Closed Animating the Future (Pand)

[Ink]

oocShort post to get this going. Please Timestamp your post, the date doesn't particularly matter.
“Pandaemus get yer lazy sack o’ bones over here.” Cid was leaning against a wall next to a chair which was in the steady process of aging beyond usefulness. “Sit yer arse down.” The old man looked oddly tense, like he was almost bothered but couldn’t gather enough gumption to actually care. “Now, ye’ve been about here awhile and that’s better than most manage. But ya ain’t really shown a whole lot er advancement, and the nuits upstairs don’t like that.” The prematurely aging animator muttered, “Don’t ever be forgettin’ they’re training ye fer their purposes not yers. So show ‘em yer purpose fits theirs." Cid rolled his shoulders to ease his sadly diminished muscles, “So Ah’m shippin ye off fer a day. No work here but ye will visit the Elevent floor o' the caverns, there’s a Nuit there that looks like er grandpop, he’ll help ye but he ain’t yer friend. Don’t forget that, Ah mean it.” Her grumped off without another word back to his work.

This left the future entirely up to Pandaemus. He had an entire day off of work and no specific time at which he needed to meet this other nuit. Around him the lab continued churning constantly improving the previously thought unimprovable, it was the nature of the animators not just to make like but to make it better. Apparently Pandaemus was no exception and the lab had noticed where he might be improved as well.

[Pandaemus]

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12th Day of Summer in the 514th Year After the Valterrain
Randjaqabase

Pan was not sure if he was excited or perturbed that Cid had paid him specific attention. It had not been the same specific attention he was used to either, ordering him to animate something or else complaining at him about some unsatisfactory work or another. The old wizard had sidled up to his workplace and started barking at Pan about what he had gleaned was extra training. Pan wasn’t sure, but he thought there had even been a begrudging compliment in there about his longevity in Lab 15. In the end of his coarse rant, Cid had ordered Pan to go up to level eleven of the Caverns. Pan had passed the illuminated number 11 on his way to and from Randjaqabase often, but had found no need to explore the other levels that constituted the shadowed depths of Sahovas’ research labs.

As was often his way, the dusty old wizard had tottered off on some other business before Pan could ask any questions. He gazed after Cid with a mixture of bemusement and confusion. What was going on? He was supposed to stop working now? Pan walked back to his desk and sat still for a long while, Cid had never shown any interest in him before. Had some wizard or other found Pan’s animation pleasing in some way? No matter what had caused this sudden awareness on Cid’s part, Pan would not let it go to waste. Pan was not too proud to snap at a chance to grovel for success at his master’s feet. Besides, what else was he going to do?

Pan set the quill he was holding down carefully, leaning it against the inkwell placed near his candle. The black tip of the feather dripped slowly in the ink, creating momentary ripples before the dark liquid stilled again. The apprentice stood, now that he had made the decision to go he felt a long absent thrill of excitement began to swell inside him. Such mundane things as the prospect of visiting a new part of the Citadel now filled him with a thrill. The undead teen had been in Lab 15 far too long.

Pan made the climb to the second level, where the pulser apprentices slept when they needed it. The Nuit found the sight of them all breathing in their sleep slightly disturbing. He did not work with any pulsers on a regular basis, and the sight of someone breathing was a bit unsettling. It reminded him all too vividly that he himself did not breath. He was meant for the dark depths that housed Randjaqabase…

The Nuit apprentice climbed out into the dark caverns and his eyes fell on the familiar glowing number fifteen directly outside the entrance. He moved through the caverns with the practiced care of someone who worked regularly in the deepest levels of the Gug Adjak and the Caverns under it. Though it was nearly impossible to see down there, the Sahovan Wizards had placed signs and arrows that glowed magically so as to point the direction. Pan had learned early on to trust the arrows, otherwise he would never get to or from Randjaqabase. Pan climbed through the caverns, most of it familiar from his semi-frequent trips to the higher levels of the Citadel. But once he found himself in front of a spiky number eleven he felt that thrill again.

Pan followed the arrows into the depths of the eleventh floor of the Caverns, wandering for many minutes before he saw anything of note…
 

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[Ink]

Much of floor Eleven felt unoccupied, and most nuit would say it was. The difference between truth and perception should never be forgotten, for at least this day there was an occupant. Upon a small boulder leaned a nuit within the vessel of wizened gentlemen. His carriage was erect and his black robes fell perfectly in a nonchalant way. There were fine tufts of white hair circling his crown but certainly kept under control in a fashionable manner. He looked like nothing more an old rich grandfather and though he made a habit of breathing and blinking regularly his shadowed gaze and blackened mouth gave away the truth behind the perception; he was nuit.

Turning to Pandaemus the elderly nuit smiled congenially. “Good Day, you must be Apprentice Pandaemus? I am Rubik, I am a professor, and I've been told some about you. Do you know why you were sent to me today?” As he gave the Apprentice his first look over his eyes took on an eerie intensity that faded quickly, it could perhaps be a quick of undeath, regardless his smile remained.

A strangeness would make itself known to Pandaemus right about now, not only was this floor of cavern empty of laboratories but people. Even though eleven should have been reserved for some dangerous laboratory like the Sanctum or the Randjaqabase, it was barren but for Pandaemus and Rubik.

Another oddity, like a fondly recalled summer breeze an idea tickled at the back of Pandaemus’s mind, he could speak freely with this grandfatherly nuit. The idea was less than a whisper but consistent, like there was a rightness to the thought that seemed to set logic adrift, gently buoying away into the ocean. The Zeltivan’s could use the logic. “Please let us discuss in confidence, we are as alone in this moment as you can ever be on Sahova. I am told you are an animation apprentice, when you are relinquished from your master’s projects, what mark will you leave on history? Will you make body modifications like Cid? Or would you tends towards the more offensive golems like the nuit who share his lab?”

[Pandaemus]

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Pan was surprised to find that he would not be greeted by the sight of diligent wizards moving in the eternal grind of the scholar. In truth, the shaded cavern, dark like a midnight fog, seemed to defy the practical utility of the tomb-city. He felt the familiar reins of fear settle on his shoulders, the bit silencing his black tongue from thought of speech. The Nuit walked amongst the darkness and shadow with not even the beat of his deadened heart to stand sentinel against the pressing weight of silence. His naive mind had led him to believe himself stoic in the face of deathly darkness, but the clarity of his situation shown through even this dark place. Sahova was not an instruction in dealing with the darkness, but only a protecting patron, shielding him from it even now. Even now his feet set one in front of the other, a mimicry of life, a dodging of Dira’s domain.

Eventually, either a moment or an eternity later, there was no difference in a corpses recollecting, Pan found himself wandering into the presence of a slim beacon that became a lit cavern of modest size. Low dark walls and more of the familiar warmth of torchlight held fast by iron sconces gave relief to the singular figure of the room. Pandaemus did not doubt it was the single occupant of this most esoteric of places.

Antiquity was a common enough trait amongst the undead population of Sahova’s most ancient of fortresses. This Nuit, however, seemed not to be hindered so much by his undeath as advanced in his lot. He was kept well, maintained by a rare physical diligence that most wizards dropped by the wayside on their journey to academic excellence. Oddest of all details, the Nuit seemed to breath and blink as if he needed such mechanisms to function. Pan was woeful to give up his humanity to the cold corpse life of the Nuit, but even he had long ago stopped paying mind to his lungs. This was indeed an odd Nuit.

The other smiled, a good natured thing as warm as it was foreign in this sea-side hold. He greeted Pandaemus, identifying himself as Rubik and going further still to show he knew Pan’s identity as well. This was, of course, not surprising if Cid had arranged a meeting here. The apprentice’s mind drifted to wonder if the man called Rubik had come here to meet him, or simply resided in this darkness permanently, alone. He felt as though they were alone here, though he possessed no powers of premonition nor had explored the entire cavern. The feeling was as sure as fact for the apprentice.

“Good day, Master Rubik. I am sorry if I have kept you waiting.” Pandaemus could observe the niceties, especially if Rubik himself was going to. He responded first to the other’s greeting with an ill remembered politeness he could not recollect learning. Then paused. He did not know why he was sent to Rubik, really. Cid had hinted at becoming useful, but that answer would still leave Pan wanting more of an explanation, which was part of why he had made the climb to Cavern Eleven.

“No.” He finally said, careful to emphasize the single word with all the curiosity he could muster without stooping to begging for answers from the Nuit. The Nuit need not worry though, he had a feeling this Rubik could be trusted. This was a patriarch of Sahova, an elder mentor to learn from. “Please let us discuss in confidence, we are as alone in this moment as you can ever be on Sahova. I am told you are an animation apprentice, when you are relinquished from your master’s projects, what mark will you leave on history? Will you make body modifications like Cid? Or would you tends towards the more offensive golems like the nuit who share his lab?” The more archaic Nuit queried.

The deep, probing question punctured through his mind like an anchor dropping through the liquid depths of the Suvan. Pandaemus had hardly thought of the details of his success, but simply contented himself with images of a hazy silhouette of it. A feeling of satisfaction and worth that would come along with the thing, rather than the actuality of it. What mark would he leave on history? The apprentice stared at the professor with dead eyes. A year of Sahova and he could not voice response to such a simple inquiry?

“Truthfully, I do not know. I would like to explore the deeper nuances of animation.” Pandaemus intoned weakly. He could not meet the other’s gaze for a long time. “I am not sure what, but I think I would-“ He stopped, his voice running out. The inky blackness of his tongue pushed past dark lips in a nervous tick. “I think I would like to create golems of higher sentience, whether combative or… or anything really. I want to explore what makes a soul a soul, and then craft…them.” Pan’s words finished lamely. He had left a lot unsaid, not on account of some sinister distrust of Rubik, but a much more disappointing lack of self-awareness. Pan watched the older figure for a reaction.

 

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[Ink]

“Soul?” The nuit smiled, “That is a lofty thing, I am not an animator but I have heard a number of tales in my years. Of golems of great intellect, nearly life-like some tellings go, that tried to find a soul. I have never heard of an animator giving a true soul to a golem though, that would be extraordinary and beyond the pale.” Some might have sounded incredulous at this idea but instead Rubick sounded as though he thought the feat admirable and plausible.

His body language was such that he held himself open to Pandaemus like a good-friend from centuries past. A peculiar nuit for certain. “Please do not call me Master, Rubik is more than sufficient. Though I am a teacher I am no one’s Master, but those who find it necessary call me Boss Rubik.”

A darker thought struck the nuit, but he would not be the first to propose it, it was one of the few ways in which magic could not be used upon Sahova. Animation was a dangerous thing even here. “Animation may give life to those lacking it, but it has the potential to send the essence of life through a metamorphosis. We, the Nuits, are an example of this. That potential can be scary. Changing the whole of a truth as we know it is not a comfortable concept for the ancient beings upon this island.”

“But let us talk more about souls. If it is the essential and ephemeral essence of living that so interests you, are you also a spiritist?” A thought had dawned upon the elderly nuit, but before that could be addressed he needed to understand if Pandaemus merely meant spiritism or animating true souls within their host bodies such as the Daek-nuit. Indeed, Cid may have sent Pandaemus to the perfect wizard to assist him for better or worse. “What angle would you take to work with souls? Or do you intend to solely use animation?” The nuit made a polite joke.

[Pandaemus]

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So the elder Nuit was not an animator and no one’s master? This intrigued the apprentice mores than the Nuit’s peculiar personality. What had Cid been thinking sending Pan to the old man? What was the purpose of this ‘training’? Boss Rubik had, so far, only asked questions of Pandaemus. Questions of a personal nature. The young animator was not accustomed to people inquiring into his own personal opinions or goals. Perhaps that lack of attention was the reason Pandaemus could barely come up with answers for the older Nuit.

“I know it is a a very long and arduous road to mastering the higher principles of animation, but I believe that they can unlock new boundaries.” Pan said in response to Rubik’s talk of the soul. He truly wanted to move past the simplicity of such beings at the Witness golem or his own personal golem and onto truly great works. With half a mind, the right construct could achieve so much. So much for Sahova, for Pandaemus.

Rubik’s next words seemed to have the flavor of a warning as he told of metamorphosis and its uncomfortable nature with the ancient Sahovan Wizards. Pan let his concern show on his pale face. “I understand that exploring the nature of our existence is intimidating to some, but perhaps it could allow for a more complete understanding of the process. I would very much like to understand just how thorough an animator has to be to actually transfer a real soul from one shell to another. Think about the potential that knowledge comes with.” Pan stared down at his hands. “Perhaps we would not be bound to such frail forms?”

The apprentice walked past Rubik and stared off into the darkness momentarily. He turned as the Boss began to speak again. “But let us talk more about souls. If it is the essential and ephemeral essence of living that so interests you, are you also a spiritist?”

Pandaemus shook his head. “No. No I have never learned the art. Truth be told, I know very little of it.” Pandaemus gave out the information a bit begrudgingly. He hated admitting ignorance on any subject, least of all magical ones. “I meant the soul in a more academic sense. I dream of ways to craft such a thorough Life Principle that it has the ability to grow as a soulcore.” He glanced at Rubik, not sure if the Nuit had understood. Most non animators would not have. “I mean a Life Principle that can learn and experience in the same way a sentient being can.” Pan tried to clarify. “Spiritism is good for understanding the soul, I suppose. I have not, as I’ve said, experienced the art. Why do you ask?”
 

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[Ink]

His smile warmed even farther if possible. “You misunderstand me Pandaemus. It is not the exploration of a Nuit’s nature which scares those set in their ways its the mutable potential. Even Nuits who have been alive for centuries still find new ways to manipulate magic, what if we are not any different? Potential is one of the true sources of terror in this world.” He trailed off, clearly the thought was darker than he intended since he shrugged his old shoulders and moved on.

“Aw, intellect. You wish to pursue intellect?” The elderly nuit seemed somewhat deflated. “Intelligence is an admirable trait in a golem, or so the Sahovans believed until the betrayal. Now it is a touchy subject, but that does not mean intelligent golems do not exist. They are here and there.” At the word there Rubik glanced at the stairs downward and a hypnotic tickle trickled through Pandaemus’s brain again, there

“As for spiritism, well it is a way to work with souls. It seemed a logical conclusion until you explained further. It seems to me though that souls are not your goal at all.” Rubik turned from the Nuit, “You should speak to Cid of intelligent golems, he might know more than you would guess. There are many places you could find the knowledge you seek to expand upon. The Library or your Master could both facilitate this, but you are here with me instead. Your environment makes all the difference.”

Leaning forward upon his staff the grandfatherly Nuit scrutinized Pandaemus with more cunning than kindness. “From me you could receive a different avenue of help, if you are willing?” Unlike before there was no suggestion within his phrasing. This decision hinged solely on Pandaemus and it could very well be a divergence from his mundane wizarding path or a return to his place in the machinations. There was no saying where a choice here might take him though, and that was another type of potential.

[Pandaemus]

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That does not mean intelligent golems do not exist.

The sentence sent a tingle of curiosity through the Nuit apprentice’s deadened spine. What manner of construct was this man spea-

There.

Pan’s thought process crumbled to a halt in the kind of sudden moment of clarity where one almost jumps in jubilation and scrambles to retain their flash of discovery in their mind. Rubik, the kind seeming bearer of so much wisdom knew exactly where these intelligent golems were, and Pan could venture a guess as well. He peered off into the direction Rubik had glanced oh so subtly when saying the sentence. Pan was almost immediately enwrapped in curiosity now. What exactly was this Rubik?

Trust was not something Pandaemus invested in others. He knew how untrustworthy he was, and expected no better from anyone else. But something about Rubik made him want to go with his gut intuition. The Nuit was offering to help him achieve his goals! This was opportunity presenting its throat for his knife. Rubik made his statements about the Library and Cid’s tutelage, but they seemed a precursor to the statement their entire meeting hung on.

“From me you could receive a different Avenue of help, if you are willing?” Rubik intoned, his voice laden with unspoken promise. It burned at Pan’s curiosity.

The apprentice’s cautious nature battled an instinct for ambition. He had never met the wizard before, but here he was. Rubik offered a promise of aid in his own goals, with not a mention of cost. His wisdom was apparent, Pan could feel it in his words. Pan glanced back at the stair Rubik had let his eyes flicker to momentarily.

Pan had been on the island for nearly a year now, and it was high time he made some headway. With a wildly excitement and sour taste of apprehension, Pan made his decision. Too long had he been animating simple constructs for Cid. Grinding over busy work at his desk. Remagicking old, degraded golems for the same mundane purposes.

I will find my greatness!

“I am.” The words tumbled out of him clearly and seemed to ring of a bonding contract, their boldness a stark contrast to the silence that had befallen the cavern. He and Rubik stood in conference, with only the darkest shadows of Sahova as witness. “Now tell me, what help do you offer?”

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[Ink]

Rubik nodded, “It’s only neighborly to help when someone requires it, don’t you agree Pandaemus?” Using his staff like a walking stick the Nuit turned and walked further down the cavern that was level eleven. At what seemed an arbitrary spot he pushed back a grey wooden door meant to mimic the wall. “Follow closely.”

The room beyond the threshold was a phantasmal antechamber. A few silent, shrouded individuals moved about the room straightening the seemingly perfect curtains. Rubik did not pause here, he moved around the perimeter of the chamber on a platform raised above the crimson lake beneath them. This place was known as the Tear’s of Uldr though no one offered the name to Pandaemus as they passed. He took the young nuit through the back door at the far end of the room; this was the ceremonial chamber. Some days this room was lavishly draped in cloth, today it was bare in preparation for another scarlet layer. Neither of these events were why Rubik brought Pandaemus here.

As Rubik entered the shrouded figures made themselves scarce, retreating back into the antechamber. Rubik settled upon a pew and after a moment of reverent silence for the stone altar dominating the room he turned back to Pandaemus. “Intelligence in animated beings is not a new concept, neither is intelligence in the undead. If you wish to speak to an intelligent one you will find they are considerably more plentiful that you appear to believe. I believe, what you seek though is those that can actively use their intelligence to learn like the sentient races do. That is indeed rare, especially so now. The Archwizard is beyond the farthest imagined reaches of an apprentice though he could most easily answer your inquiries, and you have chosen against the animators who might academically aid you. No you choose to accept the help of a Priest. That is the only help I have to give you.” He fell silent again, his eyes lit upon the altar like the flame on a torch. “A priest hears a great many things, you see. I have heard whispers of golems which believe themselves truly alive. I have need of an agent to substantiate these hushed rumors and I think you may be the man to do it, Pandaemus.”

[Pandaemus]

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Pandaemus moved into the new, secret chamber with a wariness that should have been more crippling to him. He did not like strangers in secret strange places. Such scenarios were usually damaging to the protagonist who was, of course, him in this particular story. Boss Rubik seemed to be an amiable and trustworthy sort, but now Pandaemus knew the man wanted something from him. Usually, trustworthiness was not a common assessment that Pan made of strangers, but Rubik seemed to defy his cautious analysis. That did not mean the contents of this new secret chamber did.

“I must confess I had not sought the answers down divine path, or at least, not my answers.” Pandaemus’ nerves began to tickle at his mind at this. His mind flashed to the thought of Uldr, of late nights spent hunched over grisly rituals with his old master. The evil that had haunted his shadow for so long did not let him believe his statement. Thanadoros had pursued just what Boss Rubik was hinting at, as far as Pandaemus could tell. From his understanding, Uldr did not discriminate against liars.

When Rubik made his proposition of employment a silence hung in the air between them. Pandaemus could almost feel the older Nuit watching his thought process. “I have already consigned myself to your service, or else I doubt I would have ever seen the inside of this place. A Priest on Sahova, unknown and hiding could only mean-“ Pandaemus let his voice flutter out. Fear slid it’s ugly visage across his face now, unimpeded. Pandaemus was not sure, could not be sure, but he feared that he had once again walked into his God’s embrace. Suddenly, the apprentice could not meet Rubik’s gaze, and instead turned to the altar, stepping up to it and away from the seated Rubik.

“Di…Did you know of my…” Pan searched painfully for the word “religion upon inviting me here? Or is this just Ovek’s touch?” The answer Rubik gave would not affect his next actions. Pan reached a shaking hand out and almost let it fall on the cold stone of the altar.

Pandaemus turned back to the priest finally. The stale air within the chamber was still and the two nuits were the only things in the room to move now that the other shady figures had stepped out. “I have no strong allegiance towards anyone in Lab 15, so what you propose is…quite possible. If you are not an animator, though, what purpose would you have with such knowledge.” Pandaemus was fearful of the place they stood in. He could feel what it was. The gods were not a group he wished to become acquainted with, especially in a negative way. His fear of whatever divine power resided in the cavern, and he thought he had a sneaking suspicion of that identity, kept him from giving voice to the obvious second part of his question.

And how could a priest possibly aid an animator like himself?

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