The orange lightning of the Nether illuminated the High Inquisitor's armor in stark relief. Normally imposing in height and breadth, the orc was dwarfed both by the massive viewport and by the awe-inspiring starscape beyond. A tiny figurine soldier standing before the mind-numbing vastness of the eternal void.
"I do think that you set your laboratory in a dangerous realm, should the Legion ever choose to wage a proper war against the Grim!"
Khorvis chuckled at his own cleverness, but washed the taunt away with pleasantries. "Aye, you have set up an impressive slice of space for yourself, brother Bloodscream." The warrior set his bottle of brandy down upon an expensive wooden sidetable (failing to use a coaster) and kept his back to the Nether while approaching Jeeves. As a fellow engineer, he was accustomed to the mannerisms of the robot type, though maybe not the specific model. Indeed, this mechano-butler had been assembled with such exactness that the metal seams of his joints were infuriatingly difficult to identify. The extended plate of whisky distracted Khorvis from the work of art and was quickly plundered of a tall tumbler, filled to the brim.
"Why do we not turn to the reason for this summons, Bloodscream." The Inquisitor raised his tumbler in salute to the other orc. "To a better view, aye?"
Patch job.
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Bloodscream
- Lost
- Posts: 625
Re: Patch job.
Bloodscream grinned at the mention of the Legion.
"Why ever do you think I chose this location brother? Precisely for those reasons. At the risk of not helping in putting you at ease, this entire station can, at a moments notice, be evacuated and turned into a... well... something really really bad."
His grin got far toothier.
"In the meantime however, the cloaking field is fully operational and we as you say, have work to do... come, if you would Inquisitor."
Bloodscream walked across the room and as he came down the two small steps, the walls were in motion. Furniture moved, spun, was swallowed whole by the floor or walls. It was a little dyzzying but Bloodscream moved through as though he were the one controlling the dance.
By the time he reached his mark, a large sarcophagus like chamber had risen from the floor. With a soft hiss it had opened to reveal the spacious interior. It was obvious to Khorvis how he should stand within the device. He examined it carefully as Bloodscream explained briefly.
"Everything is already programmed. You get in, I activate it. There will be a soothing mist, you'll hear some troll drum selections from my private collection. There will be lights as the device calibrates. The head and neck will softly inflate to immobilize your head and then it'll get to work."
He shrugged at Khorvis.
"That's about it, I'll be right here monitoring the whole show..."
"Why ever do you think I chose this location brother? Precisely for those reasons. At the risk of not helping in putting you at ease, this entire station can, at a moments notice, be evacuated and turned into a... well... something really really bad."
His grin got far toothier.
"In the meantime however, the cloaking field is fully operational and we as you say, have work to do... come, if you would Inquisitor."
Bloodscream walked across the room and as he came down the two small steps, the walls were in motion. Furniture moved, spun, was swallowed whole by the floor or walls. It was a little dyzzying but Bloodscream moved through as though he were the one controlling the dance.
By the time he reached his mark, a large sarcophagus like chamber had risen from the floor. With a soft hiss it had opened to reveal the spacious interior. It was obvious to Khorvis how he should stand within the device. He examined it carefully as Bloodscream explained briefly.
"Everything is already programmed. You get in, I activate it. There will be a soothing mist, you'll hear some troll drum selections from my private collection. There will be lights as the device calibrates. The head and neck will softly inflate to immobilize your head and then it'll get to work."
He shrugged at Khorvis.
"That's about it, I'll be right here monitoring the whole show..."
Re: Patch job.
The sarcophagus, though more than spacious enough to contain the orc’s large frame, still felt constricting. His eyes darted about his cage and the echoes of wardrums arose. To be confined to a box and at the whim of a being who clearly viewed Khorvis as a subject in dire need of reconfiguration and enhancement only stoked memories of the stockades and Northward march after being captured by the Alliance at the siege of Blackrock Spire. Would this machine reveal flails and batons to beat Khorvis into submission? Would it issue forth curses and insults in strange tongues, snuffing out his smallest flame of rebellion? The walls closed in and his breathing grew short and rapid.
Khorvis raised both fists to hammer at the chamber – then squeezed his eye shut, inhaled deeply, and lowered his arms. No, Brother Bloodscream held only the most benign intentions for his High Inquisitor. This little operation would be a boon for the Mandate, rebuilding the warrior’s damaged sight and making the most of his natural talents. Best of all, there would be no magical foolery. This was raw metal and circuitry, all gifts of the earth. Khorvis relaxed and noticed for the first time the luxuriousness of sarcophagus – plush cushioning in rich silk, expensive dyes, and crystal portholes that stared out into the laboratory proper.
Master Bloodscream idled about the control panel, debating the aesthetic choices of these cool chrome enclosures over the raw skeletal clockworks hidden beneath. Was it better to view his painstaking efforts as secondary to the ultimate purpose of his designs, or should this grim surgery be the sum of its components, drafted and forged in the repetition of trial and error? Every piece of this miracle of engineering had endured its critical review bathed in the fel glow of the Nether, while the maker tinkered with every millimeter of its specifications. Would it not be best to showcase the complexity in honor of time well-spent?
No, such trivialities were suited to the lesser races. The Mandate, (and science itself!), demanded an unyielding focus upon the ultimate goal. All else were window dressings.
Tearing his gaze from the porthole, Khorvis settled back against the upholstery and quieted his mind under the spell of what could only be described as a fusion between Zandalarii tribal beats and the more quixotic solos of the Tauren Chieftans. Among this symphony descended an armada of thinly tethered armatures, each laden with unique apparatus suited for the manipulation and addition of living stuff. Quickly they took hold of the ruins of the High Inquisitor’s face. A dais they would escarpe and erode, fit for the vision that was to come.
Swiveling in his grand chair, Bloodscream turned to a selection of possible schematics, each chosen for a possible configuration of his subject. He cross-referenced the topography of the visceral damage against the most likely candidate of his prototypes and easily settled with the most incisive of the lot. Immediately a more crude subset of armatures swarmed the patient’s maxillofacial discomfit and attended to the exacting work of assembling the structures for ocular implant…
Khorvis slowly awoke from his half-drunken, half-drugged trance. The seals of the sarcophagus had long since bled their pneumatic ventings and the bloody appendages of the laboratory were stowed beyond the sight of the visitor. A viciously bright surgical lamp shone in the orc’s eye as he stepped out of the box. Shielding his face with his mechanical hand, the newly installed protocals took over.
The surgery was revealed in the stark contrast of crimson and shadow. While Khorvis covered his Clan-given eye, the ocular implant pierced not only the visible spectrum, but also the infrared. Bloodscream’s heat signature arose from his chair in crisp distinction – a clearly defined form of orc meat with a beating heart for Khorvis to discern from its cold surroundings.
“Do you find the results to be to your liking, High Inquisitor? Do not worry that any expense was spared. There is enough copper in that head of yours to wire the whole of Ulduar to Orgrimmar and back again!” Bloodscream would have failed to hide his enthusiasm, were it not for the steady and cordial tone he offered his superior.
The lamp dimmed and Khorvis lowered his forearm. Both eyes adjusted to the ambient light. Depth perception had finally returned. The warrior reached out and snatched a fast-moving armature from a sidetable. It sizzled and crackled as he snapped it in two. Bloodscream failed to contain a twinge of distaste as the ruined robotics fell to the floor.
“Lok’tar, brother. The matter of our Peace do be much clearer to me, now that the pain do be gone."
Khorvis raised both fists to hammer at the chamber – then squeezed his eye shut, inhaled deeply, and lowered his arms. No, Brother Bloodscream held only the most benign intentions for his High Inquisitor. This little operation would be a boon for the Mandate, rebuilding the warrior’s damaged sight and making the most of his natural talents. Best of all, there would be no magical foolery. This was raw metal and circuitry, all gifts of the earth. Khorvis relaxed and noticed for the first time the luxuriousness of sarcophagus – plush cushioning in rich silk, expensive dyes, and crystal portholes that stared out into the laboratory proper.
Master Bloodscream idled about the control panel, debating the aesthetic choices of these cool chrome enclosures over the raw skeletal clockworks hidden beneath. Was it better to view his painstaking efforts as secondary to the ultimate purpose of his designs, or should this grim surgery be the sum of its components, drafted and forged in the repetition of trial and error? Every piece of this miracle of engineering had endured its critical review bathed in the fel glow of the Nether, while the maker tinkered with every millimeter of its specifications. Would it not be best to showcase the complexity in honor of time well-spent?
No, such trivialities were suited to the lesser races. The Mandate, (and science itself!), demanded an unyielding focus upon the ultimate goal. All else were window dressings.
Tearing his gaze from the porthole, Khorvis settled back against the upholstery and quieted his mind under the spell of what could only be described as a fusion between Zandalarii tribal beats and the more quixotic solos of the Tauren Chieftans. Among this symphony descended an armada of thinly tethered armatures, each laden with unique apparatus suited for the manipulation and addition of living stuff. Quickly they took hold of the ruins of the High Inquisitor’s face. A dais they would escarpe and erode, fit for the vision that was to come.
Swiveling in his grand chair, Bloodscream turned to a selection of possible schematics, each chosen for a possible configuration of his subject. He cross-referenced the topography of the visceral damage against the most likely candidate of his prototypes and easily settled with the most incisive of the lot. Immediately a more crude subset of armatures swarmed the patient’s maxillofacial discomfit and attended to the exacting work of assembling the structures for ocular implant…
Khorvis slowly awoke from his half-drunken, half-drugged trance. The seals of the sarcophagus had long since bled their pneumatic ventings and the bloody appendages of the laboratory were stowed beyond the sight of the visitor. A viciously bright surgical lamp shone in the orc’s eye as he stepped out of the box. Shielding his face with his mechanical hand, the newly installed protocals took over.
The surgery was revealed in the stark contrast of crimson and shadow. While Khorvis covered his Clan-given eye, the ocular implant pierced not only the visible spectrum, but also the infrared. Bloodscream’s heat signature arose from his chair in crisp distinction – a clearly defined form of orc meat with a beating heart for Khorvis to discern from its cold surroundings.
“Do you find the results to be to your liking, High Inquisitor? Do not worry that any expense was spared. There is enough copper in that head of yours to wire the whole of Ulduar to Orgrimmar and back again!” Bloodscream would have failed to hide his enthusiasm, were it not for the steady and cordial tone he offered his superior.
The lamp dimmed and Khorvis lowered his forearm. Both eyes adjusted to the ambient light. Depth perception had finally returned. The warrior reached out and snatched a fast-moving armature from a sidetable. It sizzled and crackled as he snapped it in two. Bloodscream failed to contain a twinge of distaste as the ruined robotics fell to the floor.
“Lok’tar, brother. The matter of our Peace do be much clearer to me, now that the pain do be gone."
