543/The Unicorn and the Clockmaker

The Unicorn and the Clockmaker
Date of Scene:	05 September 2014
Location:	The Central Valley
Synopsis:	A clockmaker and a unicorn meet under terrible circumstances, and a clash becomes inevitable.
Cast of Characters:	395, 546

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Nox (546) has posed:
    It's another section somewhere in the vast green expanses of the central valley. Miles and miles away from the first one a month ago, and yet the signs are all the same. A mass exodus of forest creatures and natural spirits, running ahead of an advancing wall of complete desolation expanding like the flame of a candle under a piece of paper. As the disaster area rapidly swells in size, the enormous, circular deadzone at its center grows with it, where not even the stumps of trees remain to punctuate the dunes of grey ash blowing over the lifeless earth. The dirt feels dry and scorched, and the bones of animals crunch underfoot every few paces. Even the clouds seem to want to give this area a wide berth, leaving a dark hole in the atmosphere above the steadily widening scar on the landscape.

    The culprits are extremely obvious. Hundreds upon thousands of tiny, bee-sized drones; buzzing away on metallic wings and letting off a cacaphony of electric whining and chittering noises. Wherever they land on something green, they plunge their steel stingers into it, and within moments, it withers and dies. Those at the edges of the forest, after hitting several trees in a row, return it a singular, door-sized portal floating at the epicenter of the affected area; abdomens glowing bright blue with some kind of harvested energy. The steady outpouring of empty drones to counter the influx of full ones indicates that they must be dropping their payload off and then returning.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    With the Fire Butterflies OUT of her manse, Ariel tucked into bed, Lila no longer being a pest and that shoggoth fended off, the old unicorn finds herself with something of a very quiet night. At first anyway. Perhaps she was pent up, or maybe just needed to go wandering for a bit, but Amalthea is not normally one to run night patrols. Tonight's different apparently; having thrown on her armor and gone for a brisk outing.
    Alternating between simply running and swapping to longer flight jumps, it's not long before the sight of what was once a lush green forest being rapidly reduced to ash and waste is something that does not go unnoticed. It takes her a second to parse the sight, too. Hovering in place and rubbing at her eye to confirm it, watching the panicked flight of animals and fae alike trying to escape the onrushing doom to their home.
    Boots touch down on the ashen wastes from within, opting to not put herself in the path of terrible feeding machinations sucking the land's very life away. Her pace quickens, a smooth hustle carrying the unicorn at a jog that would outpace most mortals as she spies just where the drones come and go from, making that her current destination of investigation.

Nox (546) has posed:
    The portal isn't much to look at. A shimmering, almost opaque screen of what appears to be rippling fluid, too brightly lit from behind to see anything inside of. Drawn in the shape of an oval, it'd be pretty easy for someone to just step inside of it given its size, even if it is a foot off the ground. The drones seem to pay Amalthea absolutely no mind, coming and going in such close proximity that the beetle-shaped machines are getting into her hair with every pass. A couple even land on her shoulders, scuttling about on pointy little legs and fixing her with singular, glowing eyes like tiny shutters. A bright flash indicates that one did actually just take a picture.

    "Oh look, if it isn't this again." A voice emenates from the portal, rather than the other side of it, causing its surface to ripple and vibrate. "I can't seem to go five minutes without some 'heroic' type sticking their nose in, can I? If you wouldn't mind madam, I am very busy at the moment, and really have no time to spare playing up the usual theatrics over the ethics of sustainable forestry. If you would turn around and leave right now, that would be for the best."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Where most would squeal and quail at the thought of the bug-like devices in their hair, so long as they leave her unmolested, Amalthea ignores them and presses on. It's not long at all until she stands before the portal, shield lashed to her arm, and giving a fairly dark scowl for the insect-like drone to relay back to its master. But the voice speaking to her and so casually telling her to shove her off only seems to deepen that already intense frown.
    While she may hate fae, there is simply no untruth in the fact that unicorns cannot abide such destruction, and one hand comes up to rap on the side of the portal as if knocking anyway. despite being brushed aside.
    "See if you had a license for this shit I'd be on my merry way, but I'm already guessing you don't, so I'll skip the theatrics and debating and just start swinging." She grunts back in reply and invites herself in. If that was five minutes, whoever this is must work frighteningly fast.

Nox (546) has posed:
    Well, to Amalthea's credit, that's the first time that's ever happened. Normally Nox has to drive people off by throwing a horde of machines at them, or on occasion, wait until the wreck them all before dragging himself out of his workshop to take care of them in person. Someone just /walking in/ is both incredibly surprising and probably unbelievably stupid. Unfortunately this also means he can't just drown her in cheap, disposable combat drones since the hangar doesn't directly connect to the repository.

    Wherever Amalthea is, it's definitely inside. The only light is coming from an enormous tank of some kind in the vague shape of a watch key, like the kind used to wind up a clock. The interior of it is swimming in luminescent blue fluid, which the drones seem to be depositing drop by drop by flying into some sort of contraption above it and back out the other side. A counter at the top rapidly scrolls as each one makes its round trip, already somewhere in the millions. The wavy, almost oceanic light casts very little into shape outside of the massive bronzed platform she is currently standing on, but in the far distance, she can see rhythmically moving shapes that echo the movements of complex clockwork. In fact, clockwork is most definitely a theme here, given the constant ticking and factory-like chugging reverberating around the chamber. A handful of other platforms are exchanged between spindly mechanical arms, up and down to other levels, where other portals are bringing in other streams of mechanical insects.

    Then Nox teleports right in front of her. A flurry of blue static and a fizzling little snap announce his arrival a split second prior as his image blurrs into existence. Despite the fact there is a perfectly good platform right there, he elects to stay floating a foot above it, looking down on the unicorn through his expressionless helmet. "I would say something about how rude it is to come into someone's home uninvited, but I'm not feeling up to the cliche lines tonight. If you have some kind of attachment to this useless patch of forest, please take it up with someone later. I've already told you I don't have time to play around today." Levelling the his hand at Amalthea, Nox condenses the fabric of local space into a rippling bubble in his palm, and then lets it go in such a way that the pulse should send her flying back out of the portal.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Perhaps not one of her better ideas, no.
    But if it spares Amalthea from the chaff of disposable foes then so be it. One hand rises to shield the unicorn's eye from the light of the great key, squinting at the shift in light levels and acclimating to them rapidly, loppy ears flitting from the chronic churning of springs and gears.
    From nowhere the sudden appearance of the Tick Tock Man himself right in front of her draws the unicorn's attention front row center, shield already half up and readied for defensive position, boots scuffling into a widened stance on her toes.
    "Wasn't much of one for pleasantries, but you can't fault me one thing." She mutters in reply. At least before the sudden pulse of a spatial distortion is flung at her. Before she can even continue, the old knight flings herself to one side, throwing herself in a tumble roll that rattles her armor and chain LOUDLY as she manages to get back onto hands and knees with a grunt of exertion, and then feet after a hustle.
    It's almost as though she produces the weapon from the very folds of her cape as she reaches in; drawing not the sword at her hip but the sleek figure of a submachinegun, which she raises to take aim, squeezing on the trigger with a loud DAT-DAT of a two round burst. "At least I knocked."

Nox (546) has posed:
    Oddly enough, that bit of sass gets a laugh out of the man in front of her, tinged with a hint of metallic reverb by the faceplate of the helmet. "Well, you're one of the less insipid miscreants I've had to deal with recently, I'll give you that." As Amalthea draws the PDW, Nox redirects his arm to face her with a strangely mechanical, slightly stuttering motion. She can actually hear the gears sticking for a second as his hand snaps towards her face, right before a semi-silent, percussive *whump* fills the air and a ripple of blue discolouration washes out from it. When her gun goes off, the flames from the muzzle flash suddenly take three full seconds to fully fade into smoke, and both bullets slow to an underwater crawl through the air. "But don't think I haven't learned the usual tricks from you types by now. Really, it's astonishing such an absurd weapon is enough to kill someone from other worlds."

    Rather than sitting in the path of Amalthea's bullets all day, Nox fizzles out again with another chirp of crackling electricity, appearing a significant distance up and back away from Amalthea, well off the platform and into the open air. The little pieces of lead immediately re-accelerate, disappearing off into the dark until they spark off a distant piece of machinery. "I hate to reiterate, but unfortunately, as expedient as it is to settle these matters myself, I just don't have the patience right now. If you would kindly roll over and die, that would be of great help to me." Blast shielding on the eyes of his mask comes down into the fascimile of an angry expression. It's strangely a little offputting. A pale disc of blueish light springs into existence over his left forearm, etched with the brighter patterns of roman numberals and turning gears. An aperture the same colour and intensity as the key in the background opens up his right palm, giving off a high pitched, magnetic whine, before discharging a flurry of cerulean bolts in quick succession. Each of them explodes like a small bomb; saturating the platform with a rattling wave of scorching explosions, leaving not an inch unscathed.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    With that hand aiming for her again, Amalthea knows not to stand still. He's already displayed some of what can be donw with it, and she's not inclined to stick around for the rest. But it's too late for her return fire, slowed to a crawl, she looks almost perplexed for just a second or so as the muzzle flash drags out far too long, before dying down and good sir Nox evades the bullets that are now flying at the pace of molasses, by fizzling to another section of the chamber.
    "I have my moments. But I'll pass on keeling over, I've got reasons to go home tonight." Amalthea grunts before shoving herself onto the move again. Boots clank on the platform as she hustles to strafe, the shrill whine of the jetpack on her back kicking up, but she doesn't aim to lift off. As the magnetic hum grows in intensity and the mechanical man's palm opens to unleash a fusillade of overly concussive fire, she skids along at jet speed, dropping to her knees in a rocket powered powerslide that takes her careening along.
    It's a snarl of surprise and fury that sounds off when one of the eruptive blasts catches up with her, flinging her head over heels to land on her chest in a crunching heap of armor and steel, before the REST of them start to bathe the platform. It's only at the last second that she leaps up, only barely escaping getting engulfed entirely by virtue of a SECOND jump in the air, boots slamming down on not a thing, with an explosion of sparkles and glitter that give her the breath she needs to reel her arm back...
    And huck her gun as hard as she can right at Nox.
    It's a diversionary tactic at best, but already she's hard pressed to do much better, right this second.

Nox (546) has posed:
    Nox follows Amalthea's movements with his steadily glowing stare, pausing for a moment's contemplation at the fact she had managed to avoid just about all of those shots. A stationary target on hard ground without cover should have been an ideal situation for explosive saturation fire, but she's definitely still alive. His palm begins to glow more brightly as he charges up something new; the swiftly rising hum echoing throughout the vast chamber. He is quickly interrupted by Amalthea throwing her gun at him, suddenly bracing back to present a smaller target and throwing his left arm out in front of him. The submachinegun handily bounces off the slowly rotating circle of energy floating just above his forearm like a shield, likely dropping somewhere into the abyss below.

    "Impressive movement abilities, but that was a little anticlimactic, don't you think? I was expecting it to explode personally." Having seen her doublejump once already, Nox refrains from firing again, assuming she'd be able to maneuver around it easily with nothing right next to her to explode on. Instead he teleports directly into her face with a flash of blue light, reappearing with his fist cocked back and immediately swinging a punch straight for her. If it wasn't clear already that his body is inorganic, it is made abundantly so by the force of a jackhammer coming out from that arm.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It wasn't the best use of her arsenal, but Amalthea does best with what she can. Unfortunately in this case it was not enough. The truth is she had been hoping that would have stalled him even for just a few seconds longer.
    She shouldn't be surprised when he warps right into her face. That doesn't stop the telltale scowl of getting caught before she can formulate better plan of attack from crossing her face when that lone blue eye suddenly gazes up into the skull-like plating of that mask.
    "Shit."
    The resounding clash of metal slamming metal sounds off when that fist connects solidly with the plating of her chest, drawing a hoarse choke of pain even from the mechanical mythic, body jerking from the impact slamming her like a Mack truck.
    "... Got me close to you, didn't it?" She does sputter back, one hand reaching to grab ahold of the Xelor himself instead of letting herself get slammed away by the blow. Where he went for the body, she goes right for the face, her own elbow reeling; doll jointed fingers curl into gauntlet-clad fist, which she swings her reprisal back as hard as she can; ignoring the fact that she's seeing red in a bad way from that punch alone, in order to simply try and slug him right back then and there with all the force of a kicking horse.

Nox (546) has posed:
    If there is an kind of expression of satisfaction from Nox after scoring that direct hit, it's impossible to tell. Only the eerie glow of those twin eyeholes fix on Amalthea as his fist slams into her chest. There is however, a faint noise of confusion as she grabs onto him; pulling him forward slightly with the momentum of his own punch. There also isn't enough time for any sort of witty retort before the return punch crashes into the face of his helmet. There is the sharp *snap* of cracking glass as the metal dents and one of the lenses fractures, eliciting a metallic snarl of anger from its owner. Amalthea will just have to imagine the dirty look she gets when he turns back to face her; juddering as though some mechanism had become stuck in his neck.

    Rather than subjecting himself to an undignified tussle for dominance, Nox teleports right out of Amalthea's grip; blipping back into existence directly behind her. There is another, subsonic thump as he casts fifth spell, unevenly accelerating the molecular vibration of the air around Amalthea with temporal manipulation. She can appreciate the science later, because the immediate effect is that the electrons predictably outstrip their bonds, and the surrounding atmosphere instantly ionizes; collapsing into an incandescent explosion of high voltage plasma, going off with a thunderous boom. "Hmph. Well played. You're less like the idiots and children I've had to deal with recently, but I sincerely doubt that will save you. Perhaps I'll fashion a new helmet out of your chassis? Ahahaha!"

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Though a metallic skull-like helmet makes for difficulty in expression reading, those blast-shield goggles are oddly expressive, when that fist slams Amalthea good and solid. But when she gets the satisfaction of her own reprisal it is short lived. When he teleports away, the unicorn is left hanging in the air for a beat before gravity reinstates its command over her body- something she chokes once again with another hop in the air to keep her balance but it's of little avail.
    It just means she remains in place good and stationary, like a sitting duck for the sudden plasma surge of explosive voltaic energies surging all around her- through her, and into her body, with blinding force and jarringly disorienting damage.
    Smoldering, she falls to the platform with all the dead weight of a rock in armor, landing with a harsh KRUMP of impact, and she lays there sizzling for a long few beats unmoving. Before the ratcheting clank of plates forcing themselves to move, and steam hissing in an angry venting spray sounds off, she once more begins to drag herself to stand. It's slow going, done only on sheer forces of will and stubbornness at this point as she wobbles to stand, facing down the Tick Tock Man with a chill glare, despite the blank expression that takes to her face like a stone, simply staring with that eternally endless and deep blue eye. Where's the witty banter now?
    "Sorry but I need my chassis. For chassis related activities."
    There it is. Though hissed through gritted teeth as she takes a lurching step forward, her refusal to yield despite injury and damage further cementing the gravity of this clash between mechanical beings, further continuing where bodies of flesh and blood would give out from exhaustion and injury.
    Now she reaches to her hip. Slowly, almost reverently drawing the blade at her side free from the scabbard. The blue, mirror-like steel practically sings as it slides along the lip of the sheath, ringing out as she tightens the grip on her shield and trudges ever closer, Faith gleaming in her hand, her pace quickens with every step. Though every footfall yields an angered hiss of steam gouting from her ankles, she raises the blade to bear, turning her slow grudging lurching steps into a clanking bull rush, intending to stop only when her blade has punched clean through -anything-.

Nox (546) has posed:
    "Is that so? Well then maybe you should have thought about that before deciding to stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. Don't worry, I'll make sure to put all of it to very good use. I hate waste you see. Especially when people /waste my time/!" Seeing the blade drawn, Nox re-summons his holographic shield, adopting a ready stance despite floating in midair. Though the sputtering flicker of one lens indicates that the eye probably isn't working, he seems confident in his ability to deal with a mere sword. The empty hand by his side balls up into a fist again, humming loudly as an aura of crackling cyan energy loops and arcs around it. Staring down Amalthea's headlong charge, he braces his forearm in place and takes the lunge of her sword straight against it.

    The clockwork holography promptly shatters, and Faith drives up to the hilt through his chestplate and into where would normally be someone's left lung. The noise of disbelief that comes out of him is tinged in a strange way reminescent of a failing microphone. Promptly teleporting off the sword currently skewering him (has he moved /without/ teleporting?), Nox reappears off to Amalthea's side, just out of arm's reach. The split through his body doesn't reveal any kind of inner mechanism. Only a glowing cerulean gash glowing the same way that all of his powers seem to, slowly leaking identically coloured fluid. "That's unusual. I didn't detect any significant amount of power from that sword. The energy I allocated to defense should have been more than enough." Rather than frustrated, he sounds intrigued, speaking with renewed interest despite his garbled voice. "Since the weapon itself doesn't contain a significant level of tangible energy, meaning it serves as a channel or conduit for your intrinsic powers, yes? Unfortunately that means I have no use for it."

     Finally, nox does something more complex than simply aiming at his opponent. The air quivers as a wave of prickling static runs through it, pulsing in time with the way he moves his arms. By precise degrees, he brings his hands together in front of the hole in his chest, and between his palms materializes a rapidly rotating polyhedron of raw energy; one that spins faster and faster as his fingers move through a series of complex gestures, each movement coming with an audible tick and tock. The last gesture is the symbol for 'infinity', upon which the densely compressed magic core shatters into an omnidirectional wave that accelerates exponentially.

    Within the space of a second, everything has gone silent. The machines have ceased their chugging, and the droning buzz of metal wings has halted completely. Everything else seems to have stopped too; platforms paused miday through exchange, motionless drones left hovering in place, even the drops of liquid filling the great key are suspended in mid-air. Predictably, Amalthea is frozen as well. Though she is aware of it, time has bent sideways through a higher dimension, meaning anything constrained by classical temporal physics will have not moved until it reverts to normal. A sort of reverse-causality timestop. "That does however, mean that you yourself must have a great deal of energy locked away somewhere in there. As payment for all the time I've spent humouring you, I think I will help myself. Mmhaha." Nox zaps up right behind Amalthea, extending his hands as if to clutch her head from both sides, without actually making contact. The next moment, tendrils of eerily flickering lightning begin to stream from his fingers and into the mythic's metal skin. The flow of energy appears to be going in reverse. For every second the bolts rake across her, more and more of her power is siphoned away.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is technically a Paladin's job to shove their nose into places it does not belong for the cause of righteousness and justice. Though Amalthea was never much of one to subscribe to the whole high and mighty mentality that never changed the fact that unicorns are creatures of nature. And where nature is endangered it is not out of the ordinary for one such creature to show up and probably get mauled in the process of trying to stop it.
    Like right now.
    There's no rejoicing, no cry of triumph, not even a smug smirk of victory as Faith renders that shield a moot point and rams into what would normally be a fatal wound. Some quiet part in the back of Amalthea's mind is already immediately reminding her that such a blow is never a guaranteed fight ender against an Elite. Still, she sets her footing, and in the brief instant that she's face to face with the Xelor, lone eye meeting with the remaining functioning lens. There's no reflection; not in her eye, not even the slightest silhouette of the Tick Tock Man there, in that fraction of a second, but two other distinct figures instead, amid the wild gleaming desperation.
    The sudden jump of teleportation rendering the space occupied by her blade as now utterly empty air results in a stagger and lurch, a single half-step forward as she tries to maintain her balance and wheel around to face down her foe once again. "Yeah well. You'd have to pry my sword from my cold dead hands before I'd ever think of giving it up." Hissed breathlessly as she musters the strength for a vaulting leap, sword raised in clear display of violent intent, throwing herself in an arc across the chamber as the time mage weaves his magics.
    Unfortunately the spell is complete before she can reach him, and without so much as chugging to a halt, everything simply stops. The unicorn is held at bay, frozen in place, snarl of pain and fury etched onto her features as she budges not an inch any longer, leaving her fully open for Nox to siphon as he pleases. Unable to even respond, for a good moment, there's no way for Amalthea to express the sheer discomfort of the sensation .That is to put it lightly. The very sensation of internal circuitry, delicate control systems and centuries old runes struggling against the upheaval of their purposes and forced to relinquish their stores to this brutal thefting is more than enough to send her into a state of shock.
    And as it progresses there's... Something. A pulse of energy beating from within her breastplating; palpable and forceful. The 'th-THUMP' of a heartbeat sounds off. And then another, and another, and while Nox saps that very heart of its strength, the unicorn twitches. A jerk at first, before her hand seems to regain a crawling mobility.
    Just enough to thumb a rune on the grip of her shield. A rune that cuases a sudden flux and overload. The sudden explosive eruption of the jetpack upon her back is loud, and blinding, but the pressure wave hits with the force of a car. More than enough to launch the old knight and leave her in a crashed heap at the foot of the very portal she barged in through, gasping for air.

Nox (546) has posed:
    Within his own world of frozen time, Nox seems content to while away the seconds until Amalthea croaks wordlessly; the only movement being the flash of ghostly electricity and the flicker it makes on his mask and breastplate. Insultingly, she can probably hear the man humming under his breath, like someone would while cooking or whittling something in private, as if engaged in some old pasttime. Whatever musings he may be thinking of, he keeps to himself, seeing no need to explain himself for someone who by all rights, should be just about to perish; even more so as he senses Amalthea's metaphorical tanks starting to bottom out. Figuring he had the perfect ratio of power invested into the Stop spell to energy he could expect to regain, he is too wrapped up in mental arithmetic to notice Amalthea's hand going for the panic button.

    Being hit full on while maintaining the spell is a guaranteed way to lose concentration. As the jetpack goes off in his face, every sound in the room suddenly returns all at once in a deafening roar; fine machinery starting back to life again as if nothing had ever happened. Nox himself is flung a significant distance, spinning head over heels and leaving a trail of smoke like a falling comet. Moments before impact with the darkened floor far below, he manages to right himself; throwing his arms out to either side to arrest his momentum with magic. With a mechanically feigned scowl of annoyance, he teleports back up to the unicorn's level, covered in ugly black scorch marks from the jetpack exhaust. "Normally, you should be dead by now. As this doesn't seem to be the case, allow me to /rectify it/." He's aiming at Amalthea. That palm is glowing. The electric whine builds up. A single hand gesture releases a sweeping arc of blinding light, caused by the photons refracting through where spacetime has been warped to such an ungodly extent that the shearing force matches the event horizon of a black hole. The instant it touches against the platform, the entire thing is severed with a molecularly clean cut, the two halves falling away before the plane of force even finishes going through it. Were Amalthea in the way, she would most definitely be in two distinct pieces.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    The explosion takes a hefty toll. Scorched and mangled, Amalthea is launched, herself, in the process, and the resultant CLANK of landing in a heap does not sound like the most pleasant nor softest of landings. Her every motion is an erratic rattle, steam venting angrily as her body rebels against all desire to move.
    That was bad. So disoriented is she, that the onrush of the room resuming activity and time returning to a normal flow is nigh lost on her, she is simply too busy just doing everything she can to remain conscious. And Nox returning, more furious than ever is probably not going to help her situation in the least.
    She at the very least, manages to sit herself up, clutching her side and rasping, free hand already working on dragging herself away. Normally doesn't always apply, as she jsut demonstrated, but pushing her luck any further would be a just plain out bad idea. Because when that palm levels for her, she's gritting her teeth.
    ""... Next time..."
    Next time, for what, exactly she does not remain to clarify. Rather than remain and be trapped and caught in the disastrous effects of that spell, she uses the absolute last of her strength to fling herself back out the portal from whence she came, landing in the dust and ash with a cough, before jamming her thumb on the emergency retrieval button amid her equipment, causing the sudden flash and -crack- of light that flings her directly back to Njorun.