And here it is!
.::Contest Entry::.
Name: Ryder [Cheesy, ain't it?]
The Actual Story:
//:RUN FILE LANGUAGE_ENGLISH.zip
//:100 % DONE
//:RUN SCAN_AREA.zip
//:RUN POWER_SOURCE.zip
//:100 % DONE ALL SYSTEMS GO
The Corbine sat silently in the dark corner, his systems flickering to life. His head snapped up and you could almost hear the mechanical gears inside of him whir to life. His lord had not yet returned. The Corbine was unaware of a certain body laying outside the window, just out of his visual processors. But he didn't know that. Yet.
It was dull. But his lord had ordered him to protect a valuble object and he shall do so with his life.
The minutes ticked by. It was still a long way off to dawn. The Corbine dipped his head, shaking off the cobwebs clinging to his body. Dust swirled in the air. He tilted his head at a certain old cage. It was old, beaten up, and rusty, but something about it triggered a strange electrical impulse through him. His mind whirred to life as it accessed his memory files...
.::*::.
The light was almost too harsh for his mechanical eyes to process, but it quickly adjusted. He stared at the face above him, taking it in, recording it down in his memory banks. He watched as the strange man reached out a white hand and took him out with utmost care. He was holding, the Corbine noticed, an odd stick with light coming out of it.
"Wormtail," The man's cold voice was also registered into the Corbine's memory banks, for future reference. It was shrill, icy, and had a strange deadly quietness in it. The Corbine did not even flinch as the strange stick flicked, causing a huge bang to sound through the room. Someone, the Corbine could not see quite well despite his excellent visual processors, muttered something in reply. "Tell my son I would like to have a word with him."
The latter mumbled, 'Yes my Lord,' and scrambled down the stairs, calling for some 'Lord Tromedlove'.
The man who had taken him out stroked his head, watching him with emotionless scarlet eyes. The Corbine did not react. Soon, Wormtail, as the Corbine had figured out to be, came back with another cloaked man who was almost as pale as the man holding him. This, the Corbine supposed, was the 'Lord Tromedlove'.
"You called, Father?"
"What is this?" The Corbine felt himself suddenly levitating in the air and his computer mind scrambled to find a reasoning for this. Perhaps there was a magnet. But that was impossible. It would have been detected by his sensors. As far as the Corbine could tell, it was caused by the man's strange stick. But that ws impossible as well!
Confused, the Corbine flapped his wings once and gravely chirped.
Lord Tromedlove glanced at the Corbine and briskly answered, "I have...ordered it from a certain merchant. He will be of great use, Father."
The Corbine sensed the mindwaves in the older man's mind grow increasingly sharp. He was mad. But it didn't show in his face or voice as he quietly asked, "And what makes you think we need a silly thing like this, Tromedlove?" He flicked his strange stick once more and the Corbine found himself falling head-first toward the floor. At the last second he flew back up and alightened on a nearby cage, acting as though nothing of interest had happened.
"It is very useful...Voldemort." The Corbine sensed growing anger in Tromedlove's voice now.
"In what ways?" Tromedlove opened his mouth and quickly shut it. "You see? You are a fool to waste your savings on some nonsensical toy."
"It can fly faster than an owl, Father, and can see and hear better too. It can consume human bodies..."
Tromedlove's father was not impressed. "So you say."
The Corbine found Tromedlove looking at him with...what? Pity? "Father, train this creature and see for yourself if it is useful or not. You may...destroy it if you see that it fails to satisfy you."
The Corbine felt himself thrown back into the box with some invisible force. He heard a hiss of annoyance. His processors warned him instantly. There was a huge snake around this room.
"We shall see." The older man hissed. "We shall see..."
.::*::.
//:END VISUAL MEMORY_001.zip
The Corbine's head snapped back up, his internal clock still ticking away like mad. It was a sort of...heart...you could call it. 3:03. Only ten minutes have passed. The Corbine's head bowed in memory as he began to access the summary files of each day he had kept. His current lord had deleted most of his visual memories, but had been unsuccesful in clearing his text summaries.
Yes, Lord Voldemort, as he found out his name later, had trained him in the dark arts. The Corbine had learned a bit of magic from the Lord, learned how to stalk his victims silently, how to kill others in a merciless manner. Yes, the Corbine had been a killing machine, completely ruthless.
That was...until...another horrible event happened...
.::*::.
How could this have happened? Lord Voldemort? Dead?
The nameless Corbine listened intently to the feverish conversation ensuing. If he had the feelings programmed into him, he would have felt cold sorrow and hatred. His master...Lord Voldemort...had been slain by this...Harry Potter!
The Corbine's head dipped down, his mechanical mind whirring with questions. Where would he go? Where would he live?
Suddenly the door slammed open and Lord Tromedlove stormed in, a surprisingly calm look on his face. He did not seem ruffled at all by his father's death. If anything, he seemed almost...happy.
"Come, come, little one." Tromedlove gestured for the Corbine to hop onto his arm. Hesitantly, the crow-like creature hopped on. "We shall find you a better, new home..."
.::*::.
/:END VISUAL MEMORY_402.zip
The Corbine's head dipped lower as he remembered. Yes, he remembered what had happened, deep in his circuits. Tromedlove had given him away, given him away...to his son. What was his son's name? Ah yes...Lord Iridescent...the little boy.
The Corbine felt an odd emotion course through him. That was strange. That emotion hadn't been programmed into him...
.::*::.
Shall finish later when I have the time >3>;
