Caldor’s back slid down the wall. His now armored behind letting off a loud clunk as he hit the ground. He talked to himself. “This is… good, it is good. I have something I can write about, my spot in the guild is all but guaranteed! Ha ha… Fiannah’s gonna kill me, isn’t she…?” The automaton didn’t respond; or rather, the heaping pile of molten orichalcum before him didn’t respond. Once again the Lens scholar got up and started pacing around the room. His brief relief was taken over by sudden panic because despite him evading the automaton alive, he was still trapped, and still stuck wearing something likely very old, and very powerful. He looked up through the hole he fell down from. His enhanced vision made him realize that the passage had been closed off above him as he fell.
As he scratched his chin, trying to think of a way to escape this seemingly closed off room, a voice echoed inside his mind, like an intrusive thought. It was recognizable, but somehow sounded alien. Raspy and drawn out it said:
Feed. Feed…
At first Caldor was too shocked to do anything about it, he just said out loud: “Who is there?” The voice insisted: feed. He realized something, or maybe he always knew this subconsciously: it’s the armor. It is talking to me, wants me to feed on… something… “Fine, I’ll entertain this, feed on what?” Finally the raspy voice said something different:
Amber metal…
He instinctively looked at the pool of orichalcum next to him. Wordlessly Caldor crawled towards it, and tentatively touched a pool of the molten material with his armored index finger, noticing it didn't burn him. Okay, good to go. He scooped a handful of it, barely feeling its heat and said “Well then, I’ve got it. What now?” Impatiently the voice said feed us to which Caldor shrugged and moved the puddle of liquid metal in his hands towards the bestial visage that the mask wore. It worked. The orichalcum was slowly absorbed by the armor, and Caldor noticed by looking at his arms and legs, that the dark green runes etched onto it shone brighter, as if recharged.
He felt no taste, no warmth, nothing. But suddenly Caldor felt full, satisfied. As if the armor is nourishing me. Keeping me alive? “Well thank you, my horrifying friend. This is much better, indeed.” The armor didn’t respond. Caldor wanted to know if the voice he heard was real, or just an impulse created by whatever magic the suit operated on. He got up and started walking around the chamber, trying to figure out a way to escape. Caldor was smart, he could probably figure something out: this can’t be locked off. Regardless of the purpose of this room, there has to be another way to access or exit it, I just need to find it. The runestone hadn’t worked last time to open a door on the wall, neither did it have any effect on any pillars but the one that housed the automaton. Regardless, Caldor tried once more, to check if maybe the machine’s defeat had changed something. It had not.
He entered the alcove from which the ancient construct had stepped out, and noticed some cables that seemed to connect to the machine’s core before activation. The cables were covered with the runes used for raw magic flow; they had the side effect of releasing a small amount of kinetic energy. I can use this, can’t I? He had seen this before. Fiannah would transcribe those same runes onto a piece of parchment, then hold the parchment up to thin walls that were then blown back by the sheer power generated. It wasn’t enough to destroy any solid walls, but any connective walls, even if made of orichalcum, would be thin enough for this. The scholar picked up his journal and tore off a sheet, onto which he transcribed the rune. This ought to work, if it doesn’t kill me.
As he moved to hold the runes up to one of the walls of the room, Caldor stopped himself. Before that, without thinking, he instead held his ear against it and knocked with his free fist. Solid. Then he slid further south and knocked again. Still solid . This process was repeated for a surprisingly long time until instead of the usual dry thunk, the wall produced a hollow, vacuous noise. There’s a room here, finally. He braced himself, holding his rune and touching it to the metal wall. His ears rang with the sound produced by the raw magic energy that pushed and bent the metal outwards, until it snapped. He felt the force of the impact creeping through his arm; he was sure that, were it not for the suit, his limb would have had a similar fate to the wall; something that was further evidence to him of his hypothesis that magic just doesn't like me. He could see the other side. Eagerly, Caldor squeezed through the small hole he had just created, and prepared to take in his new surroundings. However, he was rudely interrupted by that raspy voice again:
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Above you... He jerked his head upwards to be greeted by dripping drool, followed by a startling set of four monstrous mandibles, pouncing upon his head. The mandibles were attached to a creature’s body, which was attached to six limbs, which sported four toes each, with one claw for each toe. Caldor had never seen this creature.
Barely rolling out of the way in time, the scholar gasped as the monster, which he could only describe as some type of hairless lion with a flower for a mouth slowly made its way towards him, Caldor asked out loud: “any other tips, dear evil-sounding voice in my head?” The voice was silent. “Great, thank you. You know, if I am to perish to this creature, you’re remaining stuck here alone forever. Would you like that?” Still no response; however, as Caldor slowly inched away from the beast, he noticed that same emerald shine again, coming from his hands. He looked down to notice a set of green shimmering hard light claws on each hand. What would Fiannah do? He thought for an instant, before charging at the naked-lion-thing. Something he would never do without this armor to protect him. Finally the creature pounced at him again, trying to wrap its flower shaped mouth around the armor’s headpiece. As its fangs failed to pierce the alloy, Caldor thrust both hands into its chest, goring it with the claws. He felt its life draining away, and instinctively tossed it aside, half in disgust.
Caldor was panting. This wasn’t the first monster he’d had to kill, but certainly the largest. And it still was a very unpleasant experience. This excursion is just full of surprises, I suppose. Stopping to look around and finally take in his new surroundings, Caldor noticed a large array of orichalcum shelves, stacked top to bottom with leather-bound tomes. He squealed in excitement.
Running towards the closest shelf, he grabbed the first book he spotted, and opened it. Realizing his strength, or rather, the suit’s strength was almost enough to rip the volume in two; the scholar adjusted his enthusiasm a bit. And so, he attempted to look at the old script, and discern what the book was about.
“Uh… well, I can say for certain, this isn’t a novel, nor any type of religious tome.” As he flipped the pages Caldor realized, every one of them pictured tables, with words to the left, and numbers to the right. All of it in the Laraweian script, of course. He couldn’t parse the specific contents of the pages, but was able to get a general idea of what it said with his limited knowledge of that language, and his “Small Dictionary to Known Words of the Laraweian Script: Pocket Edition.”
It was a manifest, he thought. As in, a listing of contents coming in and out of a vehicle, into a place of storage, such as a warehouse. He checked other tomes, from different shelves. All of the ones he found followed this same pattern, though some varied slightly in what contents seemed to be hauled in or out. This place is an archive. Quite boring to a Cleaver. Actually, even a Wand would think this place dull. Caldor was a kid in a candy shop. There was so much Laraweian script here that a much better understanding of the language could be achieved, once all of it was hauled to the surface. His belly rumbled with excitement. He thought to himself: Well, maybe I should stay put and try to analyze this as much as I can, and wait for Fiannah to find me. My chances are better if I don’t go wandering around right? The voice actually responded this time:
You just want to read more…
Caldor got startled and flinched. He said, out loud: “great, now I have two voices in my head making me second guess everything, my own, and Mister Evil-Hungry-Artifact. Leave me alone, yes? I’ve fed you and nearly died three times now. I earned this” He mumbled some light curses (the ones you can say around children like Torrents instead of Torments or dang instead of damn) and stepped over, grabbing another manifest, this one seemed to have, on its front page, a word present in his dictionary: God.”