor she held, and wondered about how many different golems and other pets she might have. Darkness crept across the Ice Fields, and the temperature turned bitter cold. Snow began to freeze into solid sheets as the night drew in, and Socket did their best to keep warm. They looked about the cave, checking to see what they could of the people in the caravan, and making sure that everyone was sleeping near a fire and with a bed roll. This group seemed well traveled, able to work in a coordinated fashion, and prepared for many circumstances.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Jan 8, 2023 18:22:59 GMT -5
Night is falling. The roars of the blizzard, like those of a berserker, tell that its rage will not subside in any near future. "Morning, at least," reckons one of the cloistered merchants. Of course, they would remain here for the night, regardless, but worries begin to fester about what state the land will be in...
All the while, Veliky's attention is divided between that and Kosoku, whose words barely seem to register on her expression. She hears them, processes them; though competence suffuses her personality, even she isn't immune to the ignorance of this world's age. To her, Kosoku's words are as alien as Kosoku themself, provoking a subtle look of quizzical skepticism. But then, her demeanour lights up, however slightly, like a lightbulb; the cloudiness in her eyes parts to a certain clarity. It's as if she suddenly understands Kosoku's explanation about ships in the cosmos, but she assuredly doesn't.
Oddly, Kosoku's own question leaves the halfling just as inarticulate. Only, this silence is less in bafflement and more in consideration. Her thoughts are inscrutable, as her absent eyes only reflect the firelight, like an unlit window.
"Yeah." she eventually admits. Her locks swish lightly as she turns to her monstrous wagon. "Ouroboros, come!"
At the instant of her command, there's a sharp sound like a ballistbolt as something darts from behind the wagon's seat, with astonishing speed! Needless to say, it's a startling commotion for the merchants, some of whom cover their heads and cower on sheer instinct. But as it nears Veliky, it slows to a hovering crawl with equal suddenness: the floating, iron skeleton of a six-foot-long serpent. It orbits Veliky like some serpentine satellite; its countless ribs wriggle and skitter like the legs of a centipede. The revolution is so sluggish, so gradual, that it's near-impossible to imagine the construct moving at the speed that it had just seconds ago.
But, just as with her other toys, the tiny businesswoman is altogether unimpressed. In fact, she seems somewhat annoyed by it as she quietly sighs and deigns to introduce it with a gesture. "This is a Type-II Serpent-Model "Ouroboros" Blixtbot™. It's designed for-..." As it orbits, the serpent eclipses her face, requiring her to wait several seconds for it to pass. When it eventually does, it unveils a thinner-waned patience in her blue irises (and the rest of her face, for that matter). "...designed for personal protection."
She throws it a glare, but seems immune to even this feedback, and she can only follow it for a fleeting moment before it orbits behind her. Does her face seem a little redder than before? With the cold nipping at everyone's noses, ears and cheeks, it's difficult to tell.
"Ugh." Her attention returns to Kosoku as she shifts her weight onto a hip. "Anyways, there's also Stalker. It's..." Her gaze drifts annoyedly. "somewhere."
She doesn't notice it at first, but the air distorts beside her and that robotic spider[2] manifests from nothingness, tip-tapping on the stone floor. While 'toy' can be tenuously used to describe any of the little condottiere's constructs, this one embodies the word, resembling a windup toy in all features but the key. Of course, it also resembles a spider, though substantially larger than any usual breed. Fortunately, its movements are rather un-spiderlike, carrying that same unnatural rhythm as the other bots.
Of course, nothing distinguishes it from an ordinary spider more than its ability to speak.
"Civilian Kosoku, introduction: I am a Type-II Spider-Model "Stalker" Blixtbot™. My designation is Stalker-03." Its eight crimson lenses focus and unfocus as its iron chelicerae chitter and unchitter. "Report: sentient constructs are highly rare in this world. You are the first that this unit has encountered."
Its minimal pleasantry is clearly artificial; there isn't an ounce of real compassion in its programming. And its meek, monotonous voice is nearly omitted by the whistle of the winds outside.
1. (Dancing Chain) Ouroboros-02 2. Stalker-03
|
|
Mage's Guild
218 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Sumnes (Baelethir) on Jan 10, 2023 15:54:58 GMT -5
"Stalker, and Ouroboros, very interesting. One for personal defense, one for covert intel gathering... Stalker, would you happen to be modeled on the Prismatic Spider?" Socket thought of Shion, their own companion keeping warm back home, the cold climates unsuitable for her. They listened to the gale outside, it had been steady and swift for hours now, piling snow in mounds and driving it across the land as the blizzard crept it's way along.
Stretching, there was a soft mechanical groaning in their joints as the cold temperatures shrank the already tightly built parts. Precision had it's pros and cons, on the one hand you could make a machine that was incredibly efficient, on the other hand that machine would be limited by it's own precision tolerances. Temperatures in particular, both high and low, proved to strain metals and increase wear. They moved a bit closer to the fire, trying to soak in some of it's heat and keep from siezing up and being stuck in the cave til spring thawed the area again.
"If it gets much colder, I might be just as stuck as the other constructs... no amount of science or magic can stand against the unbridled fury of nature itself... sure for a time you can resist... but nature has no time limits." They said quietly beside the fire, talking to no one in particular. The idea was odd, which made the automaton pause and consider it. Their still form relaxed, and the construct seemed distant for a few moments as the oddly philosophical idea ran it's course through their mind.
They observed the constructs, and Veliky herself for a moment, gathering more curious questions for later on once they were clear of the valley. Maybe they'd finally have someone to talk about machines with, an artificer whom could manufacture replacement parts with fine tolerances... though the materials could be a pain to procure... still, the automaton filed away a series of ideas for later.
|
|
Noble
IS OFFLINE
40
Renown
Half-Halfling, Half-Goblin
Arrived in the Booba Stratosphere
766 POSTS & 0 LIKES
|
Post by Veliky on Jan 11, 2023 20:56:51 GMT -5
Under scrutiny, the constructs act no different. They still march and clank in the penumbra; they still glint in the firelight; they still stand at guard, stoic as the mountains themselves. They lack that metacognitive self-awareness that people find so pressing when observed; their heedlessness is, in equal parts, assuring and unnerving.
The precise opposite is true for that little woman, Veliky, who stares back at Kosoku with an expression that gradually drifts toward wariness. Corporal and dreadful, her demeanour is far colder than most people's, but leagues warmer than her artificial lackeys. It's the difference between an object and a corpse.
Eventually, and perhaps feeling some need to break the tension, she clears her throat in that overly pronounced manner that's often used to nab attention. With a few casual strides, she steps toward the fire. That spider (little by a person's standard, but massive by an arachnid's) follows close by her legs, its pin-sharp feet tapping and tinking against the stone.
"Nature doesn't have time limits because she doesn't have ambitions." she remarks, looking into the raging fire. Its reflection in her eyes is crystal-clear. "If Nature had a goal, she'd be living on credit like the rest of us."
She offers little in the way of elaboration, but her matter-of-fact tone bleeds pragmatism - and perhaps a minor disinclination for philosophy. She blows a long gust of misty breath that hangs long in the air before dissipating into nothingness.
"I don't think of it as fighting nature. It's more like a puzzle: she gives us all the pieces, and we figure out the best way to put them together." She throws a demonstrative gesture at the campfire that casts their shadows on the icy walls. "She gives us wood, we make fire."
Shifting her leather boots along the stone, she paces collectedly. Beside her, the Ouroboros levitates dangerously close to the campfire, such that the flames even lick its metal cheek. But perturbment (and perhaps even pain) seem beyond the machine's comprehension. Veliky just watches, processing the implications somewhere behind her frozen eyes...
"Our bots are based on nature, too. You already guessed that the Stalker's based on the prismatic. Aside from that, the Ouroboros is obviously a snake, the BF-" she gestures to the lying dog, which quickly raises its head at the mention of its name "-is based on a dog, and the infantry are just based on people. We save a lot of time and money by letting nature draw our blueprints."
Trailing a listless gaze across artificial beings that make up her entourage, she finds herself staring at Yukina roosting in its cozy corner. There's no warmth or even curiosity in her expression, just the sort of lackadaisical rumination that stems from a bored and weary mind.
"That's one of those exotic breeds, isn't it? The ones that use cryomancy? Think we're drafting on a design based on that, too. Working title is 'Silent Night.' Should make for decent artillery unit, if the magic's as good as they say."
Her gaze lingers for a moment longer, but's quickly taken away at its obsoletion. She treads over to the discarded, tweed blanket - a walk that would've been barely a step for someone of normal size - and picks it up by its hem. It really is a shoddy thing when viewed in full. Regardless, she straightens it out and begins to wrap herself in its scratchy embrace once more as the wind whistles and buffets outside.
As she does so, she raises a hand to her mouth and lets out a little yawn - one that's almost meek enough to befit her appearance. Indeed, she's hiding it well, but not all the symptoms of weariness can be so easily stemmed. In the long breath that follows, she speaks her last thoughts before hiding herself away for the night.
"Nature's a lot of things, but she's not an enemy."
Her gaze becomes more distant, entertaining the memories ordered in her encyclopedic mind...
"She's actually sort of hot."
Little can make its way through the bleak clouds, through the forlorn valley, into the cave, over the wagon-blockade and onto the slack-jawed faces of the sleeping merchants. But the light that does survive this journey, little rays that bounce excitedly against the shimmering walls, tells that morning has come. To call the night 'quiet' would be a lie, as it was haunted by the relentless symphony of some of the most furious winds that these poor folk have heard in their lives. But it was undisturbed: the most important boon to any experienced adventurer. And now, some merchants are gradually waking to the welcome silence of the blizzard's absence, while others remain in shivering slumber and others still have yet to sleep at all.
Even the constructs sleep, it would seem. As they enter a state of dormancy, that red glow in their eyes fades to the shimmering dark of an unlit window. Some of them sleep standing, and the Stalker even hangs from a wall in its slumber. The militia of dormant machinery congregates about and within the red-bonnet wagon, piled so closely that they almost resemble a scrapheap - until that glow returns to their lenses, and they begin to stir with industrial intent. Even of the construct that collapsed so suddenly and so violently, the crimson shine returns and it slowly raises its head with the whirr of mechanical life or whatever the equivalent.
But Veliky is nowhere to be seen.
Well, that might be somewhat misleading. It isn't to say that she isn't present, but rather that she's so garrisoned behind her bots that she's literally invisible from outside the wagon. She's as heavily guarded as King Solarian himself, granted that her royal guards are all unconscious as if enjoying a youthful slumber party. She's assuredly lying somewhere behind the metal barricade, still bundled in a cocoon of tweed...
There she is. As the constructs begin to wake and rise, a frazzled head of blonde curls pokes above the mass. With the blanket still hanging from her shoulders like a cloak, she marches a straight line between the waking constructs. Her own eyes are opened so narrowly that she almost appears to be sleepwalking. Reaching the wagon's edge, she has one of her constructs pick her up and lower her to the ground like a baby. Another hands her an oversized (for her) mug of some steaming, bubbling liquid, of which she immediately takes a chest-warming sip while another bot fixes, adjusts and ties her hair into the no-nonsense ponytail that she had prior. Under their lifeless care, Veliky's quickly transformed from a groggy halfling to a groggy businesswoman.
Another sip of that liquid - whatever it is - and she takes a few brisk steps toward the group that's slowly gathering, planning for their departure. Through her squinting, though, she is looking around, searching for that anomaly that had appeared just yesterday.
Just another day in the business.
|
|