2017-06-07: To Those That Hunt Technology
- Log: To Those That Hunt Technology
- Cast: Riesenlied, Ethius Hesiod
- Where: Berry Cave
- Date: 7th June 2017
- Summary: Riesenlied convenes with Ethius after the battle at the Fairgrounds.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied has had a very busy couple of last days, inbetween her tending to the aftermath of Operation: Gungnir, rallying and counselling the troops in Old Petra, and catching up with the Drifters in the wake of Adlehyde... not to mention arranging her humanside funds in fairly discreet ways to help out where she can.
But there are threads still outstanding.
Things as they may be, Riesenlied is still curious about several individuals -- one among them, the so-called Technology Hunter. She descends at the Berry Cave's entrances, glancing around; this was one of the Ruins she never got around to checking, even if it may just be a berry-harvest cavern for nearby Surf Village. Her senses are ebbing inside. And where there are Ruins, can she see...?
The winged woman is still draped in her Ellurian cloak -- curious, to possess a cloak of Baskarian origin, evoking the tribes of the Northern Steppes, and her left arm is visibly not functioning, the way she kind of operates lopsidedly.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Ethius has been pushing himself further than the human body - assuming that body of his is indeed human - ought to suffer, in recent times. A man should not weather a Berserk-induced concussion, close scrapes with Metal Beast hordes, and at least two separate deep lacerations and still consider themselves to be in prime condition to adventure. His return to the besieged city adhered to the bear minimum of time to rest and recover. Some sleep, some salves to numb the lingering pain, his own peculiar culinary tastes as applied to whatever roaming monster had the misfortune of being caught. Something still compelled him forward yet, leaving the relative comforts of those few he might consider... a friend? Does he understand what a friend even is? He hardly ever parts with so much as a proper 'goodbye' most of the time. Once more, a nagging thought about something he overheard during the funeral procession for Adlehyde's king brings him to the famous Berry Cave, of which the local Surf Village is this close to requesting Adlehyde military presence to try and keep Drifters out. Recent events make this unlikely. That unlucky bored young man with the pitchfork is all they're going to have, for a good long time. Whether an educated guess, or the help of some off-hand intelligence, Riese is in the right place at the right time. She might miss sight of him getting there, but a casual sweep to the left of her peripheral vision will reveal his unmistakable silhouette and color scheme as he once again comes at rest behind an overturned cart. A tiny dot of blue light - the Spectral Lens - would further call attention to his position from her current vantage point. He does not appear to be aware of the presence of any cloaked people of interest. Something else has grabbed his attention, above all else. What could it possibly be?
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
How fitting, then, that they both have pushed themselves further than their limits. Riesenlied has earned the justified annoyance from her comrades who insist that she really should be resting and getting that shoulder wound looked after -- but her duties on the field are not done yet.
Riesenlied steps closer towards the draped man and states, "... Mister Ethius?"
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
At closer approach, he seems to regard the findings - or lack thereof? - with the shaking of his head. "I suppose it was mere wishful thinking that it might be closer to the surface, without full awareness of its contruction and thus idea of its appearance under the lens," he murmurs to himself. The lens is looking foggy as its light fades - which is an ordinary phenomena after heavy use. The curious thing is that it's already fogging up well /outside of the proper cave/. Just what is he hoping to find with it, and why has he been scouring the outskirts of it so thoroughly? 'Mister Ethius...?' The transformation from an inquisitive loiterer to a deliriously battle-ready stone-gazed... whatever he is... is one made in the blink of an eye. Lens pocketed back under the poncho, both hands on his quarterstaff with his left hand leading, the very end of it pointed towards the throat of the woman in the Ellurian cloak. He says nothing - but there may be pragmatic reasons for this, as there's that sleepy sentry not all that far away from his cover.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied tilts her head, sighing very softly as she holds her one good hand up -- there's no weapon drawn, and she doesn't particularly exude a battle-ready posture as well. "... I thought that I may find you here, Mister Ethius."
She glances aside, towards the cavern. "It seems that you find some fascination with this cavern as well... I, too, sense something from within."
A pause. "But that is not what I am here for, today."
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Ethius internalizes the words - there is yet something else inside of this well-explored cavernous garden of Heal Berries, then, that would be of interest to the Metal Demons. His posture does not relax to her seeming desire for discussion, but Riesenlied - even in her advanced state of injury - still has plenty over this man in terms of hand-to-hand combat. Subtle flaws, but yet also interesting deviations from other polearm-wielding combatants she might have studied over the years that yet add a few prospective layers of unpredictability. He remains wordless. Those eyes of his... the same eyes that saw to the execution of a surrendering bandit. The same eyes as a man who would yet speak kindly and extend a hand of assistance. Unchanging, aside from the biological need to blink... which he appears to be staving off, so long as his eyes are locked upon the smaller of the two. It appears she has the floor to speak. The nearby sentry has him at a disadvantage, if his intent is to remain stealthy - he does not have the clearance to chant a spell in discreet.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied lets out a very soft sigh, lowering her head. "... I am at a disadvantage, if you do not wish to speak to me. Which is more than fair enough, given what has happened."
There is a pause, as she lowers her head. "In the end, however, I have had no reason to lie to you, or Miss Jacqueline. My path is always as it has been... to prevent another Day of Collapse from occuring. To this end, extant of what my brethren desire... I shall proceed, with the Ebony Wings, to ensure those that would abuse weapons of mass destruction and artifacts from the past are halted."
She does a quiet half turn, perhaps as a gesture of quiet trust. She would be exposed, more open, though what lies just around the corner from her?
"But I saw what you did to that Golem, Mister Ethius. As a Technology Hunter... what is your end goal? Do we have commonalities in what we seek? Is there no possible way that we could work together to that end?"
It's a baffling proposition. Work with the Metal Demons? It would be unthinkable to most Drifters. But she is earnest, as is her desire, as she always has spoken... and he is not most Drifters.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
The quarterstaff's tip does not lower, but neither does it plunge. From the corner of Riesenlied's eye, she might see that his gaze appears to be sweeping the landscape. He says little to her pontification in order to lower any odds of his voice drowning out any other audio cues of anyone else that yet lying in wait, or-- A sneeze. The sentry sniffles. "Nobody's even here... why do I have to be posted here today?" The sentry grumbles and grouses and growls unwittingly to the group of two (or more?). What is the end goal of the Technology Hunter, of one whom has displayed the capability to outright damage a weapon of mass destruction? A weapon whose body has largely survived a bloody conflict that destroyed much of its historical record, and who knows how many of its enemies? To have this capability alone, unchecked, makes him a troubling unknown to the major powers in play. The silence on this question as his eyes turn back level upon the head of the Ebony Wings is its own noise. Is he unwilling to say? Another had speculations about their true allegiances and identity, and yet, many of his actions could stand to be in conflict with any of the simple explanations afforded. "My curiosity and desires remain my own." He answers in that same conversational tone that defines him in as low a volume as he can muster, about a second before silence might be accepted as the totality of his final answer. Are his goals truly aligned to simple, selfish ends to ever only be known by him, and him alone? Are they so unknowable that the character and virtue of what they entail could prove - if not a match in their scale - just as dangerous a desire as expressed by Riesenlied's kin? She might see it as he draws in breath. Maintaining this threatening stance is not doing the scar tissue over his chest favors. An imperceptible twitch runs through the fingers of his left hand as the pain his body feels attempts to communicate to its owner that he must relax it. They tighten anew. "I will not deny the claims of your intentions at face value, as they appeared on that day." She was vocal about seeing to the safety of those caught in the middle - at least, in so far as that part of the city went. Some of them might have been funneled into traps set up on the other end, but that would be idle speculation for another to make on their own time. He was there to see the very reappearance of Weltall, the monstrous Gear that is rumored to have been at the very heart of Lahan's woes - the way he weaved around and even underneath it in an attempt to try and fight past Ebon Zero en route to Riesenlied herself - their very presence being pointed out as a specific reason for her actions. ...But do they share the same true goal, underneath it all? He does not provide an immediate answer.
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
Riesenlied lets out a very soft sigh in return, shaking her head as she says, "... if you will not share them with me, then so be it. If you will not speak to me, then there is not much more I can do. I do not believe that you are maliciously minded, Mister Ethius... ..."
She cants her head to one side, as she looks towards the sentry for a moment. "You were thoughtful enough to have Miss Jacqueline's safety in mind. And though you may employ a pragmatic approach to things... that is not alien to me, for you know now how my brethren operate."
Her lips are pursed as she glances aside. "I do wonder. Are we just other pieces of technology for you to hunt, Mister Ethius? Is your alignment with that of the living creatures of Filgaia? I should not see it unusual. It is not the first time that the forces of Filgaia have rebuffed us."
She casts her eyes to the sky, still seemingly so very vulnerable in her expression, her demeanor. "... have you heard of the Guardians, Mister Ethius? The roots of this conflict lie in this planet's deep history. Between my ancestors, and the humans' ancestors. Long-lived, we are a people who have become infected with the cultural poison of vengeance. ... and though I am but one person, incapable of damming the entire tide... I seek to stem that tide of hatred."
Her eyes are shut, adding yet another layer of earnestness to how much risk she's placing herself in. "Because I love my brethren, and I love Filgaia... my goals have not changed. I seek that new world, that we may all flourish in..."
"It is troubling, frightening, to experience a divine hatred that predates you. I wonder... if you have had such an experience, Mister Ethius... there is so little I know about you, and now you know so much of me. But I have never been one to place strong value in deception and obscurity, so... there you have it. This is the state in which we, as Hyadeans, exist in Filgaia."
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Riesenlied bears out her heart to one that may very well be, in their own way, one of the strongest potential threats to the Metal Demons and their people, for all his unknowns. She allows herself displays of exasperation and weakness before this man, whose expressions and posture remain almost unflinchingly rigid. Guarded. What drives this man to be incapable of showing a mutual level of trust, to be more honest about his own ailing mind, body, and soul? The fingers of his left hand stretch out from their grip, as his left shoulder starts to tremble. Her piercing question about his view of what stands before him sees him rolling the shoulder to fight the stiffness and sharp pain going through his upper chest off. He has no answer to this - is it true? With half his face masked, his mouth cannot be gauged. His body language is unnaturally well-controlled. He allows her to segue through the discussion of the Guardians, the origins of their very conflict. The story of what came between her people, and the people of Filgaia. ... Very little of him gives clear answers as to a point of origin on Ignas, or anywhere the Metal Demons have eyes and ears. Ethnically, his skin tone suggests he might be descended from one of the Baskar colonies, but he does not appear to practice any of the known Guardian worship rituals (nor carry a Medium). The tattoos that mark his forearms do not have a clear-cut match with any known cultural symbols or likenesses. His overly wordy vocabulary does not betray an origin point in terms of slang or curious pronounciations. It might make the uncertainty about his motives, or even his opinions, just that much more worrying, more frustrating, more frightening. It is clear that he is not one of the Metal Demons - that might be the only certainty they have! Was he, himself, a victim of such circumstances? A product of hatred that would see his heart close itself off from those around him? The right shoulder starts to slacken. She is bearing her very heart to him, in what can only be sincere hopes of finding some common ground. He must see things her way, shouldn't he? He proved willing and able to severely damage even a Golem - something that only exists for war, for raw destruction, by anyone's comprehension. The quarterstaff is drawn back, to be held vertically by his left hand around the center of its mass at rest... but the gaze does not break, as his right hand goes to his forehead. His entire face is hidden underneath, save for his left eye. The left eye, alone, communicates virtually nothing. "I will draw my own conclusions in time." He speaks in that whisper, at last, those words maintaining the same controlled tone. Unyielding rationale, before unbound passion. A rejection?
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
"There is much yet I do not comprehend. This... I will concede, to you." An absence of knowledge of the complete picture - or simple distrust? "Do not misunderstand. My reasons are to remain my own." To what stake does he dare suggest it is greater than the underlying impasse between peoples, and forces beyond any of them?! Maybe it is an insurmountable consequence of his far shorter lifespan, that lack of perspective, that lack of grasp of a greater continuous narrative and issue that would require many generations of his bloodline to experience the total picture before them! The hand moves away from his forehead, allowing it to lay slack to his side. This is a good sign, in itself - he couldn't conceal his casting visually that way. (He couldn't as long as he held the quarterstaff, and that respective outstretched arm.) "I do not believe you are insincere in intent." However... no, he didn't say 'however,' but the way his voice trails off, it seems like that was about to come right out of his mouth. Could she have won over this mysterious man? "So long as I have no cause to believe otherwise, for today, I am willing to part ways as mere strangers going about our way." Mere strangers? Not friends? Not allies? Not people who share a common cause for the better good of putting an end to a hatred that has taken root for so long?! Why does he so resist wishing to open up so? "The answers I seek... they must be my own. I must insist. Should they lead to the same road... we will speak again, only by need." He turns his back, facing off to his own right as he appears to consider disengagement. "I will not extend this same grace for another."
<Pose Tracker> Riesenlied has posed.
"We all must ultimately seek our own answers, Mister Ethius," Riesenlied speaks gently. "Our experiences are all our own, even if we witness the same event. One person's joy is another person's fear; what brings treasure to another is ruin to others, all the same. That much, I do not chide you for. However..."
She looks up towards the skies and her wings spread gently. "I understand that you cannot possibly walk the path I seek. Perhaps there may even be a time where you find me irreconcilable, simply for what I am... ...for all my searching, there is always the possibility that the world is simply not that kind, and the new world I seek is one that does not exist. But..."
She turns fully now, the smile lowering just a little into a sorrowful expression. "Do consider what a lonely path it is, for a Drifter to walk that path all by their lonesome. Take it from someone who is born anathema to this world, so faced with such scorn that they must be lonesome. The few trips we have made together... I appreciate it."
"Be well, Mister Ethius. You are no stranger to me." She ascends to the air, ever flying towards the skies and disappearing into a glimmer under the sunlight of Filgaia.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
Is someone there?" The sentry asks, drawing the pitchfork nervously as the 'whoosh' of Riesenlied's wings at last reaches the ears of the unlucky Surf Village resident whose lot in life is to just stand in that spot all day and... say 'no, don't go in.' He swallows a lump as he draws near, clutching his meager protection tightly. Silence. "Look... this cave, it's... it's off-limits, okay? If you're just... falling asleep back there, maybe... that's okay? Well, no, Balloons and Rat Monkeys like to come by here, you really don't want to, so..." He peeks around the other side. There's no one there.
"...Nobody?" The sentry seems to be in disbelief... but he wipes the sweat off his brow. "I can take cold comfort that there's nobody there, right? That the worst thing I have going on today is that I'm imagining things, that's... that's still bad."
Then like eight different Drifters just walk in behind him into the cave, laughing and having a good time all the while about the haul they'll get from in here!
DG: The party led by A Bunch of No-Names has passed this challenge! The party gained 12 exploration!