Before the mechanical city, there was order. Before there was order, there was the planet Kraesa.
This planet had the power to create worlds. Worlds that possessed the same limitless energy. They spread across the galaxy, paving the way for forms of life. The planets created by Kraesa are living planets. They were paradises, harmless peace filled planets. Young thriving civilizations kept their peace among the lands, without bloodshed. A gift of peace from the planets themselves. Upon these perfect building blocks, civilizations rose to astounding technological advancement. Among these advancements were the Infinity gears, eternally spinning and providing power. As a result, space travel soon took place, and the people of the Kraesa planet clusters came together in harmony. Together the peoples of the Kraesa galaxies built upon the massive surface of the planet creator itself a magnificent city as a symbol of peace for civilizations that wandered into the Kraesa galaxy. But with all good things it was too good to last. The Great Burial struck the life in the Kraesa galaxies. An infinite cloud of death that was said to span beyond the universe itself. The planets of life and even Kraesa itself were struck and buried in a thick cloud of dirt, gas, and darkness. The life upon the planet surfaces were choked and destroyed. The cloud moved swiftly through space. Those who survived were turned insane from isolation underground, and the dust brought upon a foreign visitor. Death itself. The once infinite lives of millions of civilizations were snuffed out and consumed in the endless monstrosity. Starships were adrift in ruin from the fury of the dust storm. The great city upon Kraesa was nearly buried save for the tallest of its millions of towers. The people of the great Kraesa galaxies were all but long gone from the face of time. The dark ages of Kraesa were once again in motion for nearly 200 years.
The remaining survivors within the city rebuilt upon the grey ashen surface of their once glorious planet. Once again great amounts of people began to fill the planets emptiness. Wars rose and fell and great leaders built governments. More great cities appeared on the face of Kraesa. The multiple technologies of the past were adopted by the separated peoples upon the planet. Steam, Diesel, Electricity, and other sources of power could be found in only unique cultures of the planet, where as the unexplored lands of the planet remained in the dark ages. The separated technologies and bitter histories amongst the cities created competitiveness and desperation. War was once again going to raise its ugly head by the intervention of a man who named himself the "Mayor". He united the cities with the promise of an eternal energy. It was then that he revealed to the world the ancient Infinity Gears. It was true what he offered, but his intent was corrupt. With the worlds nations guards down he raised a massive army of ancient robots powered by the gears. He struck down the most powerful of the nations, whereas the weaker ones surrendered. Those who opposed his rule still were executed by the millions, and the bodies of entire city populations were dumped into mass graves. The planet consumed the dead into the deep. As a result the 'mutants' arose.
Kraesa yet lived, and put forth it's unusual properties to create these creatures from the dead. Known as creatures of the shadow, the mutants were unique shells of their former selves. Unlike the beings that walked the planet before them, the mutants knew peace.
They Mayor, ordered a massive quarantine of the creatures, and perceived them as a threat. He directed his army to detain the creatures, but the amount of creatures arising from the ground made the task impossible. Seeing that the mutants populated like rats, he utilized them as workers, and forced them into slavery and into condition as animals.
Rebels sought to liberate the creatures from the Mayor's cruel grip, but lacked power in numbers. Most of the world remains in the grip of the Mayor's Army. But his rule will not last. The gears of rebellion are now in motion.
Several miles beyond the Great Ancient City an dysfunctional robot flickered to life
Present Day. 3 days after Matt, Snno and Coat escaped the Walker..
Captain Coat stepped out of his tent and into the blaring light of twin suns. He straightened his cap to shield his eyes. The Rebel camp that took them in was moving with activity, as men and machine walked about setting up structures and equipment. Coat saw Snno lounging on an unpackedbox. He stepped over to her.
"Good morning. I see you're putting in a good amount of work today."
Snno twitched her ears and looked at Coat.
"Good morning to you too. You know I don't work for you anymore. Besides, this box is way too heavy."
"It's more of a common courtesy for someone to chip in a little help. The rebels here have been nice enough to let us hang around, we might as well pay them our debts with a little work."
"I might be willing to comply... if you let me smoke your pipe!"
"The last time I lent you my pipe, you lit the pipe itself on fire because you didn't know how to use tabacco. I'll pass. Where's Matt?"
"I'm not sure, he's a robot you know. He could be doing anything at all. I'm not sure you'd catch master watching the sunrise."
"You're calling him master now? He threw a refrigerator door at you and threatened your life at gunpoint in a moving truck. And over the course of only a few days you're signing yourself off to him?"
"As a result he got my blood on his hands. By law in my culture that means he owns me. Also you're right. Calling him master is lame. But what should I call him?"
"He's a robot... nevermind. Call him by his name or whatever it is. "Matt" is just a shortening of his designation anyway.
With that, Coat turned to walk away and find some corner to brood in. Snno called out to him again.
"What's MATT mean?"
Coat hesitated and thought about it for a minute.
"I don't know."
Matt sat in his tent with a map outstretched on the table. Thoughts poured through his mind as things continued to drone on outside. His mind had been flooded with questions for the past days. He also noticed he was turning different. His speech pattern was becoming less efficient and coordinated, and he was beginning to feel waves of sensory confusion. So much to say and do, so little time. How do fleshbags deal with that kind of pressure every day?
A gentle breeze of wind snaked through the tent opening beckoning you go outside.
There's literally almost anything you can do right now. What should you do?