• Nobles of Null is a forum based roleplay site where sci-fi and magic collide. Here, Earth remains fractured and divided despite humanity reaching out to the stars. Worse still, the trans-human slaves of one major power have escaped, only to establish their own Empire, seething with resentment at abuses of the past. Even the discovery of aliens, though medieval in development, has failed to rally these squabbling children of Earth together with its far darker implications. Worse still, is the discovery of the impossible - magic. Practiced by the alien locals, nearly depleted and therefore rare, its reality warping abilities remains abstract and distant to the general populace. All the while, unseen in the darkness of space, forces from without threaten to press in. For those with eyes opened by insight, it is clear that an era is about to end, and that a new age will dawn.

Ursine Unit 1

NiceNecromancer

New member
Dark tangled wires reach down like vines. A thick oil drips into a pool of itself echoing a bass note through deep halls and empty warehouses. The frames of alien machines rest against the floor like tired animals all within painted lines indicating old organization systems. Large footsteps sound out in approach as one of Azathoth's large Combat Drones trotted from down the hall and into one of the gargantuan sized rooms. Towers of alien containers dominate the space inside creating a cityscape of abandoned Industry. This warehouse was close to the surface and the quadrupedal Combat Drones don't usually venture this close to the surface anymore but this one was tracking something. Its large singular eye bathes the room in an eerie crimson glow. Garbled electronic shrills came from its head set atop its elongated neck.

It was right to come here. It found what it was looking for.

As the Azathoth Drone bends its neck down to cross under a bridge of hollow metal. A robot about half its size awaits hidden inside. From the opened side of the container it drops on top of the Drone pinning it with strong, soft fiber actuated legs. Atop the legs a bulky form with hints of animalistic geometry to it and 2 weapons mounted by its sides far too damaged to use. With a powerful series of slams the bipedal robot crushes the lens of the Drones eye. It releases its hold and moves deeper into the stacks. The drone now blinded backs away from the bridge carefully. It navigates back to the entrance and attempts to charge out but the door is sealed. The crash reverberated in the warehouse and the sounds of processing started up again. That dim hum of noise accompanied by a hiss of gas from the cracked lens.

In a form of sight that escapes the biological, an inky sea of a world traced by illuminated geometric lines. The Drone conjures a polygon of data from its form and prepares to send it out. No doubt attempting to make a report or call distress.

Interrupting from above the sound of metal and ceramics rubbing on each other. One of the containers thuds on top of the Azathoth Drone ending it.

Atop the containers next to the door stood the bipedal robot. Its chassis has been worn down. Through the scratches and mud an old Daquin logo was painted right above the orb of sensors mounted on its chest. A bear silhouette wielding a vague knife shape in its teeth. Ursine Unit 1.
 
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