Dec 19 2020, 04:46 PM
In the dead of night, beneath only shimmering aurora-light, a series of giant insectoid creatures flowed from beneath Ursa's surface. They were careful to not be seen, and their tracks were soon covered by drifting snow; ice-woven carapaces, like glass, shone as they went about their business. The workers carried small packages, guarded closely by the watchful Praetors, whose compound eyes gazed at the sky, the ground... No, they would not be seen.
But they left their presents for all to find.
These were carefully- and well-wrapped, as if by nimble fingers instead of clamping jaws: folded into multicolored red, white and green wrapping paper, flowing with golden ribbons. These presents--all relatively small--were left gently tucked away and carefully nestled throughout Ursa: beneath rocky overhangs, settled against the stems of frozen plants, or perched cheerfully on a time-bleached Icebeast skull.
Within these many lovingly-wrapped boxes could be found a multitude of gifts.
Entirely harmless gifts.
Gifts to show Mother's goodwill to all Gembound. Nothing more. Not at all.
These gifts were astonishing, really: a class of objects never before seen by the Gembound of the cave. They glittered in glass and metal--brass and copper, gold and silver, iron and steel. And many of them softly ticked, tiny clockwork gears forever in precision motion.
There were pocketwatches, many on small chains, with Roman numerals painstakingly painted or engraved. There were music boxes, delicately carved from wood or forged in shining metals, with little mirrors or figures that turned to tinkling music when wound. There were goggles, many bright with studded gemstones, ornate in their elaborate design, with protective glass eye-covers; there were, too, regular spectacles with perfectly round lenses. And these came in many colors, sizes, and styles.
Softly-clicking metronomes, their ticks quietly pulsing like some mechanized heartbeat through the confines of their boxes, lay in many of the presents. And kaleidescopes, with their lovingly-tooled metal shells hiding glorious rotating glass lenses, showing any Gembound capable of manipulating them a rainbow of shifting colors in a thousand mirrored shapes. Disc-shaped astrolabes, perhaps the size of dinner plates, held mysterious and again quite ornate discs and circles intended to be rotated across a series of charts beneath: some sort of clockwork system, it seemed, for tracing the movements of foreign stars, and a time unknown within the caves. And to that end, too, were star charts in miniature, engraved in bright gemstone, glittering as with real stars; these were in the form of small pendants, encased in metal and often on slender chains.
Lastly, some of these gifts contained clockwork creatures: specifically, the ant-like creatures that had carried them here--Praetors and Cleaners both. They were of blue and gray metals, and glass: they were each perfect, and when wound, moved forward in graceful yet mechanical steps.
Each of these gifts was incredibly complex, beautiful to look upon, advanced beyond Origin's technology; each was a masterwork of sophisticated clockwork, an aesthetic perfection to each and every piece.
And each was, of course, perfectly and completely safe.
But they left their presents for all to find.
These were carefully- and well-wrapped, as if by nimble fingers instead of clamping jaws: folded into multicolored red, white and green wrapping paper, flowing with golden ribbons. These presents--all relatively small--were left gently tucked away and carefully nestled throughout Ursa: beneath rocky overhangs, settled against the stems of frozen plants, or perched cheerfully on a time-bleached Icebeast skull.
Within these many lovingly-wrapped boxes could be found a multitude of gifts.
Entirely harmless gifts.
Gifts to show Mother's goodwill to all Gembound. Nothing more. Not at all.
These gifts were astonishing, really: a class of objects never before seen by the Gembound of the cave. They glittered in glass and metal--brass and copper, gold and silver, iron and steel. And many of them softly ticked, tiny clockwork gears forever in precision motion.
There were pocketwatches, many on small chains, with Roman numerals painstakingly painted or engraved. There were music boxes, delicately carved from wood or forged in shining metals, with little mirrors or figures that turned to tinkling music when wound. There were goggles, many bright with studded gemstones, ornate in their elaborate design, with protective glass eye-covers; there were, too, regular spectacles with perfectly round lenses. And these came in many colors, sizes, and styles.
Softly-clicking metronomes, their ticks quietly pulsing like some mechanized heartbeat through the confines of their boxes, lay in many of the presents. And kaleidescopes, with their lovingly-tooled metal shells hiding glorious rotating glass lenses, showing any Gembound capable of manipulating them a rainbow of shifting colors in a thousand mirrored shapes. Disc-shaped astrolabes, perhaps the size of dinner plates, held mysterious and again quite ornate discs and circles intended to be rotated across a series of charts beneath: some sort of clockwork system, it seemed, for tracing the movements of foreign stars, and a time unknown within the caves. And to that end, too, were star charts in miniature, engraved in bright gemstone, glittering as with real stars; these were in the form of small pendants, encased in metal and often on slender chains.
Lastly, some of these gifts contained clockwork creatures: specifically, the ant-like creatures that had carried them here--Praetors and Cleaners both. They were of blue and gray metals, and glass: they were each perfect, and when wound, moved forward in graceful yet mechanical steps.
Each of these gifts was incredibly complex, beautiful to look upon, advanced beyond Origin's technology; each was a masterwork of sophisticated clockwork, an aesthetic perfection to each and every piece.
And each was, of course, perfectly and completely safe.