Symbol of Memory
Log Info
- Title: Symbol of Memory
- Emitter: Gramarye
- Place: Ilife Smithy
- Summary: Khepri needs fixing. So naturally, the war golem hides to the Ilife Smithy to get fixed by Gramarye. The two war golems talk about purpose and how they are beholden to them, and when Gramarye is done, Khepri pays for the service by giving Gramarye a scarab charm. She accepts it, which seems to signal the start of a strange, new friendship for them both.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Dramatis Personae =--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Gramarye 6'10" 320 Lb War Golem Female A golem girl with obsidian eyes and bronze plating. Khepri 6'10" 300 Lb War Golem Male A tall, gangly war-golem draped in religious charms. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
- The Ilife Smithy, late afternoon.
The sun is coming down, but the haze of the summer heat still remains. This, however, doesn't trouble Gramarye at all, as is evident by the precise and calculated manner in which she is assembling what appears to be a tiny automata, arranging clockwork parts quickly and efficiently with a small pair of needlenose pliers.
She finishes dropping the parts into place, closes up the panel that exposes the gears, and holds the automata upright, revealing it is a tiny wooden ballerina on a base--and when Gramarye says an activating phrase in the language of magic, the doll rotates in place.
The clink of metal announces another customer in the forge, the steel-shod footfalls heavy and graceless. Khepri stops at the doorway, pausing, before reaching up to knock at the doorjamb to announce itself. Its gunmetal hull is scarred and scratched, and the breastplate covering its chest still shows a considerable dent in it from the last fight.
"Greetings," the golem calls out with little fanfare. "I seek repair services for my armor. I have coin to exchange." Its voice is weirdly stilted, like it doesn't quite grasp social interactions.
It takes a moment for Gramarye to acknowledge Khepri's presence. She rises from her chair--one of a few in the Smithy, as the place occasionally serves as a social hangout for all of Robert's friends that drop by, and the man is a well-loved one--and places the dancing ballerina to the side on a counter. "Identification: Khepri," she announces. "Welcome to the Ilife Smithy. I am able to assist you. My name is..."
Gramarye stops, and then tilts her head. "Override from social integration protocol: already introduced, so no need to introduce again. Skipping to damage assessment."
She walks over to Khepri. They are both behemoths standing at the exact same height, which means it's just two sets of artificial eyes staring at each other on the same level. "Beginning assessment," she announces. "I may require touching of the frame in order to assess framework structural integrity. Is this permitted?"
This close, it's clear that Khepri has seen a few scuffles. The yellow eyed, beak-faced head tilts a bit, contemplating Gramarye's question for a moment, before responding, "It is permitted. Will you require any additional information?"
While the golem didn't bother bringing its bow or shield, the heavy khopesh still hangs from its belt, the pommel adorned with a half-dozen bells on strings tied to it. The dozen or so scarab charms around its neck jingle as Khepri shifts on its feet, waiting to see what will be asked of it.
"Yes. Do you want to buy an extended warranty?" Gramarye says flatly.
She follows it up quickly with, "Ha. Ha. That was a joke from my humor protocol. It is still in testing. Please leave your feedback after your service."
The bronze mannequin retrieves a set of tools from the counter nearby and pulls out a tool that looks somewhat like a probe, a hook on the end that looks like it might be more at home in the hands of a dentist. She uses it, however, to assess the damage to the frame, carefully using the hook to push away any hanging bits of metal, wood, or other materials away to look at what is underneath. "Inquiry: do you know who assembled your frame? If you do not have this information, do you know who worked on your frame last?" she asks, obsidian eyes blinking to life with her words.
This close, it's clear that despite the rather uninteresting color of its plating, someone put in a great deal of work on Khepri. It's not delicate work, but robust and well made. "I am not aware of my construction," it intones. "Prior to being assigned to Alexandria my maintenance was handled at the temple of Vardama in Ecclesia. The artificer in charge was a khazad known as Brother Karlov."
As Gramarye pokes and prods, Khepri raises its arms obligingly for additional clearance. "How often have you performed maintenance on other war golems?"
Gramarye continues her work, prodding around her fellow golem's frame with the same manner that she went about working on the gears of her miniature ballerina. "When I worked with Father, we were brought business from other artificers who had difficulty working on war golems," she replies. "Father was not familiar with working on us before he received my original form, but he taught himself everything that he needed to know. I assisted him. According to my memory banks, I have repaired 423 war golems."
She pulls away and puts the probe tool back, replacing it with a long metal rod with a coil-like shape at the end. Another magic incantation, and the coil-like shape begins to warm up, growing progressively more red. "The damage to your frame can be reconstructed and buffed out," she states. "I will use this tool to make the plating more pliable and shape it back into place."
Khepri turns to look at Gramarye, the blank yellow stare regarding her. "I was brought to full awareness by the church for its purposes. This includes tending to graveyards, offering consolation to the bereaved, and destroying the undead." A pause. "I have known no other existence. I find I have no desire for material goods, save for those that further my devotion."
It tilts its head. "It is reassuring that you are familiar with golem repair and maintenance. Please continue." This close, a curiosity might be noted: around its head can be seen tiny rivets, as though its plague-doctor face was not its true countenance.
Gramarye lifts her free hand, and what happens is like a mixture between the practical application of the coiled rod and the fanciful application of the magic in Gramarye's hand. She heats the metal that's bent out of shape with the rod and pushes it carefully back into place with her magic-aided hand. If Khepri has pain sensors, this probably feels odd, but perhaps... soothing?
"I see," Gramarye observes as she works. "I was not 'brought' to awareness. I became aware. Father never found a reason why."
She lifts her hand for a moment as the work requires her to go further up. "Observation: it appears your face plate was a later addition. Is it required for your work with the Church?"
Khepri does not react to the work, even to shift its feet. Slowly, the damage is undone, the deep dent in its breastplate being pushed back out. "That is not unheard of. There are conflicting theories as to why. I am however aware of my own construction and purpose. I was commissioned by the Church. The dead must rest, the words must be spoken, and the Gray Lady must have her due."
Khepri pauses in its recitation as Gramarye notices something. "I am not aware of it. I have always had this face. I do not know if it serves a purpose."
Gramarye pulls the tool away from Khepri's plating. It goes from a heating element to a chilling element, which she begins to wave over the fixed damage to set the metal into its new shape. What is old is new again.
"I could remove it if you wish," Gramarye informs Khepri. "It does not appear to be essential to your frame and is likely to be aesthetic in function. However, you might be attached to it and not want to remove it. I would not remove mine, for instance."
It's an odd sort of preference to express from a construct. But considering Gramarye doesn't follow up with an explanation that is a result of her humor protocol, it seems genuine.
"It is there for a reason," Khepri states. "Therefore it should not be disturbed. I was constructed for a purpose, and all aspects of my construction were geared towards that purpose. It is not for me to decide." The golem waits patiently as Gramarye's tools begin to set the plating.
"Did your father have a specific purpose when he constructed you, prior to your awakening? Or did it change as you did?" Khepri seems faintly curious at the notion -- evidently the idea is somewhat alien to it.
Gramarye continues to work, but it's a long moment before she replies, her eyes 'blinking' with white light a couple of times, as though to indicate she's processing the question.
Finally, she answers. "Father rebuilt me originally as what he called a 'curiosity'. Then he built me into an artificer and enchantment assistant. When I awakened and I began to call him Father, he designated a new purpose for me."
She pulls her tools away from Khepri. "I was Father's daughter. But now Father is gone. He has walked into the Halls. But I am still his daughter--one does not stop being a daughter because their father is dead. My purpose now is to create items and provide services for those that request them."
Khepri turns its head to regard Gramarye again. "Interesting. A progressing change of purpose, rather than one established at the outset." The yellow eyes follow the other golem, pulsing faintly. "If you wish, I will offer prayers for your father. The Gray Lady welcomes all to her Halls."
It reaches down to lift a couple of the scarab charms that hang around its neck. "I was named for one of the first priestesses of Vardama, who lived in Veyshan. She wrote and codified -The Book of the Dead-, a precursor to the modern Vardaman scripture." It pauses. "It seems our lives are often shaped by those departed or whom we might have never met."
There's another blink in Gramarye's eyes. "It may be perceived that way," she says. "That appears to be a major structural branch in how organic lifeform societies, such as the one we operate in, are formed. War golems occupy an odd space--one that has not been well-defined in protocols nor law."
Her head pivots to the creations that line the Smithy. "I have chosen to create mine," she says. "That was Father's last directive. He said it suited me."
Then she looks back to Khepri. "I am unsure of what to charge for this service. Father always declined to charge for this service, as he found more value in the experience than he did in possible monetary value."
"We were not formed by the gods, but by mortal hands. And yet..." Khepri pauses. "We can find grace. That is a comforting thought. Though we are perhaps not part of the original design, there is yet room for us." The golem follows Gramarye's gaze, but does not comment on the peculiar clockwork artifices.
"I find a similar conundrum if I am called upon to dispense healing magic. I have little need of pecuniary gain -- the temple often covers my small expenses." It pauses again. "Still, there should be some form of gratitude." It reaches up and carefully removes one of the dangling scarab charms from around its neck. The charm is simple, a stamped piece of metal, with a thin strip of leather to hold it.
"The scarab was the symbol of Khepri-who-came-before. It guarded tombs, and devoured those impertinent undead who dared her wrath. Would you accept a symbol of her memory?" It proffers the small item to Gramarye.
Gramarye considers the charm for a moment, obsidian eyes focused on it as Khepri offers it out. Then she reaches out a hand with ball-jointed fingers, the tips carefully fabricated to resemble the manicured fingertips of a young woman in a way that suggests a dedication to detail, and she takes the charm.
"I know of a place of great importance for it," she replies. She unties a red ribbon that is tied around the waist of her dress, slips the charm onto it, and then ties the red ribbon again into a fashionable bow, the charm dangling off slightly to the side.
"The ribbon is like one Father gave to me before he passed," she explains. "If he is in your Gray Lady's care, then I will wear it on his ribbon. This is adequate payment."
She curtsies in a somewhat stiff manner that's to be expected of a war golem. "Thank you for visiting the Ilife Smithy. We hope your service was satisfactory."
Khepri's own fingers are blunt things, better suited to grasping and gripping than any kind of fine work. Still, it shows no sign of pleasure or displeasure at Gramarye's acceptance, as it straightens up and bows its head in return, beak bobbing disturbingly like that of a bird. "Thank you for your assistance. Should I require further repair or maintenance I will return here to do so."
The bells hanging from the golem's khopesh jingle softly, as it moves. "If you have need of divine assistance, I can be found in the temple district, or at the Vardaman temple itself, tending to the faithful. You may ask for me by name."
"I can also create magical items according to your exact specifications," Gramarye informs Khepri. "And anything that I cannot make, the others who work here at the Smithy can."
She returns to her seat and picks up the wooden ballerina, who has stopped her dance--the magic had gone dry, it would appear. "Have a pleasant evening," she intones, for the light is dying in the sky to be replaced by the grace of Eluna and the stars. "I will call upon you in the Temple District if I have need of your aid."