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Chapter Twenty Five: What Lies Beneath.
🕑 Added 2024-06-19 16:33:25 +0000 UTCChapter Twenty Five: What Lies Beneath.
I was given directions to the nearest sewer access point and was eager to get my first payday in centuries. As the wealthy know wealth begets wealth and I owned a number of businesses in life which provided more than enough income to maintain my experiments.
As I strode through the throngs of groggy city folk I tried again to use Wind Domain but was again overwhelmed by sensation. Eventually I was able to stabilise a domain a hair's width above my Illusionary Skin which had so quickly become a habit. It wasn't much but with constant diligence I knew I could grow the spell.
Walking through the city was a daymare, a goodly number of the buildings were twisted or disfigured in some way making navigation all the more difficult. At first I had attributed this to poor building standards however on closer inspection it was evident that this the work of out of control magic. The main clue was a bakery that inexplicably grew wings and took flight. I was starting to see why people had so much dislike for magic folk. Woden’s was clearly no help in this regard, grewing mana pools and overconfidence in spell theory was as much a problem in this world as it was my old apparently.
Before long I came to the entrance I was searching for: in a hidden alley, where one wall had seemingly been turned into a liquid and splashed in a wave against the other. Leaving a tunnel about half my height leading to the sewer entrance. The wave was at an angle so when I came to the metal gate I was able to stand straight. To the left of the gate was a gargoyle, its twin presumably incarcerated in stone.
“Good sir, if I am not mistaken, you are new to these sewers are you not?” The imp-shaped gargoyle asked, adjusting his spectacles. I was rather surprised, but in retroscope it was rather in keeping with the city's aesthetic.
“I am, golem?” I asked, studying the organic spell structure within the creature.
“Yes I am a golem but I would prefer you call me Ravin, Anyhow I am obliged to warn you that there are many dangers awaiting you below. Not least of which is the rambent ratechin population. The tunnels beneath Wiccawich are many and varied. They merged together over time and have created something that is almost alive and it doesn’t like people leaving.” Ravin espoused. As the two foot creature spoke moved in close, poking and prodigy whilst I studied the working. To his credit he didn’t so much as flinch at my intrusive actions. The spell had, at one time, made a simple golem that might carry thighs or work simple tasks. Except the caster had been sloppy, Ravin was unable to move as he was cemented to the ground and as such wouldn’t be useful for such work. Fortunately for the golem the spell shape was full of holes and all types of ambient mana had, over time, worked its way into the shape and distorted it forming an organic, inorganic life form. In that way he was much like a magical beast, parts of him could undoubtedly be used as spell components.
“Ht hmm, would you like to know how you might leave the labyrinthine tunnels once your work is done?” Ravin asked, appearing uncomfortable under my hungry stare.
“What was that… oh yes if you please.” I answered, dismissing the notion from my mind. I may be a Lich but I wasn’t evil, besides Dante would be furious if he found out. But what he didn’t know…
“The tunnels both do and don’t move. If you know where you are, you can’t be lost, if you don’t then you are. The sewers have numbers written on the walls every hundred paces or so, this entrance is between 345 and 346, so long as you keep in mind which numbers you have passed and follow that on the way there and back you won’t get lost. If you misremember then the tunnels will change to suit your wrongful assumption and before you know it you won’t know where you are. Some of the older tunnels don’t have this system so I advise you to steer clean. Oh and whatever you do if you see a path leading lower, do not take it - whatever you do.” Ravin ended in a tone mothers use on children everywhere. Throughout I had nodded along distantly as I thought about how to bring up the topic.
“Might I ask something of you, Ravin.” I asked. The stone imp stopped for a second, not expecting follow up questions, but gestured for me to go ahead.
“Might I take a part of you.” I said bluntly.
“I beg your pardon?” The civilised construct asked incredulously.
“Only a small part mind, say a finger or toe, purely for academic purposes you understand.” I elaborated earnestly.
“Are you quite mad?” Ravin retorted, his hands on his hips.
“There has been some debate on the subject.” I allowed, “But I am just curious. I would like to study a sample of you and determine its magical effects.”
“Absolutely not, now get lost before I call the guard.” Ravin replied.
I only shrugged, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I heard the gargoyle golem mutter something under his breath as I entered but what it was I couldn’t say.
☠
I was lost. There had been one instruction. Keep track of the numbers. And yet as soon as I found a blue glowing lichen growing with trace amounts of enhancement mana I had become distracted. On the pulse side my knapsack now contained samples of a rather intriguing moss. Another ratechin come out in front of me; unable to see in the dark, they seemed to find me by my smell. The dog sized rodent lunged, circular mouth open and eager to naw on my bones. I sliced it in half with my sword. I had tried using the crossbow I had also gained from looting the fort but the string snapped on its first shot and I was forced to throw it from myself. It had landed in the river of sewage that flowed in a groove in the centre of the tunnel and from then on had been lost. It was always time to practise my magic but there was something nostalgic about trying my hands at half remembered sword forms from a bygone age.
That was the twenty fifth ratechin that had rushed me without thought and some of the rust was starting to shake off my technique, I still wouldn’t be able to match a real swordsman but I shouldn’t embarrass myself. Ravin was right, the tunnels were almost alive. Whenever I thought I knew which number I’d just passed when I turned back, that would be the number, I had somehow made it from 345 to 27, likely having misread a sign. I bent down and cut off the ratechin’s left ear as proof before continuing into the darkness.
I was in the middle of harvesting more sewer moss when something caught my proverbial eye, beneath a layer of lichen lay the likeness of a lustrous lycanthrope laying languidly in its lair. Ordinarily I might have thought nothing of the carving except that my Life Sense could see the moss growing under the creature's left fang. Curious, I pressed on the area and the creature's eyes, which had been closed, snapped open. One was a light green, made from some kind of naturally occurring mana gem. The other was a similar object except brown. I hadn’t sensed them as the eyelids acted as a mana insulator but now they were giving off interfering waves of wind and earth mana respectively creating a dissonance.
Acting on a whim I touched the green gem lightly with Wind Breath, it lit up brightly and the waves of wind mana started to overpower the earth mana. A rumbling insured and from next to the mural the wall shook and a nine foot blocky humanoid tore itself free. The spell work which had gone into its construction was hidden from my eyes by an outer layer similar to the werewolf's eyelids; that wouldn’t do, not at all.
It swung an oversized fist clumsily and I ducked it without much effort. I darted in, sword swing and clanked it against its torso in a cut that would have disembowelled a normal nine foot human but simply clanked against metal clad stone. I side stepped another blow as I examined the injury, as I had thought the coating was simple lead, perfect for blocking mana signals. My sword was chipped but the lead was already begging to peel. I worked in and out, each time peeling away more lead, each time damaging my sword further. My technique sharpened as my sword dulled and, before I knew it, the majority of its chest was now visible to my magical eye.
Unlike with Ravin the spell work was robust and hadn’t morphed over time. Earth mana was running a clear and rigid pattern creating its own internal mana system. Golems worked similarly as I knew them except every node would have to be an earth attuned spell component making them very costly. This example didn’t even have a core mana alone was sufficient to get it to work.
As we danced I withdrew my notebook and sketched the spell shape, taking careful note of all the positions. This creature may be powerful but it was laughably slow, it did appear to have scared off any lurking ratechin however.
Once I fully comprehended the structure I was able to identify weaknesses and possible improvements. I jammed an earth mana infused Bone Claw into one such weakness, my sword long since ruined. It wasn’t able to penetrate far but it was enough, the monster locked solid, turned back to regular stone for at least a minute.
Working quickly and carefully I etched the mana pathways into the opposite stone wall, with my improvements. I flooded the structure with earth mana, making sure to shape the spell correctly. The spell took hold and started sucking in earth mana from the ground on its own, just in time. I had been distracted and hadn’t noticed the original golem had reanimated. Bones bounced around the tunnel scattered in all directions. It took me nearly a minute to rearticulate.
Congratulations:
Bone Articulation has reached Lv.12
You have learned Earth Golem: Expert
During that minute I was once again summoned to my old tower, where I frantically performed tests on a dozen different golem designs, in this mental space where mana and money were no object. Before I knew it my consciousness had wonce again been summoned to the land of the unliving.
I was greeted to the thunderous booms of a golem slug fest. Both were heavily damaged and rock was strewn across the tunnel floor, mine however seemed to be pulling ahead. I had given it a slight edge in speed and he was using that to his full extent. Devastating strikes were turned into glazing blows and crushing kicks never landed. Even so it was a close thing and I thought I ought to give my creation a hand.
Using a partial Earth Golem spell on a fresh patch of stone I created a stone hand, only about the size of my own. Overcharging the creature with Earth mana I sent it scurrying at my foe. The enemy shot a straight right at my golem, missing only by inches. A counter strike was sent out but the first golem raised its left arm in defence. Just then my hand spider made it to its target and detonated, right on one of the weaknesses. The golem’s defensive arm shot up uncontrollably, shattering off chunks from the sealing. A destructive counter was landed and my golem seeded the opportunity and bore the other to the ground raining blow after blow. I cheered him on as rocks turned to pebbles turned to dust. It felt like being back in the coliseum, watching the fights spurred on by the energy of the crowd. When my creation rose, I had it raise its arms in victory before undoing the enchantment; I couldn’t leave something like that lying around.
Clinic The wind mana gem fell to the ground, free of its setting. I made sure to scoop it up before it rolled into the river of sewage.
“Time for round two.” I thought as I turned to the earth mana stone. Flooding it with earth mana I expected another tunnel shaking awakening but instead a finger sized circle of stone fell from the wall. I looked into the hole that was revealed and was struck in the skull by a sudden gust of wind and as a result it was separated from my body. From the hole emerged a wind elemental, made of nothing but air, and it seemed angry. It wailed, the sound of wind through an endless dessert. Slicing at my body with a windblade had little effect, I ran my body clumsily over to my head and reached it. My cloth armour remained intact under the onslaught which surprised me as it had no magical reinforcement. Slices that landed on my bones had no effect save from knocking me back slightly.
Seizing the opportunity for what it was, I expanded my Wind Domain rapidly. I was constantly overwhelmed with sensation and it was impossible to determine where I ended and the wind began. Controlling what I thought to be my body through an upside down hazy projection that changed with every second I made my way over to the wind spirits soul. It was a thing of innocent emotion and without the wind under its command it was scared. I layed a deadly claw atop the shivering ball and willed a soothing feeling into it through Soul Manipulation. At first it was skittish like a newborn foul but with a calm and constant tone it finally calmed. I released Wind Domain and reeled back, disoriented.
The wind spirit, again incortol of the air, used it to engulf me. For a second I thought I had been too soft but my fears were confounded. It was using the wind not to harm but as a sort of embrace. When it was released I was scrapped clean of dirt and grime and felt refreshed. I had thought once the spirit was free it would leave but to my surprise it zipped around my ankles like an excited puppy.
If it wished to stick around that's fine, it might prove a useful test subject. Its energy wasn’t endearing; it proved it could withstand a number of experiments. That's why there was a smile on my face, not that there wasn’t always.
Another Clink and another gem collected. Looking back up at the carving the werewolf blinked, its eyes replaced with stone, and stood; growling menacingly. After she had made her disposition clear she stalked back into her cave and out of sight. The lair proceeded to spit in two revealing a passage.
I entered without a second thought and the opening closed behind me. I found myself in a short hallway with glowstones that came to life after a moment. There was nothing here but a wooden door at the far end so I ventured forth. Opening the door I found myself, of all places, in a study.
The walls were lined with books, sadly rotted by time and eligible. A work bench sat against one wall, inscription talls and magical components strewn about haphazard. Abutting it was a desk on which lay the rotten scraps of notes. This seemed to have been at one time a hidden workshop for some kind of enchanter. I stepped around the room carefully examining what I could. What few papers remained were blown about by the wind spirit and subsequently destroyed.
Mildly disappointed I packed away what I could. There was very little of note, the inscription tools where themself enchanted to cut through stone as if it were clay. They were probably the best find. There was also a fire mana gem and a feather that seemed to the one I had sensed in Wands wand.
I sat in a mouldy arm chair that creeked even under my weight. Lifting a mug from a side table I examined it. It was moulded to the shape of a green man's face but there was nothing special about it. I placed absently back on the table. Smash. Looking the clay mug had shattered and the table was not where I had thought it to be. I went to lay a bony hand on the coffee table, my Illusionary Skin had been released when I had scattered and I hadn’t bothered to put it back up, my hand passed through empty air.
The furniture had scurried aside. I stood and tried to catch it. I missed it again. I proceeded to spend the next few minutes chasing a small table around the room. Vento helped me by corralling the troublesome thing with its wind. Eventually I was able to lay my claws on it and I lifted into the air in triumph, Vento’s emotions reflecting my own as it swished around the room in triumph.
The legs squirmed under my grasp but I held firm. I flipped over and examined its underside, sure enough there was a spell shape engraved into the wood. As best as I could tell it was supposed to move to catch a very specific mug, now that it was smashed it has gone haywire. I carefully scratched a line through the enchantment and let the delicate mix of mana bleed out.
Unlike the Earth Golem this was a much more complex creation making me believe whomever used to work here was a Golemancer. It explained the different mana stones, unlike me they would be a source of a variety of different mana types to create something like that.
I spent the next half hour scouring the room for any other hidden enchantments but to no avail. Tired, I slumped back into an armchair. It collapsed and I was left coughing up dust in a pile of decayed fabric. I seethed for a moment but seeing Vento’s concern I laughed it off.
“I’m fine.” I assured. It couldn't understand the words but the sentiment was enough. I took a moment to relax.
“Will two pounds of gold be enough?” One voice whispered harshly.
“The patriarch authorised three but we keep the difference, so you better convince him.” a second came.
“That shouldn’t be hard, seeing him you’d never think greed was a sin.” The first laughed.
I stepped toward the door but the sound wasn’t coming from that direction. I stepped quietly around the room trying to find the origin of the whispering. Once Vento figured out what we were doing he was most useful, able to detect the vibrations in the air he pointed me towards a bookcase. I used an overpowered Necrotizing Bolt to disintegrate it silently.
On the wall behind it I wound a grate from which the voices could be heard clearly. I gently pried it from the wall, they stopped talking and I froze half way through the act. They resumed conversation and I got back to work.
I revealed a square hole, just bigger than my head, that looked out onto an underground storehouse below. Boxes and crates were stacked to the ceiling in places.
Almost fifty feet below me was a couple of guys gabbing away, seeming to be two perfectly normal humans. My Life Sense told me otherwise, there was no doubt, they were undead.
Just then they stopped there yammering as torch light illuminated from the far end of the room, one elbowed the other and they stood straight ready to receive their guest.
Out from around a corner came a very familiar clergyman replete in finary and accompanied by a pair of guards a step behind.
“You wanted to meet?” The priest asked in a haughty tone.
“Our master has another request for you.” The leader of the two conveyed, skipping straight to business.
“Really?” The extortionist asked, avarice clear in his heart.
“As you know the abbot is a big supporter of Orlando's undead hunts.” the second said.
“Who isn’t, it’s great publicity for the church.” The priest explained in a detached manner.
“We aren't, obviously.” The second snarled but was held back by the first.
“Take this.” The first said, producing a vile of some clear liquid and placing it on a crate that sat between them. “Slip it into his afternoon tea, he won’t taste anything.”
“I’m not poisoning him.” The priest replied firmly, “If he dies I wouldn’t be able to withstand the investigation.”
“It won’t kill him.” The undead assured, “He will just become more… amenable to our requests, no more vampire hunts.” I thought I heard a distant gasp at the last but the others didn’t so I ignored it.
“Ohh, I don’t know.” The holy man began hissing through his teeth. “There would be a lot of risk on my part, I would have to be compensated.” greed gleaming in his eyes.
“Two pounds.” The first said simply, his face unflinching.
“Three.” The priest retorted.
“Two and a half, final offer.” The second said, holding his cool less well.
“Fine.” he conceded after a moment's thought. The first produced a heavy sack, somehow containing the exact right amount from behind the crate. Both parties noted it.
Suddenly another priest emerged from the direction the first had come from. He was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, his skin red with anger and his cheeks glistening with tears, trailing him was a girl of the same age and in the same dress, trying to pull him.
Through tears he shouted, “Iago I trusted you, I thought you the shining example of a priest. But this, plotting to poison the abbot and dealing with vampires. I know that deep down you are still the man I admire, look inside yourself, find the light, and vanquish these undead scum.” The last was said as a plea, one arm outstretched in invitation, the other being yanked back desperately by a scared looking young woman.
The guarded priest raised an eyebrow at his laughing vampire conspirators and said, “Will you take care of them or shall I.”
