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    Automata

    Only the most expert gravitologist and patient tinkerer can design a True Automata.

    Assembled from simple parts, these ancient devices excel at one very specific task. Some place bricks and move laterally, others can stir a soup (but can’t cut vegetable) and some can read a text aloud. A Debarmata only moving part is a 4 axis keyholder.

    The real genius is that they barely require any energy - relying on a finely adjusted set of weights and counterweight, pendulum energy and gravity… or almost. A careful inspection reveals a minuscule power source hidden somewhere that needs to be replaced every 100 years. Only True Automata are accurate perpetual devices.

    While Automatamakers were shunned in their day, their devices are now prized possessions, even in poor condition. Very few people have the expertise to create new Automata, but cloning them is not impossible - just tedious. Radiomata are easily assembled out of discard nails and radio oscillators and can be used to relay messages over long distances. Make sure you have a fair reserve of non-Euclidean springs and weights of irrational numbers.

    Types of Automata
    Slicamata - slices fruits or people.
    Stakamata - assembles perfect stacks of brick sized objects.
    Radiomata - repeats any spoken language aloud.
    Photomata - creates photosensitive record of whatever is placed in front of them.
    Wingomata - floats and drifts to a geocoordinate. may take several days to arrive.
    Serenamata - emits a high pitch whistle sound when someone approaches.

    Pyrochilds

    When you were young, you found a strange piece of coal, egg shaped and soft. You swallowed the ruby-fruit whole and burned your throat and vocal cords.

    With time, your skin will turn coral and bronze, slick and slippery. You wake up with sand in your eyes, half burrowed in the ground, searching for the salamander’s heat.

    You are mute but can breathe terrible fire. Forever young, fiery and mischievous, the world is your flammable playground.

    Was that coal-fruit the egg of your kin?