12-02-2017, 09:19 AM
It was some type of terrestrial quadruped with antlers. The drone’s recollections from before its assimilation kept repeating the word ‘deer,’ but the animal that lay vivisected and chopped up didn’t exactly match the description. For one, its antlers weren’t those of a deer, and its fur was all wrong. Either way, it had put up very little fight once the night elf huntress sank an arrow into the side of its throat.
To play the part, the Borg found itself consuming the cooked flesh and meat. Despite the strange settings and its severance from the Collective, the drone felt zero need to consume any macromolecules. Even so, it understood the important role played by keeping up pretenses, so it spent a fruitless thirty minutes chewing over bits of flesh and muscle. Was it supposed to experience some kind of sensation? The woman kept inquiring about taste, but the Borg received zero positives as it gnashed the chunks of tissue around its mouth.
Despite the futility of this exchange, the drone did note that its other eye had recovered functionality. With both of its eyes working, the Borg could see the world in shinier detail. Who would have thought binocular vision could be so helpful? Beyond the recovery of its eye, its previously amputated hand had nearly recovered as well. All that remained were fingers, which were still little more than lumps of unformed tissues at the ends of its palm.
“So, what’s your world like?” Iyari asked after nearly forty minutes of enjoyable silence.
The Borg paused to force down its current mouthful of sustenance. That interval also gave it the time to prepare an adequate response to the purple-skinned creature. “A lot of blue and green,” it responded before taking another bite of the meat slab in its hands. The punctuating gesture was intended to defer additional conversation, but in that regard, it failed.
“I was actually summoned,” Iyari replied. “They expanded the settlement around Yggdrasil a few years ago, and boom, here I am,” she said with a faint smile.
The Borg furrowed its brow. “You were created? You are a construct?”
Iyari shook her head. “No, I’m flesh and blood,” she answered. “But, like this elk, that flesh and blood was given shape by omnilium. Everything’s omnilium,” she added with a faint laugh.
“Acknowledged,” the drone muttered as it looked at the slab of meat. Omnilium was supposed to be an integral resource in this location so did that mean there was an ancillary logic behind imbibing this mass of lipids and proteins?
Better yet…
The drone looked at the night elf. If her words were accurate, that made her an additional source of omnilium, did it not? She was a more complex creature so would have mean more of the material had gone into her construction? The Borg’s eyes wandered. A rock rested a few feet away from its position. Iyari’s focus had gone to something else—her almost whimsical gaze reflecting upon the darkened forest around them.
“There is motion,” the Borg muttered, standing up and lifting its almost-arm to gesture behind the purple woman’s location. “Are the leave supposed to rustle like that?”
Iyari scowled and glanced over her head.
The drone stepped forward, bending to scoop the rock from the ground. As the night elf turned her head back at the sound of thuds on the ground, the Borg slammed the rock into the side of her face. Facial bones imploded as the force twisted her head back toward the shoulder. A spray of blood hit the air as the top few layers of skin were sheered away by the blow. In a rapid motion, the Borg peeled the ensanguined stone away and delivered another thunderous strike that liberated a few teeth as it caused the woman to crumple backwards.
Dropping the rock, the Borg picked up the woman’s spear. As it stepped over her, it caught a look in her on her bloodied face.
Fear. A long time since fear.
Fear was fun.
The spear tip plunged down through the night elf’s heart. Her corpse seized a few times before falling still. Leaving the spear sticking down through her ribcage, the Borg took the knife from her belt and started to slice into her body. Until it discovered a more effective means of retrieving the omnilium, it would have to stick to a tried and true method.
To play the part, the Borg found itself consuming the cooked flesh and meat. Despite the strange settings and its severance from the Collective, the drone felt zero need to consume any macromolecules. Even so, it understood the important role played by keeping up pretenses, so it spent a fruitless thirty minutes chewing over bits of flesh and muscle. Was it supposed to experience some kind of sensation? The woman kept inquiring about taste, but the Borg received zero positives as it gnashed the chunks of tissue around its mouth.
Despite the futility of this exchange, the drone did note that its other eye had recovered functionality. With both of its eyes working, the Borg could see the world in shinier detail. Who would have thought binocular vision could be so helpful? Beyond the recovery of its eye, its previously amputated hand had nearly recovered as well. All that remained were fingers, which were still little more than lumps of unformed tissues at the ends of its palm.
“So, what’s your world like?” Iyari asked after nearly forty minutes of enjoyable silence.
The Borg paused to force down its current mouthful of sustenance. That interval also gave it the time to prepare an adequate response to the purple-skinned creature. “A lot of blue and green,” it responded before taking another bite of the meat slab in its hands. The punctuating gesture was intended to defer additional conversation, but in that regard, it failed.
“I was actually summoned,” Iyari replied. “They expanded the settlement around Yggdrasil a few years ago, and boom, here I am,” she said with a faint smile.
The Borg furrowed its brow. “You were created? You are a construct?”
Iyari shook her head. “No, I’m flesh and blood,” she answered. “But, like this elk, that flesh and blood was given shape by omnilium. Everything’s omnilium,” she added with a faint laugh.
“Acknowledged,” the drone muttered as it looked at the slab of meat. Omnilium was supposed to be an integral resource in this location so did that mean there was an ancillary logic behind imbibing this mass of lipids and proteins?
Better yet…
The drone looked at the night elf. If her words were accurate, that made her an additional source of omnilium, did it not? She was a more complex creature so would have mean more of the material had gone into her construction? The Borg’s eyes wandered. A rock rested a few feet away from its position. Iyari’s focus had gone to something else—her almost whimsical gaze reflecting upon the darkened forest around them.
“There is motion,” the Borg muttered, standing up and lifting its almost-arm to gesture behind the purple woman’s location. “Are the leave supposed to rustle like that?”
Iyari scowled and glanced over her head.
The drone stepped forward, bending to scoop the rock from the ground. As the night elf turned her head back at the sound of thuds on the ground, the Borg slammed the rock into the side of her face. Facial bones imploded as the force twisted her head back toward the shoulder. A spray of blood hit the air as the top few layers of skin were sheered away by the blow. In a rapid motion, the Borg peeled the ensanguined stone away and delivered another thunderous strike that liberated a few teeth as it caused the woman to crumple backwards.
Dropping the rock, the Borg picked up the woman’s spear. As it stepped over her, it caught a look in her on her bloodied face.
Fear. A long time since fear.
Fear was fun.
The spear tip plunged down through the night elf’s heart. Her corpse seized a few times before falling still. Leaving the spear sticking down through her ribcage, the Borg took the knife from her belt and started to slice into her body. Until it discovered a more effective means of retrieving the omnilium, it would have to stick to a tried and true method.