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It's funny—after all of the strange things you've seen and done in the past few months, you would think your threshold for strangeness would be capable of encapsulating this. The flickering light-traced form of the Iron General seems woefully out of place in your living room, though, articulated leg talons flexing as if to scrape a hole in the wood flooring underfoot.
“You ought to know before you settle here,” you tell him. “There are reports of a pair of incredibly dangerous beasts roaming the countryside near Eluneia.”
Glass-lens eyes whir and refocus on you unsettlingly. After a moment the General clarifies the motion by cocking his head to one side.
“Ah,” you stutter, “My apologies. Eluneia is a large city a ways to the southwest of Grisoch.”
The General nods. “And I assume you're putting together a contingency plan for the ripples their presence will inevitably spread to our neighborhood.” It isn't a question the way he says it.
You shake your head. “Something a little more proactive, actually. I need materials from at least one of them to enact an important project on my end.”
“I see.” There is a static-whine as the cylinder projecting the general fuzzes for a moment. “We would be pleased to aid you in that endeavor for an appropriate percentage of the salvage from the beast itself.”
You wonder what precisely that aid entails. “We can negotiate hard numbers at a later time,” you tell him. “I'm woefully underprepared to attempt such a thing at the moment.” Your research regarding the Allmother Mud and the Tyrant Wyrm still makes you a little queasy to recall.
“You ought to know before you settle here,” you tell him. “There are reports of a pair of incredibly dangerous beasts roaming the countryside near Eluneia.”
Glass-lens eyes whir and refocus on you unsettlingly. After a moment the General clarifies the motion by cocking his head to one side.
“Ah,” you stutter, “My apologies. Eluneia is a large city a ways to the southwest of Grisoch.”
The General nods. “And I assume you're putting together a contingency plan for the ripples their presence will inevitably spread to our neighborhood.” It isn't a question the way he says it.
You shake your head. “Something a little more proactive, actually. I need materials from at least one of them to enact an important project on my end.”
“I see.” There is a static-whine as the cylinder projecting the general fuzzes for a moment. “We would be pleased to aid you in that endeavor for an appropriate percentage of the salvage from the beast itself.”
You wonder what precisely that aid entails. “We can negotiate hard numbers at a later time,” you tell him. “I'm woefully underprepared to attempt such a thing at the moment.” Your research regarding the Allmother Mud and the Tyrant Wyrm still makes you a little queasy to recall.