Taint Talk
Tenebrae - Monday, July 21, 2014, 5:47 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--<* A06: Lower Alexandrian Gardens District *>=--=--=--=--=--=-
The city is divided, unofficially, into Upper Alexandria and Lower Alexandria. The Upper resides further up on the slope of the mountain, and rests to the east of the great river. The Lower resides to the west of it, and if the Lower could be said to have a heart, this verdant park might be its center.
Amid all the bustle of the Lower City, its Gardens District provides a peaceful respite. The warmth of Althea holds sway here, and though Daeus receives the occasional nod, this is clearly Her domain. She shares it with Dana, in the verdant green of this area. Vines and trees, remain green no matter the season and numerous flowers bloom along the park's walkways. Faerie-light lanterns hang from branches and along hedgerows.
A number of shops may be found here, most notably the city hospital, for which the park was originally built. Though now open to the public, the gardens by and large, remain underneath the hospital's care. However, in the Althean tradition, much of the work is provided by volunteers.
Munch clicks quietly but rapidly along the paths of the park, metal toes catching the occasional cobblestone. Magicite eyes glow faintly, peering about as the golem slinks along, sometimes dropping low, almost to all fours, other times standing tall and still, seeking. Munch is Hunting... and activity frowned upon... well, most everywhere, really, but extra so inside the city limits. Except for those times when something neferious and dangerous is loose, which does tend to be his typical prey. The golem might not be the brightest of invidividuals, but lynch mobs make for a sharp learning curve.
It's evening in the Gardens District, and the heat of the day is drifting away. Svarshan is resting on one of the larger boulders, just off the beaten path. He's noticible, but out of the way--a man enjoying some quiet time in this day and age. His eyes are half-way shut, though the Sun is drifting away.
He looks up as Munch clink-sneaks past, watching quietly. More alert now, but still. Determined to enjoy the quiet of the evening.
Munch blinks, metal eyelids closing with a soft click, and backs up a few steps. Hunter instict and social protocal collide in a mental train wreck, laeving the barbarian stareing for a moment. Prey isn't supposed to sit quietly! Wait! No! -Not- Prey! Much has great respect for the simple logic of the FoodChain, and the BrightBlade sit several levels above himself. Slump, avoid direct eye contact, don't appear as a challenger... awkward. "...you can be difficult to find. I'd like your advice."
Slow blink, slow adjustment. The sith rolls over on the (comfortable, Sun-heated) rock, and watches the golem for a while. He looks surprised at the question, in his own lizard-like, and slow-moving way, and opens his mouth...
...for a moment, nothing comes out of it. Then: "Kssst. It iss yours to. Have." He pauses again. "May you find. Light beneath the Dragon'ss Wings." He starts to add something after that, and stops.
Munch nods, his stubby little dragon wings fluttering a moment. "May peace be to your Nest." That's good protocol, right? Munch steps closer, and crouches down, legs not bent right for comfortable sitting. Reaching back, the barbarian pulls his GraetAxe free from it's spot upon his back. A thin layer of skin had grown over the handel, keeping the weapon firmly in place, and layers upon layers for the remains wrap around the haft, forming a leathery sheath; the item is every bit as organic as the golem himself. "You chomp demons. Tales are many, and well told across the city, and to the lands beyond. How..." Munch hesitates, pondering. "...demon meat is not like other meat. It's not just chemicals. The... infernal taint... it lingers."
Svarshan's quiet a while after Munch's words. Not easy words, those. He takes time, pouring over them...and then draws in a slow breath, focuses on the automation. "That. Isss an. Unusual. Quesstion. What bringss this on the. Wind?"
The sun is setting on the evening--not there yet, but headed that way, and the warmth of the day continues to ease. Thankfully, for the sith, the heat of the rock still lingers.
Munch ponders a few moments, not in what to say, but how to say it. "I was built, in part, to bring peace. To take dangerous things and neutralize them. Turn monsters into meat. Turn toxic chemicals into salts and alloys. But the taint... I don't know how to neutralize that. Only contain it, for now."
"..." Svarshan's inner lids flicker and he raises his head. Thinks. "I...dine becaussse. The gods afford me. Immunity. But..." He pauses for a while after that. After that.
"But they...the flessh sshould be. Desstroyed." Again the quiet, the turning of thoughts over one another. He looks down at the earth and traces out a series of patterns, deep in thought. Then, "Are you. Currently tainted?"
Munch shakes his head, and shudders a little, holding out a hand before his face. A slight lurch, and a small bit of vomit, into his hand. Mucus, sharp and citric, and... marbles? "Issolated and contained. Wrapped in a mix of salt, lead, iron, and silver, then a layer of resin. It's not going anywhere, but is building up."
The sith-makar twitches. TWITCHES. There's the small jerk of shoulders, the small twitch of an inner lid that's as loud as another man's shout. "Ssaaa..."
Silence.
"...I. Sssee. That isss a. Problem."
Munch nods. "Baseline protocol. Issolation of substance pending refined neutralization methods for later processing." The golm blinks, and tries again. "I store stuff until I can figure out how to take care of it. Was an acidic fungus that took a while, a couple strong poisons, and Void Deamons still cause fits. But this stuff I'm not making progess on. So, seeking advice and ideas."
Longer silence. The sith taps his claws against the rock, against the soil. And, "...it. Dependsss on the creature. Devil. Demon. We often do not make disstinction but for you, there mussst be." He pauses again after that.
Arrange thoughts.
With a claw, he begins to draw in the earth.
Munch nods. "Demon and Devil. Infernal and Abyssal. Iron and Silver. Law and Chaos." He golem sighs. "The ideas I can follow, though I don't really -get- them. And what to do with it all is still a mystery. Not a massive rush though. I mean yeah, this stuff builds up, but demons aren't that common. It's slow advance. Likely a couple years before is a real problem. Though Necromatic taint gives a similar problem, and with Dragonier, that may get troublesome. Got some ideas on that front though."
"If you. Would desstroy one's essensse, you musst. Undersstand the. Disstinction. Devils...may be harmed by what remindss them. Of their masster's imprisonment," the throne-cage of Maugrim, the dragon's chains, for example. "If they are ffire, burn them with isse, but always. Blessings. Upon the. Assh. To desstroy that which rides the wicked wind, you mussst fight it. With a core of goodness." The sith looks up and blinks once, first the inner lids, then the outer. "Demonsss...forged by man'ss sinss and that which iss. Forbidden. Devilsss, from the foulesst soulss. Rapissts. Murderers. They who have. No remorsse."
Munch listens carefully, then blinks hard, and shakes his head. "The words... I get the words. But the... concepts behind them... They... shadows. Mist. If I can't hit it with an axe or burn it with fire, I don't get it." The golem blinks, and peers down at the Axe on his lap, giving it a small shake, muttering softly. "Hush." Yes, he's talking to his axe.
Svarshan follows the look. He focuses on the curious blade a while, and then...then quiets again. Gives him a slow but sudden shake, as though shaking off the comfortable cobwebs of the Sun-warmed rock.
"Come. ...here," he says. The words are quiet and thoughtful. Not threatening, but full. "Pleasse."
Munch shuffles closer, unconcerned. Well, not, that's not quite the right term... Accepting? He's confidant whatever Svar has planned is for the greater good. What is means for Munch personally isn't important. It's... it's a golem thing.
Focus. The brightscale quiets again. Though never very talkative, this is a particular sort of stillness...an inner quiet that reaches outwards, an inner...a burning. No, a warmth.
Not the air, but -something- thickens the surrounding area. It warms it, and it moves outwards. It presses against Munch, leaving a feeling of peace. Of friendship. Of courage and good fellowship.
Munch shifts restlessly, but quietly. The metal man was made for battle. Peace and fellowship are... not forgin, but secondary to his nature.
"Faith. ...hass intent. It exissts with emotion, cons..." Svarshan takes the word back in, examines it, before using it. "Consciousness." Exhausted for a moment he rests there, reflecting on the words.
On what to say.
After a moment, he moves just enough, the movement careful. Slow. The I'm-not-harming-you. Deliberate. ...and places a hand against Munch's chest. Warmth surges forward, but not just warmth--that same sense of fellowship. Friendship. Inner strength.
Of welcome.
Wounds heal, fatigue is gone.
"It isss. Magic with. Intent. ...demonsss. Devilss...are formed of. The oppossite intent. Of that."
Munch nods slowly. "I understand that. I..." He ponders, not the best with words himself. "I have the pieces, but I don't know how to fit them together."
The sith pulls back his hand, rests it along with the other, on the rock. "The firssst sstep. Iss assking. ...the hardesst iss trussting your. Ssoul. It iss not ssomething you can. 'Undersstand' through. Words."
And then the sith's features take on an odd look, almost a wry, comical grimace as he looks to Munch. COnfides, "I hate. Wordss."
Munch buzzes softly, and nods. "Actions are louder. But being loud isn't always the best way." He quiets a few moments. "I think I follow what you mean... but... I'm not sure it's... my style? Something to think on. Thank you."
"Sssa. It isss for you. To desscide." Pause, pause. "It iss more sssimple than the. Philossophers would. Saay. Words," the sith adds with distaste, and then sort-of grins. "Ssa. Thank you. For letting me /share/ words," he says, with a mixture of irony, humor, and appreciation.
Munch blinks, and ponders a moment. "Might talk to some of those philosophiers anyway. Most of their words are just noise, but sometimes there's a good diea in all of them. Just have to sort through it all to find the good stuff."
The sith gives a low hiss--like air let out of a fissure. It has a warmth to it though, sort of like a laugh. "Ssaa. ...and do not. Let them tie. You down. With...words." He makes a vague gesture. "Wordsss...will not. Give you the undersstanding you want. ...but. Until then you. Might have a priesst remove the. Darkness." Pause, pause. He lets go a slow breath. "The oness of the Sun are. Well-ssuited. ...and the Dawn," he adds as an afterthought. Serriel's.
Munch nods, and ponders a moment before shaking his head. "Removal is easy. Could spit the pellets into a hole and walk away. But doesn't solve the problem. Something could dig up the hole again. I'll consult the priests, but the trouble is still mine. I need to learn to fix it myself. Eventually. Nothing wrong with help along the way."
The sith nods, a flick of tail. "A thing. To. Resspect," he says. And, "But there iss ssome danger in. Ssuffering too much in the. Between-knowledge. How will you. Let you ssoul lead, then?"
Munch buzzes a soft laugh. "Same as always. Head down, full charge. It's the way for me."
"Kssst! That iss the. Way. ...one way. And when you charge. Are you...unfeeling?" Svarshan asks. Struggles with the words.
Munch starts to shake his head, then pauses, and ponders a moment. "I... enjoy what I do. But that's not why I do it. Feelings are... support. But not the core."
"The. Core?" The sith flicks the end of his tail, and focuses on Munch as he asks the question.
Munch shakes his head. "The core reason. The Purpose behind action."
"Then. Perhapss focuss on your feeling about. The Purposse. Its...the core. Of your core." Words come with difficulty. Svarshan moves as though to stand up, or at least, to drop to the ground beside the cooling rock. Sad rock!
Munch nods, and stands, idly shifitng his Axe to his back again, holding it there a moment as the skin regrows to hold it in place. "I will consider them carefully. Not quite a solution, but I think is a step foreward."