((OOC: As I am tired and cannot think properly; therefore, I apologize in advance for the quality of this post. Anyways, discussion thread please? To keep me from forgetting, I’m going to keep track of the cooldown time on Dark Sight. Right now: Dark Sight is available.))
Day of attack
“Asher…once you can control this spell fully, please depart from this town. It will be the safest thing for both of us; the army of Diaz is unreasonable and will not spare anyone if we do not surrender,” Asher’s creator began, worry obvious in his voice as he glanced nervously out the window, and continued, “and if they discover that you can learn as a human does whilst not being one, then….” He was worried for Asher, and fairly certainly that the artificial nature of the construct’s body would be evident if one were to examine him closely – already some of the mages of the invading army were expressing a worrying interest in Asher. Perhaps they had noticed his strange aversion to water, except when drinking it, and the odd combination of brown skin and silver eyes.
“Do you plan on escaping, yourself?” Asher asked, the words engraving themselves on his plate of metal. It was a plate for it would not attract attention if one carried around a plate in his pack. If his creator was not accompanying him in his escape, then Asher would not even attempt to run away. “I cannot venture outside without Diaz’s army staring at me,” he complained.
Asher looked down to the floor, and then looked back at his creator. The room was dark, the walls sparse, the bare minimum of furniture was present, the kitchen stocked with only enough to sustain the pair until the next week: the invading army, for all of their talk of cooperation, had deprived the citizens of Aime of all but the essentials. Soldiers would regularly patrol the streets and barge into houses uninvited to “keep the peace”, but everyone knew that that was only a thinly veiled excuse to suppress what could have been any resistance. The windows of every house could be seen only as panes of glass with dark sheets of cloth covering them as to obscure the activities of those inside.
“Asher, don’t concern yourself with me,” the old man said, “I’ve lived a long time, and my life has been very satisfactory. I am sorry for not leaving this town when news came that Diaz was invading; somehow, the imminent invasion was forgotten by me, selfishly, so that I could continue with my research. All that for naught…” he trailed off. “I’ll teach you that spell to escape the town’s confines, but it will work only in the darkness.” He ran his left hand through his thinning hair while looking down at the table, and let his hand slip down to his side. He smiled at his creation as he said, “Asher…I will not be coming with you as you escape.”
The words on the lump of metal that Asher was holding became unintelligible scribbles as he stared at his master in disbelief. A series of exclamation points and question marks formed themselves upon the metal.
“Asher. I have lived a long time, but you may live forever. When I last preformed maintenance on your core I entrusted it with half of my mana supply,” his creator said, unable to think of how to calm his creation down. He neglected to tell the construct that he had also “updated” the personality to loathe Diaz and his followers unconditionally. The command for “destroy Diaz” had much flexibility; it neither caused suicidal urges to rampage, nor did it make Asher hate the people who were unwillingly following Diaz.
A few hours later, past midnight, Asher had, rather unwillingly, learned Dark Sight. As his core made him obey his creator absolutely, he had to learn the spell, no matter how much he disliked doing so. A strange feeling of hatred for Diaz had welled up in him, but he did not desire to act upon that feeling.
The old man looked around anxiously, for if one of the soldiers had gotten word of the plan to escape, then they would surely both die. “Asher, it’s going to be dawn soon, you should get going. A single touch of sunlight will dispel Dark Sight, so you best hurry,” he implored Asher.
Asher shook his head and stood still. He was not going to move an inch unless his master was coming with him. He then felt the core commanding him to leave and, as he could not disobey the core, he took slow and trudging steps towards the door. His body shook from his effort to stay still and remain within the house. In the end, he could not prevent his legs from carrying him out the door and into the street with Dark Sight active. He looked back at his house with tears in his eyes as he gave up the fight with the core and ran. He cried as he ran, passing by patrolling soldiers. He now hated them now, his hatred growing every step he took away from his home.
The forest’s leaf-litter crunched beneath his feet as Asher slowly walked aimlessly. It had been four days since he had ran from Diaz’s army, but he still had not calmed down. He had tried to think about his abandonment of Aime rationally, but it had been impossible – his mind had been fogged by the memory of his creator resigning to death. Every snap of branches that he did not cause was no longer a trigger for him to look around wildly in the fear that the army was pursuing him; it never was in the first place. He was a lone deserter, surely only one would not matter. He had not seen anyone, but he did not care.
Asher began to hear things as he was approaching a clearing. A strangely-clothed person fleeing from the inside of a tavern startled him, but it did not move him from his spot. Asher decided to sneak up to one of the windows and catch a glimpse of what was happening inside. He saw a dark-clothed person gazing into a crystal orb with a strange smile on his face and the other patrons of the bar slightly drowsy. ’Why is there a tavern here?’ Asher wondered, realizing that bars did not appear randomly out in the wilderness. Well, there were two ways to find out how the tavern had got to be there – ask the people inside, or lurk in wait for an answer. The second option seemed more pleasant and less frightening to him, but would require entering the tavern. It was becoming dark, and he wished to stay inside that night, as an ominous and irrational feeling crept over him. Asher dug up what was left of his resolve and headed inside the bar after pausing at the door for a few moments.
The door opened without a noise from its hinges as Asher gently pushed on it. A maid noticed him and directed him to sit down a table or so away from a person who was playing around with a large, spherical crystal object. Magic seemed to be emanating from it as the person smiled and gazed into its depths.
Asher dug in his pack as the maid hovered near him, ready to take his order. Once he had located his lump of metal, he concentrated on the lump of metal and a sentence wrote itself upon it, “I would like a glass of water and a room for the night.” The maid took a moment to read what it said and then disappeared to fetch him his water. The room seemed darker than outside, yet it had lights. People were feeling drowsy, but Asher was either not yet affected, or he was not going to be affected.
((OOC: Elysian, you can start the confrontation with the soldiers.))
~Please address me as Zorro.
If there are many errors in my post, it is because I am posting from an iPod ~50% of the time.