Scribble: To be expanded into something called "The Immortal."

      With each footstep he took, the trees behind him blossomed, only to give way to leaves that grew and fell in a heartbeat, leaving bare branches to blossom once more. As branches creaked and dripped with dew, depressions left by footsteps soon gave way to moss, then grass, only to wither away and disappear under snow, again and again, gradually hiding any hint of a path. Yet, ahead of him, the path remained clear, the trees still budding with the kiss of spring, and all seemed perfectly still.
      Is this what forever is like? he thought, as ancient eyes drifted along the road ahead.
      He looked at his soft, ageless hands, stopping long enough to be buried beneath snow that would melt away each second. No longer could he feel the cold of winter or warmth of summer's sun; only his sight could tell him of the season's constant shift. Looking into the air, all he could see was the rich blue of a thousand days and nights at once, merging into the richest color he'd ever known.
      "Almost as beautiful as her eyes," he whispered, lost in the wind, as moss slowly overtook his legs. "Almost..."

Freeform: Permanence.

      Hidden beneath faded tattered robes, the lone observer stood upon the rocky shore, lost amidst the mist and crashing waves. From the darkness under its hood, two unblinking golden eyes peered out over the horizon, as though searching for something in the shapeless gray waters. Yet, with a hollow, tinny sigh, the seeker's watchful head lowered, as thin, metallic fingers wrapped tightly around a weathered staff.
      "Able," came a voice from behind, as the ever-vigilant eyes turned to face the newcomer. Clad in a traveler's cloak, she silently approached her companion, her footfalls barely seeming to touch the sodden ground. "Have your senses taken leave of you again, my old friend?" she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
      "No, my young Tesslyn," came the hollow voice in reply, "not yet, at least." Ancient joints clicked and whirred back to life, as the watcher extended an arm to the young traveler, beckoning her to come near. "Come. There is something you must see through the mists."
      A soft smile upon her face, Tesslyn nodded, stumbling over the jagged stones to her mentor. Looking up at the featureless face beneath the cloak, the young traveler patiently waited for Able to speak, as its unblinking eyes flickered with thought. As the waves crashed into the rocks below, she casually brushed little droplets from her short locks, as another splash rang into the air. Without a word, she kept watching over the emaciated shade beside her, the young traveler's shimmering blue eyes made even brighter by all the endless gray.
      "There!" came Able's sudden declaration, as Tesslyn's eyes followed the now-outstretched finger to some hidden point in the sea. As the mists of morning began to part, the shadow of some great and terrible giant emerged, its body rising from the water like some armored warrior of a forgotten time. With a gasp, the young traveler reached inside a small pouch at her side, quickly retrieving a small spyglass without averting her excited gaze.
      "That's a machine, isn't it?" she asked her mentor, peering through the lens at the new discovery. "Like you and the others, only much bigger!"
      "From a time best forgotten," came Abel's sullen reply, as something much like a sigh rattled his metallic body beneath his robe. "There is a reason, my young Tesslyn, why my kind are still here, while the Giants are not. If you are to be one of the Masters of the Gear, you must learn why that is, and hold it ever dear to your heart."
      "And why is that, Able?" the young traveler asked, lowering her spyglass and turning to her mentor.
      "Why, my child, we are here to create," came a synthetic chuckle, as spindly fingers reached for Tesslyn's arm, pulling back the sleeve to reveal ornate patterns atop her mechanical prosthesis. Smiling at the gesture, she watched as Able again turned to the sea, holding her tiny hand in both its own.
      "And they," Able began, again rattling as though heaving some great sigh from within, "were meant to destroy."
      Touching her own mechanical arm, the young traveler's smile gave way to awe, as she retrieved her spyglass once more to gaze upon the giant.
      There, atop an outstretched claw of what once was a hand, a great nest of birds prepared themselves for the day ahead...

Scribble: Growth of a kind.

      Sunlight glinting off of metal latticework, the builder paused before the yet unfinished dome, still enshrouded in its steel cocoon. A fierce wind, enraged at the affront to its desolate plain, threatened to choke ancient joints and gears alike with dust from the ground. Yet, beneath a tattered cloak, the builder simply stood, a humble chuckle ringing beneath the din.
      It will take far more than that, I'm afraid, the builder thought, steadying its metal frame with an ornate iron staff. Your purpose is desolation, while mine...
      As dust settled upon the arid ground, the cocoon once more emerged from the tempest's shroud, shining all the brighter. Heavy footfalls sending dust into the air, the builder began walking toward its creation, unblinking eyes focused upon a single emblem on the dome's exposed face.
      There, carved upon a copper plaque, rose a great and powerful tree from an endless desert...

Scribble: Undead + Robot = this?

      Dangling between spindly, clanking fingers, the strange artifact dangled precariously from its chain, little patches of metal gleaming through the rusted links. Eyes little more than glowing green dots in pools of darkness, the skeletal figure leaned in closer to investigate, placing a free arm against bended knees for balance.
      Cold, gray flesh twisting into a contemplative frown, the detective gradually raised another metal hand, its exposed metal sinews and wires coated in a fine blanket of dust. With delicate precision, a sharp fingertip gently tapped on the ornate brass casing, sending little particles of rust into the air.
      Spinning in the air, the artifact remained otherwise static, casting little particles of rust into the air. Moments passed before, quite suddenly, the side of the strange pendant creaked open, as dust from another time swirled into the ancient air. Startled from his stillness, the detective quickly regained his balance, bringing the exposed surface closer to investigate.
      A quiet tick echoed throughout the catacombs, as the hands of the watch shifted ever so slightly, only to grow still once more. With a frown, the mechanical figure closed the creaking door, clenching the device gently in one hand.
      "I have seen this before..." he began, in a voice choked with dust and gravel. "It once . . . was mine..."

Scribble: What's this? Continuity?

      Mechanical eyes gazed out over the horizon, the lonesome figure standing perfectly still atop a jagged, frail cliff. A fierce wind threatened to rip away the observer's tattered cloak and scarf, holding back only for the great hammer clutched within its brass and copper fist. Paying the interloper no mind, the figure continued to survey the bleak landscape below, punctuated only with earthen spires and the ghosts of mountains long past.
      No life remains, it thought, bowing its heavy, round head in concentration. No . . . life never took roost here, beyond the beast...
      Memories of a single red orb flashed across its mind, the hideous creaks of ancient joints ringing in the air. Returning to the present with a shake of its head, the figure stood in silence for but a moment, before nodding to no one.
      Then this will be our new forge, it thought, turning to the narrow, rocky path leading to the valley below. With heavy steps, the observer began its long descent, wielding the mighty hammer as a staff with each step. Catching the faintest hint of birdsong in the air, it paused, its metal body heaving something like a sigh beneath the rags.
      And perhaps, it thought again, pausing to turn its eyes skyward, life will soon follow.