The Fleeing Puppet

Three birds sat on their respective branches, singing a happy tune, completely oblivious to the events that would partake in the next few minutes.  Of course, anything after the first three seconds of those minutes would be insignificant to them.  Three whooshing sounds could be heard from the bushes to the left, followed by three wooden objects flying through the air, followed by three birds falling from their branches, darts protruding from their stomachs.  A wooden construct, somewhat monkey-like in form, crawled out from the bushes, heading straight towards its kills.  Without a word, for five holes replaced its mouth, the thing began ripping off the birds’ feathers.  A compartment opened, directly under its shoulder, where it stuffed the bloody feathers.  Inner machinations initiated function, cleaning and tearing the feathers to the proper shape, then sending them to the construct’s shoulder.  On the outside, it picked up some sticks, and placed them in a compartment on top of the opposite shoulder, where they were splintered and shredded until short, fine, pointed sticks were created.  These were moved, by more inner workings, to the same area the feathers had been.  Feathers and sticks were connected, forming a satisfactory supply of darts.  A cobra passed under the wooden thing’s feet, which was picked up.  Pressure was put on the back of its head, forcing its mouth open.  Another compartment, between the feather and the dart rooms, which was filled with cobra venom, then closed.  The darts were dipped into it.  The thing was about to depart when it heard something.  Climbing to the top of a nearby tree, an observation of the surrounding forest was made.  This observation revealed another wooden construct, this one humanoid in appearance.  The new construct looked up, seeing the thing that had its actions described earlier.  A mechanical sound emanated from the intruder, followed by a wooden, tube-shaped object with a blade on its end.  White smoke burst from the end of the tube, along with a loud noise, the smell of sulfur, and a projectile speeding towards its target.  The first construct, which was named Dispersion-dart (the name is given at this time to avoid confusion-it is also pronounced in the French form), leaped out of the way.  A noticeably large hole appeared in the tree it had just left.  The still-nameless machine summoned another tube on its other shoulder, which fired another blast.  When this missed, a smaller tube ejected from one of its wrists, firing a smaller blast.  This attack was evidently more accurate, for the fleeing Dispersion felt a chunk of wood fly off of its lower back.  A second tube was ejected from the second hand, and a careful observer could note two more of these tubes running down its arms.  One of the larger tubes had gone down and come back up again, apparently reloaded.  Just as Dispersion was giving up hope, a third construct appeared.  It was shaped like a Dutch warship, but about the size of a canoe.  Its most distinguishing feature would probably be the three red kite-like projections extending from its sides and top, which served as wings.  The dart-shooter was elated rather than afraid, for this machine was a friend.  It glided low, where Dispersion climbed on a tree and leaped to the kite-ship.  The pursuer was not to be daunted, and continued shooting.  The flying construct opened a compartment on its bottom, which allowed two balls stuffed with a black powder to fall near the shooter’s position.  As could be assumed, a large explosion followed.  When the smoke cleared, the aggressor was seen broken, with a glowing blue mass in the center.  Appendages projected from the mass, which proceeded to pick up nearby pieces and act as if to build something with them.  A passage opened in Dispersion’s back, where air rushed through.  A dart was moved into this passage, where the air pushed it at high speeds.  Sections of the passage closed, forcing the air and dart to an opening in the middle of the machine’s hand.  The dart flew forward, piercing the mass, which quickly died.  While the process may have seemed long in description, the entire thing was done in almost half a second.  Possibly up to ¾ of a second, if it was released from a lower part of the body.  Back to the story.  The dead mass turned black, shrank, and eventually vanished.  Due to this property, none have been able to discover the source of the creatures’ life.  Much to the scientists’ dismay, no one left the mass alive long enough to figure out anything about it.  The flying construct dropped Dispersion off in a small village with huts made of straw and lichen-covered wood.  A hunched figure in a green cloak observed the coming.  “Smiling Ring! Smiling Ring! Your puppet-thing is here!”  It called out in an irritated, gravelly voice.  A gaunt man appeared, taking the wooden creature with him.  Within a hut, the man, whose only clothing of note was a ring with a smiling face etched onto it (hence his name).  He took an odd-looking metal instrument, and placed it on the surface of Dispersion’s arm.  Pain ran through the construct’s body as an olive green liquid poured from the wound the Man With the Smiling Ring created.  He drank of it, trying to keep the disgust out of his face, knowing the pain his puppet felt was worse than the disgusting taste that filled his mouth.  Both of those feelings were worth it, for this liquid was a vitality-giving substance.  It kept away all diseases, and the one who had taught him of it had lived to see his five-hundredth year.  When he was done, the man pulled out several chips of wood and placed them in the wound.  The inner machinations worked with the wood, repairing the wound.  Smiling Ring gave Dispersion some more, noting the wound on its lower back.  The Guild.  Why won’t they leave me alone?  I left, well, was forced out of, the Guild a long time ago.  Why is it a crime for anyone outside the Guild to have a puppet?  I’ve shown myself to be able to control them.  He looked at Dispersion.  At least they won’t bother us on Green land.  The ‘puppet’, as he called at it, looked at his ring with a sense of longing.  Smiling Ring sighed.  “I told you, you can’t have your mind back.  You’re sick.  I have to hold onto it, okay?”  Dispersion showed a sign of regretful acceptance.  Smiling Ring left out the part about him causing the sickness.  He doesn’t need to know that….