Ombar
Guildie
Oy.
Posts: 37
Race: Gnome
Class: Monk
Sect: Iron Vanguard
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Post by Ombar on Sept 13, 2014 1:10:36 GMT -6
The bells struck three times. Bonzil sat hunched over in his workshop like any other Friday afternoon, Arclight Spanner in hand as he tightened up the specs on his latest invention, the Mk. V . Lost in thought, it took the diligent Gnome several moments to hear the heavy rapping at his door. "Come in!"
A cloaked and tattered figure drudged past the threshold, a heavy clump in each step as he approached the cluttered desk of Bonzil. "... Bonzil. Bonzil Steamwrench, creator of the Steamwrench mechanical prosthetics I assume?"
The engineer grits his teeth as his beady eyes scan the stranger several times over. "Possibly. It depends who is asking."
"Just a customer in need of an arm. A special arm. Rumor has it, you crafted an arm that allows the user to read the future. That grants them the use of clairvoyance."
Bonzil becomes flustered at the dark figure's knowledge on such classified information. "Clairvoyance?! Hah! No such thing, let alone a metal hunk of junk could grant you that. Go back to whatever hell hole you crawled out of and learn to live without such wild fantasies."
"I always get what I need." In a swift fluid motion, the cloaked man flipped about and dissipated out through the doorway and into the setting evening sun. A uneasy feeling settled into Bonzil's stomach.
"...The Mk. IV. He knows."
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Ombar
Guildie
Oy.
Posts: 37
Race: Gnome
Class: Monk
Sect: Iron Vanguard
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Post by Ombar on Sept 13, 2014 12:11:52 GMT -6
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Bonzil drudged through the frost woven hills of Alterac, the icy winds pierced. "Xi... What could a man like him have use for the Mk. IV? No, anyone with that kind of power could wreak all kinds of havok. He must be stopped." The rhythmic crunching the snow continued as Bonzil pulled up his scarf and hood around his face.
Merely a dot in the blizzard, an arrow soars down and impales the Gnome's leg. A piercing howl is muffled by the tearing wind. He flips a dial on his arm before scampering towards the shelter of the ruins. He barely dodges the next three arrows, before flipping the dial back.
"XI! You mess with powers beyond your knowledge! The side effects of using the Mk. IV is worse than you know!"
A goggled hunched over man appears out from beyond the top of the ruins, looking down upon Bonzil's shelter. He places a hand onto the neon blue pulsing mechanical arm of his. "The future... It lays bare before my eyes. Your movements, your plans, they're futile. You'll pay... The crimes you've done... YOU'LL PAY!"
An explosive shot from Xi's bow rumbles the ruined courtyard and a pile of snow leaps down onto Bonzil. "I've got you now, Gnome! Sleep beneath the snow, forever!"
Bonzil grips his bundled arm and throws the dial to full blast, the world around him seems to slow as he slips past the snow and rolls to another cover. Once again he flips the dial back, letting out a coughing fit and spitting up a large sum of blood as he does. "Damn... I can't keep doing this."
Xi leaps down into the snow, dropping his bow as he does so and draws out a crude machete. With the agility of a panther, the deformed man charges like a raging bull. "Your experiments are done, Steamwrench!"
A cloak flies into the air, revealing Bonzil's arms. He wears a vibrant pink arm made of a vast array of gems and dials. The joint where the metal met his flesh seemed quite fresh and inflamed. Xi's ragged figure flushed as his eyes flashed with a blue, seeing the next move. "No, it's not pos---" Time stops. Bonzil hacks up more blood.
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Ombar
Guildie
Oy.
Posts: 37
Race: Gnome
Class: Monk
Sect: Iron Vanguard
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Post by Ombar on Sept 13, 2014 12:45:28 GMT -6
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bonzil falls into his chair, his body trembling violently, dropping his belt of gadgets as well as the bloodied blue arm. His heavy breathing picks up as he spits out a mouthful of crimson onto the floor. He fades in and out of consciousness, catching his breath as he does.
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It could have been moments, it could have been hours for all he knew. Bonzil throws himself onto his feet, staggering to the hunched over corpse in the corner of the room, the numeric numbers 'XI' branded onto the side of his mutated and mangled face. With all his mustered up strength, the feeble mage dragged the body to a nearby hatch open agape in the floor. An icy frost raises from the pit and a vile rotten smell accompanied by it. The body drops in. The hatch shuts.
Bonzil searches through his blood-stained belt and lifts a recording device to his mouth. "Steamwrench Arm Mk IV recovered, Note: side effects invoke insanity on the user. Steamwrench Arm Mk V prototype successfully speeds the user's awareness and mobility at the cost of internal organs temporarily beginning to shut down. Will need additional research." He lets out a sigh as he flops back into the chair.
"Failed experiment eleven dealt with. Cloning will continue at a later date."
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