Post by Serori Gibil on May 30, 2013 3:50:18 GMT
Dagan's pod sank to the deep, dark depths, the bottom of the ocean. It collapsed under the pressure, releasing the golem, still in his hyperbolic time stasis field. The blue light was heavily dampened by the water that surrounded him. The solidified time around him, lighter than the water around it, caused Dagan to float to the surface. Its light dimished when it hit the surface of the water, and he was next to unseen, the green against green blending in, until he hit land.
By this point, the time field was wearing down; it had been many, many, many years since it had been forced upon the golem, and could only last for so long. If the scientist that had put it on him was still living, he would be very proud that something assembled in so quick a manner had lasted for so long a time. As it was, though, he had passed, all information about golems, the artificial life and intelligience gone with him (or at least, as far as anybody knew).
With a hiss, the ice-like solid time melted away, dissipating into the ground, steam rising. The golem was left, cross-legged, on the beach, staring at his hands.
It was a while before Dagan realised that he had been released. While the scientist had thought the stasis would shut the golems down, it had in fact only stopped their movements. Dagan's mind had been pondering, rolling, thinking for the years, decades, millennium that he'd been trapped. So much he had thought about, but he had come to very few answers and conclusions. Why was he created? What did he do? What was the point of the flesh creatures? He knew how to use a spear, and a shield, but why, before he'd been ensnared, had he fought? Surely these were to help...?
These questions and more mulled through his conscious, as he continued to sit there, only thinking. Blue eyes, flickering, staring vacantly at his metal hands. What good were they? He would find out. Dagan didn't know it yet, but the world he was in was in a state of crisis, and with his help, any side could get closer to winning. It just took the right words, the right tools, the right incentive. And for now, he had none of these.
As the hours passed, the Golem simply didn't move. He had a sense of time, of motion, but didn't care. After all, without the need to eat, sleep, blink, breath, until he wanted to move, he had no need. With no actual nerves, his legs wouldn't cramp, his arms would never grow tired. But finally, his mind did wander, and it was time for him to move on. Standing up, his feet pushed into the soft sand as his body creaked, metal that had been unmoving for as long as he could remember. How long had it been. He glanced around the land, the sky, the sea. Surely this was not Arcosia, for it looked entirely different. Where could he be? What time could he be? His answers were not here; Dagan walked to a nearby tree, poking at it. Was this a local?
"Hello." His voice boomed, hollow, deep. It was the depth of a rumble inside of a cavern, produced with ki inside of his own chest carapace. Dagan winced at the volume of his own voice, but was concerned by the tree's lack of a response. Was it dead? Surely not, for dead things rotted. But this was no fleshy thing...Confused, Dagan took a few tentative steps forward, unsure really of what to do. He could see no buildings, no people. He didn't even know what people here would look like, they could be anything. Worse, they could be metal eaters, although this was highly unlikely. Dagan shrugged, continuing forward, his feet crashing agianst the ground. It would take some getting used to, but eventually he would adjust, remember how to walk, move, speak. And then he would interact with the locals, gather information, and make a decision from there. But that point was a long way off...
By this point, the time field was wearing down; it had been many, many, many years since it had been forced upon the golem, and could only last for so long. If the scientist that had put it on him was still living, he would be very proud that something assembled in so quick a manner had lasted for so long a time. As it was, though, he had passed, all information about golems, the artificial life and intelligience gone with him (or at least, as far as anybody knew).
With a hiss, the ice-like solid time melted away, dissipating into the ground, steam rising. The golem was left, cross-legged, on the beach, staring at his hands.
It was a while before Dagan realised that he had been released. While the scientist had thought the stasis would shut the golems down, it had in fact only stopped their movements. Dagan's mind had been pondering, rolling, thinking for the years, decades, millennium that he'd been trapped. So much he had thought about, but he had come to very few answers and conclusions. Why was he created? What did he do? What was the point of the flesh creatures? He knew how to use a spear, and a shield, but why, before he'd been ensnared, had he fought? Surely these were to help...?
These questions and more mulled through his conscious, as he continued to sit there, only thinking. Blue eyes, flickering, staring vacantly at his metal hands. What good were they? He would find out. Dagan didn't know it yet, but the world he was in was in a state of crisis, and with his help, any side could get closer to winning. It just took the right words, the right tools, the right incentive. And for now, he had none of these.
As the hours passed, the Golem simply didn't move. He had a sense of time, of motion, but didn't care. After all, without the need to eat, sleep, blink, breath, until he wanted to move, he had no need. With no actual nerves, his legs wouldn't cramp, his arms would never grow tired. But finally, his mind did wander, and it was time for him to move on. Standing up, his feet pushed into the soft sand as his body creaked, metal that had been unmoving for as long as he could remember. How long had it been. He glanced around the land, the sky, the sea. Surely this was not Arcosia, for it looked entirely different. Where could he be? What time could he be? His answers were not here; Dagan walked to a nearby tree, poking at it. Was this a local?
"Hello." His voice boomed, hollow, deep. It was the depth of a rumble inside of a cavern, produced with ki inside of his own chest carapace. Dagan winced at the volume of his own voice, but was concerned by the tree's lack of a response. Was it dead? Surely not, for dead things rotted. But this was no fleshy thing...Confused, Dagan took a few tentative steps forward, unsure really of what to do. He could see no buildings, no people. He didn't even know what people here would look like, they could be anything. Worse, they could be metal eaters, although this was highly unlikely. Dagan shrugged, continuing forward, his feet crashing agianst the ground. It would take some getting used to, but eventually he would adjust, remember how to walk, move, speak. And then he would interact with the locals, gather information, and make a decision from there. But that point was a long way off...