CERAMIC DM March 2012
Ceramic DM R2M2
[sblock] The door to Jack’s rented room eased open when Beth knocked on it, startling her. She nearly took off down the poorly lit hallway, but the importance of her task made her stiffen her spine and step inside. The village was depending on her; she could do this.
The haze of smoke in the hallway had not penetrated Jack’s quarters, Beth noticed first, though there was still some in the air here. And the second thing she realized was that the newspapers hadn’t lied or exaggerated about his condition, as she had assumed they did.
"You can leave the tray on the…” Jack trailed off when he set down his book and looked up to direct the serving woman he expected to the table in the corner of the room. “Beth Henley? Who let you leave Ogden? Does your mother know you're in the big, bad city?"
Beth forced a smile, though her hands clenching her skirts probably tipped Jack off to her sudden panic. Knowing Jack was cursed had not prepared her for the reality of seeing him in person.
Jack, whom she’d known since childhood as dark-haired, blue-eyed and carelessly handsome was now literally a skeleton of a man. Dressed in an expensive gentleman's suit, complete with top hat, he was reclining back on a blanket draped over a mass of pillows. He held a cigarette holder to his teeth, head tilted slightly as he, she presumed, took in her own appearance. Beth didn't know for sure what he was looking at as he no longer had eyes to see with, but she ran a hand self-consciously over the worn blue cotton skirt of her dress. She wished she’d taken a moment to wash the dust of travel from her skin, to run a comb through her blonde ponytail.
What had his question been, she wondered after another uncomfortable minute of silence. “She does know. I came looking for you.”
Jack put a monocle to one empty eye socket. "Whyever for?"
Beth tucked her hands into the pockets in her dress. "We need your help. At least, I'm hoping you're able to help." When Jack didn't have an immediate response to this, Beth fidgeted. It was uncomfortable not being able to read any facial expressions; Jack had always had an expressive face. "We can pay you, of course."
Jack snorted, tapping the cigarette holder on his knee, sending ashes to the floor. He set it back in his mouth, and then lifted the blanket. Beth realized that what she'd thought were pillows were actually sacks with dollar signs on the side. ((IMAGE #4))
"You're kidding, right?" Beth moved closer to rub a hand over the sack.
"Would I do that?" Jack said. "You couldn't afford me, anyways."
Beth sighed, stepping away from him and wrapping her arms around her body. “We can’t afford anyone, Jack.”
He chuckled, mirthlessly, “I’m your last resort, then? Gentleman Jack, hero of the people, a last resort.” He snickered to himself and then got to his feet to pace away from her.
"We need you. I need you. Just for this one thing, and then I swear, I’ll never come looking for you again" Jack shook his head, and Beth wondered just how much he had changed over the years. There was a time when he would have done anything for the people he loved. Did he no longer love any of them, or was he just too selfish, too full of his own hype to help?
All the cards on the table then, Beth decided. "Our problem is with the Burial Tower. At least, that’s what we think."
Jack leaned against the wall, hands moving to straighten his necktie. "What?"
"People have heard things in the woods at night. Mindy McClury saw the drapes moving, and Mr. Gellson’s prized pig was torn apart. The bite marks were definitely, ah, human.” She swallowed hard. “There haven't been any attacks on the villagers, but I think it's only a matter of time. And you know what everyone's like - we're not fighters, Jack. Not like you."
"What about the watch?"
"Ned Clarkson with a crossbow he doesn't know how to load properly and Davey Hudd with that rusty short sword are not going to protect the village from a fly let alone an attack of undead." Beth shook her head. "Come back with me, it'll take maybe two days out of your busy life. If it's nothing, you lose nothing. But maybe...." She trailed off because she didn't want to make any promises.
The scuttlebutt around the city was that Jack was looking for a way to remove the curse responsible for his skeletal appearance. Now, having seen him, Beth had to believe that was true.
Because necromancers had been known to use blood crystals to animate and control the undead, it was the prevailing theory that he required one of the rare crystals to undo the curse. But no one had seen one in years because they'd all been destroyed when the necromancers were purged. But maybe, maybe if the dead in the Tower had been woken up, maybe then Jack would find a crystal there.
It was a lot of maybes, but Jack must have decided it was worth a shot. "You need time to pack up?"
“No, I travelled light," Beth said. Jack grabbed a pack from the foot of the bed, slipping a belt around his waist with sheathed sword and a rack of daggers along the back. He bowed deeply then, holding the door open for her. "Lead on."
She glanced at the pile of sacks, and Jack’s voice was full of amusement and something else, something regretful, “Leave them. No one would dare steal from Gentleman Jack.”
***
The Burial Tower was more impressive than Jack remembered. ((IMAGE 1)) Five storeys high, it had nearly been reclaimed by the forest in which it was built - probably would have been if the local flora didn't refuse to grow over the windows that marked each of the individual burial chambers. Drapes that were grey from sun exposure and dust hung in them all, most drawn open to let in the light. The fountain at the top, dedicated to a deity of the afterlife, though Jack couldn't remember which one, was bubbling away, water spilling down over the side of the building.
"Anyone ever figure out what feeds it?" He asked, dismounting off of his horse. He patted the sorrel's nose, pleased that the horse was still willing to seat him. A lesser animal might have been frightened by his appearance.
The view of the Tower from the cliff they stood on was rather lovely, Jack had to admit. And the fresh air was a nice change from the suffocating closeness of the city. The curse had stripped him down to his bones, but he still retained his strength, sight, sense of smell. He still felt emotions and could think – which reassured him that he wasn’t simply undead.
No, it was almost like his flesh, organs, skin, all of it was invisible rather than gone. But he'd done enough experiments to know better. Jack wondered if the witch who cursed him knew what hell it was to be able to smell food but not eat it, to still feel desire but not be able to act on it. He watched as Beth dismounted beside him, appreciating the easy grace of her movements before forcing himself to focus on the Tower again.
Beth shrugged. "I don't know. Magic? Divine influence? Or maybe there's a complicated water system inside the Tower. I've never been inside, so I really don't know. I don’t think anyone has, before now."
"Never? Why exactly did they send you to figure this thing out?" Jack asked, shaking his head.
"I volunteered, actually. And everyone thought I had the best chance of convincing you to help," she turned away but not quickly enough for him to miss the blush that pinked her cheeks.
Jack watched her as she fussed with her horse, checked the little bottle of holy water she carried in a pouch at her hip, the long knives, and so on. He wondered if she still thought about him, if she'd married someone or settled into a life alone since he had left. He hadn't wanted to ask while they travelled here from the city, still didn't want to hear the answer.
A decrepit-looking hanging bridge connected the Tower to the cliff on which they stood. At the other side was a wooden door, barred from the outside.
"Is the barricade new?" Jack asked as he moved to test the wood slats of the bridge.
"It wasn't there when I left," she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
"You want to turn back, head home? I can go in alone," Jack offered. "I know you must be worried."
"No, I can do the most good here," Beth said, forcing her shoulders back.
Jack was amused. He remembered that look of determination. She was going to see this right to the bitter end, even if only to prove to him that she could. He hoped that she wouldn't get in his way, because there was a vast gap between well-meaning and useful.
"Let me test the-"
Beth breezed past him before he could finish the warning. She moved nimbly from plank to plank stopping only when she stepped onto the Tower's doorstep.
"If someone was able to get across and nail this thing on….” She let Jack connect the dots as she wedged the blade of one of her older knives under a nail.
Jack quickly crossed to her. "What if they'd loosened some of the planks, hoping to kill-"
"You think anyone in Ogden believes a fifty foot fall is going to kill a zombie or a, ah, skeleton?"
Jack touched her chin with his gloved finger, waiting until she looked at his skull. "Hard to say it, isn't it?" It was the first time she’d verbally, though obliquely, acknowledged his condition.
She pushed his hand away, "But harder to live with, I imagine."
"Oh yes," Jack said, touching the brim of his hat. "Much harder. I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like this."
One of Beth’s eyebrows lifted as she worked on freeing the nail from the board, "Why not?"
"I wouldn’t like it if you had nightmares of me, like this," Jack said.
"I've already had my fill of nightmares starring you." She flipped him another knife. "Enough talk, get to work."
Whoever had boarded up the Tower had done a thorough job if not a very skillful one. It took them the better part of ten minutes to pull out all the nails. All the work was done in silence, which suited Beth but left Jack feeling unsettled. He wanted to ask about her life after he had left, wanted to apologize for leaving with no notice. She had to have been expecting a proposal, a life together, and he'd been a real jerk to abandon her. Trying to explain now that he’d needed to go out into the world, to see as much of it as he could, well, it just didn’t seem adequate.
When the last nail popped free, Jack chucked the board to the ground. "I'd say ladies first, but...." He pushed the door open.
"Ever the gentleman," Beth said, rolling her eyes. She glanced at the forest around them before following him into the unknown.
***
The entranceway of the Tower was a gorgeous, dusty chamber with intricate stone carvings of the afterlife all over the walls and ceilings. The view was completely ruined by the musty odor that permeated the place. Years of being closed up, of molding fabric and decomposition had created a unique and unmarketable perfume.
"The floor," Jack nodded at the dust trails worn through it. Someone or something had definitely moving around in here recently. "Would anyone have looked inside when they came to board it up?”
"I doubt it," Beth said.
"Then we may have company," Jack glanced behind them at the afternoon light.
"We'll have a few hours before there's any, ah, undead activity, right?" Beth said. “Nothing before dark?”
Jack took his hat off and ran a glove over his head. “I’m not really an expert.”
Beth stared at him, and then started to laugh.
His shoulders rose defensively, “It’s never been pertinent to my work.”
"Right," Beth grinned. She reached into the pouch at her side and produced two small balls of clay, which she began manipulating in one hand, rotating them from palm to fingertips and back.
"Feel any better?" Jack assumed the balls were for stress.
Beth shook her head, "No, I've learned a few tricks since you knew me."
Knew me. Jack opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. When Beth held up the balls for him to see, he was shocked to discover a little ear on one, and an eye on the other.
"You've taken up witchcraft?" Disapproval made his voice thick.
"Someone needs to take over for Delia," Beth bent down to roll the balls down the hallway. Jack remembered Delia as seeming ancient ten years ago when he left Ogden. She was the resident healer, the village not large enough to attract a proper doctor. Beth murmured a few quiet words and a glowing blue ball appeared over her shoulder, granting them enough light to see by.
They both stared into the murky darkness, waiting for the balls to return.
"I'm surprised you would do it. You never seemed too interested in magic. Distrustful of it, even," Jack said.
She shrugged. "I saw a need, and moved to fill it." She hesitated, and then asked, "Does it bother you? Given your condition, I mean."
"Did you want to confess to being the witch who did this?"
Beth's eyes were wide as she shook her head frantically in the negative. "Oh, gods, no. Never."
"Then no,” Jack mimicked her tone, “it doesn't bother me, given my condition.” He added under his breath, “Bothers me to think of you stuck in Ogden. Not that I ever expected you to leave.”
"Neither did I," Beth acknowledged, quietly.
They were saved from additional small talk by the return of the two balls. They rolled up into Beth’s hand, travelling slowly up her dress. Once they were settled, Beth ordered, “Report!”
The ear shrank back into its ball, and the eye slowly sank out of sight. The surfaces of the balls twitched on Beth's palm, and then they both rocked back and forth until the clay had split open into mouths, complete with lips, teeth and tongues. ((IMAGE 3))
The first ball began to speak, tone monotonous, enunciating each word carefully. "Quiet. A trickle of water."
The second added, "Burial chambers, none sealed. Dark figures in each, no movement. Spiral staircase down."
“Useful,” Jack acknowledged with a tilt of his head, “but not very detailed.”
“Only with me to direct them, before you ask,” Beth said, unable to keep from smiling. “And I’ve been working on it. Normally I only use them when I’m too exhausted to stay up with a patient, and there’s no one available to do it. They work adequately as a sort of alarm system.”
“Fair enough,” Jack drew his sword and nodded to the hallway. “Stay behind me; try to let me be of some use on this little adventure you’ve dragged me.”
Beth inclined her head, “After you.”
They quickly settled into the same pattern for each floor of the tower - the balls would scout first for signs of trouble, then they searched the rooms quickly, trying to find anything that would explain the reanimation of the dead.
Jack found a trap on the level just about ground, a simple pressure plate that triggered several spears thrusting out of the wall. Their points scraped against the opposite wall before the weapons retracted out of sight.
“I guess these people were serious about being left alone to enjoy their afterlives,” Beth remarked as Jack put a finger through a hole in his hat.
“We’ll have to go more slowly,” Jack grunted, putting the hat back on his head. “Where there’s one trap, there tends to be more.” Sure enough, most of the chambers on that floor contained a pressure plate somewhere in the entry way. Nearly half had speared someone – Jack tended to believe they were the bodies of the reanimated occupants, but Beth suggested they might be grave robbers who had deserved what they’d gotten. The stubborn jutting out of her chin told Jack that she didn’t really believe they deserved any such thing, but was determined to play it cool.
Finally they reached the lowest level of the tower. It was subterranean, and a large, open space. At first, they saw only stalagmites rising from the cave floor, the debris from rock that had fallen off the ceiling. But then Jack saw it. "There," he flicked a finger towards a rock pillar that rose near the centre of the chamber. It was a little different from the rest, the head bigger than the base, the stem grooved slightly. Perhaps many years ago, the pillar had been decorative, but time had not been kind to it. ((IMAGE 2))
Beth stepped from the staircase, heading towards the centre of the room, with Jack right beside her. Her eyes never left the large red crystal seated atop it. "Is it...?”
"A blood crystal,” Jack barely breathed the words.
"How is it supposed to work?” Beth asked. As they’d descended through the Tower, Jack had told her a little about the curse, the coven he’d been hired to kill when they’d been found sacrificing humans to reinforce their power. She knew one of them had cast the spell, but Jack had been pretty vague about.
Jack shook his head as though coming out of a trance. "Magic," he shrugged. "But the application of blood should-"
A cackle interrupted Jack’s explanation, growing louder and then tapering off as it echoed back at them from the walls of the cavern.
“Uh, hello?” Beth said, ducking down when Jack whipped around to look at her.
“Stay low, stay quiet,” Jack hissed.
“Too late now, Jack, my boy,” the witch moved from the shadows, rubbing her hands together. Her fingers were tipped with long, curling claws; her hair was a wild grey cloud around her head. She wore mismatched clothing: all brilliant, clashing colours that emphasized the sickly pallor of her skin.
“Kamila,” Jack said¸ moving to put himself between the witch and Beth.
“That’s far enough,” Kamila said. Jack stopped moving, aware now that she was not the only thing the shadows had contained.
“I though you killed the witch that cursed you?” Beth hissed.
“So did I,” Jack said.
“I’m harder to kill than that,” Kamila crowed. “Harder than that.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jack asked.
“Finishing what I started when I cursed you,” Kamila moved towards him, her gait an odd shuffle-hop. “You ruined everything! You were supposed to be reviled, reduced to hiding, hunted because you finally looked like the monster you are.” Kamila said, pointing a finger at him. "You silver-tongued bastard, you twisted the truth, you made them love you. They honoured you for your 'sacrifice!' What about MY sacrifice?"
“Your sacrifices are why I had to put an end to your coven,” Jack grunted.
Kamila snarled at him, “You should have done a better job.” She snapped her fingers and from the shadows around the edges of the room, undead began to stumble forwards. Beth’s stomach turned as she saw the long-dead corpses moving slowly around the debris on the ground, their eyes filled with an unnatural hatred for the living.
“Beth, run, get out of here!” Jack shouted, pulling a pair of daggers from the sheaths at his back and throwing them at the witch.
Kamila waved a hand, murmuring a few arcane words and redirected the weapons into the wall.
Beth watched, paralyzed by fear as Jack charged at witch, his sword raised. The old woman would have been feeble if not for the strength she drew from her magic. Jack was quick on his feet, dodging the bolts of fire and ice that the witch threw as he tried to close enough to strike her. The blasts broke the rock formations, sending chunks flying through the room. A small piece flew across Beth’s cheek, the pain drawing her out of her trance.
She touched her fingers to her cheek, to soothe the pain, and came away with blood on them.
Surrounded by corpses shuffling steadily closer, Beth looked around frantically for an escape route.
“The crystal, destroy it!” Jack huffed as he somersaulted under a blast of fire and slashed at the witch’s body. She screamed, but retaliated with a shot that struck him in the chest, sending him back into a stalagmite.
Beth darted to the crystal, ducking low to use the rocks as cover should the witch’s attention shift from Jack. The undead loomed ever closer, and Beth flinched away from their outstretched hands, grabbing the crystal as she ducked and weaved away from them.
Holding the crystal up, Beth shouted at Kamila, who was grinning while she watched Jack lurch to his feet, “Leave us alone!”
“Put the crystal down, neophyte. I could teach you so much, show you so much. Be smart now, girl, there’s a whole world beyond-“
Beth slashed her left palm with one of her knives, squeezing so her blood would flow. Staring defiantly at Kamila, she rubbed her hand over the crystal, coating it in blood. The crystal absorbed it all, the colour getting murky where blood had soaked through.
Kamila screamed obscenities as the undead all fell as one. Jack seized, rising up on his toes as his body shook before collapsing to the ground.
Beth felt the lightning slam into her, jolting her off of her feet. She was barely conscious enough to raise the crystal, slamming it into the ground before Kamila could get the angle for another bolt. Beth heard rather than saw the witch’s agony. She closed her eyes, willing her body to move, gritting her teeth when the witch went silent.
It took nearly four minutes for Beth to gather herself enough to drag her body towards Jack’s lifeless body. She focused on a patch of dust on his trousers as she slowly hauled herself towards him, battling nausea.
Finally, she lay on the ground beside him, reaching over to remove his hat. She gasped, and then grimaced in pain.
Jack’s face was starting to reform, muscles and tendons and skin blooming across his skull. Beth took his hand in hers, letting her head rest on the ground while she waited for him….
The End.
[/sblock]
[sblock] The door to Jack’s rented room eased open when Beth knocked on it, startling her. She nearly took off down the poorly lit hallway, but the importance of her task made her stiffen her spine and step inside. The village was depending on her; she could do this.
The haze of smoke in the hallway had not penetrated Jack’s quarters, Beth noticed first, though there was still some in the air here. And the second thing she realized was that the newspapers hadn’t lied or exaggerated about his condition, as she had assumed they did.
"You can leave the tray on the…” Jack trailed off when he set down his book and looked up to direct the serving woman he expected to the table in the corner of the room. “Beth Henley? Who let you leave Ogden? Does your mother know you're in the big, bad city?"
Beth forced a smile, though her hands clenching her skirts probably tipped Jack off to her sudden panic. Knowing Jack was cursed had not prepared her for the reality of seeing him in person.
Jack, whom she’d known since childhood as dark-haired, blue-eyed and carelessly handsome was now literally a skeleton of a man. Dressed in an expensive gentleman's suit, complete with top hat, he was reclining back on a blanket draped over a mass of pillows. He held a cigarette holder to his teeth, head tilted slightly as he, she presumed, took in her own appearance. Beth didn't know for sure what he was looking at as he no longer had eyes to see with, but she ran a hand self-consciously over the worn blue cotton skirt of her dress. She wished she’d taken a moment to wash the dust of travel from her skin, to run a comb through her blonde ponytail.
What had his question been, she wondered after another uncomfortable minute of silence. “She does know. I came looking for you.”
Jack put a monocle to one empty eye socket. "Whyever for?"
Beth tucked her hands into the pockets in her dress. "We need your help. At least, I'm hoping you're able to help." When Jack didn't have an immediate response to this, Beth fidgeted. It was uncomfortable not being able to read any facial expressions; Jack had always had an expressive face. "We can pay you, of course."
Jack snorted, tapping the cigarette holder on his knee, sending ashes to the floor. He set it back in his mouth, and then lifted the blanket. Beth realized that what she'd thought were pillows were actually sacks with dollar signs on the side. ((IMAGE #4))
"You're kidding, right?" Beth moved closer to rub a hand over the sack.
"Would I do that?" Jack said. "You couldn't afford me, anyways."
Beth sighed, stepping away from him and wrapping her arms around her body. “We can’t afford anyone, Jack.”
He chuckled, mirthlessly, “I’m your last resort, then? Gentleman Jack, hero of the people, a last resort.” He snickered to himself and then got to his feet to pace away from her.
"We need you. I need you. Just for this one thing, and then I swear, I’ll never come looking for you again" Jack shook his head, and Beth wondered just how much he had changed over the years. There was a time when he would have done anything for the people he loved. Did he no longer love any of them, or was he just too selfish, too full of his own hype to help?
All the cards on the table then, Beth decided. "Our problem is with the Burial Tower. At least, that’s what we think."
Jack leaned against the wall, hands moving to straighten his necktie. "What?"
"People have heard things in the woods at night. Mindy McClury saw the drapes moving, and Mr. Gellson’s prized pig was torn apart. The bite marks were definitely, ah, human.” She swallowed hard. “There haven't been any attacks on the villagers, but I think it's only a matter of time. And you know what everyone's like - we're not fighters, Jack. Not like you."
"What about the watch?"
"Ned Clarkson with a crossbow he doesn't know how to load properly and Davey Hudd with that rusty short sword are not going to protect the village from a fly let alone an attack of undead." Beth shook her head. "Come back with me, it'll take maybe two days out of your busy life. If it's nothing, you lose nothing. But maybe...." She trailed off because she didn't want to make any promises.
The scuttlebutt around the city was that Jack was looking for a way to remove the curse responsible for his skeletal appearance. Now, having seen him, Beth had to believe that was true.
Because necromancers had been known to use blood crystals to animate and control the undead, it was the prevailing theory that he required one of the rare crystals to undo the curse. But no one had seen one in years because they'd all been destroyed when the necromancers were purged. But maybe, maybe if the dead in the Tower had been woken up, maybe then Jack would find a crystal there.
It was a lot of maybes, but Jack must have decided it was worth a shot. "You need time to pack up?"
“No, I travelled light," Beth said. Jack grabbed a pack from the foot of the bed, slipping a belt around his waist with sheathed sword and a rack of daggers along the back. He bowed deeply then, holding the door open for her. "Lead on."
She glanced at the pile of sacks, and Jack’s voice was full of amusement and something else, something regretful, “Leave them. No one would dare steal from Gentleman Jack.”
***
The Burial Tower was more impressive than Jack remembered. ((IMAGE 1)) Five storeys high, it had nearly been reclaimed by the forest in which it was built - probably would have been if the local flora didn't refuse to grow over the windows that marked each of the individual burial chambers. Drapes that were grey from sun exposure and dust hung in them all, most drawn open to let in the light. The fountain at the top, dedicated to a deity of the afterlife, though Jack couldn't remember which one, was bubbling away, water spilling down over the side of the building.
"Anyone ever figure out what feeds it?" He asked, dismounting off of his horse. He patted the sorrel's nose, pleased that the horse was still willing to seat him. A lesser animal might have been frightened by his appearance.
The view of the Tower from the cliff they stood on was rather lovely, Jack had to admit. And the fresh air was a nice change from the suffocating closeness of the city. The curse had stripped him down to his bones, but he still retained his strength, sight, sense of smell. He still felt emotions and could think – which reassured him that he wasn’t simply undead.
No, it was almost like his flesh, organs, skin, all of it was invisible rather than gone. But he'd done enough experiments to know better. Jack wondered if the witch who cursed him knew what hell it was to be able to smell food but not eat it, to still feel desire but not be able to act on it. He watched as Beth dismounted beside him, appreciating the easy grace of her movements before forcing himself to focus on the Tower again.
Beth shrugged. "I don't know. Magic? Divine influence? Or maybe there's a complicated water system inside the Tower. I've never been inside, so I really don't know. I don’t think anyone has, before now."
"Never? Why exactly did they send you to figure this thing out?" Jack asked, shaking his head.
"I volunteered, actually. And everyone thought I had the best chance of convincing you to help," she turned away but not quickly enough for him to miss the blush that pinked her cheeks.
Jack watched her as she fussed with her horse, checked the little bottle of holy water she carried in a pouch at her hip, the long knives, and so on. He wondered if she still thought about him, if she'd married someone or settled into a life alone since he had left. He hadn't wanted to ask while they travelled here from the city, still didn't want to hear the answer.
A decrepit-looking hanging bridge connected the Tower to the cliff on which they stood. At the other side was a wooden door, barred from the outside.
"Is the barricade new?" Jack asked as he moved to test the wood slats of the bridge.
"It wasn't there when I left," she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
"You want to turn back, head home? I can go in alone," Jack offered. "I know you must be worried."
"No, I can do the most good here," Beth said, forcing her shoulders back.
Jack was amused. He remembered that look of determination. She was going to see this right to the bitter end, even if only to prove to him that she could. He hoped that she wouldn't get in his way, because there was a vast gap between well-meaning and useful.
"Let me test the-"
Beth breezed past him before he could finish the warning. She moved nimbly from plank to plank stopping only when she stepped onto the Tower's doorstep.
"If someone was able to get across and nail this thing on….” She let Jack connect the dots as she wedged the blade of one of her older knives under a nail.
Jack quickly crossed to her. "What if they'd loosened some of the planks, hoping to kill-"
"You think anyone in Ogden believes a fifty foot fall is going to kill a zombie or a, ah, skeleton?"
Jack touched her chin with his gloved finger, waiting until she looked at his skull. "Hard to say it, isn't it?" It was the first time she’d verbally, though obliquely, acknowledged his condition.
She pushed his hand away, "But harder to live with, I imagine."
"Oh yes," Jack said, touching the brim of his hat. "Much harder. I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like this."
One of Beth’s eyebrows lifted as she worked on freeing the nail from the board, "Why not?"
"I wouldn’t like it if you had nightmares of me, like this," Jack said.
"I've already had my fill of nightmares starring you." She flipped him another knife. "Enough talk, get to work."
Whoever had boarded up the Tower had done a thorough job if not a very skillful one. It took them the better part of ten minutes to pull out all the nails. All the work was done in silence, which suited Beth but left Jack feeling unsettled. He wanted to ask about her life after he had left, wanted to apologize for leaving with no notice. She had to have been expecting a proposal, a life together, and he'd been a real jerk to abandon her. Trying to explain now that he’d needed to go out into the world, to see as much of it as he could, well, it just didn’t seem adequate.
When the last nail popped free, Jack chucked the board to the ground. "I'd say ladies first, but...." He pushed the door open.
"Ever the gentleman," Beth said, rolling her eyes. She glanced at the forest around them before following him into the unknown.
***
The entranceway of the Tower was a gorgeous, dusty chamber with intricate stone carvings of the afterlife all over the walls and ceilings. The view was completely ruined by the musty odor that permeated the place. Years of being closed up, of molding fabric and decomposition had created a unique and unmarketable perfume.
"The floor," Jack nodded at the dust trails worn through it. Someone or something had definitely moving around in here recently. "Would anyone have looked inside when they came to board it up?”
"I doubt it," Beth said.
"Then we may have company," Jack glanced behind them at the afternoon light.
"We'll have a few hours before there's any, ah, undead activity, right?" Beth said. “Nothing before dark?”
Jack took his hat off and ran a glove over his head. “I’m not really an expert.”
Beth stared at him, and then started to laugh.
His shoulders rose defensively, “It’s never been pertinent to my work.”
"Right," Beth grinned. She reached into the pouch at her side and produced two small balls of clay, which she began manipulating in one hand, rotating them from palm to fingertips and back.
"Feel any better?" Jack assumed the balls were for stress.
Beth shook her head, "No, I've learned a few tricks since you knew me."
Knew me. Jack opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. When Beth held up the balls for him to see, he was shocked to discover a little ear on one, and an eye on the other.
"You've taken up witchcraft?" Disapproval made his voice thick.
"Someone needs to take over for Delia," Beth bent down to roll the balls down the hallway. Jack remembered Delia as seeming ancient ten years ago when he left Ogden. She was the resident healer, the village not large enough to attract a proper doctor. Beth murmured a few quiet words and a glowing blue ball appeared over her shoulder, granting them enough light to see by.
They both stared into the murky darkness, waiting for the balls to return.
"I'm surprised you would do it. You never seemed too interested in magic. Distrustful of it, even," Jack said.
She shrugged. "I saw a need, and moved to fill it." She hesitated, and then asked, "Does it bother you? Given your condition, I mean."
"Did you want to confess to being the witch who did this?"
Beth's eyes were wide as she shook her head frantically in the negative. "Oh, gods, no. Never."
"Then no,” Jack mimicked her tone, “it doesn't bother me, given my condition.” He added under his breath, “Bothers me to think of you stuck in Ogden. Not that I ever expected you to leave.”
"Neither did I," Beth acknowledged, quietly.
They were saved from additional small talk by the return of the two balls. They rolled up into Beth’s hand, travelling slowly up her dress. Once they were settled, Beth ordered, “Report!”
The ear shrank back into its ball, and the eye slowly sank out of sight. The surfaces of the balls twitched on Beth's palm, and then they both rocked back and forth until the clay had split open into mouths, complete with lips, teeth and tongues. ((IMAGE 3))
The first ball began to speak, tone monotonous, enunciating each word carefully. "Quiet. A trickle of water."
The second added, "Burial chambers, none sealed. Dark figures in each, no movement. Spiral staircase down."
“Useful,” Jack acknowledged with a tilt of his head, “but not very detailed.”
“Only with me to direct them, before you ask,” Beth said, unable to keep from smiling. “And I’ve been working on it. Normally I only use them when I’m too exhausted to stay up with a patient, and there’s no one available to do it. They work adequately as a sort of alarm system.”
“Fair enough,” Jack drew his sword and nodded to the hallway. “Stay behind me; try to let me be of some use on this little adventure you’ve dragged me.”
Beth inclined her head, “After you.”
They quickly settled into the same pattern for each floor of the tower - the balls would scout first for signs of trouble, then they searched the rooms quickly, trying to find anything that would explain the reanimation of the dead.
Jack found a trap on the level just about ground, a simple pressure plate that triggered several spears thrusting out of the wall. Their points scraped against the opposite wall before the weapons retracted out of sight.
“I guess these people were serious about being left alone to enjoy their afterlives,” Beth remarked as Jack put a finger through a hole in his hat.
“We’ll have to go more slowly,” Jack grunted, putting the hat back on his head. “Where there’s one trap, there tends to be more.” Sure enough, most of the chambers on that floor contained a pressure plate somewhere in the entry way. Nearly half had speared someone – Jack tended to believe they were the bodies of the reanimated occupants, but Beth suggested they might be grave robbers who had deserved what they’d gotten. The stubborn jutting out of her chin told Jack that she didn’t really believe they deserved any such thing, but was determined to play it cool.
Finally they reached the lowest level of the tower. It was subterranean, and a large, open space. At first, they saw only stalagmites rising from the cave floor, the debris from rock that had fallen off the ceiling. But then Jack saw it. "There," he flicked a finger towards a rock pillar that rose near the centre of the chamber. It was a little different from the rest, the head bigger than the base, the stem grooved slightly. Perhaps many years ago, the pillar had been decorative, but time had not been kind to it. ((IMAGE 2))
Beth stepped from the staircase, heading towards the centre of the room, with Jack right beside her. Her eyes never left the large red crystal seated atop it. "Is it...?”
"A blood crystal,” Jack barely breathed the words.
"How is it supposed to work?” Beth asked. As they’d descended through the Tower, Jack had told her a little about the curse, the coven he’d been hired to kill when they’d been found sacrificing humans to reinforce their power. She knew one of them had cast the spell, but Jack had been pretty vague about.
Jack shook his head as though coming out of a trance. "Magic," he shrugged. "But the application of blood should-"
A cackle interrupted Jack’s explanation, growing louder and then tapering off as it echoed back at them from the walls of the cavern.
“Uh, hello?” Beth said, ducking down when Jack whipped around to look at her.
“Stay low, stay quiet,” Jack hissed.
“Too late now, Jack, my boy,” the witch moved from the shadows, rubbing her hands together. Her fingers were tipped with long, curling claws; her hair was a wild grey cloud around her head. She wore mismatched clothing: all brilliant, clashing colours that emphasized the sickly pallor of her skin.
“Kamila,” Jack said¸ moving to put himself between the witch and Beth.
“That’s far enough,” Kamila said. Jack stopped moving, aware now that she was not the only thing the shadows had contained.
“I though you killed the witch that cursed you?” Beth hissed.
“So did I,” Jack said.
“I’m harder to kill than that,” Kamila crowed. “Harder than that.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jack asked.
“Finishing what I started when I cursed you,” Kamila moved towards him, her gait an odd shuffle-hop. “You ruined everything! You were supposed to be reviled, reduced to hiding, hunted because you finally looked like the monster you are.” Kamila said, pointing a finger at him. "You silver-tongued bastard, you twisted the truth, you made them love you. They honoured you for your 'sacrifice!' What about MY sacrifice?"
“Your sacrifices are why I had to put an end to your coven,” Jack grunted.
Kamila snarled at him, “You should have done a better job.” She snapped her fingers and from the shadows around the edges of the room, undead began to stumble forwards. Beth’s stomach turned as she saw the long-dead corpses moving slowly around the debris on the ground, their eyes filled with an unnatural hatred for the living.
“Beth, run, get out of here!” Jack shouted, pulling a pair of daggers from the sheaths at his back and throwing them at the witch.
Kamila waved a hand, murmuring a few arcane words and redirected the weapons into the wall.
Beth watched, paralyzed by fear as Jack charged at witch, his sword raised. The old woman would have been feeble if not for the strength she drew from her magic. Jack was quick on his feet, dodging the bolts of fire and ice that the witch threw as he tried to close enough to strike her. The blasts broke the rock formations, sending chunks flying through the room. A small piece flew across Beth’s cheek, the pain drawing her out of her trance.
She touched her fingers to her cheek, to soothe the pain, and came away with blood on them.
Surrounded by corpses shuffling steadily closer, Beth looked around frantically for an escape route.
“The crystal, destroy it!” Jack huffed as he somersaulted under a blast of fire and slashed at the witch’s body. She screamed, but retaliated with a shot that struck him in the chest, sending him back into a stalagmite.
Beth darted to the crystal, ducking low to use the rocks as cover should the witch’s attention shift from Jack. The undead loomed ever closer, and Beth flinched away from their outstretched hands, grabbing the crystal as she ducked and weaved away from them.
Holding the crystal up, Beth shouted at Kamila, who was grinning while she watched Jack lurch to his feet, “Leave us alone!”
“Put the crystal down, neophyte. I could teach you so much, show you so much. Be smart now, girl, there’s a whole world beyond-“
Beth slashed her left palm with one of her knives, squeezing so her blood would flow. Staring defiantly at Kamila, she rubbed her hand over the crystal, coating it in blood. The crystal absorbed it all, the colour getting murky where blood had soaked through.
Kamila screamed obscenities as the undead all fell as one. Jack seized, rising up on his toes as his body shook before collapsing to the ground.
Beth felt the lightning slam into her, jolting her off of her feet. She was barely conscious enough to raise the crystal, slamming it into the ground before Kamila could get the angle for another bolt. Beth heard rather than saw the witch’s agony. She closed her eyes, willing her body to move, gritting her teeth when the witch went silent.
It took nearly four minutes for Beth to gather herself enough to drag her body towards Jack’s lifeless body. She focused on a patch of dust on his trousers as she slowly hauled herself towards him, battling nausea.
Finally, she lay on the ground beside him, reaching over to remove his hat. She gasped, and then grimaced in pain.
Jack’s face was starting to reform, muscles and tendons and skin blooming across his skull. Beth took his hand in hers, letting her head rest on the ground while she waited for him….
The End.
[/sblock]
SteelDraco
First Post
Shards out of Bond
Gah, not going to get it done - this week has been busier than I expected. Sorry. Here's what I have.
Shards out of Bond
[sblock]
"Got in something strange. Need your help. Bring Vi. -Gavin" The note was tiny, in a cramped, blocky hand. The clockwork messenger chirped quizzically at me as it perched on the windowsill, its birdlike metal head cocked the side as it awaited a response. I waved it away, and the tiny thing blinked its crystalline eyes, then spread brass wings and flew away into the morning fog. Work from Gavin was usually interesting - he was a curio dealer out by Knightsgate, a section of the city that saw a great deal of traffic from the caravans and skybarges. Usually a pain, too, come to think of it. Gavin didn't call me for easy stuff - he'd been in the Mechanist's Corps with me, during the war, and could handle himself well. Common thugs don't usually bother a dwarf who can lift a fifty-pound cannonball in each hand, and Gavin had done that for years.
I considered the message as I got ready - quick wash, trim of my goatee, change of clothes, weapons check. If he wanted Viona along, that meant magic. She was a friend of mine who helped me out when jobs got strange in a magic way, which I knew just enough about to know I didn't know anything useful. I'd have to hurry if I was going to catch her before classes started. I locked the door and turned on the wards as I left home, not sure how long this job would take and when I'd be back.
The streets of Sansimel were bustling with activity, even this early in the morning. I live in a tradesman's district, and shipments were arriving everywhere. The clatter of carts dominated the streets, some with horses and some chugging along powered by elemental boilers. I dodged between them, pulling my regimental cloak tight against the chill. I took all the back ways, hurrying as best I could - I'd never convince her to come with me if I didn't get to her before first bell. I wasn't worried about running down alleys and over fences. Most people around here knew me by sight, and those that didn't saw my blue-and-silver airman's cloak and the rapier and revolver at my side, and knew to find easier prey.
The dark stone bulk of St. Iriadne's Academy was just down the street now - I was going to make it. I slowed to a walk as I approached the hulking magical university, catching my breath so I didn't look like I just ran across a quarter of the city to see Vi. That wouldn't do at all. I nodded to a couple of students playing catch with a ball of wisplight as I went inside and up to her chambers, and knocked quietly.
"Vi? Are you there? It's Cole." I waited a moment for a response, heard someone moving around inside. I straightened up and smoothed my cloak before she saw me.
"Mr. Lyonson. I don't suppose there's any chance that you'll go away?" She opened the door, her expression somewhere between frustrated and amused. She was ready for teaching - a practical, ladylike dress, brown-and-green hair pulled back in a bun, with a few wisps of hair curling on her forehead. Her features were beautiful, no other word for it - high cheekbones, large, green eyes, and a slight point to her ears that revealed her part-elven ancestry.
I smiled politely and bowed. "No, ma'am. None at all. You'll have to call security." She gestured me in, and I stepped past her into her apartment. It was pretty sizable, and far too tidy for my tastes. Most of it was decorated in books - old tomes of magical theory and history covered most of the walls. Two cats stared at me inscrutably from atop bookshelves. One of them - Tyraniel - meowed at me, his disdain clear.
She smiled. "He likes you, you know. What's going on?"
"Gavin. He's got a job, and wanted you involved. I'm going over there to find out details. Interested?"
She considered for a moment. "Yes, I believe so. Lecturing on proper conjuration safety protocols sounded rather dull, and none of them ever listen until they catch fire the first time, no matter what I say. I'll send a message to my assistant." She wrote a quick note, and handed it to one of the cats, who loped off down the corridor.
"That was easier than I expected," I said as I offered her my arm. I figured I'd have to bribe her to get her to abandon her duties.
"That cloak makes your eyes sparkle in quite a handsome manner. It may have factored into my decision." I smiled to myself as we walked, arm in arm, to see Gavin. "And you will be paying me fifty percent."
Gavin's shop is a large, rambling place - he'd added on a workshop and forge in back years ago, and taken over one of the neighboring shops and combined the buildings. A bell rang as we entered, and a grunt from across the shop suggested that Gavin was on his way. The place was full of all manner of objects, strewn haphazardly on shelves covered to bursting. Most of it was artistic - Taldori carved walking staves, carpets from the Venish Wastes, even a stuffed dragon's head. I knew some of it was enchanted, though - Gavin was one of Knightsgate's largest dealers in magical objects.
"Cole, my boy!" Gavin stumped around a cage full of clockwork messenger birds and grinned at me. He was thick-set even for a dwarf, his arms corded with muscle, his belly starting to go soft in his age. Streaks of grey shot through his dark beard. "C'mere!" He pulled me into a tight hug, lifting my feet clear of the ground for a moment. "Good to see you again. It's been too long." He gave Vi a brief smile and nod. "Let's talk privately."
We followed Gavin into a back room. It was a well-appointed meeting room, used mostly for high-gold deals with important clients. On the table were a pair of lumpy white stones, each a little bigger than a fist. "Got these in last night as part of a lot I bought from a tomb raider coming in from the Gulbarak Jungle. Not sure what to make of them, but they've got me worried. Think they might be bound souls, and I can't be caught dealing with that. Guard's already watching me close enough after those bloody hobbits used one of my bags of holding in that bank heist last month. They'd auction my shop and send me up the river for sure for this. Can you help me, boy?"
I looked at the stones, then over at Vi. "I think we can help you, yes." Viona and Gavin didn't get along well - professional disagreement from years ago, something about a golem she'd bought from him going berserk at a faculty party. I tried to stay well out of it, but Gavin knew I worked with her when magic was involved, and he trusted me. Wasn't hard to understand why he was worried - dealing with soulbound objects was bad business. Binding elementals and spirits was one thing, but binding a sentient creature's soul was a horrible crime, against the laws of both men and the gods. Even dealing with the things would get you locked away for a long time. "You should be more careful, old man. What was so important that you bought the lot without examining everything?"
He coughed a bit, embarrassed. "Caught that, did you? Suppose that's fair. This was in there, and don't think the fool knew what he had." He unlocked a small cabinet, and handed me a large chunk of stone, crystals of various colors poking out of it. ((PICTURE #2))
I whistled, and I heard Viona gasp in surprise. I turned the thing over in my hands. "Is this... what I think it is?"
"A shard the size of your arm? Yeah, boy, that's just what it is. See why I didn't look too close at the rest of his stuff?"
Vi took the stone from me and peered closely at it. "I would estimate this is worth at least... twelve thousand gold crowns? It seems quite pure."
"That it is, young lady. That it is." Gavin took the shard carefully from her, locking it back up. "Fool took four hundred for that, the bound souls, and a pile of worthless Taldori burial decoration. And I think there's more where that came from. Somebody's been moving shards into the market from out Gulbarak way, and I think this might be a clue as to who. I'd like to get in on that. Good money to be made from raw materials." He peered at both of us, his weathered face grim. "I'd pay well, for information like that. Already got me a map from the idiot who sold me this lot. I can't be going off into the wilds by myself any more. You two in?"
I nodded immediately. "I'm in. I'll get ready." Gavin had helped me through a lot, back in the war. He'd been the mechanic for my skimmer, along with the rest of the unit's devices. He'd personally led a rescue mission to save me, after a pair of blight-drakes brought me down during a scouting mission.
I turned to go, and Gavin laughed. "Not so fast there, boy - the bound souls, remember? They talk, but I don't speak whatever language they do. Hoping one of you might understand 'em."
"Good point, old man. Let's take a look." I've had clients from all over, and been to a good chunk of the known world, and I speak several languages. Vi knew a half-dozen more than I did, at least, and her magic could translate anything she didn't already know.
Viona picked up one of the stones, and immediately a grey mouth formed on its side. It hissed, and spoke in a guttural language. I smiled a bit.
Gavin looked at us. "Anything?"
It said "Who dares disturb mighty Jokjok?" It's speaking Gulbari goblin.
Vi put the stone next to the other one. A mouth formed on the second stone, and it said "Jokjok? You there? It so dark. Where we now? Where go talky man?" The voice was higher, less inclined to shouting, and clearly female.
"Talky man gone, Zekki! Someone here to put me into MIGHTY GOLEM BODY! Jokjok be bigger and stronger and smashy! Jokjok not like being rock, but soon be HUGEST AND BESTEST!" The mouth on the other stone visibly cowered as Jokjok shouted. ((PICTURE #3)) "That right, strange person? Jokjok go from goblin to rock to GOLEM?"
Vi looked at me. I shrugged. "Er. No, we're not here to turn you into a golem. We're here to turn you back into goblins," she said. After a moment's consideration, she continued. "And I would never build a golem with a goblin soul inside. It would be far too risky. Elementals are far more tr-"
"Risky that I be BESTEST GOLEM EVER and make all others look bad?"
"Jokjok, shut up! I not want to be a rock or a golem! Nice lady want to make us goblin again! We sorry we stole shiny rock!"
Vi made a soothing noise. "Be calm, I'll take you back to the university and we should be able to get you back to normal by tomorrow. All will be well." She turned to Gavin and me, and switched back to tradetongue. "Cole, you get all of that?" I nodded. "Good. Fill Gavin in and get ready. They should be back in goblin form by the morning. We depart then?"
She scooped up the two stones and swept out of the room, looking grim. Gavin shot me a look. "She gonna have any problems walking around with those things?"
I shook my head. "She's senior enough at the university that she can handle it. They'll help her out. Bound souls are a bit of a touchy subject for her, I think. She'll figure it out." I put an arm around Gavin's shoulder. "Come on, old man. You get to come make sure my skimmer still works."
It did, and the five of us set out the next morning. Zekki and Jokjok were back in their old shapes - thin, floppy-eared goblins about three feet tall. They seemed overwhelmed by the city - it was huge and loud and far from their jungle home. Jokjok was fearless as we boarded my skimmer, asking constant questions about how it worked and such. I showed him the elemental boiler that generated power and lift, the propellers that let it move, everything. He was a pretty quick learner, and it had been a while since I had a chance to show the old girl off. I'd bought her from the military after the war, when they were decommissioning everything and tearing it all apart for parts for the reconstruction effort. I'd made a good offer for it, from my grandfather's nest egg - it didn't seem right to let them tear apart the machine that had saved my life so many times and turn her into a field hand.
Everyone was ready for anything - the Gulbarak Jungle was a wild place. I had put on my grandfather's old armor under my cloak, mithril chain so fine it just felt like a thick shirt. The enchantments on it were enough to protect me from most weapons, even gunfire. My trusty blade and revolver were in the skimmer, too. Vi was wearing her traveling robes, dark green and tight against her curvy body. Gavin lugged a bag full of weapons and ammunition, his favorite scoped rifle slung over a shoulder. He clanked as he walked, decked out in a corpsman's metal-and-leather uniform again, let out here and there to allow for the ravages of age. Even Zekki and Jokjok clutched short blades I recognized from Gavin's shop.
We flew south like that for several days, stopping for breaks here and there to let the elemental spirit rest. The skimmer was a tight fit, and didn't offer a lot of protection from the wind - it had been designed as a scout craft, and everyone but me spent most of the trip clutching at wing supports. They were all very relieved when the dark shape of the Gulbarak Jungle appeared on the horizon. We sped over the treetops for a few hours before Jokjok clutched at my arm.
"Nice lady say land there! We close!" She pointed toward a small clearing, probably big enough for a safe landing. I nodded.
It wasn't my best landing, but we all got out of the skimmer without much trouble. After walking around slowly for a few minutes to get used to the ground again, Zekki got us oriented.
"Tribe that way maybe two hours walk. That where bad dead-man live who turn us into rocks. We stole shiny shard from him - he make tribe dig for shiny shards and then sell to bad men who come down river. Me and Jokjok hiding in cave when dead-man curse turn us into rocks. Talky man find us in cave before dead-man find us. Dead-man have big dead guards in armor."
Vi looked at me. "From the description, this dead man could be one of the lost lich-lords from the war. They never did find all of them. I had heard rumors about some of them running to Gulbarak after the army shattered their fortresses. Could be bad."
Gavin snorted. "Haven't killed any undead in years. Bring 'em on, I say. What you say, boy? Remember how it's done?"
I grimaced. "Still have the scars."
We made our way through the jungle as quietly as we could. I went ahead with Zekki - she was quieter than Jokjok by far, and seemed to know woodcraft better. Jokjok came and went, passing messages back and forth to Vi and Gavin. I didn't want Gavin anywhere near me when I was trying to be quiet, and he was miserable enough in the hot jungle in the jungle that Jokjok started referring to him as "angry fur man". I'd have to remember that.
Eventually, we came to a clearing dominated by several conical stone constructions. Here and there, windows dotted the structures, and a wooden bridge connected the two largest. Zekki pointed to one from our wet, fern-covered hiding spot at the edge of the clearing. ((PICTURE #1) "Dead man at top of that one. He in big room full of money he took from our tribe." As we watched, several goblins skittered across the bridge and into the stone edifice, followed by a large figure, four-armed and taller than a man, covered in dark metal and carrying a quartet of axes. I sighed. A Venkatha dreadguard. No doubt about it, there was a lich in there. I hadn't seen one of those things since the worst days of the war.
Zekki tugged at my arm. "Uh. Nice Cole man? Where Jokjok going?" Zekki pointed, and I sighed in frustration as I watched the tiny figure of Jokjok move obviously from clump of grass to bush across the clearing. If I knew him at all, he was humming as he went.
"To get himself killed, it looks like." Jokjok had the subtlety of a dwarven cannon brigade. "Go with him, try and keep him safe. We'll find a way in." Zekki nodded and started across the clearing, doing a much better job of being inconspicuous than her mate.
We'd managed to put together some kind of a plan, huddled among the cloying vegetation of the jungle. Vi had brought along a couple of scrolls she thought might be helpful, and Gavin thought he could take out one of the dreadguards quietly. We waited there, on the edge of the jungle, for the next chance. It looked like the goblins came back every couple of hours, escorted by one of three dreadguards. One of the dreadguards was always at the mine about a half mile away; the other two stayed at the camp and guarded the lich, occasionally taking a patrol of the camp area. We'd have to hit fast and quiet - we couldn't deal with three of those things and a lich, all at the same time. We were pretty good, but not that good.
As the patrolling dreadguard stepped out, we got ready to strike. Gavin did something to his rifle, and suddenly sound all around us ceased - the incessant hum of birds and bugs throughout the jungle cut out. The dwarf took careful aim at the dreadguard's armored head, and the muzzle flashed silently. The thing's helm splintered, shattered by a silent bullet, and the thing dropped lifelessly to the ground with a crackle of black energy as sound returned around us.
"Move!" I hissed.
[/sblock]
Gah, not going to get it done - this week has been busier than I expected. Sorry. Here's what I have.
Shards out of Bond
[sblock]
"Got in something strange. Need your help. Bring Vi. -Gavin" The note was tiny, in a cramped, blocky hand. The clockwork messenger chirped quizzically at me as it perched on the windowsill, its birdlike metal head cocked the side as it awaited a response. I waved it away, and the tiny thing blinked its crystalline eyes, then spread brass wings and flew away into the morning fog. Work from Gavin was usually interesting - he was a curio dealer out by Knightsgate, a section of the city that saw a great deal of traffic from the caravans and skybarges. Usually a pain, too, come to think of it. Gavin didn't call me for easy stuff - he'd been in the Mechanist's Corps with me, during the war, and could handle himself well. Common thugs don't usually bother a dwarf who can lift a fifty-pound cannonball in each hand, and Gavin had done that for years.
I considered the message as I got ready - quick wash, trim of my goatee, change of clothes, weapons check. If he wanted Viona along, that meant magic. She was a friend of mine who helped me out when jobs got strange in a magic way, which I knew just enough about to know I didn't know anything useful. I'd have to hurry if I was going to catch her before classes started. I locked the door and turned on the wards as I left home, not sure how long this job would take and when I'd be back.
The streets of Sansimel were bustling with activity, even this early in the morning. I live in a tradesman's district, and shipments were arriving everywhere. The clatter of carts dominated the streets, some with horses and some chugging along powered by elemental boilers. I dodged between them, pulling my regimental cloak tight against the chill. I took all the back ways, hurrying as best I could - I'd never convince her to come with me if I didn't get to her before first bell. I wasn't worried about running down alleys and over fences. Most people around here knew me by sight, and those that didn't saw my blue-and-silver airman's cloak and the rapier and revolver at my side, and knew to find easier prey.
The dark stone bulk of St. Iriadne's Academy was just down the street now - I was going to make it. I slowed to a walk as I approached the hulking magical university, catching my breath so I didn't look like I just ran across a quarter of the city to see Vi. That wouldn't do at all. I nodded to a couple of students playing catch with a ball of wisplight as I went inside and up to her chambers, and knocked quietly.
"Vi? Are you there? It's Cole." I waited a moment for a response, heard someone moving around inside. I straightened up and smoothed my cloak before she saw me.
"Mr. Lyonson. I don't suppose there's any chance that you'll go away?" She opened the door, her expression somewhere between frustrated and amused. She was ready for teaching - a practical, ladylike dress, brown-and-green hair pulled back in a bun, with a few wisps of hair curling on her forehead. Her features were beautiful, no other word for it - high cheekbones, large, green eyes, and a slight point to her ears that revealed her part-elven ancestry.
I smiled politely and bowed. "No, ma'am. None at all. You'll have to call security." She gestured me in, and I stepped past her into her apartment. It was pretty sizable, and far too tidy for my tastes. Most of it was decorated in books - old tomes of magical theory and history covered most of the walls. Two cats stared at me inscrutably from atop bookshelves. One of them - Tyraniel - meowed at me, his disdain clear.
She smiled. "He likes you, you know. What's going on?"
"Gavin. He's got a job, and wanted you involved. I'm going over there to find out details. Interested?"
She considered for a moment. "Yes, I believe so. Lecturing on proper conjuration safety protocols sounded rather dull, and none of them ever listen until they catch fire the first time, no matter what I say. I'll send a message to my assistant." She wrote a quick note, and handed it to one of the cats, who loped off down the corridor.
"That was easier than I expected," I said as I offered her my arm. I figured I'd have to bribe her to get her to abandon her duties.
"That cloak makes your eyes sparkle in quite a handsome manner. It may have factored into my decision." I smiled to myself as we walked, arm in arm, to see Gavin. "And you will be paying me fifty percent."
*****
Gavin's shop is a large, rambling place - he'd added on a workshop and forge in back years ago, and taken over one of the neighboring shops and combined the buildings. A bell rang as we entered, and a grunt from across the shop suggested that Gavin was on his way. The place was full of all manner of objects, strewn haphazardly on shelves covered to bursting. Most of it was artistic - Taldori carved walking staves, carpets from the Venish Wastes, even a stuffed dragon's head. I knew some of it was enchanted, though - Gavin was one of Knightsgate's largest dealers in magical objects.
"Cole, my boy!" Gavin stumped around a cage full of clockwork messenger birds and grinned at me. He was thick-set even for a dwarf, his arms corded with muscle, his belly starting to go soft in his age. Streaks of grey shot through his dark beard. "C'mere!" He pulled me into a tight hug, lifting my feet clear of the ground for a moment. "Good to see you again. It's been too long." He gave Vi a brief smile and nod. "Let's talk privately."
We followed Gavin into a back room. It was a well-appointed meeting room, used mostly for high-gold deals with important clients. On the table were a pair of lumpy white stones, each a little bigger than a fist. "Got these in last night as part of a lot I bought from a tomb raider coming in from the Gulbarak Jungle. Not sure what to make of them, but they've got me worried. Think they might be bound souls, and I can't be caught dealing with that. Guard's already watching me close enough after those bloody hobbits used one of my bags of holding in that bank heist last month. They'd auction my shop and send me up the river for sure for this. Can you help me, boy?"
I looked at the stones, then over at Vi. "I think we can help you, yes." Viona and Gavin didn't get along well - professional disagreement from years ago, something about a golem she'd bought from him going berserk at a faculty party. I tried to stay well out of it, but Gavin knew I worked with her when magic was involved, and he trusted me. Wasn't hard to understand why he was worried - dealing with soulbound objects was bad business. Binding elementals and spirits was one thing, but binding a sentient creature's soul was a horrible crime, against the laws of both men and the gods. Even dealing with the things would get you locked away for a long time. "You should be more careful, old man. What was so important that you bought the lot without examining everything?"
He coughed a bit, embarrassed. "Caught that, did you? Suppose that's fair. This was in there, and don't think the fool knew what he had." He unlocked a small cabinet, and handed me a large chunk of stone, crystals of various colors poking out of it. ((PICTURE #2))
I whistled, and I heard Viona gasp in surprise. I turned the thing over in my hands. "Is this... what I think it is?"
"A shard the size of your arm? Yeah, boy, that's just what it is. See why I didn't look too close at the rest of his stuff?"
Vi took the stone from me and peered closely at it. "I would estimate this is worth at least... twelve thousand gold crowns? It seems quite pure."
"That it is, young lady. That it is." Gavin took the shard carefully from her, locking it back up. "Fool took four hundred for that, the bound souls, and a pile of worthless Taldori burial decoration. And I think there's more where that came from. Somebody's been moving shards into the market from out Gulbarak way, and I think this might be a clue as to who. I'd like to get in on that. Good money to be made from raw materials." He peered at both of us, his weathered face grim. "I'd pay well, for information like that. Already got me a map from the idiot who sold me this lot. I can't be going off into the wilds by myself any more. You two in?"
I nodded immediately. "I'm in. I'll get ready." Gavin had helped me through a lot, back in the war. He'd been the mechanic for my skimmer, along with the rest of the unit's devices. He'd personally led a rescue mission to save me, after a pair of blight-drakes brought me down during a scouting mission.
I turned to go, and Gavin laughed. "Not so fast there, boy - the bound souls, remember? They talk, but I don't speak whatever language they do. Hoping one of you might understand 'em."
"Good point, old man. Let's take a look." I've had clients from all over, and been to a good chunk of the known world, and I speak several languages. Vi knew a half-dozen more than I did, at least, and her magic could translate anything she didn't already know.
Viona picked up one of the stones, and immediately a grey mouth formed on its side. It hissed, and spoke in a guttural language. I smiled a bit.
Gavin looked at us. "Anything?"
It said "Who dares disturb mighty Jokjok?" It's speaking Gulbari goblin.
Vi put the stone next to the other one. A mouth formed on the second stone, and it said "Jokjok? You there? It so dark. Where we now? Where go talky man?" The voice was higher, less inclined to shouting, and clearly female.
"Talky man gone, Zekki! Someone here to put me into MIGHTY GOLEM BODY! Jokjok be bigger and stronger and smashy! Jokjok not like being rock, but soon be HUGEST AND BESTEST!" The mouth on the other stone visibly cowered as Jokjok shouted. ((PICTURE #3)) "That right, strange person? Jokjok go from goblin to rock to GOLEM?"
Vi looked at me. I shrugged. "Er. No, we're not here to turn you into a golem. We're here to turn you back into goblins," she said. After a moment's consideration, she continued. "And I would never build a golem with a goblin soul inside. It would be far too risky. Elementals are far more tr-"
"Risky that I be BESTEST GOLEM EVER and make all others look bad?"
"Jokjok, shut up! I not want to be a rock or a golem! Nice lady want to make us goblin again! We sorry we stole shiny rock!"
Vi made a soothing noise. "Be calm, I'll take you back to the university and we should be able to get you back to normal by tomorrow. All will be well." She turned to Gavin and me, and switched back to tradetongue. "Cole, you get all of that?" I nodded. "Good. Fill Gavin in and get ready. They should be back in goblin form by the morning. We depart then?"
She scooped up the two stones and swept out of the room, looking grim. Gavin shot me a look. "She gonna have any problems walking around with those things?"
I shook my head. "She's senior enough at the university that she can handle it. They'll help her out. Bound souls are a bit of a touchy subject for her, I think. She'll figure it out." I put an arm around Gavin's shoulder. "Come on, old man. You get to come make sure my skimmer still works."
*****
It did, and the five of us set out the next morning. Zekki and Jokjok were back in their old shapes - thin, floppy-eared goblins about three feet tall. They seemed overwhelmed by the city - it was huge and loud and far from their jungle home. Jokjok was fearless as we boarded my skimmer, asking constant questions about how it worked and such. I showed him the elemental boiler that generated power and lift, the propellers that let it move, everything. He was a pretty quick learner, and it had been a while since I had a chance to show the old girl off. I'd bought her from the military after the war, when they were decommissioning everything and tearing it all apart for parts for the reconstruction effort. I'd made a good offer for it, from my grandfather's nest egg - it didn't seem right to let them tear apart the machine that had saved my life so many times and turn her into a field hand.
Everyone was ready for anything - the Gulbarak Jungle was a wild place. I had put on my grandfather's old armor under my cloak, mithril chain so fine it just felt like a thick shirt. The enchantments on it were enough to protect me from most weapons, even gunfire. My trusty blade and revolver were in the skimmer, too. Vi was wearing her traveling robes, dark green and tight against her curvy body. Gavin lugged a bag full of weapons and ammunition, his favorite scoped rifle slung over a shoulder. He clanked as he walked, decked out in a corpsman's metal-and-leather uniform again, let out here and there to allow for the ravages of age. Even Zekki and Jokjok clutched short blades I recognized from Gavin's shop.
We flew south like that for several days, stopping for breaks here and there to let the elemental spirit rest. The skimmer was a tight fit, and didn't offer a lot of protection from the wind - it had been designed as a scout craft, and everyone but me spent most of the trip clutching at wing supports. They were all very relieved when the dark shape of the Gulbarak Jungle appeared on the horizon. We sped over the treetops for a few hours before Jokjok clutched at my arm.
"Nice lady say land there! We close!" She pointed toward a small clearing, probably big enough for a safe landing. I nodded.
*****
It wasn't my best landing, but we all got out of the skimmer without much trouble. After walking around slowly for a few minutes to get used to the ground again, Zekki got us oriented.
"Tribe that way maybe two hours walk. That where bad dead-man live who turn us into rocks. We stole shiny shard from him - he make tribe dig for shiny shards and then sell to bad men who come down river. Me and Jokjok hiding in cave when dead-man curse turn us into rocks. Talky man find us in cave before dead-man find us. Dead-man have big dead guards in armor."
Vi looked at me. "From the description, this dead man could be one of the lost lich-lords from the war. They never did find all of them. I had heard rumors about some of them running to Gulbarak after the army shattered their fortresses. Could be bad."
Gavin snorted. "Haven't killed any undead in years. Bring 'em on, I say. What you say, boy? Remember how it's done?"
I grimaced. "Still have the scars."
We made our way through the jungle as quietly as we could. I went ahead with Zekki - she was quieter than Jokjok by far, and seemed to know woodcraft better. Jokjok came and went, passing messages back and forth to Vi and Gavin. I didn't want Gavin anywhere near me when I was trying to be quiet, and he was miserable enough in the hot jungle in the jungle that Jokjok started referring to him as "angry fur man". I'd have to remember that.
Eventually, we came to a clearing dominated by several conical stone constructions. Here and there, windows dotted the structures, and a wooden bridge connected the two largest. Zekki pointed to one from our wet, fern-covered hiding spot at the edge of the clearing. ((PICTURE #1) "Dead man at top of that one. He in big room full of money he took from our tribe." As we watched, several goblins skittered across the bridge and into the stone edifice, followed by a large figure, four-armed and taller than a man, covered in dark metal and carrying a quartet of axes. I sighed. A Venkatha dreadguard. No doubt about it, there was a lich in there. I hadn't seen one of those things since the worst days of the war.
Zekki tugged at my arm. "Uh. Nice Cole man? Where Jokjok going?" Zekki pointed, and I sighed in frustration as I watched the tiny figure of Jokjok move obviously from clump of grass to bush across the clearing. If I knew him at all, he was humming as he went.
"To get himself killed, it looks like." Jokjok had the subtlety of a dwarven cannon brigade. "Go with him, try and keep him safe. We'll find a way in." Zekki nodded and started across the clearing, doing a much better job of being inconspicuous than her mate.
*****
We'd managed to put together some kind of a plan, huddled among the cloying vegetation of the jungle. Vi had brought along a couple of scrolls she thought might be helpful, and Gavin thought he could take out one of the dreadguards quietly. We waited there, on the edge of the jungle, for the next chance. It looked like the goblins came back every couple of hours, escorted by one of three dreadguards. One of the dreadguards was always at the mine about a half mile away; the other two stayed at the camp and guarded the lich, occasionally taking a patrol of the camp area. We'd have to hit fast and quiet - we couldn't deal with three of those things and a lich, all at the same time. We were pretty good, but not that good.
As the patrolling dreadguard stepped out, we got ready to strike. Gavin did something to his rifle, and suddenly sound all around us ceased - the incessant hum of birds and bugs throughout the jungle cut out. The dwarf took careful aim at the dreadguard's armored head, and the muzzle flashed silently. The thing's helm splintered, shattered by a silent bullet, and the thing dropped lifelessly to the ground with a crackle of black energy as sound returned around us.
"Move!" I hissed.
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Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
Ditto.
maxfieldjadenfox
First Post
Rodrigo - the knids are alright!
I found the second set of pictures more difficult than the first I think...though again that leaves more room for higher creativity points.
By the way, my sideline judgements are in, if anyone likes to read them. On Page 3 of this thread as always.
Great stories guys and girls!!
er..
Despite you sneaking past me!!
By the way, my sideline judgements are in, if anyone likes to read them. On Page 3 of this thread as always.
Great stories guys and girls!!
er..
Despite you sneaking past me!!
Sorry for dropping an xp thumbs up on a story post...that is probably bad form, at least until the judges post their verdicts. I was trying to add my support for those who post what they have in the end instead of dropping out, but should have done so in a separate post as others did.
In any case, my bad, sorry about that, please forgive my infarction (and I watch Scrubs far too much).
In any case, my bad, sorry about that, please forgive my infarction (and I watch Scrubs far too much).
