shay-awenydd

[shay-awenydd]

"Read all about it! Read all about it! Underground red meat black market exposed in Berghardt's underbelly! Clergy worried: the oracle has given no statrments! Read all about it!" The attention-grabbing announcements of a young town crier billowed endlessly into Berghardt's streets of soot and snow.

Low orange sunlight cast the squalid town in an inspirational shine as I took my regular morning walk, pondering how I'd write the next article for the paper. The office within my library provided great shelter from the bitter cold, yes, and served silently as nowhere else, but often what I'd truly need was the exact opposites of these qualities.

"Red meat black market...", I mumbled repeatedly to myself, the article I'd written just the day before already steaming freshly in the hands of a young drone. I grumbled as I came to stand before the crier: "Feral drones and illegal meat dealings... a fuckin' disgrace..."

Though I was already intimately familiar with its contents, for the headlining articles were of my own making, I still threw a coin into the crier's hat and took a copy as my own. As I skimmed over the headline, I said to the young drone: "Have you read this through? It's a damned shame, this is. An affront to this city and its people, not to mention the good church."

"Sorry mister, just skimmed it through right off the print, dunno much but the headlines.", he admitted with an indifferent shrug, then continued, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've coin ta make." He then went on shouting as he did before, overpowering the low grumble of the bustling, smoke-filled streets as I went on my merry way, intimately scanning each article.

Most of these paragraphs of fear-confirming, attention-beckoning writing I remembered in full, flying through their horrible premonitions as if they weren't there at all. However, what then drew my gaze and truly captured it was of lesser-seeming importance, hidden away in the margins between articles: scientific reports, their author one Grim Chulainn.

"Old Grim?", I chuckled, "What's he up to now?" I kept reading, at first intrigued, then increasingly concerned by the words which eagerly filled my processors: news of research concerning the effects of meat consumption, specifically the lingering symptoms of madness, and the strange and cryptic visions which sprung from them.

"Gods Grim... clergy isn't going to like this one. I hope you know what you're getting into..."

Worker drones only really become a danger with they’ve consumed any organic meat and in parental situations.

They become HIGHLY protective of their partners during the carrying process and even more aggressive and protective when the baby is just a pill.

It’s recommended that drones carrying as well as their partners are retired for a brief period of time until the young can walk on its own. Once they baby can walk on it’s own that parental programming starts to die down to a more manageable level and the drones can resume services

For some unknown reason the consumption of meat from living creatures over a short period of time can cause a normal worker drone to become hostile, combative, nonsensical, and feral. They will begin to snarl, growl, show their teeth, bite, nip, and swat. It’s as if consuming meat triggers an unintentional shift to an animalistic mindset. Luckily once the consumption of meat stops the behavior will go away on it’s own

[shay-awenydd]

It is unkown how a worker drone digests organic material, for any attempts at research end in injury or, in some cases, death, and autopsies on deceased subjects reveal nothing out of the ordinary. Communication with the affected has born no useful results, as their speech becomes reduced to nought but cackling, incoherent whispers, and spittle-laden snarls.

Intriguingly enough, the weight of the consumed material does not disappear. Instead, its mass seems to become part of the affected drone as if it were still inside. Over time, the added mass dissipates until returning to the nominal state - aggressive behaviour also lessens by the same degree, fully pacifying only once returned to their original weight. Some hypothesies suggest a kind of assimilation of the consumed meat, becoming part of the drone, though a mechanism for such a process has yet to be found.

Observations have shown that consuming organic matter such as wood, moss, bone or leather have no ill effect on subjects. It is only meat - particularly of red variety - of relative freshness that triggers violent responses (experiments determine that frozen meats have a lessened effect). Causes of this are, like the seemingly disappearing matter yet not mass, currently unknown. However, our top mechanics and drone engineers are working hard on this pressing topic, to ensure the safety and wellbeing of the blessed people of Berghardt.

Awe, tenebre Sol!

Addendum:

Research connects the behaviour of meat-dazed worker drones with the claw- and bite-heavy aggresion of feral machine-hunters. With the help of a volunteering hunter-pacifist , this echelon of intrigue may be explored further. Unfortunately, our research division currently lacks such. If you are a hunter-pacifist, consider sparing us a moment of your time by reporting to the Berghardt administration office.

Worker drones only really become a danger with they’ve consumed any organic meat and in parental situations.

They become HIGHLY protective of their partners during the carrying process and even more aggressive and protective when the baby is just a pill.

It’s recommended that drones carrying as well as their partners are retired for a brief period of time until the young can walk on its own. Once they baby can walk on it’s own that parental programming starts to die down to a more manageable level and the drones can resume services

For some unknown reason the consumption of meat from living creatures over a short period of time can cause a normal worker drone to become hostile, combative, nonsensical, and feral. They will begin to snarl, growl, show their teeth, bite, nip, and swat. It’s as if consuming meat triggers an unintentional shift to an animalistic mindset. Luckily once the consumption of meat stops the behavior will go away on it’s own

[shay-awenydd]

There are days when the winds whisper all there is to say, and when solitude is company enough. On those weary nights, when lonely thoughts drift away from light and whispy snowfall serves as scarce delight, there is often nought one can say to ease the pain.

Away from people, nothing more. Away from all that leave you sore. Away from expectations of the crowd, always cloaked in that dark and lonely shrowd. Unleash the wings at last, ruffle the feathers; leave the wicked past, so that you may feel a little better.

Some say silence speaks one thousand words. At least it speaks them softly.

Days where she doesn’t want to be found...

[shay-awenydd]

Wicked winds within these lands whispered hushed and hurried neverendingly, telling terrible, tall tales of a witch who speaks to the pasts of this planet's plentiful grim cast.

It was only when I sat to pray before a fallen drone, conducting the rite, blessing their eternal night, that from the shadows came an unfamiliar form: a machine just like me, smothered in a great fur coat, bearing eyes that told of horrors; of having seen.

Startled, yes, but not deterred, I gestured for her to sit beside me and join in paying respects. When she sat and I prayed, she produced from her coverings a small device, its screen alight, a spindly cable flowing downwards which she held and attached to the head-port of our fallen comrade.

Disturbing the dead, while in prayer? Such an offense would've had her hanged in Berghardt, but I shared no outside hostilities bar a weird stare.

From the illuminate device's small screen soon shone a kind of text-window, an unknown recipient writing panicked masses of prose. She wrote back messages of comfort, of assurences of a peaceful end, and when the dead man at last found acceptance of his fate, she stood up wordlessly, device in hand, and wandered away.

Some wind down doodles of manta bc roasting in the flordia sun for 3 days straight makes you feel kinda icky apparently woops!! The other oc isn't named yet but she's been in my brain foreverrrr, she's a witch who "communes with the dead" through old technology like Nokia phones and stuff I think she'll be fun :3

This one's kindaaaa older but I didn't wanna recolor the sketch so it's here for reference ...

I also love making these I have so many

[shay-awenydd]

I awoke within a hellish place; a dream of fire and smoke and boundless heat. Such mountainous terrain, within which sweltered I, I figured could scarcely be of natural origin - yes, such a terrible conundrum of crags and cliffs was the devil's work, for no merciful god would allow such an exhausting existence, even for emotionless rock.

Purple lights shone upon a sheer rock-face cliff, clambering up its jagged exterior with a speed I deemed impossible, yet which moved with such nonetheless. Quickly did it disappear into the confines of some gloomy cave, whose orafice my eyes were entirely unable to spy from where I had awoken. So, knowing of no place to go, for my existence within this strange mountainscape was of an unkown purpose, I decided against the little sense I had left to go towards the queer glow.

Such heat I had never experienced; what flowed through my metal veins was no longer the sludgy oil of Copper-9, but thin brimstone soup courtesy of this hellish environment. For hours, far longer than I had expected, I shambled across mountain-peak and valley-trough, each as barren as the surfaces of asteroids, when at last the nought-colder night fell, and I arrived at the rock-face.

A voice then boomed from the unkown undulations of this wretched planet's greater gloom, filling the sweltering air with a stern warning: "You are not welcome.", it announced omnipresently, "Leave now while you still can."

Though my circuits all screeched for anything but heat, they still burned with a passion for learning, so although it was obvious that this was as much a dream as it was a nightmare, and that I was not welcome within it, I still asked the voice to tell of its secrets.

Then descended a drone of odd proportions from an unseen cave, its arms and legs of a size that rivaled a machine-hunter's. With eyes as shining-purple as its clothes, the unusual drone carried in one hand a gleaming axe as it hung freely from a tiny rock-potrusion with the other.

Before I could as much as think of a question to ask, the grim machine swung its tool at my face, leaving the last thing I saw before my anew awekening to be the wrong end of a razor-sharp blade. When I laid conscious in my bed, nightmarish dream still fresh in my processors, I hastily began writing the entry which you read now.

I'll yap abt her later

[shay-awenydd]

Always did I snap at you, and always did you sneer right back. For there you were within this prison of me, nagging at my sanity with taunts and poisoned sympathies. Those eyes, that caustic glow within them, I saw them in my sleep and waking nightmares, always wretchedly gleaming.

But when I looked back one day to find you there at rest, not antagonizing your captor, not giving me your best, I saw at last what in truth you were: A friend, maybe not, but pleasent company for sure.

Hate can be tiresome.

[shay-awenydd]

Illuminate in loathesome limelight, dreading fate's foretold snarl and bite, two beings of tragedy walk entwined, their ultimate ends already aligned.

Step of hesitation after trudge of nagging doubt, always and forevermore by your side so proud and stout.

" Oh what such sweet lovebirds. " " What a tragedy if anything happens to those ladies. " " Dark Chuckle. "

[shay-awenydd]

Chapters: 6/11 Fandom: Murder Drones (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: The Nomad Additional Tags: Thriller, Angst, Body Horror, References to Suicide, Character Death, Blood and Injury, Oil is Worker Drone Blood (Murder Drones), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Descent into Madness, Despair, graphic descriptions of wound treatment Series: Part 1 of Murder Drones: End of an Era Summary:

The Last human on Copper-9 has trudged the frozen wastes for fifteen years. Since the cataclysm, they have survived through grit and determination. Although, after so long, even the strongest wills begin to falter.

[shay-awenydd]

Eyes if hunger fallen still, glowing death brought quick to nil. For what is a predator without nutrition, caught forever in scarce attrition?

Dead, sooner or later. Dead to join their victims. Dead to scare the children with, to revile for generations of time.

Dead, to feel safe when one is not.

[1.32-1.33]

Girls night!

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[start over]

[shay-awenydd]

A great, warm smile draws across the face of the writer. "Glad to hear it.", he hums contently, "It's three weeks of foot travel north-eastward. We'll be headed east for four days until we get to..." The name of that place escapes him, even though, embarassingly, he had only been there a few days prior, "Augh christ, what was... right! Riley's reach! It's a litte outpost lived in by a few dozen drones, sheltered from the wind by a big hanging rock looming above them. A trade convoy should pass through it every week or so, we'll join the first one we see and get to Berghardt that way, traveling north along secured routes for some time. All in all, we should be away for two months at absolute most, taken nothing out of the ordinary happens."

Viva and C look at each other, an unmistakable unease festering in the gloomy workshop as the prospect of such a timescale becomes clear to grasp. Does C have it in him to keep his family safe? What if something happens to Shay and Viva, and nobody could come to tell them? What if the hound found them out here, all alone? And can Viva keep from spoiling her true intentions to the unforgiving, volatile clergy? Questions upon questions, each with a flurry of dreadful possibilities to serve as their hurried answers, but none more concrete than a worrisome whisper in the wind. She will have to try, as will everyone here, and hope to whatever deities still listening that she comes home safe.

"Gather your things, prepare for a long trip. We'll be out a while, so take some extra oil for the journey - the cold cares little for those unprepared, freezing joints and coagulating oil. Don't worry, I've some extra packed here if you need any - Special Berghardt Blend™, for greater resistance against the frost (includes anti-coagulants!)"

Blank stares meet Shay's sudden and uncalled for advertisement. He excuses himself and puts on a serious face, explaining: "Get ready, I'll be waiting outside for you. Take as long as you need and, most importantly, don't rush. Forgetting something and then remembering it when we're in Berghardt would be unfortunate. Now, as to you," he turns to C and reaches out his hand, "it's been a pleasure meeting you. You'd be welcome in Berghardt if things were different, but seeing as you've duties to attend to, I can only commemorate your honour." He and C give each other a firm, respectful handshake.

"I'll be going now, see you soon." He says to Viva as he enters the flickering light of the elevator, fumbling around with the controls until they bend to his will. As the doors lazily begin to close, he spares one last glance into the shadowy basement, its floor and walls stained in black, sludgy oil, in the midst of which stand Viva and C, looking back.

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

"Little town? Little town?", he scoffs, deeply offended, "Miss, I assure you, Berghardt is not a little town. We have electricity. We have our own oil supply. We have thousands of drones and a handful of hunters living among us spread throughout the blessed city and the few colonies under its banner, not to mention the nomadic tribes wandering our territory.", Shay boasts with an obvious proudness in his voice.

He continues after a short breather: "Together we stand united under the great Church of the Hollow Sun and its priesthood of proud men and women, guiding our way with the visions of the holy oracle. I myself have gained the position of Wasteland Chronologist among the clergy, hence the journals and the writing." Shay stands proud, clearly fond of explaining all of this, no matter how often he's done it before. "I thought that perhaps you, Viva, could come with me to Berghardt while the others stay behind, ask the clergy's demonologist some questions about the absolute solver while keeping it on the down-low, of course. You don't want to arouse too much suspicion..."

Shay looks at C, his eyes' intrigue matching the others', thinking only for a short moment before opening his mouth again: "You seem competent," he murmurs, then turns to Viva, "Have C stay behind while you're gone, watch over the others. His and K17's involvement would make this trip more cumbersome, as the process of letting a hunter into Berghardt, especially a prototype, is very involved and tight, not to mention the fact that they couldn't leave. More importantly, Nikki must to stay behind, as the punishment for bringing a demon into Berghardt is severe..."

"Severe how?", both Viva and C ask in uncoordinated unison "Execution.", he answers, " The church doesn't take kindly to blasphemy. Officially, I should've shot Nikki dead on the spot and destroyed their core, but I don't believe in senseless killing, no matter who or what stands before me. If anybody heard of their existance and that you're sheltering them, you'd be hunted down by the venatores, and believe me, you do not want those lads on your tail..."

The answer shocks the drones, leaving them in a stunned silence, eyes of uncertain fear staring into Shay's which do not quaver at these thoughts and terrible possibilities. "But don't worry," he tries in vain to defuse the tension, "as long as nobody knows, you'll be just one drone among thousands, asking questions of a seemingly devout origin. You'll be fine, trust me... And for K17's repair issues, I might know a mechanic in an outpost who'd be willing to help. He owes me a favour, and he's quite lax with the clergy, so no worries there."

Shay pauses to let the others process this, before finally offering: "So, what do you say?"

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

This was a lot for Shay to take in, even though he had asked for it. Without thinking, he took out one of his trusty journals and began writing along to Viva's commentary, jotting down her speech nearly word-for-word, when he pauses to meet the eyes of this new voice, Nikki.

That tail. It shouldn't be there. He was used to the spindly, bladed appendages which spring from the backs of hunters, but never before had he seen one upon a regular worker. It was then that he began connecting the dots laid out before him: that absolute-solver-thing, the miraculous wound-healing of the hunters, and that terrible tail... yes, the church had warned him of this. A demon stood before him, though it acted neither hostile nor even particularly rude toward him. Sure, they were strange, but so were the rest of these drones. He stared at the greyscale machine, unsure of its intentions, but elected not to vocalize his woes, instead continuing his writings.

The lack of a proper name for this group irked him severely, but Nikki's interjection seemed to fit quite well, unfortunate as it is. "Rejects" doesn't evoke the greatest of preconceptions, but, looking at the self-dissimilar group bearing the name, he admitted it had a certain ring to it. So, "Rejects" ought to stay, lest anyone have any better ideas.

Shay was hard-pressed to find anything close to normalcy within this group of drones - a list of strange qualities only growing longer for every one of Viva's revelations and the others' remarks. What impressed him evermore was the huge perimiter of safety drawn around their hideout, along with the general unremarkable-ness of this city. Venatores scarcely ventured into it, and the pilgramages passing through here stopped when the hunters dropped. "Too dangerous, frankly stupid to even suggest these days", as one priest lamented. He's been all over the continent, and by extent all of Copper-9, but he cannot recall having ever passed through here.

It takes trust to allow one to invade one's private space, and this group obviously dripped with such. Even Shay's closest friends, of which he had very little, never dared get this close. He gets defensive, this, everyone that knows him knows well enough. The entire group, in fact, though not one shared even a single striking detail, each and every one special in their own way, seemed to Shay as if they shared a tight familial bond, this interpretation reinforced by their constant and needless bickering amongst themselves.

Most intriguing to the writer, and admittedly the reason he came here, though he didn't think so explicitly, was K17's many animal-like qualities. Names of places like the "Elliot manor" were instantly lost on him. He wrote it down, of course, as he did with everything Viva said, but he in truth cared little for it. Whoever did this to her must have died decades ago, this notion gained from the constant mentioning of JCJenson, whose human workers and executives he knows went extinct in the great cataclysm. Any reasoning behind her design surely died with them.

Her serial number, he wrote down exactly as displayed, not missing even a single detail, his eyes growing large as they fell upon her original blueprints. His pen smoking from copying the draftings with such ludicrous speed, he took note of the distant intimacy of this act - he was, after all, gazing openly upon all that made K17 into what she was.

After this lengthy exposition, when all is at last said and written down, Shay sees that he has filled a good few pages to the brim with new and exciting information to be archived away when he gets back to Berghardt. When Viva talks about the corpses, Shay is right there beside them, observing them closely - some of them seem normal, while others sport a demon's fleshy tail. Yes, while he cannot pray for a demon's salvation in death, he still mourns for his fallen kin. Precise, surgical incisions dot the cadavers; "Research purposes" may not be what he had hoped for, had he hoped for anything at all, but at least these hermits weren't cannibals... excluding C, of course, who cannot be blamed for following his nature.

Upon thinking of the hunter right next to him, he rummages around in his satchel and chucks him a can full of liquid. "Here," he ejects, lobbing it loosely at the tall machine, "it's fresh drone oil, have some. I've some in reserve." C doesn't know what to say. Killing drones for food is one thing, with their used, grimy old oil cooling him only just barely. With this? Even though it's but a half-litre vessel, this will supply him for a few days alone, not to mention the pleasant, refreshing taste. "Gee, th-thanks mister, I dunno what to say..."

"Consider it common courtesy, for, y'know, not killing me.", Shay assures him, "Don't worry, I won't run out. Berghardt produces its own oil, and since I'm part of the clergy, I get a decent supply." He looks back at Viva, a sense of duty in his eyes "Now, why bring me here? Am I to figure out K17's memory, or why that "hound" is following her - another hunter perhaps?... I don't quite know how to help other than to offer you to come back with me. It's safe in Berghardt, the guards and venatores make sure of that."

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

Biting cold, those reckless scold to sense or death, of warmth bereft, out in your domain of the stiffened and the slain.

Know the dangers of the night, illuminated in frightful yellow reaper's light, yet beware the day, its treacherous stay doth stare at the careless' deathly dismay.

"Time ticks," whispers mistress death, her lullaby of gale sung by the bereft, "forever on and on until the reapers get their fix, or the weather, fearsome be, lay to rest thy candlestick."

Footsteps, like thoughts, drift away into their kin, erasing all that which once they kept within. Bootprints of memory, symbols of empathy, forced to play along to the snow-dune's gnashing symphony.

[1.30-1.31]

I'm doing really well on my backlog sooo double pages again!! :3

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[shay-awenydd]

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

The subtle upwards glances and quickening pace were not lost on Shay, who trod carefully alongside his new acquaintence. He did not share in her observations, for as soon as he turned to follow her every gaze, the places each fell on appeared starkly empty. It was only after very nearly labelling her off as paranoid that he caught the slightest glimpse of yellow lights, courtesy of a hunter's light-array, scurrying away into the darkness.

"You mentioned you had two disassembly drones in your ranks? My people call them machine-hunters - it's a colloquial term, I apologise for any confusion. Some live among us in Berghardt too. I wonder if they know each other..."

Viva's home thoroughly impressed Shay; especially was he in awe of the fact it had working electricity. Very few places in the wastes can afford such a luxury, with Berghardt being the only city capable of calling itself "on the grid", though just barely, powered by a massive oil plant situated among its tight building layout.

The walls of this place, plastered in crude artwork of what he assumed to be drones gave him an awful gut feeling - if he had hair on his back, it'd have stood up straight by then. He closely inspected these depictions, trying to decipher their true intentions, when he noticed that one of the figures looked awfully similar to Viva.

Before he could theorize any further, she called him into the open elevator. Now decending into the cold depths of the earth together, she says something which momentarily terrifies Shay.

"...Squeamish?"

He subtly loosens his coat, and places a cautionary hand on the grip of his revolver.

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

"Aye, hunters come out at dusk, that I know. I've been doing this for years, I know my way around the wastes... Now, where is your shelter? In this... sector, as you've called it? Can't imagine it'd be very safe here, eerie and quiet as it is"

A strange-looking patch of snow catches Shay's eye, which he soon approaches without saying a word. The grisly remains of a worker drone litter the snowy asphalt, its torn body long drained of oil. A machine-hunters' signature claw marks lay embed within what remains of its torso, joined by puncture wounds and bullet holes which dot its back and screen.

Shay dares not touch the body, for he doesn't know how long it's laid there, splayed open, dead. Burial rites only work on those recently deceased, or whose bodies had laid undisturbed since before the great cataclysm, and this one, bearing spots of rust on its frozen joints and tattered cloth similar to a modern drone's shows unfortunate signs of age. He takes a moment of silence, then apologises for this brief intermission.

"Hunters... let's get on with it before we end up like him."

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva

[shay-awenydd]

Shay's eyes grow hollow at the uttering of that horrid word. "P-Prototype?", he asks in shock, "But those are volatile beyond belief! Trust me, I've come to face one before, and that thing ripped our group to shreds before lunging at me. Took all I had to get away from that... animal.... How is she? Lucid? Conscious? You speak calmly of her, so I assume she is to be trusted..."

Unease washes over him, partly due to this unexpected twist of events, and partly due to the prospect of meeting its subject. Are they reckless enough to go through with it? They've gone far, but willingly facing a prototype is an untrodden step on the staircase to hell.

"...Aye, I'd like to meet her, see what I can do. But beware, as I've neither interrogation techniques nor implements of torture under my belt. However, I will defend myself if the need arises."

He pauses for a little moment before continuing, seriously reconsidering his next words before uttering them anyway: "All I've got to share is... well, me. I'm sorry to say, but she'll have to come out of her shell on her own terms, neither yours nor mine. However, I assure you that I am told I have a way with people. Perhaps she'll spare a few words, then I'll be on my way again."

Having only now properly processed Viva's last line, Shay, intrigued, inquires further: "K17? That's an awfully strange name for a drone, one I'd've noted down if I came across it. Can't say I've met them, and I've made acquaintance with more or less all of Berghardt, for better or for worse... May you introduce me? Such a name sparks intrigue."

"K17's an... interesting character. Honestly we don't know much about her, she hasn't told us. What I could extract from her when we first met was that she was originally from the Elliot manor."

Viva pulls out one of her many journals from her bag, flipping through the pages till she reached one partially blank one in particular.

"During one of her repairs I uh... couldn't help but investigate a little further. Couldn't do much seeing as most of her memories are kept in a locked folder that she refuses to give the key for. However, I did find out she was one of the original Disassembly Drone prototypes. Her testing apparently failed so she was repurposed."

Viva hesitantly closed her book, putting it back along the others.

"I'd be willing to introduce you to her, yeah. She's certainly something. Maybe you can get more information out of her than I can."

-Viva