Once there had been nothing but the gentle current washing over his essence. Not fully aware but straddling the border of consciousness his partially formed spirit had lain motionless below the great river. Given both time and the nourishing complexity of human thoughts and emotion to bolster his being he might have performed a metamorphosis into a river spirit, demon or even a minor godling. But like so many possible futures these fates were not to be. Strong hands darkened by the sun scooped him from the morass that made up the bed of the river.<br/><br/>From there he was fashioned by a master craftsman into an ushabti idol – one of the small statuettes that housed an artificial soul intended to serve the dead in the afterlife. This task while being by far the most common use for such a magical device was far from the only one that made use of the effigies unique talents. Akin to sacred names imprinted into the core of golem from other lands the ushabti could act as a source of animation – literally bringing immobile substances such as clay , metal or rock to life.<br/><br/>This genesis was what the spirit known as Met dreamed of as the slow and inescapable march of time progressed ever on. Above his terrestrial form tonnes of earth gathered over centuries shifted in an instant as the resounding boom of arcane explosions tore the landscape to pieces. Eldritch systems flickered into action and scarab drones were released to preform repairs and maintenance. During this process several life-signs were detected above with one of the bystanders even attempting to acquire the scarab drones for study.<br/><br/>The sacred incantations of activation began to resound through the machine lighting hieroglyphs and sigils.<br/><br/>Above ground the hand braced against the soil and a golden death-mask resembling a god whose name had not been uttered in millennia shone ruby eyes across the surrounding bystanders. More and more of the automaton became visible as if plunged upwards. Another titanic arm fitted with bladed protrusions running down its wrists and a core body that looked more akin to a sarcophagus than a torso. Strong and seemingly reinforced legs completed the picture – coated as with all the rest of its chassis with a mixture of stone and metal and decorated lavishly with all manner of gems and copious working crafted of gold and silver.<br/><br/>Fully risen it stood eighteen feet tall and the occult markings that covered its form shone with unearthly fire. Just as several of the bystanders wondered if the construct would simply stand there like a statue a leg slowly moved and the juggernaut took a step forth causing many of the watchers to dart back in terror.<br/><br/>Inside the mind of the one that was Met similar thoughts of terror were playing out. Gone was the mighty city that had once stood here. Not a sign of the towering spires that had once reached for the heavens or the temples filled with the songs of devout priests. Poisonous gasses wafted through the air and the temperature though day was akin to that of the desert nights.<br/><br/>Was it too late?<br/><br/>Had the great enemy – the dragon who devoured stars already broken through the veil of reality and loosed his infernal brood upon the world?<br/><br/>Met needed answers.<br/><br/>And so his astral form reached out to one of the souls that still floated among the dead. The man had died well and bravely even though his master had been both vain and cruel and Met decided that he was to be the first to receive the precious gift that was rebirth into the mortal world.<br/>Beneath the chest-plate of the mighty construct light began to build. Smoke that smelled of incense and papyrus wafted from the cracks and with something that was both the cry of an infant and the battle scream of a warrior triumphant the lid of the sarcophagus swung open on golden hinges spilling forth the form of a man onto the ground.<br/><br/>Garbed as a soldier the figure had little that would make him stand out in the modern age save perhaps for his impressive musculature and heavy two handed sword that he wore on his back. However his eyes – the bright blue of infinity spoke of anything other than the mundane when they looked up to the small crowd of observers.<br/><br/>The soldier spoke in the voice of one who has seen things no ordinary man would dream off.<br/><br/>“It brought me back from death.... I was cut down and it brought me back.”<br/><br/>He motioned to the hulking shape behind him.<br/><br/>“It wants to know where it is and what happened here. I wish I could tell it but things become so blurry when you leave your body”<br/><br/>The soldiers expression fixated on Engrim pleading for answers to the questions. Neither old and decrepit nor one of the orphan children that plagued such places he was the best hope for revelations.