- allsnotwellwithmaxwell -
Wilson stopped mid-step, glancing up at the sky as he noticed the hue very slowly changed from a bright overcast blue to rich orange. It would be dark soon. Adjusting his heavy filled backpack he continued down the road toward his camp.
It had taken months but with his clever wit, and a few well placed traps, he was finally able to best those horrid clockwork soldiers that protected the strange wooden alter. Despite his curiosities for the strange device, that was not what mattered at the moment. He had need for the gears and mechanized contraptions inside the bizarre metal creatures, and he was willing to do what it took to retrieve them. The bishops left him a little burned, and there was one point where he was sure the rook was going to trample him, but here he was, walking home the victor with his much earned reward.
Shifting his weight to his walking stick a bit, he picked up his pace along the stone road, hoping to get back to his camp before night fell so he could start the real work.