A Can Full of Opener
Log Info
- Title: A Can Full of Opener
- Emitter: Gadget
- Characters: Gadget, Disaster, Ashes
- Place: A14: Artificer's Hall
- Time: Sunday, August 23, 2020, 5:06 PM
- Summary: DISASemblerofmachineryinvolvingTERawattoutputrelatingtoconstructionoftotalanihilationdeathrayandcanopeningservice, aka Disaster, has discovered Gadget's bassinett and assumes that she and the monkey are biological contaminants of his order. He engages in harrumphing and slap-fights in an attempt to drive them off, starting on the monkey. This rouses Ruthie, who was having a deep think in her design chair, and snoring just a little. Further arguing ensues as the colleagues criticize each other and feign respect. Things calm down after Disaster prematurely discharges his weapon, blowing himself in circles around the ceiling. Through more verbal sparring, some design ideas and requirements for Gadget's arm are defined, as well as some options for temporarily or immediately restoring her sight. Gadget laments that most help so far has been verbal. Disaster wanders off, Ash arrives with some food, then feeds Gadget, then listens quietly as the two gnomes work out the contract details. After which Ash takes Gadget wherever she wants to go.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A14: Artificer's Hall *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Artificer's Hall rests slightly off the ground, supported on all sides by eight strong, if nonfunctional legs. The entire Hall is carved from an ancient automation of a giant arachnid. While at one time--many eons past--it may have been functional, today it is a hollowed-out shell of its former self, with rooms made for professors' offices and class rooms. The Hall itself may be accessed by a stairway that leads up, and up...and up through one of its many legs.
Once inside, its appearance is anything but a mechanical spider's guts. With ceilings of polished stone and artifice-metal, the Hall possesses the same, ominous acoustics as any grand cathedral. Twisting, jointed arches of metal reflect its true form--as a great, massive structure hosted within an arachnid's mechanical belly. Everything is dark and metallic, with seams barely visible where pieces have been welded together. The whole building pulses every so often with a hum of energy, powered by a kind of arcane force scarcely comprehended by the outside world. Yet, the energy seems almost gobber-chaotic.
The centre of the building is a great octagon, with eight, great halls leading away from its core. Decorating its core are stained glass windows. They add to the almost holy ambiance. Instead of leading to the outside world, each shadowbox displays life-sized figures enact scenes from Alexandria's past from the Artificer's perspective. They display feats of Building, Achievement, and Experimentation. Towards the north is one depicting the Forge of the World. It depicts what is thought to be a snapshot of the tower at the center of the World Engine, the god's planar home.
The whole of the complex includes dormitories and construction rooms, where artificers compare notes, ideas, and puzzle over the grand works of history. These buildings spawn from the Central Hall in an almost arachnid fashion, connected by walkways of dark steel and overseen by golem guardians.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
An argument is already in progress
In the dim light of the baby buggy, open slightly, the thing that the gnome would see first is a monkey locking eyes with him. Behind the monkey, if he moves quickly enough, he may see the blindfolded face of a woman. Barely an adult, her features aren't halfling enough to be that breed, but the lips are too plump, the cheeks not plump enough, and the chest /far/ too buxom to be a human infant, and that's even before one gets to the thick, luxurious hair spread across the pillow. That monkey, though, keeps himself between the two. Very protective, that monkey.
The Gnome(Disaster) leans back and begins scrbbling furiously. "Not a baby in baby conveyor. Possibly female. Too much hair!" The page turns. "Make complaint to supplier, was accepted that request may contain unnecessary infant but this is unacceptably odd." The little Gnome leans back over the edge of the buggy and waves his left hand at the monkey. "Move out of the way I need to make measurements." Then there is a pause. "I do not have the time to deal with two more organics consuming and defecating while I am working."
"What's your name?" the blindfolded woman says, the monkey slapping at the gnome's hands anytime it gets close to the bedding.
"No! No! Bad monkey! Do not make me anihilate you!" Disaster blurts out as he slap fights with the little primate. Then pulling his hands back and sniffing the little Gnome adjusts his unique outfit once more and responds to the voice. "I am DISASemblerofmachineryinvolvingTERawattoutputrelatingtoconstructionoftotalanihilationdeathrayandcanopeningservice..." There is a pause as he inhales for the next stage of the name then pauses. "The simplistic humans call me Disaster. I am not often querried by my supplies. This monkey is very vexing, it should comply!" He shoots the monkey a baleful gaze. "Were I not loathe to risk damage to this important part of the Mark VII I would employ my electro-point-to-point transference beam! With fully functional can openner, so that you can remain well fed on the march. Soon to be the envy of all armies in the entire World!"
There's a sudden snort, a crash as a wrench is knocked over. Ruthie JingleHammer shakes herself, rolling out of a thinking recliner. "What? Huh? Rrr! Dozed off there. Did you say something Gadget?"
The female gnome switches from drowsy to on the offensive in an instant, "Hey! DISASemblerofmachineryinvolvingTERawattoutputrelatingtoconstructionoftotalanihilationdeathrayandcanopeningservice! What are you doing in my workshop! I've told you about borrowing my tools."
"The monkey is not your supply, nor am I. I am Gadget Hackwrench. This is Mr. Jinglewidget. He is my monkey, and I'd thank you to stop treating us like we're unexpected troubles. We are, but stop treating us like that!" Her voice sounds cross, but it is only the monkey who fights back. She has hardly moved.
With a rattle Disaster jumps and rounds on Ruthie Jinglehammer. "You mean putting things to proper use instead of banging them on pots and pans like this monkey?" Reaching over his shoulder he draws out the EPtPTB w/ can opener. The brass and wood rifle a mixture of tubes, flanges a multi-lense 'scope' and a can openner on the butt of the stock. The device immediately powers to life as his hand closes over the grip. "Perhaps it is time we had this out once and for all! I AM THE SUPERIOR INVENTOR! My push for World Dominance will not be delayed by the permenantly drowsy! You are either inventing or you are no.." There's a pause as Disaster turns towards the buggy.
"As for you talking not-baby Hackwrench and your obstinant monkey I.." The can openner find itself pushed back against a cable, impacting a coil and pulling tight a lever. With a FWOOMP Disaster's wings spread out to their full length, the black leather, wood and metal 'bones' locking into place. "OH SHI.." The little Gnome manages to mutter out before the artifice fires and he goes sailing off towards the ceiling.
GAME: Gadget rolls 1d20+2-2: (1)+2+-2: 1 (EPIC FAIL)
"I AM Inventing!" Ruthie counters, slapping the barrel of the EPtPTB away like she would a fly, "I needed to do some unconscious sorting and inspiration."
Then the artifice goes off, and the Disaster Inventor flies off.
"Don't think you can win an argument with me that way!" Ruthie stomps out and shouts after him. "She's a client and your understanding of other people's property is woefully inadequate. She wants functional arms, not an apocalpyse machine. She's already blown off all her limbs she doesn't need your help removing anything else!"
There is silence from the baby buggy. "That sounded like it didn't go well for Dangeresque, huh," Gadget says. The monkey opens the canopy a little and nods. Leaning out, it paws the floor, dragging the baby buggy along until it gets to the little project Ruthie Jinglehammer had him doing busywork on. Pulling it and the tool in, the monkey wants to get back to work, but as the yelling resumes, the tool goes flying in startled surprise, clattering against something and causing a bit of a domino effect as Mr. Jinglewidget snaps the canopy closed fully, hiding with Gadget in the buggy.
"That's not what happened!" Gadget calls out.
"Waah!" Disaster exclaims as his first circular pass over head whistles by. "Fhack!" He exclaims on the next one. The little Gnome managing to twist and bend enough to keep his gliding form from hitting a wall or beam. Then slowly the burst of energy disipates and he glides down to the floor. Landing on his hands and knees Disaster pants and burbles for a moment as the wings snap back into place within his backpack. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, he reattaches the death ray to his back and slowly brushes himself off and adjusts his outfit. "This is not a good day."
"Sorry Gadget, first assumptions. I've seen it happen before." Ruthie says apologetically to the closed buggy. She watches the other gnome circle and land successfully.
Ruthie steps forward. She is a middle-aged gnome woman who keeps her hair in a much younger pigtails style in an attempt to recapture her youth. One is striped green and purple, the other orange and white. "Now Disater, I've used your full name once already to fulfill Charter Member Regulation 12.3.2, Pretense of Mutual Respect, so I'm not going to do it again today. She's my client and her new arms are my project and I've just started so I don't see why you've over here looking to steal ideas. If you've got a pair of extra-eye goggles, THAT WORK, they would be very helpful for her."
Gadget says, "Makes me wish I could have seen that." She listens for a moment and says, "Yes, I would like to be able to see again," Gadget adds to Ruthie's explanation, though she doesn't /yet/ explain what happened to her, since there sounds like there might still be an argument outside her buggy.
"STEAL IDEAS?!?!" Sputters out Disaster. "You dare! Do I look like I'd need to find a new way to peel a potato? You cannot steal what does not exist regardless!" He juts a long finger at the buggy. "I had ordered this conveyance for the Mark VII! It's unfortunate organic contents will merely be some other experiment I work upon la.." There's a pause from Disaster, his nostrils flare and then he slims his eyes. "Oh, hrmm." He brings his hands together and taps the finger tips against each other. "Not my order, ah, hrmm."
"Yeah," Gadget says. "I mean...this baby buggy was built by a monkey out of trash, so I'm sure Mr. Jinglewidget is flattered at your attentions, but I'm kind of using it just now."
Ruthie huffs, hands on her hips, "I've explained before! Peeling the potatoe is a dexterity test of the fine manipulators in the hand. I'd hardly go through the effort of making an entire limb and testing protocol for something I could duplicate with a lathe. You are required under the Pretense of Mutual Respect guidelines to remember any project parameters I describe, or failing that, say 'uh huh'."
"And yes, as we have been saying, this device is my client's property, not your mistaken inventory. Now, do you have Eye-Goggles, Spider-Eyes, Headband of Veiled Eye?"
"Fine! I was mistaken about the object. My delivery has obviously not arrived yet." Disaster states as he starts pacing back and forth. "Yes, yes, arms, arms." He sniffs and shakes his head. "I rarely bother with artifical occular items, they're costly. Besides I am paid to cause injury not repair it!" He makes a dismissive motions. "They would not be difficult to make however with the proper investment of resources. The headband was pioneered in this building itself I beleive. Back when it was filled with only inventors." The young little Gnome crosses his arms imperiously.
Gadget says, "Are we done fighting, now? Can Mr. Jinglewidget open this up so I can hear you both clearly?"
"Yes, it should be safe." Ruthie says, stepping back into her workshop. "I'll ask around. She needs eyes too. Can't make eyes. Have to find someone who can or get a headband made."
She looks back in the hall, "Didn't you make an eye that shot rays?" Things are re-arranged.
"We are not fighting." Disaster says sullenly. He sniffs and trundles along after Ruthie. "I can make anything that shoots rays. Shooting rays is not difficult. However, getting the body to see requires more organic magic. We need one of those dabblers, the wizards or clerics." Disaster states with distaste. "We have not managed to make them obsolete yet. That and quite a bit of gold. The medium, perferably a gem for longevity and resilience needs to be cut perfectly. You need just the right modulation of light and refraction to allow the vision to be something other than what you'd get in the bottom of a ale glass."
The monkey opens the the canopy, letting Gadget hear better and others see her. "I mean...I need arms, legs, and eyes," Gadget says. "I don't mind how I get them, but I'd prefer they work natively, so to speak. Meaning, when I want to move my arm, I can just...move my arm like I used to."
"Right. Design consultation!" Ruthie concurs, "and a little input from the organic specialists, and a gem-cutter, obviously."
The female gnome is moving things around, "the interface is sufficiently sensitive to detect the original movement impulses, and there is a degree of feedback so the phantom limb phenomenon is defeated. Obviously there is no point in duplicating pain, but mild damage impulses can be incorporated to account for various conditions. The porcelain shell you requested is especially good for that."
The little Gnome crosses his arms, and rests his chin on his left arm's upraised fist. "I wonder if we could simply shove her animus into a golem." Disaster muses as he peers into the baby carriage once more. "One of those war forged." He blinks a few times and looks back towards Ruthie. "Would seem more cost effective and intergrationally sound." He rubs his hands and produces a devious smile. "I have yet to work on them. Such a touchy subject, but such an excellent medium to transport other inventions. I could save quite a few silvers on can openners if I was equiping an army of soldiers that do not need to eat."
Gadget says, "Dangeresque, can we tone down the mutilation or soul manipulation, please? I just need a couple arms, a couple legs, and enough eyes to see. Part of being a good artificer is working within design limitations."
"What was Peggy's idea? An exoskeleton as the final form, or was that Cant's?" Ruthie says, bringing out a safety harness from a box. Gnome-sized, of course. She shakes it off, "Gadget, I got a harness here, I can attach a few more straps then hang you from the ceiling crane if you want to get out of that buggy. Mr JingleWidget should be able to work the controls. No necrotech and soul transfer. Of course."
She looks over at Disaster, nodding, "It's against the guild rules. Officially."
Gadget shakes her head. "I want the option to flee, screaming, being pushed by Mr. Jinglewidget or some other kind soul. Being hung from the ceiling as a decoration isn't my idea of fun, just now."
"Well if you want to go the more prone to accident and problem route. That is up to you." Disaster states to the room. "Integration of multiple pieces of artifice with the living body is complicated and prone to error. Where as a single solid body would be one singular piece of artifice to calibrate." The little Gnome shrugs and brushes his hands. "Well I am complete here, if my order has not come I will have to just got and attack the suplier and wage war upon them for their failures."
Ruthie puts the harness away, grabs her coffee mug and takes a sip, "My creations integrate perfectly well with each other. I have standardized programs that are designed to couple and intereact. It's only when they're slap dashed together that issues arrise. Still, you have a point, legs will be someone else. Or perhaps wheels, have you considered wheels or treads? Biped, quadraped, hex or octoped?"
"No, no." The older gnome woman shakes her head, "Not doing legs, not getting into legs."
"Wouldn't mind having you be a style consultant on legs," Gadget says. "I would like my limbs to 'go' together, though just being able to walk would be nicer than what I have, now."
Ruthie waves as Disaster departs, calling after him, "Good luck finding your order."
She can be heard moving around, until she is standing at the front of the carriage. "I understand not being a ceiling ornament, but are you okay there lying on your back? Are you sure you wouldn't want to be in a proper chair?"
There's a rustling at the door. The ashen Arvec drifts in like a ghost. She's carrying a small bag. The scent of soup adds to the room.
"I'd love to be involved with the style consultation." Ruthie adds proudly.
Gadget takes in a deep breath. "Oh, there's a familiar scent," she says. "Soup kitchens. Trying to eat with a monkey feeding me. Monkeys aren't the best with spoons designed for humans in mouths half the size," she says. She squirms a bit. "When I have arms, perhaps a chair, but for now, my back is well supported, and there's nothing for me to sit up to see, anyway."
"I brought small spoons." Ash says in monotone. She searches for a clear space, then sets the bag down. She takes out two covered bowls, takes the lid off and uses that as a plate for the two loaves she takes out. Her head turns, she looks at Ruthie, "this one is yours."
"Oh thanks dearie," the gnome woman says, pulling the offering towards herself and tucking in.
Ash stares down into the bassinet, she never has a problem with spoons, goblinoid mouthes open very wide and her jaw is no exception. "I can feed you. It will be easier for you to swallow if you're tilted up."
Gadget pauses, Mr. Jinglewidget, too. "Okay," Gadget says. "But keep me wrapped in blankets. Mr. Jinglewidget isn't great at dressing me...plus diapers aren't pleasant to start with."
"I understand. I'm a mourner." Ash says, her words flat. There are sounds of her moving around, she looks at Ruthie, and the gnome gestures at a few frameworks near the wall. One of them is suffient to prop the carriage up at a forty-five degree angle without it rolling away. There's the sudden adjustment motion, she didn't warn, then things are stable.
Ash collects a gnome sized stool and sits on it, putting her knees up near her chest. She pulls a box close, sets the plate down, holds the bowl. She drones on, "I'll touch your lips with the spoon, wait for you to open, slide it in and withdraw. It will be three-quarters full so shouldn't spill any on your clothes. Ready?"
Gadget is fed, but stops any attempts to burp her. "You've been very kind to me, Ashlee," she says. "Even more than the others around here have. With you, things actually got done."
Ashlee does the feeding in a surprisingly mechanical fashion. Enough that Ruthie starts watching her and thinking about using some motion capture aparatus, the Arvek so precisely repeats her movements and timing. Once the soup is done, she hands the bread to Mr. JingleWidget. She will watch the monkey push it against Gadget's face.
Ruthie says proudly, "Well I've got a list of design specs based on what you've said. I will need to take some aetheric response measurements of your limb stump, and some conductive trails. Not immediately. What... ah... was your original height? Are you planning proportional limbs. I can scale something. I can see you'd be reluctant about measurements..."
"Thanks." Ash says, accepting the compliment.
Mr. Jinglewidget is much gentler with the bread than all that. He takes a bite-sized bit and holds it with one hand, then touches Gadget's cheek. When her mouth opens, he places the bit on her tongue and removes his hand. She closes her mouth carefully and chews. Eventually, she gets a break to say, "Three six. I wouldn't mind being taller, but if I'm over four foot, I'm going to look weird....probably really sexy with such long legs, but weird."
"Perhaps three-eleven then? get yourself some really nice gams. Girls gotta dream, right, and if the opportunity presents." Ruthie is encouraging, but there's that hint of madness, of going too far, lurking in her suggestions. She's better at reining it in, "Really, should establish that. Perhaps three-nine. As long as the arms are in proportion you should look fine. You don't want arms that are scaled for three-six and legs for four-two, that'll not do. Also, unless you're planning on wearing a tight bodysuit, your clothing style can tie it together."
"What happened?" Ash asks suddenly, after sitting quietly for a while.
"Bad wizards where I used to live didn't like that I was helping people for free without paying the guild their cut or dues, even though I didn't need spell scrolls or scribing services, so they cut out my eyes and dropped me in a pit full of poisonous snakes and left me for dead. Thanks to Mr. Jinglewidget's help and some inginuity, we both got out alive." Gadget huffs out a sigh. "Nobody back there wants to acknowledge I exist. The local mage's guild is everything. I'm a pariah to my own family. I had to pay everything I had to criminals to 'heal' my limbs, but you can see where that got me. The magic they did even somehow breaks regeneration, so I'm stuck with artifice."
"Okay," Ash says, the answer seems to satisfy her curiosity. She asks nothing further.
Ruthie does, lots of questions, taking notes then reading them back to Gadget so that she's sure they're on the same page. A good thing, as some of her suggestions started to drift in strange directions. The gnome's eyes have a wildfire, this project caught her interest. She's already discussing the left arm, in a display of good saleswomanship or scope creep. Her enthusiasm is reined in, constraints she agrees, are good and Gadget will have to live with the decisions laid down now.
At least, until she can afford to change them up again.
The ashen Arvec listens quietly throughout it all. At one point her choker necklace turns into a large centipede and crawls down to her lap. It drinks soup dregs and she feeds it bits of bread. When the design session is finally over she bids goodbye and offers to push Gadget wherever she might like to go.
Wherever she might roll.
Dramatis Personae
Disaster
Standing at just over three feet tall this young male Gnome casts an odd image. Covered in leather, gears and tools he seems beset by all manner of invention and artifice. Often seemingly at the mercy of the very objects he carries. Atop his head lenses, leather straps a well dented helmet and even a few whistles and bells dominate. When he has hair, if it hasn't been shaved or burned off, it's a short black affair. His eyes are large and brown, almost always behind a pair of thick protective goggles. His large nose sits over a surprisingly well trimmed circle beard.
Over his torso is the aforementioned collection of gears and tools, as well as more then a few pouches and packs. A well made, and highly modified crossbow is visible on his right side as well as a heavy iron hammer. Across his legs are more leather, tools, pouches and a sturdy dagger sheathed on his left leg. A pair of steel toed well worn leather boots with an odd collection of metal bars and springs around them finish the image.
In all there is something unsettling about the small Gnome. Not from his soft voice, earnest curiosity of the unique speed at which he speaks. Just that undeniable sense that something horrible is about to happen.
Gadget
The first thing to note is the baby buggy. There's a human baby-sized bassinet which has been modified to ride very low to the ground on wheels eighteen inches wide.. Inside is a mess of blankets and such with a blindfolded face shaded by the canopy. There is an ever-present capuchin monkey somewhere nearby.