Though you might be expecting a comedy, you are certain to be amazed at the breadth and depth of our complex construct’s life and times, before joining the United. Hark, I hear the overture playing, the crowd applauding. Quickly, find your seats, remove yon crowns, and be certain you have a hankie on hand!
The Oddity and the Oddball
Artificer's Chambers—Village of Tungsten
“SKREEEE!” A squeal, like metallic nails on a chalkboard, emitted from Gort’s mouth. The young woman, Daisy, was the only one who could make him laugh. Gort was a Warforged Warrior; a huge, humanoid construct. Composed of metal, wood, and other inorganic materials, he was infused with sentience to enable him to make moral decisions in battle.
“Query: Why do Paladins wear chainmail?” Gort responded. A chortling Daisy shrugged her shoulders. “Declaration: Because, it is the holiest of armors.” They both began to laugh uncontrollably.
This was Gort’s favorite time of the week. When the Warforged Warriors, who protected the village of Tungsten, were refurbished and repaired. Gort always made sure that he saw Daisy; and made sure he was last in line, so they could spend more time together. Somehow, the way she spoke to him, her gentle touch, her humor, made Gort feel like she respected him as a living being; an equal. As opposed to some of the other artificers, who treated the Warforged like unliving automations.
“Welp, those Trolls did quite a number on you.” Daisy chuckled, as she polished the newly replaced panels on Gort’s armor. “Course that’s what will happen when you lead the charge every time. You gotta’ be more careful like. You’re damn strong, but even you aren’t invincible.” She admonished. Daisy was a tall, strong human woman, with an unkempt mane of fiery red hair. She was, what many would refer to as, a tomboy. She was raised by her artificer father and followed in his footsteps. A bawdy woman, she could outdrink and outfight most men, and tell jokes that would make a sailor blush.
Gort was somewhat surprised. He didn’t realize his actions had been so transparent. He reached into a compartment on his side and produced a flower. He had picked many flowers over the last few weeks, but never had the courage to present one to her.
“Statement: I saw this in the garden and thought of you.” Gort extended the flower toward Daisy. “Query: Is it not called, a Daisy?” Having lost all modulation in his voice many battles ago, Gort was forced to preface his monotone speech with his intended inflections.
“Aww! Thanks, Gort.” Daisy took the flower and placed it in her hair. “Do I look all lady like now?” She smiled, striking an exaggerated pose.
“Exclamation: Loverly!” Gort replied.
And so, it continued. Week after week, Gort would bring her a daisy for her hair, as they traded jokes and told each other about the events that transpired throughout the week. But as Autumn approached, Gort became concerned. He realized that soon, all the daisies would go dormant until Spring, and he would no longer be able to bring Daisy flowers. Having few needs, Gort was able to amass quite a bit of savings from the pay he received as a soldier of Tungsten. He purchased a plot of land, on the outskirts of the city, and built a large greenhouse. There, he planted row upon row of daisies.
“Gort was confused. “Query: Are you unhappy with it?” He intoned.
“No, of course not. But how. . .where. . . are they coming from? Everything is frozen and dead!” Daisy stammered.
“Declaration: It would be better if I showed you.” Gort replied.
Trudging through the snow, the odd couple headed toward the outskirts of town. The full moon lit the night with a warm glow. Entering the greenhouse, Daisy was astonished.
“You built this. . . for me?” Daisy looked upon the glistening glass structure; looked upon the rows of blossoming daisies. “It’s beautiful Gort.” She gazed at the glass ceiling panes, each reflecting a portrait of the night sky. “It’s like a thousand moons.” She whispered.
“Correction: 600, not counting the side panes.” Gort stated with pride.
“Statement: I am familiar with the Orcish, blood dance of the seven blades.” Gort boastfully replied.
Daisy’s jaw dropped.
“SKREEEE! Exclamation: You should have seen your face.” Gort laughed through his expressionless façade. “SKREEEE!”
“Damn you!” Daisy chuckled, as she gave him a push. “Here. Take my hand, now put your other arm here.” She instructed Gort. “Now do what I do, in reverse. And whatever you do, don’t crush my feet!” She beamed at him, as they began to dance under the light of a thousand (600) moons. “Dancing is just like humor, timing is everything.”
Gort nodded, as he calculated, and appreciated, the mathematical precision of the dance. “Declaration: Timing is everything.” He concurred. And so, every evening, the two practiced their dancing and, slowly and naturally, their love began to blossom, alongside the daisies.
Spring
“I feel like a cow who got tangled up in a fabric store.” Daisy grimaced.
“Declaration: No bovine ever looked so beautiful.” Gort exclaimed.
“Why thank you Gort. You’re looking mighty buffed up and shiny yourself.” She glared at him with an exaggerated jealous squint. “Has someone else been polishing you behind my back?”
“Statement: You are the only artificer for me.” Gort replied with a bow.
As they entered the dance hall, a troubled look came over Daisy’s face. “Ya know, people are going to stare at us tonight. Unlike my name, I ain’t no dainty flower. And I don’t think any Warforged ever attended a dance before. We’re going to stick out on the dance floor, like an oddity and an oddball.”
“Declaration: They will be staring in jealousy.” Gort replied, as he led her to the ballroom. “Because I am dancing with the most beautiful woman in town.”
“Statement: I cannot sleep, I do not dream. But I had always hoped I would, one day, find someone to share my life.” Gort’s voice seemed to tremble. “Declaration: Thank you Daisy, for making my life come true.”
And people did stare. Shocked at first, but on seeing their synchronized dance steps, their rhythmic and graceful swaying, their palpable love for each other, everyone began to applaud. Daisy smiled at Gort. And, despite his expressionless façade, Gort’s face seemed to return her smile.
“You would not think it to look at me now.” Blackflint replied. “But I was once young and in love myself. My love was ‘forbidden’ as well. For it was with my brother’s wife. Was it wrong? My brother had forsaken her, and we fell in love rebuilding the Dukedom he had neglected for so long. Our love ended in tragedy, but while we were together, it was the most beautiful, joyful, loving time of my life.” His scared face formed a smile at the warm memories.
The next Spring, they were married at the greenhouse by Brother Blackflint. The entire village of Tungsten showed up and celebrated. There was not one objection, for how could there be, with a love so self-evident. And so, they lived in happiness and contentment for many decades.
But while Warforged never age, time passes all too quickly for humans. Daisy became older and frail. Gort purchased a small wagon, and converted it into a wheeled chair, so Daisy could still travel through the village. Unable to dance, she still attended the galas, where she and Gort would pass out daisies to young courting couples. They tried to play matchmaker, especially, to all the oddities and oddballs.
“Declaration: I do not wish to exist after you pass. My world would be empty without your presence.” Gort’s voice seemed to waiver. “Statement: I shall lay next to you, until I too cease functioning."
“No Gort. You must go on living.” Daisy’s voice suddenly had the strength of her youth in it. “You are the bravest, kindest, most loving being I have ever known. You cannot deprive the world of that. I never thought anyone would ever love me. You taught me that love is possible, for all of the oddities and oddballs in this world. Promise me that you will continue without me. Help everyone realize that love is possible, and can be found when, where, and with whom, you least expect.” Gort promised, as Daisy breathed her final breath.
Gort buried Daisy in the greenhouse, where the flowers always bloomed, beneath a thousand suns and moons. He continued serving as a soldier by day. On dance nights, he would continue to pass out daisies and play matchmaker. One of his proudest moments was, when he helped set up a young soldier he served with.
At night, Gort would journey to the greenhouse and sit and talk to Daisy about the day’s events; always eager to tell her a new joke, or humorous tale he learned. He would bring her the sweet cakes that she loved so much, but crumpled them to feed to the birds when he left, because he knew she would frown upon a waste of good food. And for many years, Gort was content.
It happened slowly at first, refugees seeking sanctuary from an army of the undead. Then their numbers increased, until the village was filled to capacity with hysterical survivors. The Duke ordered the gates to the village shut, but the never-ending stream of refugees continued.
Gort ordered Willy to lead the villagers through the back gate to the roads through the mountain pass. At first Willy refused to leave his post, his fellow soldiers. Gort insisted, he told Willy it was imperative to have a soldier lead and protect the villagers so that they would not panic. Gort promised that they would follow as soon as everyone from the village had been evacuated. With much reluctance, Willy left to find Elena and organized the citizens. Willy and Elena then lead the villagers and refugees out the back gate in an organized exodus.
The battlefield was deserted, only the dead and destroyed remained. Checking his compartments, Gort was grateful Daisy’s tools remained intact. Using his only arm, he dragged his torso across the battlefield toward his destroyed companions. He salvaged whatever parts he could find. Some were from larger models, some from smaller. Some from newer and different designs. Whatever worked, whatever fit, Gort could not afford to be choosy. When he arose, Gort’s body was a cannibalized, asymmetrical hulk. He staggered toward the village, but faced only a smoldering mockery of the once thriving community. Gone. Everything and everyone he had loved was gone. And then, he remembered the greenhouse.
Lumbering as fast as he could, Gort hurried to the greenhouse. He was greatly relieved to see it untouched. Gort returned to the village. He searched in vain for survivors. For days, he buried the remains of both his Warforged and human brethren. He wondered if they had brought the villagers enough time to escape. He wondered if Willy and Elena had survived; if anyone he knew and loved had survived. Gathering up what weapons and supplies he could, Gort returned to the greenhouse.
a house was built, made of glass.
Beneath a thousand suns and moons,
the daisies grew, their flowers bloomed.
Many quest to find said flowers,
believing they possess magical powers.
They are but flowers fed by the sun above,
though their roots stem from love.
Their true magic is to remind us ever,
of love eternal and ending never.
Weeks later
Gort was following a dirt trail that, he hoped, would lead him to a main road. Suddenly, he heard the sounds of battle ahead. Racing as fast as he could, Gort came upon a tall carriage pulled by two large Dire Wolves, under attack by a band of Zombies.
“Many thanks for your assistance.” A high-pitched voice exclaimed. “I doubt I could have protected both the wolves, and myself, alone.” Gort still could not see the driver of the carriage.
“Are you headed to the United Center?” The wee voice continued. “If so, hop aboard. It’s still a way off, especially on foot.”
“Statement: Yes, I am answering the ‘Call for Champions’.” Gort replied, in his monotone voice.
“Oh my, it does sound rather self-aggrandizing when one says it out loud, doesn’t it?” The disembodied voice chuckled. “Well, climb aboard m’boy. We’re wasting precious daylight.”
Gort was surprised to see a diminutive human sitting in the driver’s seat: a Halfling. “Sorry about that.” The well-dressed Halfling apologized. “I forgot, I’m so short, the bar just goes over my head.”
“SKREEEE!” Gort laughed, as he remembered a joke, from so very long ago. It was the first time he laughed in weeks. It was the first time he felt anything, besides sorrow, in weeks.
“Good heavens!” The startled Halfling exclaimed. “Did you injure yourself?”
“Declaration: Quite the contrary. I have never felt better.” Gort proclaimed.
“Well then, let’s be off. We have a two-day’s ride ahead of us. But time flies by much quicker, when you have a friend to share the journey with.” The midget mage smiled. Extending his hand, he introduced himself. “Abraham Freeman, at your service.”
“Statement: You may call me Gort.” Gort shook his hand. “Declaration: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” The carriage rumbled and shook, as it merged onto the main road. And, with a cloud of dust, the two companions vanished into the setting sun.
The Village of Newport, 5 years later
“How does it feel to be a father?” Came a shout from the crowd. “What’s his name?” Yelled another.
“His name is Gordon.” William beamed. “We call him Gort.”
“He’s named after my mentor. He taught me about courage and bravery, in both love and war.” William smiled. “All of the villagers and refugees from Tungsten, who call Newport their home now, owe him their lives. Elena and I owe him everything.”
“Sounds like quite a man!” A soldier shouted, raising his stein.
“He was a Warforged, a Warforged who knew more about life and love than any mortal I ever met.” William pulled up a chair. “Let me tell you all about him. . .”
Beginnings and endings. There you have it. The origin of the gentle giant known as Gort. Who knew that the comic-relief member of the team had such a history? Gort is named after the robot in the movie “The Day the Earth Stood Still”, the 1951 kick in the face to the UN to do its job movie, not the horrific 2008 version. Daisy is named after the song Daisy Bell. It is the earliest song sung using computer speech synthesis, as later referenced in the film “2001: A Space Odyssey”. Non-humans have always been used in fiction to explore what qualities makes one human. Gort is no exception. A noble being searching for the meaning of existence, Gort shows us that love is the answer, never a question. Not just love with another individual, but an unending love, hope, faith, and respect for all living beings; past, present, and future. Anyone recognize Brother Blackflint? My evil Cleric PC (see Brother Blackflint, April 2017), now restored to his youth, and an NPC in the current campaign? Who would have ever though he was such a softy at heart? As a bonus, we also saw the origin of Gort and Abraham’s friendship; a friendship still going strong today. Gort, and the army of Tungsten, did indeed hold off the Crimson Empire long enough for the villagers and refugees to find safe haven. Their sacrifice was not in vain. Captain William, Elena, and baby Gort assure us that life, and love, will endure for generations to come.
This story is dedicated to all of the oddities and oddballs who ever dared to love and be loved in return.
As always, your comments are appreciated. Join us next time for more thrilling adventures of: Tales of the Crimson Empire!!!