#theclockworkmechanic

[peridotswallow]

Digging up graves, although definitely immoral, had provided Wayne with frazzled wires to plug into her creations. With a little care, she could surely reuse them! She hadn't expected, however, to run into a field full of hound mounds. (The-clockwork-mechanic)

@the-clockwork-mechanic

Wilson had just been exiting a mound as the stranger approached. Okay, this person was new. He ducked in again for a moment to grab his spear.

When he got back out he noted that she hadn’t gotten close enough for the other hounds to take note. Wilson marched up to head her off. He didn’t want an incident.

“Hello, I’d advishe not getting closhe. Tha othewsh awen’t gweat with shtwangersh.” He stated, thumbing over his shoulder. “My namesh Wilshon, you?”

[iamanevilrobot-blog]

((Starter for a new thread with @the-clockwork-mechanic!))

It was damp and it was cold and it was dark. The air was thick and humid and heavy with magic and shadows. Half-whispers of dangerous truths and promising lies echoed throughout the chambers, bouncing from the cracked marble floor and disappearing into the infinite ceiling.

In the center, bound and broken and rotting, was WX-78.

Light from magic-fueled pillars reflected dully from their worn shell. Their body was spotted with brown and orange rust as the layers of metal peeled away. Their front panel had long disintegrated; loose wires, faltering mechanisms, and misaligned gear trains were left exposed to whatever elements still managed to exist. Their ragged limbs were threaded with writhing shadows, partially interlocking their structure with the arms and legs of the throne. Parts of their head module were missing, the teeth of gears peeking out as they rotated, rust patterns creeping along their faceplate, holes where bolts should have been.

The black pits of their optical sensors were focused on Wayne as she stepped into the light. WX glanced briefly at the Divining Rod gripped in her hand, her toolbox in the other, then returned their gaze to her bruised and sweaty face.

When they spoke, their voice module cracked and filled with white noise, as if from a distant radio.

“HELLO, HUMAN.”

[iamanevilrobot-blog]

"Do ya think I can take a look at your systems /now/?" (the-clockwork-mechanic)

“FALSE! THESE SYSTEMS ARE PERSONAL AND NOT FOR PUBLIC ACCESS! PUT YOUR TWISTED FLESHLING MIND TO BETTER USE, MECHANIC.”

[iamanevilrobot-blog]

((Starter for @the-clockwork-mechanic. For some reason, tumblr is tagging a weird blog when I try to do this, so I’m removing the tag for now and including a direct link, sorry!))

WX was surprised when the shadows whispered to them that a previously broken radio had returned online. Their predecessor had left numerous paths to the other world through copies of these small kin, but most of the radios broadcasted to nothingness, the pawns already ensnared in Their endless cycle. Curious, they reached out to the other world, feeling the intoxicating mixture of shadow and electricity crackle within their being.

WX learned the radio had been fixed by a fleshling named “Wayne,” and that she was what other fleshlings referred to as a “mechanic.” She took apart their mechanical kin, picking at the poor machines’ innards with their revolting fleshy digits, and laying their components before her in a grotesque display before putting them back together once again. WX decided that this “mechanic” was a psychotic murderer prone to senseless violence.

Smoothing the tips of their audio waves, they spoke through their kin to her, promising her opportunity for close examination of mechanical wonders beyond her comprehension.

Now the fleshling lay before them, trapped in their realm, stirring into consciousness.

“WELCOME, FLESHLING, TO YOUR PERPETUAL DOOM. YOU MAY WISH TO FIND SUSTENANCE BEFORE NIGHT APPROACHES.”

They scowled down at her.

“WHEN YOU INEVITABLY EXPIRE, PAWN, MAKE SURE TO SCREAM.”