Clockwork [IC]

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Absyinthe, Dec 12, 2015.


  1. A light laps at the edge of your conscience as the darkness is lifted from your eyes. You appear to be in a workshop of sorts, cogs and steam engines are strewn about the benches. As you take a closer look you see a masculine looking woman with medium length ringlets wiping her burly hands on the front of her apron. She notices you suddenly and walks towards you. The woman begins to speak in a soothing tone.

    "There was nothing but a vast silent void before you came here. Your memories of who you once were are fleeting and few. Please understand, every person who comes to Calces, has a purpose," She paused then for a moment, "This place is not a purgatory, by any stretch of the imagination. No, it's place among the many dimensions which make up this universe is one of enlightenment. Forgive me, I have not properly introduced myself yet, my name is Judeth Harbourne, I am the Master Clock-Maker in our continent of Calces. You see, I craft magnificent vessels just for the new souls, like all of you. I suppose you have noticed how translucent you appear, eh? Well, I can fix that right up!"

    Judeth began to search about in a satchel off to the left before speaking once more, "Now, in my recent travels, I have collected and repaired fifteen specimens for you to choose from. I have a variety of hearts to embue your soul matter into, than we can move onto putting that heart into a clockwork body of my design!" She than grabbed up the satchel and hurried towards the group of souls.
    "Please, pick your heart, it will decide what life you will receive in the world of clockwork." She holds out the bag for you to take a heart.

    #1 Absyinthe, Dec 12, 2015
    Last edited: Dec 18, 2015
  2. Ah. What was this?

    Metal oddities filled Aesil’s vision, and steam clouded over the ceiling. In the distance, clanging could be heard, not that of smiths hammering iron bars, but something more…inhuman. What she saw was utterly alien, but at the same time, it teased her curiousity, and she drank it all in, committing it to memory.

    The woman, Madame Harbourne, was similarly alien, too muscular and dark-skinned to be considered a lady fit for marriage. But her voice was nice and smooth, and, in this situation, Aesil didn’t have to look the other way and pretend that the curly-haired woman was some unsophisticated common trash. None of what she said made sense, and the mystery of it all incited Aesil’s imagination. She wanted to learn more, to see all there was about this place. After all, dreams were strange and wonderful landscapes. It was best to have fun with it until she woke up.

    Selecting one heart out of the many that she didn’t recognize, the young, translucent girl only realized a moment later that she couldn’t recall what she will wake up to.
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  3. Shiro found it odd, this world. It created many questions; so many that she couldn't help but create more and more questions, each more and more unanswered, or perhaps unanswerable, than the last. It felt like, what was it? It had a very nostalgic feel to it, but she couldn't place her mind on what exactly it reminded her of. She lifted her arm up, left, then right, turned her hands over slowly before her face, then dropped them beside her again. The word 'ghost' appeared to her, briefly. Then, a creature approached her. She couldn't tell exactly what it was - it seemed to be both a man and a woman at the same time, and it was giving a monologue about her situation, that didn't really throw any light on the matter at all. The word 'cutscene' ran through her mind, but she was unsure of its meaning.

    A bag was presented to her, and she found her field of view tilting to better see the contents of it. She reached out her hand partway, beginning to dig into the bag, when she hesitated briefly and the words 'character creation' followed by 'autosave' flashed before her. She resumed movement, and drew one of the items from the bag, subconsciously drawn a to a small, white one.
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  4. Ida tilted her head at Judeth's explanation of the world. None of it seemed to make sense to the girl, after all she was just a bit distracted by all of the cool-looking metal objects lying around all over the place. The only facts that Ida managed to catch were the name of the lady talking to her, the fact that this country is called Calces, and something about new souls.
    When Miss Harbourne mentioned being transparency, however, it was then that Ida noticed she could see through her hand, her mouth forming a small 'o' in fascination. While she was busy being distracted with trying to sort everything that was going on, she didn't pay attention to what the Master Clock-Maker was explaining. So when a bag suddenly appeared in front of her, filled with strange objects which Ida had never seen, she was a little surprised, but assumed that she had to choose one of these foreign artifacts. Taking a second to look, she picked what seemed to be the most simple and ordinary of the bunch, holding it in the palm of her hand and waiting for what would come next.​
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  5. It was like someone had dropped a bucket of cold water on Everard, and at the same time—not. There had been something before now, but it disappeared into this moment. There was a newness to all of this, an unfamiliarity. He snatched at his conscious thought but failed. Fine. He enjoyed living in the present, anyway.

    His attention was pulled by a woman. Everard was a sucker for pretty women, but she wasn’t quite that. She wasn’t ugly. The broad would definitely do in a pinch. Everard went to say something but found his voice lacking. He went to touch something but found he had no hands. He wanted to panic, and yet something felt right about this all. Purgatory. Calces. He knew what the first one was—the place between life and death. Everard wasn’t a learned man, but sometimes people made that correlation between it and where they lived. Wait. Where did he live?

    Everard shook his head or would have had he not been translucent. He focused back on the woman who approached them with a swinging gait. She held a bag out and asked him to choose one. Choose one what? Everard peered in. They were—hearts, sort of. While the stared, a few floated out of the bag. Everard hesitated. Was this magic? Wait. No. He was invisible, so why not others?

    Without any thought, Everard snatched one. It was green and angry. That suited him well enough, because he was losing his temper at all this cloak and dagger. He hoped the broad had answers.
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  6. The darkness faded from Larael's vision, the endless, tenebrous void of non-existence giving birth to that of light and consciousness. He awoke in a workshop that smelled of wood shavings and motor oil, this new world one that he had effectively been born into. His consciousness came back to him and he awoke, in a room of other individuals who, looking at his own body, shared a certain...translucency to their forms.

    He looked around as his eyes adjusted to being able to function, and gazed upon the one calling themselves Judeth. The Clockmaker of Calces, she called herself, explaining that she had repaired and crafted a heart for each of the translucent beings in front of her. He smiled, or he thought he did. He would be able to have a form, after whatever purgatorial non-existence he had escaped from.

    As they walked up to the bag of hearts, Larael conformed to the trend of his fellows and peered into the bag himself. He looked into the bag and saw hearts of every variety, but his eyes settled on one in particular, one of scales, magma and flames.

    He picked it up, and claimed it as his own.
  7. Waaaaaaait wait wait waitwaitwait.

    Wait, WHAT?!

    "What the hell...?" he tried saying. He... felt he said the words, but... Something was wrong. Something was off. There was a distinct lack of air not escaping his chest in order to make specific noises to sound these sounds of words he was... Wait, was he even mouthing them?!

    Oh, hell!

    He caught a voice then. The voice came from a woman, in a soothing voice. Hell, that was one HELL of a voice! He wanted to see her and-- oh, huh. Muscular and masculine, but hey, woman's a woman. She had an ass for miles and--

    "Judeth Harbourne... Master Clock-Maker..."

    What, Clocks? She wasn't a Doctor?

    That's when she made a point of how he was translucent.

    "Oh, hell! What are we talkin' here, lass, about hearts?! What do you mean, a clockwork body?" But as he asked, he was already reaching out, and finding-- or rather, gravitating-- towards his choice: Automaton.
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  8. Judeth Harbourne watched each new soul take their own heart. She waited until all of them had one before explaining further.
    "Ah, now that everyone has picked up their new heart, your soul has automatically attached itself to the matter that makes up each heart. Next, we'll need to put your heart and soul into its own clockwork body. Now, if you'd please gravitate in this direction…" She spoke gesturing off to the back of her workshop and towards a row of several pod enclosures. She moved her body to the closest pod and cranked open the hatch with a click, steam escaping the inside of the pod. She then turned towards the group and smiled eagerly.
    "These pods are of my own invention. The steam in which envelops the soul matter and the heart you have chosen will bind them both together forming the appearance and full working body that I assume you so desire. " She chuckled and folded her hands firmly across the front of her apron.
    "Now, each of you should grab a pod, and hold your heart close. It'll take a few minutes, but when the door reopens you will have a body that is to your liking." She then moved to each pod opening up all of their doors. She arrived at the last pod and opened it before turning to the new souls and gesturing towards the pods.
    "After you have your body, we will come have tea in my drawing room. There I will discuss why you are here, and what needs to be done for you to move forward with your new lives." She smiled happily and waited for them to make their moves.