Ancientrodentianbeavers
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The Wonders of the Ancient Beavers
As Recorded by Boril Tummywhisker
Sunnyspring 1348, Travelers Log: 112
In my journeys through the Cowlstone mountains I once came upon a massive altar. It was three feet in length, and had large wooden pillars on either side which had petrified from countless years exposed to the blaring sun and dry weather that was to predictable in the region. In my examination of the altar I made one wrong step, and fell through a hole that�d been covered by rubble.
Recovering, and rubbing the dust from my eyes, I glared around the dark room. A beam of light crept through the gap above, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I realized just how massive this place was that I�d discovered. Three tunnels expanded to my North, East, and West. To my South was what at first appeared to me a chasm, but on closer inspection was a terrace that descended for what seemed like yards! Large buildings protruded from the terraces, built of the same petrified wood as the pillars above.
Boril Tummywhisker
Sunnyspring 1348, Travelers Log: 113
It�s been a day or two now since I found these caverns. I�ve yet to find a way out of here, but it�s definitely created some interesting opportunities to explore what no other hamster has ever seen!
The other day I explored the path to my East, which produced interesting findings. Massive insects stood in the hallway, twitching but never minding me. Their movements seemed awkward, and a disturbing clicking noise caused a sudden realization for me. Yes, they where insects once, but no more. I inspected the inactive corpse of one of these insects to verify my logic, and sure enough, the insides this beetle where missing, replaced with massive gears which looked to be made of the wood that was so commonly used here.
Who built these massive beasts?
Boril Tummywhisker
Ancient Secrets
"This was beaver-gnawn," the mole said, her voice thick with emotion. Her voiced echoed around the tall chamber. Once-bright dyes languished in the wan light cast by one of the mole's many gadgets. Her every move sent shadows skipping about, the alien ruts and folds of the thatch walls, floor, and ceiling at war with one's eyes.
"Lady," said the rat that towered over his charge, "I don't care if ze Gottkatze himself used zis for a toothpick. Ve are vay over our time limit."
"Stark," came a whisper to the rat's ears, made thin and dreamlike as it glided upon the aether. "We need to leave. Now."
Stark reached across the mole's roundness to pluck the smooth wooden blade from its display case. It felt warm to the touch, as if it had been left in the sun all day. Stark pushed his inquisitive thoughts to the side; if Terra said it was time to go, the situation was not good. He tucked the long blade, a long-handled longsword, into his bright blue and yellow sash.
Stark shoved the mole into the coridoor, his greatsword in one of his hands, the other gripping the waddling burrower by the voluminous hood that so many of them wore. There was a brief moment of resistance, but the she-mole could tell by Stark's silence that now was not the time for words.
Shadows seemed to pool throughout the beaver ruins. Stark paused at the massive double doors, each twice again the height of an adult rat on hindleg, to listen and look. Terra had been posted as lookout, her herb-laced scent still lingered, but he could see no sign of the pika. Then Stark realized with a start that the clockwork guardians that had flanked the tomb's doors were no longer at their posts.
"Katzenfutter," Stark swore as he hefted his greatsword. He turned to the she-mole, already drawing her Springbox from the folds of her cloak. "Be ready to run on my signal."
The mole nodded quickly, her attention focused on the delicate calibrations of her clockwork weapon. Stark crouched low and left the safety of the shadows, making an agonizingly slow beeline for another pool of darkness that had gathered at the foot of a massive pillar. Stark moved faster than he knew he should, but urgency and fear made it hard for him to focus. He reached the pillar's shadow and quickly motioned for the mole to follow. Creeping along in an odd three-legged gait, the she-mole's head kept scanning all around, alert for pressure plates and triplines.
Halfway to the pillar, the world erupted. From the darkness of the ceiling came a sudden clatter of oaken gears. Stark and the mole looked up in shock to see the constructs clinging to the temple's roof. As soon as his brain realized what was happening, Stark's world seemed to slow. One of the constructs disengaged its segmented wooden claws from the roof, succumbing to gravity's pull with alien grace. Stark was already moving, rushing to the she-mole to push her to the safety of the tomb's doors. The construct landed with a quiet clatter of wooden cogs in a two-legged crouch, its claws clicking menacingly. It's arm reared back in a lazy motion, an almost comically casual gesture.
The claw rushed forward, but was intercepted at the last minute by Stark's greatsword. He had thrown it in a half-arc like a clumsy spear, and had managed to lodge it within the mechanical monstrosity's wrist gears. His stride unbroken, he lunged for the mole as he felt the other claw miss his head by a whiskerswidth. He curled around the mole, his back impacting the ground in an ugly but functional roll. He powered through the spin, ending up in a leaping sprint down the length of the hall.
The other construct had landed by now, giving chase while its wounded twin worked the greatsword from its wrist joint. Stark spared himself a backward glance, and realized with horror that a small, dun shape was cradled, child-like, in the pursuing construct's left claw. The shape lolled sickeningly, and Stark caught a glimpse of blood-matted fur. Stark felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.
The snap of clockwork near his ear brought him back to the real world. The mole, having twisted around in Stark's grip, had managed to fire a double volley of spinning gears from her Springbox. The two projectiles whined as they tore through the air, but were blocked by the advancing construct's free arm.
He heaved with all of his might, throwing the she-mole left into the shadows of a pillar, while simultaneously twisting in the air to lunge to the right. The construct swipped at Stark, but its momentum threw the swing wide. The mole landed with a grunt of pain, but quickly set about reloading her weapon.
Stark rolled with the rough leap and found his feet. The beaver-gnawn weapon seemed to spring unbidden into his hand. He felt the weapon's warmth grow, spreading down his arm until it suffused his entire being. The construct holding Terra had spun in midair, reversing direction with startling speed, while its companion bore down on the two rodents from the other side.
Stark leapt for the construct clutching Terra, powering a two-handed swing to meet its down-swinging claw. He felt only mild surprise as its oaken claw gave like paper to his puissant blade. Stark spun in a tight circle, bringing his blade to meet the construct's midsection. As he twirled he saw the second construct clutching at its neck, two red-hot copper gears stuck there, quickly charing and fusing its delicate inner workings.
The two halves of Stark's opponent clattered down about him as he landed, his back to the battle. He swung about immediately, ready to face any surviving machines, but both had been disabled. Clutching the wooden blade in his paw, Stark rushed forward to where Tarra lay motionless, still caged in the construct's claw. With a flick of his wrist the claws were chopped neatly away. Stark knealt, a hesitant hand nearing Terra's stll form. With a quick prayer he placed a paw to the pika's neck, and loosed his held breath when he felt her heart beating.
He gathered his partner's unconscious form into his free arm. He stood, seeing the she-mole emptying a full clip of gears into the head of the nearby construct. She looked from Terra to Stark, the question plain on her face.
"She lives," Stark said breathlessly.
The mole nodded, glad but still grim-faced. She quickly slotted another gear case into her Springbox and took point.
"There will be more," she said.
Stark gripped his beaver-gnawed blade tight, feeling its warmth pulse through him in time with his heart.
"Ve can make it," Stark said.
