Lost Loot of Lornius

[SirArtemis]

The air tasted of salt and fish. Calm water stretched in every direction as far as the horizon. A trio of dolphins danced beside our ship as it cut through endless blue toward Lornius. The scene openly contradicted the roiling waves of my temper flaring within, actively buried while we sailed on. I’d never been to Lornius, and truthfully hadn’t heard much but rumors of its floating city; at that point, it didn't really matter.

I stood starboard, leaning against the rail and letting the late afternoon sun kiss my face before saying goodnight. There were few sights and scenes in life that could bring a man like me peace; the sun setting over a tranquil ocean was one. Standing with the sea mist splashing against my skin, I almost forgot why I was there.

“You’re sure you have everything?” the woman beside me asked. To be truthful, she was more of a mountain than a woman. I was of average height for a man but she towered over me by two or three heads. Her name was Antiope and she belonged to the Sorie Trading Guild. “We're less than a day away and once there, you're on your own.” She adjusted an adamantite bracelet– one of a few pieces of simple jewelry she wore made of the metal I desperately sought.

“I imagine there’s only so much preparation one can make for such a journey,” I admitted. I ran a hand through my short brown hair before giving a scratch at the scruff on my face. “You’ve told me all that is likely to help. Once inside it will be a completely different set of challenges.”

She nodded back to me. She was so tall that she almost sat against the rail of the ship, which made me worry it would buckle under her weight and the whole crew would have to hoist her back up. She crossed her arms while playing with a coin with one hand, letting it dance between her knuckles. The image of a snake with various distinct heads glimmered in the fading light – the symbol of her guild.

“Thanks for all this,” she added politely. “I imagine it sounds a bit mad, but given the situation, it seems the best deal.”

I grunted at her comment. She didn't deserve my rudeness and brevity, but I found it difficult to suppress my anger. I knew full well that I was likely being taken advantage of, but the enmity I felt wasn't for her; it went much deeper than an imbalanced trade deal. I still needed adamantite and the guild could get it for me. It wasn’t exactly a commodity these days. I had a project in mind and it would take time and effort, and what point is there in starting something if you can’t expect to finish it? “It is the deal after all. I don’t think any of us know exactly what I’m getting myself into here, or if I’ll survive. At the end of the day, I will either succeed or fail. I’ll let the gray area in between solve itself.”

She nodded slowly, not denying a word of what I’d said. “A deal's a deal. If you need anything else, I’ll be in the cabin. Come morning we'll split and hopefully meet again, for both our sakes.”

I gave her a curt nod in return before she turned and left. Many things seem to have gone awry of late, and with another war looming over the land I was certainly none too happy. Then again, when was war not coming? It seemed a silly notion. There’s always a war; some people just don't realize.

[SirArtemis]

Come morning the sun had vanished, replaced by rolling clouds of angry rain. The ship had dropped me half a mile from shore in a tiny rowboat, and so I rowed. A cold ocean breeze rolled past as the rain pelted me with fury. The bottom of the small vessel began to fill with water but I didn’t care. It would suffice for the short trip I needed to make. Drops trickled down my face from my matted hair, but all I could think about was the simmering rage within, like a forge being stoked ceaselessly. It had been there for weeks now, unwilling to leave me alone. Every moment felt like a struggle, every heartbeat strained.

I hadn’t been this furious since I ran out on my father thinking he’d been involved in the death of my mother. Though it turned out to be a misunderstanding, the emotion before that realization felt palpable, like I could hold it in my hands. I released the muscles in my jaw, realizing they'd been clenched for some time now, but relaxed it felt even more uncomfortable.

’Artemis,' I heard whispered in my thoughts. It was the voice of Judicis, the sentient presence of an artifact I wore. His words felt strangely distant. ’None of this is your fault.’

I knew what he was trying to do, but it didn’t matter to be honest. Blame didn’t matter anymore. Who cared whose fault it was when the result was the same? I had a responsibility now and that was what mattered to me. I had seen enough and lost enough in my life, wanting nothing more than to retire to a quiet life with my friends and loved ones. I wanted a peaceful life away from the fractured rippling that comes from millions of living beings’ ideas colliding across the globe. People didn’t understand the simple concepts of compassion and peace. Nobody cared about the consequences of their words or actions; they only cared about being right.

Funny thing about being wrong though is that it feels exactly like being right, doesn’t it?

Fools.

So I rowed in the rain toward an island whose dark energy I could feel tickling my back more than the rain itself. Lornius was not a place of idealism and utopia. Lornius was the place that reminded a person with every waking breath that greed and selfishness pervaded this world as easily as a weed through a farmer’s garden. With each motion I pulled myself closer to this sinister place, seeking an item that mattered to me only because of what I could receive in exchange. The water felt thick as I sliced into it with both oars, dragging them along while the reluctant ocean resisted my passage. It felt good to find an outlet after so much time aboard Antiope's ship; the resistance only urged me on.

I knew I was made for this. My skills, my inherent abilities, my personality, my equipment and tools – they all made me a silent yet deadly scout. All the while nobody would even know I’d been here. I would come and go as quickly as the storm that rolled across the sky above.

A crack of lightning lit up the scene, the silhouette of the ship drifting off toward the horizon and flashed before me as the thunder rushed across the waves. They would soon be back in a port somewhere, drinking and whoring to their hearts' content while Antiope returned to her responsibilities with the trading guild. They would enjoy whatever moments their days would bring. In a way I wished I could return to my own simpler past, before I’d become this strong, but I knew that such a life wasn’t possible. Clearly they didn’t realize that for themselves.

Fools.

[SirArtemis]

All I had been told by Antiope regarding my task was that on this island I’d find an entrance to a dwarven workshop, long lost and forgotten by the people of Lornius. The entrance would be hidden and the way in may be locked. Once inside, my task lay with finding any designs and schematics that I came across, though they wanted me to find one in particular - something called an engine. There would be no way of knowing if this island was the correct one, but all the research they’d invested in pointed here.

Despite its proximity to Lyridia, the large port city and former capital of Lornius, the small crescent isle lacked any sign of human activity. Admittedly that fact didn’t seem all that strange, as Lornius was not exactly a tourist destination. There were hundreds of small land masses that comprised the archipelago. I’d rowed into the bosom of the island, pulling my small boat up the shore and into some brush where it would remain hidden as a precaution. The island itself covered roughly four square kilometers in land. Though it didn’t seem like much, I knew that to be misleading.

The first hour passed quickly enough, as I sought the high ground of a rocky cliff and took stock of my surroundings. The land itself was uneven, covered in countless jutting stones and hills with trees protuding in every direction, like the spines of a sea urchin. Tree trunks grasped desperately into the loose soil, though many had apparently failed as their weight tore them from the ground. I stood beside a small oak at the peak and noticed its roots wove through the rocky cliff. I pressed my boot against the wood which groaned angrily before tearing free from its home. It roared defiantly before tumbling down the rocky face with a clatter. Many others lay sprawled across the land from the passing storms. Wildlife barely appeared aside from skittering critters like rabbits, squirrels, and a single small fox. I felt like I had stumbled upon a messy child’s bedroom.

With the layout of the land in mind, I began my search. The magic in my boots helped me effectively scale the many uneven surfaces, while my enhanced vision scanned endlessly for any detail that might seem unnatural. My endurance prevented fatigue despite the effort required to traverse the uncooperative landscape. The waves splashing against the shore sounded like the steady breathing of a sleeping giant, but the higher I climbed the more fitful the wind became, as though the strange and rocky landscape upset it.

Along the way I found a small cave, noting its location so I could rest later in the evening. I wouldn’t need much, as my body didn’t need food or water to sustain it, and just two hours of sleep would be enough to feel completely rested. The weather also meant little to me, as the fabric I wore beneath my armor protected me from fluctuations of the natural elements. No matter the climate, I would be comfortable.

The land remained pristine in a way little else on Althanas could. No old paths marred the surface, however overgrown they would have been. I saw no ruined remains of homes or structures, nor any sign of tools or weapon. As far as I could tell, this little island was the wrong place; no one had ever been here before.

As I continued to explore I found myself blocked by tangles of brush, or some of the many fallen trees covering something that appeared promising. When needed, I used my enchanted daggers to slice away the obstacles with as much effort as it takes for a baker to slice a warm loaf of bread. Though the work consumed plenty of time, it was by no means exhausting.

Antiope’s words were no understatement; this work fit me perfectly and there was no denying it. The patience I’d developed working a forge for much of my life gave me a methodical approach. Just as I would inspect my crafts after completion, I inspected each piece of the island.

Judicis’ voice remained quiet throughout the day, replaced by the steady breath of the ocean wind and the natural sounds of wildlife. Dozens of birdsongs filled the air like a symphony, wings carrying them from one island to the next in their meandering journey for food. I worked under the comforting radiance of daylight, my mind beginning to clear alongside the skies above. The anger started to cool within me, like a glowing blade dunked in a bath. I just needed more time, or at least I hoped that’d be enough.

After the sun set, the symphony of birdsongs transformed into an orchestra of night-crawlers. I took some time to double back over the areas I felt less than sure about, utilizing my dark-vision to see the landscape in another spectrum. Still I found nothing, and eventually trekked my way back to the cave entrance a few hours before the sun would rise.

I nestled up against a round curve of the small cave’s wall and set down the campfire cube that Steppenwolf Orlouge had crafted for me all those years ago, when I’d still been new to the chilly winds of Salvar. I flipped open the cube’s smaller twin, which served as the switch, and pressed the tiny button on the trinket. The large square unfurled and spiraled open, then lit with blue and green flame.

Staring into the dancing blaze, I felt immensely grateful for the chemicals that added the distinct color. I’d seen too much of the world burn in the fires of citrine and coral. Buildings turned to charcoal and ash, like the lives of those that once filled them. The cleansing burn wiped away all in its wake indiscriminately, except the memories of the witnesses.

I let my eyes focus on the mesmerizing display, hoping to drift off into a brief sleep. In just a couple hours I’d begin my hunt anew, scouring the island for its secrets. I didn’t anticipate it to take long to find what was hidden among the nooks and crannies of this island, but as I had already noted, four square kilometers is more than it seems.

[SirArtemis]

Day after day I searched, accompanied only by my musings. Even this isolated island held reminders of things I’d rather not dwell on.

I'd gone over the island a handful of times, retracing my steps with no more luck than the first. Two weeks passed and I'd still found no signs of a workshop. Discouragement took hold, along with thoughts that this was likely the wrong island after all. Maybe this was all a waste of time. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be good for me or the trading guild. After all, if they didn’t get what they wanted, neither did I.

I sat on one of the cliff sides late in the evening, watching the water fill and empty the bowl of the crescent. The breeze rolled gently and warmly across the surface with, as though nothing in the world could possibly be wrong. I didn’t bother with my dark vision and instead watched in the normal spectrum, as the water danced with reflections of the bright moon. It was truly beautiful, even more so because of the floating city off in the distance. It glowed like a man-made star in the heavens - a marvelous testament to dwarven engineering. I couldn’t help but envy the craftsmen responsible for such an incredible piece of design and execution.

Meanwhile, my mind was consumed by memories of blood. I’d taken a petal from a flower, rubbing it between my fingers, remembering the trail of blossoms we’d followed while tracking Azza through the battlefield, hoping to stop calamity. We didn’t. We only left more blood on the battlefield; smooth, slippery blood covered my hands, feeling much like this flower petal that I couldn’t stop rolling between my fingers. Despite the overpowering smell of salty ocean, the metallic smell of blood-stained battlefield haunted me, making me believe what couldn’t be.

Things were changing all across Althanas and beyond. From my time on that island of Se’lutia, it had become abundantly clear that naiveté had run through my veins for too long. War loomed over every horizon, as though no matter which direction you looked, the land was one sleight away from mass graves and burning flesh. I rubbed my face roughly with my free hand, the calloused skin scratching pleasantly against my scruffy beard.

“Who am I to think I can do anything to change that?”

The stars were remarkable in the sky, as dense as I’d seen them on the mountaintops of Fallien. Another beautiful sight to behold, and each night I’d spent on this small island allowed me the pleasure of basking under their grandeur. It seemed likely that out there, somewhere far beyond anything I’d ever be able to reach, they too waged wars and battles needlessly. If only somewhere on Althanas all that would be set aside, so people could find a safe place to call home.

As my attention drifted back down to the water, my eyes caught a strange flicker of light that seemed out of place. I hadn’t noticed it before, but as my gaze traced the cliff side it flashed again, just beneath the surface. I focused my enhanced vision on the glint, and recognized the familiar reflection of metal.

’That’s strange.’ I climbed down easily and approached the light, taking advantage of my growing familiarity with the island. Once close enough I jumped in, not worrying about my armor and weapons. Switching to my dark vision, I dove beneath the surface, opening my eyes to the stinging blur of saltwater.

’This looks like a door, or a gate maybe. An underwater gate?’ I swam a bit deeper, looking for the glimmer I’d first seen. My blurry vision cleared just enough for me to make out metal inlay in the stone. There were words written in dwarven script that read “Be Warned.” Much of the metal had been covered with algae at this point, which explained why only a small bit of it had picked up enough moonlight to stand out. I had gotten lucky.

I rose above the water for a moment to catch my breath. Relief washed over me at the realization that, at the very least, this hadn’t been a total waste of time. This was the right place. I just needed to figure out how to get in. After a brief respite and another deep breath I submerged once more, swimming deeper and exploring beneath the writing. There seemed to be a massive portcullis of stone. The masonry looked sturdy, unaffected by time and with no way for me to break it down.

I resigned myself to this small victory and swam back to shore, returning to the alcove. I decided I’d sleep for now and wait for the sunrise. Come morning, I’d be able to make some progress again.

[SirArtemis]

I waited until late morning when the sun fully illuminated the portcullis. Swimming down again with bright light to support my search, I found what looked like a sigil to the side of the entryway. I rubbed away as much of the algae as I could. Given the size of the insignia, it was relatively easy to determine the shapes. Surprisingly, the markings looked rather familiar. The design showed a hammer striking an anvil, laid upon the backdrop of a large flame; it was the same symbol that was on the ring I wore, which had been a gift from the Norlond brothers – dwarves. The only difference was that this hammer struck the anvil from the left, whereas the image I had grown familiar with struck from the right. I swam up and reached for the handle of the hammer, guessing that correcting the image may do something. I pushed the handle up, turning it forcefully like the hand of a clock so it pivoted at the mallot-end of the tool, until a resounding click caused the rumble of the portcullis.

The gate began to drag upward, and the handle of the hammer slowly returned to its original position. A school of fish rushed past me, their scales glimmering in the morning sun as they fled the gateway in fear. The long-closed entrance eased up to grant me access, and I swam in, grateful for the magic in my body that made breathing unnecessary. Twenty meters in, I was able to break the surface of the water and enter a chamber that glowed blue-white from enclosed sconces lining the walls. The light almost multiplied in the enclosed chamber as moisture reflected the fluorescence.

I climbed out of the salty water onto what looked like a small dock made of fine stone and metalwork. It was easy to see it was the handiwork of skilled craftsmen. All these years and time hadn’t done a damn thing to wear away at this talented touch. I glanced down at my ring, making a note to talk to Bazzak and Nalin about their family history when I found a moment.

The water rolled off my armor and undersuit, their repellent nature leaving me comfortably dry and thankful for that fact. I gave my hair a quick rub and wiped my face, then glanced over the sharp edge that I’d scaled to exit the water. I could see the remaining portion of the dock submerged nearly two meters beneath the surface. Off in the distance, the rumble of the portcullis closing rippled through the water and filled the small chamber. Perhaps this island had sunk a bit during the last couple centuries. Strangely the air did not feel stale, which felt even more confusing.

Up ahead a single doorway of metal, with a large face carved into it, blocked my path. As I approached, the face came to life, eyes blinking and lips smacking like coming out of a drunken haze.

“Ahhh, how long has it been?” the face asked. “Everything feels so sticky.”

I raised an eyebrow at the spectacle. It was certainly strange, but after the things I'd seen my wizardly friend Daros do, little surprised me. “I’m really not sure,” I answered, glancing about to gauge the state of my surroundings. “Based on the water levels and tides, the algae growth levels, and my general intuition, there’s a good chance you haven’t been woken in centuries.”

“Aye, it certainly feels so. And who might you be? What brings you to this place?”

“I seek schematics. Designs. The work of the dwarves that have long since abandoned this place.”

“Not abandoned,” the face replied, “fled.”

“Fled from what?”

“The corruption.”

“Corruption?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “I never heard of such corruption. What can you tell me?”

“You are a member of the clan, are you not? How do you not know your own history?”

“A member of the clan? What?” Then I remembered – the ring. It wasn’t just ornamental. It stored magic within, and when the seal that locked away my inherent magical ability broke, I absorbed a good deal of the magical properties of my enchanted items worn at the time. I imagine the ring’s magic seeped into me, and so part of me belonged to the lost Dwarven clan of Lornius. The Norlond brothers . . . so many questions.

“It has been many centuries since the last dwarves were here. There are clansmen that have survived. But they do not share the story of any corruption. Would you share what you know?”

“Ah, perhaps it is gone,” the face said, closing its eyes momentarily as though in concentration. “Now that I am awake, it feels faint within. I sense you are strong. I shall grant you access. You will find the results of the corruption within. Take care inside. You will find your answers. Perhaps it is time the clan returns.”

With that, the door opened, allowing me inside. I just shook my head, walking through the doorway and worrying about asking questions later. For now, all that mattered was that I’d found a way in.

[SirArtemis]

I hesitated while entering the main chamber, unsure what to make of the entryway of this long lost workshop. More sconces lined the walls, some broken, their source of light exposed. Tiny crystals grew upon mushrooms, emitting a both natural and unnatural blue-white glow – almost cyan. I approached the wall, running my hand along the smooth stone. My fingers traced the intricate workmanship. Even the basic architecture of the building exemplified the dwarven mentality.

‘This place feels . . . like something isn’t right,’ Judicis warned, but I too had sensed the same. My intuition had roared as soon as I’d stepped through the door.

“The air feels thick. Like the taint of some tragedy lingers,” I said softly. The workshop’s halls were lined with metalwork, some appearing purely ornamental and others integral to the structure of the place. I had seen something similar in the past, like veins running through a building, but those were of the lost civilization’s outpost. It seemed unlikely that the dwarves of Lornius had any relation.

The large space was what one might expect of an entryway. A reception area and counter greeted visitors and incoming goods, where they’d be processed before moving onward. As I walked around the desk, the room ended in a multitude of hallways branching out with signs and arrows guiding the way. The language seemed like a dialect of Dwarvish, but I couldn’t make it out.

“Initus Bazzak Nordlond,” I said aloud, activating the conveyance obsidian I wore as an earring. The magic reached across Althanas, contacting the dwarf and letting him know I requested audience to speak with him. I stood before the many hallways, trying to make out what familiar symbols I could of the script.

“Artie, lad, how are you?” Bazzak’s voice resonated in my mind, a telepathic link bridged by the trinket.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I set my hands on hips as I activated the second layer of magic, offering the dwarf the chance to see through my eyes. A few seconds passed while he found a place to sit down and as the link connected I heard his gasp.

“Artie . . . where in Althanas . . . I’ve not seen writing like that since before a single hair sprouted on me chin.”

“I’m in a workshop, I think of your clan, on some island on the archipelago of Lornius. The symbol on the ring you gave me was on the gate outside.” Silence permeated the large chamber for many seconds – a silence that I had likely broken after hundreds of years. Bazzak did not – could not – say a word as he viewed a lost piece of his heritage through his human friend’s eyes.

“Artie, I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed. Lost me da in a workshop like that. That ring ye have is his.”

“That explains why the door let me in,” I answered quietly, looking down at the old ring. “I’m sorry to ask this of you Bazzak. I don't mean to be insensitive, but I’m looking for where they’d keep their schematics and blueprints. Can you lend a hand?”

Again silence. All I could hear was the gentle whistle of air as it drifted throughout the workshop. I almost felt guilty for thrusting this upon my friend so suddenly, especially if he’d lost his father. Loss wasn’t something anyone wants to really remember.

“I can try, lad.” I could tell how quiet his voice had become, so drastically different from the tone he’d answered the call with. “Let's see. Looks like the left path leads to the dormitories . . . I think. I can't make out the next one, but then it's the workshop, generator, and archive. I imagine you need the archive or workshop.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry again for the insensitivity. We should talk more when I get home and I’ll tell you all about what I find, if you’d like.” I waited a moment to hear his goodbye, but after a few quiet moments I felt the magic disconnect. “Terminus,” I said quietly, officially closing the magical link.

I shook my head, frustrated with myself at not taking into consideration the potential emotional impact reaching out to Bazzak could have. Suddenly I was hit by the realization that I didn't know as much as I thought about my mentor. I had never even bothered to ask him of his own upbringing and past. With a heavy sigh, I walked forward, rounding the corner and turning into the hallway marked as the archive.

The Norlond brothers had helped me through so much. They'd welcomed me when I'd just arrived in Knife's Edge, taking me on as an apprentice. They'd entrusted me with their father's ring, and I never even knew. It never even occurred to me that his past was even more tragic than I had thought my own to be. How many years had gone by? How many opportunities had passed me by?

Yet I continued to neglect my friends and care only about my own needs. At the very least, with Bazzak's help, perhaps things would be a bit easier for me now that I'd found a way again; and at the very least, I owed quite an apology to Bazzak and Nalin Norlond.

[SirArtemis]

Soon after starting down the hall to the archive, the disrepair of hundreds of years showed itself. The stonework in the smaller passageway succumbed to erosion and fracturing, allowing stray weeds to reach in. Insects had made the workshop their home and small critters and rodents scurried to-and-fro.

“It’s strange how immaculate the main chamber looks in comparison to these halls,” I said softly. Despite knowing Judicis could hear my thoughts, I preferred speaking them; it made conversation feel more natural with the sentient artifact.

’It seems to add to the mystery,’ he agreed. ’It appears as though something unexpected damaged the hallway.’

“That’s what worries me.” I walked on, the hallway turning a few times with small reading rooms along the way, most disheveled or simply empty. The further I went, the more vegetation invaded the long abandoned workshop. Chips of stone crunched beneath my steps as the deterioration became more like destruction, until the long walk finally ended with an impasse. The entire hallway had collapsed, blocking the path completely.

“Of course,” I sighed, reaching for some of the rubble. I began to pick up stones and toss them aside, wondering how thick the blockage might be. Dirt from the island above had fallen between the cracks, obscuring any view I might have across the way to use my shadow-walker ability and step past. “I’ll have to turn back for now,” I mumbled, heading back toward the main chamber. While walking back I noticed something in a reading room that I hadn’t seen the first time: a boot on the ground.

I paused, cautiously entering the small enclave and looking around the corner. A dwarven skeleton sat propped against the wall, missing a boot. A decayed book lay open beside him. “That’s disconcerting,” I said quietly, squatting to get a closer look. “It’s like he was in the middle of something and just died. But . . . why are his bones black? They don't seem charred . . . I’ve not seen that before.”

’I agree in that it’s unnatural. I’ve only seen such things when dark magic is involved.’ I could sense Judicis’ concern, his implications clear.

I reached out, turning some of the pages of the book and then flipping the cover to see if there was a title. It seemed more a notebook than anything, but there was no text to be read; time had taken its toll. I shook my head, leaving the body behind and turning back. I returned to the main chamber more cautiously than I had left it, quieting my movement and giving the silence the attention it deserved. Whatever secret past had caused this corruption that the door had mentioned, I wouldn’t let it jeopardize my life. Perhaps there were dangers still walking these halls that I did not know.

[SirArtemis]

The path to the workshop was in similar disrepair, also progressively deteriorating with every step. I moved more cautiously, thoroughly checking each side room and communicating with Judicis with direct thought rather than speaking, as I’d preferred. In place of reading rooms, these halls were filled with supply closets. Cabinets and lockers and other receptacles of various types and sizes filled each one. Many of the materials within I couldn’t begin to place or understand. Darkened bones littered the ground, leaving a trail of clues to moments just before so many lives ended.

The blue-white glow of the endless sconces reflected against the metallic pipes that ran through the entire complex like veins of a massive beast. Once again I found myself thinking back on the outpost I’d explored of the lost civilization, its lines of glowing mithril illuminating the way. For a fleeting moment, my mind drifted to the cloaking artifact I’d found there, and my dream to one day use it to create a small town - a haven of safety where people could live and not be found by the cries of war.

Would I ever succeed in creating a peaceful place to call home, where people could live without fear or anxiety of tomorrow? A prosperous utopia – how naïve of me to think such a place could exist in this world. I shook off the thought, reminding myself to focus on the task at hand.

Many of the pipes ended within the closets, plugged into some of the receptacles. Other thicker ones continued along my path toward the large workshop at the end. Thankfully nothing blocked my path, and my silent steps brought me to an unexpectedly enormous chamber.

The pipes here thickened and raced along the walls and roof, lining at least a dozen pillars that held up the high ceiling. The room split into two tiers, with a set of stairs running down the middle to the lower level. Large racks of metallic trays furnished the chamber, with stone tables set upon cogs of brass that could be moved along tracks throughout the area.

Chandeliers hung low like massive versions of the sconces in the complex, emitting enough light to fill the space. Tools lined the walls, some left on tables, along with pieces of chemistry equipment. As I walked in and stood over the edge, overlooking the lower level, I could see more of the familiar black bones of dwarves below; countless lives ended as they worked, thinking that day to be just like any other. Glass shards littered the floor along with various metal parts from unfinished projects.

’What the hell happened here?’ The unnatural remains of the Norlond brothers’ ancestors left me unsettled. Urns, chests, and pots littered the room, most made of brass, others of clay or stone. Metal scales encased much of the stone, while the exposed remains displayed intricate and decorative etchings. Despite the functional purpose of this space, they had taken great care in building it.

However, that had not stopped whatever event had occurred from making a mess of things. Immense cracks spread throughout the room. Some of the ceiling had fractured drastically, creating such large crevices that sunlight managed to creep into the chamber. ’I imagine that explains the fresh air . . . or at least somewhat explains. That can’t be the entire story. But how the hell did I miss that when searching?’

I made my way around the room quietly, my boots silencing my steps. I also knew to avoid touching the bones of the fallen. Whatever had caused that could not be good. I took my time to explore the room, as patiently as I had the world above. Every chest was opened, every urn and pot looked into and checked, and every shelf scoured. The gentle whistle of the breeze squeezing through the cracks above became the tune to my search.

Nothing.

“Damn it,” I said quietly under my breath. I turned back, moving up the steps to the top tier to search that level as well. As I climbed the stairs, a figure approached through the hallway. When it caught sight of me, it stopped suddenly, recoiling as though in shock. I continued up to the top of the stairs while the figure didn't move. No more than a dozen paces ahead, the warped and mutated dwarf stood, with skin as black as coal and covered in bulbous protrusions. Seeing my approach, it turned and ran.

“This can’t be good,” I mumbled.

[SirArtemis]

Life had taught me many harsh lessons. One of those was never allow your decisions to be based solely on first impressions. However grotesque this creature appeared, my eyes could tell me more than most. As the target turned to flee, I activated the ability Graxis had gifted me. My irises changed, shifting from their typical ice-blue to a dark gold.

As the figure fled, my vision showed me something I had never witnessed before. Most living beings could not be considered entirely good nor entirely evil; most fell somewhere in the middle – a gray area. I’d sometimes sit on high vantage points in bustling markets and cities and watch the crowds, just to observe what lived in the core of these commoners. I’d normally see a sea of gray, with a general hint of goodness giving a touch of blue to the bodies. On few occasions, the gray would be more hidden beneath a hue of crimson instead.

Running down the hall, back toward the main chamber, was a creature of blue-gray, yet ribbons of crimson swirled and danced across his shape. A being could not be both good and evil – they would simply then be balanced, and gray. It was as though two entities lived within one.

“This just keeps getting more and more interesting.” I started off toward the fleeing creature, intrigued. “Do you think it can speak?” I asked Judicis, curious of his thoughts.

’It is difficult to say, though likely there is cognitive activity. Perhaps you can reason with it, and bring it into my world. There, I can at least help it communicate. If there is in fact a dwarf beneath it all, then there is hope.’

I cautiously followed the illuminated hallway back to the main chamber, yet again finding myself in the enormous stone reception area. I glanced around, seeing if there were any signs of the figure or where it’d gone. Thankfully, the once-dwarf was more interested in fleeing than hiding. A line in the gravel showed where the figure had turned sharply, sliding and off balance, before turning down the hallway toward the generator.

“Do you think there are more of them? Maybe it ran back to gather its allies?”

’Truthfully, given its behavior, it seems far more likely that creature has been in isolation for quite some time.’

“Let’s hope so. I’d rather avoid any more death,” I said with a sigh, beginning down the hall. Seeing the strange creature that fled reminded me once more of the lives that had been lost here, turning the workshop into a silent underground tomb.

As expected, the passage appeared much the same as the others I’d already explored. Metalwork and light fixtures decorated the stonework. The incessant creeping of nature snaked into fractured surfaces. However, soon thereafter the path split, with one containing long wide steps that descended gradually deeper underground. Curiosity led me downward. No alcoves lined the hall as it wound on itself, going deeper and deeper. The damaged stone became more present, with partial collapses making the path quite narrow at times.

A more profound silence engulfed this area of the workshop. Whatever critters had crept along the higher level, none dared come down this far. It seemed as though they knew something that I did not. I’d guessed that the figure had not followed this path, but since it didn’t seem the creature would be escaping, I didn’t mind a detour. I continued down the steps, returning to a more cautious approach and silencing my movement.

I descended nearly thirty meters before the ground finally leveled off. A short hallway led toward another large chamber, this one almost entirely made of metalwork with pipes and tubes running in every direction. It felt like I had reached the center of a spider’s web. However, everything was severely damaged.

The sconces that once illuminated this room were destroyed or dimmed, with the crystallized fungi almost entirely absent. Large portions of the pipes had been bent and broken, as though by some enormous explosion. However, there still were no traditional burn marks scarring the area as one might expect from such an event. At the far wall I saw something of a socket, though empty. As I approached, a crunching scrape beneath my feet drew my attention to the many shards of broken glass. I squatted down to pick one up, using my free hand to channel fire for light.

Wisps of the flame drifted off my hand and into the crystal I held, causing the dull material to glow a dim orange. “Wait, I’ve seen this stuff before.” I held the crystal up and placed the fire behind it, looking through the shard as it absorbed my magic. It was a nearly translucent orange shard. “This is magicyte, the same stuff those magical guns used on the mountainside by Alerar.” I stopped the flow of magic and stared at the dim orange light, like holding a lump of coal as it lost its heat.

As I stood, distracted by the unexpected find, something tackled me from behind, dragging me to the ground.

[SirArtemis]

As I hit the ground my body slid on the countless magicyte shards. I heard the word ’No’ over and over. I turned to see what had struck me only to find the once-dwarf that I’d thought had gone the other way. As soon as he tackled me, he had slapped at the hand that had held the magicyte, causing the shard to fall.

“No! No!” the creature said with a hoarse voice. It was likely this once-dwarf hadn’t uttered a word since the corruption arrived. I stood up and the creature just shook its head no, pointing at the shards on the ground. It shifted its weight from foot to foot nervously.

“Touch this,” I said, extending the arm where Judicis currently took the form of a bracer. I pointed to the artifact as I spoke. The creature hesitated, then again shook its head no. “Just trust me. Whatever it is you want to say, whatever you want me to know, if you touch this, I’ll understand.” Again the creature hesitated. Perhaps seeing that my weapons remained sheathed gave it some reassurance; I couldn’t say. I knew full well that I must have looked absolutely mad, especially to such an isolated being. The first thing I’d said to it was ‘touch this’ after all. I nodded again, hoping the gesture would give the creature confidence. For whatever reason, it seemed appeased enough to reach out and place a hand upon the bracer.

Once contact was made, I felt my consciousness tugged by Judicis, knowing it would take me to the spirit realm of the artifact. A moment later, I stood in a small study with a lush burgundy rug, enclosed by bookcases along each wall. Standing before me, forming a triangle with me at the head, were two men. The first was the familiar form of Judicis. In his realm, he took on the appearance of a well-groomed elderly man in an immaculate suit of black. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked upon the third, unfamiliar visitor.

A dwarf, appearing quite normal, looked around in surprise. His thick dark-orange hair and beard whipped around as he took in his surroundings. “Where am I? Where’s the durned door?!” He turned in place as he spoke in a thick dwarvish accent. His gaze rose, and he seemed to realize that there was no ceiling in this room – just an endless black void. “What . . . ?”

“Welcome, dwarf. Be at ease, you are safe. Please, have a seat,” Judicis said as he gestured to the three plush armchairs set by a small fireplace. “Would you like some tea?”

“Oi, who are ye?!” The dwarf bellowed, ignoring the invitation. He ran toward a wall, tearing books down from the shelves urgently, then turned toward Judicis and shook a fist at the well-dressed man. "Lemme outta here!" It was then that his eyes went wide, realizing that the hand he shook looked normal and showed no signs of mutation. “Where . . . ?”

“You are visiting my realm, located within the artifact you touched,” Judicis explained, walking over to one of the armchairs and sitting down. “You are not physically here, but your mind now is, though if you'd truly prefer to leave I am more than willing to let you go. Just know that this is likely the only opportunity you have to tell your story as you'd tell it. The body you are seeing is a projection of how you envision yourself, which reinforces our understanding that you are, in fact, a dwarf beneath your mutations.” He again gestured to a seat, and then reached for a teapot set upon a small mahogany table between the armchairs. He poured a malty amber tea for each guest before taking his own cup and leaning back comfortably. Meanwhile, the books the dwarf had torn down returned to their proper places upon the shelves.

I walked over and joined Judicis, grabbing a cup of tea for myself before plopping down into a comfortable seat of my own. I blew gently to cool the liquid, holding the saucer just beneath the cup as I breathed in the scent of the rich dark brew. “So,” I began between breaths, “what exactly happened here?”