“Let him be. He’s gone through enough.”
-Famous quote from the play ‘Man of the Northern River’
*=====*
Mori and Fara made their way over to the massive warehouse in the center of their little outpost. Off to the side, where the Kharon was parked, Desire and Eva both sat on a pile of boxes cuddling and being close. Mori turned to Fara with a grin, “Aww, look at that. Maybe we’ll be that close someday,” Mori joked.
Fara, seeing the two, turned back to Mori with an amused smirk behind her mask, “While I do find your armor really, really cool, I don’t think we would be that good for each other. They are pretty cute, though.”
Mori nodded along, “Yeah. Married to our work? I think that’s the saying. Anyway, I wonder when Jel will get Desire that mana type she promised; it’s been over a week at this point…” Mori said, “Well, I’m not the one to rush her; that job goes to the two lovebirds.”
“Fair enough,” Fara agreed as they approached the warehouse. The building was, as expected, a cube with nothing but a few windows and a door cut into it. Fara took the handles of the large double doors and opened them quietly, showing off the fresh layer of lubricant she had made sure everything that needed it had. The building was just as boring on the inside as it was on the outside. The floor was a compacted layer of sand, hard enough to walk on but soft enough to sink a little when leaning on one leg.
The sand reminded Mori, oddly enough, of the material a lot of playgrounds used to pave the play areas.
The walls were just as featureless as they were on the outside, with no scuffs or marks or markings. The ceiling was much the same. All around, engineers and mechanics were standing or sitting in front of work tables of various sizes. Each of them held different files of folders, leaning over to those close to them and whispering in hushed tones.
She and Fara shared a meaningful look, Mori smiling as she turned to their mostly-oblivious, soon-to-be partners in creation, “Hello, everyone!” she called with as much power she could put into her voice before she accidentally put some psychic muscle in it, “I’m not sure how much Aetra told you folks, but we’ll be working together to make a little project of mine a reality. For now,” she said, looking across the few dozen rows of stunned men and women, “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Mori Athantos, lich extraordinaire. It even says that on my Hunter guild card,” she chuckled.
A few of them replied in kind, a drop of anxiousness still there yet diminished. Fara strode up next to her, giving a smile with her eyes, “I am Fara Notchings, a mechanic. I’ve been working with Mori for a long while now and we’ve both been working on this project. How many of you know what we’re talking about?” Only a few among them nodded, the rest shaking their heads, “Alright, then I’ll explain. Mori isn’t good at storytelling.”
Mori rolled her eye-flames, “What’s that got to do with this?” she mumbled.
“The goal of this project,” Fara began, “Is to make a superior version of Gribnik’s warcaskets.” A few sharp hisses sprang from the back of the crowd, faces turned to grimaces, “I know how it sounds, but there will be two major differences. First, we’re putting zombies in them, Mori doing a bit of magic to make the zombie into a true hybrid between undead and metal. Second, we’re not using them as meat shields.”
“What’ll they be used for?” someone asked, “Construction work?”
“While that’s actually a good idea I should’ve thought about,” Mori began, “What she is talking about is the actual weapons we’re putting in their hands,” she explained, sharing another look with Fara and backing away.
“Let’s start with the basics of our ‘competition’ here. Why doesn’t Gribnik give their warcaskets real weapons?” she asked. After a moment of blank stares, she pointed to a chimeric woman in the front row in a heavy white apron, “What do you think?”
“Me?” the woman asked, “Um… Because the poor people welded into those things are prisoners?” she guessed, tilting her head a bit and letting feathers dangle from behind her ears.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Almost entirely correct. The poor bastards in the warcaskets are prisoners, but they are also liable to gun down their allies as much as their enemies if they had one. It’s only the threat of death-by-magic that keeps them in line. The thing is, though, that Mori here doesn’t have that problem. She doesn’t need to struggle to control her undead and manage their urges.”
A veritable visual chorus of blank, confused stares assaulted Mori and Fara. With a sigh, Mori stepped forward once again, “The thing about undead is that they are raised by exploiting a certain urge left behind by the body’s original inhabitant. A normal necromancer has to manage that urge to maintain control of their undead. I, for reasons I will not share, do not have to deal with that problem. Who knows what this means?”
A man in the back, a very tall man with a hunched posture that nonetheless put his head on the same level as most others’, raised his hand tentatively, “Does that mean… you can trust the warkcasket?” he asked, voice hoarse and rough.
“Exactly!” Mori replied with vigor, “As much as I love my undead, I know that they are pretty much unable to seriously disobey me. Zombies, though, are not that smart. I also know that they wouldn’t mind being put into hulking suits designed for combat. Unlike prisoners.”
They slowly nodded, some seeming more apprehensive than others, but Mori knew Fara had caught on to the reluctance, “Alright, I think it’s about time for introductions. Each of you, say your name and profession. You can start,” she said to the chimeric woman with feathers.
In the span of a short ten minutes, she learned the names of each of the sixty people she was going to be working with. Most seemed to her like mid-range professionals, but there were a few oddballs here and there. The chimeric woman and the tall, lanky, hunched man, named Huna and Guliv respectively. They were both oddly respected by the others. For the most part, she got the sense that they considered each other equals, but with those two, they quieted when they spoke. She would have to figure out what was happening with that.
All in all, she was able to commit each of their names to memory, which would do wonders for getting closer and working well with them. Once they were all finished giving their names, Mori looked between them all, then to Fara, “Did you finalize that first design you had?” she asked.
“I did,” Fara replied, fishing around her overall’s pockets for the booklet, “Though, it’s just a prototype using your armor as a base. I scaled the least expensive systems up and cut back on the more expensive stuff. It may reduce performance a bit, but it should keep them alive long enough that Traits can pick up the slack.” She finally plunged her hand into her pocket, pulling out the small booklet, “Here it is.”
As she began flipping through the book, Mori turned her eye-flames back to the assembled professionals, “Now that we’re all on the same page when it comes to what we’ll be doing, it’s time to debate how we’ll do it. I already have a prototype spell that I just need to test out— Aetra said you brought some bodies, so I’ll be testing with those— and Fara has a prototype armor design. I’ll be completely honest, we’re not masters of each of our crafts. That’s only one of the reasons why I’m happy you’re all here to give some input.” She pulled out her own booklet from behind her back, shaking a bit of Unio’s slime off of it, “Now then, if someone can show me where the bodies are, we can begin.” For a moment, no one spoke, everyone trying to gather their nerves. Eventually, Guliv sighed and stepped forward, gesturing to the back of the warehouse.
Mori followed along without complaint, ignoring Fara’s continuation of her briefing. He led her to a staircase leading downward and through a hallway ending in a door. Just as she was about to open it, the man stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned and gave a questioning, if not demanding look. “Why do you want to do this?” he asked, gravely voice still present, “This project is nothing but the pursuit of a weapon. One that only you can wield. I still have my reservations about you, but know this: If you let the power go to your head, if you find the prospect of wielding a powerful weapon intoxicating to the point of madness, I will kill you myself.” He turned and left, walking through the hallway and disappearing up the stairs.
Mori took a moment, staring at where the man left, and uttered a single, quiet word, “What…?” She was, as far as she knew, not a power-hungry maniac. She had not often done it, but she squeezed her perception through the Connection between her and Unio, asking for his thoughts. As per usual, they were less developed than a sapient person’s, but they held enough emotion to make them just as important as a sapient’s.
Confusion, wariness, disgust, dismissal.
He knew the man was threatening her and he dismissed his threats. She silently pondered his words. He did not know her. He did not know her circumstances. And yet he made a vow on just the idea of her personal project. For some reason, that type of person inspired a deep-rooted revulsion in Mori. It also inspired a sort of camaraderie.
As paradoxical as it sounded, and as paradoxical as it felt, she hated the idea of judging or being judged simply based on one action. And yet, she had done much the same, vowing to herself that no pirates would escape her wrath when she came across them. It was an uncomfortable feeling, realizing how far she could fall. She could almost call it vertigo.
In the end, she shook her scattered thoughts aside. She had work to do, and his vow would not change that. She entered the freezing room and began her work, book in hand.