[To Sail the Zeitgeist Sea] Robotman Fan Fiction - In The Madlands

 

6716/In The Madlands

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In The Madlands
Date of Scene:	27 June 2021
Location:	Madlands, Dreamlands
Synopsis:	The Actionist recruits Ilmr to aid the heroes in Lego Metropolis....against himself?
Cast of Characters:	Cliff Steele, Ilmr Hukommelse
Tinyplot:	Sailing the Zeitgiest Sea

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Cliff Steele has posed:
More than a month has passed since Ilmr fled the sane asylum, carefully avoiding herds of Pianos as she moved, but now the moon waxes high and she is no closer to finding...anywhere really. Strange and mysterious are the inhabitants she has met, and frankly most of the Madlands made little sense to boot. With her memory so gone, it is even more maddening and yet with great patience she has nevertheless persisted.

So on a cold and weary night as survival skills meant for the waking world that seem at best upside down here slowly recur to her, she sees a campfire in the distance with a lone figure seated therein, warming his hands by the fire. There is something dreadful, something inviting, something familiar and something ominous about it all at the same time.

Ilmr Hukommelse has posed:
She stiffles her sense of unease and walks up to the lone figure. She badly wants to know what is going on and that overpowers the sense to run the other direction. Well, she thinks, if anything there is warmth here, even for a few moments. She approaches the figure cautiously and asks, "hello, do you mind if I warm myself here for a moment?"

Cliff Steele has posed:
The figure looks up, and seems familiar to her. Was this someone she saw at the Sane Asylum. He throws back his hood and looks at her, smiling, a piece of wood and a whittling knife in his hand as he is slowly wittling what looks like an oddly blocky childs doll. "But of course, stay as long as you like. Stew as well if you like it," he motions to a delicious smelling stew that lays in the cookpot across from her. Curious that she hadnt smelled it before with her extremely sharp Asgardian senses. Magic, some distant memory in the back of her mind whispered in echoes and chambers therein. This man was a mage, all the more reason to be even more astutely cautious, "You have come quite far it seems."

Ilmr Hukommelse has posed:
She doesn't need further invitation, she walks up to the bubbling stew that really does smell delicious, takes a proffered bowl and pours herself some and sits down. The man before her doesn't seem quite as frightening as before and she eats her stew quickly. She sees him watching her curiously and realizes she should answer his question. "Yes, I have come quite far... I'm not really sure how far I have come." She looks at the doll he is whittling away at and pointing at it, says "may I ask what you are doing there?"

Cliff Steele has posed:
The figure puts his hand to his beared chin, and smiles, Lapis eyes looking deeply back into her own. "You have come exactly 349 Marches, which to the extend that waking geometry matters at all (and it doesnt) about 5000 or 25 miles as the dead crow flies. But such things are antiquated when measured in the dreamlands. I am here to offer you a bargain," he said with certainty, "since I am a man who likes to have a backup plan. A certain oaf has misplaced a certain object of great importance by shirking a certain sacred duty. You might have met him, all shiny? There is a beacon, of great import, and should I miss my first chance I am game to make a second. My bargain is simple. I shall speed your journey, one you will never reach at the rate you go to be of any consequence in the struggle you seek, on your promise that you will not leave the Dreamlands until the Brazier is brought to Wall. My deed is to be accomplished, and if I do not succeed, and the forces of Story are strong with these fools, then I shall want my second chance. Destiny is fickle but it will not be denied. It can, however, be delayed and bent from time to time."

Ilmr Hukommelse has posed:
Ilmr stares at him for a moment or two, thinking about his offer. The offer doesn't sound too bad and she likes the idea of traveling with a companion, especially as she really doesn't know where she's going. "He doesn't seem like such a bad type", she muses to herself, "and perhaps this will help me remember who I am". Aloud she said, "I promise, I'll help you achieve your goal... however many times it takes." She extends her hand to him.

Cliff Steele has posed:
"He's a foul mouthed goof ball who risked the lives of tens of thousands of people on a lark, and the poorest tool for my design imaginable short of an amnesiatic asgardian who has no idea who or what she is, but I will take the two arrows in the quiver being what they may be. I am of the Old Way, and we are in the Old Country, remember this daughter of the Great World Tree. Remember the ways of riddles, and names and bargains made. Remember this when they tell you that you need not take the Brazier to Wall. Remember this when the temptation to walk in the sunlit world rears its head. As to who you are? You are Ilmr Hukommelse, daughter of Asgard and forgotten goddess of music. My goal, heroine, involves the sacrifice of tens of thousands of souls. I rather doubt you will find my cause something someone so noble of bearing will so easily take, but bargain made and kept." He extends his hand and there is a gong somewhere, a chime as he lets go and takes out a key, putting it into a large oak before him, turning it into a keyhole that had not previously been there.

He turns the key and a door appears in the tree as if it had always been there, showing a vast city of sky scrapers and blocks and and endless shining sea. "Step forth daughter of Asgard, and keep your oath."

Ilmr Hukommelse has posed:
Ilmr ponders what he says but it makes no difference, she's already made her promise to this man and she won't go back on her word. She stands up to go through the door but pauses a moment. "You didn't tell me what your name is, sir."

Cliff Steele has posed:
He smiles wickedly, "No, daughter of Asguard, I didn't." He shuts the door behind her as she finds herself curiously blocky like some kind of wooden or plastic doll with oddly curved hands as the door that was no door is gone beside her and she can smell the salt air of the sea as the city rises and shines before her.

Adventure awaits.