<font color='#555555'> <table width=450> <B> >; character .[/b] Clover Vyojlauv . timestamp ;< Tessera, Year 81377 (3), Day 28 >; interpretation . { telepathy. } "Speech." Thoughts. . in character ;< Â Sand poured through the empty city of machina, depositing yet another new layer upon the ruins. The city was wrecked, torn at by war. Buildings were halved, their internal organs strewn everywhere. Some parts were half-covered by sand. For most, only corners of cement were visible, standing forlornly like small islands. Â The ruined city of advanced technology had been abandoned by its inhabitants, but never forgotten. Scientists and historians had picked the place clean, looking for a new discovery to make a name for themselves. Others visited as well, some looking for refuge, others for answers. Whatever the reason, they came and they went. Â One of these was a female pendragon in her late 20 oo's. She was a navigator and traveled the world looking for answers of her own kind, to quench the curiousity of her newest interest. For some unknown reason, the fae's mind always returned to this place. Her keen sense of curiousity always turned to these pages of mystery, like a beloved book. Machina was the only thing that Clover kept coming back to. Maybe there was a reason for that. Â Or maybe it was because of the three reminders upon her very person. Her right front leg, left eye, and tail were all made of machina with a high silver luster. All three parts functioned pefectly, better even than the real thing. As the fae was born with no tail and blind in her left eye, it only seemed logical to replace them with manufactured parts. The leg was installed after an accident involving machina rendered the leg useless. Â The rest of the female was very normal in appearance. Her right occular was blue-washed and no wings adorned her shoulder blades. Her pelt was sand-colored, with highlights of red, gold, and orange. The tattoo on her haunch was a green four-leaved clover and seemed to glow around the edges. A dim golden bracelet circled her front left ankle, engraved with her full name in ramathian. An earring hung from the lobe of her right ear, displaying three obsidian gems inlaid with silver symbols representing life, love, and death. Â The female's figure traversed the empty streets of the old city. Her paws left distinct imprints upon the sand, only to be swept up by the wind in passing. She occasionally peeked inside the buildings, wondering if anything new had somehow been unearthed. Seeing nothing, Clover headed toward the center square. Settled in the focal point of the square was an old fountain. The femme climbed to the top of its marred surface. It was so disfigured it was impossible to even see what it had been in its previous life. Clover sat and looked around at her surroundings, feeling at peace finally. </table></font>
<font color='#000080'><span style='color:BLACK'>Palasaj Novox, The Black Fang</span> What am I supposed to be looking for... Muffled, padded steps moved aside small mounds of rubble and strewn mechanical parts on an open air part of the ruins, not too far from the entrance. Sand lightly trailed through the thrown aside parts after small gusts sprayed the little particles over the ground with a light breeze that was comfort from the stale air. Besides the noise of air passing through small holes in walls and causing movable parts to creak, rusted and scrapped over years of inactivity. Palasaj came for a reason, not just exploring for items to sell to keep food and supplies while traveling. Now the Pendragon had a more practical reason. Word came from another student within the dorms that a crystal timer--a device to synchronize magic usage of Fronima with the structure of resonant material such as carbon or diamond to make an elemental weapon of sorts--could be built with a few parts that aren't regularly sold. Palasaj had no outstanding knowledge of Machina, but with memorizing magical verses, diagrams, and the fact that magic involved creating devices as well, it wasn't too hard to memorize what components he needed to find. After all, what would he do with them afterwards? Palasaj sure as hell couldn't build anything on his own. Carbon Rod, crystal conductor studs, bacterial bus card...all I need is a Fronima buffer and a small Buster hilt, but I can make the hilt myself... Palasaj emerged from a heap of junk with a pack on his back, the large, black paws climbing on top of the heap. The muscular black fox leaned over slightly, looking down for the easiest way down without falling in a landslide of parts or cutting himself on broken glass. The immense black tail whipped behind him, flashing his tail flame like a black flag when Palasaj jumped down, bounding on different heavy objects that looked to be sturdy. He hit the ground, scanning as much of the surrounding area as possible with his morbid eyes in search of the Fronima Buffer. It resembled a long rod with nodes on the sides, used to pulse distributed Fronima through a conductive material to be imbued. Maybe if there weren't so many ripped apart pieces of junk, he could remove one from an in tact machina artifact. No such luck... Finally restored of energy and out of his humanish form, Palasaj rested in his normal Pendragon body. Resembling a huge black wolf, the young adventurer had a massive build from hunting in the wild and running with the many comrades he met over his vagrant life for fifteen years. Small black bracelets dangled over each paw, and his paws stayed protected from the harsh ground and changing terrain by soft soled, steel lined high boots and a pair black, spike knuckled gauntlets. His equally large blade, Black Fang, bounced on his back with the pack of collected parts from the huge heap situated behind him. He secured a small, retractable carbon staff to his right hind leg, just in case he needed to protect himself. The last time he visited the ruins with four party members, an ambush or rebuilt, Fronima powered mechanical beasts waited for him in the same exact area. Passing by some of the fallen machine, some of them stripped since his encounter with them, memories of running in search of treasure, fame, and power made Palasaj feel more enthusiastic about his work. Even though school became a major part of his life, it opened up nothing more than a reason to explore the world.</font>
<font color='#555555'> <table width=450> >;------------------------;< The echoing rumble of small parts tumbling down a hill of ruins caught the fae's attention. The auditive facing the sound raised into a standing position upon her skull, taking the vibrations and running them through to her crania. Her eyes turned in the direction of the commotion, and she zoomed in with her machina orb. A young male pendragon, painted ebony, she could see was searching for something. Mechanial beasts, stripped of their outer wear, lay beside him like technological skeletons, giving off an eerie feeling of nostalgia. Her front left paw stepped forward, pounding down a step as she headed for the male, her descent making no sound. She came upon the junkpile and let her head fall over the ridge, looking down at the male with interest. She sat, head backing up from the fall slightly. She held the sharp edge of the end of her tail away from her body carefully, not eager to draw her own blood. She waited to see how long it would take the pendragon below to notice her presence, a sort of amusement taking up residence in her expression. >;------------------------;< OOC: Sorry its so short. ; Didn't know what to write. ^^; </table></font>
