The Mechanic Tradition

Let me know if you've heard this one before.
The story begins with a twilight race grown fat, and the price was their mother.

Arrogant beyond belief, they spoiled their perfect lodge, wasted the world machine.
Who knows what final straw broke the big back?

But one day the landlord decides enough is enough, and the mountains come down, and the magma comes up, and the air goes away, and they are evicted.
The rent comes due and all they have is no deposit, no return. The churning, spitting earth comes to a boil, and billions die, and darkness is upon the face.
The few survivors go deep, deep down into the bowels, into steel tombs, to sweat out their fear and wait, wait for the end.
But even though we had lost faith with the Earth, the Earth, she had not lost faith in us, sending ancient earth angels to forge secret pacts and complete solemn deals with the last men.

Done? Done. A new contract with the landlord.
Then wait through timeless cycles more 'til the tombs are opened and we re-emerge to daylight, and the mystery, and the paradox… the new covenant.
A swarming world where none should be. The reborn creatures of a thousand ages. The tribe: another link in the chain, as it should be.

Fang and claw and muscle and motor; time in overdrive, and the machinery of life.
So here we are today. Gonna roll now. Gonna pace my ancient machine with the ancient creatures, touch the earth, and feel the sun, be consumed by this land and spit out the other side.

My rider and me gonna roll, gonna ride.

Maybe you'll be there, too.

Combat: Beast

Detection: Guidance

Health: Plant

Illusion: Water

Manipulation: Task

Drain: Willpower + Intuition

The Machinato Vitae, the Machinery of Life, is the idea that metahumanity has the power to look upon the world and reason, to come to logical conclusions about the life upon the world, and thus, it is their duty to ensure that everything runs smoothly. The key to this concept is the World Machine, the idea that the planet is a working, churning machine, and it is the task of the mechanic to help maintain it. Everything has a place. Humans need cities as much as squirrels need forests. Even devil rats have a purpose; they feed hell hounds and serve as the backbone of the barrens ecology.

Mechanics as a whole also tend to believe that the world machine is in trouble; the rent is due and metahumanity's been handed an eviction notice. They try to do the best they can to push things along, to give metahumanity those last few minutes they need to gather up the money before it can't be paid any more. Such people tend to stay out in the barrens or in the run-down sections of town. They gravitate to third world regions to replace the shoddy gears and scrape off the rust. They build and repair water purifiers and assist in medical outreach while at the same time, checking on the ecology, aiding in new farming methods, and doing their best to aid the world machine.

            A mechanic also has the tribe, a group of people to which the mechanic is bound, though not beholden to. The mechanic's responsibility is to these people, and vice-versa. In Seattle, the rain comes and greases the wheels of the world machine often, and the mechanic is best at home where the wheels are greasiest, for that is where problems may stem.