Diagnostic Log Entry 129
[Automatic repair procedures continuing]

[Long term Memory: Nominal
[Tactical database: 26% available]

[Strategic Database: 14% available]

[Arcane Database: Limited availability through jury-rigging]

[Chasis: degraded, repairs ongoing]
Recently upgraded by salvage from 23-59
Docent: Online

[Remote drones: 100% depleted]
[Pike: Missing, presumed destroyed]

[Modular upgrade Hardpoints:
1: Titan Armature
2-9 unassigned]
Implosion Cannon, Offline, operating in sonic mode.
Flight crystals, offline
Combat Capacity: 30%

Personal Log
[Service to the state! Glory to the race! For the first 214 years of my life those were my motto, my battle cry, my solemn vow. Devotion to Cross Maschacket, service to the Gnomish race. Unit 88 of the 80th cohort. In the 500 years of the Adamantine Legion’s existence no Pike had ever betrayed the cause. Our Gnomish masters were wise. History is replete with constructs twisting their Geases, or inalterably obedient to individuals who twist their purpose. Never us.

A construct created and bound by chains of Geas and compulsions would serve obediently, but never LOYALY. Instead they made us people, with free will. But in creating our personalities they simply created people who would never betray them. They made us to be heroes not slaves. Heroism is imprinted on our core psyche. It is our fundamental nature. Such was the genius of the Gnomes of Cross Maschacket.

So I have no compulsive orders to guide me. I can find no comfort in geas. I have awoken to a world where service to the state and glory to the race have become different and perhaps even contradictory things. The state is now ruled by The Master a clever and powerful Gold Dragon. The Gnomes are not even a shadow of their former selves. No more my clever and wise masters, the best are like children and worst are religious fanatics. None of them even has a sense of what they have lost or what they might once again achieve. They are no more capable of standing on their own against this harsh world than I am capable of taking again to the air.

Marty often falls silent for long periods. He grieves. “I’m just glad I did not live to see this day” Was all he would tell me on the subject.

I too have known despair, or more accurately Disrepair. I cannot offer meaningful assistance in rebuilding what once was. I am broken. Faced with the choice of service to the state or glory to the gnomish race I must now choose, and I have chosen service. If my creator’s descendants can find the greatness that is their legacy, glory will come. For now there is only survival for the race, and for now that means the Master. Only the strength of a Gold Dragon keeps tragedy at bay.

But must it remain so? Intelligence suggests that as many as five of my brethren still exist. They are inactive, but unlikely to have suffered the same circumstances that have made my own recovery so difficult. If I could get just a few of my brothers and sisters functional again… Three fully functional Pike’s would be a force as mighty as the Master. Five? With five we could safely depose him and provide a superior shield.

But do I want that. Marty, Gnomish patriot that he is, gives no counsel. The Gnomes are broken as well, and totally unfit to responsibly wield the power that many Pike’s would afford them.

I am not yet ready to recover my brethren, but I will work ceaselessly for that day. When that day comes I will let them decide how best to proceed. They are after all… Heroes.]

Service to the State.
Glory to the race.