Apocalypse Junction

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
"Never heard of it. What's a 'corp?'" Mashimir asks. It's a reasonable question for an inhabitant of Qud.
If the machine isn't made out of zetachrome, it's made out of a very similar material. The spike can be pried free by cutting through the mechanisms of the head. It's apparently hollow, connected by tubing to a series of reservoirs in the machine's torso. Many of the reservoirs are full of blood, for some unknown reason.
The other artifact has a form similar to a pair of gloves constructed of wire framework rather than fabric and connected to power cells located on the back of the hands.

[Rebonack]

[The Microbiome]

A story concluded.

And yet not.

It will take some work, but I'm sure I can repair the moon door I used to arrive here. I just want to be cautious. The leering stalker I met on the other side is the height of the innovation and malice of the Eaters' fashioned into a singular weapon of death. If this place truly is a crossroads between many stars then I may be able to find the artifact I need here and return home. If not, then I'm sure my network in Qud will learn to grow a new ambulatory body to continue the search.

Conviction.

Certainty.

Purpose.

I won't be so easily waylaid in my quest.

A moment passes.

Then, curiosity. What King are you speaking of? I know the Sultans of old, but even their works were built atop the bones of the Eaters' world.

[Rebonack]

[The Microbiome]

A story concluded.

And yet not.

It will take some work, but I'm sure I can repair the moon door I used to arrive here. I just want to be cautious. The leering stalker I met on the other side is the height of the innovation and malice of the Eaters' fashioned into a singular weapon of death. If this place truly is a crossroads between many stars then I may be able to find the artifact I need here and return home. If not, then I'm sure my network in Qud will learn to grow a new ambulatory body to continue the search.

Conviction.

Certainty.

Purpose.

I won't be so easily waylaid in my quest.

A moment passes.

Then, curiosity. What King are you speaking of? I know the Sultans of old, but even their works were built atop the bones of the Eaters' world.

[Jungle Ruins]

"From the context, a shortened version of 'corporation'? Maybe some kind of artisan's guild. Or a group working toward a common cause, such as the Barathumites?" Solahart guesses. "I found a similar word on a few implants in Bethesda. Though the 'corporation' had a different name."

Just one of the oddities the Eaters partook in, no doubt.

As for the artifacts, the gloves are examined quizzically.

"I don't think I can make much use of these. My symbiotes are already akin to wearing steel armor. Not the most resilient, certainly, but they have their own uses. Maybe I can at least determine their function," Solahart says as she begins tinkering with the gloves. She has half a mind to try disassembling them, but she doubts she'll find such an artifact again.

[quillpleasant]

The Microbiome

This place has... everything, if you know where to look. If you show me a memory of the artifact, I can keep an eye out for it. And I have many eyes. Lia has been systematically expanding through much of the Nexus, just enough to easily transport anywhere and spy on certain locations. Nothing wrong with a little reconnaissance.

But you must be careful, as well. You speak of this deathly stalker, and I have no doubt that it is both fearsome and powerful, but that is an apt description of many beings in this place. Gods and monsters walk on every street corner. In other worlds, I was grand and powerful- here, I am little more than a historian. Frustration, but determination as well. The challenges of this place will be met and overcome, no matter what.

In fact, it's a similar feeling to Solahart's own conviction- if with a less direct goal in mind. Lia appreciates that kind of dedication greatly.

Amusement at the question. Oh, I collect stories from many places, and my favorites are the ones of chivalry, knights and royalty. King Pellinore was a ruler in a far distant world, whose family had for generations chased a mysterious beast with little hope of catching it. He followed in their footsteps, even til his body was old and weak, because the pursuit itself was more important than catching it would have been. Depending on the version of the tale, he never lived to see his quest fulfilled. A wistful admiration.

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
The gloves don't look nearly as protective as steel armor. That's probably not their purpose.
Actually they're fairly simplistic in design, but highly useful. The gloves conduct a powerful magnetic force, allowing their wearer to climb on metallic surfaces much like the machine did.
"Anything good?"

[Rebonack]

[The Mircrobiome]

I haven't found one yet, sadly. I've found a few fragments of the material in my travels, but the technology to forge it has been lost.

Solahart shares a memory.

A splinter of a deep violet material, its surface shot through with with ribbons of luminous blue bleeding pure white light. There is an inestimable weight and age to it, like holding a piece of the beginning of the cosmos in the palm of your hand. A feeling of warmth. Of power. Creation and destruction, bound up in a singular form.

Being careful is how I made it as far as I have. Many noble and foolhardy folk have tried to plumb the caves of Qud. The places dark and deep are littered with their bones. I'll do as I have done; move cautiously. Make friends. And learn to fashion a new ambulatory body, as well. That's a secret you've already learned? I know that knowledge would aid me in my quest. I spread my network quickly, but not as swift as my hooves can carry me.

There's hope here. Another secret to share. But what would this valuable information be worth to Lia?

And then a story.

The importance of the journey, I can understand that. The sureness of his conviction is admirable.

[Rebonack]

[Jungle Ruins]

"They're meant to enhance mobility and sturdiness. Akin to magnetic boots, but for the hands. They would help the wearer climb metallic surfaces," Solahart summarizes. Then wistfully glances back at her deerbutt. "Though, even if I lacked my symbiotic second skin I don't know how useful they would be for a hindren. I have a bit more weight down below than the average human."

Very true!

Having a deerbutt certainly causes some issues.

Especially when it comes to riding small elevators.

The spike is examined, along with what appear to be tissue samples inside the machine. "Not zetachrome, sadly," she says, holding the spike up. It would probably make an excellent dagger. "Imagine that a weapon forged from the fundaments of the universe would prove so illusive."

[Earl of Purple]

Desolate Desert- Portal Stone

"That is... Quite unfortunate. Once, there was a network of these, but the Breaking scattered them far and wide- as it did other things. One is at the bottom of the sea, one is here, one in Andor and there was one in the woods near where I grew up, that the Whitecloaks tried to bury." Which is how he knew what they were, and a rough idea of what they were supposed to do.

Ruined Motorway- Trick or Trike

The tricyclist has assembled a small handcart, designed for garden use with four solid rubber wheels. There's no obvious way to hook it up to a horse or unicorn, however, and whilst heavily laden with supplies- bare metal tins, mostly, a large plastic bottle half-filled with water, several battered books mostly lacking covers, a plastic toolbox with a broken latch and a carbon fibre fishing rod. "Trike's busted for good, unless you've got an air pump, a tyre patch kit, and something to straighten the back axle. It's bent to buggery and back."

Ruined Motorway- Rapid Robots

The turret is an open cupola where a figure would once have sat, shooting a machine-gun at things they wanted dead. It doesn't move, and probably couldn't without someone to use it. The doors are unlocked, and creak as they're pulled open. It's not been opened in a long time. The seats in the back, slightly underneath the little turret, are rotten to uselessness, and there's some dried leaves and rubbish in the footwell. Including scraps of burnt clothing and fabric. There's a rack of battle rifles where passengers could reach them, none currently fitted with magazines and presumably empty. In the cab there's two seats, a driver and another. The driver's seat is empty, and the keys are in the ignition. There's a skeleton sat in the passenger's seat, missing a large chunk of its skull and with a pistol lying on its lap.

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
"It's close to as strong, isn't it? Probably still useful," Mashimir comments.
"I'm not exactly lightweight myself, and my current gloves are quite useful." He refers to the two pairs of ulnar stimulators on his two pairs of hands. The telltale black panels of solar cells are visible on the backs of the gloves. Their enhancements to strength and swiftness are very useful to a melee fighter.

[Ironsmith]

[Ruined Motorway - Trike or Treat]

Alice certainly doesn't seem to be interested in helping Khannie move the cart. Either she doesn't think Khannie needs the help or doesn't care if she gets left behind with a task she can't handle. She also doesn't comment on the trike, and abandons that readily, whether Khannie and the cyclist object or not.

The trio will make their way off the road and further out into the wilderness. Alice says nothing throughout the trip, and shuts down any attempt at small talk with a disgruntled "hmph".

After a few hours of trekking, the group arrives at what might generously be considered a campsite. The area most immediately recognizable as such consists of a firepit, which still holds the cold, ashen remains of the campfire that they had here the previous night, and smells faintly of woodsmoke. Next to that are a pair of bedrolls; one neatly made and held down by a pair of fist-sized stones, the other pulled into a circular shape. Further back, there's a third spot, a lean-to fashioned from a tarp and a broken-down pickup truck, under which sits a third bedroll, currently occupied by... someone, it's difficult to make out their features from this distance.

As soon as Alice stops in the camp, the door to the truck swings open, releasing a grey-furred creature that looks something like a youthful boy with feline limbs glued to his torso. He bounds toward the trio on all fours, letting out a yowl of excitement. "She's back! Mistress is back!" He crows ecstatically, going straight for Alice's legs and rubbing up against them.

"Yatos, how 'any ti'es do I ha'e to tell you, don't call 'e 'istress'." Alice objects, laying out the cyclist on the neat bedroll.

"Ooh, right, sorry, I keep forgetting." The cat-boy grins, showing absolutely no signs of regret at all. "Who are your friends?"

"...Our guests. That you in'ited." Alice replies through gritted teeth.

"Did I? Wow! I guess they must really like you to come all this way, then, right, mistress?"

Alice groans and pinches her temples, shaking her head. "Hea'en hel' 'e..." She mutters irritably.

[Rebonack]

[Jungle Ruins]

"Still useful, but not what I need," Solahart admits, offering the 'dagger' to Mashimir since that's clearly his favored weapon. Solahart has always preferred the fires of her own mind to any sort of manufactured weapon. "This chamber doesn't appear to lead anywhere else. I think we should check the first security door we found. I have ways of making obstinate doors yeild."

She stows the gloves in her pack (if nothing else they might make for good bits if she disassembles them later) and heads back through the handy tunnel Mashimir dug. The hindren trots up to the security door on the building opposite the bunker and places her open palm on it.

"You may want to stand back. The heat gets intense."

And then?

The dull glow of the fissures running through her body suddenly flash from dull red to white, searing spores billowing out of her into her surroundings and rapidly ionizing the air into incandescent plasma. The door, the ground, and the fulcrete wall are all reduced to molten slag in a matter of moments. With a gesture she gathers up the stray spores and directs them away in a stream of blazing fire, setting several unfortunate trees alight in the process.

Trees there are over THERE and thus no danger for Mashimir to get puffed on.

Beyond the melted wall, still glowing dull red with heat, is an elevator platform! Just waiting to take some intrepid explorers deeper into the darkness.

"Oh, these always lead somewhere interesting."


[Ruined Motorway - Trike or Treat]

Tendrils of darkness just sort of rise up out of Khannie's shadow to grab onto the wagon. Pulling it along behind herself won't be particularly difficult.

She'll try to raise small talk a few times during the walk, but after being rebuffed she eventually falls into sour silence. At least toward Alice. "Is the patch still holding up?" she asks the trike rider.

The simple answer there is yes.

The patch is a highly advanced bit of medical technology. Khannie seeks out the neon bunkers not JUST because they're cool to explore and she wants to piece together their history, but also because the stuff in them is nifty. She always tries to have a few on her person, especially when she's doing Cape stuff. She's pretty sure hasty application has saved at least three people so far and that's a pretty great thing to know.

And so.

They reach the camp.

Which contains one of the most distressing interpretations of 'cat person' Khannie has encountered in a while.

"Uh, hi? I guess you're Yatos? I'm Khannie. I'm mostly out here doing archeology stuff and helping randos who get shot," she says, shooting Alice a look.

[quillpleasant]

► SHOW SPOILER

[The Mircrobiome]

I haven't found one yet, sadly. I've found a few fragments of the material in my travels, but the technology to forge it has been lost.

Solahart shares a memory.

A splinter of a deep violet material, its surface shot through with with ribbons of luminous blue bleeding pure white light. There is an inestimable weight and age to it, like holding a piece of the beginning of the cosmos in the palm of your hand. A feeling of warmth. Of power. Creation and destruction, bound up in a singular form.

Being careful is how I made it as far as I have. Many noble and foolhardy folk have tried to plumb the caves of Qud. The places dark and deep are littered with their bones. I'll do as I have done; move cautiously. Make friends. And learn to fashion a new ambulatory body, as well. That's a secret you've already learned? I know that knowledge would aid me in my quest. I spread my network quickly, but not as swift as my hooves can carry me.

There's hope here. Another secret to share. But what would this valuable information be worth to Lia?

And then a story.

The importance of the journey, I can understand that. The sureness of his conviction is admirable.

The Microbiome

Lia's memory is deep and crystal clear, and she commits the violet artifact to it. Even without knowing what it was, an object like that would be hard to miss. Of course, she doesn't expect it to just be laying around somewhere- if it's here at all, which she has her doubts on.

Having multiple bodies is incredibly helpful, yes. I currently have several, each with their own purpose and role. But it was not so long ago that I thought of myself as a body first, and a network second. I came to this world as an ambulatory body of a far distant network, one that I feared and hated. When my body died, I understood that my consciousness could not perish so easily- both a blessing and a curse. She shares this information freely, because she doubts that these details will be very helpful- and because there's few people who would really understand what she's talking about.

As for creating more bodies- I grow them just as I would a mushroom, sculpting them to my fancy. But to make them live and function independently, I must imbue them with an aspect of my will and psyche. They are connected to me, but they have their own drive, and I cannot guarantee that our purposes will continually align. It's a strange process, and whether the various Lias are truly their own people or just aspects of a single individual is up to a lot of interpretation.

[Keeper]

Desolate Desert - Portal Stone

"Could this be a double in some way? Because clearly this stone is here, and not in the world you're from. I'm not sure how that would work with the network you're used to having in your world. But as I said, ways of magic don't usually make any sense to me."
Which is unfortunate, since G'nichi lives an extremely magical life.

[Earl of Purple]

Desolate Desert- Portal Stone

"They're old, very old. Old in the Age of Legends, and how they were made... I'm not sure they knew, before the Breaking of the World. They do allow travel to alternate worlds, however. That I do know. But... You said you do not know these. How did you realise this wasn't the same world as where I left? They were a global network, not limited to one continent." Although the buried cars whose wind-polished steel roofs are not something the asha'man is familiar with, he's not seen them or realised what they are yet.

Ruined Motorway --> Camp of Alice & Yatos (Trike or Treat)

"I'm good. Pleased to meet you, Yaltos. I'm Harmony." The tricyclist winces a little and straightens, looking around as her eyes flicker. Instead of seeing light, as she surveys the camp she's looking at heat, hopefully cutting through most illusions that haven't bothered to touch frequencies beyond visible light. It'll also show any areas that have been touched recently, as well as just the current sources of heat.

Somewhere in the Desert

In addition to the tiny frog, there's a larger source of life further away. It's headed in this vague direction, but its current passage won't directly intersect with the man's position and his tiny frog.

If he can see far enough, it's a group of people travelling in a battered old bandvagn, a two-part tracked vehicle designed for operations on soft snow and mud though it serves exceedingly well upon sand and dust. It's not an exceptionally fast vehicle, even with its rather extreme modifications- its had the roof removed of the rear compartment, a faded blue tarpaulin stretched across the gap, and it no longer has glass in its windows.

[Ironsmith]

[Abandoned Motorway - Camp]

"Mistress got shot?" Yatos asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's... oh, wait, no. She shot someone... miss Harmony, I take it."

"Yes. That is indeed what happened." Alice growls. "She had su'lies we needed. S'eaking o' which..."

"Huh? Oh, right, our other guest." Yatos steps to one side as Alice goes back to the cart, searching through it for something ready to eat. "...Anyway, really nice to meet the both of you, misses Khannie and Harmony. You both seem quite nice. We like nice people."

Harmony's heat-vision turns up few oddities. Yatos and Alice both read about as one would expect; core temperatures higher than the surrounding environment, extremities slightly colder than their core. The truck is still faintly radiating warmth; it's been used recently and the engine has yet to cool back down to the ambient temperature. But the figure in the lean-to stands out for... not really standing out. Their temperature is barely above that of the surrounding environment. If not for the fact that they just rolled over, Harmony might have assumed she was looking at a fresh corpse.

[Keeper]

Desolate Desert - Portal Stone

"People enter this realm from others all the time. It is actually a scholarly debate here if anyone is actually from this plane, or if everyone is simply from somewhere else, or descended from someone who is. My family has lived in this Nexus for four generations, personally. Also, you didn't seem to know what a dragon is by my definition, which is a very common symbol where I'm from." Which is to say that he's from a community with a Temple of Bahamut and dragons are a big deal.

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
"I'll go in first." Probably a good idea. Mashimir is big, strong, and specialized in close combat. The slugman slithers onto the platform and waits for the mushroom.

[Rebonack]

[Jungle Ruins]

Mashimir descends.

Solahart will be riding the elevator down next.

Like the platforms spread around some of the jungle ruins back home, this elevator is large enough to comfortably hold one person. One giant slug is pushing it. One giant slug AND a fungal hindren is definitely too many people.

The platform comes to a halt in a wide chamber of crysteel and chrome, the light from Mashimir's source of illumination casting flickering shadows dancing around the chamber. It's cold down here, too, fog drifting across the floor and making contact with the slugman's foot notably unpleasant. Signs have been set up on the walls in the ancient glyphs of the Eaters that slowly morph into comprehensible letters as one gazes at them.

Cryogenics
Epigenetic Engineering
Storage
Arcology

Once he's clear of the platform it will begin to ascend once more.

[Hraithre]

[Somewhere in the desert]

There is a life nearby, below the sand.

A small life, but a life all the same.

Should the swordsman decide to disturb the hidden creature he'll find a very grumpy, very round toad that will begin squeaking at him menacingly. The palm sized animal is of no threat to him. It is likely a threat to nothing larger than termites.

He probably won't be able to get any directions from this beast.

[Somewhere in the Desert]

In addition to the tiny frog, there's a larger source of life further away. It's headed in this vague direction, but its current passage won't directly intersect with the man's position and his tiny frog.

If he can see far enough, it's a group of people travelling in a battered old bandvagn, a two-part tracked vehicle designed for operations on soft snow and mud though it serves exceedingly well upon sand and dust. It's not an exceptionally fast vehicle, even with its rather extreme modifications- its had the roof removed of the rear compartment, a faded blue tarpaulin stretched across the gap, and it no longer has glass in its windows.

The swordsman is curious enough to shift the sand with his foot to see what kind of creature is hiding there. He kneels and watches the toad's display, towering over it, his bulk casting a large shadow on it.

He thinks hard of what a toad being here might mean, such as whether it might mean there's a source of water nearby. But, he has to conclude he does not know enough of toads to make any such deductions. He could eat the tiny creature, but realizes he isn't particularly hungry - hasn't been in a while, really. So, he covers the toad with sand again and lets it go on its way.

Having no thoughts of where to go, the swordsman sits down, crosses his legs, and meditates. As he does, he releases his hold on the souls of the cultists he severed from their bodies, breathing them out into the desert air. Forcibly disconnected from their slumbering deity, they are free to continue to their next lives - may they have better luck there.

After some time, the group of travelers wanders inside the horizon of his second sight. The swordsman can count their soul-flames and hear their vehicle moving through vibrations of the ground long before he opens his eyes and stands up. Even then, he doesn't physically see them, but he doesn't need to - knowing which direction they're in is enough. So he begins a brisk walk, then breaks into a light run to catch up with them - a light run, by his standards. To an ordinary human, he would be like an ostrich running across a savanna.

[Earl of Purple]

Desolate Desert- Portal Stone

"A serpentine creature in red and gold, that's the sign of the Dragon. Rand al'Thor is Lews Therin Telamon reborn, as foretold by the Aes Sedai before the breaking, and has one on each arm. I've... not seen him myself, but the symbol is replicated on the pins given to full Asha'man. I am still only a soldier." He doesn't have any pins! Or a sword, which is a little unusual. But he's got saidin, and what else can one need?

Somewhere in the Desert

There's five people aboard the tracked vehicle, which really isn't all that fast; faster than walking whilst carrying the full load of supplies also aboard, which happens to include a fair bit of water, but it's also not speeding.

As the swordsman approaches, the vehicle slows down slightly and somebody emerges from the side. They're swathed in rags and loose fabric to protect their skin from the sun, and they raise a bolt-action rifle at him. "Hey! What're you doing out here?"

[Rebonack]

[Abandoned Motorway - Camp]

Khannie bites her tongue.

If you like nice people then why the heck do you like Alice?

Alice has gotta be one of the least nice people she's met recently.

It's also worth noting that the shadows Khannie is projecting have no heat signature at all. Well, they're SLIGHTLY cooler than the surroundings. More or less as one would expect from regular shadows. The shade of a tree on a sunny day is, what, ten degrees cooler or so?

Anywho! The shadow tether dissipates once they've arrived at their destination. "Okay, I'm not gunna stay here long. I've still got work to do and stuff. I just wanted to make sure Alice and Harmony got somewhere safe before I split."


[The Microbiome]

The idea of not realizing that your network is you seems strange to Solahart. The idea that her ambulatory body could come to hate the network that grew her seems even MORE strange.

But then, fruiting bodies are usually built from a confluence, right? Solahart is unusual in that she is her own confluence.

I understand. I suppose all I can do is try.

And thus, she tries.

While her growth is certainly accelerated by her psionic power growing another body is going to be a pretty time consuming and resource consuming task. But having another... herself. That could be quite useful.

Live and drink, water-sister. Feel free to maintain your contact with my network. If you ever need to speak and share, I'll be here.

[quillpleasant]

The Microbiome

It is strange, and Lia is quite aware of that fact. Usually she's reluctant to speak on her origins at all, but she feels more at ease with Solahart than the usual strange animals that roam the surface.

Keep me informed of your progress, if you wish. I think you'll find that multiplying makes everything mush easier. A feeling of encouragement and camaraderie. Since Solahart has Lia's back, then vice is also versa.

I will advise my aspects to keep an eye out for your fruiting body- or bodies. Different forms allow different means of communication. For now, I welcome your offer, and we will share space in this wasteland. Live and drink.

It's the first time that Lia has known a being this similar to her who's also an equal. It's a connection that she values greatly.

[Earl of Purple]

Abandoned Motorway- Camp

"Yeah, I'm the rando that got shot. Better'n being eaten by the dead that had been following me for five miles, though. Your, uh, truck. It works?" Harmony's amazed at that. Between the near-decade of neglect and conflict since the Event that collapsed society and the Event's own mysterious influence on electronics, there's nearly no working engines any more- and less fuel to power them with.

She glances occasionally at the moving chap with no apparent body heat, but for all she can tell at the moment he might be wrapped in a thermal blanket or have a mutation that stabilises his body temperature. Seems quite useless on the surface... But it might help deal with extreme temperatures, which is actually very handy.

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
Mashimir peers at the letters. Did they just change shape to something he can read?
Cryogenics he knows. Storage obviously. And arcology too, although he hasn't even seen the word outside a book. But what the heck is "epigenetic?" He waits for the mushroom deer woman to return, bracing himself against the cold. It's unpleasant but he can deal with it.

[Hraithre]

[Somewhere in the desert]

When the swordsman sees the vehicle, he slows down to, by his standards, a leisurely jog, which is still faster than the rickety thing is going at the moment. He comes to a halt when he sees the gun being raised, lifting his hands up. "Nothing", he answers with a conversational tone, "I simply happened here when crossing worlds. I admit to not knowing where 'here' is. I was hoping you could enlighten me."

The tall man, in his stark blacks and pristine whites, stands in great contrast to the ragged person wielding the gun. The gun-wielder might notice he doesn't seem all that frightened by the rifle - he's been shot with worse and lived to tell the tale.

[Keeper]

Desolate Desert - Portal Stone

G’nichi nods.
”That is how I knew. Around here, ‘dragon’ is a bit of a catch-all term for magical creatures that well, have features like mine. Wings, claws, scales, flaming breath. It covers a rather wide range of creature but they are generally powerful. Though I have some Qilin blood, hence the fur and the antlers.”
G’nichi gestures up at his head. He’s grown to like his antlers honestly. It helps that the children like hanging things on them.

[Rebonack]

[Jungle Ruins]

A minute or two later Solahart descends into the cold and the dark, the heat radiating from her a welcome respite against the chill. She moves with careful trepidation, somewhere between reverence and fear.

A hindren is never free of fear.

Even the bravest is still held in its grip.

"It reminds me of Bethesda," Solahart says, eyeing the rime-caked walls cautiously. "At least it isn't crawling with crabs."

Does anyone really like giant flesh eating crabs?

Probably not.

Her gaze follows that of the mollusk man. "Like the inscription on the Sky Bear's icy prison. The Eaters wanted to be sure that whoever came after would know of their intent."

[bc56]

Jungle Ruins
"The crabs weren't all bad. They were good eating," Mashimir comments. His daggers are always ready. "I'm curious what we'll find in the arcology. Never got the chance to visit one myself... Not that they'd let genetic rejects like us inside."

[Rebonack]

[Jungle Ruins]

"Aside from the Putus Templar they're all afar off, beyond the great salt desert," Solahart says as she begins carefully picking her way down the hall just in case they manage to spring a trap or wake a particularly unpleasant monster squatting in the chilled halls. "The humans I've met in my travels have been mostly amiable, aside from the Templar of course. They're... quite insistent on their dislike of those they consider impure. But then again, the Consortium isn't fond of me for much the same reason. As I understand it they consider mushrooms to be rival merchants."

Which is a rather funny thought, she thinks.

As our heroes move toward the archeology they'll soon encounter a number of malfunctioning vents that occasionally blast freezing vapor into the hallway. There are a few slumped forms in the frozen mist, suggesting that some of the denizens (or perhaps later visitors) were caught unaware.

[Gold]

[Ruined Motorway- Rapid Robots]

Ruined Motorway- Rapid Robots

The turret is an open cupola where a figure would once have sat, shooting a machine-gun at things they wanted dead. It doesn't move, and probably couldn't without someone to use it. The doors are unlocked, and creak as they're pulled open. It's not been opened in a long time. The seats in the back, slightly underneath the little turret, are rotten to uselessness, and there's some dried leaves and rubbish in the footwell. Including scraps of burnt clothing and fabric. There's a rack of battle rifles where passengers could reach them, none currently fitted with magazines and presumably empty. In the cab there's two seats, a driver and another. The driver's seat is empty, and the keys are in the ignition. There's a skeleton sat in the passenger's seat, missing a large chunk of its skull and with a pistol lying on its lap.

TALBot relaxes once he gets close enough to tell at a glance that the turret isn't an automatic one. Looking inside the military vehicle, he notes that whatever happened here happened a while ago, since the dead human in the passenger's seat had already fully decomposed.

TASBot leans into the vehicle and grabs the pistol and a battle rifle in turn, carefully inspecting both of them. He memorises their designs, and once he's done will be able to replicate them just as he had fabricated the rocket-powered grenade launcher minutes earlier. The process is something he's always enjoyed doing, in part because it reminds him of when he was little more than a prototype being trained on datasets.

TASBot leaves both guns in the empty backseat and idly tries turning the ignition key, not expecting the car to start. Whether it does or not, he'll then look out of the car while leaning against it to see if anything interesting is immediately visible up ahead.