MachineSoul
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Zamokra41
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Day 8
The night spent in a decent bed proved to be comfortable enough for his back, but the smell of someone else's sweat and drool absorbed by the cushions and mattress did not do good to his morning appetite; falling asleep also proved to be rather difficult, as the presence of the musky, sour smell would torment Aleko even in his dreams. But he got rid of the persistent odor after he had washed himself in the morning after his fitness drill and made sure to be dry enough to walk out in the biting cold of the North. He had two other rangers help him put the plate suit back on his body before he walked outside, where chill and fog greeted him promptly. The heir could only sigh to himself and buckle up the scabbard containing his longsword around his waist for a tighter grip, the same with the sidearm and dagger, while he loosely slung the rifle on his left shoulder; as he made his way on the top of the battlements, he met with some of the soldiers that helped conquer the fort under the command of Bulkwyn, the anthro side of the troops were obviously more eager to greet the emperor with the most reverent bows, nods and appraisals. One of the rangers seemed more than glad to see the emperor and promptly lifted the visor, revealing a MacFinlay wearing a toothy grin and a fresh wound on the tip of his nose.
"Good morning, Commander!" He mouthed, steam flowing from his snout.
"Good morrow, Bedpan." The halfling replied with a small smile and a nod of his head. "Care to join me on my duties today?" He asked without thinking too much; but he found that he needed a more familiar face next to him, especially from a boot-smashing soldier like he was not long ago.
"Duti- of course, Commander!" The wolf seemed taken aback by his superior's request, but he didn't seem to mind leaving his crenelation to join the halfling. He kept up with Aleko, keeping himself at his side, throwing a glance down every once in a while.
"It sure feels good to sleep where the wind doesn't pelt you, sir." Commented Bedpan as he took a final look down at the anthro chargers. He shifted his gaze forward, immediately identifying the gatehouse they were approaching.
"Oh, yes, I do appreciate some walls around me." Aleko replied before the wolf could inquire about the general. Noticing that he took his subordinate's chance to speak, he lifted his own exposed muzzle forward to the woman. "Yes, we're going to have a talk with her."
"Oh." MacFinlay nearly stopped in his tracks. "Well, uh, I'll wait until you have finished, sir. I wouldn't want to interfere in high-brass discussions."
Aleko turned his head to him and squinted his icicle eyes. It's a completely different reason, isn't it? "I see. Well, carry on."
The heir left Bedpan behind and approached the general, managing to startle her.
"Good morning, general. I can say I've had a decent night's sleep in someone else's sweat and spit." He commented while admiring the misty vista from the gatehouse. He stretched his neck and hopped on the balls of his boots, plates and scabbard clattering in a cacophony of steel, leather and wood. Standing atop the castle felt good to him, knowing that he conquered the fortress with the help of eight men; as he thought more and more about his accomplishment, he couldn't help but to feel fortunate to have made out of another stronghold takeover. Even though it was smaller in size and capacity, the operation was perilous none the less. He did present his opinion over the success of the mission here, moment in which he found the opportunity to bring up the battle-mage observation he had two days before. For some reason, he did not expect a straight up answer, but he was glad that she offered to give in the details at a later time; the heir could only nod and smile, bringing out no more words to show his understanding.
Silence took over as they stood there to watch the obscured horizon, Aleko half-expected to see troops returning to the castle, with quite an amount of dread in his chest.
How will I handle them? I can be pretty bloody sure they will not listen to a single word that I have to say. They're crude people, they only listen to their own superior, I'm the enemy they are supposed to murder. I better acquit myself as such.
Before he could even assimilate what was going on, the troops arrived, the half-mouse started shouting down at them to hold and surrender, dwarven troops immediately surrounded the enemies from behind; Aleko crossed his arms and smirked to himself, his head lowering as he stifled a proud chuckle.
"Hammer and anvil." He muttered quietly.
"Hammer and anvil." Echoed MacFinlay, which in the meantime approached the two superiors. He glanced at Aleko, gave him a grin and looked back down at the trapped army. He lifted his gaze again as the emperor stepped forward and rested his forearms against the merlon in front of him.
Of course, he expected the rather disgraceful reaction from the general, since he was at the end of the day, a bastard and nothing more. Aleko didn't take it as an insult, but what did manage to pull a frown of disdain was the act of defiance he resented so much; the halfling ground his teeth, canines poking through his lips. Something that bothered him some more was the general trying to negotiate himself out of the situation, only to be countered by a female captain that declared the opposite offer. One way or another, Aleko would either have the army killed, or the general free. He wanted both. Bulkwyn whispered something to him, but the halfling seemed rather unfazed by her words. MacFinlay abstained from uttering a word, he only turned his head to his grace while his rifle aimed down at the mass of humans caught in between a fortress and a dwarven force. For the newly-made lord, attacking them would only yield casualties and if there was something that many military treatises told him, he wasn't supposed to surround the enemy completely, lest they would fight until the bitter end and take down men of his own; that was unfavorable, as leaving them a small niche of escape could have the remaining forces surrender and flee, perfect occasion to let the light cavalry pick off troops. But, he found no other option here. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, to make sure his voice could be heard.
"General Dunngard, Captain. I am rather befuddled by an issue here: since when are prisoners able to negotiate themselves out?" He glanced at Bulkwyn, then at Bedpan, only to return his gaze back down. He lifted his shoulders and dropped them, the pauldrons clattered. "Circumstance dictates that you are the mercy of my words, yet, you find the audacity to find solutions for yourselves? A castle filled with rifles aiming at each of your heads, while at your back you'll have grenades and axes, and yet, an old man with pain in his joints wants out. And a captain that prefers to kill her entire force for naught. Intriguing." Aleko straightened his back and lifted his eyebrows, feeling an odd confidence in his own voice, in his own words that he picked for the speech. His leather-clad fingers tapped against the merlon.
"Firstly: drop your weapons, shields, spell books. All of them. Men, lead the captain and her men inside the fortress; pick three guards and apprehend the general, I want to have a private talk with him." He slapped his palm against the stone and turned to Bulkwyn, to which he quietly, but quickly, whispered:
"Lead each and every man inside and close the gates behind you. Once I and the dwarven forces are alone with the general, we will make sure he will be silenced and taken by the dwarves to their outpost and have him interrogated." He gestured his hand to follow him. "This army will be put for labor, we cannot risk setting them free so close to the enemy." Aleko then sighed and tried to talk at a slower pace, making sure that his plan was fully understood.
"The bitch doesn't realize the grievous mistake she made: she laid the perfect setting for me to get everything I need with very little inconvenience. While I "talk" with the general, make sure their remaining forces are locked behind the gate, so that they can't see me sock the man out cold and give him to our friendlies. How copy?"
Fix'd
@BCTheEntity Yep, pretty good stuff! Though, I'm afraid I missed the reference ;_;
You know, I'm actually keeping a tally of the nice things associated with RED.
You know, I'm actually keeping a tally of the nice things associated with RED.
- "robot arm person" - sounds so innocent
- "Mr. Klutz-and-Bolts" - well, that's got triggering potential
- "Mr. Rock'em Sock'em arms" - 55% chance of inflicting epistaxis on user
- "Mr. Roboto" - DOMO ARIGATO
I'm thinking of posting tomorrow and move my knobhead forward, just to cut more of the distance between the main group and him so that you don't have to wait for me.
@Shorticus Heh, pretty sure robots are also susceptible to Newton's first law of motion, especially when gravity works against you
Tough life bein' a robot, mang
Tough life bein' a robot, mang
Can't blame you two for being the victims of overly-polished surfaces ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
A group of misfits huddled in a fancy room under the supervision of an almost-old-man with a dream and resources, what a recipe for a happy disaster.
Each and every individual seemed to be the polar opposite of the other weirdo sitting next to them, but this wild diversity gave this clump of people charm. From a mumbling genius to a hulking brick-head, from a wand-wielding magician to a large rat. Another peculiar individual was a young adult hunched over the edge of the oval table, mechanical arms revealed by a dark grey t-shirt with short sleeves were resting their metallic elbow joints against the wooden surface; the lower half of his face was covered by entwined fingers, the only visible features were the root of his slender nose and a pair of black eyes staring at the reflections on the wooden surface. A light frown indicated the absence of his mind and lack of attention towards the palette of aspiring heroes surrounding him, his thoughts have long trailed off into a distant corner of his skull. Voices around him barely drew his attention, the only obtainable reaction to the louder individuals or towards any motion was a slow blink. He didn't communicate with any of them beforehand, but he didn't avoid them either since he didn't outright isolate himself from the rest of the group; the way he acquitted himself drew very little attention as his smaller frame barely gave away any sign that he was in fact a breathing, living thing. The one fact that betrayed this apparent nonchalance would be his presence at the meeting.
Is this really what I'm looking for? Akira asked himself numerous times as he paid attention to the figures moving in his peripheral vision. I need strength, I need to gather my wits and improve myself, he continued, his body as still as a statue, but I needed resources too. My arms and feet alone are not enough. Not yet.
Moving in the apartment his family bought with the money he made abroad was definitely no easy task; he had confirmed his darkest fear, evidenced by their absence and the cleanliness of the place. He had been haunted by the thought that his parents and his grandfather once dwelt there, which forced him to refrain from touching anything unnecessary, just to keep their purity intact; he even refused to sleep in either of the two beds and instead took the couch. He did not want to tarnish the resting place of his parents; he especially kept away from the bed of his grandfather, out of respect. And also because the mattress emanated a combined smell of musky old man and mothballs. There was a wall filled with framed photos, a family shrine in other words, he could yet bring himself to look at; of course he spotted his younger self in some of them with the corner of his eyes, but he never mustered the strength to walk up to the wall and look at them. Of course he wanted to leave immediately and get himself a new place to live in, not only due to the harrowing ambiance the entire apartment gave him, but also because he feared that ASA would come looking for him to recover their "stolen goods", then only weapons he had which he could use to shut down the entire company. After a week or so, no one came searching for him, something he found highly peculiar.
Are they waiting for me to come back to them, he would ask himself repeatedly, or are they monitoring me to see how these implants work on a different test field? If that's true, I need to find the hypothetical tracking chip, I do feel watched. Well, worry not, I will show you exactly what I'm made of.
"What if we... fail?" Cassandra sheepishly asked.
"We're not going to fail-" began the raptor-like female before a thunderous thud filled the room, the entire table vibrated from the impact.
Polished metal and polished wood can't really produce proper friction, you know. A groaning Akira lifted the face with which he kissed the surface of the table in a rather painful fashion. He held the base of his nose with the tips of his metallic fingers, his expression a heavy wince of displeasure.
"Apologies." He uttered with a nasal tone. He lifted his free hand to wave dismissively, as to not draw attention to his sudden misfortune. "I'm fine, really, carry on."
Grade A first impression, kid. He scolded himself as he tried to focus his mind away from the stinging pain stemming from the base of his nose and spreading right into the depths of his cortex. Can't say that I don't fit with these people.
Each and every individual seemed to be the polar opposite of the other weirdo sitting next to them, but this wild diversity gave this clump of people charm. From a mumbling genius to a hulking brick-head, from a wand-wielding magician to a large rat. Another peculiar individual was a young adult hunched over the edge of the oval table, mechanical arms revealed by a dark grey t-shirt with short sleeves were resting their metallic elbow joints against the wooden surface; the lower half of his face was covered by entwined fingers, the only visible features were the root of his slender nose and a pair of black eyes staring at the reflections on the wooden surface. A light frown indicated the absence of his mind and lack of attention towards the palette of aspiring heroes surrounding him, his thoughts have long trailed off into a distant corner of his skull. Voices around him barely drew his attention, the only obtainable reaction to the louder individuals or towards any motion was a slow blink. He didn't communicate with any of them beforehand, but he didn't avoid them either since he didn't outright isolate himself from the rest of the group; the way he acquitted himself drew very little attention as his smaller frame barely gave away any sign that he was in fact a breathing, living thing. The one fact that betrayed this apparent nonchalance would be his presence at the meeting.
Is this really what I'm looking for? Akira asked himself numerous times as he paid attention to the figures moving in his peripheral vision. I need strength, I need to gather my wits and improve myself, he continued, his body as still as a statue, but I needed resources too. My arms and feet alone are not enough. Not yet.
Moving in the apartment his family bought with the money he made abroad was definitely no easy task; he had confirmed his darkest fear, evidenced by their absence and the cleanliness of the place. He had been haunted by the thought that his parents and his grandfather once dwelt there, which forced him to refrain from touching anything unnecessary, just to keep their purity intact; he even refused to sleep in either of the two beds and instead took the couch. He did not want to tarnish the resting place of his parents; he especially kept away from the bed of his grandfather, out of respect. And also because the mattress emanated a combined smell of musky old man and mothballs. There was a wall filled with framed photos, a family shrine in other words, he could yet bring himself to look at; of course he spotted his younger self in some of them with the corner of his eyes, but he never mustered the strength to walk up to the wall and look at them. Of course he wanted to leave immediately and get himself a new place to live in, not only due to the harrowing ambiance the entire apartment gave him, but also because he feared that ASA would come looking for him to recover their "stolen goods", then only weapons he had which he could use to shut down the entire company. After a week or so, no one came searching for him, something he found highly peculiar.
Are they waiting for me to come back to them, he would ask himself repeatedly, or are they monitoring me to see how these implants work on a different test field? If that's true, I need to find the hypothetical tracking chip, I do feel watched. Well, worry not, I will show you exactly what I'm made of.
"What if we... fail?" Cassandra sheepishly asked.
"We're not going to fail-" began the raptor-like female before a thunderous thud filled the room, the entire table vibrated from the impact.
Polished metal and polished wood can't really produce proper friction, you know. A groaning Akira lifted the face with which he kissed the surface of the table in a rather painful fashion. He held the base of his nose with the tips of his metallic fingers, his expression a heavy wince of displeasure.
"Apologies." He uttered with a nasal tone. He lifted his free hand to wave dismissively, as to not draw attention to his sudden misfortune. "I'm fine, really, carry on."
Grade A first impression, kid. He scolded himself as he tried to focus his mind away from the stinging pain stemming from the base of his nose and spreading right into the depths of his cortex. Can't say that I don't fit with these people.
@Hellis Then let me rectify: working on something!
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