*catches* *snickers*
I'd imagine something along the lines of: You know, oniichan was wondering, and I was sort of wondering too ... are those real?
*throws*
In my defense, I'd been desert sitting for the past month or so without even as much as a single person passing by within visual range. Unaided visual range, at least.
This was sort of good, and sort of bad.
Good, because it meant that this ... wherever it was ... was likely far enough away from what passed as trade routes and such that there was little chance that somebody would try and go exploring and find something they shouldn't. Like yours truly.
Bad, because this meant I'd need to do a lot of travelling to reach anyplace I could get more information at. Also, it wasn't really helping with keeping me from going stir-crazy. I'd spent the last few years if not exactly interacting with a lot of people, then at least around a lot of people. Even back when I'd been playing hermit inside a Geo-Front and actively trying not to be noticed, I'd been aware that there were people around. Here? That was another matter entirely.
Then I found that there _was_ a fair number of somebodies around. That had been the first thing I'd checked, meaning the day after my finding a viable path to the outside I was scaling the big lug of a rock Odyssey had ended up under, a pair of high magnification binocs around my neck.
I didn't exactly catch sight of any people, just moving dust trails with a single exception.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Memories of Boomers, Angels, and the occasional Space Cicada should have made the sight at least seem less weird.
No such luck. The ... well, I guess I could call it a sandcrawler, since that was what it did, but it honestly resembled a ship. Of supremely weird construction, yes, but still a ship. 'Sailing' across the sandy expanse ...
Well, rolling anyways.
I thought it looked rather Verne-esque.
At least, had Verne done 'Dune'.
Anyway, I needed some way to find out where the hell I was in a broader sense of the word. Not just 'in the desert'. Getting the lay of the land was the unanimously agreed upon course of action to take next.
So, I thought happy thoughts, hopped up, and hoped the pixie dust still held.
In other words, I pulled on that bit of my soul I'd learned how to harness, drew it out from the oversized black marble currently occupying quarters behind and slightly under my sternum, and sprouted wings.
Well, if you could consider four semi-solid energy constructs 'wings'.
It felt rather liberating, to be honest, and I wondered why before remembering that the last time I'd done this was a notable chunk of time in the past.
A brief hop upwards proved that my initial estimate of being stuck in the middle of nowhere still applied ... somewhat. This 'nowhere' seemed to stretch rather far.
Since I didn't want to risk a trip any longer or any higher than that until I knew that I wouldn't be, oh, targetted by any Surface-to-Air-Missile batteries or equivalents.
It wasn't until later, when I'd fed the data I'd taken using the binocs into the Foundation's core via one of the terminals and called it up to have another, calmer, look at it, that I noticed this wasteland couldn't be natural. Or all natural, at least. Some of the depressions were too regular, a few of the mountain masses too jagged ...
There _were_ areas, farther off, where hints of vegetation and/or a body of water could be seen, though. I'd definitely look into that later.
The realization that I had, this time, arrived in the _wake_ of a war, wasn't exactly heartening.
But, as said before, that had come a bit later, and after I'd met with my first local.
Because, apparently, I hadn't been as unobtrusive in my examination from a bird's eye view as I'd hoped to be.
Local, though, could be a bit of a misnomer in this case, and didn't neccessarily equal 'representative of the area'.
After all, how many desert nomads or travellers dress like somebody trying to simultaniously cosplay as Rei Ayanami and Vampire Hunter D?
'Gods, I _hope_ not many,' I thought as I first sighted my stoic, black cloaked visitor.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
I'd imagine something along the lines of: You know, oniichan was wondering, and I was sort of wondering too ... are those real?
*throws*
In my defense, I'd been desert sitting for the past month or so without even as much as a single person passing by within visual range. Unaided visual range, at least.
This was sort of good, and sort of bad.
Good, because it meant that this ... wherever it was ... was likely far enough away from what passed as trade routes and such that there was little chance that somebody would try and go exploring and find something they shouldn't. Like yours truly.
Bad, because this meant I'd need to do a lot of travelling to reach anyplace I could get more information at. Also, it wasn't really helping with keeping me from going stir-crazy. I'd spent the last few years if not exactly interacting with a lot of people, then at least around a lot of people. Even back when I'd been playing hermit inside a Geo-Front and actively trying not to be noticed, I'd been aware that there were people around. Here? That was another matter entirely.
Then I found that there _was_ a fair number of somebodies around. That had been the first thing I'd checked, meaning the day after my finding a viable path to the outside I was scaling the big lug of a rock Odyssey had ended up under, a pair of high magnification binocs around my neck.
I didn't exactly catch sight of any people, just moving dust trails with a single exception.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. Memories of Boomers, Angels, and the occasional Space Cicada should have made the sight at least seem less weird.
No such luck. The ... well, I guess I could call it a sandcrawler, since that was what it did, but it honestly resembled a ship. Of supremely weird construction, yes, but still a ship. 'Sailing' across the sandy expanse ...
Well, rolling anyways.
I thought it looked rather Verne-esque.
At least, had Verne done 'Dune'.
Anyway, I needed some way to find out where the hell I was in a broader sense of the word. Not just 'in the desert'. Getting the lay of the land was the unanimously agreed upon course of action to take next.
So, I thought happy thoughts, hopped up, and hoped the pixie dust still held.
In other words, I pulled on that bit of my soul I'd learned how to harness, drew it out from the oversized black marble currently occupying quarters behind and slightly under my sternum, and sprouted wings.
Well, if you could consider four semi-solid energy constructs 'wings'.
It felt rather liberating, to be honest, and I wondered why before remembering that the last time I'd done this was a notable chunk of time in the past.
A brief hop upwards proved that my initial estimate of being stuck in the middle of nowhere still applied ... somewhat. This 'nowhere' seemed to stretch rather far.
Since I didn't want to risk a trip any longer or any higher than that until I knew that I wouldn't be, oh, targetted by any Surface-to-Air-Missile batteries or equivalents.
It wasn't until later, when I'd fed the data I'd taken using the binocs into the Foundation's core via one of the terminals and called it up to have another, calmer, look at it, that I noticed this wasteland couldn't be natural. Or all natural, at least. Some of the depressions were too regular, a few of the mountain masses too jagged ...
There _were_ areas, farther off, where hints of vegetation and/or a body of water could be seen, though. I'd definitely look into that later.
The realization that I had, this time, arrived in the _wake_ of a war, wasn't exactly heartening.
But, as said before, that had come a bit later, and after I'd met with my first local.
Because, apparently, I hadn't been as unobtrusive in my examination from a bird's eye view as I'd hoped to be.
Local, though, could be a bit of a misnomer in this case, and didn't neccessarily equal 'representative of the area'.
After all, how many desert nomads or travellers dress like somebody trying to simultaniously cosplay as Rei Ayanami and Vampire Hunter D?
'Gods, I _hope_ not many,' I thought as I first sighted my stoic, black cloaked visitor.
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm