Door Handle.
Reluctantly you untie your pouch from around your waist.
"Spare me two pennies at least for a meal?" you ask. "I have not eaten today."
A black-toothed grin spreads across the man's face and he snatches the spoils from your hands. "Count your blessings you're still alive," he says.
He plunges his hand into the pouch, and pulls out the strange object. "Eh, what have we here?" He spits on it and rubs at it, the polishing making its metallic surface gleam. He gives you a suspicious look. "Where did ye get this from?" he says. "Stolen is it?"
"Two pennies? I beg of you!"
The hijackers look at one another, and each throws a coin into the mud at your feet. You stoop to pick them up, but a kick to your head throws you to the ground. Stars dance in front of your eyes and in your moment of blindness their mocking laughter transforms into screams of pain and terror.
As your senses clear the horrifying sight of their broken bodies piled in a heap is set before you. Every one of their limbs has been torn from its socket, their lifeless forms folded into impossible shapes.
"Get up, boy."
You rub your eyes and look up to find Ned standing over you, the egg-shaped object in his hand. Had he performed this devillish act? And how? Overwhelmed by fear and grattitude you obey his order.
"Follow me."
You gaze once more at the dead highwaymen. "My pocket..."
"You'll not need it now." He balances the object in the palm of one hand and produces a pendant on a chain. He holds it up, observing the way it swings. "There is little time left," he says.
Beside him, a light begins to glow, brightening into a ball of fire. Its brightness is painful to the eyes, yet there is no heat.
"This is magic..." the words escape your mouth in a whisper, but Ned doesn't reply. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. The light solidifies and dims, leaving in its place a metal cylinder some ten feet long and perhaps four feet wide, lying on its side on the ground.
He extends his hand, the egg-shaped object resting in his palm. Without warning it leaps from his hand and slams hard into the cylinder's metal shell with a loud clang, stuck fast as if held by some magical force.
The sound of tiny cogs whirr inside it. One by one its segments open up, releasing a dozen hinged tentacles. Their tips settle in a circle on the metal surface and melt into it, increasing the object's grip upon the giant cylinder. The ticking of moving metal parts signals the second phase of the metamorphosis, and a lever unfolds from the object's centre. Its elegant drooping design looks just like a door handle.
Ned grasps the lever and pulls on it, and whole handle comes away in in his hand. He examines it, and nods, seemingly with approval. He replaces it on the cylinder and its dozen tentacles embed themselves into the metal once more. This time he pushes, and a section of the cylinder swings inward, as if it were a door. There was no join or hinges here before!
"You may enter, Alf."
"Spare me two pennies at least for a meal?" you ask. "I have not eaten today."
A black-toothed grin spreads across the man's face and he snatches the spoils from your hands. "Count your blessings you're still alive," he says.
He plunges his hand into the pouch, and pulls out the strange object. "Eh, what have we here?" He spits on it and rubs at it, the polishing making its metallic surface gleam. He gives you a suspicious look. "Where did ye get this from?" he says. "Stolen is it?"
"Two pennies? I beg of you!"
The hijackers look at one another, and each throws a coin into the mud at your feet. You stoop to pick them up, but a kick to your head throws you to the ground. Stars dance in front of your eyes and in your moment of blindness their mocking laughter transforms into screams of pain and terror.
As your senses clear the horrifying sight of their broken bodies piled in a heap is set before you. Every one of their limbs has been torn from its socket, their lifeless forms folded into impossible shapes.
"Get up, boy."
You rub your eyes and look up to find Ned standing over you, the egg-shaped object in his hand. Had he performed this devillish act? And how? Overwhelmed by fear and grattitude you obey his order.
"Follow me."
You gaze once more at the dead highwaymen. "My pocket..."
"You'll not need it now." He balances the object in the palm of one hand and produces a pendant on a chain. He holds it up, observing the way it swings. "There is little time left," he says.
Beside him, a light begins to glow, brightening into a ball of fire. Its brightness is painful to the eyes, yet there is no heat.
"This is magic..." the words escape your mouth in a whisper, but Ned doesn't reply. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. The light solidifies and dims, leaving in its place a metal cylinder some ten feet long and perhaps four feet wide, lying on its side on the ground.
He extends his hand, the egg-shaped object resting in his palm. Without warning it leaps from his hand and slams hard into the cylinder's metal shell with a loud clang, stuck fast as if held by some magical force.
The sound of tiny cogs whirr inside it. One by one its segments open up, releasing a dozen hinged tentacles. Their tips settle in a circle on the metal surface and melt into it, increasing the object's grip upon the giant cylinder. The ticking of moving metal parts signals the second phase of the metamorphosis, and a lever unfolds from the object's centre. Its elegant drooping design looks just like a door handle.
Ned grasps the lever and pulls on it, and whole handle comes away in in his hand. He examines it, and nods, seemingly with approval. He replaces it on the cylinder and its dozen tentacles embed themselves into the metal once more. This time he pushes, and a section of the cylinder swings inward, as if it were a door. There was no join or hinges here before!
"You may enter, Alf."