Esmerelda
02-27-10, 09:44 AM
Esmerelda approached the steps to the citadel. She had heard of it in her travels, when she was in Salvar. A place where one could fight and not fear death. Such would not be the case for her, she was afraid. She was after all a machine, and nothing more. In fact, she was several machines. Millions of them, billions of them, if not trillions and zillions of them. Truth was, Esmerelda had yet to take a complete population census of the nanites that composed her swarm. Such small machines, no bigger than a human cell, they were a marvel of engineering.
Yet, despite being so many small machines, she was able to take human form, and thus interact with her environment. Currently she could only take any variety of human female form she wished, and due to the sunny weather, she wished to take the form of a tall slender human female in a nice white dress. She had her skin be white, and her hair blond. Her lips appeared to be bright red, as though she wore lipstick, and her eyes were black as coal.
Her emotions matrix fully active, Esmerelda couldn't help but wonder what others thought of her appearance. Normally she wouldn't care, but ever since she recovered her Emotions Matrix due to a spar with an organic man who named himself Hyro Izuahl, she began to think of such things.
She paused to review her file on Hyro, relishing the images she had saved of him. Six feet of raven haired manhood. The image triggered her desire response, and Esmerelda realized, with relish, that when her maker gave her a complete matrix capable of simulating the entire dynamic range of human emotions, he meant it. Yet, could she feel love, the most powerful of all emotions?
As her senses switched from internal activity to external activity, she realized several people were looking at her quizzically. She realized she had partially melted when she looked at the image of Hyro, and made a system message to investigate that at a more opportune moment. Blushing, she reformed.
“So, do we put her in a tank of water, or merely give her a private room to, ahh, recover in?” one person asked another. All were wearing identical robes, some were older, some were younger. These were surely the monks of the citadel.
“I don't know. I sense that she's alive, like we are somehow, but made of metal, like a golem. I sense no magic, but great amounts of energy running through her, equal to say, the average person's life force. If I didn't know better, I'd say when she began to melt like ice on a hot day, she was probably lusting after some man she had met once. That's certainly the emotion I felt coming from her. It was strange though, as though it were somehow different from an average person's feelings of lust. Regardless, I wonder what she's here for.” An older monk said.
“I am perfectly capable of hearing you, and for your information, I am a magical construct. I was made, not born. Having no owners worthy of possessing me, I am left to my own devices. I am damaged, but you lack the skills necessary to fully assist me. The wise men that made me possessed a unique magic not found on this world. I am however, fully self-efficient. I can repair myself completely given enough time. Therefore, since I am left to my own devices, I need to accomplish two tasks.
The first is to take complete stock of my battle skills and see what I am still capable of. The second, I hope will take place during or after battle. I recovered my Emotions Matrix, which gives me emotions equal to any human, during a battle, rather, just after. I am hoping that by battling here in the citadel, I can recover more of my lost enchantments.” Esmerelda said crisply, not appreciating being talked about as if she wasn't there.
What she said wasn't a lie, but it wasn't true either. She did need to perform a thorough analysis of her battle worthiness, and perhaps in the process, she might recover more of her lost data like she did her Emotions Matrix. Esmerelda was pleased with that recovery, the hope she now felt for her potential success was a pleasant feeling. She used the magical construct story, because a world as primitive as Althanas couldn't possibly believe anything as fantastic as the truth.
The monks seemed to buy it, and appeared to think deeply.
“Are you willing to face death, or whatever the equivalent might be for one such as you?” a monk asked.
“Knowing you do not have the ability to bring me back if I should be destroyed, yes.” Esmerelda said.
The monks broke out in smiles.
“Well then come right this way. We have many arenas to choose from. Don't like what we have currently, well we'll help you create one to your specifications.” another monk said leading Esmerelda into the citadel.
“To my specifications?” Esmerelda asked, breaking into a smile of her own, a mischievous one at that.
~ ~ ~
Esmerelda recalled with pleasure the whispered words of the monks as they left.
“Good gods that woman is demanding. Exactly this length, exactly that length, and not a picometer off. What is a picometer anyway?”
“I don't know, but it must be extravagantly small. Remember when Ahlrek simply walked away? It was because she had spent the previous hour lecturing him on the importance of propriety when working with things of a delicate nature after he missed her directions by an inch. I don't think she stopped talking long enough to take a single solitary breath once the entire time we were setting the room up.”
Esmerelda chuckled silently to herself. Her arena of choice was a replication of a Holo-simulator from back on her world. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, they were all one singe continuous grid of squares, exactly five feet each.
Simple, easy, efficient. Yet, this arena had its surprises. At a single word from her, the arena would change to one of three different surprise arenas. Esmerelda was disappointed in one thing only so far, despite her best efforts she had failed to completely break the legendary patience of the monks. Test it, yes, break it, no. Still, she had fun trying.
Esmerelda stood stock still in the center of the room, waiting for her first scheduled opponent to arrive.
Yet, despite being so many small machines, she was able to take human form, and thus interact with her environment. Currently she could only take any variety of human female form she wished, and due to the sunny weather, she wished to take the form of a tall slender human female in a nice white dress. She had her skin be white, and her hair blond. Her lips appeared to be bright red, as though she wore lipstick, and her eyes were black as coal.
Her emotions matrix fully active, Esmerelda couldn't help but wonder what others thought of her appearance. Normally she wouldn't care, but ever since she recovered her Emotions Matrix due to a spar with an organic man who named himself Hyro Izuahl, she began to think of such things.
She paused to review her file on Hyro, relishing the images she had saved of him. Six feet of raven haired manhood. The image triggered her desire response, and Esmerelda realized, with relish, that when her maker gave her a complete matrix capable of simulating the entire dynamic range of human emotions, he meant it. Yet, could she feel love, the most powerful of all emotions?
As her senses switched from internal activity to external activity, she realized several people were looking at her quizzically. She realized she had partially melted when she looked at the image of Hyro, and made a system message to investigate that at a more opportune moment. Blushing, she reformed.
“So, do we put her in a tank of water, or merely give her a private room to, ahh, recover in?” one person asked another. All were wearing identical robes, some were older, some were younger. These were surely the monks of the citadel.
“I don't know. I sense that she's alive, like we are somehow, but made of metal, like a golem. I sense no magic, but great amounts of energy running through her, equal to say, the average person's life force. If I didn't know better, I'd say when she began to melt like ice on a hot day, she was probably lusting after some man she had met once. That's certainly the emotion I felt coming from her. It was strange though, as though it were somehow different from an average person's feelings of lust. Regardless, I wonder what she's here for.” An older monk said.
“I am perfectly capable of hearing you, and for your information, I am a magical construct. I was made, not born. Having no owners worthy of possessing me, I am left to my own devices. I am damaged, but you lack the skills necessary to fully assist me. The wise men that made me possessed a unique magic not found on this world. I am however, fully self-efficient. I can repair myself completely given enough time. Therefore, since I am left to my own devices, I need to accomplish two tasks.
The first is to take complete stock of my battle skills and see what I am still capable of. The second, I hope will take place during or after battle. I recovered my Emotions Matrix, which gives me emotions equal to any human, during a battle, rather, just after. I am hoping that by battling here in the citadel, I can recover more of my lost enchantments.” Esmerelda said crisply, not appreciating being talked about as if she wasn't there.
What she said wasn't a lie, but it wasn't true either. She did need to perform a thorough analysis of her battle worthiness, and perhaps in the process, she might recover more of her lost data like she did her Emotions Matrix. Esmerelda was pleased with that recovery, the hope she now felt for her potential success was a pleasant feeling. She used the magical construct story, because a world as primitive as Althanas couldn't possibly believe anything as fantastic as the truth.
The monks seemed to buy it, and appeared to think deeply.
“Are you willing to face death, or whatever the equivalent might be for one such as you?” a monk asked.
“Knowing you do not have the ability to bring me back if I should be destroyed, yes.” Esmerelda said.
The monks broke out in smiles.
“Well then come right this way. We have many arenas to choose from. Don't like what we have currently, well we'll help you create one to your specifications.” another monk said leading Esmerelda into the citadel.
“To my specifications?” Esmerelda asked, breaking into a smile of her own, a mischievous one at that.
~ ~ ~
Esmerelda recalled with pleasure the whispered words of the monks as they left.
“Good gods that woman is demanding. Exactly this length, exactly that length, and not a picometer off. What is a picometer anyway?”
“I don't know, but it must be extravagantly small. Remember when Ahlrek simply walked away? It was because she had spent the previous hour lecturing him on the importance of propriety when working with things of a delicate nature after he missed her directions by an inch. I don't think she stopped talking long enough to take a single solitary breath once the entire time we were setting the room up.”
Esmerelda chuckled silently to herself. Her arena of choice was a replication of a Holo-simulator from back on her world. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, they were all one singe continuous grid of squares, exactly five feet each.
Simple, easy, efficient. Yet, this arena had its surprises. At a single word from her, the arena would change to one of three different surprise arenas. Esmerelda was disappointed in one thing only so far, despite her best efforts she had failed to completely break the legendary patience of the monks. Test it, yes, break it, no. Still, she had fun trying.
Esmerelda stood stock still in the center of the room, waiting for her first scheduled opponent to arrive.