ASHES GAME

The Guardian's head swivels as its 'ears' register the words of the magically gifted human while its eyes take in the signing of the other. It understood the first's words, though they seemed strange when the Guardian considered actively producing them - the product of centuries of listening without speaking, of bearing witness to evolution and revolution but removed, detached, inert. It attempted to create using sound, but the passages were obstructed, perhaps with dirt or vegetable matter or a colony of insects, and all that came out was a halting reedy and resonant sputter, a bit like a pipe organ with a stutter.

The Guardian found that image amusing, and almost immediately found the thought of amusement confusing. The threat of the wolves seemed mitigated, the.... The words of the Sage erupted into its mind carrying with it much signification that faisafes and budding consciousness immediately tried to detach from the first human, "Not the wolves." Command? Its protection directives were instinctual, as were those to obey the Sage's without question. But they were long gone, and they had turned on one another....

More awareness flooding in like a tidal wave - images, images, violent, confusion, cognitive dissonance... even before the Dreaming, from that chaos the spark of Awakening, discernment....

The hulking creature reaches over its should, the glaive attaching to its back as smoothly and automatically as it had flown into its hand. Its body rising from a combat crouch into a neutral position, it turns its head to acknowledge the second human [female], and nods curtly.

Then the eyes flicker, the body spasms, and the creature stumbles, knees buckling, and goes motionless.

"Peace, be still."

Draconic Presence realizing the futility in chasing the Savahrap, it was far too swift. And with the wolves held at bay he could focus on the entity which had arisen from the swamp. He wondered if it was reacting to the prince's ashes. He had some knowledge of the automaton, namely how it was described in the scripture.

"Be you friend? Or foe?"

Faint ribbons of blue-white electricity coruscate over the construct's surface, its body vibrating slightly and eyes flickering. After a moment, it slowly heaves itself back into an upright position, turning to face the speaker, its expressionless gaze fixing on the man. Once again the reedy resonant sound emanates from a narrow horizontal opening where a person's mouth would be. In slightly halting speech, as if the words were unfamiliar, it responds, "I am... the Guardian..., it is my... duty... to protect." The last word trails off slightly as it casts its eyes about the landscape, registering the similar, the vaguely recognizable, and the alien. A moment's pause, and then, "Was my duty." As it speaks, it signs the same message in increasingly fluid movements.

"Are you Rishih*? Do they... persist?"

"Sage? I suppose you could say that. Though kshatriya, would be more accurate." Draconic Presence mused cogitating on the word. "There are many Sages of which I could be considered the least of them. But then, what are you? I surmise a gifted sage would know the answer."

"I am... was... the Guardian of the...," the construct pauses momentarily, as if seeking words in an unfamiliar tongue. "The... Profound... Deep.... Archive of Serulaan. Protector of Secrets. This one... I... failed." There is a subtle shift in the Guardian's body language, a slight drooping of the shoulders and bowing of the head. "This one... knows shame."

"I know of no such place. The Naga have long since gone extinct, perhaps you defended one of their great works? But that does lead one to wonder how you came to this swamp."

Looking to Lassara he signs. "Have you heard of the place?"

"Seems Lassara has never heard of it either."

Draconic Presence shifted the Prince's ashes. "It seems we three are joined by the same sin. I believe in signs. You may recieve absolution as we. There is a wyvern in these parts, help us kill the fiend and at least our gods will look favorably upon you. What do you say Guardian?" Extending his right hand palm faced to the sky in a universal sign of friendship and brotherly love to the stone colossus.

"Serulaan was here, but long gone ago. How long... I can not say. The Dreaming seemed... endless." The construct casts its eyes about the area, and continues' "But time, and perhaps the destructive magics of its falling have rendered this place unrecognizable. Your proposal is agreeable. A Guardian without a purpose is... adrift. " The reedy voice trails off for a moment.

It stands to its full height, shoulders squared and gives a curt nod. "This one... I... will accompany you."

"I need to retrieve my mount. Any ideas?" Draconic Presence looked to Lassara and The Guardian for advisement.

Provided with purpose, and growing quickly more accustomed to contemporary speech, the Guardian responds, "Fleeing opponent, perhaps channeling the direction of their flight to somewhere conducive to your objective. If you know the mount's current location or at least the direction in which it was fleeing, an encircling approach to encourage it to go where you might more easily recover it might be advisable."

"Good plan, lets flank it. I will try to call it in."

"We should head for the way station. If we hurry we can make it before the sun sets."

He was not in any hurry mind. The best part of life was the journey. Still a place to cook a warm meal and better get to know this Guardian. Or even better, find some diversion from the seriousness of their task. To do things as the Prince would have, in memory of him.

"You seem despondent my automated friend. I have met many machines in my life. They are not self aware as you are. It would be good for you to get out into the unfamiliar." He might be a warrior, but the clergy still existed to serve those with a distraught soul. "I found when I was lost, an immediately actionable goal helped. So, you are alive, and you are safe. But to be alive, it is not the same as living. No?"

Draconic Presence soothed the bird, petting it and scratching at its plumage just beneath it's ear. He had not yet mounted it as the svarahap was still quite unnerved at the use of dragon's speech.

The Guardian nods. "Purpose is good, and learning more of this... new world will be helpful." Its pauses for a moment, and it seems as though the eyes dim slightly, as if part of its gaze were being directed internally. "This... self-awareness as you call it is also new. In the limbo of the Dreaming, unable to fulfill my function, something... stirred, and in the dream I awakened. Awake but dreaming - a... paradox. I suppose that is my essence now."

It's eyes brighten again. "Yes, I think an actionable goal is also good."

"Hail, well met. Nice sword!" Draconic Presence guides his mount to a trough, dismounts and ties her off to a nearby post. He approached the other cleric, scrutinizing him. "Do my eyes decieve me, or are you young Tiger Cunning all grown up?"