Swish!
A large machete-type blade cuts through some thick stalks of bronze coloured stalks. Though they seemed metallic, and even feel metallic, they were a living being.
Despite this, they still bled liquid bronze, seething in high temperature. One of the men present took out a vacuum cannister, holding it over the chopped off region. He collected the 'sap', before reporting it back to the leader of the group.
He took stover, gave a silent nod, before heading back to their campsite. Nonsense knew how he looked like, or even the others, for they all wore black cloaks, along with full face on masks. All they knew was that they could not speak at all, only reporting by text.
In the center of the camp was a large tent, 5 m in height, 3 m in length. Its ostentatious display of wealth was exacerbated by the usage of Mithril, and the incredibly scant Dunasium, on the outer linings of the tent.
Inside laid a large throne, from where a 'young' far is seen sitting upon its broad seat, filled with thick felt and the softest wool possible. His body, laying on it, expressed nothing, yet rage seemed clearly visible in his eyes.
"Sire, may I have the grace to present my humble presence upon your presence? I have something of utmost importance to report. We have currently managed to accrue a viable, renewable source of Pewtrum solution. This achievement is enough to elevate your supreme rank in the clan. I beseech you to stop this exploration, and return to the clan, for I feel... uneasy here. I bel-"
Thwack
A golden chalice is thrown at his head, its content flowing down his scalp. The being kept quiet, despitevthe disgrace. It knew that whatever action it did next would infuriate it further, possibly causing its demise. All it did was hope, hope that its warning would be heeded, and that they would all retreat back out of the ruin.
Its senses never lied after all.
"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! Who do you think you are! I command you, not the other way around! You shall listen to me, and follow all my commands. Why can't you be like A109, he caught that fantastical creatures. Oh just look at its shiny claws, it's purplish fur, it's ruby eyes! Oh, how its alluring look would make me the highlight of the gatherings, especially against that dratted Snozzlinger family! Oh how they annoying me. Goblins should remain goblins, staying wherever belong, at the bottom of the barrel! Ahahaha!" The young fae laughed maniacally, believing it to be the sole ruler that everyone should look at, admire at, grovel at.
The leader of the group bit its lip inside the mask, before standing up, and exiting the tent. It looked back once more, before sighing resignedly. As it walked back to its tent, a small shadow emerged from before one of the many metal trees dotting the region. "Hehehe, did you get scolded again, leader?"
It stopped in its tracks, before turning its head, replying in a static voice "I don't know what you did, A109, but remember, whatever you do, I will stop if it harms the young master." A109, holding his head behind his head, whistled, before reminding it "Heh, jealous now? Know this, I will earn young master's trust, and I will be the one who will lead. Old fool, it's time you... retire."
Scoffing, the leader just resumed walking back to its tent, but not before A109 reminded it, cryptically at that "Oh, and be careful where you go. We don't want anything bad to happen to you now. Who will look after the young master then?"
What does he even mean?
Just as it prepared to interrogate A109 on what he meant, a gutteral, mechanical roar sounded across the camp.