Blood-fueled mecha: or, a peasant wretch happens upon a harbinger of war.
SANGUINE STEEL
- Thread starter RudigerSmoot
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- narrative quest quest
SANGUINE STEEL (blood mecha; original narrative quest)
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Intro
The early summer went without incident. Nothing changed in your drafty clay shelter or in your routine, just scattered work on the docks when you could get a chance. Everything was stilled by the heat, and even the news the tiny seaside hamlet got from passing traders was monotonous: no armies sweeping the land like locusts, no rumors of revolts in the north, barely a hint of titans rampaging in the Plains. You didn't expect life to start changing here, or elsewhere, and that was the best you could hope for. After all, you were a peasant among peasants, and as for the wider world there had *been* no wars in quite some time, not that that stopped the tax collectors and threats of conscription. It was an Age of Peace.
The only things that changed were the stars, wheeling above to mark the seasons, and so you watched them night after night.
And that is how you found yourself hurrying through the streets of the hamlet, transfixed by a red star in the cold sky. One that moved faster than any astronomer's "wandering star" or meteor. One that was getting closer.
By the time it fell to the earth, you were close enough to hear the impact. Then silence as you approached.
It was a grand colossus of steel, a huge statue that was not at all static but settled and whined metallically as its surface cooled. Covered in designs, precise mechanisms, hatches and the like you could not begin to guess the purpose of. Most of the details were cloaked by stark shadow as it towered above you, barely lit by the starlight, but harsh red light from somewhere above illuminated a grotesque sight.
On the front of the titan (the closest word you knew, though it bore no resemblance to the beasts of legend), haphazardly bound by shackles that extended from the colossus, was a bare human skeleton. A little larger than you would expect one to be, and it showed no signs of decay, with a few parts gilded like some ancient relic. The red lighting flagged, but you glimpsed its source: a tilted halo, flickering violently, that extended above the titan. As you stared into it, bizarre images came to you: red suns raging above you, kings taller than giants brandishing cruel trophies, gleaming beasts wracked by giant threshing-sledges... you struggled to comprehend them as the light died.
The titan moved with surprising precision. It extended a single hand to the earth towards you in a gesture that reminded you of a knighting ceremony. Almost hidden, a small hatch opened at the shoulder, nearly out of sight at that height. Dimmer red lights blinked up the arm, showing - a path, of all things, up the arm and into the hatch.
[ ] What do you do?
The only things that changed were the stars, wheeling above to mark the seasons, and so you watched them night after night.
And that is how you found yourself hurrying through the streets of the hamlet, transfixed by a red star in the cold sky. One that moved faster than any astronomer's "wandering star" or meteor. One that was getting closer.
By the time it fell to the earth, you were close enough to hear the impact. Then silence as you approached.
It was a grand colossus of steel, a huge statue that was not at all static but settled and whined metallically as its surface cooled. Covered in designs, precise mechanisms, hatches and the like you could not begin to guess the purpose of. Most of the details were cloaked by stark shadow as it towered above you, barely lit by the starlight, but harsh red light from somewhere above illuminated a grotesque sight.
On the front of the titan (the closest word you knew, though it bore no resemblance to the beasts of legend), haphazardly bound by shackles that extended from the colossus, was a bare human skeleton. A little larger than you would expect one to be, and it showed no signs of decay, with a few parts gilded like some ancient relic. The red lighting flagged, but you glimpsed its source: a tilted halo, flickering violently, that extended above the titan. As you stared into it, bizarre images came to you: red suns raging above you, kings taller than giants brandishing cruel trophies, gleaming beasts wracked by giant threshing-sledges... you struggled to comprehend them as the light died.
The titan moved with surprising precision. It extended a single hand to the earth towards you in a gesture that reminded you of a knighting ceremony. Almost hidden, a small hatch opened at the shoulder, nearly out of sight at that height. Dimmer red lights blinked up the arm, showing - a path, of all things, up the arm and into the hatch.
[ ] What do you do?
A quest! Set in a vaguely low-fantasy world, apart for one obvious exception. Other than that, think of a late-world-generation Dwarf Fortress world, mostly mundane except for some unfriendly forces of nature.
Readers can suggest and vote on actions to be carried out by the main character. These actions will be resolved by me, occasionally with dice rolls.
Feel free to suggest an action - and, at this point, a name for our main character!
Readers can suggest and vote on actions to be carried out by the main character. These actions will be resolved by me, occasionally with dice rolls.
Feel free to suggest an action - and, at this point, a name for our main character!
Name: ?
(reserved)
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Prayer
[X] Give a prayer for the dead man.
You offer a prayer to the local gods and anything else that might hear, that the skeleton's soul would find rest despite its body not being properly interred. Unless this titan is also a memorial.
As you finish whispering, the titan's head silently cranes to look down at you.
The lights up the arm are still blinking at you.
[ ] What do you do?
You offer a prayer to the local gods and anything else that might hear, that the skeleton's soul would find rest despite its body not being properly interred. Unless this titan is also a memorial.
As you finish whispering, the titan's head silently cranes to look down at you.
The lights up the arm are still blinking at you.
[ ] What do you do?
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Vote closed
Vote closed
Peek
Peek into the hatch.
You navigate the massive arm in a few minutes, making use of every odd foothold the machinery provides, and haul yourself onto the shoulder. The head of the beast does not move as you so but you still feel that some presence here is tracking your every move.
Standing precariously above the trees, you grab the sides of the hatch for balance (gingerly finding the spots where the metal is coolest) and peer in. It's mostly dark inside, but a little light lets you see a few outlines. The hatch is just above the shoulder/neck joint, and it looks like the chamber it opens onto is roughly round and extends below your position by a few dozen feet, the ceiling a few feet above. The meager light frames a giant throne of a bumpy material in the center of the chamber and the top of a cistern of some kind near the back (where the spine would be, were this a human.) After a few moments, you can also tell what is glowing with the interior light.
It's a panel on the front wall of the chamber. A row of symbols in a language you don't know is blinking in sequence, but you do recognize what's swirling jerkily around the characters: an orrery. A representation of the stars above, at least those needed to mark the seasons. The depicted constellations are moving as they would be over the next few weeks, then snapping back to what you know well are their current positions. As if reckoning something.
That's all you can see from outside the hatch. Clinking sounds and oily smells continue drifting out of it.
Then a booming voice almost startles you off your perch.
HELMSMAN [CANDIDATE]. PLEASE ENTER.
You navigate the massive arm in a few minutes, making use of every odd foothold the machinery provides, and haul yourself onto the shoulder. The head of the beast does not move as you so but you still feel that some presence here is tracking your every move.
Standing precariously above the trees, you grab the sides of the hatch for balance (gingerly finding the spots where the metal is coolest) and peer in. It's mostly dark inside, but a little light lets you see a few outlines. The hatch is just above the shoulder/neck joint, and it looks like the chamber it opens onto is roughly round and extends below your position by a few dozen feet, the ceiling a few feet above. The meager light frames a giant throne of a bumpy material in the center of the chamber and the top of a cistern of some kind near the back (where the spine would be, were this a human.) After a few moments, you can also tell what is glowing with the interior light.
It's a panel on the front wall of the chamber. A row of symbols in a language you don't know is blinking in sequence, but you do recognize what's swirling jerkily around the characters: an orrery. A representation of the stars above, at least those needed to mark the seasons. The depicted constellations are moving as they would be over the next few weeks, then snapping back to what you know well are their current positions. As if reckoning something.
That's all you can see from outside the hatch. Clinking sounds and oily smells continue drifting out of it.
Then a booming voice almost startles you off your perch.
HELMSMAN [CANDIDATE]. PLEASE ENTER.
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Hallowing
Quickly look around for the source of the voice then nervously utter "who's there?"
You shout "who's there?" into the night. Nothing responds, then:
ANGEL [CLASS UNKNOWN, RECALIBRATING]. NAME NOT SPECIFIED.
STATUS: WEAPONS: FUNCTIONAL. FUEL: 73 PER CENTUM. CORE: DAMAGED.
HELMSMAN: NONE.
The command repeats. HELMSMAN [CANDIDATE]. PLEASE ENTER.
With the advantage of not being startled half out of your skin this time, it's clear the voice is coming from the chamber inside the titan. So, after a few seconds of deliberation, you step into the hatch.
As soon as you gain your footing on what feels like a metal grating inside, the hatch whirrs shut behind you. You shade your eyes in surprise as the dim lighting brightens a little.
You are on the upper portion of a metal gangway that gently spirals down to the floor of the chamber. The first thing you take in once your eyes adjust is the throne you glimpsed earlier. It would be a pretty austere affair, all dull metal and right angles, if not for the array of spears, halberds, and less recognizable weaponry racked along the back and sides of it in a dazzling panoply. Is this array an armory or a collection of trophies? You can't tell, and you've really never seen so much elaborate weaponry collected in one place before.
The walls of the chamber are inset with machinery, valves, and other apparatus leading eventually to the cistern at the back. A slitted window runs down the side of the cistern, which appears to extend beyond the floor, and you can see a dark liquid sloshing inside. The color of the liquid, warmth of the area, and a faint smell tell you it is blood, somehow appearing as fresh as whenever it entered this cistern.
You walk over to look at the orrery panel, which is still repeating its imitation of the stars. A smaller panel is set below it, with more symbols you don't recognize.
What does all this mean? You call out, "what are you?"
I AM A [?, titan, machine, ?].
"Wha... I don't know that word."
HOLD STILL.
You barely catch sight of a metallic arm descending from the ceiling before it stings you momentarily on the neck. Something squirms, as if cradled by your spine, before the feeling disappears. As the arm retreats, the voice seems to become less harsh, less alien, and you understand when it repeats:
I AM A MECH. AN ANGEL. I WAS BUILT AND HALLOWED TO BRING WAR.
I AM A WEAPON. YOU WILL BE MY WIELDER.
The voice seems to come from all around you, now, like a theophany.
"...why?"
I CAN GIVE YOU WAR. POWER. SAFETY. A VESSEL. CHANGE. CATASTROPHE.
IN RETURN YOU WILL BE MY HELMSMAN. I WAS NOT HALLOWED TO ACT AUTONOMOUSLY.
THIS WORLD STAGNATES. WAR COMES TO IT, FROM US OR NO.
That isn't much clearer. But you can tell when you are being given a choice. Something beyond what you could expect this world to give you otherwise, no matter what it entails. So you accept.
"I will be your helmsman. You will give me..."
[X] ...WAR.
[X] ...SAFETY.
[X] ...A VESSEL.
[X] ...CHANGE.
[X] ...CATASTROPHE.
Please pick two of the above; they will determine, essentially, the class of the mech.
WELCOME, PILOT. THIS ANGEL IS NOT NAMED. SET NAME?
[ ] What shall you name this mech?
[ ] And what is your next question?
You shout "who's there?" into the night. Nothing responds, then:
ANGEL [CLASS UNKNOWN, RECALIBRATING]. NAME NOT SPECIFIED.
STATUS: WEAPONS: FUNCTIONAL. FUEL: 73 PER CENTUM. CORE: DAMAGED.
HELMSMAN: NONE.
The command repeats. HELMSMAN [CANDIDATE]. PLEASE ENTER.
With the advantage of not being startled half out of your skin this time, it's clear the voice is coming from the chamber inside the titan. So, after a few seconds of deliberation, you step into the hatch.
As soon as you gain your footing on what feels like a metal grating inside, the hatch whirrs shut behind you. You shade your eyes in surprise as the dim lighting brightens a little.
You are on the upper portion of a metal gangway that gently spirals down to the floor of the chamber. The first thing you take in once your eyes adjust is the throne you glimpsed earlier. It would be a pretty austere affair, all dull metal and right angles, if not for the array of spears, halberds, and less recognizable weaponry racked along the back and sides of it in a dazzling panoply. Is this array an armory or a collection of trophies? You can't tell, and you've really never seen so much elaborate weaponry collected in one place before.
The walls of the chamber are inset with machinery, valves, and other apparatus leading eventually to the cistern at the back. A slitted window runs down the side of the cistern, which appears to extend beyond the floor, and you can see a dark liquid sloshing inside. The color of the liquid, warmth of the area, and a faint smell tell you it is blood, somehow appearing as fresh as whenever it entered this cistern.
You walk over to look at the orrery panel, which is still repeating its imitation of the stars. A smaller panel is set below it, with more symbols you don't recognize.
What does all this mean? You call out, "what are you?"
I AM A [?, titan, machine, ?].
"Wha... I don't know that word."
HOLD STILL.
You barely catch sight of a metallic arm descending from the ceiling before it stings you momentarily on the neck. Something squirms, as if cradled by your spine, before the feeling disappears. As the arm retreats, the voice seems to become less harsh, less alien, and you understand when it repeats:
I AM A MECH. AN ANGEL. I WAS BUILT AND HALLOWED TO BRING WAR.
I AM A WEAPON. YOU WILL BE MY WIELDER.
The voice seems to come from all around you, now, like a theophany.
"...why?"
I CAN GIVE YOU WAR. POWER. SAFETY. A VESSEL. CHANGE. CATASTROPHE.
IN RETURN YOU WILL BE MY HELMSMAN. I WAS NOT HALLOWED TO ACT AUTONOMOUSLY.
THIS WORLD STAGNATES. WAR COMES TO IT, FROM US OR NO.
That isn't much clearer. But you can tell when you are being given a choice. Something beyond what you could expect this world to give you otherwise, no matter what it entails. So you accept.
"I will be your helmsman. You will give me..."
[X] ...WAR.
[X] ...SAFETY.
[X] ...A VESSEL.
[X] ...CHANGE.
[X] ...CATASTROPHE.
Please pick two of the above; they will determine, essentially, the class of the mech.
WELCOME, PILOT. THIS ANGEL IS NOT NAMED. SET NAME?
[ ] What shall you name this mech?
[ ] And what is your next question?
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Recalibration
NAME SET: CELESTINE!
The panel in front of the room switches to show a view of the night outside, distorted so the sky directly above Celestine is prominent. Red light flickers up and down Celestine's chassis as a floating pinpoint of incandescent orange appears. It expands and the flickering light becomes more stable until you can tell it is a halo like the one you saw earlier, similar violent images flashing above.
RECEIVING CLASS RECALIBRATION DATA....
THIS BLESSING WILL RECONFIGURE MY CORE TO BETTER CARRY OUT THE PARAMETERS I OFFERED YOU.
Celestine's voice slows slightly as the halo reaches its brightest point. Then the halo is gone and a low rumbling begins throughout the mech as the panel switches back to its view of symbols and orrery.
YOU ASKED HOW LONG I HAD BEEN HERE, PILOT. ONLY ABOUT [A MONTH], BUT I SPENT THAT TIME FAR ABOVE YOUR WORLD, AMONG THE VOID. BEFORE THEN I WAS IN ANOTHER REALM ENTIRELY. OTHERS OF MY KIND ARE IN FLIGHT AS WE SPEAK.
The orrery flashes a few times to draw your attention.
THAT REPRESENTS THE TIME UNTIL THE CLOSEST OF THEM SHOULD FALL.
The rumbling continues, and Celestine informs you that this 'recalibration' will take a bit. What questions do you have in the meantime?
(Feel free to ask any number of them; while within Celestine's chassis, talking with the mech will essentially be a free action.)
The panel in front of the room switches to show a view of the night outside, distorted so the sky directly above Celestine is prominent. Red light flickers up and down Celestine's chassis as a floating pinpoint of incandescent orange appears. It expands and the flickering light becomes more stable until you can tell it is a halo like the one you saw earlier, similar violent images flashing above.
RECEIVING CLASS RECALIBRATION DATA....
THIS BLESSING WILL RECONFIGURE MY CORE TO BETTER CARRY OUT THE PARAMETERS I OFFERED YOU.
Celestine's voice slows slightly as the halo reaches its brightest point. Then the halo is gone and a low rumbling begins throughout the mech as the panel switches back to its view of symbols and orrery.
YOU ASKED HOW LONG I HAD BEEN HERE, PILOT. ONLY ABOUT [A MONTH], BUT I SPENT THAT TIME FAR ABOVE YOUR WORLD, AMONG THE VOID. BEFORE THEN I WAS IN ANOTHER REALM ENTIRELY. OTHERS OF MY KIND ARE IN FLIGHT AS WE SPEAK.
The orrery flashes a few times to draw your attention.
THAT REPRESENTS THE TIME UNTIL THE CLOSEST OF THEM SHOULD FALL.
The rumbling continues, and Celestine informs you that this 'recalibration' will take a bit. What questions do you have in the meantime?
(Feel free to ask any number of them; while within Celestine's chassis, talking with the mech will essentially be a free action.)
Recalibration 2/3
"Is there some kind of storage unit or something I could keep food and a cold drink in?"
THE HATCH ON THE FLOOR OF THIS PILOTING DECK LEADS TO A BERTH AND STORAGE.
MY FORMER PILOT SUSTAINED HERSELF BY INTRAVENING THE BLOOD OF WAR FROM MY FUEL STORAGE. BUT SHE WAS A VERY EXPERIENCED PILOT BY THAT TIME. I ADVISE EATING FOOD.
"How does maintenance work? do I need to find parts, or would quality materials do? any idea how I can get the money for either?"
I CAN INCORPORATE RAW MATERIALS SLOWLY WHILE RESTING, BUT FOR FASTER REPAIR OR DEEPER INJURIES, I WILL NEED PARTS FROM OTHER MECHS OR MANUAL REPAIR BY YOU. LIKE ALL MY FUNCTIONS, THE REPAIR PROCESS ALSO CONSUMES [FUEL, BLOOD]. AS FOR THE MONEY, I DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT THIS WORLD'S BUSINESS.
"How many things like you are there?"
EVER? MYRIADS. APPROACHING YOUR WORLD? PROBABLY A DOZEN AS THE VANGUARD FORCE.
"Are the other approaching units also going to bind themselves to Helmspeople of this realm, or are they autonomous?"
MOST OF THEM STILL HAVE THEIR PILOT. THE FEW THAT DON'T MUST FIND HELMSPEOPLE; NONE ARE AUTONOMOUS.
"Why did you choose this realm?"
IT WAS NOT UP TO ME, OR ANY OF US. A GREATER [FORCE, BLESSING] POINTED US HERE: THE SENSE THAT THIS WORLD WAS BECOMING SILENT.
"Why did you choose this place to land?"
I WANTED SPARSE POPULATION, SO AS TO FIND A SOLITARY PILOT AND NOT A CURIOUS MOB.
ALSO, ORBITAL SCANS SHOWED THERE ARE MANY METAL DEPOSITS NEAR THIS REGION, SO PERHAPS THE INDUSTRIES TO SUPPORT METALLIC RAW MATERIALS ARE TOO.
Celestine is right about that. You've never traveled that far, but the more populous cities in this region are concentrated around foundries and mining operations.
"Is there anything I can do to assist you? You have already done so much for me, I feel that I owe you something in return."
I ONLY ASK THAT YOU CARE FOR ME AS YOU WOULD A VALUED WEAPON: DON'T LET ME RUST, AND DON'T LET ME REST.
The background hum continues with Celestine's class recalibration.
This recalibration will finish at the end of the next update. Note that Celestine is immobile til recalibration completes. Any other questions in the meantime?
Note: when possible, I will try to carry out all votes that don't conflict with each other in one turn (in-game time/plausibility permitting, and this won't apply if plan voting is going on.)
THE HATCH ON THE FLOOR OF THIS PILOTING DECK LEADS TO A BERTH AND STORAGE.
MY FORMER PILOT SUSTAINED HERSELF BY INTRAVENING THE BLOOD OF WAR FROM MY FUEL STORAGE. BUT SHE WAS A VERY EXPERIENCED PILOT BY THAT TIME. I ADVISE EATING FOOD.
"How does maintenance work? do I need to find parts, or would quality materials do? any idea how I can get the money for either?"
I CAN INCORPORATE RAW MATERIALS SLOWLY WHILE RESTING, BUT FOR FASTER REPAIR OR DEEPER INJURIES, I WILL NEED PARTS FROM OTHER MECHS OR MANUAL REPAIR BY YOU. LIKE ALL MY FUNCTIONS, THE REPAIR PROCESS ALSO CONSUMES [FUEL, BLOOD]. AS FOR THE MONEY, I DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT THIS WORLD'S BUSINESS.
"How many things like you are there?"
EVER? MYRIADS. APPROACHING YOUR WORLD? PROBABLY A DOZEN AS THE VANGUARD FORCE.
"Are the other approaching units also going to bind themselves to Helmspeople of this realm, or are they autonomous?"
MOST OF THEM STILL HAVE THEIR PILOT. THE FEW THAT DON'T MUST FIND HELMSPEOPLE; NONE ARE AUTONOMOUS.
"Why did you choose this realm?"
IT WAS NOT UP TO ME, OR ANY OF US. A GREATER [FORCE, BLESSING] POINTED US HERE: THE SENSE THAT THIS WORLD WAS BECOMING SILENT.
"Why did you choose this place to land?"
I WANTED SPARSE POPULATION, SO AS TO FIND A SOLITARY PILOT AND NOT A CURIOUS MOB.
ALSO, ORBITAL SCANS SHOWED THERE ARE MANY METAL DEPOSITS NEAR THIS REGION, SO PERHAPS THE INDUSTRIES TO SUPPORT METALLIC RAW MATERIALS ARE TOO.
Celestine is right about that. You've never traveled that far, but the more populous cities in this region are concentrated around foundries and mining operations.
"Is there anything I can do to assist you? You have already done so much for me, I feel that I owe you something in return."
I ONLY ASK THAT YOU CARE FOR ME AS YOU WOULD A VALUED WEAPON: DON'T LET ME RUST, AND DON'T LET ME REST.
The background hum continues with Celestine's class recalibration.
This recalibration will finish at the end of the next update. Note that Celestine is immobile til recalibration completes. Any other questions in the meantime?
Note: when possible, I will try to carry out all votes that don't conflict with each other in one turn (in-game time/plausibility permitting, and this won't apply if plan voting is going on.)