Dust to Dust: Man 12

Karma

The radiant warmth of the sun's rays were the first things Pile felt.

Such a slight amount of energy was barely enough to rouse the golem, and his senses were dulled to the point of uselessness. He couldn't even see in front of his face, much less to the campfire or to Bryn's igloo. The sled was shifting lightly, making the cause of Pile's awakening apparent.

Who's going through my things...? They already know what's in there. Maybe the witch assumes I'm putting something together to enact my vengeance.

What a great idea.

However Pile's analysis was quickly proved false, as the mysterious snooper had started investigating the construction body where the golem's core resided. Arms and appendages were put pushed aside as a light touch traced the silver wires running along the metal supports. The light touch became more forceful as it curled around the golem's core. Momentarily, Pile was appreciative of the body warmth accelerating the process of his waking. This appreciation didn't last long, as for when the golem's sense of sight returned, he noticed that the slender hand that grabbed him wasn't from one of the humans.

Their hands weren't green.

Alarm bells went off in Pile's head as he began to actively draw from the hand's heat to further restore his senses. This thief hadn't missed this, and began shaking the core in annoyance. If Pile's weakened senses were to be trusted, the aberrant vibrations running through the hand also implied that the owner was furiously yelling. After a few seconds of this, Pile was dropped into a bag containing a few other tools and nick-knacks. With enough heat for a small movement, Pile heated a spot on his core's surface and sent out a few warmed up silver wires. In the darkness of the bag, the golem took inventory of what he had access to. A few metal tipped arrows, a chipped dagger, and a small pile of coins. With a thin wire reaching every piece of metal he could find, Pile brainstormed possible plans.

His concentration was broken when the owner of the green hand began yammering again, sounding even more agitated than before. The pitch rose higher and higher and the bag containing the golem core swung around in erratic patterns. After the yammering rose to a panicked cry, it suddenly stopped, and the bag fell to the snow below.

Pile's momentum carried him outside the bag as it fell and he was able to see the identity of his captor. It was a short humanoid; green and sickly thin. Thin and knobbled hands clutched at the throat of the motionless body, or at least where the throat used to be. The throat was currently in the mouth of the she-wolf staring down at the corpse. She spat out the mottled green lump of flesh she had torn from its home and bent town towards the silver core. A snort from her muzzle was the only greeting Pile got before she picked him up in her jaws and ran back to camp.

I'm saved, assumed the golem. The only one here I can trust to save me from a starving thief is the only one I can't talk to. Perfect.

As they returned to camp, Pile's assumption about the situation was overturned. It wasn't a thief. It was a raiding party. More of the green creatures were rifling through the sled, pulling out scrap and filling skins and cans with oil, as others with weapons were rushing at Travis. The ranger was in top form as each arrow he loosed found its home in the skull of an enemy, but a few creatures with crude shields were surviving his barrage and approaching cautiously. The she-wolf dashed towards him, eager to relieve him of his burden.

“I'm fine, girl.” consoled Travis. “Put him back first, we can't lose him like that again.”

With a dissatisfied grunt that blew bloodied steamy breath around the silver core held in her jaws, the she-wolf loped over towards the pillaged sled and spat the golem core into the chest cavity of the metal skeleton. She glanced back at her companion in askance of praise or direction, and the ranger responded by wiggling his drawn arrow in the general direction of the campfire before loosing it into the face of an enemy raising a sword at him. A black line trailed from the now opened tanker sled to a raging fire that belched black smoke. The she-wolf's reddened jaws clamped onto the metal shoulder of the skeleton, and bodily threw it into the towering inferno.

For the first time since he was scorched by the smelter golems, Pile had enough energy for everything he needed. His core, now glowing cherry red, flowed smooth and erased any cracks caused by the snap freezes he'd experienced. The entire metal skeleton he controlled was reforged in the flames and golem magic, erasing all of its past stresses and scars, tempering it anew.

Still weak with no musculature, but...

Pile diverted the flow of heat to one of his hands and watched as the very air around it writhed in pain as if in fear of the intensity.

This will do for now.

The she-wolf had now taken her place at her companion's side, removing any chance of the creature's attacks succeeding. The shield-bearing attackers were mangled into a bloody mist by the tooth and claw of a predator in her element. She simply danced around them, swiping at their openings until their composure fell apart. Then came the fangs.

Bryn had locked herself into her igloo, the only signs of her safety being a few frozen bodies reaching towards the entrance and a thick layer of ice blocking their way.

Combat ready, Pile was searching for his own fight. As he scanned the area, he spotted a green figure charging through the forest towards their campsite. This figure, however, was not small like the other green creatures. It wasn't shabbily equipped like the others either, as much of it was covered in gleaming steel. Judging by the massive ax it had raised over its head, it was also terribly strong.

Today, it has met the wrong opponent.

Pile laughed mirthlessly at his unfortunate opponent, and leaped out of the blazing fire to intercept him. The brutish greener rushed at him in a rage and roared his battle cry, spittle flying from his yellowing jaw. As the two met on the snowy battlefield, the raider raised his ax, and Pile opened his metal arms that vaporized any snowflakes that fell upon them. With a mighty crash, the ax was brought down upon the golem's shoulder, tearing through the top support and firmly lodging itself in a brace below it.

Pile, seemingly unaffected, closed his arms around his assailant and hugged him tightly.

He hugged as opponent as the screaming began.

He hugged his opponent as the sizzling of cooking flesh wafted through the forest.

He hugged his opponent as the worn steel armor glowed cherry red and fused to the green skin below it.

Pile let go of his adversary and watched him fall to the snow. The heated armor sizzled and cooled, trapping the green brute in an immobile cage. Not that the brute was aware of this, as he had died of shock long before the finale of the golem's terrible embrace. The remaining thermal energy from the campfire was diverted towards Pile's shoulder where the ax head was lodged. The golem slightly bent his frame, allowing the ax to fall out, and welded the area back together.

After the leader of the raiders died in such horrific fashion, the grunts began scrambling for the trees. Travis was happy not to waste any more arrows, the she-wolf was sick of their sour taste, and Pile needed to recharge. They converged near the sled and took stock of the situation.

Until a woman's shriek pierced the post-battle tired air.

The group didn't was a moment, and rushed the igloo. The sheet of ice blocking the front was still intact, but there was a hole in the back and the signs of a struggle. A short distance away, Bryn was being held by one of the green creatures, a dagger held to her throat. The dagger itself was unlike the chipped one Pile had examined earlier; the one against Bryn's throat had runic designs etched into it and looked to be made of stone, not metal.

The creature was yammering at them triumphantly, but as the she-wolf flanked him from the side and Travis drew his bow, its tone of voice changed. Fearful yowls punctuated by furious hissing escaped its lips as it drew the blade closer to the mage's throat. The mage seemed to be attempting to fight back, but every time she waved her hand at her captor the runes on the blade would glow and the freezing would lose control and affect something random in her vicinity.

The panicked fear slowly left Bryn's face and was replaced by a despondent grimace. She looked up at Pile with resignation in her eyes.

“It's karma, I suppose.”

With that, she shut her eyes tight, clenched her fists, and pulsed. The air distorted around her, throwing the snow into a frenzy and obscuring her and the creatures forms. When the snow settled, Bryn and the creature were still standing there.

Frozen solid.