Chapter 02
SOMNIANTES
PART 1
Watching the four life forms shrink into the distance, the Obelisk mulled over what it had overhead. Even after mapping the roots of their language to similar memetics, so much of their vocabulary was laced with ‘nonsense’ that it ended up recalibrating its language module, twice.
They had spoken of Spells and Dungeons as if they were tangible realities, but that didn’t make any sense. So after ruling out fault in its own translations, the Obelisk had to assume ignorance. The group were simply an example of early people who lacked the science to explain their world without resorting to fiction and faith.
However, even putting aside their delusions, they’d declared clear intentions that could threaten the mission, so the Obelisk dutifully logged the event.
“Local Vocabulary Anomalous. Documented Lifeforms Indicated Intent To Investigate Vessel.”
Retreating to its thoughts, the Obelisk weighed the risks and rewards of various approaches to its ‘guests’. Mission protocol would typically dictate sending out a large offensive drone force, but under current conditions control couldn't be guaranteed at range, and if the interlopers could also interfere with its drones, however unlikely, it would inarguably sway things in an undesirable manner.
Though, considering what it had seen, the Obelisk was fairly certain the organics did not have prior knowledge of its arrival, and nor did they seem to have any connection to the corruption plaguing the drones. They’d spent considerable time investigating numerous places it had culled drones, and from the conversation it had overheard, they were already forming their own misinterpretations of its existence.
With the exception of the gray-haired one of course, the woman had been anything but subtle with it. She had been well aware of her spectator, likely the entire way down the beach, but at no point had she alerted her teammates, meaning her risk assessment alone was higher than all the others combined.
Metaphorically fingering the kill-switch, the Obelisk was moments from incinerating the entire group at a distance, but stopped when it realized the lifeforms had something its drones didn’t. Cohesion.
They’d undoubtedly traveled a significant distance to reach its shores, yet not a single biologic had demonstrated hostile or renegade behavior. Without issue, they had operated as a unit, coordinating and planning with nary hiccup.
“Potential Merit To Preserving Biologics. Retaining Stealth Protocols.”
Logging its unexpected change in course, the Obelisk printed a new stealth-scout drone, slid open a small hatch at the top of the obelisk, and sent it flying off towards the small campfire in the distance.
Swooping out in an arc over the waters of the open ocean, the scout drone engaged its holographic camouflage before swinging in and silently parking above the waves, just within earshot of the group.
Three of the members were seated around the makeshift cooking fire, with the gray-haired one leaned over a small cauldron, stirring away with a wooden spoon while the fourth one, the bald and burly one, stood guard at the edge of their camp, eyes locked on the Obelisk.
The one in black robes was idly thumbing through a leather-bound tome while the blonde sharpened a pair of forearm-length blades with a whetstone. Both were wholly consumed in their respective tasks when the gray-haired one stood up and tapped their spoon on the rim of the cauldron, announcing their meal had finished cooking.
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“Grab your bowls, the chowder’s done.”
Furthest away from the group, but still the first to respond, the burly man turned and headed back to the fire as he retorted.
“Fish again? How many weeks it been? ‘Chef’, you gotta get new recipes, I'm pleadin’ here.”
Smirking as he sat down next to a small duffel bag, the large man fished out and equally proportional bowl, potentially made of something's skull, and easily double the size of either of the bowls his companions pulled out of their own rucksacks.
Plopping a heaping of milky slop into the other two outstretched bowls before the big man’s ‘trough’, the gray-haired girl gave the man a glaring look before cracking and returning his smile with a toothy grin.
“Anvi, if you'd like to hunt something yourself now that we’re on land, please do, but for now, carp’ a diem friend.”
With an affirmative grunt and a glance over his shoulder, he shoveled a spoonful of slop in his mouth, half chewed it, then attempted to speak while swallowing, to middling success.
“Gunn’ be a phew herrs thor n’ backngan.”
Nodding as she unwove the tangled words into a comprehendible sentence, the gray-haired girl grabbed her own bowl of fish-chowder and moved to sit back down.
“Mm. Just don’t get too sidetracked, or it’ll be fish again when you get back.”
Chipping into her own helping of chowder, joining the others, the campsite conversation dissolved into the occasional clink of a spoon and the calm ambience of a crackling fire until the bald one, Anvi, drained the last of his slop down his gullet and triumphantly burped.
“Mm. Grub was good, even if still sames. ‘Scuse.”
Replying as he stood up, the burly man exited the camp site towards the water and began approaching the cloaked drone hovering just off shore.
Unsure if its drone had actually been detected or not, the Obelisk instructed it to move up into the air, but slowly. Any minor visual artifacts of the drones camouflage would be magnified by the movement.
Its shift patient and precise, the drone drifted into its higher perch with nary a glance from the burly brute, who had simply been on his way to wash his bowl out in the tide, leaving the drone free to continue its surveillance uninterrupted.
Back around the campfire, the other three had begun discussing their plans for tomorrow, and a small layout of the shoreline had been carved out in the sand in front of the blonde woman.
“We’ve seen at least four different types of mechanicals, maybe more, and you’re saying this isn't a Mad Forge?”
The blonde one threw one of her freshly sharpened daggers at the approximate location of the Obelisk in their diagram, emphasizing her point while the gray haired one across from her calmly finished chewing before replying.
“First of all, we've yet to see a single working mech, and second, while the damage has been extensive, there haven’t been any unique variants, just several types in duplicate. Does that sound like a Mad Forge? No, I think we have something rarer on our hands.”
Finally looking up from his book at her comment, the raven haired man seemed to have a tinge of curiosity tugging at his stoic face.
“You're not thinking this is an active forge, are you? Those are a myth for a reason. Even making artificial ones is banned because they all, eventually, go mad.”
Scrambling to catch up, the blonde one snatched her blade from the sand as she interjected.
“Wait, that's a possibility? What would that mean for us then? Is it still raidable?”
Setting his empty bowl down next to him and returning to his book, the raven-haired man responded to the blonde one without looking up.
“More like a highly unlikely improbability. Mara’s just got her head in the clouds again.”
Finding humor in her companions pessimism, the gray-haired girl, Mara, chuckled as she tucked her cutlery away before reinforcing her hypothesis.
“Did you see the shoreline? Highly disheveled with minimal erosion. Also, the shape? There's no way that bay isn't a crater, and a recent one at that. But factor in the level orientation of the structure and zero renegade mechs in the proximity? It landed here, and recently. Probably around the same time we got the first reports of coastal fires.”
The blonde woman glanced back in the direction of the Obelisk as she processed what her companion was proposing.
“It moved here? Like, flew? A whole forge? You're telling me a whole building-sized dungeon plopped itself down here, and it might not actually be a dungeon at all? What are we supposed to do with it then?”
Dumping the remnants of her cooking from the cauldron outside the camp, Mara raised her voice a bit to continue the conversation as she scrubbed and cleaned the cast iron.
“What to do indeed, Kali. I think, in exchange of combat and loot, we might have found ourselves something far more valuable in the right hands. Tomorrow I want to scout out the place proper, including underwater- Jackle, I'm sure you know, but please prepare appropriately.”