Tag Archives: amwriting

Wanted Adventurers – A Small Measure of Destiny

Posted on by under Wanted Adventurers

The Measure of Mettle was a small, unassuming shop among its towering neighbor’s in Ankheim’s shopping district, which had resumed its late afternoon business after the excitement had subsided. No shop door was closed for particularly long with the constant flow of traffic, save for Mettle’s.

“I like the look of that place,” Aranza said.

Temperance started to suggest one of the other armorers nearby, but Aranza had already reached for the small, plain handle on the similarly small, plain door. It opened without her touching it, and both Aranza and Temperance hesitated.

“Perhaps an enchanted door to seem more welcoming?” Temperance suggested.

The ceiling seemed impossibly high compared to the unassuming exterior of The Measure of Mettle, and grand chandeliers made of patchworks of material–some carefully shaped ironwork, some meticulously carved stone, and some made from bones of indeterminate origin–bobbed lazily at various heights, held not aloft by chains nor rope but instead anchored to the floor.

“Looking for anything in particular?” rumbled a voice from the opposite side of the shop. A half-giant stood behind the counter, her attention fixed on a set of plate armor as she hammered it into shape though her tools made no sound.

“Hail and well met, shopkeep,” Temperance said, taking the lead. “We’ve come to Ankheim on official Guild matters and find ourselves in need of new armor for my traveling companion.”

The half-giant shopkeeper looked up over half-moon glasses, her left eye a pool of silver and her right one white from edge to edge with a long, angry red scar crossing it from her forehead down to her jaw.

“Guild doesn’t make Ankheim its business much these days,” the shopkeeper said. She pointed at Aranza. “You the companion in need of armor?”

Aranza nodded. “Went for a bit of a swim and my kindly Paladin was insistent we make use of our funds to replace this old thing,” she said with a gesture to her waterlogged armor.

A hint of a smile tugged at the shopkeeper’s lips. “Plenty of other shops that could provide for you,” she replied. “Why pick this one?”

Temperance furrowed her brow and considered the question, which allowed Aranza time to step in and respond.

“It’s got character,” Aranza replied. “Something about it called to me, and when I reached for the door it just opened.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “Good enough for me,” she said. “Let’s get to work on something for you.”

“Get to work?” Temperance said at last. “I’m afraid custom armor isn’t quite within our budget.”

The shopkeeper stepped set down the plate she was shaping and stepped over the counter. Up close, she was easily twice as tall as Temperance, even slightly hunched down to avoid the chandeliers.

“Every piece in this place is made for someone,” the shopkeeper replied. “And anyone who is someone who has business in my shop has armor waiting for them. It’s a small matter of doing Fate’s work, and as such for the sake of my own skin and sanity I do not charge additional coppers over the matter of what you called custom armor.”

“Aranza,” Aranza said, holding out her hand. “Aranza Twinblade of Tidalreach.”

“You’ll learn to not give your name so willingly to strangers, I think, in due time,” the shopkeeper said. Her expression softened. “Call me Faen. It’s not my true name, but it’ll do for the sake of this transaction. I do believe we’ve got something that will be just right for you.”

“Forgive my asking,” Temperance interjected, “but where are your wares? The ones fated to be sold to rightful owners, I believe you’d suggested.”

Faen raised an eyebrow. “Nothing here for you,” she said. “Not yet, anyway. As for you, Aranza, I’ll ask you to hold on tightly.”

Faen picked up Aranza as if she were little more than a piece of parchment and put her in a small pouch slung over her back.

“There’s a tear or two I’ve been meaning to mend, so if you’re not careful you’ll fall out,” Faen explained. “Don’t want you to hit the floor and make a mess now, do we?”

The floor wasn’t too terribly far down, or it wasn’t until Faen began to climb the length of rope tethering a crystalline chandelier to the floor. She moved swiftly, hand over hand, and reached the brightly lit top before Aranza could finish cursing.

“You roguish types prefer your armor to remain a little on the squishier side these days, yes?” Faen asked in a way that sounded more like a statement.

Aranza blinked a few times. She was standing on a solid floor, or something solid at least, but when she looked down she saw the top of the chandelier.

“Don’t think about it too hard or you’ll break the spells and fall,” Faen said absentmindedly, her focus on the many armor-outfitted dummies in front of her.

“Ah, here we are,” Faen said, retrieving a forest green tunic from one of the dummies. She handed it to Aranza, and then turned away.

“Let me know once you’ve got it on,” Faen said. “I’m sure I know what you’ll have to say about it.”

Faint, and from far below, words echoed up. “Do you require my aid?” Temperance shouted, though her voice was barely a whisper once it traveled the distance from the floor.

Faen chuckled. “Is this her normal demeanor?”

Aranza laughed in response. “That’s a safe I haven’t quite cracked yet, but I think there’s good in her deep down.”

“I like to hear that,” Faen said. “She doesn’t seem like a Guild sort. Take care of her and she’ll return the favor, I’m sure. Best way to do that with a Paladin is through honest, open, and honest communication.”

Aranza finished pulling the tunic top over her head before she responded. “You said honest twice, you know.”

“Did I?” Faen said. “How curious.”

“I’m ready,” Aranza said. “It fits…”

“Perfectly?” Faen said as she turned around. The tunic looked as though it had been made for Aranza, and only for Aranza.

“Check the pockets,” Faen said. “This bit’s my favorite part.”

Aranza did as she was told, and discovered her belongings were all where they ought to be.

“Don’t get used to it, though,” Faen said. “One time cantrip, used up once the wearer puts on the new armor for the first time. I never even learned that particular spell, so I can’t help you there.”

Aranza nodded. “What’s the damage?” she looked downwards again, and added, “Don’t suppose we could…” She pointed towards the floor.

“In a moment,” Faen said. She disappeared between two of the dummies. Aranza could hear her shuffling along, but couldn’t see her despite how tall the half-giant loomed.

“Thought as much,” Faen said, having reappeared behind Aranza. She held a rolled up piece of leather, held shut by a simple knotted piece of rope, between her fingers as if it was a handkerchief. Before Aranza could ask, however, Faen had plucked her from the floor and leapt from the place above the chandeliers.

Aranza screamed by reflex as air rushed upwards around them.

Faen landed with a delicate thud, only a step or two away from Temperance.

“Gods damn it, was that necessary?” Temperance snapped before regaining her composure.

“Yes,” Faen said, setting Aranza down.

Temperance looked Aranza over and nodded. “That suits you quite nicely,” she said. “Sturdy leather made to look inconspicuous and crafted to allow for silent movement.”

Faen nodded, smiling. “You know your stuff better than you let on,” she said. She held out the roll of leather. “This is for you. You’ll know, I think, when the time is right. Not yet, though. And as for you…Payment.”

“What do you mean ‘payment’?” Temperance demanded.

Faen held up a finger, and Aranza nodded in response.

“Temperance, I need to tell you something,” Aranza said. “I was the one who destroyed the dam.”

The two were suddenly outside, back on the street in front of a storefront-shaped gap between buildings.

“I’m sorry, you said you did what?” Temperance replied.

Follow the Ashes – Rivalry Reunion

Posted on by under Follow The Ashes

Cas blinked. “Family?”

Gavin, or rather the holo-Gavin, chuckled. “Not blood related, mind you. We both initially reported to Bertie, and he often mocked us for behaving like siblings. He wasn’t wrong, I’ll concede.”

“I wish I could remember, but details are still fuzzy,” Cas replied, a frown tugging at the edges of her lips.

Holo-Gavin shook his head. “Probably some of my best work,” he said. “We all had to play our roles, after all, and for your journey to get here to succeed you couldn’t remember anything. Perhaps I did too well on the memory block, though, but it seems you’ve worked past it. Mostly.”

Cas winced as memories flew through her thoughts like a highlight reel. Events zipped past too quickly to process, and yet the details were clear enough.

“This is a suicide mission, isn’t it?” Cas said.

Holo-Gavin rolled his eyes. “You certainly weren’t this dour when you figured out how to power the rings,” he said. “Until you found out the cost the world paid for customized utopia living spaces, anyway. There was big money in it.”

Cas began to pace, and Holo-Gavin mirrored her. She stopped occasionally, a hand raised as if she were on the cusp of saying something. Each time, she resumed pacing instead.

“I’m not really capable of feeling much anymore, but you are making my storage overheat from trying to track you,” holo-Gavin said. “Please stand still if you can. Maybe another drink?”

Cas shook her head. “I’ve got to stay sharp,” she said. “And you never answered me. I’m going to die for the sake of the Earth, aren’t I?”

Holo-Gavin shrugged. “How the hell would I know?” he asked. “I’m already dead. No hard feelings on that front, by the way. That was a contingency we had planned for, obviously. As for your fate? I’m not much for gambling, but if I had to place a wager I’d put my money on you making it out of this alive. Unless you fail, of course, in which case I’d like to point out again I’m not much for gambling.”

Cas shook her head. A display on the back wall of the room showcased real-time footage of the Earth as it burned like an ember of a neglected campfire.

“Any helpful hints?” Cas hazarded asking.

Holo-Gavin smiled. “You need to go back the way you came,” he said. “Cryptic. Just the way you like it.” His image faltered, gaps in his appearance visible for fractions of a second.

“Damn,” holo-Gavin said. “Guess our brief time together again is almost up.”

“Hold on!” Cas demanded, unsure if it would help. “Before you go, could you at least tell me…Did we ever really get along? Were we friends, or just colleagues who fought one another? What were we?”

Holo-Gavin smiled, his face one of bittersweet recollection. “We both fought with all we had to be the lead architect on the rings,” he replied. “With time and success and failure, it became apparent who was the superior choice. I was happy to work for you, and when we realized the cost? I knew you’d make the right call. I suppose, in a sense, you did become something of a sister to me.” The holo-Gavin faltered again, longer this time, and reformed into a choppier, more pixelated version of itself.

“Do me a favor, yeah?”

Cas forced a smile. “I’ll try.”

“If you succeed,” holo-Gavin said. “If you get out of this in one piece and ever get back to Terra, could you take my eye with you? Bury it somewhere nice so I can see the world again.”

Cas winced, the sting of imminent tears burning her eyes. “Yeah, you sentimental bastard,” she replied. “I could do that.”

Holo-Gavin laughed, the sound tinny until it faded as did the projection. The cybernetic eye went dark.

Cas took a slow, long sip from the bottle and appreciated it more this time. A single image appeared on the screen ahead of her. It depicted a castle, almost straight out of a movie, deep underwater. Coordinates flashed quickly, followed by a sharp pain behind Cas’ eyes.

“I guess I’ve got the answer to where I’m off to next,” Cas said. She retrieved Gavin’s cybernetic eye from the pedestal, replaced it in her pocket, and left the room to continue her journey backwards through time and achievement to right the wrongs her progress had caused.

Piece 21 – A Little Light Trespassing

Posted on by under A Puzzling New World

Sophia maintained a modest distance. Curian had slipped into the shadows and disappeared entirely, a feat that proved even more impressive given how greatly the snow magnified the sun’s light. Every so often there would be a quick flash of silver–the signal they’d agreed upon–followed by nothing.

Sophia paced, rubbing her hands together for warmth. The gloves she’d brought for the journey were doing well enough, but the Rhimeghast Mountains were known for their supernaturally brutal chill, and she was learning that the stories were far from exaggerated.

“Where has she gotten to now?” Sophia muttered to herself.

The light of day gradually began to fade, and Sophia’s pacing had worn a small valley in the snow. “Gods damn it, where is she? She better not have gotten spotted.”

“Is that concern I heard?”

Sophia fell backwards into the snow, looking around wildly. Curian stood over her, smirking as she offered a hand. Sophia accepted, begrudgingly, and then pulled Curian into the snow.

“That was a rotten trick, you know,” Sophia said as she stood up.

Curian had leapt to her feet and dusted herself off, smiling and clearly pleased with herself. “I mean, you did sound concerned,” she said.

“Did you find anything?”

Curian’s smirk grew more mischievous, a twinkle present to her eye that Sophia had gotten to know over their somewhat short time together.

“There’s a window to one of the upper chambers,” Curian said. “It took a bit of looking around, but I spotted it. There’s a subtle glamor keeping it from sight, but I think it may be our ticket back inside.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “And what if it’s a trap? Or heavily guarded?” She paused. “Or it could drop us into the vast abyss inside of the palace.”

Curian blinked. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you? It’s our best option, and one I think that’s worth exploring. Come on, last thing we need to do is linger out here after dark.”

As if in response, something in the distance let out a guttural shriek that pierced the air.

“Yes, let’s keep moving,” Sophia said, switching to a brisk jog to keep up with Curian.

The prospect of sneaking in became less appealing once Sophia saw the section of wall the hidden opening occupied. The air shimmered ever so slightly around the space along a sheer outer wall above a gap in the walkways.

“I don’t suppose you know how to fly, perhaps, and that’s how we’ll get up there,” Sophia said.

Curian laughed in response, but her expression quickly grew serious. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

Sophia looked around, attempting to maintain a poker face in response. Another shriek in the distance shattered that illusion.

“Do I have a choice?”

Curian shrugged. “Sorry before the fact, I suppose,” she said. She grabbed Sophia’s hand and laced her fingers tightly between her compatriot’s, and reached into a pocket with her free hand. There was a soft popping sound.

“Hold on tight,” Curian said.

The ground beneath fell away rapidly, and by the time Sophia realized she was no longer standing on terra firma she was falling through the gap in the wall. Her face contorted as she tried to hold back a shocked scream.

The space beyond the hidden entrance, however, was as devoid of a landing place as the outside, and the two fell through the air downwards.

“Ah, shit,” Curian said. “At least I got to find out what that bottle of captured wind was good for, so not a total loss all things considered.”

Sophia’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t know what it would do?”

“Isn’t learning new things the real spirit of exploration? Only true pursuit in life?” Curian said, grasping at straws as Sophia’s anger only became more apparent.

The world slowed to a stop around Sophia and Curian, and the duo found themselves suspended in air and unable to move.

“You know, it would’ve been far easier to have just demanded entry,” Lady Rhimeghast said. “But you’ve got my attention once again…Now to determine what to do with you.”

Wanted Adventurers – Bridge Over Calming Waters

Posted on by under Wanted Adventurers

Water seeped up through cracks in some of the lower streets of Ankheim, but the mighty walls and heavy doors held fast against the sudden onslaught of water. The citizens breathed a collective sigh of relief as they began to tidy up what little mess there was by the gates.

“Mighty neighborly of you,” Brutus muttered.

Graham flinched, frowning. “I…I suspect we’ve both been at some fault for some time,” he said. He furrowed his brow. “Can’t for the life of me think of what would’ve brought the dam down. I just inspected it not a fortnight ago, and it looked just as it did the day it was built. The protective wards were all in place and everything.”

“Good thing we all made it to safety in time,” Monty said. “Very lucky of us.”

Temperance raised an eyebrow. “Lucky indeed,” she said, a pointedness to her words that wasn’t lost on its intended audience.

Monty opened his mouth to reply, and a knock on the gates rang out. A handful of citizens went to open it.

“Anyone misplace a she-Orc?” asked one of the villagers.

“Answer that at your own risk,” Aranza said, her voice clear and unmistakable.

Monty stepped forward. “My traveling companion,” he said.

Aranza entered, her cloak and leather thoroughly soaked and marked with intermittent spots of moss and dirt.

Temperance reached the duo as Monty finished whispering something.

“Hell of a swim,” Aranza said. “Saw some commotion on the ridge by the dam. Two mages got into a dispute over mushrooms or something, I think. Anyway, one of them threw a fireball. Should’ve seen the look on his face when he missed the other one.”

Temperance’s brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “And where are these mages?”

Aranza shrugged, digging in her ear with a finger. She tilted her head and tapped, resulting in a comical yet concerning stream of water pouring out of her ear.

“Suspect somewhere downstream, if not dead,” Aranza replied. “Best to not think about it too much. Looks like you all got to safety in time. I barely got away with my life.”

Temperance stared at Aranza for a moment longer before her expression softened. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in some dry armor,” she said. “I’ve got some additional funds for unfortunate circumstance purchases. Once that’s squared away we can start back to the Hidden Treasure.”

“How do you reckon?” Monty asked.

Temperance produced the scroll they’d been presented with at the start of the side-quest. The word ‘Complete” had appeared over its original message in large, crimson letters.

“Once we’re back at the Hidden Treasure we can hand this over for our reward,” Temperance said. “Satisfying to have completed something without much conflict, but…” She grumbled something under her breath, trailing off.

“With me,” Temperance said to Aranza. Returning her attention to Monty, she added, “Don’t cause any problems in our absence.”

“On your honor, I won’t,” Monty replied as the Paladin and his partner walked away towards the only armory visible along the main street of Ankheim.

Follow the Ashes – Catastrophe, but Not Before a Drink

Posted on by under Follow The Ashes

Cas looked around at her former cohorts, memories of her time with them gradually returning. She blinked, tried to shake the fog from her head, and sighed.

“Be kind to yourself, friend,” Bertie said, stepping forward. “We know you’re not on the most even footing, so to speak, and things are coming back gradually. For the best, you know, since unlocking all of your memories at once would be quite dangerous.”

Maeve scoffed. “What kindness did she afford us? Were we not but pawns in this ordeal?”

Bertie opened his mouth, but stopped short as Cas raised a hand.

“I barely remember you,” Cas said. Maeve’s lips curled into a sneer. “It would seem I’ve wrong you in some way, however, and I’d be open to discussing that further.” She hesitated.

“Beyond the injuries I caused you recently,” Cas added. “I’m…Er, I’m glad to see you appear to have recovered.”

Raph stepped between the two. “See? What nice progress this has been.”

Bertie chuckled. “We’re on something of a tight schedule, I fear,” he said. “Gavin’s untimely expiration is undoubtedly a sign that Vittorio something’s amiss.”

Cas shook her head. “What is it you need from me next, then?” she asked. “I know it’s my fault the Earth is burning, but what can I do now?”

Bertie chuckled softly, the sound a sour humor–sadness mixed with his amusement. “The best person to answer that is dead,” he said. He smiled. “You took his eye, though, didn’t you?”

Cas reached into her pocket and found what she was looking for by a familiar cold to the touch feeling. She removed Gavin’s cybernetic eye from her pocket and held it up. It vibrated gently in her grasp as small points of light traced paths along the eye’s surface. The pupil lit up, dim at first, and then shot forth a beam of light that pointed ahead.

“Best not dally,” Bertie said. “Battery life on those was never terrific without a power source. We’ll wait right here for you.”

“That’s a conversation for you and Gavin only,” Raph said in response to Cas’ raised eyebrow.

Cas took a step forward along the corridor as she followed the light from the eye. The beam went to the end of the hall, visible as a point of red light where it stopped. When Cas reached the wall, the eye unexpectedly swiveled in her grasp. She nearly dropped it, but managed to hold fast. It pointed to the left-leading corridor, and so Cas followed. She reached the corner, and followed the corridor to the right until she reached another corner. The eye lead her to the halfway point of the corridor and then swiveled to face the wall.

The point of light, Cas noticed, was larger and now formed a flickering X.

“Marks the spot, I suppose,” Cas said. She pressed the eye against the wall, expecting some explosive response. Fanfare. Drama.

Instead she was met with a soft click. A section of wall retreated into the ceiling, and beyond the opening it left was a modest office space. A wooden desk sat in the center of the room. Cas approached and could see it was hand-carved, meticulously and with love of the craft. A small, metal tree stood devoid of leaves on the left side of the desk. A semi-spherical indent interrupted the mess of branches at the tree’s crown.

Cas inhaled as she placed the eye into what looked to be its resting spot, and watched as its light went out.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Tell me the damned battery died.”

Light poured forth from the eye, focused on a single point. It build upwards from the floor, gaining depth and definition until a very lifelike holographic projection of Gavin stood before Cas.

“Hello, Commander,” the projected Gavin said. “If you’re seeing this recording, you likely know I am dead.”

Cas sighed. “And it’s likely my fault.”

The holo-Gavin rolled his eyes and huffed. “I figured I could milk that joke for at least another line or two of dialogue, but no,” he said. “You had to go and rain on my parade. When did you get so dour?”

Cas blinked, stepping back.

“Memory core in the old eye,” holo-Gavin said. “Good for one last conversation. Before we get too far into this…” He gestured at a shelf built into the wall. There were several books and file folders, all analog which was a curious sight given that most everything else was stored in the form of data.

“The one titled ‘The Mysteries of the Isles’,” Gavin instructed.

Cas pulled the book from its resting spot and was surprised it had as much weight to it as it did. She carefully placed it on the desk, and when she opened it she was not met with pages but two crystal glasses and a small decanter.

“Might as well break out the good stuff,” holo-Gavin muttered. “I figured we’d be enjoying it under different circumstances, but I was never very good at gambling. Have a glass for me, would you? You’ll hate it.”

Cas complied, not fully certain as to why. She opened the decanter and was met with a smell like fire and rotting wood. She wrinkled her nose as she poured a modest measure into a glass, then held the glass up and swirled its contents. Before she could let her reservations get the better of her, Cas took a long drink from the glass. It tasted as it smelled, and burned her mouth in a way that made her eyes water and her nose run.

“One of the last bottles of scotch from Earth,” holo-Gavin said. “No age indication, as there was no need. It was one of a small handful. Cost me a small fortune.” He chuckled.

“I told you that you’d hate it, though,” holo-Gavin added.

Cas winced as she powered through the rest of the glass. She poured herself a second one. “To you,” she said as she held it aloft. She sipped it this time, and noticed it was less offensive. Less painful.

“I have so many questions,” Cas conceded.

Holo-Gavin shook his head, motes of dust moving through him where he stood. “If only we had the time.”

“Humor me,” Cas said. “Even just a little.”

“Perhaps, but only a little,” holo-Gavin said. “One question, and then I tell you what you need to know. Then…”

Cas frowned. “Then it’s goodbye, yes?”

Holo-Gavin nodded. “There you go getting all dour again,” he said. “What’s your question? Make it count.”

Cas considered her options. Ever since she had woken up to only the command for her to follow the ashes, and ever since Gavin had begun to pursue her, he had remained something of a mystery. Even with her memories coming back, she wasn’t sure who the real Gavin was or what motivated him.

Holo-Gavin tapped his wrist, and a small timer displayed in the air. It did not have much time left to it.

“I know,” Cas said at last. “Don’t laugh at me, though.”

“Oh ho ho, this should be good,” holo-Gavin said.

Cas held up a finger, and holo-Gavin stopped chuckling.

“Very well,” holo-Gavin said. “What’s your question?”

Cas hesitated, but forced the words to leave her mouth. “Was there a time we were friends, Gavin?”

Gavin smiled. It was a smile of genuine happiness, and for a moment it was as if he had come back to life. “That’s one hell of a question,” holo-Gavin said. “We were far more than friends, though. We were practically family.”

Piece 20 – Two Pieces with One Fracture in Reality

Posted on by under A Puzzling New World

“Curian! Is it really you?” Sophia gasped. “By the Gods, it has been a strange and taxing day.”

Curian smirked, shaking her head. “I had quite the trip myself, you know,” she replied. “Space. I only got a little taste of adventure out there…” She trailed off.

“I’ve got to get back home before I go thinking about the next adventure,” Curian muttered.

Sophia frowned. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. Her expression warmed significantly. “It looks like sorting out this world business was beneficial after all.” She pointed to the altar.

A fragment of the Prognosticarium floated in the air just above the altar. A dark aura emanated from it, points of light like stars visible in the dimness.

Curian laughed. “Go figure,” she said as she retrieved the piece. “One step closer.”

“I’m sure Lady Rhimeghast will be very pleased,” Sophia said. “We’ve got a bit of a journey back. Perhaps you could tell me more of the space you visited while Captain Warpt was here in your place?”

The duo exited the chapel and began walking back towards Rhimeghast Palace.

“Seemed to me like they found entertainment in magic, but not the kind we have,” Curian said. “I was in a vast, haunted mansion, but it wasn’t real. At least it wasn’t supposed to be. There were proper goblins and kobolds that made it over into their world.” She looked down at the piece of the Prognosticarium in her hand.

“How did Alistair come across something so powerful,” Curian wondered aloud. “And why would he just let me have it? It makes no sense.”

Sophia paused. When Curian didn’t notice, she cleared her throat.

“There is a great deal of speculation surrounding the Prognosticarium,” Sophia explained. “I’ve barely scratched the surface in what little reading I did before we embarked on this…well, this rather perilous journey. A common thread, however, seems to be the Prognosticarium has a will of its own to some extent.”

Curian turned the piece over in her hand, staring at it intensely. “Why me, then? I’m no one special?”

Sophia chuckled, drawing a confused look from Curian.

“The people who say things like that are almost always special in some way,” Sophia said. She paused, as if she had caught herself, and added, “Or maybe I’ve read too many novels lately.” She braced against a frigid wind, shuddered, and visibly tried to shake off the cold.

“Suppose we should get back to Rhimeghast Palace,” Curian said. “Don’t want to catch our deaths out here.”

The rest of the walk back to the Palace was largely in silence. Sophia guided the way, and Curian tried to not let the scale of the place distract her too much.

Two heavily-armed ghouls greeted them at the gates.

“Her Ladyship is busy, but wished us to congratulate you on a task well completed,” one ghoul said.

The other held out a hand, palm down, and nodded to Sophia. She reluctantly responded by holding out a hand. The ghoul placed a Piece in it, and the two turned and entered the gate without a word before sealing shut.

“How fortuitous,” Sophia said.

Curian wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t pass the sniff test for me,” she said. “Did you happen to see any other ways in? I think we’ve got a bit of sneaking around to do…”

Warpt Factor – Installment 20

Posted on by under Warpt Factor

Izzy sighed. The haunted mansion seemed a little less impressive after seeing actual monsters and magic in action. This didn’t stop Izzy from taking the ride very seriously. She earned the high score on the ghost hunter portion of the ride, and unlocked the hidden route. At the end, walking along the exit path, Izzy performed a short victory dance that prompted a chuckle from CMO Carter and muttered remarks about being a sore winner from First Officer deCourville.

“So much for this being down-time, eh?” Professor Everest joked. “You doing all right, Captain?”

Izzy smiled. “As far as vacations go, it was a dud,” Izzy replied. “Made for a very impressive distraction. Top notch. Totally threw me off my game. Feeling ready to get back to doing some good, though. What do you think?”

Professor Everest huffed. “Just be careful with that sort of attitude,” he replied. “If you’re not careful, all procedure and proper work focus with no fun will make you into that.” He jerked a thumb towards Fontaine.

“I can hear you, you know,” Fontaine hissed without looking back.

“Let me present a reasonable compromise,” CMO Carter said. She spun around and stopped. “We can cut our trip a little short seeing how the park closes in a couple hours…But would we really want to miss out on making use of our meal passes?”

Fontaine chittered excitedly. “It would be prudent to fully utilize all of the amenities afforded to us with our passes, I would think,” he said, quickly adding, “I have heard such good reviews of the Orbital Opera, after all. I would like to second the motion to enjoy some fine dining and fantastical theater.”

Izzy chuckled. “Who am I, your caring captain, to deny my crew a little more fun before we depart? Let’s do this.”

The Orbital Opera hovered at the height of the park, a globe suspended from the upper reaches of the park’s boundaries. The ceiling, only visible when starstuff bounced against it, was clear and provided a perfect view of the billions of points of light beyond. The tables were in a fixed orbit around a stage at the center of the room, and the show was almost ready to start when Izzy and her crew arrived.

“Oh, wondrous! The tale of the feud between Mars and Earth!” Fontaine chirped.

Izzy enjoyed watching her crew as much as she enjoyed watching the show. It was peaceful. The food was all right, but a bit fancier than she’d have liked. She poked and prodded at it a few times in hopes of drawing Fontaine’s ire only to realize he was too enthralled by the performance. Giving in to the situation, Izzy forced herself to relax. By the end of the show, she was even enjoying herself a little though Izzy also found herself making mental notes of points to take back to her history teachers on Earth regarding how the Earthen Alliance at the time chose to approach welcoming the Martians into their great allegiance. By force.

“Exquisite!” Fontaine cheered as he leapt up, clapping all four hands.

Professor Everest snorted. “I’ve seen better versions,” he replied. “Spoiled myself by seeing the original cast. Everything else is just…eh.”

CMO Carter offered a friendly nod to Izzy. She raised an eyebrow.

“What? Do I have food stuck in my teeth?” Izzy asked. “Fancy food stuck in my teeth? Goodness, how embarrassingly classy of me.”

CMO Carter shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve got a message.” She pointed to Izzy’s CommLink. The small indicator light at the top of its screen blinked bright red.

“Huh,” Izzy said. “An Urgent one, too.”

She opened the message and reviewed it. The sender was anonymous, and the origin details were clearly heavily encrypted. All that was clear was the small map in the body of the message. Izzy continued to stare at it intensely. The sharp snapping of fingers pulled her back to the present.

“Is something wrong, Captain Warpt?” CMO Carter asked.

Izzy sighed. “Coordinates,” she said. “Mystery coordinates. I think it’s an invitation from our scary friend back on Rigel Six.”

CMO Carter downed the rest of her drink and sighed.

“Off we go,” Izzy said. “Crew, we’re starbound in ten. Don’t want to keep our host waiting.”

Wanted Adventurers – A Tale of Two Towns

Posted on by under Wanted Adventurers

“Murkmuck Heights was beautiful, it was,” Brutus explained. “Bogwater to the edge of each yard gave us all ample fishing spaces, and the crops we grew…” The Bridge Troll’s eyes focused on a distant place not of the world but instead in a place of memory.

“I was but a young lad when Murkmuck was that way, before these thieving, thoughtless fools showed up,” Brutus continued, his gaze now fixed on the people of Ankheim who cowered just within the city’s gates, visible but clearly ready to flee to safety.

The old man stepped forward and straightened up, his expression sour. “That’s not how I recall it, and I was nearly an old man when you were the young troll you say you were back then,” he snapped.

Aranza produced a throwing knife in each hand, prepared to strike. “Give me a reason,” she hissed. “Just one.”

Monty raised a hand. “What’s your name, elder?” he added. “Let’s start with that, and be cautious to not provoke my travel companion as she has something of a temper. Her aim’s truer than any you’ve ever met.”

The old man hesitated, his eyes flicking between Aranza and Monty. “Graham Lockhaven. The current mayor. The last one fled, screaming, across the bridge into the night and was never seen again. Likely eaten by that foul creature!”

Aranza sighed. “You were doing so well.” She raised a dagger, but stopped short of throwing it.

“Thank you,” Monty said.

“Yes, I would prefer to not have to detain you,” Temperance added.

Aranza glared at her travel companions. “I didn’t do it for either of you,” she snapped. “Those aren’t the eyes of a murderer or a thief. A sad old man, maybe. I see a lot of regret in those eyes.”

Graham winced, looking away. “We didn’t come by this land the most honest way, but the damn trolls certainly didn’t make us feel welcome.”

Aranza returned the blades to their sheaths with a sigh. “Fine. What did the Trolls do? And why is there only one?”

“My family’s legacy was here! We were all driven away, and I vowed to reclaim what was ours!” Brutus sneered.

Graham shook his head. “We came here after we were chased from our homes in Northern Verdanthia, back when the drakes still roamed freely,” he said. “Back before the Guild helped bring peace. We begged and gave everything, and the trolls agreed to give us space…So we built together. Only when the Trolls demanded we offer up more…”

“Your ilk drained the bogs! Our precious fishing grounds, all but gone and replaced with this!” Brutus snarled in response.

Aranza looked around as she listened. Monty kept a watchful eye on her, and when he saw a familiar expression cross her face he stepped aside as she walked back across the bridge. Temperance began to step into her path, but was stopped.

“Best leave her to whatever she’s up to,” Monty said as Temperanced walked to the opposite shore, then along the cliffs and out of sight.

“Oy! I didn’t say you could go!” Brutus shouted. “Definitely a Guild type, that one. No manners to speak of! Where was I, now?”

Temperance shook her head. “You were bickering back and forth regarding who was more at fault, I believe,” she replied. “I lost it somewhere along the way when my head began to hurt.”

Monty chuckled. “You’ve got some jokes, I see,” he replied.

Temperance raised an eyebrow, shifting. “I…I suppose I do,” she replied.

A bright flash of light illuminated Ankheim, its rays rushing along the valley and giving the river far below an ethereal glow. The deafening explosion followed immediately behind, the sound and shockwave enough to knock trees over. Brutus braced against it with ease, while Monty and Temperance struggled and Graham was knocked to his side.

Graham struggled to stand back up. A hand was held out, and he gasped as he saw Brutus towering over him.

“Steady does it, old man,” Brutus said. “No toll for this one. What do you reckon caused that noise?”

Graham’s eyes grew wide. “Oh Gods no,” he muttered. “Everyone inside! The damn dam’s been downed!”

Temperance and Monty followed Graham’s gaze with their own, and saw something unsettling in the distance. A towering wall of water capped by roiling foam roared onward along the valley, its height great enough to threaten the bridge.

“Lovely time to visit Ankheim, don’t you think?” Monty said, grabbing Temperance’s hand. He broke into a sprint, Temperance easily outpacing and then dragging him along. She scooped up Graham with her free arm and made it past the gathering of people.

Brutus ran after, but the gate began to shut.

“No, damn it, let him in!” Graham shouted.

The doors shut just as the tempestuous wall of water crashed down.

Follow the Ashes – His Name Was Gavin

Posted on by under Follow The Ashes

It was a dreary day, like many had been for the better part of a year. The rain drew trails along the outer panes of glass, any debris that had settled on their surface the night before burned away by the acidity of the rainwater. Bright, phosphorescent lightning bolts split the otherwise night-dark sky though it was only just past noon local time.

“Commander Cassiopeia.”

Cas snapped back to attention. She blinked, looking around to take in her surroundings. She was in an office, pristine and meticulously organized. She turned around. The desk behind her–her desk, she surmised thanks to a simple, black and white name tag–had a computer that looked in need of replacing, and an empty picture frame with a metal dog tag draped over it.

The officer who had entered wasn’t one with whom Cas was familiar. He stood at attention, and saluted when Cas acknowledged him.

“At ease, Captain Wilkins,” Cas said after returning the salute. “What can I do for you?”

Some of the tension left Captain Wilkins. “You’ve been assigned a new lieutenant, ma’am.”

Cas sighed. “I’d told them I don’t need a glorified assistant,” she replied abruptly. She paused, and considered her next words with care. “Forgive me. It’s been a taxing day.”

Captain Wilkins waved off the concern. “No apologies needed, Commander,” he said. “Keeping up with the protective coatings on the base to keep the constant weather anomalies has many of us a bit…Well, unfiltered I suppose. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Appreciated,” Cas said. “And is this new lieutenant here?”

Captain Wilkins nodded. “Just outside,” he replied. “Shall I bring him in?”

Cas acted as if she was weighing her options in her hands, prompting a chuckle from the Captain.

“I suppose so,” Cas replied finally.

Captain Wilkins turned and motioned to the new lieutenant. He offered a salute and left as the Cas’s newest cohort stepped into the room. When he entered, Cas blinked a few times.

He was slightly shorter than Cas. His hair, a raven shade of black, was swept neatly back and held with product. He was thin–a sign he did not come from money, and therefore had limited access to food. A bandage covered one of his eyes, and the other one probed at Cas.

“Commander Cassiopeia. Let me just start by saying what an honor it is to be assigned to you, and to such an important project,” the lieutenant said.

Cas nodded. “The Ellipse is proving to be quite an undertaking. I hope you’re not easily frightened by long hours, difficult problems, and insurmountable odds…Sorry, what was it again?”

“Apologies, Commander. Lieutenant Gavin Redford, reporting for duty,” the lieutenant, Gavin, replied.

Cas studied Gavin. “Do you have a brother, perhaps?” she asked. “Another relative I may have crossed paths with, perhaps?”

Gavin shook his head. He frowned. “I can’t say I do,” he replied, adding, “My condolences for your loss. I’d heard about your husband’s passing in the line of duty.” He nodded to the frame and the dog tag that rested atop it.

Cas shook her head. “He died in a skirmish over water reserves,” she replied. “Killed by some of his own men, no less.”

“Pardon my asking, but I had heard you chose to not seek the death penalty as is customary in such…events,” Gavin said. “Why is that?”

“A bit of a bold question on a rather heavy subject,” Cas said, a finger raised. “Perhaps we can talk about this once I’ve learned if you’re up to snuff for this project. What happened to your eye?”

Gavin smiled. “Cybernetic eye,” he said. “Still healing, freshly installed and everything. I had a suspicion it could come in handy. Time will tell, though, won’t it?”

Cas snapped sharply back to the present upon feeling the cold metal of Gavin’s cybernetic eye in her pocket. As her vision returned to focus, she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Raph,” Cas said. “It’s so good to see you. We’ve got a lot to discuss, and not much time to do so I fear.”

Raph saluted in response. Maeve and Bertie stepped into view.

“My dear friend,” Bertie said. “We’ve got far more to discuss than you could possibly imagine.”

Piece 19 – A Puzzling, Warpt World

Posted on by under A Puzzling New World

Izzy paused at the entrance to the hall. Everything about the atmosphere the place exuded just screamed haunted house–the abundance of cobwebs on toppled chairs and dust-caked tables, the rusted chandeliers that dangled perilously from chains that could give way any second, and the mysterious specter that loomed at the head of the hall where the seat of honor remained whole though empty.

The dark form twisted and folded into itself in the air above the table at the end of the hall.

“Curious,” Sophia thought aloud. “In a village like this, that’s where the Elders would sit when gathered to discuss important matters…”

Izzy snapped back to the moment after having been laser-focused on recalling the voice. “Curious because there’s no Elders or curious because there’s a spooky monster above the table like the world’s ugliest chandelier?”

Sophia smiled. “Forgive me, I know that’s something you may not know,” she replied. “The Elders of a village like this were considered a step beneath the Gods. When they met it was to decide important matters that often dictated the fate of their village. That space is covered in protective runes and wards.” She pointed, and Izzy squinted to see.

The etchings were faint in some places, but still there. Clear, precise lines carved into the stone floor. Carvings, ornate and in concert with the decorative markings, were visible on the table and each of the chairs. Perhaps it was a trick of the curious lighting, but as Izzy looked at the markings they seemed to give off a dull glow as if to challenge any with ill intent to step back. Little lights in the darkness.

***

Little lights in the darkness, the candles the lizardfolk that Curian identified as Kobolds–or, as she’d put it more bluntly, gecko bastards–were all that helped lead the way along the dark corridor. The goblins marched along the walls in lockstep, and each had a dagger readied as if they were out for blood at the first sign of disobedience.

“Quite the predicament you’ve gotten us in,” Fontaine muttered. “All because you two insisted we take this blasted leisure time!”

Professor Everest stepped ahead a little too far, and the toe of his boot caught the heel of Fontaine’s in a way that caused him to stumble ever so slightly. The goblins were fast, but none struck. Instead, as they processed what had happened, they laughed to themselves.

“Dumb lot, this group,” one goblin said.

“Nothing but bickering,” another goblin added.

“They’ll make a handsome sacrifice, though,” a third goblin said. “Master’s hungry.”

Curian’s ears perked up at this. “Master’s hungry? What manner of master is it that goblins serve these days? Thought you served yourselves and only yourselves.”

The goblin nearest to Curian let out a hiss of hot, foul breath, but Curian did not flinch away.

“We goblins are smart,” the goblin sneered. “Times change and reality is what powerful people say it is. You get a chance to change reality by helping one such powerful person? Well, you don’t need to worry about that seein’ as we’re about to feed you to them.”

“Ah, shit,” Curian said. She turned to CMO Carter, glanced at the others, then returned her attention to Carter. “They’re definitely in a cult. No idea what their master might be, though, so…Keep your wits about you. The big guy any good in a fight?”

CMO Carter shrugged. “I’d be lying if I said I knew,” she said. “We’d only just met not that long ago, and their…Well, my Captain now, I suppose…Captain Warpt sorted things out nonviolently by threatening to blow up the planet.”

Curian stopped abruptly enough that Fontaine walked into her and fell backwards. “Threatened to blow up a planet?” She chuckled. “I hope I get to meet this Captain. I bet she’s got some fun stories to tell.”

***

“I don’t know you,” Izzy said. “You’re not a real person to me, just some spooky children’s show bad guy who killed people to try to scare me. I couldn’t even escape you on a vacation that was inflicted on me! Good grief.”

The shadowy form seemed to consider this as it shifted and reshaped into different faces. “You have few enemies and your memories are…baffling.”

“They’re organized, thank you very much,” Izzy replied proudly. “I’ve got all my thoughts in the right order. Ducks in a neat little row. You just see ’em as squirrels darting around the forest because you don’t know me.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the way of putting it,” she said.

“Something something codifying memories and thoughts,” Izzy muttered. “I got bored one summer, happened upon a video, and anyway that’s how I spent the next four sleepless days. I think? I can’t always remember.”

Behind the shadow, the wall began to shift and churn. The shadowy form shuddered, and there was an unmistakable muttering to the effect of concern. Protrusions from its top portion morphed into long, many-jointed stalks that ended in bloodshot eyes. Its central form collapsed to a bulbous shape, and at its center was a single, angry, bloodshot eye. The being turned to the shifting wall, its attention temporarily not fixed on Sophia and Izzy.

“Dang, that’s ugly!” Izzy said, clearly not concerned if the creature heard her.

“I’m not sure what it is, to be honest,” Sophia said. “I’ve never encountered anything like it in my years of studies.”

The wall gave way to a long, dim corridor lit by curious candles alight with black flames. Something moved within the corridor, and Sophia and Izzy crept closer as their curiosity got the better of them.

“Looks like they’ve got back-up,” Sophia muttered.

Izzy jumped up and down. “My crew!” she shouted. “And some little Godzillas!”

“Kobolds,” one of the creatures hissed from within the corridor.

Curian looked around the shadowy creature, an eyebrow raised. She spotted Sophia and smiled. “Looks like you’ve made a friend!” she called out.

CMO Carter, Professor Everest, and Fontaine peered around the shadowy creature.

“Captain Warpt! Thank the stars, you’re all right!” Fontaine exclaimed.

CMO Carter and Professor Everest exchanged smirks.

“Be careful! That creature looks similar to a Witness from an old fantasy game,” Fontaine added. He winced. “Not that I would know from personal experience. Purely research.”

Curian patted Fontaine on the back. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wizard of plus ten wishful thinking,” she chided. “Bug-boy’s right, though. You know what to do, Soph?”

Sophia tapped her chin. “It seemed to take issue with you, Captain Warpt, Sorry. Izzy.”

Izzy nodded. “It’s cool, no worries,” she said. “Hey, big ugly!”

The goblins and kobolds surrounding the group in the corridor seemed to take issue with this comment, and yet none of them appeared to know how to handle their deity being called such a name. They remained still, their attention fixed on the Witness.

“Hey there ug-uh-leeeee!” Izzy shouted. “Look at me!”

The Witness turned and shifted, its form nebulous and murky again.

“Oy! They’re not what they said they are!” shouted one of the goblins. The shadows shuddered, a faint light briefly emanated from deep within its form, and the offending goblin crumbled to dust.

The Witness settled on a vague shape somewhere between Spiral Reach’s Chancellors and Izzy’s parents. “You are so very disappointing,” they hissed. “So. Very. Disappointing!”

Izzy shrugged. “I might have annoyed my instructors, but I’ve never bugged anyone enough for them to say I’m a disappointment. Heard I’m eccentric a lot.”

The Witness’s form began to glow with a faint, sickening light

Sophia gestured to Curian, who ran to the Witness’s side and waved her arms. “Yeah, ugly! Over here! I want my turn at your cheap mind-reading tricks.”

The Witness turned its attention to Curian, and its form changed to that of Dullahan. “Your world and the others will fall before my might,” it hissed. “Not bad. I like this form. Its mission suits me. You, however…” The Witness began to glow again.

“Hideous abomination!” Fontaine shouted. “Turn your gaze upon me and know your demise!” Professor Everest coughed to mask the brief bout of laughter that escaped.

“Enough!” The Witness roared. It glowed a vile green, and the glow quickly spread to everyone but Curian and Izzy.

“You chose to play games, and so a game we shall play,” the Witness sneered. “Select which of your worlds–your reality–will become my next meal. Failing to choose will only end with my devouring both of them!” It cackled wildly. The others were clearly in pain, their features frozen in contorted pictures of agony.

Izzy reached slowly for her sidearm. It felt heavier, and the metal seemed to call to her.

Yet she still didn’t want to take another creature’s life.

“Choose, or I will choose for you!” The Witness roared.

It turned to face Izzy, a toothy grin bisecting its face. “Perhaps I will take both worlds just to savor the sweet notes of suffering I feel radiating from you.” It opened its mouth and began to laugh again, but the sound that followed was far less jubilant as it gasped and sputtered.

“What is this treachery?” the Witness howled as its form convulsed between states it began to slowly rotate, which afforded Izzy a clear view of the strange weapon jutting from the Witness. It looked like a dagger wedged in a long stick at a glance.

“Had a wild, improbable idea and I figured what the Hells have I got to lose?” Curian replied.

“Something from each world as a weapon?” Izzy commented. “Super cool if true.”

Curian smiled “Super cool it is, and it looks like I was onto something.”

The Witness screamed and howled, smoke curling from its form as it spun faster and faster. It came undone slowly at first, dark smoke flinging from it until there was nothing left.

The air shimmered with a warm light and the magic that held the others in place faded. The goblins and kobolds fled without another word, and were not pursued.

“Not worth it,” Curian said as Professor Everest prepared to take chase. She walked across the small span of hall between her and Izzy and offered a mock salute. “Captain Warpt, I presume. Curian. I trust you’ve kept my traveling companion safe?”

Sophia cleared her throat. “I’m right here, you know,” she said.

“It’s almost as if I can hear her voice now, sending messages from some distant place,” Izzy snarked back prompting a hearty chuckle from Curian.

“Not bad,” Curian said. The air grew thicker with the shimmering magic.

“Looks like you best get back to your crew,” Curian said. “They missed you. Said something about time off?”

Izzy nodded. “We’ll see. I think I’ve had enough sitting back and relaxing after…Well, this silliness.” She gestured broadly. “Take care. May your mission be successful, and your course clear. Or something like that.”

Curian offered another, more sincere salute as Izzy backed away towards her crew. “I’m still a far way from home, but if we ever cross paths again we should grab a bite to eat. Swap stories. I’d bet you’ll have plenty to share.” The light in the air grew to an unbearable brightness.

“I’d like that,” Izzy said as the dining hall vanished, replaced entirely by the haunted mansion. A mechanized spider the size of a city bus dipped from the ceiling, and prompted Fontaine to shriek in horror.

Curian sighed, the wall where Izzy and her crew stood now no more than a wall. She turned to Sophia and forced a smile.

“Please tell me you at least sorted out how to get the next Piece.” Curian said.