CRASH!

A monolithic sword fell from the sky, piercing the ground and drawing a fierce barrage of lightning to it. On the ground beneath the towering sword walked a lone figure. Periodically, the figure would raise his left arm to the skies and draw down another monolith. He had no intention of following the path; Kale always preferred a straight path and he was stubborn enough to make it happen.

Carrying on this way was likely to draw attention and exactly what he hoped for. The man had come with a purpose; rumors of a deity with a mastery of lost technology. It was a god so of course Kale assumed there’d be a steep cost, but depending on what it was it might just be worth paying to get his arm back. The thought pushed him forward as he lifted his hand the the sky once more. His hand sparked and more monolithic blades pierced the dark clouds above and lined a path all his own, ultimately leading to the temple.

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At the entrance loomed a door with neither hinge nor handle. Strange white jade indicated the entry, patterns and various carvings had been inlaid with what looked to be steel brought curious look to Kale’s face. It was, after all, a very odd choice of metal, but gods never made much sense to him… even given his past. One had even begun a war and genocide over a taunt, but that was as good as another life. Looking about brought Kale to a plaque instructing visitors to enter of their will, but he couldn’t help thinking of whether that had ever needed to be said. The man shook his head and placed his one hand against the door to push, but found the door soon splitting apart and opening on its own. Perhaps he’d come to the right place after all.

Kale now stood in a large hall, lit brightly though the source eluded his gaze. The hall burned momentarily as his eyes adjusted from the darkness beyond the door. The arches and walls were made of a mixture of white marble and something he couldn’t identify, but it was certainly an interesting mix. He’d have to ask about that material once his business was concluded. There were strange statues, figures might be more appropriate, armed donned with armor and wielding weapons of various types; each soldier stood on detailed carved stands that lined the hall itself.

The man pushed his way through the hall to its end, finding himself in yet another hall lined with a great many doors. “Blast it all,” he said aloud, “Why can’t this god be like the others and have their stupid throne up front. How am I supposed to find the damn thing?” The thought occurred to him that he’d never had a throne, but rather more of an office. Kale scratched at his head and thought for a moment.

Bringing his hand to his mouth he called, “Is any one here? Hello?”

All was quiet in Serenitas as Shiloh was at her workdesk. No sounds of scribbling or fussing, no tossing of failed plans on the floor. Her face was plastered on the surface cleared away of papers, hair draping over. It was the routine 'crash' that happened following several months of working straight without sleep. One moment she would be wide awake–then she would be out like a light. Sometimes she'd be unconscious for hours, other times days. The tinny buzzing of an alarm forced her awake signalling something was wrong with the lightning towers. The electricity that was supposed to be channeled in wasn't entering at the usual rate. Pushing off the desk she pulled on a waterproof cloak and rubber resin gloves, preparing for a soggy maintenance. It better not be those rogue golems attacking the tower bases lining Via Fulminis. 

Shiloh's mind was so preoccupied that she didn't realize the presence of a stranger until she was already in the Marble Corridor. Emerging out of a portal a little ways behind the man, he was the first thing she saw looking up. With no mask or disguise the deity narrowed her eyes and raised her voice. "Hey you! Who are you and what are you doing in here?" Crossing her arms she looked him over with a scrutinizing glare. She didn't recognize him just yet. With all the clean-up and aftermath of the battle of Apoy, most details before and after were hazy. She'd met a dozen new faces in such a short span of time that keeping them straight was out of the question. 

Would you memorize a bunch of strangers you only met for a few minutes and likely would never see again? Of course not. And having just woken up in the middle of a power nap left her disoriented, groggy, and disgruntled. Most people visiting stayed in the Entrance Hall; that's what it was for. Going past that would lead to the endless loop of the Marble Corridor. Unless you knew where you wanted to go you'd be walking in circles. 

Kale turned at the sound, though the last time he’d heard the familiar voice it was emanating from a metal humanoid construction. A look of shock washed over his face; what were the odds that he’d run into this yet-named woman once again. “Oh, it’s Tree-girl,” he said a bit confused, “I know we’ve met a few times and I still don’t know your name, but just how many one armed pirates do you run across in this world? How many of them do you leave in an unknown alley with a bloodied sack containing the head of warg?”

Glancing about for a moment, he decided it was best to not wander about further as he’d had enough bad experiences doing so before. Instead, he turned back to the woman sizing him up and spoke, “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course. It was pretty lucky to find a familiar face. Is there any chance you might be able to point me to the deity here? I’ve got something I’d like to talk with them about.”

Looking about further, Kale found words etched into steel above the doors, while he didn’t understand the meaning behind many of them, Hall of Thunder seemed formal enough to be a throne room, although with his run of luck in this world it was equally as likely to quite literally be a hall of thunder. None the less, he pressed his hand to one of the large steel doors and pushed.

Immediately, his nose was assaulted by the smell of dust and he soon found himself sneezing at the mass of gray powder his actions had disturbed. It took a while, but he finally managed to get a hold of himself as most of the dust settled back to the shadows. The room was covered in such a thick layer of dust that one could leave a trail. Stepping forward, Kale left an impression of his foot for a moment before the dust scattered and distorted the shape. The only source of light in this room seemed to come solely from the domed window high above. At the center, covered in a layer of dust just as thick as the floor if not thicker, stood a howlite throne. Despite the ornate carvings and care taken in the creation of the room, it was apparent that this place saw no use. In a way, it reminded Kale of his former life; a seat of divine power left empty.

“Well,” he said with a smirk as he turned away from the throne to exit the chamber, “Whoever this deity is, I like them already.”

She pulled her lips into a thin line as he started asking who was in charge here, recognizing him half a step faster than the past times they met. Just her luck…of course he'd find his way here. Why wouldn't he find his way here? How in the convoluted signs of the stars did some person she crossed paths with on a job happen to come to the Machinarium–specifically looking for her? He must have had some place in mind, as the Marble Corridor responded by leading the way to the Hall of Thunder. "Hey! Hey where are you going?!" Before she could warn him, he went in and a cloud of dust puffed out from the open door followed by hacking and wheezing. Standing outside, she loudly sighed as she waited for him to get out. Her mood brightened up at his wry remark. "Congratulations, you're one of the few people to head straight to that place on their first visit. Actually you're the first person to head straight there on your first visit. If you weren't in such a hurry I could've warned you not to open it without a mask on." 

There was no point dragging this guessing game out for an longer. "Lucky for you, the person in charge is here today. Alright, what do you want?" There was a pause as she assumed he'd gotten the message. "…You were asking for me, right?" Yes, she was the deity in charge of this place unfortunately. Dressed up in a resin poncho with rubber boots and gloves she hardly looked the part of some being granted station by a higher power. But tough luck, that was who the Voice picked so that was what they got. If they wanted all the bells and whistles of divine power they should've gone north up to Adraejen's. This was a workplace not an enchanted amusement park. The humming of machines and hammering of metal echoed in the distance. Noticing the one-armed man was tracking dust into the Corridor, she took out a broom and started sweeping it up. Waving her hand a little a light breeze blew off the rest. Her control over magic wasn't the best, so it was a fifty-fifty chance of Kale being hit by a breeze or a gale.

And if this situation wasn't strange enough already, she was putting the collected dust back into the hall it came from like it belonged there. Why bother having a room that never gets used, one might ask? It was more of a joke from Shiloh's perspective, something she thought up when the Machinarium first took form. Everybody thought deities sat on their high thrones looking down on people, so she made it an empty useless shell of what most expected. If they wanted to find her, she would be anywhere but here. That was the irony of it all.

A confused gaze fell on Shiloh; the one-armed man couldn’t believe his stroke of luck. “You are the deity? Well, what luck; it seems I already have some foundation,” Kale exclaimed with a grin, “I’ve come seeking a favor, though be aware I’ve found myself on the chopping block after making deals with deities before and I’ve no intention of finding myself there once again.” As he said this, he nodded towards the missing arm and empty sleeve and couldn’t help but smirk at his own pun.

Kale looked about the hall, taking in the sounds of metal and hammers colliding accompanied by a constant hum similar to that of the proxy he’d last met. “I take it the rumors are true then,” his icy blue eyes fell on the woman before him once more as he continued, “That you, the deity of storms and strange machines, can rebuild lost technology?” He paused a moment to contemplate the best course of action. “Is there somewhere we might talk? I’d like to talk about what I hope might be an interesting project.”

He’d just been thinking about some place they might talk more in depth when a door opened within the hall, though nobody entered. From what Kale could see, beyond the door was a room filled with trade tools, pipes, steam, and endless bits intermingling as they turn to perform some unknown function. Kale couldn’t help himself and drifted inside, oblivious to the wind magic used to sweep the dust back into the joke room.

Fascination took hold and the one-armed pirate wandered through. Furnaces roared with hot flames that filled the room with heat while pipes rose and twisted throughout the vast room. “This must be the workshop,” he said to himself aloud as he wandered. There seemed to be stations set up for nearly any craftwork that could be thought of, a good number of which Kale knew nothing about. This was truly turning out to be well worth the trip, regardless of the woman’s answer.

Kale’s focus snapped back to his reasons for seeking this fantastical place and he turned back and leaned against an empty table nearby. “Yes, right,” he said, “Let me get straight to the point. I was hoping you might build me a new arm. Looking about this place and taking that thing you used back on Apoy, I’d feel very comfortable putting my trust in you.” He paused a brief moment before adding, “Even if we still don’t know each other’s names.”

"I personally don't prefer being paid in body parts, in case you're wondering." She quipped dryly at his own mention of how he lost his arm. "Souls are also not an universally quantifiable form of currency." If she didn't need it, she didn't want it. He mentioned he wanted to ask her to make something for him, and by now she figured it would at least be interesting. Anybody who appreciated the Centipede Digger had a certain level of good taste for machinery. The one-armed man moseyed over to one of Antikythera's many workshops, taking in the sights of her steam-powered designs and ever-burning smelting furnaces. It was like a kid wandering into a toy shop; she didn't blame him for taking his time. "This must be the workshop." He said. "One of them, yeah." She answered back. The thought of whether he was even talking to her at this point never crossed her mind. With the little sightseeing trip over for now, they were back on topic. Straight to the point, he told her he wanted a new arm. A bold request, but not something she'd refuse. All this time Shiloh had been thinking about the possibility of making more realistic mechanical limbs.

"A new arm huh? I've always wanted to try replicating one of the most complex motor systems in the human body." Rubbing her hands together it was clear she was enjoying the thought of making something that the world had never seen up until now. "I'm not agreeing or denying anything yet. First, I'm going to need you to strip–everything above the belt needs to come off." She had a good reason for it, rest assured. If she was going to make an exact replica, she needed to have a look at Kale's remaining arm as well as the spot where the other one used to be. Once his entire upper body was disrobed she would begin inspecting his arm in great detail. Testing its range of motion, memorizing the placement of its muscles, the way they flexed and tensed beneath the skin. Also minor details to make it appear more lifelike, imperfections and marks to simulate a limb made of flesh and bone. The socket of the missing arm was clean. He wasn't kidding when he said he was missing the arm. Everything was gone–no amputated parts left behind. Standing back at a distance she stared at the spot deep in thought. Attaching the finished product was going to be a problem, unless…

Yes, that would work. Instead of a physical bond that might cause long-term damage to the rest of his body, utilizing a more subtle way would fix everything. "Alright, I've run an estimate for the amount of work this'll take and I'd say about three to four months, minimum. Making the arm'll be no problem, but before I start on the framework I'll need a little something from you." Taking out a small thin dagger and an empty flask, she set them on the table. "If my design is going to work, it'll require a few ounces of your blood. This'll improve the overall function of the finished product." If he had any questions, this would probably be the best time to ask before she got things rolling.

The deity before him seemed to muse over the idea of recreating a living limb, seeming to take glee as she mentioned the complexities of human anatomy. The woman had even begun to rub her hands together as though relishing the idea of getting to craft such a unique thing. She did, however, make it clear that she had agreed to nothing and hadn’t yet decided whether to take on Kale’s request.

“That’s reasonable,” Kale said as he slipped a coat off his arm and back, “You can’t know the extent of the work without seeing the damage, I guess.” With his left hand, he fumbled at his shirt, managing to undo and slide the shirt off as he’d done with the coat. As the shirt fell away, what most would think a strange sight was revealed.

The man’s flesh was marred by scars left by his life as an urchin and then pirate; the scars stood as reminders of his reckless nature. A large scar was left  spanning most of his chest; it started  below the left shoulder and ended just below his ribs on the opposite side. There were marks where arrows and knives had long ago pierced flesh, including a mark left from when Kale had ripped a bolt from his shoulder. Most of these wounds hadn’t been treated with skill or care, though some were less prominent and had obviously been cared for… though not by Kale himself. Most notably, his right shoulder and chest was clear of scars save for the marks of a lightning strike. His branching from his right shoulder, a spiderweb of scars stretched out across his chest before disappearing just at his heart. As for the missing arm itself, it had been a clean cut by Death; there wasn’t a trace of the arm remaining to be found.

“My blood,” he questioned with a raised brow, “You’ll need my blood. Just what do you need my blood for? You know what, that’s fine. Take it, then, but please don’t lose it. The last thing I need is someone else getting a hold of this.” He held out his hand, the blade darting from the table into his open hand. Kale placed the blade carefully between his teeth before repeating the motion, causing the flask to hover before him… All in all, the man was probably making it far more complicated than it needed to be. “Say when,” he tried to say without cutting his mouth on the blade before running his palm across the knife and squeezing over the flask. Red blood dripped out from the cut, sparking with an electricity on par with that found in a storm. When he’d provided enough blood, the knife set itself back on the table while Kale did his best to tie up his hand with a white linen that had appeared from a small portal.

As he finished pulling a knot tight using his teeth, he asked, “So assuming  you decide to help me, what will this cost me? I don’t have much these days, not that I assume deities have much need of money.”

Scars, a whole lot of them were all over him. You could draw up a map based on the mars in his flesh. From his personality he looked like the type to get himself into scrapes often. You didn't get this many from working a standard occupation or having accidents. Shiloh herself would have had several scars of her own too, if it weren't for how quickly her body patched itself up. That was one of her few saving graces despite her awful luck–having regeneration and a hardier constitution to make up for it. What did catch her eye was the unusual scar on his chest, spreading out and branching across like the roots of a tree. This one definitely didn't come from a weapon with how thin and clean the scar was. No raggedness whatsoever. She might ask about it some other time. When she asked for his blood, she was half expecting him to refuse. Most people would, after all would you willingly hand over some of your blood to a total stranger? But he didn't. Apparently he was just fine with bleeding a little, though what she saw next definitely raised her eyebrow.

"Ok that's good. I don't need a lot, just enough to have it work." She said, eyeing the sparks coming from the crimson fluid. Capping the flask she was very careful in making sure she didn't drop it, and risk losing the most vital component of the prototype. While he patched himself up she observed the blood's properties, swirling it within the glass. Being non-conductive the glass was able to hold it just fine but it was starting to warm up on the surface. Now all bandaged up, the man called her over to discuss the details of payment. It took her a few seconds to think things over. Usually she already had a specific form of payment in mind that she'd take from her client. With all things considered, she figured this one was more or less paid. "Actually, I think you've already given me everything I'd ask for in this sort of situation. How about this; you and I form a casual business relationship. Since you've gotten a favor from me, you owe me one in the near future. You scratch my back, I scratch yours–right? I mean, not everybody volunteers for an experiment without asking about the details in full first. And thanks to this here-" She held up the flask of his blood. "-I'll be able to try a little something I've been wanting to test for a while now." 

Still, there were formalities and basic procedures that had to be done to consider it a deal. Pulling out a magic parchment from a small portal she wrote up a short concise document detailing the exchange between them, also mentioning the part of waiving legal responsibility for using his blood on any necessary procedures used to make said arm replacement. Below it clearly stated that she agreed to make the prosthetic for him in return for his assistance and or cooperation should she need it, in the near future. There were blanks where he would sign his name and a spot for a drop of his blood, ensuring that he signed the agreement out of his own volition. "Here, take your time and read this. If you don't have any other questions or concerns, sign your name in the blank spots on the paper. Then we'll be done."  

The terms of the deal caused Kale to raise an eyebrow. “A business relationship,” Kale questioned, “An unspecified favor to be determined at a later point?” He considered a moment; the ways this could go horribly wrong were limitless and needed to be considered. The woman produced a contract for the pirate to sign and he gladly took the chance to think further.

The document was relatively straightforward, raising no real questions of note… Though it did finally reveal the woman’s name. It seemed Shiloh was accustomed to contracts and, coupled with her mention of a business relationship, it was an easy conclusion    to draw that she was likely well versed in the finer points of trade as well. This could prove useful once Kale finally managed to get himself back to a life of piracy; if the two shared information and collaborated, his own actions could further whatever trade ambitions the goddess had of her own. The realization brought a smirk to his face and he signed the agreement.



“A rather interesting idea occurs to me,” he spoke with a sly tone, “Perhaps this casual business relationship might be more beneficial than even you realize, if trade is your game of choice. That, however, we can save for another discussion. I’m sure it will be quite a pleasure working with you.” He put his hand out to shake hers. Kale had the feeling this was the start of a new chapter.