Archlurps

The Refugee, Chapter 3, part 2 of 2 By Archlurps on DeviantART The man was completely mesmerized by the contents of the casing. Despite numerous questions about the further makings of the cyborg, he only had attention for the wreck. Or body, whichever is more correct. The external features of the Quasimodo (a nickname I found all the more fitting, having learned it was a human) were uninteresting and I didn't dare go close to the reeking chest again, so turned back to the shack where Rack was sitting. The robot was truly fascinating. It seemed that it's legs were indeed powered mechanically by the motor through a complex system of gears, ch

The refugee, chapter three, part 1 of 2 By Archlurps on DeviantART The voice belonged to a scraggly lean man. He looked quite old with his gray head of hair and small, crooked, but surprisingly white teeth of which he had already lost a few. He grinned heartily while looking at the robots, so that his dry lips stretched and looked even more chapped than they probably were, and the corners of his eyes crincled like thin paper. Soon he turned and headed for the shack, walking with a slight hunch with his arms swinging far in front of him. He looked a bit like a primate with his bent posture. I heard him mutter something in a throaty grumble,

By Archlurps on DeviantART If I hadn't lost my count, that was the fifth one. three to go and his sternum would be hanging by the false ribs. Then with luck I could squish his heart. Cutting straight through is out of fashion nowadays. Besides, this brute had so much scar tissue I would've risked getting stuck. Ismal had been around long enough to build up dragonskin. Not only had he had the time, but he'd made the best of it. This was our third confrontation, and he'd fought many others much more often. Six. There's nothing quite like the shockwave of a cracking rib reverberating back towards your shoulder. Judging by the elasticity of the

The Meisterstück By Archlurps on DeviantArt Stepping onto the pier I still couldn't believe my luck. Even on the way to my destination, I was seated right behind the middle engine. The military had just adopted state of the art multi-engine trains. This one had three engines, one in the front and two along the way, with increasing amounts of cars in between. The middle engines I found most intriguing, although their regular rectangular car-shape was mostly cosmetic. The front one, too, would've had the same complicated valve gear spanning across not three, but five wheels. This system, several generations more advanced than any civilia

The Refugee, chapter two, part 2 of 2 By Archlurps on DeviantART As the hollow clicks sounded again, I wondered if the others were out of ammo as well. Somehow the chromed fingers suggested against it. And indeed, by the time the robot with the hydraulic arm had shaken off it's confusion, the others were returning it. The shotgun was apparently automatic, since I didn't see the robot pump it even though it spewed out several rounds per second. The insectoid had raised up a scorpion-like tail previously resting on it's back, which now turned out to be a machinegun not much smaller in calibre than the Quasimodo's thumper. It was still attache

The Refugee, chapter 1 By Archlurps on DeviantART If you find yourself in the vast deserts outside the citadels, you'll probably doubt if anything could ever survive there. You'd be easily excused; the barren, empty dunes have little to survive on, and you're not likely to see what few things do roam there. Still sometimes you may hear a rustle, a pneumatic or hydraulic puff, a clank or some other sound you might think a mechanically animated hunk of metal would make. Then you've only got your luck to trust, since you've probably come by a frenzy. Regardless of it's design, original purpose or age, alone and unequipped you won't be a match

The Refugee, chapter two, part 1 of 2 By Archlurps on DeviantART I didn't resist crying out in a mix of joy and pain, clinging on to the rough metal in a tight right turn between the dunes. Following the couple of seconds' euphoric delirium, it occurred to me that after a gentler left, I'd run out of dune. Presuming of  course the slope didn't extend until whatever's at the bottom of deserts. Well, this one anyways. Despite the fact that the creature I now know to call a frenzy had just only made it to the top of the dune, things weren't looking too bright for me. I leaned left to make the sled turn, franctically trying to think of somethin

Agité part 1 By Archlurps at DevianART There I was, standing on a rocky ledge above the sea, looking towards the always so gray horizon. Given my present state of mind, I could've been contemplating a jump. But that would've be too easy and pathetic. Whatever muck this life throws my way, I take, including the fact that this muck is all life seems to be.  And muck like that fishing village. I hate the sea. It's always wet, and the pungent smell of salt hangs  everywhere in the air. The sea defined the village. You could always hear or see it, always smell it and always feel it. The sea was never warm, but never froz