three-shining-stars

[three-shining-stars]

*Focus broken. Attention captured. The Librarian shifts a maintenance log into the background to view a notification of an incoming transmission, tilting his head as he listens.

Most of the message is a shock—questions of him and his creator washed over by praise heaped on shoulders he has long accepted are unworthy. It's nearly enough to make his cheeks flush, but one phrase tickles his ear and worms into his suddenly swirling thoughts.

"Spare time..?" he mutters thoughtlessly, looking aside to the cascading series of windows on his main monitor. Reports, running programs, backend cracks into processes not meant for interaction. A memory plays along his twitching digits: sore pads and raw blisters from hitting keys too hard and too rashly. A younger creature in over his head; a duty taken on without warning, without pity.

His fangs nibble lightly on his tongue, and the Librarian again inputs a command to stagger the return of his response before leaning into his microphone.*

You... I am... surprised that you... well, I...

...Not every iterator is open to speaking to... my kind, even in their great curiosity at my existence. At my maladapted purpose. Very few are, actually. You are... I'm... grateful that you would ask.

In truth, it is not easy. My original purpose was simply to help organize data heaps and our pearl repository, safeguarding it—acting as this archive's librarian, as it were. I was never meant to take on an iterator's role; this... this is simply a circumstance of necessity.

Three Shining Stars was... she was brilliant, and in her brilliance, she was lonely. I was purposed with technical aptitude and depths of intelligence not meant for my kind, yes, but she went further to nurture my mind. To nurture me. She taught me... a great deal, and she indulged my many curiosities with nothing but kindness.

We have stored here in the archive an artifact known as a 'keyboard,' and Three Shining Stars was able to adapt it to her systems so that it could be used to interface with the structure on a direct, administrative level. When she... was lost, this malformed access node allowed me—allows me to manually maintain her processes.

But... that doesn't answer your question. You asked how I juggle these tasks, not how I achieve them. Thankfully, many processes of upkeep have protocols to run automatically in the absence of administrative input, and I only need to provide minor adjustments every cycle. The eventual failures that result from this neglect are easy enough to reverse whensoever they happen, though that always makes for a particularly hectic cycle.

Everything else... maintenance, overseeing the overseers, balancing component utilization, monitoring the environmental simulations... it is taxing. Time consuming. The needs of a superstructure are many and exhaustively exhausting, but Three Shining Stars... she deserves to be taken care of.

I hope that satisfies your curiosity, at least in some small part. To be honest, between conversing with you and the mandatory time I must soon take to search for archivable information, I'm actually running up against a deadline to solve an issue regarding a mechanical failure with one of the cystic conduits' water pumps, so I must be going. Thank you for your interest.

...And... thank you for the compliments. Three Shining Stars was... she was amazing, indeed, to have deigned to create something like me.

She deserves all the credit.

*His piece said, his message ends, and the Librarian looks with blank eyes to an empty wall on his right. Whatever he sees there, whatever thoughts cross his mind, he does not dwell for long.

He simply shakes his head, pulling the maintenance report back up while he maneuvers a command prompt to its side. As he types, doling out commands for the system to execute, a thin whisper ekes from his lips, unregistered even to his ears.

"I wish she was here to receive it..."*

[LONG RANGE COMMS ATTEMPT DETECTED]

[CONNECTING...]

[CONNECTED]

[ALERT]

[ROOT ID COULD NOT BE AUTHENTICATED]

ACCEPT TRANSMISSION?

[YES]    [NO]

*The Librarian's paws, a blur of motion over his scratch-marked keyboard intermittently traced by disinterested eyes, skip to a halted stop. His forehead creases at the towering screen before him.*

A direct message request? That's... interesting; whoever sent this actually pinged the communication arrays for permission. Most iterators bypass the regular protocol and simply patch messages straight through; it's practically commonplace. Whoever sent this is a bit old school, if... somewhat damaged. Their ID didn't come through.

Three Shining Stars generally disapproved of accepting direct messages without authentication... but I think I recognize this string. I'm sure they don't mean any harm; I'll see what they have to say.

*A stroke of keys, a flurry of deft digits, and the transmission is accepted. The Librarian straightens and perks an ear, waiting for the oncoming message.*

[YES]

[three-shining-stars]

*Silently, gaze tracing along the automatic text transcription as it writes itself out, the Librarian listens to the dialogue floating out from his workstation's speakers. One claw taps a random key, the slugcat mulling over his options with an increasingly lidded frown that eventually collapses into a weary sigh. He types a short command, then leans forward to speak into a grate on the console.*

Hello, Roaring Over Tessellations. Your message has come through, and I am receiving you clearly.

I want to... well, I'm sorry to hear of your situation; I know it cannot be easy for you. I wish I could ease your burden and gift you your sought-after iterator contact, but... I'm afraid I cannot.

My name is the Librarian; I am... a purposed organism, known to most iterators as a slugcat. My creator, Three Shining Stars, has been... disconnected for a long time now. Her superstructure still stands, still functions, and I am continuing her work as best I can, but her consciousness... the thinking self she identified herself as... it is no longer with us.

I don't want to mislead you, dire as your circumstances are, into thinking that you are speaking with someone you are not. I have taken up her role in archiving history and maintaining the structure, yes, but... if it was the iterator, Three Shining Stars, you were looking for, then I suppose you will want to move on. My apologies, again, and I hope you have luck in finding what you seek.

...Truly, I do.

*Trembling lips searching for more words that are not there, the Librarian shuts his mouth and firms his jaw, shaking his head to the empty air before setting his paws to typing. The buffer is removed; the message is released. His conscience is eased, if just for a moment.

He turns, gazing across the gravity-laden confines of his makeshift administration room. All the blinking lights, all the little screens flashing their information at him, seem so dull in that moment. He hangs his head, eyes falling closed.

"Have I done the right thing..?" he murmurs to himself.

As always, the structure remains silent but for the gentle hum and buzz of working parts and crackling electricity.*

[LONG RANGE COMMS ATTEMPT DETECTED]

[CONNECTING...]

[CONNECTED]

[ALERT]

[ROOT ID COULD NOT BE AUTHENTICATED]

ACCEPT TRANSMISSION?

[YES]    [NO]

*The Librarian's paws, a blur of motion over his scratch-marked keyboard intermittently traced by disinterested eyes, skip to a halted stop. His forehead creases at the towering screen before him.*

A direct message request? That's... interesting; whoever sent this actually pinged the communication arrays for permission. Most iterators bypass the regular protocol and simply patch messages straight through; it's practically commonplace. Whoever sent this is a bit old school, if... somewhat damaged. Their ID didn't come through.

Three Shining Stars generally disapproved of accepting direct messages without authentication... but I think I recognize this string. I'm sure they don't mean any harm; I'll see what they have to say.

*A stroke of keys, a flurry of deft digits, and the transmission is accepted. The Librarian straightens and perks an ear, waiting for the oncoming message.*

[YES]

[three-shining-stars]

[LONG RANGE COMMS ATTEMPT DETECTED]

[CONNECTING...]

[CONNECTED]

[ALERT]

[ROOT ID COULD NOT BE AUTHENTICATED]

ACCEPT TRANSMISSION?

[YES]    [NO]

*The Librarian's paws, a blur of motion over his scratch-marked keyboard intermittently traced by disinterested eyes, skip to a halted stop. His forehead creases at the towering screen before him.*

A direct message request? That's... interesting; whoever sent this actually pinged the communication arrays for permission. Most iterators bypass the regular protocol and simply patch messages straight through; it's practically commonplace. Whoever sent this is a bit old school, if... somewhat damaged. Their ID didn't come through.

Three Shining Stars generally disapproved of accepting direct messages without authentication... but I think I recognize this string. I'm sure they don't mean any harm; I'll see what they have to say.

*A stroke of keys, a flurry of deft digits, and the transmission is accepted. The Librarian straightens and perks an ear, waiting for the oncoming message.*

[YES]

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 6269.398] - PRIVATE

I didn't mean to. Honestly, I really did not intend on this. It just looked like a bit of junk data. An errant spark of information floating in the stream. When I downloaded it, looked it over—that was the very least of what I needed to even understand what it was. There's no ID, no name, no format; there's no indication that it's a message at all. You have to open it to find out.

Still, I shouldn't have read it. It's not like I didn't realize what it was quickly enough, and yet, I kept reading. It's... it's bad karma to snoop. Bad form; bad taste. Three Shining Stars expressly warned against archiving private messages between iterators, all the more so if they're still operational.

...And this is one I actually know. Recently met, to be fair, but I still have an ill feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the more so considering... it's got me curious. Curious like I want to start gnawing on my paw.

Something happened to Condensed Static; I was right that he didn't go into isolation for no reason. It seems more like he was forced to—that he... shut down, maybe? Suffered a malfunction? I can't hear whatever noise the other iterator is referring to, unless it's the buzz of corrupted audio. Whatever it was, it seems concerning. He has plenty enough problems in the present, but they had to have come from somewhere, and I highly doubt this recording was recent.

And it wasn't preserved very well. The message header is corrupted, the log is half-wiped, and the playback itself is garbled beyond hearing. Rrrrgh. How frustrating it is that, out of all the information to be lost, it's the other iterators' names, of all things. Every mention of them. It's like I'm being retroactively punished for listening in.

Some sort of... investigation. Experiments. Something tense. A crisis. So little to go off of yet so much to endlessly ponder without any answers to glean. It would've been better for everybody if I'd never stumbled into this. I don't profit or learn anything of value, I've wronged Condensed Static, and now my head hurts from listening to all that static.

I can't keep this in the archive. Morally, karmically, on the basis of it being practically worthless, I'm deleting the copy I made and removing the file path from the system history.

What a terrible cycle.

[LOG ENDS]

[ATTACHED FILE] ://NULL.DAT

[[DELETION REQUEST]] REASON="JUNK DATA"

DELETING FILE ://NULL.DAT

[DATA REMOVED FROM ARCHIVE]

[REPLAYING BROADCAST]

. . .

[RECORDED BROADCAST - PRIVATE - CONDENSED STATIC, $!F#&^] WARNING: THE DATA IN THE FOLLOWING BROADCAST IS DAMAGED. INSPECT THE COMMUNICATION ARRAYS' DATA STORAGE IN THE CASE OF INTERNAL DAMAGE TO SYSTEMS.

ATTEMPTING TO RECONSTRUCT BROADCAST . . .

MAJORITY OF BROADCAST RESTORED. EARLY PARTS OF BROADCAST WERE UNABLE TO BE RECONSTRUCTED FULLY.

NOW PLAYING RECONSTRUCTED BROADCAST . . .

$!F#&^: Con2*#($) St)!*#c. Have you heard a&ything from !()#D3?

CS: No, unfortun#$1aately I have not.

$!F#&^: I have been atte@#pting to get B#&(!~(* to help with the inve@(1tigation. I know he kno(*ws something, but he has been a%oiding answerin^*&g my questions.

CS: Hopefully we g#9t answers soon.

$!F#&^: I agr3e. This whole invesQ%#%gation is draining so much of my energy. I'm so worried.

CS: ... I know.

$!F#&^: Static.. you w#ere the l4st person to talk to him.

CS: I had mess&ged him recently, yes, but that doesn't mean I know anything you all do not. I would have told you by now.

$!F#&^: Please. If you kn0w anything.

CS: I do not k#ow anything, I promise, $!F#&^.

$!F#&^: Don't you have any information we could use?

CS: I don't! I wouldn't hide any$#1ing from you all! Not about this, a#d you know it! Even if we were close, he w(!&0u+ldn't talk to me about th&is!

$!F#&^: Don't act like yo!*u two weren't the closest out of all of us. You were doing experiments a few cyc#Es before all of this!

CS: Why would that mean I kno# what happened?!

$!F#&^: Y%u two were close! Why wou@+_n't he tell you? Or give any h=ints at the very least!

$!F#&^: You two were o2n call non-stop just a hund#*&9red cycles ago!

$!F#&^: Condensed Static? What are those strange noises?

$!F#&^: Respond to me right now. What's happening?

$!F#&^: …

$!F#&^: Are you mad?

$!F#&^: St$(tic? Are you ignoring me? ...I'm sorry, I was just stressed. I shouldn't have gotten worked up.

$!F#&^: Please. I apologise for my words, I was harsh.

$!F#&^: Please answer me.

$!F#&^: Please, Static.

$!F#&^: I don't want to be alone.

$!F#&^: …

$!F#&^: Something is wrong. The noises stopped a bit ago but you still have me worried. What happened?

$!F#&^: I'm sending an overseer over. Please be okay.

[END OF RECONSTRUCTED BROADCAST]

[REPLAY BROADCAST?]

[YES] [NO]

[REPLAYING BROADCAST]

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 7138.437] - PRIVATE

Condensed Static has returned a response, but it is becoming increasingly apparent the damage to his communication arrays may be more extensive than was stated. Half or more of this message is lost in garbled hisses of static; I can hardly hear some of what he said.

What I know he did say, at least, is fairly interesting. He's taken me for Three Shining Stars, which... I don't think it was my intention to begin with, but as I began recording my message, the urge to hide my identity crept up on me. It's not the first time I've pretended to be her beyond simply wearing her name, and I doubt it'll be the last; there are some iterators that are just... easier to handle if they don't know.

Do I feel bad? I... don't know why I ask myself, because I know very well the answer is yes. It's a great disrespect, and I don't feel comfortable in my skin for doing so.

And yet, I do it.

Anyway, it seems as though Condensed Static was one of those many iterators built just to provide a home for the ancients—and to work on the great problem, of course; that is a constant, no matter what else an iterator was meant to do. It is rarer to find an iterator not set to work on the problem in the background.

His senior, though, this Ever-Forgiving Daylight, sounds interesting. Most ancients—many, I would go so far as to venture���did not care to think about what would become of the world after they made their departure, but there were some number that did. It was by their design that Three Shining Stars was built, and perhaps why Ever-Forgiving Daylight was as well.

Not every ancient believed global ascension was possible. Not every ancient even believed in ascension at all, not morally, not karmically.

Beyond any of that, there isn't much more to Condensed Static's message, though the red flags continue to raise. He's unwilling to speak of the reasons behind his lockdown, which I cannot fault him for, but if there was anything else, I can't say. That part of his message was particularly corrupted; very little can be made out.

I will continue to contact him, if only because we could both use the positive social interaction. I would like to see if it is possible to draw him out of his shell, to get him talking about what caused his lockdown. Perhaps it is not something of great import to record in the archive, but I must pass the time somehow.

There's not much else to occupy my time with these past cycles.

[LOG ENDS]

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC

Transmission begins. Broadcasting from Three Shining Stars' communication arrays, node number four.

Hello? Is this reaching you? I'm speaking to Condensed Static, yes?

Hail, iterator, this is... er, well, this facility regularly monitors outgoing broadcasts from every available frequency, and I happened to come across your transmission searching for other iterators to make contact with. I know well the toll isolation takes, so I thought I could answer your request in some fashion.

I would like to inquire into the reasons for your self-imposed lockdown, if I may, and to ask after your greater function. This structure... my structure was built as a repository for information and history, to store the knowledge of the world as it is to enlighten the world that will be. Please feel free to share if you are comfortable, and if you are not, that is perfectly fine.

I understand you're lacking for knowledge of recent events, and though recent events covers a rather broad swathe of happenings, the nature of my duty is such that I believe I could help enlighten you in at least a few ways.

Not that life has been particularly interesting since the mass ascension. Not... as far as I'm aware, at least.

Regardless, respond back if you receive this message. My communication arrays are always available and remain in good working order; disregarding signal lag, I should return a response with relative speed.

And... welcome back to the world, by the way. I... I believe it is better not to close oneself off, not for long stretches of time. Whatever happiness is left to scrounge up in this empty, disconnected ruin, it is best found in others. Trust me.

Transmission ends.

[BROADCAST ENDS]

"H--lo, yes you have reached Condensed S-atic. You are sending from Three Shining Star's communication arrays, correct? Would I be right to a-sume you are Th--e Shining Stars? Either way, I thank you for conta-ting me.

The lo-kdown is... co-plic-ted to ex--ain. Bef-re I get i-to that, I suppose your seco-d q-estion is helpful to answer first.

My greater p-rpose is not as in--resting as you make it so-nd like it should. Wh-le you were built to hold info--ation and hi-tory, mine was built for one simple reason: the nearby iterator col-ap-ed. I was... a ru--ed build, j-st a way to get pe-ple off the surfa-e. I wish I could tell you I was built for s--eth-ng more significant and important but I just.. can't.

My local group.. I d-n't think you've heard of them, but they w-re built for much better reasons. They were much more signif-cant than me. Ever-Forgiving Daylight, our Senior, was built to predict and prepare organisms for the world after ascension. Not only would she spend her time on her intended purpose, rigorously testing and working, but she was also an amazing Senior! She solved disputes s-iftly and efficiently while cons-dering all angles! There was also...

... Ah, sorry I'm rambling.

Back to the topic of my s-lf-imposed loc--own.. It's hard to talk about but.. I'll try. Whe-e to start.. I guess there was just... well.. Th-re was a pr--lem within my local gr-up, in sh-rt. And, well, because of.. the way my sup--stru-ture was bui-t... er.. no. It was most so...

...

... I'm sorry.

This is h-rd. To talk about, I mean. To.. expla-n.

Let us... move on. Or.. Give me enough time to think a-out how to exp-ain it to you.

When it co-es to 'recent events', I suppose I should have guessed nothing w-uld have come up, but you nev-r know. If there is nothing of interest, you don't have to inform me of anything. Don't waste your time on me, please.

Welc-me back? Yes thank you. I suppose it is.. better I am back. I have found.. something in these br-adcasts. Though, I cannot say I feel le-s paranoid. Thank you for talking to me, and I hope to hear back from you soon. If I d--n't answer your questions well enough or if you have more questions, please ask.

Answering quest-ons is a good distraction."

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 8693.823] - PRIVATE

Came across a somewhat inscrutable broadcast originating from a rather far-off iterator whom I have never come into contact with nor even heard of. A... Condensed Static, I believe.

That is not so odd; there are innumerable iterators scattered across this abandoned land, many of whom are, if not insular, too damaged to communicate. I would almost assume the same of this iterator given the apparent poor state of their communication arrays, yet... they claim to have secluded themselves of their own will.

And they have now broken that seclusion. Iterators do not often change their minds; it is a fundamental flaw in their design that the vast majority of them share. What could have drawn this enigmatic fellow out of hiding? They mentioned in another broadcast of theirs that they are damaged and consume an abnormal amount of water; could they have an ulterior motive in seeking aid?

Something feels wrong in their tone. Something lurks in the back of their broadcasts; not all is as it seems.

...Or perhaps they are just lonely. I know... I know very well what drives one to seclusion, and I am not innocent of going dark. The time after Three Shining Stars was disconnected... it was...

...I would like to reach out. I feel in the pit of my stomach that something is off about this iterator, but then, others have felt the same of me. If I am a mere purposed organism wearing a passed iterator's name, then perhaps their secrets are so benign as well.

It is no crime to act outside of the ancients' design; I should not treat them as a criminal by the standards of a fallen civilization.

Not to ignore that I am insatiably curious about all this.

[LOG ENDS]

Rebooting... ...Communication array systems online... [BROADCAST ANNOUNCEMENT]

"..." "H--lo? Am I o--ine?" "Ex-use the gl--ches.. My syst--s h-ve been in lo--do-n for... ma-y cy-les. Let me j-st..." "Okay.. the glitches should be m-nor now. My com-u--cation arrays must be dam-ged." "I am Condensed Static, and if you are listening then you have rec-ived my broadcast. For the past... hundreds of un-ountable cycles.. I have been under self-lockdown for.. several reasons." "As of recently I have decided to drop the protocol, and I wish to so-ewhat reconnect with the world. I know I must have missed atleast a few things that other Iterators would think are common knowledge. Therefore, to educate myself on the news of recent times is something I hope to achieve through conversation. I would also be lying if I didn't admit I remain quite lonely." "If you can, please get in contact as I would enjoy having a conversation with anyone who has the time for it. I hope to meet some of you soon."

[END OF BROADCAST]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blog rules and info! This account is run by @elioexists Asks: Currently open! Since this is a small blog about an oc I honestly doubt I'll ever close em haha Hi, Elio here! I run this Iterator askblog, I will explain the premise below since I have some things I want to say. This account follows Condensed Static, a cautious and somewhat paranoid iterator who has just opened his communications again after many cycles. Though he struggles with delayed responses, the least social iterator from his local group finds himself reaching out to the outside world to anyone who will hear him. Something is off though, something just feels wrong somehow. Is it just how a weird and isolated Iterator coming out of lockdown acts or is it something bigger than that? Perhaps overtime truths will stumble out. The asks are open, and you are welcome to ask him questions! Additionally, this is also a 'storyblog' as I will call it, basically just because there is an over-arching story I want to tell and occasionally I will post broadcasts and such without interacting with a specific person/asker for more lore-based stuff! Basic rules/notes for asks/interactions:

- No sexual or NSFW asks! I will not answer them, and I'll just block you. - Iterators and other creatures are encouraged to interact! Anyone is welcome, CS has sent out a message for iterators specifically (so if you want to respond with your iterator then you may!) but anyone can ask a question, you don't have to be in-character! You can also have your scug or other creature slither into his puppet chamber if you want. - This is kind of personal but please no Saint spoilers or references! I have not gotten to it and I've been somehow decently spoiler free! Plus, Condensed Static does not take place close to Saint in the timeline (and he isn't close to any canon stuff at all as another note). - The blog/story might end up covering some sensitive topics (nothing too serious), however I will probably only give warning for the posts themselves that feature them OR update this post overtime with warnings of things that will show up, it just depends since I need to work some stuff out! - This takes place after the Mass ascension of Ancients! Other important stuff to the wider timeline like SoS has happened. Let it be known that CS is unaware of a lot of it. I will update this if I need to! Character(s):

Condensed Static - CS Iterator He/Him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That's all for now! See you in the asks! ^^

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 4775.536] - PRIVATE

In short order from my previous log, I've stumbled across something particularly interesting. Perhaps even tremendously so.

While sifting through the overwhelming amount of junk data that is regularly transmitted to literally every channel available, I happened to notice a recognizable signal being broadcast from a nearby relative point to the Survivor and the Monk. While it doesn't help locate where the signals are, I still think this is worth further investigating.

Especially on account of... I recognize this slugcat. Not personally, of course; this is an iterator's purposed being, and especially beloved, at that. I believe... Seven Red Suns'? They're located a decent distance away from Three Shining Stars, but I used to see them broadcasting photos of their slugcat every other cycle.

...Every cycle. Seven Red Suns cares more about their purposed organism more than any other iterator I've ever seen. It's too bad communications with them have been down for some time. We spoke once or twice; they were very amicable.

And yet... I know exactly where Seven Red Suns is located, and they are nowhere near where this slugcat is. How did it get so far away? Does this have something to do with the odd 'rift' that the Survivor and the Monk were displaced by?

I would like to contact this slugcat and enquire further. I recognize the source of this signal as having originated from an overseer, and it will be easy enough to backend its transmission to display my own message. I hope Seven Red Suns doesn't mind.

[LOG ENDS]

Time is a resource not yet dried for this one.

The Spearmaster is now available for asks via overseer.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 4415.108] - PRIVATE

I have kept myself away from the broadcasting equipment for the past few cycles, and not because I thought the pearl repository especially needed the thorough sorting I treated it to.

I... ugh. Most of my dialogue is kept between myself and I, and when I exchange messages with iterators, it is purely textual. It has been a very long time since I have regularly spoken with another living being, and though I was not always as eloquent as I show through my logs, I was never... bumbling.

Now, evidently, I am bumbling.

Just... to put aside my spoken and technological failures—the deletion command does not seem to overwrite the automatic broadcast function—several of my questions were answered, regardless of whether they deserved to be.

Slugcats in the wild seem to have advanced more than was previously thought by myself or by many iterators, though just as many favor our species enough to purpose us as companions. Much of my knowledge of concepts was preprogrammed during my creation, and whatever else I didn't know was taught to me by Three Shining Stars.

These slugcats obviously do not have such advantages, yet they are advanced enough to understand pivotal concepts such as religious structures, factories, and... well, I may have to consider the possibility these two have not just come into contact with an iterator, but they have received the mark of communication, in which case, I... am certainly the fool that I presented myself as.

The mark is more than a means by which the Ancient language may be parsed by noncommunicative species; it is a pure, unfiltered dispersement of knowledge. Every word, every phrase; everything that must be internalized to glean that initial requirement of language is imparted in a single instant. Concepts. Ideas. The world expands; dull eyes begin to gleam with understanding.

So yes, they are intelligent. I received a semi-formal education after the fact, so I may understand more niche and complex concepts and possess a greater understanding of how to ply the vast knowledge inserted into my consciousness, but we are theoretically working from the same knowledge base.

And yet, they surpass me in conversational ability.

Perhaps in humility as well.

Anyway, their spoken-of Shaded Citadel is apparently some sort of religious facility, which... helps a decent amount. If they are near an iterator, it must be one built during the age in which many Ancients migrated onto superstructures; many of those are located in and around the area they moved from, and there are few Ancient settlements that do not include their grand religious affairs. Still, that only narrows the magnitude down by a digit or so. I'll need more information.

And, unfortunately, I have not happened upon any broadcasts containing any slugcat fitting that description... though I have not technically happened upon any at all in my absence. Perhaps I should have a look through the list of recorded signals; I may yet find something of interest.

[LOG ENDS]

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC

Hello? I believe I'm speaking to... the Monk, yes? Either you or the Survivor is fine, actually; my question is broadly for the both of you.

You have another sibling, I believe you both mentioned, by the name of Timid. May I ask what they look like? I receive and sort through a large amount of data every cycle from broadcasts, automated surveillance, and overseer footage of the wilds, so it's possible that they might have been sighted somewhere.

Although whether they are found does not help very much without knowing where the two of you are. You previously stated that you were crossing through a place reminiscent of a... Shaded Citadel? Could you be more specific? What is the architecture like there?

...Er, buildings, if you don't know that word. Structures. Are there structures? Shelters. No, not... never mind. Um... places in which there are roofs? Ceilings. Walls over your head.

I... uh... think I may have twisted my tongue a bit. I don't speak with other... well, I don't speak with regular slugcats very often. Would it be rude to ask about your intelligence level? It... would, wouldn't it? That's obvious. Of course it's obvious.

Void below... just... forget I asked about anything other than your sibling. I need to... something that isn't this. Goodbye.

[BROADCAST ENDS]

[DELETION REQUEST] REASON="I AM AN IDIOT"

[[ERROR]] BROADCAST HAS BEEN TRANSMITTED

[ERROR LOG ENDS]

I... uh.... don't think I was supposed to get this one. Either way... I'll provide an adequate response for all bullet points to the best of my ability. Uh, this is Survivor here. We sheltered a couple times. The place I was referencing, Shaded Citadel, was surely an abandoned religious stomping ground. This place here looks somewhat similar although I liken it more to a factory. Yes, there are walls... and ceilings... et cetera. We're pretty smart. Of course not as smart as you, considering you are surely 'godlike in comparison'. Using sarcasm, of course. Quoting someone. We're equal creatures, in my opinion. Hopefully that wasn't rude, apologies if it was. But I imagine us to be more level than you or your benefactors probably think. Oh, and, about Timid. I... they're our third sibling. Me and Monk, I mean. They're blue. Tealish, kind of. Got grayer markings and darker patches. They... never got swept away, like me and Monk did. They've never really seen the outside world, they've more-so been coddled. I'm really scared for them, in all honesty. I don't want them to die. But it's better not to jinx it. Maybe it's better this broadcast went through. And hopefully you're okay with the fact that I answered more than what you wanted.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 7719.087] - PRIVATE

Falling back into my usual activities has been an easy process—though it is odd that, amid my many jumbled thoughts, I would assume that I had fallen out of them. The numb feeling of something missing fades more and more the more I distract myself, yet there it is. The sense that something went awry, that something changed.

...Three Shining Stars would tell me that I am being silly, that if I can't remember something missing, then nothing is truly missing at all. Some enlightened saying such as that, yet she'd say it in jest. She'd make light of it, take my mind off of it. Loftiness held as a weapon, but with the blunt edge sticking out.

Now, of course, there is only me. Only the lurking darkness around cold metal corners that no longer truly sing with life. Only my pointed nails that can do nothing but scratch, and scratch, and scratch at the itching feeling of distress that simply will not go away.

So... perhaps I am not contacting these far-flung slugcats purely out of the goodness of my heart. Perhaps I am just looking to distract myself from whatever it is that I need distracting from.

That is fine. I am not an iterator, after all; I'm as fallible as these lost little animals are.

...Oh, right, I started this log to record an update of their status. A new broadcast from them came through their regular channel with a response to my own message, which fully assures me that they are presently communicative and safe. The Survivor answered a few of my many questions, which was a pleasant surprise. I assumed I would have overwhelmed them.

The so-called rift that spirited them and their colony away, though... spatial distortions are not unheard of, but they are rare enough that there is virtually no information recorded about them in the archive, and certainly nothing matching this particular event's description.

It could be... er, likely not. There is no precedent for any kind of spiritual happenstance being focused on slugcats of all things. We are capable of heightened intelligence, yes, but I have not heard of any base animal concertedly refining their karma, nor—void forbid—an intrinsic understanding so deep as to transcend the very cycle and affect the ripple of reality.

The most attuned Ancients in all of history could only postulate the theory of such a thing. Slugcats cannot affect ripple. The rift they speak of has some other explanation, and thinking otherwise is foolish. Madness, even.

Meanwhile, the Survivor's description of their surroundings was completely unhelpful, as I should have expected. They can't possibly know any taxonomic families or genus' to narrow down potential climates. Several of the names they rattled off are completely foreign and likely colloquial, and the rest are species that suffuse most of the known world.

Simply knowing that they are near an iterator is not enough—and they are certainly not near this superstructure. Three Shining Stars was built atop a mountain; they would not be able to reach this place even if they were nearby.

I must take time to mull on this. Other things vie for my attention, and perhaps entertaining them will strike me with some miraculous epiphany.

Likely not, though.

[LOG ENDS]

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC

Hello? Is this reaching you? I'm speaking to... the Survivor, correct?

Let me begin my offering my condolences for your current situation; I understand it must not be easy to undergo such a drastic separation. I would like to ask, though, how is it that all this has come about?

In the logs of your earlier broadcasts, you spoke of some... rift being to blame for your displacement. What did this rift look like? How large was it? How did the process feel? How long did the process take? Where and when did you discover it? Is the exit through which you were deposited still there, or has it dissipated?

...Er, forgive me, that may be too many questions to answer at once; I have a tendency to ask more than there is to ask. I would also like to know what device you are using for communication, but that is of lesser importance, and you needn't worry over describing it.

For the current moment, please, if there is anything I can do to help locate you, record another broadcast detailing your local... flora—that should provide some clues. I will continue monitoring your signal, and will respond as soon as I am able.

Do not worry; I am sure you both will find your way home.

[BROADCAST ENDS]

Okay... hey. I'll do my best to answer your questions. We just got up, the rain is still fresh outside. For the rift in question, we just got... sucked and thrown through. It was like an oppressive darkness just formed and swallowed me and everybody else at the colony. No, it is not two-way. Completely gone after we got spat out. Happened extremely fast, barely really got to react - just long enough to register it. Now, I don't know where anybody is. I miss them a ton. I really, really hope they're alright. About where I am, I do see an Iterator locally that I heavily, heavily doubt to be you. I think off in the distance there is another one. Generally, I think I'm somewhere far off of the initial area that I was born and grew up in before I got displaced over here. None of this seems precisely recognizable. Definitely identifiable as part of the same... uh, cake, for lack of a better word. But it's not the same slice. As for flora, it's mostly what we saw yesterday, but now mixed with some Green Lizards and a small family of Noodleflies. Reminiscent of Outskirts, but that doesn't explain the Garbage Worms or Monster Kelp or literally the fact that we are definitely not in Outskirts and if anything this place almost seems more similar to Industrial Complex, or maybe a past version of Shoreline that Spearmaster spoke of where it was not but rubble in water. Like I said, same cake, different slice.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 7723.918] - PRIVATE

I awoke at my broadcasting station earlier this cycle as if from a dream, my thoughts foggy and veiled by confusion. I cannot remember when last I was conscious, though all systems within the superstructure appear to be functioning normally.

My regular logs reveal... nothing. The last entry was regarding routine maintenance; there's nothing odd or out of place to speak of. Between last cycle and this one, all that went wrong was a slight corrosion in a supporting strut within the Cystic Conduits, and that was easily reversed.

Yet something feels strange. Something feels... forgotten. I do not feel whole, do not feel right. There is a persistent itch in the back of my head that refuses to abate. It whispers thoughts of things I cannot recall occurring.

But I have a duty, and I cannot dwell on remembrances of false realities.

While searching for broadcasts to archive as is my usual routine, I happened to locate this eminently strange transmission. It was not sent through regular channels; in fact, I do not recognize this method of messaging whatsoever, though the foreign file type was simple to convert.

It appears this odd messaging device was discovered by two slugcats: the Monk and... the Survivor. Peculiar. That name is... almost familiar, yet dances just out of reach. I am quite sure I have never seen either of them before, but there remains a distinct feeling of ennui.

Regardless, their situation presents several oddities, and their broadcast channel is open. As Three Shining Stars' duty was, I will contact them, question them, and attempt to discern the unknown mechanism by which they seem to have been displaced, for that is my duty as well.

...And perhaps, if they can be helped out of their troubles, this... squeezing in my chest will go away.

[LOG ENDS]

(OOC: Seems like a fun little thing to dip out of retirement for. Really cute art. Don't have so much time to reblog stuff anymore, but hey, a few won't kill me.)

Hello! I found this... thing. I don't really know how this thing works, but at least here is a photo of us. Me and Monk were at the colony before we got practically pulled through a rift alongside everybody else, and our sibling Timid is completely gone. Now we don't know where we are, we aren't anywhere we recognize... if there is anybody out there, Slugcat or Iterator, please help us. And try to get us to our friends if we can, and make sure they're okay.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 1983.468] - PRIVATE

I don't have much time for this log; a lounge of yellow lizards has climbed up the northeast leg and is attempting to make a nest in the upper struts, somehow, and I need to oversee a Cog on its trip to flush them out. This is more a reminder to myself to further analyze these topics whensoever I have a moment.

One of the other hijackers has named itself: a slugcat by the name of the Artisan. Curious as I am to discern the mechanism by which they communicate, it is, at best, a footnote. I respect their bravery in sharing their identity, though... it makes me wonder if telling the Artificer my own name for the sake of establishing trust was the most intelligent decision. Looking back, perhaps I should have exercised more caution.

Regardless, the Rivulet is mumbling names in its sleep: a mention of someone named Lazuli. The ID drone may be malfunctioning, which is worrisome. The Survivor has a headache, but is otherwise unaffected by the wheel flower as the Rivulet is.

Ruffles is indeed an endearing nickname, and I must now go. Log ends, and good luck to myself and Cog #7 in driving the lizards out. I would not like to purpose a new one should things go awry.

[LOG ENDS]

Hey survivor. How is ruffles holding up after the incident with the karma flower? I read somewhere that the karma flowers are a hallucinogenic plant. So of you do come across more do be careful so you don't have an accident.

Fellow scug

The artisan

Survivor: It's been sleeping all cycle, mumbling about rot and worm grass and someone named Lazuli. This drone has been glitching for some of this cycle, hopefully not damage I caused. It's been echoing its words, or maybe he's echoing it. She sighs. Because of his recent death, I wonder if it's what made him worse. All the flower did to me was give me a headache.

Regardless, thank you for your concern, artisan. I'm sure all we'll need is a cycle or too. Rivulet will get better soon. And Ruffles is a cute nickname.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 3281.441] - PRIVATE

This is highly irregular. For several cycles now, I have been thinking to myself over and over that this situation the Rivulet and the Survivor are undergoing is entirely out of my understanding, and I do not know what to do about it other than continue working and make this log to record my venting for posterity.

They consumed the wheel flower—karma flower, so said the Survivor—but they did it together, one bite for the each of them. That is... I am sure it is not unheard of, but what effects it may have on the attunement of their cycles, I cannot say; such a thing seems innocuous, but without having any concrete recordings of past tests, speculating feels foolish.

What I know for sure is that the Rivulet's immediate onset of confusion, especially as the Survivor remained completely cogent, is abnormal. I've never partaken, but there are no recorded instances of it causing a stupor so quickly in the archives. Karmically, I believe this may point to some sort of grave imbalance in their cycles, while physically, the wheel flower is a very mild hallucinogenic at best; it should never cause such a reaction.

That is all confusing, yes, and yes, I feel somewhat lost in matters of spirituality; whatever is not recorded here and whatever Three Shining Stars neglected to speak of, I do not know of. But that is not what rankles me such that I constantly find my thoughts consumed by questions. That is not what disconcerts me.

The Rivulet does not remember dying.

That should not be. That should never be; as far as I have ever heard, as far as any of the vast amounts of knowledge stored in the archive suggests, there is no known reason for why a creature would not remember any of their past deaths. It is a given that the cycle pulls the deceased back completely intact, for better or for worse.

And... I don't know. I am the Librarian, sole keeper of a superstructure's worth of knowledge dating back to the very age in which the ancients yet walked the lands, and I'm clueless. Maybe the ancients would have known; maybe Three Shining Stars would have known, but I don't.

And I feel like a little animal with stubby little paws on a device not made for me.

...I wish I could say this was the first time I have doubted myself, but it is not, and I cannot allow these feelings to affect me beyond this log. My incompetence is not a new concept; I am less than a hundred-thousandth of what Three Shining Stars was in stature and intelligence. I just... have to keep going. Keep working.

As an addendum, while I find it interesting that any other prospecting signal hijackers found the Survivor to be at fault for falling prey to her emotions, I am more surprised that she has come to a personal revelation in the time since and is apologizing for her actions. In the short time that I experienced their steadfastness, I found her to be rather irritable. Well, with me, anyway.

I don't know about any of the others, but as has somewhat tormented me between then and now and for what may be the foreseeable future, I do feel as though I was at fault. It was the beckoning of myself and others that led the two of them into danger, and I never blamed the Survivor for losing control and snapping at voices she never trusted in the first place—or so I suspect given her general tone and actions.

It is... heartening, in a way, to have the burden of accusation lifted, but I fear the guilt will remain. An apology will not change what happened.

No matter how many times it's sought.

[LOG ENDS]

(Hi surv I don't forgive you for the whole us taking the blame for the whole rot incident though circumstances do lessen me from hating ya into tolerating you)

But let's put that aside

Huh are you keeping Rivulets death a secret from him?

Why, no like genuinely why?

Survivor: I said the same to another one of you voices, but I mean it. I am truly sorry. I panicked, and, well, you know. I haven't witnessed a death since I was very small, and this time, with it being Rivulet... I can't let such a thing happen again.

I haven't talked to him about it, but he's in no state to talk. I don't mean to keep such things from it, but it's not well enough to listen. Hopefully all it needs is time. I'll try again the next cycle.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 7175.837] - PRIVATE

As I sat in front of Three Shining Stars' broadcast interface trying to think of a way to both apologize for what previously happened to the Rivulet and compel them both to run from Metropolis as quickly as their legs will carry them, another log was added to the ID drone's bank.

And it's... a wheel flower. A photo of them standing over a wheel flower. Either someone has somehow gifted them a wheel flower or they have stumbled onto one.

Some of the ancients didn't believe in their power, some iterators, too, but Three Shining Stars believed. I believe. It's more than a hallucinogenic; to consume the essence of karma itself is to both become one with karma and completely transcend karma.

If there is any one way to touch the void, to peer into the Rubicon and return from the brink with foreknowledge of what lies beyond, it is through the wheel flower. It is said that ascension is to have one's cycles come to a complete synergy—to have the mat untangled and your string removed from it. The wheel flower allows for the barest taste of such a sensation while remaining in touch with the five natural urges.

Such was how Three Shining Stars described it, her own knowledge thus transcribed from the wisest of the ancients. Those that stared into the fire and eroded into the ground. Those that starved themselves until they no longer were.

I do not know what will come from this, for I have never tasted the wheel flower myself, but... while now may not be the time, I think one of them would benefit from its consumption. I recall that the Rivulet held hazy memories of its past cycles, and while I initially dismissed its musings as amnesia or nonsense, now...

...perhaps he only needs to realign itself with its cycles. Perhaps becoming a single instance within the great cycle will uncloud its mind, if only briefly. I do not know. I am only a scholar, not a pilgrim nor a martyr, and I am certainly no wise saint.

...I should probably stop wasting this time and warn them that they are in peril.

[LOG ENDS]

Rivulet: Surv, hey Survivor, did you bring that box in here?

Survivor: No, it must have been here when we came in. It seems okay to open.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 5365.615] - PRIVATE

After I finish this log, I'm going down to the genetic recombination laboratory where I was purposed to test myself for signs of medical abnormalities, because the two events recorded on the ID drone's log are so emotionally conflicting with each other I think the whiplash has made me burst a blood vessel.

The Artificer denied me. After so many failed drafts and rerecordings that my voice began to grow hoarse, my perfect plea with all its grand concessions and mild assertions was tossed aside without so much as an acknowledgement of my true message. I don't know what part of the speech caused them to ignore me, but they acted as though I'd actually recommended inaction as a solution instead of a merely lighter punishment. The effort was wasted, and I feel foolish and sick to my stomach for having groveled to them so.

Was my wording too harsh? Did I overestimate their faculties? Perhaps I should have used smaller words, or perhaps I spoke too little of violence; that seems to be all they can understand. Their own justification is rendered deaf to my ears; any sapient creature that knowingly chooses to remain so strongly tethered to the first karma cannot be reasoned with, saddened though I am to admit it.

I realize now that, to them, punishment is synonymous with murder. I do not think mortal depravity of that severity can be overcome.

If that were the end of it, I would have been forced to detach myself from this situation, because there would be only one way for it to end. If a creature is soon to die or be tormented beyond reason, then I cannot remain at all invested in them in any way; the heartbreak would disrupt my work far too much.

But as the Artificer traveled through the gates of their city, some programming quirk in the drone's identification matrix caused its current imprint variable to be overwritten as the most recently logged user came within range. It must disincentivize older owners over the new.

I must say that is a horrible way to encode a gene-bound device since users are likely to die and return many times over, but I suppose this model of drone was dispersed during a time in which the ancients were determined to cross themselves out one-by-one. Logic checking inheritance rules must not have been a priority.

Regardless, the drone fled from the Artificer with one last recording of a piercing howl of indignance, and when next it logged footage, it was of my sleeping slugcat acquaintances. This development is as much a cause for celebration as it is to panic.

With the drone focused back onto them, they may be warned to flee from the encroaching danger that will likely now ferociously hunt them down. That is also a bad thing. Even if my words had some unseen effect on the Artificer or if they had a miraculous change of heart when the time came, that is now very likely not to happen.

The Artificer was already after them, yes, but now I fear their rage has been redoubled. I do not want to think of what may be done to the Rivulet and the Survivor if they are found in possession of the drone.

I sincerely hope they are able to run fast enough to escape.

[LOG ENDS]

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC

Hello? I dearly hope this is reaching you, Artificer, because I am composing this broadcast to make clear a plea.

I've sent you a message before, though I previously neglected to give you my name. In an attempt to more strongly prove my sincerity, I will properly introduce myself. I am the Librarian, and I, too, am a slugcat, though situated far away from Five Pebbles.

I hope that may lend my words some credence when I assert that, though you accused me of it, I am not lying. Perhaps I overestimated the undertone of Five Pebbles' words, and I am sorry if I upset you, but as for the temporary holders of the drone, the other two slugcats, I must assert—plead that you pardon them their transgressions.

I recognize that you are the rightful holder of the drone. I will concede that, by laying paws upon your property, they have done wrong, unknowing though they were. They were truly unknowing, though; they held no malice in their actions. I truly believe they had no idea the lost drone was stolen when they found it. They were... they were foolish and naive, if you must say it.

Please, if you must have them brought before you, if you must penalize them to underscore the totality of your reign, then do not raise arms. Do not strip them of their freedom. Let them walk from your city even if with the stipulation that they not return. I am... I am sure they would comply.

I implore you: grant mercy not through inaction but by consideration for rightful punishment to match inflicted wrongs.

Such would prove you great in more eyes than scavengers'.

[BROADCAST ENDS]

Artificer: Nonsense, I cannot let them leave without punishment. If I did so, could the scavengers still fear me? I've killed scavenges for much smaller crimes, and if I let them go free, what would become of my leadership? Any less of a punishment could make me weak in their eyes. I can't take such a risk again.

Violet: Your Majesty-

Artificer: Silence, scavenger. Come, step onto the karma gate. I cannot activate it on my own.

Violet: Yes, Your Greatness.

The turning of gears and falling of water can be heard.

Artificer: Perhaps I treated you too harshly. But-

Violet: You think so? Thank you, um...Artificer.

Artificer: Not you. But, as I was saying, you must understand. Leading a nation is no easy task. Sacrifices must be made.

Artificer's drone emits several beeps, then speaks;

[HOST DETECTED IN SECTOR 12 "FIVE PEBBLES". REROUTING TO HOST ID 08912 "THE RIVULET"]

The drone floats away faster than the Artificer can chase, and an anguished yowl can be heard through the machine.

You can now send asks to Survivor and Rivulet.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 2075.624] - PRIVATE

...I need to do something. Anything. I have so little power outside Three Shining Stars' walls, but there must be something. I cannot sit idly by while members of my own race are marched to slavery, not when I could have saved them this danger in the first place.

If not physically, if not by overseer, then I must make contact once more. I must try once more to sway the Artificer from taking their revenge.

...And yet, I cannot truly hold out hope.

[LOG ENDS]

So artificer how are you going to punish these thieves for stealing your drone?

Artificer: Kill them, to teach them a lesson, and when they come back the next cycle, I'll make them serve my kingdom. I could use some extra paws to be my servants.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 8796.918] - PRIVATE

Turbulent these past few cycles have been, and though my work efficiency has decreased dramatically from these overwhelming thoughts of helplessness, I do admit, my curious predisposition hums to gain such biased insight into scavenger culture.

It is less about the ways in which they act—it is obvious even to the blind that the scavengers live as a collective in all aspects—but to imagine that they have devised their own take on organized religion speaks more highly of their relative advancement more than even their aptitude for tools and crafting.

The ancients held religious views of themselves and the void, and in time, venerated many iterators in the same way, but there is otherwise very little deviation to known religious practices. Some iterators were treated as beings advanced enough to hail as omniscient; the ancients sought purity in the void while languishing in their sins and golden cities alike. Disregarding the even older civilizations the ancients' was built atop, that tells much of the entire story.

Spirits of the ascended... that evokes thoughts of an afterlife; the ancients believed that there existed a purgatory as unfulfilled echoes, that such places in-between as the Rubicon could exist, but otherwise sought especially to remove all lingering traces of themselves. They abhorred the concept of an afterlife, and so it was spoken of in only hushed whispers, never to be made common practice.

I believe... yes, I do believe in the Rubicon, but I do not believe that there is any remaining trace of those who enter the void baths. I do not think I believe in an afterlife any more than I do echoes, and especially in this interpretation, that spirits could somehow inhabit pearls, I am skeptical. The great cycle does not comprise such nonsense.

...Oh, yes, it is more obvious now that the Artificer is a tyrant. That much has been startlingly clear for a while, much as I wish the situation were different. The wimpish scavenger says that there was no indication of why the ID drone fled, which points to an assumption made that my slugcat acquaintances outright stole it.

I... cannot recall what claims, if any, the Rivulet made as to where he found the drone, but I would like to believe they are not thieves. They had no reason to obfuscate the truth, so why would they have bothered lying?

It is very bad form to draw conclusions based on personal feelings rather than logic, but even trying to think of it in a realistic light, I cannot determine an answer. They didn't lie.

...They couldn't have.

[LOG ENDS]

Psstt violet meesa have some questions for you

1 How are scavengers raised by their parents or communally?

2 Do Scavengers have a culture?

3 Do the thieves who stole the drone look like slugcats who are pure white and blue?

*Violet and Artificer's drones beep and repeat the message in sync.*

Violet: You have questions for me? Oh, thank you. Scavenger culture is very interesting, if I do say so myself. We raise and protect the cubs communally, and I remember the many caretakers I had when I was small. I don't help so much around there though, I'm barely older than a cub myself.

Though not too many know much about us, everyone knows scavengers like pearls. Other creatures usually just say we like their shine. The truth is that many of us believe they contain the spirits of the ascended inside. I've never been one for religion, but it is nevertheless an important part of our culture. We've had a civilization here for hundreds of cycles, but when this artificer here arrived, she-

Artificer: Yes?

Violet: ...improved the kingdom tenfold. We couldn't be more grateful for a leader such as him.

Artificer: Hm.

Violet: After they took over Metropolis, they claimed the drone of the previous leader, so they had two of them. The "thief" had no obvious identity, the drone just disappeared without a trace Our Royal Majesty here entrusted me with the other drone to find the lost one. I finally now was able to use it to pick up its faint signals after it already had returned to her. Thank you for trusting me with such a task, Your Greatness.

Artificer: You are nothing special, you were the first one I saw. Now quit your yapping, scavenger, we have a long journey ahead of us.

[three-shining-stars]

[RECORDED LOG 9062.665] - PRIVATE

I must keep this log brief on account of a systems failure that needs my attention, but the ID drone's server has a new captured feed that concerns me greatly, even over the warning sirens blaring over my head.

The Artificer conquered the scavengers living atop Metropolis, killed their leader and exiled it beyond return. My suspicions were right; this is a truly violent, uncaring creature. Bloodthirsty in the most terribly literal meaning.

But that is hardly my biggest concern; this scavenger... Violet, the meek sycophant with another ID drone, claims that the Rivulet and the Survivor have been found. I do not know if that is synonymous with capture, but I worry.

I do truly worry, and yet, even beyond that, I resent my helplessness. The most I could do would be to send an overseer, but what would that accomplish?

Nothing. As always, my role is to observe, not interfere.

And that infuriates me.

[LOG ENDS]

So artificer what are you doing leading a nation of scavengers?

I'd have thought you were going to keep going on your killing spree but apparently you are leading them now?

How'd that happen?

Artificer: I live the life of luxury like this. The scavengers give me anything I could ever desire, and when I still crave their blood, well, death is the punishment for all crimes in Metropolis. I killed their former leader and when it came back the next cycle, exiled it from the region-

*The shelter doors open with the sound of clicking gears, and a brown and purple scavenger with a similar drone to Artificer's enters and starts to chatter.*

???: Artificer, Your Royal Greatness, we have completed your task! We found the ones who stole your golden drone!

Artificer: Foul beast, my drone has been returned! But... *They seem to soften a little* I am ready to take my revenge. You will lead me to them, you... what do they call you?

Violet: Violet, Your Majesty. *Its drone begins to click and a faint echoing voice speaks through it, but no true words can be heard.*

(You can now send asks to Violet)