Fowler Rebirth

Fowler: Hey are you one of the tutors in this city?

Clovis: I am. What is it you want to know, brother?

Fowler: I simply want to learn the art of combat from the experience of others, I can say that you are at least centuries old

Clovis: Klovis looks at the cyborg with a quizzical glare branded on his face.

"Is that all you wish to learn? Combat? Do you want to learn how to stop a man with your bare hands or do you want to know how to stop an army without moving? I can offer you so much more than mere fighting skills."

Fowler: Fowler replied with a dash of happiness across his face, a wide smile that literally stretches ear to ear because of internal components

"For real? Then I would like to learn both"

Clovis: Klovis smirked.

"You're a very eager canvas, aren't you? Very well,"

He snaps his fingers, melting both himself and Fowler into shadow before re-materializing the duo inside a large room somewhere underneath Paradise.

"Here Victor will have no need to worry about our training disrupting the lives of those he has gathered here. I must confess, however, that I cannot let something as precious as my fighting knowledge be shared without something of equal value given to me in return. Tell me - what do you hold most precious?"

Fowler: "If you are willing to teach, I am willing to learn"

While the transition occurs his sensors recorded numbers that were off the scales, but his system automatically re-calibrates itself to accomodate the new variables in terms of power. Only an idiot would wear a power measuring unit that explodes in their face.

"My Identity" he replied

Clovis: Then we are ready. Should you fail, you shall be no more. Are you prepared for that risk?

Fowler: "Yes, and I am a a believer of the high risk high reward principle"

Clovis: The let us begin,"

Klovis reaches out for Fowler's head, cradling it by the cheekbones in his hands. The eyes embedded in his skull burst into two roaring hot infernos of light - the Demon Eyes - and all other light grows dim. Yet for all the impenetrable darkness, there is still Klovis, a shadow firmly etched against the shadows in a darkness blacker than the void.

"Thou art I..."

Fowler, even in his mechanical state, would feel as if his circuits had grown a human-like conscience and were suddenly on fire. The pain would be immense for him to keep staring into the pits of Klovis' eyes, yet he would be unable to break the vampire lord's grip.

"And I am thou..."

Baring his fangs, Klovis prepared to make Fowler one of his own through hellish alchemy transmutating steel to flesh and oil to blood. A gout of red squirted from the horrendous wound, falling to black on the floor. For as long as Klovis remained in contact with Fowler, he was human. For as long as he was human, he was Klovis' prey.

But at least Fowler would have his knowledge.

Fowler: Fowler stood perplexed as the palm made contact with his humanoid cheek bones, then the man activated his eye lights burning like a lighthouse in the midst of the storm. A few mutterings that begets transmutation of his mechanical components, slowly entwining his body from the head. Magic that acts like a cancerous vine, claiming his head and crawling down to seize the rest of his body. Fowler used the base of his palm to strike his eyes, forcing them to affix upon the draconic entity, this is a test in observation as the body is a test in human perspective. Whether this lasts ephemeral or never-ending the machine in the man stood strong, having built to last others as normal men die. Red that did not previously exist spontaneously gushed from an open wound, spraying out like a geyser giving contrast to the shadow world. He deducted that this was an illusion of the highest level, one that fools not only the five senses but one that reaches under the soul to the very fabric of being. For one without a soul this reaches deeper into the origins, slipping between foundations and building blocks to rename the very concept of another. The grip is still adamant , all fowler did is take a step forward. One eye red, the other blood shot with a mirrored gaze.

Clovis: The foundation of identity of the entity known as Fowler, forever stained with blood he was never meant to shed. But it also wore the stain of something far darker. In the midst of the struggle between science and foul magic, the essence of a man who should have died long ago touched upon the bedrock of Fowler's very universal core. Klovis stained that particular article of creation with his corrosive presence like he had stained so many others. Even now, Fowler could hear the cries of his brothers and sisters who had joined in Klovis' insidious purpose. Millions of them cried out in undead agony. Forever locked inside of their unholy master, never to partake in the joys of Heaven, the agony of Hell, or the boredom of Purgatory. Now Fowler joined them, an automaton among the masses of tortured souls.

Only then did Klovis release him.

The transfer of identity and warrior prowess had been complete, but the vampire lord had taken the lion's share of the bargain and retained his own mastery of warfare.

The shadows disappeared and the gentle grace of artificial light hung over them like a buzzing fog. Klovis stood over Fowler with a cruel smile on his face.

"Stand up. Show me what you have learned."

Fowler: Fowler gazed upon the abyss of tortured souls and laughed maniacally, his laughter matching the gaps of their cacophonies echoes of pain further fueling his blood knight urges. Every soul spiraling in sight a data byte in his programming to instill cracks upon the very foundation of others, he looked through the abyss and he has found nirvana. What other sought as a visage of hell was a tiny piece of heaven embedded in the body of an odd entity, simply to say he wanted more because millions of souls only amount to a megabyte which is a minuscule quantity on its own. He saw it as a personal journey to add more 'worthy' souls into the grinding wheels of this being. This void must be filled, a perfect creature that is fare from its completion. The vision faded as the grip removes itself, a farewell that will return as a greeting sometimes in the future. This transfer gave him the object, not he control but enough to develop into something which he can call as his own.

Taking several characteristics his body transformed as his muscles visibly grew out their previous configuration, his body can only be claimed in the grounds of battle in the field onf men, his hands reforged with centuries of weapons experience within them, his mind exploded with battle information ranging from sun-tzu then throughout the ages, and the magic that was absent in Fowler emerges as the shadows mend the external impurieties, replacing the taint from the entity with its own. A new being by binding the unnatural bleeding openings that once were never, reinforcing previously broken bones essentially enhancing them with a coat of darkness, and fixing dislocated joints, piercing the flesh from within the darkness with thin barbs and spikes if of pitch black shadows. He roared which created a turbulence within the materialized room.

He is baptized by the darkness and reborn anew, smug about being earlier than peregrine.

Clovis: "Welcome to Paradise...Sir Paradigm..."

Fowler: "Thank you grand entity, although I do not feel the urge to reanimate the dead I feel that my tattoos may be alive"

Recorded within the data log archives

Potential powers not yet explored after the rebirth into Sir Paradigm

They are the bastardized version of the source's power because of the interference during the transfer

Warmech

"I would like to be the first prototype for the soul core tests actuality, It would be a new and nicer way to replenish depleted energy and to maintain a steady reserve of power. These robots will follow Tilden's laws of robotics as I have followed and lived by, not that racist Asimov. Where, 1 A robot must protect its existence at all costs, 2 A robot must obtain and maintain access to its own power source. and lastly 3 A robot must continually search for better power sources. However they will only use a bit of the soul cores 30% for their continued existence, as scarcity is needed to improve hunger. A drive to boost morale in the expropriation of souls. 70% will be given to you by a form of wireless but secure transfer. They will be sent to places to provide you a steady surplus of power at rates unimaginable, send one over to make a factory somewhere and have them replicate to take over. I propose the application of a classic perpetual motion gears to prevent annoying technopaths to desecrating tradition. They will be made from hard alloys of unearthly composition, they will fume out dark energy smog that will erase the view of the sun, they will know no fear, they will move unrelentless, they will spread your reach upon this little blue rock and then more. They are your iron hand that will seize the parasite of freedom, they are your fist in which you will shatter opposition. They are the warmech. "

- Sir Paradigm to Knight Leader Klovis

The Warmech captures and collect recently deceased souls in their central cores