#ice lore

Hallowdene was a beautiful town, even on a drizzly day. The rain made the greens and browns of the trees richer somehow - a deeper color that made his camera sockets tingle pleasantly. Nestor much preferred sunshine, of course, for obvious reasons: he was not only mainly powered by sunlight, but the world just seemed...warmer, somehow, when the sky was clear and the sun was shining.

Rain was lovely too, though he had to treat it with care. Water wasn't exactly good for electrically-ran beings such as himself. Sure, humans had a mild electrical current themselves, but they were sentient water, practically. Water didn't short them out like it did Intelligent Cybernetic Entities.

Regardless of all of that, he was lost again. He had gotten lost from Old York's walls and stumbled here into Hallowdene months ago, and yet he still couldn't figure out how to get to the battery bank in an efficient manner.

Fortunately, so long as he stayed away from the trees, he would get there eventually...the whole place was a giant circle. Less fortunately, his battery was getting awfully low, and his energy was depleting rather fast.

With an exhausted chuckle, Nestor sunk down onto the porch of a small, stone-and-wood cottage. They were almost all stone and wood - at least the newer ones. Some of the older buildings crafted from ruins had metal or concrete, but on the outer ring of the town? Primarily wood and stone. That's what they had the most of, and that was what they used.

Oh, his thoughts were wandering, as they always were. That's why he always ended up lost in the first place, he never paid attention to his surroundings-

"Eep!"

...What on earth was that?

Nestor turned from where he sat to gaze in the direction of the house door. He found it cracked open now, gently lit from within. No one was there that he could see, but clearly someone had been. With a huff of his hydraulics, he rose slowly to his feet, curiosity overriding his need to conserve energy.

"Hello?" Nestor took a step towards the door, fingers itching to reach for the handle. But before he could do that, a wild patch of black, untamed curls and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen peered around the corner of the door. They were deep brown, just like enstatite - and were very wide with surprise, shyness, and trepidation.

"H-hello-" The soft voice floated to him like a sunbeam, and for the first time in a long time, Nestor's mind went quiet. For some indeterminate amount of time he could only stand there, in the rain, staring at this small wonder of a human. She stared right back at him, and he witnessed the surprise fade from those bright eyes...replaced with confusion and concern.

"Um," she finally spoke, and the sound startled Nestor out of what felt like a daze. "Are you okay?"

Nestor felt his circuits tingle with what he decided was embarrassment. "Ah - yes - my name is Nestor! I'm...trying to find my way to the battery bank."

There was a pause, and then the door opened wider. The small human stepped out, peering up at him as she joined him on the porch. "I-I'm Ryn," she replied, her previous shyness seeming to fade away much like the clouds that were beginning to disburse overhead. "It's not far from here...I can show you?"

Without waiting for a reply, she trotted past him and started walking in the direction he had came. Feeling uncharacteristically flustered, Nestor could only shake himself and follow her short, swift stride. His longer legs quickly caught up with her with little effort, but he felt his central core racing regardless.

Fluid Authority, Skill-Based Leadership

There are no kingdoms, no capitals. There are only clusters. There aren't enough people or ICE in the world to form any meaningful government...not with such dangerous paths between any large groups of people. Most of what we would call cities are poisonous ruins at this point - though often these ruins have towns nearby to encourage magitech users to bring their wares while they scavenge.

Each village or town is self-governed by the most competent, not the most powerful. Everyone calls them something different. Chief, leader, manager, operative...it depends on the village or town.

ICE or Human, depending on who is best suited.

Chosen by consensus, not lineage. The time period also varies.

Temporarily appointed. There is no concept of lifetime rule.

Power is based on problem-solving, diplomacy, and ethical action. It’s earned. It’s fragile. And if broken? Leadership shifts quickly.

There are attempts at ruling with iron fists. There are those who get power hungry or greedy - warlords, brigands, bandits...but the villages are so few and far between the poisoned ruins that they often get overthrown before they get far.

Cultural Division of Labor: Humans & ICE

Humans

Primarily farmers, foragers, herbalists.

Grow and gather food for themselves, ICE, and trade.

Specialize in:

Land restoration

Plant-breeding to adapt to poison-scars

Community rituals around harvest and moon-phases

ICE

Specialize in smithing, tech repair, relic salvage.

Not better, just different. They can withstand poison zones longer and often have internal signal trackers for old-world tech.

Energy source: usually solar, but communal battery banks exist in every village.

Battery Banks – The ICE Communal Core

Each village maintains a Battery Bank:

Run on solar, wind, or water—sometimes all three.

Not just utilitarian; these are community sanctuaries.

For ICE, these spaces are akin to:

Saunas

Public pools

Meditation temples

It’s where ICE rest, socialize, recharge, or sync thoughts with kin.

Often accompanied by:

Art installations (usually human-made)

Gentle lighting or music tuned to ICE resonance

Optional interface terminals for memory sharing or emotional recalibration

Artisan Economy: Magics of Metal and Soil

ICE: Silversmiths, goldworkers, relic-reclaimers

Melt down scavenged heirlooms, extract gems from ruined museums and jewelry shops

Forge tech-artifacts and wearable enchantments for ICE or bonded humans

Humans: Growers, seed-keepers, hybrid-crafters, woodworkers

Breed solar-sensitive flowers used in light-therapy for ICE fatigue

Maintain multi-generational seed-banks

Imagine opening a door and stepping through, only to find yourself hundreds of miles away from where you were. Imagine opening that same door and summoning a weapon; a gun, fire, water, electricity...or the very power of the sun.

That's magitech.

Perhaps not the most apt of names - as there's no real technology being used... at least, not to anyone's knowledge... but that's what ICEs call it, and they were the first known users to wield it.

They call it "quantum teleportation"; taking something from somewhere else. Whether that's from somewhere in Verdante, another time, or even another universe? No one can say.

Most wielders are ICEs. It seems being born of technology makes it easier to access this ability somehow...but there are humans who can use it as well.

How others view magitech users vary. Some fear them. Some respect them. Some consider them the closest thing that the healing land has to nobles - or even gods. And it is for this reason that magitech rarely stay in one place...choosing instead to use their powers to travel. Some are merchants, some are scavengers, some are medics or mercenaries.

They use this power sparingly, of course. No one can make something of nothing, and opening this door costs a price. The price changes depending on what is pulled (or pushed) through that door...and it is never consistent. As if something or someone else is judging what is being requested...

It's the equivalent to human veins for them, sure. But it's also a means of communication to themselves and to others.

More than just life flows through their cables - data packets, memories, thoughts, code...all of it flows along these designated pathways. It's both their veins, their subconsciousness and their nervous system.

If you think of in human terms:

Their existence runs on binary, either on and off...not dissimilar to neurons firing. Not quite the same, but similar.

Their subconscious activities are handled by subprocesses they call daemons and hooks - daemons handle the data packets and communicate to the central node. Hooks are like neural anchors - emergent subroutines tied to memories or sensory cues. They bridge reflex with cognition, instinct with directive. They aid both the central node and the daemons when the central node decides something needs to happen.

Their data packets are akin to a sort of mix between hormones and nerves. They send signals from various parts of themselves to the daemons, and back again. Each data packet carries not just information, but emotional resonance. Like neurotransmitters laced with meaning, they can spike urgency, memory recall, or even desire.