The Auto-Gnome Artificer
The following is a brief overview account of key events that have transpired within the last 355 years since my creation. These accounts are by no means a complete compilation of all historical events but are those of great significance to express my situation as it currently is.
My creator was a brilliant gnome by the name of Jeddom Meddarag. He was born of a long line of inventors. His goal in life was to create a truly living being. In some ways, as he had said, I was his greatest success. But I knew even I was not his final goal, just that which he was closest to in achieving that goal. He had created a wide variety of automatons throughout his life. He had mentioned that he had named each of his creations after his favorite smells. Before me there had been ‘Fresh Cut Grass’, ‘Gunpowder’, ‘Vanilla’, and ‘Pussy’ (who he said was originally meant to be intended as a robotic companion for him but ended up missing something key and now was just a toy left in his room). I was the first he was able to build with a true sense of sentience. He named me ‘Crispy Bacon’, or ‘C.B.’ for short. Others had come close, simulating a somewhat crude version of artificial intelligence. He had stated that I was the first that was a truly free thinking being. However, I was still a construct. I survived in the strictest sense of the word. I could move, I could think. But, as one would define life, even to this day I am not ‘alive’, any more than any other machine would be considered alive. He had once found the solution to the creation of true life and written it down long ago. However, even before he was able to put it into practice, the notes he had taken were stolen from him. It was suspected that there had been an assistant working with him that disappeared along with the notes. All this occurred years before my creation. I was told these things so that I could find the notes and help to bring his work to life.
I stayed with my creator for the remainder of his life. At time, he would send me out on missions to try and hunt down his notes. Some of the missions brought forth greater information to where they could have gone to. Other missions had no value for that quest, but in every mission, I gained some sense of what I was and what I could do. Admittedly, in the early days I was very incompetent. I was essentially a child learning how to walk for the first time. But, because of how I was built, because of how I looked, those I encountered considered me to be as experienced and knowledgeable as any adult. I had to learn what the definition of everything was. But, of all the things I had to learn, perhaps the greatest challenge was understanding social constructs. I had to learn about inflection, what tone meant when people said things. I took too long to fully understand the nuances of sarcasm. But perhaps the hardest of it all was understanding why people would treat each other the way they did. Perhaps it was the way I had been programmed by my creator, but it seemed completely logical that if all people treated each other well, then they too would be treated well. And this was not how they behaved. Years of deceit and manipulation from the living entities left me suspicious and uncertain of living beings. I found them to be irrational. I had worked over the years to duplicate the actions involved with emotion, but as I was never truly alive, I don’t think I had ever felt a true emotion. This, it would seem, is as much a failing of my creation as it is a blessing. For though I never fully understood the concepts of hurting one another for the intention of ‘pleasure’, I also never got to feel the emotions that others seem to uniquely enjoy, those that help them to feel as though life was truly worth living, such as love and happiness. I am programmed to accomplish my mission. After that, I was programmed to help others as best I could, to best of my ability and understanding.
Early on, this was a difficult concept, especially with the knowledge I had. To this day, I still realize that my interactions with people leave them feeling discomforted and such interactions, especially at first, do not go well. I recall a woman crying in the center of town, one day. I approached her, and she was not afraid of me for I had become something of a regular occurrence, due to my running errands for my creator. I suspect, despite my appearance, the fact that I am a gnome of size under 4 feet probably also helps with others feeling a bit more at ease with me. Perhaps if I were a 6-foot construct that was heavily built, I would not come across as so friendly to others. And so, I approached the woman crying. I was created with an inquisitive nature, something that is needed if I hope to eventually find the documentation I was created to find. She explained to me how she was upset that she had lost her child. This immediately set me to investigation. The upset women was resistant to my questioning, so I asked around town. Once I had discovered the location of the child, I set out to retrieve said child. When I returned the child to his mother, she was mortified. I could tell by the look on her face, she was not pleased by my accomplishment. It was then explained to me, with quite colorful language, that when a living being ceased to live any longer, that they were intentionally placed under the ground, and should not be dug up or returned, despite the grief their absence may cause. It was some time after that before I was forgiven for my lack of social understanding, particularly by that woman. A valuable lesson was learned that day, not just the strange social action of burying one’s dead, but that sometimes people would grieve over things they could do nothing about. As years passed, I learned that most frequently, things that people grieve about tended to be the things they could not do anything about.
After a time, and relatively not a very long time, my creator had passed away. By the time of his death, I had learned a great deal about the differences between one living and one who lived no longer. In line with the traditions I had learned, I buried him in the local graveyard. There were quite a few people that attended his funeral. Even that, I did not understand at first. What purpose did visiting a person who could now acknowledge your presence have? In time, I realized that this was more for those that were left behind than it was for the one that no longer existed on this plane of reality. I was told the ceremony was very dignified and well done. At the time, I had no basis of comparison. It is probably unfortunate that I have gained much more experience in these matters since.
After Jeddom’s death, I was no longer bound to the location where he lived. This permitted me much further journeys. I know that most people live in a specific place because of their needs for comfort, shelter, sleep, and food. I have need for none of these things. All I require is a place to rest my body for six hours. In this, I am not really asleep, so much as what I have dubbed ‘sentry mode’. I watch, I keep aware of my surroundings. I merely remain still, and my cognitive functions go to minimal, allowing me to remain scanning, though little other functions are processed. This feature has made me quite popular with various adventuring parties that require a guard to watch in potentially hostile areas. I have found, however, if I do not get the full 6 hours of recovery, if my rest is interrupted before it can be completed, I am not of great value. But I have also discovered the same of living beings should they not maintain their full 8 hours of rest.
I have attempted to learn what I can of what they call the martial arts. I do not understand a lot of what they call ‘art’. Music is supposed to be magical because it reveals emotion. But, as I do not have emotion, I think I do not fully grasp music. This seems to be the same regarding paintings, sculptures, even theatrical performances. I do learn something from each of these, however. I have seen how certain melodies affect others. I have seen people be moved and get emotional through displaying life on stage. I have seen people feel inspired by certain works of art. At least on an intellectual level, I understand how people react to these things. But martial arts do not depend on emotion. Rather, it depends on the capability of one to be able to move their body, which I have found mine to be quite good at. It is simply an intellectual understanding of how an opponent would move and how to move in conjunction with that. I have found these lessons to be good to know, for the world is violent and often such things are needed for defense.
Yet I still have a lot to learn in many things. I had been exploring in a strange town and found myself inside this ancient mansion. The building had long been abandoned, but there had been rumors that there were clues to the book I was trying to find. It was said that the man who had the book had sold it to a wealthy merchant, who had lived, and ultimately died, within this mansion. After that, none wanted to purchase the building. There were rumors of those that had once lived but no longer did still being within the house. As this held no logical reasoning, and went against my understanding of biology, I decided it was relatively safe to venture within to see if the book had been bought, and left, within the house. There were even a few local kids that offered to come along with me, to get to the bottom of the mystery, as they seemed skeptical of the likelihood of the haunting, as well. Upon my entry, I found that I was not the only one that wanted to see what had been left behind. At first, there was an attempt to convince any would be intruders that the building was, indeed, haunted. But the mirrors and strings that made up the effects were easy to distinguish, and it wasn’t long before a well laid trap revealed the supposed specter. But, during the chase, he sought to engage in combat. As skilled as I was, the man was just stronger, faster. My gears could only move a certain speed, and he beat me out soundly. As fast as he was, though, he was not faster than a crossbow bolt. That ended the fight much more quickly. The only challenge was getting the distance from the fighter to be able to get the shot off. Once he was down, and the mask he wore to convince others that he was merely a ghost was removed from his head, it was revealed to be old man Whithers. Turned out, he thought if he could convince the local town that the mansion was haunted, it would greatly reduce the price of the building and he thought he would be able to buy it for almost nothing. And he would have gotten away with it, had it not been for me and those ‘perky kids’, as he called them.
Unfortunately, the book I sought was not found within that mansion. But I learned from there that my body had certain limitations. I either needed to figure out how to upgrade the gears and circuits that made me up, or I had to figure out some other method to protect myself in addition to my combat abilities. It was then I decided that magic could be helpful in my journeys. At first, this was a concern, as it was speculated that magic moved through the soul, which seemed to also be the home of all emotion. Since I lacked emotion, and I was not considered a ‘living being’, I thought perhaps I did not have a soul. My experience somewhat confirms these theories. I spent time studying with a master wizard, trying to unlock the potential of my ‘soul’. The magician took me on at no cost, just because the idea of teaching a construct some kind of magic truly appealed to him as a great challenge. I spent months under his guidance. He stated that I had a real aptitude for picking things up, that many students will spend years before they can accomplish the simplest of motions and spells. However, despite my best efforts and my complete competence in the incantations and the motions needed to perform… I was unable to cast a single spell. We tried rituals, magic wands, spell scrolls. We attempted every school of magic to learn from. In the end, it would seem that there is something within a truly living being that I did not possess.
This, however, did not dissuade the wizard from attempting other ideas. He found that I could still cast any spell that came from an outside source. For example, when I was given a magic wand as an arcane focus to cast spells from within myself, there was no success. However, when I was given an enchanted wand that contained a spell within it, I was still able to utilize that, as any non-mage type would be able to. This left the wizard with a variety of different ideas and concepts. He started to believe that part of the issue came from the focus I was being given to use. I was being to use more traditional arcane objects, where I had been most familiar with, and had the greatest connection to, different types of tools that I had been programmed to effectively use. My creator made me very proficient with a wide variety of tools. So, he first decided to attempt to use a wrench for my focus, as opposed to a wand. A carving knife instead of an athame. Nuts and bolts instead of crystals, stones, and gems. Second, he figured that the spells he was attempting to get me to cast were very ‘human’ spells, and I was very much not a human. I wasn’t even a gnome. I was simply a machine in the shape of a gnome. So, he wondered what would happen if I attempted spells that were more in line with what I was.
The first sign of any success came when he realized that the things that made me what I was were often considered to be detrimental, even harmful, to a normal living being. Where they drank water and had blood, I had oil. So, with my wrench in hand, we went over a different kind of movements and incantations. This time, the voice wasn’t mystical, but more machine-like. The tone was almost robotic. The movements weren’t as fluid, but seemed more quick, sudden, sharp slight movements, instead of long flowing movements that the wizards are more familiar with. Then, with my wrench in my left hand, and my right hand pointing outward, a small valve opened within my palm and out shot a noxious gas. This gas was quickly analyzed and found to be highly poisonous to living creatures. It was determined this kind of poison could cause my metal body a bit of corrosion but was far less likely to cause me trouble compared to what it did to other living beings. The wizard then examined me, curious to know if this had been a hidden feature that was a part of me long before I came to him. But, upon inspection of my metal palm, there was no valve that was seen there. It seemed to have been conjured through some almost archaic method.
We continued to expand upon these things. I knew that my tools were a better focus for me than the typical magical items. Yet, it was in combat I really wanted to improve, and questioned if there was some kind of magic that could help with my combat prowess. Though he seemed a bit put off about teaching me anything about melee combat, indicating that the magic users tended to prefer to act from afar, he did agree to help me learn some techniques. I found, with the right words, I could cause a major boom from an attack I made with my weapon, which could further harm whatever target I was defending myself against. This was of great advantage. I continued to learn several other techniques, to include even how to heal other people, as well as myself, from potential physical harm. I spent more months learning under him, now with renewed vigor as we were finally making progress. Before I left, he complimented me with the idea that I was one of his fastest learning students, and that if I ever sought to learn other magics, I should have little trouble doing so. Because of my limitations, he acknowledged that there were some magics I would never learn. But I lived multiple lifetimes, so what I did learn would undoubtedly grow strong and be of great value to me.
In total, I spent over two years training with the wizard master. Still, eventually I had to move on. It was good to advance my skills but staying there got me no closer to locating the book that my creator had me searching for. I can say, however, that it did make dealing with hostiles a lot easier. Though, of all the skills I had acquired, it was being able to heal others that made me feel most useful and fulfilled. I acquired more soft skills along the path, as well. Obviously, my gnomish creator programmed me understanding the gnomish language. Anyone and everyone knows and understands common, which he also gave me. But it was in my journeys that I learned a couple of other languages. Learning elvish was easy. There were many villages of mixed races where elves were quite common, and elf-centric villages were usually welcoming of other certain races. I also considered learning the language of the dwarves, but then I discovered the orcs. The orcs seemed to be a very hostile and distrusted race. Being an outsider, myself, and one that others don’t seem to quickly take a liking to, I had a better understanding of orcs than I think most others offered. Not that they couldn’t understand the orcs better, they just had no desire to. I can’t say that I ever feel a desire for anything, so much as a compulsion. I am an automaton, a creation, but I was created with insight, with the ability to think beyond my programming. I wasn’t programmed to feel, but that never stopped me from thinking in my own and unique way. And I realized, orcs would be something interesting to explore.
Finding an orcish tribe was not the hard part. They were often found roaming in places most adventurers and merchants had marked on maps as places to avoid at all costs. Orcs, I discovered, were very tribal and often kept to themselves. Whereas most other common humanoid races, such as humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, etc, tended to have little trouble mixing together in a lot of places. Though, it was well known that there are certain places that just don’t allow certain other races. Most renowned were certain elven villages that denied entry to any non-elves. Some didn’t even permit half-elves entrance. Though, those were far fewer. But orcs, they almost always travelled on their own, rarely entering villages of other races, unless it was to ransack and invade them. There were, of course, a variety of exceptions. But, as a general rule…
So, finding the orcs wasn’t a challenge. Gaining acceptance from them was a different matter, entirely. Orcs are large creatures. They are also, by standard viewpoints, considered to have a frightening appearance. Again, as I do not feel emotions, that includes fear. Though, as I learned from the master wizard, a fear spell can still leave me responding as if I had an emotion of fear, which was a unique sensation to say the least. I believe the orcs I found were most impressed that something as small as myself confidently walked up to them and asked to join them. At first, there was laughter and what I’m pretty sure was a discussion about how best to consume me. But it would seem the orcs were more entertained by my presence than insulted. Do not be mistaken, they were insulted that a gnome would dare to walk up on their camp and boldly address them. It was just that the amusement of it, in the end, took precedence. I soon explained that I was not really a gnome, but just a living construct. They banged on my metal casing, at first thinking it to be either a disguise or full body armor. But, when I removed an eye, showing nothing but wires on the other side, they were astounded and convinced. Unlike the gnomes, orcs were not an advanced race. Where gnomes were notoriously known for their technological advances, orcs were most known for their ability to bash things with heavy objects. This is, in fact, where I gained an appreciation for a mace as a weapon.
I spent over a year traveling with the orcs. I learned much of their culture and was introduced to multiple tribes. At one point, I was referred to as a myth, that it was hard to be believed that I was a thing that existed. I was never clear if they were amazed by the fact that I was a machine or that I was understanding of their culture. On occasion, I would run into other races that had gained entry into the orcish tribes. They were usually those that were considered outcasts within their own societies. I had even come across a couple of half-orcs, mixed blood with some other race. All too often, it seemed humans were those most likely to breed with orcs. Though even that was rare. And those tribes that did accept such half-breeds was even more rare. Most often, orc tribes didn’t allow any other race entry into their ranks, not even if the other race was still half orc.
There was one point where I had made a misstep with an orcish tribal leader. He had challenged me to a drinking contest. I found this confusing as I didn’t drink, but he didn’t seem to believe I was what I said I was, despite all the evidence to the contrary. He claimed it was likely some manner of illusion, though his wording was a bit more crude. I believe his phrasing was ‘you’re a lying son of a bastard whore and I shall prove it by drinking your miniature ass under the table’. It is more harsh sounding in orcish, along with the context that being called small in the orcish culture is considered a great insult. So, I indulged the contest. I can, after all, consume beverages and food, I just have no need to. In the end, it still must be disposed of, which I’ve found to be a very off-putting event to others watching on. Apparently, my creator decided to put my waste disposal unit in the same place as any other humanoid creature’s and is generally considered rude to dispose of in public places. The orcs, though, were a bit more accepting of such things. Yet, still, the alcohol had no impact on the functionality of my processors or gears, as it was kept within my stomach lining and not absorbed into my bloodstream as it was to my orcish competitor. They had no complaints about me disposing of the waste when I started to fill up on alcohol. In fact, at one point the orc chief joined me in ‘relieving’ ourselves. At which point, he made another insulting comment about size, though it wasn’t addressing my body in its entirety, this time. In the end, however, he blacked out drunk and I remained unaffected. I’m not sure if this convinced him of my words, but at the very least it earned his respect, and I had no problems from that tribe from that point on.
There were many other adventures during the total 355 years of my life. You don’t live so long without doing so. I have searched for a man that is surely dead, by now, looking for that which he had stolen. Over the years, I have learned how people interact. And though I am still found very unsettling because of my presence on what is called the ‘uncanny valley’ (a point where automations are too much like humanoid, yet not quite human, or gnome, that it is found to be disturbing). I also lack a lot by not being able to fully comprehend emotions, since I do not feel them. I’ve also noticed others get a little creeped out when I go to rest, yet my eyes remain open, vigilant. But I no longer suffer from the same misunderstandings that I had early on. I took my studies with the orcs and applied it to society that I was more familiar with. I’ve learned languages and cultures, and though I still respond in an awkward manner at times, I understand that in the hundreds of years that I have been surviving, I understand a great deal more. Sometimes, I believe that I may actually understand human nature better than those that live it, because I am able to view it from an outside perspective and I do not get so hung up on my emotion regarding a subject.
After a recent encounter with a bandit camp that had been set up to catch non-perceptive travelers, I had picked up some kind of rumor that the book I had been looking for may have been taken to a place called Icewind Dale. After a bit further inquiry, it was stated that this village has had a recent issue regarding some supernatural forces. The man I was questioning didn’t seem to be able to offer much before his body accidentally ran out of blood. He should not have attempted to rob me. Or, even if he didn’t realize that, after he stood among the corpses of his friends, he should have at least realized at that point that further taunting was not the best idea. Anyway, I decided that going to Icewind Dale was as good a lead as anything else I’ve had over the last 300+ years, and it sounded like the town could use some help, anyway. So, I decided to venture in that direction to see what awaited me…