Solo [Case 1] The Wooden Writer

[Lenore]

Timestamp: Spring 514, 33rd

Grey veins traced immodestly by bloodless eyes. Lenore wasn’t so gifted that the digits were readily evident, regardless the wooden blocks would return results. It was uncertain why the relatively pliable wood was greyed, perhaps by precipitation? The reason was irrelevant so long as the construct would perform for Lenore’s judgment. Unintended consequences could be terminated after success.

Accurate. The slender-fleshed Nuit soundlessly debated knives from the lab’s assortment. It selected one. Experimentally sliding the edge along one block’s corner. Eye’s lilting upwards in satisfaction. Section by section the block yielded, slice by slice, then shaving by shaving. Whittling away at the block. Every third stroke it would stop and examine the shape. Always they remained comparable to its vessel’s smallest fingertip though twice as large in scale. There would be time for detail in the final phases. Placing the portion of a digit on the desk, the Nuit apprehended the next block of wood. Again shaving away. The first product was a fair approximation though it was beyond Lenore’s skill to duplicate in authentic size a real finger. Furthermore it required smoothing yet. In this fashion the Nuit carved out lumps corresponding to each length in its right hand excluding the joints. Three of these lumps, after inspection were discarded and carved anew.

With the assortment of fourteen pieces arrayed in mimicry of their bodily ancestors, the Nuit halted. Surely sections of fingers had proper names but it was beyond Lenore’s expertise. If this project succeeded it would take advantage of Sahova’s facilities to learn these names. Until then it carved monikers into them, the base of the smallest finger as ‘A1’, the middle piece as ‘A2’ and the first piece of the second finger as ‘B1’. With this convention their order could not go astray.

Two structural pieces yet remained. The creator assessed its remaining wood specimens. Calm calculation begetting evaluated choices and it concluded upon a particularly dusky grey piece for the bulk of the hand. Some of the technique was less involved in making the greater portion of the automaton, presently it only need be a rounded, thin block. It lacked the boney ridges and murky decaying veins of Lenore’s vessel’s own hand. Only one difference was intentionally imparted, where the hand would eventually join the wrist the carver smoothed into a protruding half sphere.

And so in the final piece, the wrist, Lenore carved inwards at the base. Through it was not perfect by any standard the wrist matched with the hand piece’s outward sphere. The wrist piece cut off shortly, only ending up a few fingers long. That was all the automaton would require if Lenore’s plans did not sunder.

All that remained was to make small balls out of the remaining scraps of wood. These would serve as the joints between the finger pieces.

With each bell passing the slow process churned. No time had been allotted for failure. Lenore would not begin her career marred by failure to produce at her judgment.

[Lenore]

After carving rounded indentations on the end of each finger segment which would be joined with another, Lenore finally replaced the carving knife. Even still it was far from finished with the wood working aspect of the project. The nuit did not know how to carve intricate designs or glyphs into the wood to further impress the judges, indeed the designations already carved into them looked childish at best, but there was one process yet the wood could undergo to appear more finished.

Liberally it slathered the carvings with an oil reduced from animal fats. Perhaps the grease had different applications that the other mages could utilize, Lenore didn’t know. Nor did it know to provide a sealant or varnish. Instead after the fragments were thoroughly coated in oil, it rubbed each and every piece of wood smoothing down the grain and edges with a swath of jute. Setting down the newly oiled and smoothed pieces, Lenore had to wait a few moments for them to dry though the fabric would have removed the majority of oil. Not to imply there was time to rest for the insidious.

Promptly it began to section out lengths of wire, simple metal cabling usually relegated for jewelry, into twenty-six short pieces no longer than the length of its hand. Additionally Lenore cut two further pieces, these thrice as long as the first two. Lacking classical training in either carpentry or mathematics measuring by sight was the best estimate available.

Aptitude. During the process, the Common labs had quieted significantly even given the proximity of the first judgment of the season. Night must have fallen, as Lenore vacated its seat to find a more specialized tool in the lab it noted the lack of beating hearts. It was the superiority of Nuit researchers on display, bodily functions became largely nonexistent and so projects gained the advantage of truly undivided attention. The admirable Pulsers that chose to compete must be the greatest minds of their kind, or so Lenore speculated. Even though it had never been its impression that the judgment was a competition among the applicants, if one product fell beneath the quality of a Pulser’s… who would want such an apprentice?

Eventually the animator found the tool it was seeking, oddly enough among dissection supplies. It must have a different purpose than on wood but the tiny spike of twisted metal seemed sufficiently hard. The little hand drill being precisely what Lenore needed, although the curiosity of its relevance to dissection remained on its mind on the return trip.

Reacquainting with the dried segments of hand took only a moment, three had rolled out of position but the naming scheme meant Lenore lost none of its work. Systematically, again starting from the smaller finger’s base joint, the nuit hand-drilled tiny holes through the pieces horizontally. From the rounded ends that would eventually join it drilled another hole to intersect with the initial hole making an internal channel that resembled a ‘T’. With each piece that would conjoin this process was repeated, in this way the holes for the wire to connect the joints. Furthermore, it drilled holes directly through the round spheres which would make the joints.

[Lenore]

In actuality pushing the wires through the three pieces of wood required considerably more time than anticipated. Lenore pushed the wire through the verticle hole first, and though the wire fell relatively flaccid it was still a chore snagging it on the downward hole so that it didn’t go straight through the finger to the other side. From the end of the finger the puppet-maker threaded it through the spheres and into the next segment. To anchor the wires, each end was twisted around the digit and tucked the end beneath these coils. It certainly would not last several season but long enough for Lenore to discern a more permanent solution in future models.

Ambitious The hand was complete, as similar to its own hand as Lenore’s skills would allow. It was certainly bulky and not appropriate for very techniques used to make it such as human hands but it could complete the assigned task when the time came. There was just one modification that it would require beyond a normal hand’s function, an auditory organ.

Finding the appropriate leather turned out to be harder than any of the materials before. The thick burly leather used for rough skin or protection was abundant. Finding the leather piece so thin it could simulate an ear sent it into the farthest corners of this particular lab. In the corner where one nuit worked alone, clearly using the corner to obscure the rest of the room from seeing his project, Lenore noticed a shelf where several thin leathers sat piled atop one another sitting just above the secretive researcher.

Hypocrisy Lenore couldn’t care less what its peer was working on. Unlikely any mage relegated to the common labs instead of their own private chamber would possess the expertise to craft a masterpiece. None of that apparently concerned its peer, perhaps because of paranoia. As Lenore ventured closer the other Nuit threw a linen sheet over its work and glared, in response it completely ignored the fool, took a piece of the leather and went on its way. All the while though, Lenore couldn’t help but internally lecture on the inefficiencies of petulance. Such a lecture though, would be inefficient since likely it would never need that little paranoid nuit in the corner. The nuit in the corner couldn’t succeed in Sahova even Lenore knew that. It still struggled with the society. To make connections lay against its character, quiet contemplation always came to Lenore’s aid.

Returning to the table, Lenore made quick work of the final organ. Drilling a small hole in the end of the wrist for sounds to enter, it then nailed a small square of cut leather over it. To hide the nails for aesthetic purposes Lenore pulled a candle off its mount and poured the hot wax around the edge off the leather, smoothing it with the edge of the carving knife as it went; like a letter seal.

Grinning in satisfaction, Lenore inspected the results of its workmanship. The entire vessel was complete if not nearly as polished as more skilled works it would serve. Now for the only part of the process that could actually weary the Nuit.

[Lenore]

Even the thinning population of works persisting through the night might be too disruptive to the delicate workings of animation, so Lenore cradled the wooded hand in its arms and pilfered a piece of chalk away into its belt pouch. In moments, counting fewer than a passing count heartbeats of a pulser, the unliving researcher made strode from the laboratories to the quarters, skirting gently the courtyard. Though not so unrelated to nuits, ghosts still inspired caution in Lenore. The creatures reminded Lenore of the soul cores within animatons and dwelling too much on the subject might inspire philosophy. Long since passed were the days when Lenore condemned the study of philosophy to the realm of the living. What was right and what was wrong mattered little in the potentially endless flow of time that the Nuit could inhabit, it was what succeeded and wait failed that mattered. Lenore was ultimately a scientist, efficiency and results were paramount. Believing fully in the superiority of the Nuit psychology didn’t hinder this point of view.

Shuffling through the corridors of the quarter eventually elicited a vacant room, though the door was decidedly lacking in a lock. It would suffice. Lenore deposited the hand and a piece of rolled parchment which had a previously prepared writing sample on to the bed pallet. Moving the meager adornments of the chamber it cleared the greatest space possible and set to work. Two circles, one small for the hand and one great for the magus. A braid woven in white chalk connected the two, not conventional but it made Lenore feel grounded. The circles themselves were simple it was when it moved on to glyphing that it slowed.

Lenore’s glyphs were inexpert, ever changing to maintain its intended meaning the nuit kept the fluidity true to what felt correct. It was the most inexact portion of the process in where the Nuit wondered closer to art than science. Around the greater circle the glyphs mirrored collection, dominance, and parent. The smaller circle ringed with different meaning, obedience, dexterity, and a glyph that Lenore felt meant the word. Each glyph held no magical potency but helped as foci for the animator’s mind.

Taking a deep breath Lenore looked over the animation circles, it would do. Though daunted by the magic to come, the potential for failure held in every working of magic; for the end of Lenore’s unending life by its very own creation made. The nuit paused in reverence for the briefest moment. Still undeterred, it arranged the hand within the small circle and seated itself in the greater. It grinned, some force within its being pushing it forward for the thrill of creation, moving towards inevitable greatness or inevitable end to eternity. The razor edge of the game was one of the few things that brought excitement the old soul.

Digging its jagged, dirty nails into ink stained palms the palm dripped sluggish foul vitality into the circle. Within the closing of its lids the world hurtled into darkness, ancient mind focusing on new birth. Slowing drawing from within itself Lenore held all that it meant to be within its mind. Running over the smooth wood mentally, caressing the body that would be the new creature’s essence vessel with its own djed, the Nuit defined what it would mean to be alive from its own being. Fostering potential like a mother from its own being, Lenore slid this idea into the formed hand seeping through the joints of organs perforating its bodily form. To be, to know, to live, to achieve were the concepts the animator injected into the soul core, creating limitless potential yet untapped by direction.

[Lenore]

Where the simple ended the maze of mentality began. To be was nebulous and instinctual, it was the laws that bound life that Lenore now focused upon. In its mind turning over the glyph it had drawn for obedience. To me you shall be obedient. To be obedient is to comply to my commands to the utmost without any other beings commands superseding mine. My commands are to be taken as absolute truth. This is your primary directive. Truth is the irrefutable

You will know me by the sound of my voice, I wil always address you first as 'Scribbler', Your secondary directive is to ascertain it is me commanding you Only with this authentication will you perform commands, Lenore drew upon itself; its very bodily make-up the knowledge of centuries of life and the uncertainty of events to come and reaching out with a tendril no greater than a thread of silk sought the infantile life force in the adjoining circle. Withdrawing its probing touch the nuit felt the soul core’s shudder accepting the second directive. Like a shiver breathing new life up the undead’s spine of an old memory of being alive.

Your final directive is thus. When a command is proceeded by the signifier ‘Write’ all that follows will be written. To write is to make distinctive patterns with quill, ink, chalk, or coal upon a surface. Lenore opened its eyes. The soul core and directives were accepted. The magus wanted to reach out and grasp its creation to feel the grain and hold the tiny life, a representation of its power but it was yet too soon. Too close to illogical, the magic was intoxicating the nuit’s mind in a body incapable of imbibing. Tearing itself from the promise of power of life and death, Lenore refocused on its project.

Flexing each joint individually in its hand, it began to teach. Bending each joint to the furthest natural extension the body allowed. This is your form, it moves like this the nuit lectured, rotating the wrist to its fullest. You have the ability to balance like this , holding its wrist like it was writing, Lenore recalled multiple instances of balancing on the edge of its palm to stabilize and facilitate writing. After balance and each joint was tutored to the creation it was time for perception. The nuit recalled listening and outlined the leather membrane it had made for the automaton. To hear the sounds of the world. This was how it would receive the majority of commands.

Lenore reached for the rolled parchment and unsealed it revealing the writing sample. With the visual guide the nuit began to mentally picture writing each letter, after each letter was drawn internally it provided the name, this is called ‘A’ when it is dictated you will write this pattern on the parchment. In this fashion the nuit taught the construct how to write, not to synthesize information or even write full words that weren’t spelled out, but all the same it was an accomplishment for an untried animator. Along with the letters, the creation was taught each number one through nine and when the word ‘space’ was dictated it would leave a blank space in the parchment precisely the width of its smallest fingertip. There was little intelligence in the action but such automatons were far beyond Lenore’s skill, with any stroke of fate the judges would find the creation adequate or at least inspired enough to allow the nuit to become an apprentice.

Only one step remained, the moment when success or failure was clear. The Awakening.

[Lenore]

Slowly the world came back into focus for the nuit. So intent had it been that if even the loudest stalker had stumbled upon Lenore there would have been no recourse, the nuit would have gone undefended into final death. Anticipation sung with anxiety as the mage observed the nearly alive puppet hand across from it. A headache born of fatigue seared through its mind, after this step Lenore would rest. It had focused far too long and too singularly as a cause it was psychically drained. Still, its nature drove it on to know the outcome of its days trespasses.

With a deep breath the nuit closed its eyes once more, though not nearly as far retreated into its mind as before, it sought the core of its being. The essence that kept Lenore alive and the same as it changed bodies through the centuries that always recalled the poor slave boy whose name Lenore purposefully forgot. The essence that experienced terror at the radically change of the world and the soul that allowed it to be malleable enough to adapt. All of it was Lenore the slave, the carver, the animator, the puppet maker. Reaching out to its creation, through the pounding headache the nuit’s internal voice command in thunderous tone, a voice not so different from Lenore’s once master the epitome of authority to the researcher, Activate

In this introspective state the nuit felt it, the jolt of recognition of life, of sentience, as it struck the construct. So when Lenore let go of the magic it hardly dared to say it commanded and stared at the hand there was no surprise. Even though the puppet failed to move, Lenore knew it to be awake and waiting its first command. A myriad of poor word choices could destroy this tenuous creature’s life but so long as it performed in the judgment, it would be a success.

Lenore lifted the puppet from the ground and destroyed the chalk animation circle with the toe of its worn boots. The animation shuddered in the mage’s hands and to the nuit it felt like an omen. What remained to be seen was whether the omen predicated greatness or downfall.

[Mirage]

Character

Experience

• Carving: 2
• Glyphing: 1
• Gadgeteering: 2
• Animation: 2

Lore

• Animation: Establishing Directives
• Gadgeteering: Crafting Golem 'Ears'

Nothing but a Mirage

Congrats! Good job! You may add one animated hand to your CS ^.^. Now then while I really liked this thread, the actual crafting section of this thread was severely lacking. I had a very hard time imagining exactly what it was you were making, so in the future I would ask for more details be given on exactly what she is trying to do, specific step by step process of it, and her thought process as she figures out exactly how she will have to craft the golem so that it will work. Since this is your first thread I decided to let it slide for now, but next time please include more details so that I can really tell what is happening and what exactly is being made . I need to be able to picture it! >.>. I suggest trying to use some visuals as well. Players in the past have done amazing jobs when they used pictures to kind fo express what it is they are getting across in their writings. I am happy to assist you as well

The golem is fully functional, however, it does not always draw exactly what it is directed to draw. From time to time it will only draw half of what it is supposed to, or it skips over a detail of it like there is a moment where it actually forgets a little what it is it is supposed to be drawing. Times like these often involve a pause of several ticks.

Hope you enjoy!

Question your Reality,
Mirage