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Year 14

About Techn0geist

  • Birthday 01/05/1998

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Emerging Mata Nuian Protector

Emerging Mata Nuian Protector (134/293)

  1. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Mard suppressed a shudder; just when he thought they were out of the woods. He became acutely aware of their abandoned guardsman spears, leaning a short distance away against the ring fence. He sorely missed the collection of javelins he'd just stashed away. He glanced at his partner, happy to let him take the lead. Ahmoa returned only his warm smile, the focal point of his entire world the blunt training axe under his hands. He hefted it up onto his shoulder, casual-like. In his hands, it could do little more than bruise shins. In full focus again, both Agori experienced the crescendo of their creeping realisation; something looming, much bigger than the guardsmen, the Glatorian, Atero and the Grand Tournament. The mystery of Ferrum. The mystery of— "Del." Ahmoa stated curtly, offering nothing more than what the cyborg had asked. He would not lie, but obfuscation was certainly in his arsenal. "That was the name they gave us." If Lorqua was to be believed, then Lutenus seemed to make a habit of casual manipulation. Mard took another angle; deflection, trying to draw at least Lorqua away from the line of inquiry. "Uhhh, what is your scene then? You've got some fighting talent, you a guard like us maybe?" A pitiable attempt at rapport-building. OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty
  2. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Play it cool, Ahmoa thought, planting the handle-end of the axe in the sand and crossing his hands atop the blade. "You're right on one count, ma'am, but sadly mistaken on another. We follow the Grand Tournament season as closely as we can, we could be said to be "fans"; alas our position does not afford us the luxury of travelling to see the bouts themselves." Play it cool, Mard thought, awkwardly hugging the bundle of javelins to his chest and trying not to let any spill. "Yeah, we don't own this joint, we're just staff. Our boss, that's the lucky sonovabitch who jets all across the desert for the Gee-Tee. And every other damn fight. 'Business trips', my be-hind." Mard had no fear of admonishment for his comments, given the target of them was scarcely present for anyone to report them. Ahmoa was caught halfway between rolling his eyes and chuckling at Mard as he shuffled away to stow the javelins in the equipment shed, deciding on neither. "We look after the grounds while the proprietor is tending to his many-other ventures. As such, it is rare for us to attend Tournament matches even when they come Atero-way, given those tend to be our busiest seasons." The Vulcanusian put on his best customer-facing smile. "Don't fret, after tonight's performance we'll be sure to keep an eye and ear out for your names in the Tournament roster. Should either of you make it to the Atero stages, and if fortune smiles on us, you may even see us ring-side." He didn't even tell this to every client, honest. "You'll definitely see me at the betting tables!" Mard exclaimed as he returned, dusting off his hands. "Lorqua, your odds just went up." His excitement was only half-put-on, the green guard known to make the odd wager. "It would only be fair for me to put some coinage down on Lutenus here, then." Ahmoa replied with a grin, and no intent of following through on that. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui Apologies! I've been remiss in posting these boys for some months now 😅
  3. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite only stared, Celrys's reach seeming to exceed Del's grasp for the time being. Any wariness they felt about the wreath however had slipped away, trust in the artificer reasserting itself. An electrical impulse, of a sort. He was, somewhere between coy knowing and playful obliviousness, beginning to speak their language. <<Celrys to perform external diagnostic.>> "Celrys to perform external diagnostic...?" The tiniest tonal upturn. <<Celrys to— >> "—test Del I?" OOC: @a goose @Snelly
  4. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Glatorian stared unblinking, taking the engineer's brief cardiologic explanation as given, subconsciously connecting word to sound to substance to function. Optimising their understanding of their frame. Del gave a little nod. This explanation was taking a great deal more processing for Del to wrap their head around. The leap from literal to metaphorical was still just a span too far. Del lifted their hand away from their chest. Clink. The glass of the stethoscope tapped against Del's helmet. The expected thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum was absent; instead the quiet vibration from the cooling fans, running at low speed now, gently sounded into their ears. <<Query.>> "Mind... no sound?" In a surprising few ways, this was true. OOC: @a goose @Snelly
  5. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero The duo returned Lorqua's bow, Ahmoa flashing another rare grin "Oh no, thank you. You're our first clients of the tournament season; if the field is of this calibre, I believe we're in for a hell of a show." Ever the jovial host. Ahmoa restrained a sigh of relief. As much as he enjoyed the spectacle the Glatorian provided, he didn't much fancy their continued company. His partner didn't quite catch himself and exhaled much more heavily than usual. Overcompensating, Mard attempted to mask it with a cheesy smile and a loose salute. "Hate to see ya rush off! Where're you two headed?" He and Ahmoa both felt they knew the answer, that familiar fear for their rare companion washing through their beings again. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun "Nominal," Del asserted, but quickly reassessed. "Optimal. Thank you, Skyra Daring. Del I always look at the glass as half full, ya know?" Again the driver's words, and returning the thumbs-up, had seemed the right thing. Mileage may vary. As before the Ferrumite regarded the device Celrys presented to them, now with a measure of analytical curiosity, reaching out slowly and taking the stethoscope awkwardly between thumbs and forefingers. "you put the buds in your ears," Del repeated in word and act, sliding the apparatus under their helmet and nestling the buds in. They bore a little of Celrys's body warmth. "against the left side of the chest." Again to the letter, they gently placed the disc. The glass was cold and it radiated out— Thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, thu— Del pulled the disc away with a start, trying to throw it away but stopped by the buds in their ears, the stethoscope clattering against their breast. The sound had filled their ears, their skull, startled the Glatorian. Wide-eyed seconds passed and curiosity reasserted itself. With a hint of caution, they again took the disk and pressed it to their chest. Thu-thumthu-thumthu-thum thu-thum thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, The thudding was faster but gradually slowed and steadied and stayed steady. "What is..." Del struggled for the words, finding no suitable substitute for the sound, "...buh-buh buh-buh buh-buh?" The obviousness of the impending simile would elude Del, and perhaps Skyra. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Snelly @a goose
  6. IC: Del - Floor, Celrys's Workshop, Tajun They did not immediately take the helmet from Celrys, instead peering inside at the new installed "wreath". A perceptive individual would have seen the uniform micro-movements of their eyes and sworn Del was regarding the device with uncertainty. <<...>> Perhaps even suspicion. <<...Maintain awareness.>> "we gotta have a positive outlook." they mumbled as they reached out to reclaim their headgear; it seemed the right thing to say. The helmet slid on smooth and fit only a little tighter than before. The moment it settled on the crown of their head the concealed fans whirred to life, dispersing the last of the implant's accumulated heat. More stretching, and motor control was much closer to acceptable parameters. Del sat now on the edge of the chair, formulating their next query. "Oh, yes, the wreath?" the Glatorian mimicked with an upward inflection. OOC: @a goose @Snelly
  7. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Glatorian cocked their head a couple degrees, holding Skyra's gaze. A droplet of cool water rolled down the side of the bag and dripped off the corner. Lords only knew what buzzed around Del's head in those moments, those thoughts entirely disconnected from the Ferrumite raising their curled hand to return the thumbs-up. Their little finger stayed tucked in this time. OOC: @Snelly @a goose
  8. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Wincing at that last spear blow, glancing but painful-looking as it was, the referee took up both his and his partner's spears, the dull clank-clank-clank of Mard bashing their heads together poorly emulating the proper ding-ding-ding of some arenas' bells. "Cease! Lorqua of the Jungle Tribe wins!" He bellowed. "That was good fighting, you two! I trust you'll bring that and more to the Grand Tournament!" Ahmoa restrained a chuckle at how Mard rolled his eyes; this was a line oft-used by him after a training match, meant to congratulate the victor and encourage the defeated. The duo had not seen such a bout, or indeed any bout, for a time now; so entertained were they by the prowess and ingenuity of the two combatants that their supposed ulterior motive had almost slipped their minds. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite processed the question. <<Colloquial. Status update requested.>> "...Nominal." A pause. Slowly the weight of their legs dragged them down. "...Thank you." Another, gentler thud as their torso slid off the surgery chair and to the floor. Del seemed not to notice, nor mind. After a short time and some experimental wriggling and stretching Del was able to somewhat right themself, sitting on the floor with their back against the chair's base, holding the ice to their head. "Hanging in there?" They queried, looking up at Skyra. The intonation did not betray if they were asking for the meaning of the phrase, or a status update in kind from the driver. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Snelly @a goose
  9. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun "and there's another crowd to drown in crying eyes" Under Celrys and Skyra's dialogue they had missed a whole mumbled pre-chorus. Del continued. "and see how that light you love now just won't shine" <<...Temperat-t-t-tures within op-p-erational range. R-R-Reinitialising. Caution advised.>> "there might just be another star that's high and far—" Abruptly the singing stopped, and a worrying few seconds passed. <<Analysing scenario.>> Del blinked twice and their eyes began to again rotate in their orbits, finding their surroundings, then finding faces. First Skyra Daring's, then Celrys's. <<No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> The ice against their head staved off any further thermal spikes as they ran an assessment of the last few minutes. Pinpointed the moment the implant began to experience that hideous heat climbing. <<Helmet removal correlates with increased thermal output and catastrophic shutdown. Wearing helmet correlates with ideal thermal range and optimal performance.>> "Take that helmet off... let me get a proper look at you..." They rolled Celrys's words over slowly. <<Retrieve.>> The Glatorian's slack muscles struggled and ultimately failed to remove them from the chair, motor control faculties taking their time to return; their legs dangled over the edge and their torso sat at an awkward angle. <<...Request. Politely.>> "Helmet... please?" OOC: @Snelly @a goose
  10. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The only light Del saw was the one shining down above the chair; they stared through it, through the surgery's ceiling and through Bara Magna's outer atmosphere. The ice to their head and Skyra's loud, unmistakable voice kept the Glatorian on the edge of lucidity, a gentle hand keeping them from sliding into deepest delirium. <<...>> <<...>> It would be a time before the D3•L3•G8 implant reached safe operational temperatures again. <<...>> <<...>> Del blinked in regular, automatic intervals. <<...>> <<...>> "packed and all eyes turned in" Del's lips just barely twitched. "no one to see on the quay no one waving for me" More an exhalation than a recitation. "just the shoreline receding" Not mimicry. Not a long-gone right-there voice quaking inside a splitting, aching head. "ticket in my hand i'm thinking wish I didn't hand it in" From somewhere basal. Somewhere melodic. OOC: @a goose @Snelly
  11. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The pair stumbled towards the surgery, Del indeed weighing heavy on Skyra's shoulders; muscularly the Glatorian was absolutely fine but the mind, the willpower to move, could scarcely be engaged without risking further damage. The Ferrumite's cooling helmet lay abandoned on the office floor. Passing the threshold, the patient chair was regarded by Del with something like curiosity and nothing like recognition. "He'sss gonna hhhelp you... get betterrr..." The Glatorian made another dangerous push towards original thought, risked another heat spike. "Celllrys help Delll I get better... Skyrrra Daring helppp Celrysss... help Del Iii..." <<C-C-C-Caution: scaling therm-m-mal throttling. B-B-Brace.>> The straw that broke the Sand Stalker's back. Del's legs collapsed out from under them, sending them falling forward, shoulder-checking the chair and wheeling to land flat on their back with a thud that could surely be heard from the reception. In their stunned delirium, the words needed to finish their thought floated errant to the surface; a lesson in manners from a kind, if irritated green Agori. "Thank you..." OOC: @Snelly @a goose @Morgan Yu
  12. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero "Oof! Ouch." Ahmoa proclaimed involuntarily as Lorqua brought Lutenus's axe charge to a stop with her shield-bash. "A tad rough, don't you think?" "Pull your blows, last warning! That looked nasty!" Mard barked at the combatants, wondering how bad Lutenus would feel the bruising come morning. But the counterattack had left Lutenus wide-open, and the referee readied himself to call the fight. Seeing how Lorqua had turned the tables so quickly however, he couldn't count out Lutenus doing the same just yet. So uncannily quick to push the attack, the two Agori wondered how that would translate to defensive recovery and offensive response. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun Del returned Karak's brief glance as he left the clinic, trying and failing to decipher what was happening behind the blood-red Glatorian's eyes. <<Analysing scenario.>> The information imparted by Celrys gave Del rare pause. The heat climbing inside their head spiked. <<Unknown quantity aided Del I leave isolation. Unknown quantity, voice, dire— >> Del's process was interrupted only briefly by Skyra Daring's colourful freakout, barely even a tick. << —cted Del I find Celrys. Del I find Celrys.>> <<Nemoni. Nemoni. Nemoni.>> Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a skipping record needle. <<Cannot reconcile. N-N-N-Nemoni not I. Del I. Name Del I. I-I-Identity Del I...>> A fierce sweat broke on their brow. Their mind was running hot now, dangerously hot. It had to throttle back, hard. <<Quarantine w-w-when sick people... p-p-prevent-t-t-t making others sick-k-k-k-k-k...>> "Youuu cooontracted thhhe Ferrummm Plagggue..." Del slurred out in lazy repetition, abandoning their usual precision speaking clip. "Theeey hhhave the Ferrum Plaaague..." The helmet, slipping from their hands, clanged loudly onto the floor. Del looked up to Celrys, to Skyra. Their vision swam, their face clammy and their forehead hot with fever. <<Q-Q-Q-Query.>>> "Del I... sick?" OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Morgan Yu @a goose @Snelly
  13. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun Del made assessment of their not-father Celrys as he approached, observed, scrutinised. Doing as requested, the Glatorian reached up; the moment the helmet slipped away from their head, the fans which had been silently whirling within ceased. A heat began to rise, creeping. Beneath the Iron Tribal's helmet lay gentle green; not like the lush jungle growth of Tesara, but an ancient forest on a moonlit night. Their eyes glowed dimly, the narrow visor of their headwear no longer focusing teal light amidst shadowed face. <<No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> Not taking their eyes of the artificer until the last possible moment, Del turned their head slowly to the right. The aquarium's shimmering light played across their bare scalp before catching and glinting off a small metal plate, the only exterior sign of the implant occupying a humble portion of Del's skull. Beneath the Celtech maker's mark, Celrys's eyes began to play over the delicate engraving of a serial number. D3•L— Their head, the plate, snapped away to look over the other shoulder to Karak. The intonation, the indignation, was alien to Del, so far versed (for a given value) only in much more measured interlocution. <<Dialogue experiment.>> Del faced Celrys again and, surprisingly loud for the until-now reserved Glatorian, demanded in turn: "What you do him, metal man?!" Immediately they decided the manner of engagement did not match the preceding interaction and resumed a more neutral sitting posture once again, eyes still resting on Celrys. More interestingly, 'What you do him' was noted as well. This function of identity, as they had already with names, would be assessed at a later date. More spirited back-and-forth between Del's companions and the cyberneticist, and the conversation turned to Ferrum's fate. The voice unlike anything else in Del's head arose once more, and their words spilled from the Glatorian's mouth. "I broke quarantine, got us out of Ferrum." A pause, preceding innocent query. "Ferrum... is? Quarantine is?" OOC: @a goose @Morgan Yu @Snelly
  14. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite sat transfixed by the aquarium for a time, the organic fish flitting and twirling so graceful through the water, the robo-fish turning and darting sharply around in grotesque imitation, eyes struggling to settle on any one specimen. The voice from the far door broke their trance, Del's head snapping towards it. <<Analysing scenario.>> They followed Celrys as he approached and sat and grinned with impish glee, beckoning for their lurid tale and gleaming with garish gold; a picture of nauseating excess. <<Unknown quantity.>> No familiarity passed through the Glatorian's head at all. This man in front of them, this clinic, this city. Not a hint. Del's eyes bored through Celrys's lens and, one more time, uttered the words that had brought them so far across the desert. "Find Celrys. He's your father I suppose." <<Query.>> "Father is?" they repeated, still without answer. <<Clarification.>> Putting together context clues, the analytical mind queried further. "Celrys... is? Celrys... you?" OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @a goose
  15. IC: Sohmak - Fleeing The Battle of Fort Garsi The bruiser began to jog after the geek, a halfhearted few steps before again slowing to a halt. He looked over his shoulder, again trying to see beyond the mist. Jojax was a braggart, the worst kind of braggart; one who hadn't earned it yet. Bloodline and birthright meant jack in Sarke. But she'd courage to step into the ring all the same, courage to fight and claim that right to proclaim her glory and the glory of her Ancestors. And further, courage to take that fire into the real world, standing on the enemy side of their barricade and daring the warriors of Fortress Garsi to cross her. Sohmak couldn't quite profess to have that kind of mettle. But for the wrestler to make it back alive, he may have to. Sohmak gulped, and hesitantly activated his Thermal Vision to see exact numbers. The violently hot Krex seemed to be the only one overlooking their retreat. And there, his sister-in-arms, warm rivulets leeching into the cold soil around her. He shook off nausea as his sight returned to normal. "T'harrak," he spoke in a grave tone, "you trust 'er. Trust me to get 'er out of this mess." Sohmak faced the rest of the crew and barked "Stay long as you can, any heat and you scram." He turned now to the battlefield. "I don't make it back, it's been far from a pleasure." A bitter grimace, and the Spineless Slugger charged out, disappearing from Razorfish;Vaa's view. Outside their cloud-cover, Sohmak now felt more exposed than before he'd entered it. The crew had made good ground back towards their boat; sounds of war still echoed over the landscape, but far from where he stood now. He knew stealth would be a tall ask with the heavy exo-gauntlets he wore, but still he scrabbled through and snuck behind what terrain he could on his approach to Jojax's position, praying it was enough to break Krex's line-of-sight. OOC: @Nato G @ARROW404 @Smudge8 @Geardirector
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