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The great machine - Ulrik - 03-06-2015 The Engineer couldn't remember when he had last been here, and his bronze eyes swept over the blue, churning lava, shirking from the heat. Sweat darkened his glistening, black coat, matted hair and chest fluff sticking heavily against his skin. The heavy tail swung around his hocks, balancing his tall, well-built form as as he traversed the narrow path. Rarely was Ulrik careful, but when slow, painful death of fire was hanging in the balance, he would take his time. He picked his way to a bigger rock among smaller rocks which held other rocks that seemed to mean something. He paused, analyzing the markings before clearing his throat. Was he supposed to look up at the sky? Was that how it worked? Honestly, he had never really spoken with a god before except when he had given up his magic, and he had no idea if this is how anyone was summoned. Ulrik grunted slightly, listening to Kirchoff snorting behind him, mocking his attempts at formal religion. Ignoring the judgmental hellhound, he continued, taking a deep breath. "God of the Spark..." he said slowly, eyes darting throughout the sky. "I wish to know if there is a way I can earn back the magic I gave to you," he said slowly, his deep, guttural voice churning with a harsh accent. Well... that was what he wanted, and that seemed rather simply. So, he waited, cursing the sweat and heat. Ulrik frowned, not liking this season in the least. When would the cursed sun set? Narrowing his gaze, he waited by the god-stones, ever patient. RE: The great machine - God of the Spark - 03-08-2015
RE: The great machine - Ulrik - 03-09-2015 Ulrik felt the hairs along his withers stand on end as a voice, clear as day, spoke behind him. The stallion raised his brows, looking over his shoulder and seeing the god of time just standing there. Ulrik towered over him, but that did not reduce the intensity of his strength or presence in the least, and the engineer turned to face him, careful to avoid stepping in the churning blue lava. The God was power, strong, but lacking all social normalcies, he did not bow or incline his head. Instead, he blinked curiously, listening to his questions and shrugging his shoulders slightly by evening his stands beneath his weight. He all but forgot about the sweat leaking down his chest fluff, and Kirchoff was, for once, stunned into silence, gaping in awe at the god. "It gets used," he explained, that being the easiest answer. "I assume it was worth it because of that." But Ulrik desperately wanted his magic back. He could create and do so much more with power than he could with just a tent. "But I have plans and work to be done," he pointed out. "In order to do so, I need your gift of spark, and I hope that I have waited an appropriate amount of time before coming to bitch at you like everyone else." Ulrik was generally irked at the desperate clinging to magic, and he had never once quested in his life. The gods had more important things to do than pander to his kind, but since the god told him to visit, here he was. "What might I do to earn your favor back?" He asked, direct and to the point. He was not one to waste time, even though this god had eons of it to spare. RE: The great machine - God of the Spark - 03-11-2015
RE: The great machine - Ulrik - 03-25-2015 Ulrik did not resent the herd. As long as the machine or creation was being used, they it was serving its purpose and worth his while. Everything came as a trade. Nothing was free. He expected to have to sacrifice for what his herd wanted, and that was what he did. Simple. Still, he wanted his power back, and he was not about to fall to his knees in reverence to the God of Time. He was not about to do that to anyone. Either the god would or would not lend his power, and what he said really had little to do with whether or not he deserved it at all. The god laughed, which Ulrik took as a good sign, and he listened, lips quirking up in a brilliant smirk. A challenge was always welcome. He would try to copy the world, try to follow the great machine that was the earth. From the very foundations of life, he could draw inspiration, and the stallion nodded. "It would be my absolute pleasure to challenge myself, he returned, agreeing to his request. Letting others help him however was another matter. He sighed heavily, wondering what message he could gain from this. The stallion nodded, wondering where to begin or who to ask. Perhaps another crafter? Maybe from the Dragon's Throat? "Agreed." Ulrik watched the god disappear nearly as quickly as he came, and the stallion turned swiftly and strode from the veins. He had work to do. And he had ideas... Machines did not have to be metal at all, and he could, perhaps, get help felling quite a large tree. |