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Description
A chance encounter with one of the leaders of the rebels... an 'Automaton' NPC from the D&D game I'm running. Damn those players with Hermit backgrounds, I gotta come up with cool hidden world secrets for them! :0

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    The lights in the Automaton’s eyes were gone and a thin frost had taken over parts not exposed to the fire. He could sense no arcane power drifting off of it. He uncovered more of the blanket to find its head held many cracks and dents. This was quite an old Automaton, sent into the deep forests to beat down terrible creatures as it could not perform its duties elsewhere anymore.
    And it was dead.
    Dead? Why would I think that? He thought curiously at that reaction. It had simply ceased to function. This magical tool has stopped working. One does not put out a campfire and say then it is dead. It doesn’t work like that.
    But… he touched the cold Automaton. He’d never seen one inactive before.
    The Reaper stiffened as the sound of footsteps in the snow met his ears. He kept in place, his muscles tensing; it had not noticed him yet. It was moving towards the camp but looking down at the firewood in its arms.
    It was another Automaton. He could tell by the way the light flickered on its metal face even from this distance, but also by the fact that glowing magenta-coloured eyes illuminated the inside of the hood it wore.
    Before he could think about how strange it was for it to be wearing clothing, the approaching figure stopped as it looked up and spotted him.
    There was a pause between them.
    The Reaper would never forget that moment. As his eyes met its… there was something there. A connection. He’d seen other active Automatons on the road, but they were machines, husks, only existing to take orders and fulfill them.
    This Automaton… it was… someone.
    Its eyes lingered on him in that moment and flitted over to the inactive Automaton. The magenta glow shone brighter for a moment... and then dimmed. It seemed to shake slightly, and its internal moving parts whirred very audibly, as though it was undertaking a tough task. But it was just standing there.
    Before The Reaper could say anything, the Automaton dropped the firewood and turned, running away from him. He rose and began to chase it best he could, but with his ankle, could not keep up.
    “I order you to stop!” The Reaper yelled after it. All Automatons did, could do, was follow orders, despite how strange this one was, so he was sure it would stop and he could investigate it and figure out why it gave him such an uneasy feeling.
    The Automaton did not heed the order however, instead running faster away and casting thaumaturgy earthquakes to disrupt the snow behind it, hiding its retreating footprints. As The Reaper struggled to keep up, he found that it had even cast several minor illusioned footprints to further hide its tracks. He’d completely lost the trail to an intelligence and awareness he’d never heard possible by Automaton, even the well manufactured ones.
A fear entered his spine as he stopped, gazing forward through the thick snow-covered trees. If the Automaton didn’t follow orders… then… it was completely unpredictable. He didn’t want to follow it. It was dangerous. That thing... It was different. It… saw him. There was a connection there, it was like he was looking at another person. Not just a machine.

Description
A chance encounter with one of the leaders of the rebels... an 'Automaton' NPC from the D&D game I'm running. Damn those players with Hermit backgrounds, I gotta come up with cool hidden world secrets for them! :0

:
    The lights in the Automaton’s eyes were gone and a thin frost had taken over parts not exposed to the fire. He could sense no arcane power drifting off of it. He uncovered more of the blanket to find its head held many cracks and dents. This was quite an old Automaton, sent into the deep forests to beat down terrible creatures as it could not perform its duties elsewhere anymore.
    And it was dead.
    Dead? Why would I think that? He thought curiously at that reaction. It had simply ceased to function. This magical tool has stopped working. One does not put out a campfire and say then it is dead. It doesn’t work like that.
    But… he touched the cold Automaton. He’d never seen one inactive before.
    The Reaper stiffened as the sound of footsteps in the snow met his ears. He kept in place, his muscles tensing; it had not noticed him yet. It was moving towards the camp but looking down at the firewood in its arms.
    It was another Automaton. He could tell by the way the light flickered on its metal face even from this distance, but also by the fact that glowing magenta-coloured eyes illuminated the inside of the hood it wore.
    Before he could think about how strange it was for it to be wearing clothing, the approaching figure stopped as it looked up and spotted him.
    There was a pause between them.
    The Reaper would never forget that moment. As his eyes met its… there was something there. A connection. He’d seen other active Automatons on the road, but they were machines, husks, only existing to take orders and fulfill them.
    This Automaton… it was… someone.
    Its eyes lingered on him in that moment and flitted over to the inactive Automaton. The magenta glow shone brighter for a moment... and then dimmed. It seemed to shake slightly, and its internal moving parts whirred very audibly, as though it was undertaking a tough task. But it was just standing there.
    Before The Reaper could say anything, the Automaton dropped the firewood and turned, running away from him. He rose and began to chase it best he could, but with his ankle, could not keep up.
    “I order you to stop!” The Reaper yelled after it. All Automatons did, could do, was follow orders, despite how strange this one was, so he was sure it would stop and he could investigate it and figure out why it gave him such an uneasy feeling.
    The Automaton did not heed the order however, instead running faster away and casting thaumaturgy earthquakes to disrupt the snow behind it, hiding its retreating footprints. As The Reaper struggled to keep up, he found that it had even cast several minor illusioned footprints to further hide its tracks. He’d completely lost the trail to an intelligence and awareness he’d never heard possible by Automaton, even the well manufactured ones.
A fear entered his spine as he stopped, gazing forward through the thick snow-covered trees. If the Automaton didn’t follow orders… then… it was completely unpredictable. He didn’t want to follow it. It was dangerous. That thing... It was different. It… saw him. There was a connection there, it was like he was looking at another person. Not just a machine.