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Post by Viridis on Sept 8, 2007 19:30:28 GMT -5
Chimaera - Seaside Escarpment(#134R)
Less drastic than the cliffs to the west, there is nonetheless a sharp drop between where one stands and the sea to the south. Grasses of varying lengths, some taller than a man, sprout up in no shortage here, constantly tousled by a strong wind coming in from the sea. The steep slope leading down to the narrow strip of rocky shoreline is adorned with a sparse carpet of thinner grasses. All throughout the area small animals abide, and the ground is full of their holes; in the earth beneath your feet is no doubt a labyrinth of their tunnels.
[ Obvious Exits: <West>, <North>, <Northwest>, <Southwest>, <Northeast> ]
Cue the sunrise. Here on the an escarpment on the southeastern rim of the continent of Eoma, a new day is beginning. There are fewer birds in the sky than usual at this time of the morning...and while it's not easy to perceive from here, fewer fish swimming in the inlet below. The tide is beginning to come in, and the waves are growing interesting. Overhead, there are thick bunches of clouds here and there, while some of the sky remains empty. The horizon is turning crimson.
On the ground lies a bicycle, abandoned, a black pannier strewn nearby.
Overhead, taking advantage of the open sky, a creature spins and weaves around the billowy clouds, shaking droplets of moisture from his feathers as he passes through them. The gryphon banks and dives with gusto, his movements playful and carefree, like anyone graced with wings might be on such a morning. What few birds coast high above scatter as he arrives over the escarpment, and drifting lower he at length catches a glimpse of something unusual glinting in the morning light. He circles twice, then descends with much flapping and lands a few meters away from the bicycle, eying it curiously. He's never seen such a contraption before.
Let him take his time examining it. Everyone deserves their few moments of pure curiosity...their daily dose of wonder and confusion. The gryphon, after all, is often on the receiving end of such feelings, whether in the sky or on land. Best to let everyone know how it feels on every side... Then, as the sun passes a notch higher and the color of the sky shifts toward something slightly silvery, the moment passes. The machine's front wheel turns and becomes mostly vertical, raising the supine frame somewhat. Noise starts to come from it: "Ngggh. Mmmnnhh." Whatever this thing is, it doesn't seem happy.
Taking Viridis to be an inanimate chunk of metal, the half-avian had continued his approach, offering a further glance around to try and spot whoever might have left it here. It's while he's occupied with this momentary distraction that the object comes to life, instantly bringing his attention back and then some -- he gives a little jump, his wings, which were not completely folded, opening a little further in a startled gesture. "Excuse me!" Treoc exclaims, taken aback; but despite his apology he can't help but continue to stare in utter bemusement.
The contraption raises itself further, then sinks. The rubber of the tire strains, and it heaves further, with the sound of magnesium on magnesium. The handlebars spin wearily to and fro; the body of the machine is still crooked. "Oh...no..." it moans. What does its voice sound like? Oddly hard to say. All that's easy to describe is that it sounds masculine, and has a trace of an echo.
What an odd thing to find by the sea on a morning such as this; though, Treoc notes to himself, it would hardly be less odd to find it at any other time of day or in another place. The gryphon begins to circle to get a better look, keeping what he deems a reasonably safe distance, but perhaps for politeness' sake he stops and doubles back when the bicycle speaks, his tufted tail giving a few perplexed twitches. "Are you... err... in need of assistance?" He asks, one forefoot lifting almost gingerly, a gesticulative claw raised.
The voice finds cohesion and seems to become directed toward the gryphon. "Yes...I think I am. How are you, Treoc? Can you give me...a little push?" The frame vibrates, the chain below shakes, and a little straight piece of metal paws at the ground...a kickstand, meant for stabilizing the structure, if only it could lift itself.
There's a moment of hesitation, half from the usual sense of caution, and half from the surprise of hearing his name spoken. The feathers along the back of Treoc's neck raise in a sort of crest as he sidles forward, tilting his head to estimate which end of Viridis ought to be in which direction, then he carefully pushes the odd entity upright with t
he sound of claws ticking faintly against metal. That done, he takes a swift step back to give it some room, now more curious than ever. "You know me?" He asks, not knowing whether he should feel suspicious, or perhaps afraid; for the moment he can only be astonished. "Who are you?"
The kickstand wavers one more time and then finds stability on the hard earth of the bluff. The machine's front end turns toward the good samaritan, its headlight unlit, but its red rectangular reflector shimmering in the early sunlight. "Know you? No, Treoc, not well. We've never met." The machine makes an effort to do something, to move, but a mistake has occurred, and the chain under the frame refuses to turn. The back wheel seems to be non-functional. "I'm Viridis. I'm one of the few who knows. Don't let it bother you. You'll be all right."
The gryphon's beak opens and closes once, then again. "Pardon.." He finally manages to get out. "One of the few who knows.. what?" This gets stranger and stranger. Treoc settles himself to a sit, blue-gray wings finally folding completely, and tilts a feathered ear towards the defective contraption. "And, if it's not too rude to ask, just -what- are you?"
"Who? What? How? I like you," says the gentle, distant voice. "You ask the right questions." A light breeze floats in from the ocean as the waves grow more regular...every seventh wave, or thereabouts, is large. The sunrise is now streaked with yellow. "I know...what I need to," says the contraption. "I am...a wizard." The rear wheel moves as if trying to spin, but instead only a pitiful squeaky sound emerges. The thing tries repeatedly to move forward, but cannot. "There are two kinds of wizards," it philosophizes, now looking back toward land rather than at the creature. "Those who know things, and those who can actually do something about it." Its tone is a bit irate, understandably.
Somehow the proclamation of being a wizard isn't as surprising as it might have been, perhaps because this is Treoc's first encounter with either bicycle or wizard. Still, he's heard tales of the latter, and never imagined that, if he happened to come across one, that it would look quite like this. He's no mechanic, but he's perceptive enough to know that there's something wrong with it (or at least the form it's inhabiting) and once again he circles, looking over the gears and disjointed chain, the slightly askew back wheel. "How did you come to be like this?" He asks; whether about Viridis's current incarnation or his battered state is for the wizard to decide.
The bicycle lifts its front end slightly, scoots to one side, and then does the same with its rear end, effectively rotating just a little bit toward the gryphon. Its parts rattle a little with this, and it freezes in pain for a moment. Then the answer: "I...can't imagine that they knew I was coming so quickly. It seems possible...their magician may have laid a boobytrap for me. But I honestly don't know. It might have been a huge flying fish out of the water...it might have been lightning. The fact that I can't tell is especially disturbing. Normally, as you've seen...when I need to know something, I do." The taillight flashes twice in a little square of blaring red.
Treoc finds these answers more confusing than illuminating. He finishes circling and once again sits before the self-proclaimed wizard, ruffling his feathers for a moment as he contemplates what to ask next. There is much he's curious about -- where did Viridis come from? Who is the 'they' that he mentioned, and why would they have laid a boobytrap? For now though, he decides on something more practical. "You seem to be injured, but I don't think any of my healing skills, as limited as they are in the first place, would be any help to you. What can I do?" Maybe getting involved in wizardly affairs is a dangerous risk, but all the same, the bicycle has given him no reason to be rude or unkind.
To be involved in the affairs of gryphons is an adventure at the least, for that matter. The machine quivers and stills itself, becoming straight and rigid. As if lost in thought, a metal tab creaks open, and the machine bounces up and down a couple of times, shaking the wheel in back from its position. "If you want to be helpful, Treoc, you can take my chain--you know what that is, I assume--and thread it off of its gear." A joint flexes and the chain loosens, giving it slack...but the gear it's on refuses to turn.
Treoc moves forward a little less timidly than before, taking the opportunity to more closely examine the gears and the chain. He's lead a simple life and doesn't know much of machinery, but it's his lack of knowledge about human physiology and a bicycle's normal function that most perplexes him about its structure. Placing one talon on the seat of the bicycle to make sure it stays upright, he hooks his other claws under the chain and lifts it carefully away from the rearmost gear. "Like this?"
The bicycle gives a little reflexive leap when the talon pokes his seat. He stills himself except for a vain attempt to rotate the rear gears and pedals. They simply won't turn. Instead, he shakes from side to side, rattling the derailleur. "Yes, like that. I'm afraid I can't get my chain off." The anterior of the mchine turns and the front reflector shines reluctantly. "I'm afraid we'll have to take it apart." The anticipation of pain sours his voice. "Here, just a moment." A little red pack underneath the seat swings out and a zipper comes undone. A little tool falls from it onto the ground. "Do you see that? I think you can operate it. The button is pressed in, and a shaft comes out. That shaft needs to push through the tiny circular hole in one of the links of my chain. If you can manage to remove the pin, the chain will come undone and we can remove it." He turns to fac forward again, stoically. "Take care not to lose the pin, Treoc."
Luckily enough, the gryphon's 'hands' are more dexterous than one might expect, though in this particular case the claws, which are usually used with precision, are likely to get in the way more than they help. Treoc picks up the tool somewhat awkwardly, giving an appreciative little "Hmph." As he pushes the button and the little shaft pops out with a click. He takes his forefoot off of the seat, trusting Viridis to keep his own balance for a moment, and gets himself a better grip on the chain, squinting in concentration as he tries to line the contraption up with the pin-hole. Eventually he manages, and as gently as he can, dislodges the pin about half-way. From there he pulls it free with his talons (as not to loose it) and the chain falls with a soft clink as it comes apart. "Hah!" He exclaims to himself as he holds up the pin to examine it, feeling rather accomplished.
Meanwhile, the bicycle, while he has no trouble keeping himself stable, is shivering in discomfort. His headlight blinks once for a second, then faded out rapidly. Once the chain is severed, he shakes his pedals and works the rest of it out; it falls to the bare dirt. "Now it gets harder," he murmurs. With a sudden, huge jolt, he bucks like a rodeo bull, squeezing his rear brakes until the connection comes loose, and his entire back wheel falls flat with a clang. The rest of the bicycle rolls forward on the front wheel, a couple of meters down the slope toward the cliffs in the southwest, and then the rear end, with its wheel gone, sets itself down on the dirt. The bicycle's motion stops. A wheezy sound comes from it, and in a few moments it says, "I'm going to have to rest for a while. Thank you, Treoc. You can leave everything where it lies. Or better, you'd save me a little work by slipping the wheel and chain into my pannier--it's over there by the grass." He gestures with his handlebars.
Treoc gives a startled hop backwards at the bicycle's violent movement, his wings half-unfurling again reflexively; somehow he manages to keep hold of the pin. He looks between the rear wheel and the rest of the contraption, blinking in mild surprise, which he seems to snap out of when Viridis speaks again. "Oh... yes, of course." First he returns the strange little tool and the pin to the red bag under the seat, and then picks up the chain in his beak and uprights the wheel, rolling it over to the pannier. It takes him a moment to figure out how to undo the bag's latches, but the task is soon accomplished, and the gryphon heads back down to join his unusual new acquaintance on the slope. "Would you prefer if I left?" He asks a bit reluctantly in response to Vir's comment about needing to rest. It's not every day he gets to converse with a wizard, after all, and his curiosity is far from abated.
The bicycle remains calm as the gryphon accesses the bag in his private region--after all, this is a medical emergency, and no time to be squeamish. He seems to relax with relief when the clean-up is done. "Stay around," he says in an indifferent drawl, the echo in his voice becoming a little more intense. "I'll be a while getting home on one wheel, so I may as well have some company while I rest." The kickstand adjusts slightly to the unusual circumstance of having no back wheel to balance out the bicycle's ends. "Would you like to know how your family is?" he adds politely, with no particular interest.
Treoc is about to ask where Viridis's home is, but is quite caught off-guard by the offer to hear about his family. He tilts his head slightly as he considers the possibility that he heard the question wrong, and spends another second or two thinking skeptical thoughts, but after the brief pause he merely responds, "Sure." and his ears perk up expectantly. He supposes there's likely no harm in hearing what the wizard has to say, whether accurate or inaccurate, after all.
The mechanical wizard makes conversation as if he were talking about his own family in response to an innocent query. "They're fine, they're all fine. Your sister misses you...and your mother thinks about you now and then, but for the most part, you aren't really on their minds." He looks away across the ocean. It's fairly bright now; the sky is orange and lavender, and clearing up. The sun is still touching the horizon, but not by much.
Hm.. well. That sounds accurate enough to be true, but of course vague enough to be a lucky guess, as well. Still, Treoc has other things he'd rather hear about; fair enough that his family doesn't think about him very often, as they aren't exactly on his mind a lot these days either. He doesn't press for further details about them. Instead he clicks his beak thoughtfully, his gaze not following Viridis's off towards the horizon, but remaining steadily on the bicycle. "Forgive me for prying, but when you said before that they didn't know you were coming so quickly... who did you mean?"
The handlebars turn slowly toward the gryphon, though not apparently in suspicion or anger. "Oh, I don't think they did. I think they most likely set a trap...or perhaps someone's on their side, helping them out from behind the curtain." His loose, disconnected rear brakes compress tensely in the open air. "I have my theories...but it's always an uncomfortable feeling to have nothing but theories." The front reflector shines for a moment. "Anyhow, I meant a bunch of troublemakers who have their headquarters in Aetheris. I think you may have met one of them last week. They're pressing harder to find the answers...and right now, I'm vulnerable. I'll be in big trouble if they find me here."
Some thread of understanding is pulled in the gryphon's mind, and his interest is suddenly piqued even further. He leans almost imperceptibly closer, his expression intensely curious. "The answers... you mean, to what's been happening? The merging?" The feathers on the back of his neck raise into a crest again momentarily before smoothing out. "Do you know what this is all about, then?" Perhaps it doesn't occur to him that if Viridis was reluctant to give information to the so-called troublemakers in Aetheris, he probably would be equally reluctant to give it to him. Then again, there's no harm in asking, is there?
Uh-oh. That red reflector is now shining from a deep heart beyond its physical depth. Certainly the rising sun isn't making that glare appear. "I did tell you I was one of the few who know," says the voice, now somewhat imperious. "There are reasons that number is few, Treoc." There's a feeling to the machine, as well, suggesting that even in its crippled state, it's nothing to be crossed lightly.
Treoc recoils ever so slightly from the glare, his posture stiffening as he looks down his beak at the bicycle. For a moment or two there is silence, and the gryphon continues to stare thoughtfully as the breeze rustles through his feathers, considering his next words. "Is there anything about it which you might safely tell me?" He asks at length, apparently only temporarily deterred from his inquiry. This metallic creature is strange indeed, thinks Treoc, but despite the glimmer of hostility he was just shown he suspects that its intentions aren't quite malicious.
The silence permeates the day. The morning birdsong halts, and the few waterbirds soaring and diving either circle aimlessly or find temporary perches. Even the rising tide seems to still for a few moments. The bicycle's crux--where the handlebars meet--vibrates. "I can tell you that it was not through mortal sin that this occurred," says the machine at last. "Not, at least, the sin of all, nor most, nor many, and not a punishment divine or karmic. If your soul is anguished with this fear, rest--you shoulder none of the burden for what has befallen us." Gradually, sound and activity come back to the scene, and the red light fades.
For some time after their surroundings have returned to life, Treoc remains still, quietly reflecting on what's been said. His eyes are no longer focused on Viridis, nor anything else in particular for that matter, and the curiosity held therein seems to have been at least partially satisfied. "Very well." He says finally, his tone subdued, as he gives his wings a little stretch and looks over his shoulder to the north, across the blanket of treetops who's leaves are glittering in the growing light. "What's to be done?"
"I will make my way home," says the mysterious machine. "As for you, I could attempt to answer that question, but your own answer rates to be better. Go to your errands, Treoc, and live your life. There are not many who meet me--it was only chance that you happened to be the first to find me after my injury. For that reason, you may see me again." The bars turn his way, and the pedals, no longer attached to a chain, begin to turn easily. The bicycle's rear end jerks into the air, hits ground again once or twice, and then rises until the bicycle is balanced, more or less, on its single wheel. "If your question was larger than that, I have no answer for you."
Treoc certainly hasn't run out of questions, but for now he asks no more. Instead, he gives a polite nod, standing and shaking out his feathers. Each wing opens to its full, impressive span, one at a time, and he preens them briefly in preparation for flight. "Farewell for now then, I suppose." He offers once the pre-flight check is complete. "And good luck." He adds with a slight note of sympathy and a pointed glance towards the pannier.
The bicycle turns to 'face' the gryphon before he takes off. "Farewell yourself, Treoc. For you are now one of my people, whether I like it or not, and it will not do for you to meet harm. I cannot know the future...I only know the present." He wheels carefully to the pannier, sets his rear end down, and gradually, carefully adjust his kickstand so as to be nearly lying down upon the black fabric. A few imperceptible moves later, and the thing is hooked to his dangling rack. He now rises up and flips the pannier beneath himself, and it provides a cushion against the starkness of the missing wheel.
Another moment is taken to gauge the direction of the wind and to consider just how he feels about being one of Viridis's 'people', though Treoc has little idea what exactly is meant by that... still, he must not think it direly important to know, for he doesn't ask for clarification. Having no more words, and some other task at hand, he spreads his wings fully and, using the steepness of the incline to his advantage, leaps away from solid ground and into the sky, the wind from the sudden fierce effort of his wings tossing the grasses wildly behind him. A moment later he's climbing high over the waves in a wide arc to the west, gradually shrinking into the distance until his indistinct form blots out against the darkness of the mountainside.
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