Private Vintergard Heavy Metals

[Corsair]

Corsair's work had stalled after her second construct. No amount of tinkering, or studying the standing stones in the forest, or arguing with the local guild members could improve her tiny frog or her fist-sized spider.

"We just don't have the knowledge! This is a small town, miss. If you want people with experience of those fancy magics then you'll need to go elsewhere," the guild manager had said.
Corsair had glared at him. "Where?"
"Well, uh, Vintergard? Maybe? Lots of magitech out there."

The wolf spirit inside the spider seemed restless, too. It clearly yearned for upgrades, probably longer legs and non-microscopic jaws, and Corsair ached to give them what they wanted. So one night she packed up her essentials, stuffed the pair of constructs into her pockets, and took a cart ride out of town, heading .

As the hours wasted away in the back of the cart, she looked over the paper she'd snatched from the man at the guild. It was a faded quest, asking for volunteers to explore the ruins of Vintergard. Phrases like 'opportunity for swift advancement', 'hazard pay', and 'healers wanted' stuck out like upside-down nails. "If this is the price of knowledge, then so be it."

Camp Hope IV was a mess of soldiers, supplies, and semi-temporary housing, all sprawling backwards from a deep trench dug into the soil. DO NOT CROSS! said a sign planted on the near side of the trench. DEFENSE TURRETS ACTIVE BEYOND THIS POINT!

"Defense turrets?" Corsair asked out loud, her voice full of wonder. She peered into the distance, trying to get a glimpse of the weapons. All she could see was the rise of a defensive embankment, beyond which was presumably the city they'd be exploring.

"You new?" asked a rough voice. It was a man in heavy armor with a pitted shield and a lance over one shoulder. He looked tired.
"Yes. I'm here to join one of the adventuring parties into the city."
"Over there. Not much of a party though," said the knight, nodding at a tent that was already packed with people. It seemed there was no shortage of bodies ready to throw themselves into the unknown.
"Thank you," Corsair said, but the knight just grunted and walked off. She strode over to the tent, ready for adventure.

@Cain Darlite

 

[Cain Darlite]

It was, indeed, not much of a party.

As Corsair approached the packed tent, she realized that more and more of the people were injured, sporting cauterised lacerations and splint-bound limbs. Travel through Vintergard was dangerous indeed, even at a distance, and if one misjudged their proximity to the more protected zones of shattered city…well, the wounds of those closer inside spoke for themselves: limbs reduced to stumps. Fist-sized holes punched into torsos. One of the adventurers even had a chunk of their head missing, the grisly details thankfully hidden by soiled bandages. And yet, they were all here still. Ready to adventure, even if there was no longer much of a party.

Because, with the presence of a particular individual, they could continue on so long as they didn’t die.

Standing in the center of the tent that smelled of blood and medicine, a midnight-haired muse stood, dressed in an anachronistic swallowtail suit that seemed to writhe in the candle light. Within the shadows cast, stars sparkled, and surrounding him were gossamer chords that resonated with the wordless song that he sang. Iedi’s Hymn, the reverence for a Goddess that no longer existed in this iteration of Terrasphere, drawing a soothing heat out of one’s body with the memories of festivities past and future. Bodies warmed, violent imperfections molded over like clay once more, as the radial healing spell expanded further and further to encompass all that flocked to that particular camp for a spot of healing. And gradually, like the ebbing of a tide, the crowds began to pull away, their flesh mended, their blood refilled, until, at the song’s conclusion, only the last few remained, and only because they had been rendered unconscious by their wounds previously.

He let out a breath, neck popping as he took a quick swig from his waterskin. Sweatdrops beaded down his neck, but there was no particular sign of fatigue as he adjusted the hat on his head, gray gaze gradually settling on the one person who remained standing there.

Right, it was about time, wasn’t it?

“Greetings, Maiden of the Gray Fortress,” the man intoned, vestiges of his Harmonic magic still clinging to his voice. “I am Cain Darlite, once the Flagbearer of Miracles and now but a bard wandering through a land greatly changed. I suppose you too have taken on the task of uncovering the intricacies of the fallen dragon’s persistent magic?”

 

[Corsair]

As the musician played, Corsair felt her weariness slipping away like bad memories. Her aching muscles, battered by the trip here. Exhaustion from nights spent up too late worrying over some join or break in her constructs. Cuts that she'd never fully healed from last week's battles. His healing was immense. It was delicate. It was years of refined skill, and it reminded her that her healing was the product of a few hours of experimentation. She was a novice in the presence of a master.

It was just the two of them now. The gathering tent had emptied apart from the unconscious wounded, and she watched them breathe easy in their soothed sleep.

Flagbearer of Miracles, she thought, letting the man's voice wash over her. She shuddered. I can believe that.

"I am Corsair," she said, bowing slightly in reverence, "new to this land, this world, and now in search of magitech so that I can further my studies. There is much I don't know, and I was sent here by my local guild." She pulled out her constructs, a frog and a spider, each filled with the swirling mists of a soul housed within. "They said I would find answers here." She circled back to his greeting. "What is the Gray Fortress? Is that this place? And what brings you to these lands?"

@Cain Darlite

 

[Cain Darlite]

A player, but it was easy enough to tell that just with a quick Investigation. Cain's eyes glimmered slightly as the Magia revealed her own host of specializations, mechanical servants with a spark of life that reminded him of Surrechis's own puppetry. Curious critters, though for a being practically composed of magitech, it was perhaps to be expected that she could bring them forth.

"Ah," Cain nodded. "The Adventurer's Guild must have a substantial amount of faith then." In either his capabilities or hers. "The Gray Fortress though…" His expression turned wistful, even as his mind worked at doubletime to craft together something that sounded even slightly reasonable or lore-friendly. Having been out of the loop for four years, the midnight-haired muse himself knew little of their proper origins. But he had heard stories whilst rediscovering the lands that exiled him. Of the tower that plunged into the earth. Of the whale that crested the clouds. And, of course, of the Dragonfall.

He sat himself down.

"Magia. Machines granted the spark of sentience by magic. Puppets made their own master by a creator's whims. Weapons, of wars long past, and now treasures, the stars of every black market auction. And yet, though years pass and prodigious wizards pass with it, the secret to creating a Magia remains obscure." One hand gesticulated, as if weaving images by drawing in the air itself. Not all songs were sung. "So they speak, and so they sing. Of the Gray Fortress, the Last Remnant of the Steelhearts, the Jeweled Crown of a civilization long passed. Where machinery toils still, and where the Magia craft their own, far off the coast of this continent."

Was that the sound of a dragon's cry? The sound of a whale's lament?

"They speak of a Heaven torn out of their circuitry, and of an exile that sees them pulled by salt-stained currents unto foreign shores. But that, perhaps, is not the answer you seek as a player, Corsair."

Cain stood up once more, pulling his swallowtail coat over his shoulders and placing his hat over his head, spending just another moment to adjust the cerulean feather affixed to it. "Disregarding the matter of the duty that has entwined us, I am here to survey, first hand, what destruction has been laid upon Vintergard, as well as to witness what flagging strength remains in the behemoth that laid waste to it. I suspect, though, that you aren't here to perform the last rites to that fallen dragon?"

 

[Corsair]

The secret to creating a Magia remains obscure. The words stuck with Corsair. Just like in our world. Some things are beyond our understanding. At least for now.

The bard's tale was wonderous, and fraught with more proper nouns that she doesn't recognize. Names of people she's never read of in her biographies, and places she hasn't spotted on of her maps. How did this man know so much? And how did he speak freely yet reveal so little.

A dozen branching questions pushed through Corsair's mind, each struggling to find their way to her tongue first. Yet before she could ask about the Steelhearts, he laid his own plan out, something more daring than the salvage smash-and-grab that she had envisioned.

"You want to perform last rites? For a crashed ship?" It seemed strange, and yet what was so different between a magitech ship and a singular, mechanical body? This world likely held funerals for slain magia, so why not for a robot the size of a city? It was still active, too. Did Cain mean to end the flagging life of the ship?

If the tales were true then the flying machine was a bastion of unknown technology. A river from which secrets crawled and a vault filled with unseen wizardry. This was the ark of knowledge Corsair had been asking for! She had hitched a ride West just to scavenge at the boundaries, and now this man wove a tail so compelling that she couldn't help but be drawn into quest.

"Let me join you," she said, eyes gleaming with greed. The allure of discovery outweighed even the heaviest protests and most blaring warnings. Into the behemoth itself? What could be inside? Magitech the likes of which the world had never seen! She would be an overnight scholar. A sensation. A magia that knew more about magitech than anyone else in the world. "I must see what's inside the ship."

 

[Cain Darlite]

Ah, there it was, the sparkle that any adventurer, if they were truly suited for adventuring, possessed. A curiosity that would immolate the self. A greed that would drive one beyond the boundaries of life and death. So even a Magia so disaffected could be drawn to the allure of secrets and treasures, of knowledge obnubilated by the cycles of the stars and the sun. How familiar. How charming.

“If fate unfolds itself before us, then we shall,” Cain replied, a daring smile perhaps mismatched by the tightness he felt in his jaw. “Though understand, that a life unmarred by the afflictions of past deaths is more precious still.” From his vest, he retrieved a map of the area, sharing it with the Maiden. It was imprecise, as maps drawn under duress by unskilled cartographers were, but with an overlay of the original map of Vintergard, it painted a picture accurate and dire, as well as an image of the truly colossal form of the dragon itself, wings, torso, head, and limbs all skewed out across the city. There were scarlet circles drawn too into the map, entrances to the underground tunnels that allowed one to traverse without encountering magitech sentries…in exchange for having to deal with the earthboring Bloodwurms, whose population had exploded over the years that followed the catastrophe.

“Of this map, there are three areas to note. The Dragontail is the easiest location to delve into, owing to the sparser concentration of the sentinels, but unfortunately, lacks the most in regards to secrets yet to be uncovered. The Dragonhead remains suspended within that city-splitting trench, guarded heavily but perhaps possessing the yet-unrotted ‘brain’ of this mechanical aberration. The Dragonchest, though, has fused itself with the former Palace of the King, augmenting the castle’s former defenses with a magitech-automated touch. Needless to say, all three of these are still very lethal locales, even for powerful Travellers.”

He peered into Corsair’s eyes.

“With this understanding, do you have any input as to our approach?”

 

[Corsair]

A life unmarred by the afflictions of past deaths? The bard was sounding like a fortune teller, or a scientologist.

Some people believed in karma, reincarnation, in some great beyond. Corsair didn't, and it was her fear of the void that drove her onwards with single-minded purpose.

"And are you marked by past deaths?" Corsair asked, not sure what sort of answer to expect. Was he talking about the game or about life in general? She'd never died in the game. Not even close. In fact, she hadn't even heard about it happening to any of her friends either.

Maybe death wasn't something people talked about. Or maybe the game was just so easy that it wasn't a problem. She assumed that there were infinite lives or a simple respawn system. Still, even with pain limiters on it couldn't be a pleasant experience.

Corsair looked over the map as Cain explained its broad strokes. It wasn't a work of art, few maps are, but it gave her the general layout of the area, and far exceeded the vast, blank canvas of her own experience.

"So. Which is the most important: safety, knowledge, or strength? I would ordinarily say knowledge above all else, but I am not yet familiar enough with the technology of this ship so I would lean towards the acquisition of introductory tech before we strike out for the brain." Corsair's current magitech limitations hung over her like a cloud of static. "Even if we acquired the 'brain' I wouldn't know what to do with it yet. But perhaps we will only get one chance at this."

Corsair weighed up the options before placing a finger delicately on map, tapping the marked Dragonhead. "If we make for the brain, can you take the brunt of the offensive duties? My magitech abilities far outweigh my prowess in regular combat, so while I may be able to shut some of the resistance we face I consider myself far more utility than brawl."

 

[Cain Darlite]

“Only one.”

His hand rested on his heart. Years ago, he could rip it out and offer it to the stars, but now? Two lives were left before her life became substituted. Yet here he was still, willing to go dive into the deep. For what?

Corsair, it appeared, didn’t need any of his warnings though. For all her greed, the Magia was able to rein it in still, rather than going for a jackpot that no other adventuring party had accomplished before. The acquisition of introductory technology was doable indeed, but, as for her own expectations of his capabilities…

The midnight-haired muse laughed.

“If we were to approach any place within the territory of these magitech destroyers, it would be through subterfuge and stealth that our success manifests. Let it be known, Corsair, that if we encounter anything beyond your standard Sentry or Regulator, I will fight as the rear guard, and we are both to gracefully retreat while abandoning all prospect of keeping our plunder.”

And even a battle against one of those walking cannons would be a tight one at a distance. Couldn’t face it head on or try to outrange it, and victory would rely, fundamentally, on smashing it to bits before the fight dragged out, rather than slugging it out. Dangerous critters everywhere.

“With your prowess regarding magitech though,” Cain smiled, “I suppose the first order of your research would be to acquire living samples of the machines that stalk the Dragon’s Grave?”

 

[Corsair]

Corsair was relieved at the man's knowledge of the area and their enemy, and as he talked she took out a box of scraps and started putting something together right there at the table. "I can work with subterfuge. As you can see I'm built to be as resilient and as unobtrusive as possible." Tools appeared in her hands as she worked with the surety of a surgeon, only fusing instead of slicing. Metal hulls, glossy panels, refurbished servos, and a variety of tightly-bound cabling went inside the construct.

"Ideally, we would make it in, take the whole brain, and then leave the way we came, having never encountered a single enemy." She said it like a CEO laying out an optimistic 5-year projection for a tech startup. "But I'm sure we're both aware of the chance of that happening. As you've mentioned, the greatest threat to our safety is detection, followed by swift annihilation. I believe that we can withstand a few rounds of combat, but the better situation would be if the threat was simply elsewhere." She passed a tiny torch across the underside of the magitech, sealing some unseen fault. Done, she tapped the tap of the creature she'd made. It resembled a beetle. All hard, hemispherical case over a selection of wriggling, almost-matching legs.

"I'll plant this on our way in an activate it if we're likely to be spotted, and while I agree to retreat I absolutely refuse to lose any worthwhile plunder. If we get deep enough to take something from that brain then I'm keeping it, bard." Her voice was as hard as her hands, and as the beetle crawled slowly across the table she put her tools back in her coat.

"As you say though, that's the end goal. For now, simply securing some living samples and seeing what we're up against would be more than ideal. I can make something much better than this distraction, I'm sure."

She deactivated the beetle, sliding it into her side pouch before packing the remaining scrap back into her bag, a clear sign that she was ready to go. "And while we're walking you can tell me how you died. I'd like to avoid any setbacks to either of us, and data is always useful."

 

[Cain Darlite]

“You’re free to attempt that, Corsair,” Cain replied. There was that greed again. Manageable still, but to bloom like a flower in quicksand, enticing others to approach and to drown. She remained bright though, and more importantly, realistic. “So long as your hands are swift enough to store it within the folds of space before we truly need to sprint.”

He kicked up his flagpole, leaning it over his shoulder, and with a tap of his heel against the ground, the two of them set off, their movements silenced by an inversion of Harmonic magic. Subtler tricks had become his preference in recent days, but perhaps that was just owing to how much his inspiration had withered with age. It helped though. Noise suppressed, they made their way doggedly into the ruined landscape of Vintergard, crouching beneath collapsed buildings as they kept their heads on a swivel. Sentries, this far out, were easy enough to avoid. Plenty of adventurers made their way towards the Dragon’s Tail without issue, the magitech monstrosities themselves deeming such an area as a lower priority in their patrol patterns.

So Cain indulged in her curiosity some.

“If one speaks of memorable, near-death experiences, I suppose I could regale you with the tale of Applesun, dyed in death. Demons of another faith pulled themselves into being through the sacrifice of a village and the prior assassination of the maiden-child that once consecrated it. Though we slew that wretched being once, her own aberrant nature allowed her to supplant reality with fantasy, and she found it fitting to wrench out my heart.” He tapped his thumb against his chest. The heart beat healthily now, and there wasn’t even a scar left from when a hand pierced it. “Alas, delusions fade swift in the face of divine might, and demon was banished, reality restored by the unification of goddess and mortal.”

He cracked a smile, then bid Corsair to kneel lower. They had arrived now, at the Dragontail, a mountainous heap of scrap metal and ruined architecture, memories of a golden era smashed by calamity’s descent. Sparks of magitech energy popped here and there, whilst Sentries plodded along the ridgeline of rust. There were openings present to slip into the interior though, provided one took care not to run themselves through upon the jutting railings and piping.

“As for my true death though,” he said. “It came from drinking an unlabelled potion within the hut of a witch. We were all fools back then, risking death for the mirage of a discovery. I doubt you would be so unwise as to do the same.”

 

[Corsair]

Demons. Assassination. Unification of goddess and mortal. This was the fantasy that Corsair had been missing. Her home base of Honeyhome was tragically devoid of any big-ticket drama. Bandits, goblins, and wolves seemed cheap fare when compared to the life of a deity hanging in the balance. "...Which goddess?" she asked, starting as usual from the basics. "I have never even heard talk of a pantheon, let alone a physical form."

Corsair looked up along the ridge as she considered Cain's tale. She saw the gaping cavern embedded in the waves of scrap and steel, along which prowled the ruddy lights of the sentries. It was an entrance to the body of the beast. "It would depend on the situation," she answered, eyes tracking the movements of the robots as they patrolled the area. "Death in a video game seems a cheap price to pay, but what did you pay for? What did you gain from the potion? Were you simply curious? In which case yes I consider it unwise. I am no cat, and I look for tangible benefit from my dangerous actions."

She pressed a few buttons on the back of Dell and silently wished the creature goodbye as it rolled away through the wreckage towards a distraction spot far from their location. "What is the cost of death?" she asked again. Dell's death might be meaningless, or it might be worth the lives of herself and Cain. There was no way to know until the moment when everything approached the knife edge. No way to know if you'd done enough to warrant more than just blackness.

"If the cost of death is merely time, then I would spend that life gladly if I received more time in return." She thought over the words as she said them, unsure if they were illogical or merely paradoxical. "Do you see what I am saying? They say you spend money to make money, and that time is money itself. This is never truer than in research, where every second saved now could be worth a lifetime later."

Dell buried itself in the trash at the base of some scrap wave a few hundred feet away. Far enough to offer a keen distraction, but near enough that she could still signal it if they might be seen.

"If I die. Willingly. It will be for something that brings me closer to eternal life."

She looked up at the entrance to the Dragon.

The slice of azure light yawned wide, waiting for her. Beckoning her like the cracked drawer of god's own filing cabinet. It reminder her of the cave of wonders from Aladdin. A maw in the sand protecting the greatest of all powers. Truly the brain was her genie. Her wish-granter. But am I worthy?

She crouched down, metal legs tense and ready to run for the gap. The sentries tracked back and forth, and she pushed down her pondering to focus on the here and now. She steeled herself, and nodded at Cain.

It is impossible to know if I am worthy, and frankly unnecessary. What matters is something more tangible: I am here, and I am willing.

"I am ready."

 

[Cain Darlite]

“There exists the central pantheon that most landers believe in, those of Idna and Syndra, Tyldr and Endra, and then there are outlier beliefs. Some speak of the Mother of Monsters. Others of the Prince Bound in the Stars.” Gods? Or just monsters of another tier? The lines blurred too easily, when power was founded in numbers rather than miracles. “I speak of El and Baal, antithesis deities of virtue and sin. Their worshippers are scattered, moving in subterfuge, but their influence remains in the dark corners of this world, in lands obscure and overlooked.”

He paused for a moment longer though, as Corsair spoke, but in the end, the answer did not deviate from anything that had not been resolved before. Still, there was no reason to skirt around her interrogation for much longer, nor any need to speak of divinity when reality was bereft of them. “The cost of death is life.” Three fingers extended. “The Starcalled are afforded two lives to spend as they wish upon the game. When they expire a third time, they are bound here, and they…pass away in reality.”

Memories still. Following up on forum topics as she tended to her roses. Chatting with Sabine and hearing of the death-messages. Sweeping the grave for a stranger and a friend.

“If eternal life is what you seek, it would be much easier to obtain here than in reality. The craft of doctors and the progression of technology pales still in comparison to magic that can make whole a body that was reduced to ash.” He smiled. Not unkindly, but not warmly either. “I suppose, however, that you seek eternity within textbooks, rather than within an immortality more physical.”

A breath. She was ready, and he was too. The drone was in place, the sentries’ movements had become predictable. All that could be done was done, and the rest was but a gamble.

“Go.”

Sound was already silenced, and soon, darkness washed over them as well, rendering their forms mere silhouettes without identity, the substance of reality drowned out by the fathomless dark beyond the boundaries of the sky. Cain lead the way, striding with a confidence that rested in his magical prowess, and without hesitation, he jammed his flagpole against the gap and forced it wider.

Soundless, still, as he turned, motioning her in first.

It was only right, perhaps, that the one who wished for knowledge be the first to observe it. But what the Gray Maiden descended into was yet unknown.

Spoiler: Feeling Lucky?

Roll a d100. See where it lands and see where you land.

 

[Corsair]

145 / 145

Luck: 4/100

Corsair's eyes gleamed gold, not for greed but for inspection.

She leaned in, surveying the bard's face for traces of lies or some strange test. "That can't be," she said, dismissing the morbid idea out of hand. Yet something about Cain's words and tenor told her that he wasn't playing with her. Manipulating, maybe, but why would he lie about something like this?

She backed off, nodding in understanding. "Two lives then." That was what was important. What Cain said changed little. If they stole away with the brain, or even a part, then everything would be worth it. It didn't matter if the price of knowledge was higher, it was still well within her capacity. Having only two lives to spare didn't mean they weren't still spare.

Corsair looked across the stretch of open ground, to where the gap in the dragon's plating shone, a welcome passage into the unknown.

She licked her lips. Unconscious. More a force of habit than a biological need.

"I'd pay a life to master this science. Or for a piece of the unknown. This changes nothing for me. I seek eternity in whatever form it will have me. Here, out there, in this body or another. I am playing for time. For function over form."

As the red beams moved away from the entrance, they stole across the broken ground, careful feet slipping between sheets of metal and crunching stones, a landscape of betrayal for two seeking only silence and secrets.

A sentry turned back towards them, looping in its route, and Corsair let out a sharp, high-pitched whistle to activate Dell. The little beetle warped and warbled in its hiding spot, and the sentries spun, swarming the hapless decoy and melting through the concrete and metal sheet it hid beneath.

But something else rose from the wreckage, and crimson gave way to cruel cyan. A giant tripod, its head a spinning sphere of smooth blue lines. The sentries had been fooled, but now the regulator was awake, and searching for a target.

❰ 6 / 6 ❱

DC 90 | 50 Retal

 

[Cain Darlite]

130 / 170

A Regulator, here in the Dragontail? Cain let out a bark, a laugh, at the sheer coincidence of it all. Misfortune, that they would emerge here of all places; a frontline held by a single support. Fortune, that they were in such proximity with each other; no fear of being bombarded by armor-piercing beams from an impossible range. Overall, the coin had been flipped, and had landed perfectly on its side.

“Corsair!” He had said he could manage one Regulator, so he would do so. Would be easier with a single DPS to assist, but Cain’ll make it work. “Into the gap!”

And with a clenched hand, a plunge into the taboo, Cain encased all three of them in a shroud of darkness, whispers of tortured histories sycophantically swaying with the shadows, before it gained mass, gravity. Metals rent in silence as the quadrupedal cannon buckled against the pull of the planet, before the ground gave way first, plunging them all into the steel corridors of the Dragontail. Isolation was the first necessity: he could not kill such a construct fast enough to prevent its beams from catching the attention of others above the surface. Here though?

The Battle-Banner unfurled, the astral weave dancing in the one-way road before them. Stars shone bright, cannon-light shone brighter, both giving a fluorescent glow once more to the lifeless halls.

The scene had changed, and the struggle was afoot. Now, there could only be one question: how fated were their stars?

Rolls

Counter
1d100 (82) + 25 + 20 + 20 = 147
147 damage
Counter successful! 20 damage added. Take 10 less damage
Astramancy | Cain Darlite | 358

❰ 5 / 6 ❱

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