Re: The Wretched Rite - Round One - The Rose Ring
07-11-2011, 09:50 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.
What oddities.
There was much that M. didn’t know. These oddities were everyday encounters, and they simply have to be taken into context and drawn for patterns. The previous several minutes, however, were completely meaningless, regardless of context. A turbulent and chaotic mess of heat and sound, living and nonliving objects floating in seeming nothingness with no apparent natural cause, and a long-winded tirade consisting of something reminiscent but unnaturally different from that of Walker speech? There was no context here, and no context means no significance.
M. shifted its attention to its surroundings, which it immediately recognized as Walker-ruled territory. It scraped the lack of grass under its feet. This was rightful territory of the grasses, and to replace it with an earth more devoid of life than the remains of a forest fire? What remained of the natural grasses that once flourished here were encased and enslaved into ugly patches, as if to mark the territory of one Walker against another’s. M. had seen such things many times before, but the Walkers’ weapons were too powerful and unknown to allow it to make any progress of restoration.
Luckily, there were only three visible heat signatures, two of which were rather faint and far. Unluckily, all three of them seemed to be Walkers. One was further into the path, in midst of Walker structures, another was on a surprisingly untouched hill under a lone tree. The third and nearest did not seem to notice M. at all, and despite being closer than the other two, seemed to have the weakest heat signature.
There was movement overhead. A heat signature, one surprisingly strong for its size; obviously a rodent of some sort. What confused M. was why a rodent—a live one, at least—would be in the air. It would have to investigate this further sometime.
M. walked towards the nearest tree. It had a shape cut out in the unnatural earth so that its roots had just enough room to hold it upright. Its limbs showed signs of being periodically removed, as if the Walkers had the right to dictate exactly what size the tree was allowed to grow to. There was, fortunately, some consolation: vines and grasses began to break through the unnatural earth and crawl up the structures. There was sun. This place might have hope after all.
M. picked at the earth, temporarily extending some roots in order to break it apart from underneath. As soon as cracks widened, it lifted whole pieces of cobblestone from the ground and threw them at the nearest building. After making a few minutes of progress, it noticed a figure approaching. It was the weak Walker, not approaching because of apparently curiosity or directed movement but because of aimless wandering.
A lone Walker would not be much of a threat. This weak one would likely be unable to stop M. from reclaiming this area, and the best course of action was likely to ignore it. However, as the Walker approached, M. noticed the growth on its back. M. circled the Walker, avoiding direct confrontation to look at this new oddity.
There was no mistaking it. Ivy growing on the back of a Walker. Strange. Ivy should be wrapping around fellow trees and misplaced rocks, not moving creatures. Not that M. didn’t enjoy seeing a plant overwhelm a Walker, but the ivy’s current position was risky.
Without the Walker noticing, M. extended some tendrils towards the ivy. In scientific terms, M. was collecting traces of hormones indicative of the ivy’s lifestyle. In natural terms, however—if one could talk to plants—it was a bit more meaningful.
Sister ivy, you seem stressed. Your home is unsafe. How may I assist?
What oddities.
There was much that M. didn’t know. These oddities were everyday encounters, and they simply have to be taken into context and drawn for patterns. The previous several minutes, however, were completely meaningless, regardless of context. A turbulent and chaotic mess of heat and sound, living and nonliving objects floating in seeming nothingness with no apparent natural cause, and a long-winded tirade consisting of something reminiscent but unnaturally different from that of Walker speech? There was no context here, and no context means no significance.
M. shifted its attention to its surroundings, which it immediately recognized as Walker-ruled territory. It scraped the lack of grass under its feet. This was rightful territory of the grasses, and to replace it with an earth more devoid of life than the remains of a forest fire? What remained of the natural grasses that once flourished here were encased and enslaved into ugly patches, as if to mark the territory of one Walker against another’s. M. had seen such things many times before, but the Walkers’ weapons were too powerful and unknown to allow it to make any progress of restoration.
Luckily, there were only three visible heat signatures, two of which were rather faint and far. Unluckily, all three of them seemed to be Walkers. One was further into the path, in midst of Walker structures, another was on a surprisingly untouched hill under a lone tree. The third and nearest did not seem to notice M. at all, and despite being closer than the other two, seemed to have the weakest heat signature.
There was movement overhead. A heat signature, one surprisingly strong for its size; obviously a rodent of some sort. What confused M. was why a rodent—a live one, at least—would be in the air. It would have to investigate this further sometime.
M. walked towards the nearest tree. It had a shape cut out in the unnatural earth so that its roots had just enough room to hold it upright. Its limbs showed signs of being periodically removed, as if the Walkers had the right to dictate exactly what size the tree was allowed to grow to. There was, fortunately, some consolation: vines and grasses began to break through the unnatural earth and crawl up the structures. There was sun. This place might have hope after all.
M. picked at the earth, temporarily extending some roots in order to break it apart from underneath. As soon as cracks widened, it lifted whole pieces of cobblestone from the ground and threw them at the nearest building. After making a few minutes of progress, it noticed a figure approaching. It was the weak Walker, not approaching because of apparently curiosity or directed movement but because of aimless wandering.
A lone Walker would not be much of a threat. This weak one would likely be unable to stop M. from reclaiming this area, and the best course of action was likely to ignore it. However, as the Walker approached, M. noticed the growth on its back. M. circled the Walker, avoiding direct confrontation to look at this new oddity.
There was no mistaking it. Ivy growing on the back of a Walker. Strange. Ivy should be wrapping around fellow trees and misplaced rocks, not moving creatures. Not that M. didn’t enjoy seeing a plant overwhelm a Walker, but the ivy’s current position was risky.
Without the Walker noticing, M. extended some tendrils towards the ivy. In scientific terms, M. was collecting traces of hormones indicative of the ivy’s lifestyle. In natural terms, however—if one could talk to plants—it was a bit more meaningful.
Sister ivy, you seem stressed. Your home is unsafe. How may I assist?