Deserted
"I may not have enough water, my friend."
His poor automaton companion, Bob, was beginning to clank and grind. Bob wasn't going to last much longer without some water, and Lucas knew that he was going to have to conserve it for himself.
Lucas stared out at the world and saw nothing but gold everywhere he turned: the gold of the sands and the gold of sunrise. What a hell of a night it had been. Damn unreliable things, dirigibles were, and weather had gotten the best of his journey out west.
What exactly did he expect to find out here?
He was heading out to the farthest post in Antiford. Farthest post of the known world to be honest, Barroh Camp. A few scientists and survivalists were out there in the middle of the Istoki desert.
It was because he couldn't decline a request for a robot. He didn't know when orders would come in, and money was always tricky with the business.
Unfortunately, he was probably much closer to hell than Barroh Camp or even White Haven.
His guide and pilot were both up at the cockpit when it crashed back to Orr, so he was alone with his creation out here.
He walked onwards to the east until happening upon a tiny ghost town. a few buildings here and there settled into the shade of a gigantic cliff face.
By the looks of it, there were some demon dwellings and large carvings of the moons deep in the rock. This must have been an early settlement. Most of the earliest settlements were established by taking over a Vibranni dwelling or a sacred spot. The bottom of every mural, however, was filled with horrible, malevolent faces. Perhaps the settlers were poking fun at the demons, but Lucas could not imagine living day in and day out near these carvings. They gave him chills.
Bob slouched over, and his eyes stopped glowing. His backpack slid off.
"Damn it. I really don't want to lug you around."
And so, Lucas threw his pack and Bob on his back the way one would carry a child. A half ton child.
He quickly found a house to spend the night and threw everything on the floor.
"The next automaton is definitely going to have some kind of wound clockwork. I can't always rely on water around here."
Indeed, the plans back at Buford Automata included just such plans.
He propped Bob up in one of the chairs and went looking for a bedroom. This house was really nice. Too nice. Why would anyone leave?
He undid his mechanical arm and placed it on the nightstand, along with goggles and coat. He crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep, worried about what tomorrow's journey may bring. Today was trying, but he knew the days ahead would be worse.
Fear
A low rumbling woke Lucas the next morning. He could hear the smashing of a pot or two and grotesque murmuring.
He groggily poked his head out the window.
Lucas froze in absolute terror as his eyes adjusted to the light, revealing his situation. This is why the town had no people: A massive throng of goblins had congregated and were masticating on their daily hunt's reward.
He never liked to panic, but this warranted exception. Lucas grabbed his belongings and carried them downstairs as quickly as he could. He shakily fastened and reconnected himself to his robotic appendage.
He scanned the room, heart thumping, for a clue of what to do. The door had a busted chain lock, so he went to the chair with Bob in it.
Lucas slowly lifted Bob, searing hot from the window's light, and placed him against the wall. The clank stopped his heart. He hoped his ears were the only ones to hear it.
He pushed the chair to the door ever so gently, wondering if the constant soft sound was worse than a quick loud one. He was overthinking in fear.
Lucas's chest burnt carrying Bob back over to ground the chair a bit more.
He crawled into the kitchen to see about securing the rest of the place. The constant threat of goblins was a stress bringing him nearly to tears.
A broom was able to secure both the back door and its window. He grabbed the small table and placed it against the living room's window. Thankfully, windows weren't too abundant in desert dwellings, or this may have proved impossible.
He went upstairs to peek out at the horrible scene. The goblins were now in a queue to bring food somewhere, not an orderly thing mind you. In fact, several attempts at cutting the line resulted in a brawl, and in one case, a cannibalistic snack for one.
Lucas's mouth was now like sandpaper, and he wasn't sure how much of his shaking was from hunger, thirst, or fear. He passed out curled up in the cupboard under the closet.
Desperation
His dreams were filled with nightmare and dread, and he awoke with a heart-pounding gasp of fright.
It was freezing even in the confined space below the stairs. To open the door was to invite a cold he rarely knew. His garbs intended to defeat the heat were now being placed on him to keep it.
He warmed his hands and looked out the second story window. The night air was still and the town was again abandoned.
His pangs of thirst were physically painful, and he decided to risk reconnaissance. He needed to find water.
He unblocked the back door and ventured on. Around, towards where the monsters were delivering their offerings, he went. Perhaps they were storing it all.
A noise caused Lucas to duck into a home for a moment. A jar full of murky water lay there. He drew breath and desperately cupped water from his palms past his cracking lips. It felt so good, but caused him to hack a little.
Continuing on, he came upon the end of the foot traffic, clearly visible in the moons' light.
There was a temple that he recognized as fjordan. The grand temple was built right into the side of the cliff, which is probably where all these goblins have been coming in and out of. The more he thought about it, the more it disturbed him. They must have been in the middle of building this place of worship when goblins came from the other side of the digging. The early settlers didn't know too much about the goblins back then.
A shrill cry, a pained howling was quietly emanating from the inside.
"Hello? Is someone in there? Are you hurt?" Lucas asked as his heart sunk back into his chest.
The large doors were already wide open and intimidating. Small steps, and he could just make out something amidst a treasure trove of dead creatures, shrubbery and pots of water. He drew closer to the movement.
Adrenaline kicked in when he stepped on a pan and awoke the sufferer. A goblin queen, massive and bursting with pregnant mass opened her eyes and screamed such a blood-curdling sound that would haunt Lucas forever. He turned tail and stumbled out to the town.
A rumble was approaching, and he was it's target. The shrieking continued on and on.
Lucas grabbed the murky water from earlier and sprinted into the house.
Vicious Goblins could be heard now much closer.
He blocked the back door again and poured a good deal of the water into Bob's chest. He ran to get matches to reignite the slumbering mechanoid in Lucas' time of need.
He could hear the doors of nearby houses being smashed and trampled on.
The shrieking continued.
Behind Bob's chair, a scratching and clawing began. Lucas smacked the igniter now, no longer afraid to be found.
Glass shattered and the table by the window slammed to the ground. He rushed to the table and slammed in into the face of a goblin trying to climb in.
He held it there as he watched Bob sputter and start.
The back door gave way, and Lucas yelled in uncontrollable fear.
Bob whirred alive, his eyes glowing with the spark of life. he moved to a feral stance, ready for the apparent danger.
Lucas moved the table, against his back, once more to the window and made a break for the stairs. A goblin cut him off from the other room and Lucas gave him a strong metal right hook.
Bob chased after, swinging his fluid appendages about him. That broke the stairs behind them. This inconvenienced—but did not discourage—the horde.
Lucas ran to climb out the window and onto the roof.
A goblin jumped from the cliff above the dwelling and pinned him to the roof. Lucas raised his robotic arm up to shield him from the goblin's clawing.
Bob swung up to the roof and, clutching the goblin with his legs, wailed on the attacker. Buford's arm was only minimally operational now, many of the cables snapped by the beast.
Bob's flame was starting to fail, though he was ready to defend.
Flee
Lucas stood, his legs weak from beating and running, preparing himself for a futile fight. He pumped a lever on Bob's side to keep the flames lit.
A few beasts managed to climb on to the roof, though Bob swung easily to send them flying back.
The worrisome thing was the sheer
amount of Goblins now surrounding the building. They were climbing over each other to get at the goblin queen's attacker and possible meal.
The shrieking stopped and nearly half of the swarm went off to tend to it's absence. The sun was rising, and the goblins were losing interest, shuffling away tend to their wounds. This was not their normal behaviour.
Smaller shrieks, those of newborns, filled the air.
This was a rare opportunity to escape and Lucas would not waste it. "Let's make haste away from this absolute nightmare, friend."
They managed their way down with surprising success. There were still a dozen or so Goblins left, hoping to feed on them, but Bob managed to clear most of the way. They wasted no time looking behind them as they fled for the sands. East, always head east, towards civilization.
Lucas broke his hand beyond repair trying to fend off the tenacious predators. He looked at his disfigured prosthetic and decided it was best not to let it slow him down. He'd have to build a completely new one when he got back in any case.
They made it to the edge of White Haven, and Lucas collapsed. Some locals found them and called an amberlamps.
As he was being whisked away to the hospital he thought to himself, still trying to come to terms with what happened. Did he dare attempt reaching Barroh Camp again?
No. Not without some preparations, both technologically and emotionally.