11825, the Eleventh designation from the 825 batch, a distinguished batch of clockwork Mymidions, was a proud construct. Manufactured 1270 years earlier, 11825 had served both the Dragon Overlords and the nascent Gothic Imperial Court. He served with distinction, fighting and destroying many of the rebellious lizardmen. He aided the Gothic Imperial Court in their evacuation from the Lands. And he accepted his deactivation full well knowing he may never see another day.
But that day came 1120 years after deactivation, when new people that 11825 thought had come from the Gothic Imperial Court (for they spoke Gothic, who else could they be) reassembled him, and called him to service once again. The plasma ran through his circuits, and he knew that he would uphold the honorable 825 designation once more.
He fought the strange new lizard like creatures, smaller than Lizardmen but fierce nonetheless. He answered the many questions from the Gothic Courtiers. He refused to be called “Brobot”, whatever that meant. He opened doors. Finally, in the second fight with the little mini-dragons, the courtiers became indicisive. Some called for him to back up. Others, to attack. A few simply yelled “shut the door.” But 11825 was in the doorway, and requested clarification. All the while, the little Mini-dragons pelted him with fire bolts and spears. As his strength ebbed, and eternity beckoned, 11825 wondered, for a moment, what a breeze felt like. A laugh. A mountain flower looked like. Then he could take no more damage, and ceased to be. 11825 had served his 825 designation with honor, and was now at rest.
Oh brobot, you will be missed.
I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.