So We Met In A Tavern.

Only A Number

A female gnome with black curly hair haphazardly jutting out from under a leather skullcap, laboriously tends to a mechanical creation. She adjusts her goggles over her eyes to see closer to the finer details of her work. A project that she's been working over a year.

Made from metal, wood, and various tubing, a humanoid man lays on the table before her.

There are tools, schematics, and drawings spread vicariously about the laboratory work benches that she occupies.

Making a few last adjustments, she opens a small box next to her. A soft blue glow emanated from within can be seen reflecting off the glass of her goggles.

"Well," she says to her creation. "That should just about do it! With any luck, this is the missing piece I've been looking for."

Reaching inside, she produces a fist sized crystal and holds it up to the light. Pulsating with vibrant color and a soft hum, she studies it carefully one last time. It was attained by Blackwater troops, and served as advanced and part payment for the work she was tasked for. Smiling, she places it inside the chest cavity of the humanoid, secures it, and closes the small hatch to his chest.

At first nothing happens, but as the energy transferes from the crystal, arcs of energy race thru the limbs of the being, and he begins to move freely. Fresh eyes open and take in their surroundings.

First thinking it was a fail for the eleventh time, she holds her breath. The woman speaks.

"Eleven?" She inquired. "What is your primary mission?"

Sitting up he looks to her. "To assist the creator." He responds with an automiton voice. Her programming seems to be taking well.

"Are you the creator?" He asks

"I am." She responds. "Stand and perform an operational check.

He stands on the table and begins to operate his various limbs and servos that comprise his anatomy.

"No, Eleven...climb down and stand on the floor." She says slightly irritated. She is pleased of his performance thus far dispite his literal thinking.

"Yes creator" He replies and climbs off the table to the floor.

"Fekwa!...call me that Eleven." She instructs.

"Yes, creator, Fekwa!" He responds.

"No Eleven, just Fekwa." She replied.

He looks around the laboratory taking in his surroundings.

"What is my purpose Fekwa?" He asks.

"To be my assistant. I have much to do for Prince Blackwater. I can't possibly finish in the time alloted without help." She says.

"First order of business... organize and inventory everything in this workshop." She picks up a set of scrolls handing them to him. "Then memorize these!" She instructs.

Heading off to a back room She opens the door. "I'll nap, then work begins. Have that done by the time I return in two hours." And closes the door behind her.

Without hesitation, Eleven begins to organize and catalog the laboratory. When finished, he unrolled the scrolls. They seem to be plans on retrofiting some type of propulsion device to an existing ship. He studies them committing them to memory, then waits inert the last 30 minutes until Fekwa returns.

Eleven spends the next year under Fekwas instruction. He learns blacksmithing, and how to tinker, becoming an artificer. They work together, and often tirelessly and without conversation. The only time Fekwa speaks to Eleven is when something is needed, or instruction is given.

Eleven learns she's not much for conversation and detests unproductive behavior, so he assisted her until his services were no longer required.

Eleven helped Fekwa design and build several prototype engines on a small scale. He also helped design a flight control system to an airborne craft never really understanding its true purpose, or why itvwas needed. Once completed, Fekwa held the small engine in her hands.

"We did it!... It's complete." Handing it to Eleven. "Attach that to the test craft.

He does as requested and awaits her next instruction.

Days go by and without work, he begins to ask questions of the outside world.

"What do people do?"
"What are their purpose?"
"Why do they eat?"
"What is freindship?"

Simple questions, but to Fekwa, impossible to know. She spent a lifetime of working, avoiding frivolous and pointless encounters and conversation with people. To her they were nothing but wastes of time. So Eleven became curious with the lack of tasking.

"Eleven, you are better off just working like me. There's no purpose in pointless ventures!" She said defensively. Truth of the matter was that Fekwa was just as incapable of understanding people as Eleven was.

She'd fed him books hoping that would answer his questions, but only served to create more questions. And before too long, Fekwa had had enough, and put him away in a crate.

After a month, he had heard her voice as she entered the room.

"Ezra... here is the crate... just take it to the warehouse in Mirkwood. Here are the instructions for Zeb."

"Yes ma'am!" The voice replied. He assumed it belonged to this Ezra.

Fekwa approaches the crate. "Eleven.... im sending you away to learn of the world. Im sorry I couldn't teach you. The one who retrieves you will be your freind. Protect them, and perhaps they will be better suited to teach you than I."

He takes her words in and wonders why he cannot remain. His primary function is to obey her, so without hesitation, he replied in a muffled voice. "Yes Fekwa"

He felt the movement of his crate. "Man Ezra! This crate is heavy. We'll have to load it on your wagon." Another male voice.

And so Eleven was loaded onto a wagon. And for three days he felt the wagon move over Sterk Highway and finally come to rest.

Offloaded, he was set in the corner of the warehouse for three weeks until one day he heard a few voices. Then, a crowbar pulled the nails to his crate.

A man he's never seen before sets the wood planks to the side. A woman is with him. She is dressing in leather armor and resembles an elf...perhaps half-elf from what he's read. She has red hair and looks at him.

"Oh... He is certainly not what I expected. Has he got a name?"

Eleven steps out of the box as low whirring sounds can be heard as its joints move. It's heavy feet sound on the floor. A mechanical voice speaks "I am Eleven!" Looking at Lenore "What is you designation?"

Lenore watched in wonder as the figure moved, the sounds it made as it moved were fascinating to her.
Having to make herself speak again after watching with amazement, she smiled "I'm called Lenore. Its a pleasure to meet you, Eleven."

Elevens head twitches. "Well met Lenore!"

"I am to learn. To observe. Are you friend or foe?" He asks.

Lenore chuckled "I am a friend, Eleven. I am here to show you around the town. I am new here as well, so we will learn together."

Joining her, he thinks to himself, this is my friend that I will defend and protect.