Strange people and stranger things (Ori)

He should be use to this by now, he fought stranger things and got more confused then Gretcher's mood swings. Yet this was... just strange. He had gotten off a boat from that accursed island only to find himself traveling overland, passing buildings made of metal and giant buildings at that. When did the construction of such things come into play? Where were the castles? These were questions he wanted to ask, he wanted to ask because he was sick of being confused, he hated being confused. But could he trust any of these people? These, clean, strange, people. So he kept walking, avoiding the stare of a confused passerby every once and a while before they went on there daily life, like this was the least confusing thing to happen to them. Yet it was for Ashford, it was the fact he had encountered a strange woman with ability similar to those of gravity and his own, yet now that he had adventured for some time, these... ability users were more frequent then he liked, at least back in his own world it was simple, Jules had magic, Night had strength, Reven had future sight, Daughter had her trade. Not all of them, but there numbers were not as great as this.

But now he found himself in a city bigger then... well. Anything, he had seen, he had been heading to it purposely, for it's tall buildings were a beacon that drew him in. And he regretted it, people were everywhere, and compared to him, they were the sane ones right now, he was covered in dirt and dried blood, his shirt was slightly torn yet his coat, besides a few specks of blood, was cleaner then the day he found it on the skeletons corpse. And while the attention may not have been on him, besides a few side glances, Ashford felt as if the pressure of the world had finally touched his soul again. What was happening to Daughter? Mystic, Raven, Greg... Gretcher. What was happening to everyone. Why was he here, where was he. Walking in a daze, Ash mumbled about fire and vengeance of the clan, his mumbles clear and loud enough that nearby passers were worried if he would take action in a violent manner and made an effort to avoid him, letting his path become clear.

Soon, after what felt like hours of recounting the fires of the ancient ruins, but could only have been minutes due to the position of the sun, Ashford felt the need to escape from prying eyes and sighted the closest building that was in view. It was a hiding place, a safe place, a place that looked familiar in structure yet the material used to make it was.. unorthodox in nature, yet it was indeed a building, because it had a door, and a door meant a building... most of the time. Metal hand touching metal, Ashford turned the knob and opened it, quickly entering the building and shutting the door behind him. The sun no longer kissing his face, the eyes that he felt lingered on him no longer quite present, he closed his good eye and leaned on the door. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. He just needed a few minutes to calm down, he's infiltrated enemy camps before, this was no different, just more difficult.

The door was indeed open, as the sign on it said. And once opened, a gentle chime of the bells above would be heard.

The strange and confused man would find himself inside a shop. It was a warm, comely place. The floors and the walls were covered with light brown wood, and were furnished with all sorts of shelves left and right. Upon those shelves, there was a myriad of whimsical inventions. Wind-up mouses, rabbits, hedgehogs, toy clocks, large bell clocks, alarm clocks, wrist-watches, dancing figurines... You name it - it was there! They did not stay motionlessly, but instead moved back and forth, but never falling off the shelf, as if they were intelligent enough not to do so. Instead, the whimsical toys lived their own lives on top of the shelves. The place smelled of wood, metal, and oil, and was filled with chiming of music boxes and buzzing of various mechanisms.

And on the other side of the room, behind the counter, was, perhaps, the greatest gimmicky creation of them all. From afar, it looked like a girl. She was sitting at the counter, with a calculator in one hand and a pencil in the other. She seemed busy with counting something and writing it down into a notebook in front of her. The handwriting was impeccable - perfect cursive that only a machine could have. And while the machine was engrossed in her chore, the soon the bells above the door rang, she lifted her eyes from the pages to look at the stranger who came to visit, and stood up.

Differences were made more apparent now. The metallic joints, red unblinking eyes, and a plastic sheen from her skin. This was no ordinary girl, but one with those that were placed upon the shelves. And, perhaps, something more. She walked from behind the counter, towards the man. Steps heavy and making the wooden floor creak underneath. Made of metal, the maiden was much heavier than she looked. But in those red artificial eyes there was curiosity. Was it another customer to stop by her father's humble shop? She approached the man, until only a few feet away.

"Hello. My name is Sasha. Welcome to our Clockwork Shop." - she greeted the stranger, a facsimile of a smile appearing on her face. She used to greet people with a smile, before. It looked more natural back then. Now, Sasha had far few reasons to smile. But the habit remained. She looked over the person attentively. He looked strange, worn out, battered, with dried blood on his shirt. Most customers did not show up in such an attire, not when they wanted to buy something. The machine inclined her upper body forward, head twitching to the left slightly, as if mimicking a motion made by a curious pigeon.

"Is there anything I could help you with?"

With customers, impeccably polite, always. Even if they looked like lost hobos.

The sound of almost rhythmical footsteps, loud, so very loud. Opening his one eye, Ashford looked at the girl in front of him, she spoke yet he did not understand, for he was looking at her for what she was, a machine in every way, like the dolls of old, yet much more alive. She gazed at him with red eyes and for a moment, Ash thought of Lucian, would she be behind this? The time-lord had a way with things, even if she was locked away.

When she asked him if she could help, Ash could only stare at her for a few short seconds, which he also raised his right hand, his metal hand to his forehead and rubbed it, the sharp prick of the drills left a small spot of red on his forehead and a reminder that he had them, and instead rose his bandaged but more human left hand to his forehead to commence the rubbing. What could she help with. "If it's alright with you. I just need a moment away from the outside. All these strange people just.." Ashford stopped himself, this woman, Sasha? Was most certainly the weirdest one he had met, yet the weird feeling was replaced with a certain familiarity, he was use to robotic beings, they were normal. Those people out there were not.

"I do hope you don't find this the strangest of questions but. Where am I? I seem to have gotten lost from my... place. And have no idea where I am.. At all." Ashford felt silly saying it that way, but he wasn't sure how these people... this robotic woman felt about a story of a man from another possible world, not the first time he had been to one, but those ones were similar to his, this one was... well. Getting stranger. By the minute. Where was the god there to tease him, the strange being he didn't know but they knew all about him, where was the being who was trying to play with him like a toy, like every other time. Did the overlord really win? Was that why? Then why wasn't she toying with him? His metal hand tap the pommel of the black rapier that was strapped to his side as he thought of these things and waited for an answer from the robot woman, feeling calm by the action.

The expression on the mechanical maiden's face shifted slightly, when the strange man finally spoke to her.

It seemed to be one of ... pity, even though the glass eyes had no emotion in them, aside from an eerie glowing. Even in a human body, Sasha was able to feel things, to some extent. Pity was one of those feelings. The man looked and sounded lost - like those amnesiacs that were posted in the news papers every week, usually to never be found alive. It was a sad thing to not remember where or who one was. And she could relate. When the machine girl was forcefully reawakened into this world, she did not have much memory of herself. Bits and pieces, nothing more.

"You are in my Clockwork Shop. United States of America, New York city, East End, 14th Avenue, 76." - Sasha answered the man's questions, wondering if any of these names would be able to help the man. Though it seemed unlikely. Amnesiacs did not remember their names, much less some words and numbers to identify their current location. The machine took a step back, then another, before turning to the left, and disappearing behind the door. She soon returned with a glass of water, handing it to the man, and carefully opened her hand once she was sure he had a firm grip on the water.

"I will not turn you away. You are lost, and you need help. My father would not mind."

With that, Sasha would motion the man to follow her through the door she just went through, towards another space, away from the tiny machines that seemed to have quietened down, watching both the automaton girl and the strange visitor from the shelves, with their odd, beady eyes. The door lead to a small kitchen, with a table and a chair to sit on. Which was probably what the man needed after spending so much time on his feet.

"Do you remember your name? Where are you from? Do you have any documents with you? Those might tell you where you live. I can call the police and tell them of your situation - they could look in their databases and help you find your relatives..." - Sasha listed the few ideas that were coming to her head. She sounded concern and genuinely wanted to help. If only her voice did not sound to reverberating and metal. But it was the downside of having metallic vocal chords. She looked at the man again. Somehow, his outfit, and his weapons did not seem to fit the place... But then again, people with swords were nothing new. If anything, she too had one.

Ashford began to clock the information as it came, but he didn't understand it. There was so much in the details, a state name, a city name, a very weird street name. He missed the city of hope. Seeing that the robotic woman motioned for him to follow, he realized he like her in a certain way, she was direct, right to the point. It reminded him of Gretcher, while one was a robot, the other was emotionless but they were both right to the point. That was fine. But what really caught his attention was his surroundings, something he had yet to look at fully yet, it was rather, peaceful, yet eerie the way the small statues looked at him... not statues. Figures? Smaller machines?

Following the woman into a... clean, pristine looking room, Ashford found himself drawn to the table and chair, his feet dragging him so he could sit and give them a break, for there was only so much his coat could do with his physical body, and it needed a break at some point. However his mental state was put to the test with the questions that were given the answers he not only had to answer but pull out of her words. "Ashford Narric." Easy to answer, no learning to be done. "City of hope." He hoped that the girl didn't think the answer too strange, but it was the truth, and he didn't feel like making something up, or lying. "No?" Ashford answered to the documents, why did he need documents, a strange question, not sure how paper could help him learn where he lived, unless it was pocket messages... "Pol...ice.. Police, no need." Ashford guessed that these police were the city guards, strange name. "And not sure about this data base, but I don't have a family, unless they would like to look for a Dwarf and I can tell you, when Burrow wants to hide. He can hide." Ashford winced at his own words, his friend, his only family, ran, when he needed him most. He didn't want to see Burrow any time soon. But then again, a face he knew would be better then the masses he saw outside here.

However, he knew his answers would sound strange, weird, confusing. So with a heavy sigh, Ashford looked at the robotic woman. "Okay look. I know this may be a little... difficult. To believe. But I'm from a... alternate reality? Different dimension? That or this is all a trick done by Steven or Lucian. They love there stories." Ashford muttered his last words of Lucian and Steven, eye narrowed in annoyance, if this was them... He would find a way to kill them.

"City of Hope?"

There was no such city in the USA. At least, not officially. But many cities bore custom nicknames, like the Big Apple, the Motor City, or the Windy City, for example. Sasha simply assumed that the stranger was from one of those, and that she was simply ignorant of the nickname. The machine sat opposite to the man, the chair creaking a bit under the weight of her metal frame.

"I never heard of such a city, Mr. Narric. I can search for it, however. This city is nicknamed "The Big Apple." - she had explained, in an even, slightly monotone voice. But as the man continued talking, his tale became more and more delirious - he spoke of dwarfs, and alternate dimensions. While Sasha was aware of metahumans existing in this world, alternate dimensions were never heard of, at least, to the public knowledge. She looked at the man again, somewhat incredulously. Amnesiacs and mentally-deranged people often spoke nonsense.

"I am not sure if I can help you, Mr. Narric. This is the only dimension I know of, and I never heard of any other dimensions existing. You look the same as some people around here, your clothes are alike, and you speak in perfect English instead of  alien gibberish." - the machine stated her reasons for not believing the obscure story this stranger was telling her. Her head tilted to the other side, as she kept assessing the human with her cold, unblinking eyes.

"If you are wary of police, I can call for an ambulance. You could have lost your memory in a fall and a head concussion. Are you hurt?" - Sasha inquired, standing up and looking forward, to inspect the man's head for any sign of trauma or cranial injury.

Ashford studied the machine, he was okay with it not believing what he said, that much was a given, he was rather happy to listen to every new bit of information that came from whatever made her talk. Seems common was English, the most basic of languages, not that he had much to say about language, he could speak and read some Runic and knew about four very similar Dwarven words. The other new word was ambulance, based on her next words, they must have been a sort of healer, medical unit, something that was Gretchers role till now. "Not hurt. Blood is my own and some sort of... snake.. creature. But I healed while I walked here from the sea."

Ashford stood from his seat, he was fairly taller then the robotic girl, but while she seemed small now, he knew that metal beings were always a danger, good thing he had his own metal to deal with such if the moment would ever arise. "Look, ma'am. I thank you for the information you have given me. But I can assure you that I have not been injured in the head in the past... few months. However if you could point me to the nearest..." Ashford stopped, and dejectedly sank back into the chair, having realized that, he didn't have this worlds money, Mary and Jane were not here to give him a free room, his room. Not only that, he had nothing to be here, he was no longer the chosen, no longer the man who killed. No one knew him here, even if this was a trick of the lords and walkers. He was trapped, alone. And he could not die, not while the coat was worn by him.

He had no more words, and yet he didn't know how to respond to this machine, this woman. He could not ask for help, for she would not give him the help he needed and even then he did not know what help was needed. "I'm sorry but... I never got your name?" He needed to delay, let her talk more, give him more to grow on. If he was going to do anything, it was going to have to start here.

Sasha had an incredulous expression on her face, if machines could ever express one.

To her, the man was clearly injured and out of his mind, or at least it seemed that way. He could not remember the names of some words, he talked about snake creatures, and coming from the sea... Perhaps he was a sailor, who's ship suffered a crash, and he managed to reach the shore. Or, perhaps, the machine was being overly analytical. It was a trait that she developed after becoming what she was. Still, she remained patiently at the man's side, and tried to help, if she could.

"My name is Sasha. Sasha Naumova." - the machine repeated her name, only this time adding the last name too. It was strange for a machine to have names, let alone last names, but then again, Sasha was not a very usual machine. Still, their little conversation was about to be stumbled upon, as the door from the workshop opened, followed by steps, a cough, and rumbling of some metallic tools in their wake. Soon, a voice was heard. A rather tired, raspy one.

"Sasha! Sasha, are you here? I did not find you at the counter, and..."

With a mutter, another person appeared at the scene. A man wearing a working apron, a magnifying glass, and gloves. He was 50, at max, but looked much older due to gray hair and a whole bunch of wrinkles. It was as if the man had aged prematurely, or saw something he shouldn't have. He had a limp, and had to rely on a stick to walk around quicker. He waddled into the kitchen, looking surprised and amazed to see someone else in here. Sasha greeted him with a nod.

"Hello, father. This is Mr. Narric. He says he is lost. I was trying to help him."

The old man frowned, as he approached the table, and rested his hand on Sasha's shoulder, almost protectively. He did not seem too happy about a stranger being here, instead he eyed the man with suspicion and distrust, though not overly so - just like a person wary of strangers coming with requests like that.

"That is nice of you, Sasha, but reckless." - he chastised her, to which the machine replied with a very human eye-roll.

"I am made of metal, father."

"I know. But still..." - the man sighed, and looked over to their strange guest. Eyes fixating on the weapons at the hip. "Mr. Narric, was it? I am Nikolai Naumov, the owner of this establishment. Can you tell us where do you need to go?"

The emphasis was on the words "need to go".

"Nice to meet you Sasha.. Ashford was interrupted when the door sprung open and a elderly man came in. Ashford stood from his chair at the new mans entrance but calmed down when he spoke, calling the machine by name. He remained quiet as the two spoke and he realized that these two reminded him of a similar par from his world. Sarah and Mystic. God and machine like daughter. Only this man was not a god... maybe. He couldn't judge.

He also couldn't judge when the man so indirectly asked him to go away. He had to respect that, Ash looked like a mess, he looked dangerous, or at least he felt like he looked it. Sasha would not have cared, as she stated, she is metal. And she thinks he's a mad man of some sort. Giving a small smile to the elderly man, Ashford bowed his head slightly. "I am sorry to disturb. Your daughter was only helping me in knowing where I am, city, state and.. area. But to answer your question. No. I have no where to go.. But I can find somewhere. Thank you." Ashford rose his head and turned towards the door, heading back into the main room of the store, house? What store had a kitchen. Alone, he had full view of the room, and was left in almost awe at the creations that lined the shelves and walls. This place was almost as beautiful as Cain's Blacksmith, but rather then runed weapons that lined the walls, it was artwork of peaceful things. That was when Ashford realized, that these buildings, tall and powerful, were a sign of advanced engineering that said, there were no troubles. That this place was at more or less peace. So what use would a man who kills be here?

Letting out a sigh, Ashford made way to the door, prepared to leave the safety of the indoors back out into the real world, this new, strange world.