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Iona—no, the woman who had been Iona—sat down at the potter’s wheel. She touched the wet clay. It spun between her palms, cool and patient.
The Clockwork Exile was a broken automaton named Cog, rusted in a ravine. Its memory core was fried, but it repeated one phrase: “Find the Prince. Apologize.” Iona carried it on her back for six miles before its legs clicked back into motion. It never said thank you, but it started watching her back at night.
“So is a world without a sun.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I was so tired of being a quest.”
The Greymire Fen was exactly as pleasant as it sounded. Thigh-deep in black water, surrounded by willows that whispered insults, hunted by Shadows that had no faces but many, many teeth. Iona’s survival chance dropped to 8%. Then 5%. Then 3%.
Iona—no, the woman who had been Iona—sat down at the potter’s wheel. She touched the wet clay. It spun between her palms, cool and patient.
The Clockwork Exile was a broken automaton named Cog, rusted in a ravine. Its memory core was fried, but it repeated one phrase: “Find the Prince. Apologize.” Iona carried it on her back for six miles before its legs clicked back into motion. It never said thank you, but it started watching her back at night. rpg maker mv quest log
“So is a world without a sun.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I was so tired of being a quest.” Iona—no, the woman who had been Iona—sat down
The Greymire Fen was exactly as pleasant as it sounded. Thigh-deep in black water, surrounded by willows that whispered insults, hunted by Shadows that had no faces but many, many teeth. Iona’s survival chance dropped to 8%. Then 5%. Then 3%. The Clockwork Exile was a broken automaton named
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