The World's Calling

At the top of the canyon that made up Waning Rock, Lucia’s temporary office space sat overlooking the interior. One last time, she looked outward to a collection of shining minerals glittering within a massive cavern. As the sky shifted from a cosmic black to the burgeoning red of morning, the shine of those materials guided the way outwards from the chasm for the group of would-be teamsters. A sip from a cup of lemonade, made by hand. She'd consider this one of the top 12 posts, with plenty of views to back it up. Might even build a cabin near here one day. But right now wasn't the time for that, now was the time to head out. By the time she came to check up on the group and their makeshift encampment, Hartland was already sitting beside them, a man on one shoulder and holding a feline Animalia by the scruff of their neck, to their embarrassment.

"Like I said, dude, I'm just strong like that."

As he finished that statement, he looked at Lucia with a smile on his face.

Diamo sauntered up to Lucia with a pat on her back. "Truly, he is the people's champion, isn't he?"

At this point, a competition was going on regarding who could heft the makeshift blade of Vig. As Rhys stepped up to the plate and squatted, she couldn't help but laugh as she, a few beast-kin, and even the red-eyed mech tried and failed to lift the steel sword.

Led by Hartland, Lucia, and Diamo, the group was led from the canyon and hiked their way outward, moss underfoot only barely keeping their footsteps from echoing with a light stream beside them.

Each member of the training force was split into either Diamo or Lucia, with Hartland at the head of both of them. As Lucia and Diamo looked out among their wards, Diamo was the one to break the ice, turning around with a flourish.

"Hickshaw’s been good for development within the Spheres, heavy metals and wood and the like. Since they haven’t reported back in a while, the heads of the Union sent us to make sure they aren’t dead or getting held up by bandits. So cuz we need to test all of you, and this was also on the docket; y'all will act as a backup force in case we have to start squaring off." With a smirk, he glanced out at his ragged audience. "So if you aren’t up for bloodshed, find your nearest meatshield."

Lucia quickly cut off the train of thought as she spoke without turning around.

"Don’t worry about him. Fighting isn’t going to be one of your main responsibilities. Though it wouldn’t hurt to get you some form of self-defense." The tone was an attempt at humor though that attempt was less than fulfilling. "Anyway, once we get to Hickshaw, we’ll send our report over the radios. As long as you keep the pace, we’ll get there in no time."

The words of the heads were truthful but ultimately unable to cut through the existing tension within the group. Each of the trainees believed that simply showing up would result in their employment being inked, or, in the worst case, rejected with no room for interpretation. Instead, the common feeling was that they were being led on by the Union to act as pack horses for free labor. Some were even starting to wonder what the benefits of this whole thing even were. Sure, it was known that Union members were a bit above the rest when it ultimately came to resources and connections, but was this even worth it? Not to mention that while the use of groupings was set by the team leads, that did not stop informal groupings from appearing on their own, with the Animalia and Mechanoids setting the hardest boundaries. While some of it may simply be racial familiarity, some of it came due to unspoken tension due to their interactions during the initial Mechanoid… for lack of a better term, "overreaction," during their initial meetings.

The Animalia were a race of anthropomorphic creatures; each one had a humanoid stance, but their biology was vastly different from that of humans. Their bodies were more compact, and muscular, leaving very little room for body fat. The majority of them were Rabbits and Hares, with some Canines fitting in with the rest. Some of the larger ones however were made up of Badgers and Wolves, as well as a Sun Bear hovering over them who seemed to take great pleasure in the name Janice. The quicker among these beings would refer to themselves as their world’s "Apex of the Mind." The laymen among them would rather refer to themselves as the "Smart-Big" generation. When asked if there were other generations, the only answer would be that there were "two lesser forms," and that would be the end of that discussion for fear of breaking some sort of taboo. At this moment, some of the more opinionated members were discussing their current situation as well as their current representative. A rabbit was the first to mention it. brown in fur color with a long nose to match.

"Ivy seems to be in good spirits, doesn’t she?" mentioned the lagomorph offhandedly. In response, a red wolf seemed to take an unceremonious opposing stance to this view.

"As old as she is, it's better than being a spirit herself. We'll be burying her in a few hundred years, won't we", she added in a thorny way. Another rabbit, more of a generic rabbit brown, raised his forearm in response to this bit of insulting.

"Well, that seems unfair, doesn’t it? Ivy's led us right so far. Sides, age doesn’t really concern the likes of her."

"Right Sap-sipper, and we’re gonna listen to one who almost got de-pawed from a stray knife. You wanna bend over backward and give one of the humies your foot as well?"

"Oh, shove off! I bet your teeth are as dull as your head!"

"You shove off!"

While the insults grew heated and the shoving contest seemed to spread to the rest of the group, the matter never seemed to grow out of a weird familial dispute, although none of them seemed to be family. Though that did not stop the otherwise obvious split between those with fangs and those that didn’t.

On the other side with the Mechanoids, the conversations were… less than legible. Sounds and beeps of various orders were exchanged by the Mechanoids. Some reached around 7 feet, their various chassis rusted and dented, while some of the newer ones had cleaner, thinner outside hulls that seemed just as durable. While the older models were made with more physical ideals in mind, their movement was less graceful and features were less sculpted as their hands were more made to lift and push than anything, while their newer counterparts were much more humanoid. Neon glows and a built-in coolant system that forwent the clankier parts of their bulkier relatives. Shoa himself seemed to be the oddest mixture of the two, A head that was too square to be human, but a black screen mimicked the face, and the skull appeared too round to be truly square. While their conversation appeared to be lively, it was incomprehensible to anyone but them.

Rhys and the humans, however, were truly only human. Two legs, two arms, and the works. Their allegiances were less static than the others, though. While the Mechanoids were less than friendly in their encounters, responding to their invites to a conversation with the same enthusiasm as a service worker feigning politeness, the Animalia accepted them with the same playful and rough energy though their fears were not quelled simply by their acceptance. Rhys looked around her group and noticed that the best among them were dressed in whatever print they could find in some long-abandoned storage container, while the worst were dressed in rags sewn together by thread and dreams. Rhys could only feel disappointment in comparison to the Beastkin's sparse clothing and the sheen of the clankers, and took it as a reminder to get (or steal) a suit at a later date.

Nearing a river, they set up their encampment. Fishing and water boiling took place as Lucia took the time to set up the requisite waste pits and water pitches while Diamo took the time to compete with Janice over fishing. The reason he was shirtless during the act was more a matter of personal pride, which few others shared. Simple tents were built for the humans and some for the Mechanoids most concerned with rust and tear, while a good chunk of the Animalia simply lumped themselves together in groupings, with the more carnivorous ones being separate from the herbivores. As each group seemed to settle down for the night, only Hartland, Rhys, and Shoa remained at the fire. As the fire began to die down, Hartland threw a branch into it and uttered a strange word.

"Grow."

In an instant, petals grew despite the flames enveloping them. Branches grew and flowers bloomed only to be consumed by the fires. A whistle was let out by Rhys in response.

"Damn. I gotta learn to do that."

"Ah. Lucia told me that you were interested in magic. I could teach you my basics if you're interested."

"Hell, sure. "If it means growing plants and lifting boulders, then I'll listen to whatever you gotta say, dude."

"Heh, it won't be that easy." "If you start now, you should be able to take a concussion or two without brain damage, but nothing major."

"Then when's the part where I shoot fire out of my hands or start flying?"

"Well, that's a long way off. I know how to do this cause I get what it means to improve. Magic and Ability are just how you understand what you want to do. I worked out a lot before all this so I knew what it meant to get "stronger." Then I moved from there. Same with the flowers." Hartland looked over the woman in front of him. "You don't have wings and I don't see airports being built anytime soon.

The head of Shoa glanced over at the two of them. " Airports. Big facilities where humans used to fly in planes. "

A small smile greeted the robot's definition. "Yup. Been getting harder to find people who've ever seen one in person."

Confusion soon found its way onto Rhys' face, until it resolved itself in shock. "You're before the Crash? How old are you, man?"

A similar interest seemed to find its way to Shoa as well. "You have the look of a human who most certainly would have been born here. That must place you at least-"

A hand was put up to cut him off. "Let's not get into that. My age has no bearing on my ability, so don't worry. I've been here for a long while and I'm gonna stay here for a long while. That's that."

"That's right, Tinhead! "Humanity is tough as hell!" To punctuate that statement, Rhys attempted to playfully punch the arm of the man beside her, only to find her fingers colliding with what felt like a brick wall. While attempts to shake off the pain were less than successful, the face of Hartland remained unchanged.

"We should probably be getting to sleep, shouldn't we? Big day ahead of us. Lucia's asleep and if she's asleep then Diamo's asleep. I know that Mechanoids technically don't sleep, but it isn't good for your kind not to check yourselves, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but how do you know that," inquired Shoa.

"Like I said, I've been here for a long while. Don't worry about it. And you too. " He turned to face Rhys with a casual smile. "First thing after we get to Hickshaw. I'll teach you some magic. Can I ask your names, by the way?"

Quickly, a hand was extended by the woman. "Rhys Madris, expert in whatever you pay me to know."

Shoa extended a hand, much more cautiously. After all, he hadn't had much human contact, and partly because he was afraid his soon-to-be superior's strength would crush his hand.

"Search, Handle, Operate, Analyze. Shoa is what they call me."

As Hartland took Shoa's hand into his, the feelers on Shoa's mechanical hand could only perceive his grip as... soft. Not overpowering or firm or anything of the sort. Just soft. Vig sitting by the fire was the last thing Shoa saw before he began his standard formatting and systems checks. His eyes were wanting, seemingly bloodshot out of nowhere but by force of will he sat by the fire. By the time Rhys had woken up, it seemed that Hartland hadn't moved from his post all night, his eyes as clean as a sheet.