Beyond Misc 1} Planae and Claton
It seemed like an ocean, the plains. The wind was whistling, bending the grass low, making it shimmer in the late afternoon sun. The only interruptions to the pattern were the carcasses of abandoned, hulking machines. These caused the wind to howl through them, though there was no one to hear the noise.
Except for one. A tall figure strode through the grasses, bent low against the wind, clothes fluttering. They were headed towards a still-standing tower in the ruins of a village, allegedly a shared settlement between humans and trolls. Upon arriving to the dead town, the figure could ascertain this to be true. Traditional human architecture mingled with the more familiar look of hives, though none of them were fit to even be called shelter anymore. The wind tore through cracks and holes, increasing the cacophony of the surrounding area. The figure approached the clock tower, and paused.
The great and mighty tower stood tall in the middle of a wasteland, the only sign of life in an otherwise abandoned hellscape. The great beyond wasn’t inviting to those with still beating hearts, much less those looking to thrive, but perhaps that was the reason such a tower existed in the first place. Even from a distance it was a beacon of sorts with its still shifting hands and the occasional bellow of a bell resounding through the abandoned town with its great toll. Of course, the mechanical life that still churned the gears of this tower was a signal of life on its own. Yes, Deep within such a tower lived a single solitary life. The front door was wooden, rotting ever so slightly in the corners, but it held sturdy with a letter slot in the middle and what looked like a glass peep hole just above. To the right of the door was a neatly printed sign that read “consultations inside” nailed firmly into the stone.
The small ticks of the tower itself was a constant white noise that could be heard only from the exterior, followed by the occasional churn every minute, and a loud clunk every hour on the hour. For such a large building in such an otherwise abandoned town, there was no doubt that it only stood the testament of time through augmentation.
The figure-- I mean, we know it's Planae, but for the sake of mystery-- sized up the tower. Climbing it would be no difficult business, especially not with a literal hoverboard, but there was indeed a front door. It didn't seem locked, but it was certainly heavy. It was a wonder it didn't creak, as Planae pushed it open. Very well-oiled, to be sure. Leaning their hoverboard against a wall next to the door, they began exploring. It was dark, right in the entrance, allowing the faintest of red glows to be seen from under the mess of moss that covered their eyes.
The moment the door opened, a wire was pulled. From there the wire seemed to knock over a ball, which then travelled down a little tray, which hit what looked like a button, which activated one of those small toy water drinking wingbeasts, which spilled the water activating another ball… It was quite the sight, an absolutely elaborate rube goldberg machine that seemed to go from part to part, stretching upwards past the stairs until soon enough, a final DING! Could be heard.
As if in response to this ding, a voice piped up from an indiscernible room from one of the tower's upper floors.
“1’ll be there in ju2t a mom3nt! My gre4te5t apologies for the wait” the voice was rather low in tone, but chipper nonetheless. It would seem that that was some elaborate doorbell notifying whoever was in here that there was a guest, though one could wonder why the bell couldn’t have been directly attached to the initial wire at the door.
Momentarily transfixed by the rube goldberg machine, Planae was startled back to attention by the sound of a voice. So someone did live up here. One of their patrolling ros had caught signs of life, recently, but they'd assumed it must be another monster, or simply an error in programming. Sounded like a troll, too. Planae chose to stay put, on the ground floor, and most importantly near the door.
You never know who might turn up to be a cannibal, or mad biologist, or regular old insane. The irony of the thought was also completely lost on Planae. Best-case scenario, at least, is the owner of the voice turned out not to be hostile.
A quiet crescendo of steps slowly travelled downwards, increasing in volume as they got closer. Eventually, the visitor would catch sight of just who had called out initially. A curly haired troll emerged with a rather well put together outfit on, strangely formal especially for the scenery that surrounded the tower. It was as though the threshold into the tower marked a change in worlds, the cozy yet metallic tasting air could only clash with the grim world around them.
Just before he got to the tom, he stopped dead in his tracks. Curiously, he adjusted the large brass goggles over his eyes as if he assumed they failed to do their job in improving his vision. Say… was this not a troll at all? The difference between monsters and trolls were that monsters couldn’t enter through a mechanism as complex as a door, and if that were true then…
“Dear me, now what m1ght you be?” He grumbled in a low voice as if only speaking to himself, not expecting this visitor to be capable of hearing him anyways.
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