The Enchanter's Journal

[Breaker]

I paused outside the church to catch my breath. It looked run down but well made, without windows due to the high-altitude winds. The thatch roof had a steep incline to a high peek, the emblem of the Ethereal Sway standing proud at the top. My heart rate slowed, and I crept forwards, not wanting to be taken by surprise.

It was clear that Geoff was not waiting to attack me. I passed through a small entryway, noting the thickness of the wooden walls.

"No wonder Tinker chose this place... it's built like a fortress."

Through the entryway I found myself in the hall of worship. Pews lined the floor, some rotted, others standing strong. Dust lay in a thick sheet over everything, almost like the sparse snow outside. Dozens of torches blazed in wall brackets and chandeliers, and by their light I could see a trail of foot prints leading to the altar at the head of the room. Two stone gargoyles flanked the elevated platform whose only decoration was a simple podium. As I watched, Geoff straightened up from behind the podium, a thick leather-bound book in his hands and manic glee in his eyes. He saw me and laughed out loud, a crowing sound that echoed against the church's thick walls.

"You cannot stop me, Cronen! I'm untouchable! The Ethereal Sway has won this war."

His Salvic accent got heavier as he switched to his native language, reading long sentences and taking frantic breaths in between.

"I'm gonna’ leave his carcass here to rot with that book." I thought. I took one step forward. Geoff's voice ceased.

The gargoyles came to life. No grinding of stones or slow awakening. The simply sprang forwards, solid stone moving as though made from flesh and blood. Wings spread, fanged mouths open in soundless screams, they came towards me. I took a step backwards.

"I'll cherish your death for some time Cronen," Geoff said. His laugh echoed again as the gargoyles struck.

[Breaker]

The gargoyles moved seamlessly despite their angular construction, like beasts of flesh rather than stone. They looked like granite versions of the arctic wolf I had killed earlier, with wings attached to their shoulders. Like one being they pounced, stone mouths gaping with never ending hunger. I leapt straight up in the air, watching the two enchanted animals hit the ground where I stood milliseconds before.

"No way can those things fly," I thought.

Wrong.

They changed direction rapidly. Their wings beat the air and propelled them upwards even as my jump peaked and I started to fall. As we met I planted my feet on the broad back of one, springing off and crashing into a rotted pew. My mind raced as I struggled to my feet. My weapons would be useless against creatures made of stone; they needed to be shattered, broken by brute force. I picked up half of the busted pew and hurled it at one of the advancing gargoyles. It stalled the thing momentarily, but the other struck. I managed to catch it by the throat, and then put all of my strength into throwing the demonic statue at Geoff. Its wings caught it halfway there, and together the two came at me once more, one flying directly above the other as it sprinted forwards. They snarled soundlessly, the only noise coming from the paws pounding on the stone floor.

Without thinking I raced to meet them. I jumped into the air, opted to attack the flying beast. As I rose to its level I melded my body into a picture perfect flying side kick, my right foot flexed, ready to make contact heel first. I concentrated carefully, changing the weight of my boot at the moment of impact. My foot went from weighing very little to weighing a hundred pounds, then back again in a heartbeat. In the time its weight increased the solid rythadine boot made contact with the gargoyle's outstretched wing. The stone seemed to explode and the gargoyle crashed to the ground, its flight crippled.

I heard Geoff gasp as I rolled on the ground, then picked up an intact pew as the gargoyles came at me once more.

"Your father is one hell of an inventor!" I called to the hidden thief.

[Breaker]

I used the pew to keep the twin gargoyles at bay, my superhuman strength moving the long wooden bench to knock away first one beast then the other. I panted from exertion, replaying the jump kick in my head. By altering the weight of my boot at the right time, I had turned my leg into a hundred pound sledgehammer. It seemed clear that Tinker's gift would provide my method for defeating the demonic statues. However, I felt my confidence wane; the jump kick had been a fluke, a gut reaction. I wondered silently if I could pull off the split second timing again.

I got my answer soon enough.

The gargoyles grew tired of being repelled by the solid pew. They separated, coming at me from two different directions and angles. The one I had injured pounded across the floor from my right, while the other swooped in from my left. I threw the bench at the flying one, and it performed a quick loop-the-loop to avoid being struck. Its wingless companion got to me first. I guessed that I had two seconds until the running gargoyle reached me, and three before the flying one arrived.. I counted them off silently in my head; timing was everything.

"One."

I started the kick chain. A right inside roundhouse followed by a left crescent. As soon as my left hit the floor it gained weight, anchoring me to the spot. I spun, spotting on my target: the running gargoyle's head.

"Two."

Spinback roundhouse. I swung my right leg high and wide, the black boot racing in a tight arc. An instant before the night-dark boot met with the nightmare creature, and the weight of my foot changed drastically. The centrifugal force stretched my legs hard but my pliable muscles kept me balanced and in control. Enchanted rythadine and solid granite collided like a high speed T-bone crash.

The gargoyle's head shattered.

It was a miracle I wasn't blinded. Shards of rock bounced painfully off of my chest and legs, but I kept moving, ignoring the wrecked gargoyle as it careened into a rotten pew and lay still atop the wreckage.

"Three."

Both my boots returned to weightlessness and I back flipped, rising a swift six feet off the ground. I had felt the rush of air on the back of my neck as the flying gargoyle closed the distance. It struck the patch of floor I vacated even as my boots once more performed their wonderful trick. Suddenly two hundred pounds heavier, my already falling body plummeted like a guillotine. I landed right between the stone beast’s wings, and it crumbled. The legs collapsed from the impact as the torso cracked down the middle and split in half. The thing twitched once, and then lay still.

Breathing hard, I looked to the altar. Geoff stood next to the podium, face slack in astonishment, thick journal wrapped in his arms like a teddy bear.

"Looks like I've won this war," I panted. And then I pounced.

[Breaker]

Although I initiated the attack, Geoff took me by surprise.

I hit him with a perfect double leg takedown. He dropped the book like it was on fire and wrapped both legs around me, his right arm looping a guillotine choke around my neck. It surprised me because no one else I had fought on Althanas knew how to grapple; a takedown in the Citadel or Dajas Pagoda always meant an easy victory. Rather than fight the tackle Geoff embraced it, hitting the ground and cranking my neck. I could feel the blood flow to my brain slowing and oxygen being cut off from my lungs.

“Little bastard, I won’t go down that easy.”

I pushed off the floor with both legs and flipped us over so that he ended up on top of me, but lost the choke hold. I reached up and threaded my arms around one of his shoulders and his neck, pulling him close to attempt a compression arm triangle. He played it smart, hammering a knee onto my solar plexus until I released him. He transitioned smoothly from one position to the next, pivoting ninety degrees and sprawling on his back, both legs covering my chest. He caught my wrist and pinned it to his chest then arched his back, going for an arm bar.

“No dice pal. Try this one out.”

I walked my feet around until I lay on the same line as him and waited. He heaved on my arm, trying to break it, but he had no leverage. I used the momentum to back-somersault between his legs and kick him in the head. Like a true fighter he grabbed the foot that hit him, twisting my ankle cruelly and rolling for a knee bar. I kicked him in the head with my other leg to loosen his grip then draped the leg he had been holding across his neck and over one shoulder. My other leg connected to it outside his shoulder, pulling down, creating a triangle around his neck. I squeezed the triangle tighter and watched as Geoff’s eyes bulged. His face turned red and he weakened; there was no blood flow between his brain and body. Then I noticed his free hand inching its way to my belt, fingertips closing around my bayonet. With a furious burst of energy I broke the triangle and kicked Geoff in the chest with both boots, sending him sprawling across the dais.

We got to our feet simultaneously, me breathing hard, him breathing harder.

“You’re good,” I panted, “but not good enough. Not by a long shot. Give up now and I won’t break your damn neck.”
“You’re a weak fool,” he managed to sneer despite almost hyperventilating, “I’ve only reached the Third Tier of the Mountain and I’m a match for you. A First Tier, or even a Second would kill you with ease.”

“Tiers of the Mountain? What the hell is he talking about?” I wondered. I speculated that it could be some sort of fighting program, based on his skills, but filed the information away to follow up on later.

“You’re no match for me,” I growled, circling to get between him and the journal, “I’ve still got more than enough left for you after killing those two hell hounds you summon--”

He moved towards the journal and I fell for it, jumping to cut him off. He changed direction and ran for the door. I bounded after him, whipped out my bayonet and threw overhand.

Thunk.

The blue dagger embedded itself in the door, having missed its mark by inches. I raced after him once more, tugging my blade free as I passed the threshold.

Outside the sun blinded me, reflecting harshly off the ice and snow. I shielded my eyes and scanned the area. What I saw made me kick the ground. My boot left a sizable dent in the rock.

“Perfect... I’m just in time to watch the bastard escape.”

Geoff leapt from a cliff face, arms spread wide. The wind seemed to treat him as its own kin and he swooped earthwards rapidly, fading from sight. I walked to the spot where he had jumped and crouched down to catch my breath. The mountain breeze that welcomed the thief so lovingly tried to tug me into nothingness, and I instinctively increased the weight of the Breaker Boots, rooting me to the spot.

“One thing’s for sure,” I thought ruefully, “I’m sure as hell not jumping after him this time.”

[Breaker]

I returned to the church and collected the shattered boards from the rotten benches I had destroyed. They made an unceremonious pile of worm-eaten wood in the middle of the altar, but they would serve a purpose. Before long I had a decent sized fire going. A fire in a wooden building may not have been the best idea, but the mountain winds outside would have made kindling one impossible.

The fire shed a warming light that washed away the sweat and fatigue of battle. I stared into the dancing heat, my mind in turmoil. The enchanter's journal lay next to me, firmly closed. I had glanced over a few pages, but couldn't read anything; Tinker had written his notes in Salvic.

I poked the fire with my foot and thought hard about the stone gargoyles. I had no delusions about my fighting ability. I knew that without the Breaker Boots I would have been killed. I also knew that very few people wielded the kind of physical power I did. The enchantment Geoff used to bring the gargoyles to life had presumably been the first decent offensive spell he found. I figured if Geoff or anyone else that could read Salvic had time to study the text extensively, they could produce stronger enchantments. I considered myself lucky that there were only two gargoyles in the church. In my mind's eye I saw an army of stone statues descending upon Lord Volipril's manor before making their way to higher figures of authority. I shivered and moved closer to the fire. My mind conjured beasts much worse than the gargoyles, monsters even more dangerous and destructive. Geoff had taken the key to the church with him. It was no longer a safe place for the journal.

My mind made up, I hefted the leather bound volume in one large hand, then looked again into the tantalizing flames. I felt almost as if I could see images forming then vanishing in the hypnotic heat. Nothing but manifestations of my overactive imagination, but the fire-figures gave shape to my own predictions of the future. They only reinforced my previous conclusion. I knew what I had to do.

I would make sure no force of evil could use the enchanter's journal, ever again.

[Breaker]

The trip down the mountain chilled me to the bone. After the fire-warmed interior of the church and the adrenaline charged battle, I found myself shivering against the unforgiving frigid rock. The fur jacket Tinker had given me bore so many tears and rips that I looked like a tiger, with black stripes of my shirt underneath showing through the parted fur. This bared me to the vicious wind, which tore through me like cold steel. My arms ached and I used the Breaker Boots more and more, until I was almost sliding down the mountain.

When I reached Tinker's cabin it began to snow. Large fat flakes that fluttered on the wind, flying around before settling on the ground. They looked incredibly white against the grey frost and dark rock. I staggered through the soft curtain of snow and opened the door to the cabin, silently stepping inside.

I paused and listened, not breathing. I concentrated hard and caught the distant sound of slow, steady breathing with a slight snore. Tinker, asleep in another room. With stealth borne from years of field work I crept to the closet that was really a staircase and eased the door open. Wraithlike I padded down the stairs, the Breaker Boots not betraying me with even the slightest sound. Once in the laboratory I headed to a distant corner filled with musty dust. It didn't look as though Tinker had been to that section of his workshop in years. I lifted my shirt and took the enchanter's journal from where I had strapped it against my body. As silently as possible I shifted a pile of junk, wedged the leather bound book up against the wall, then returned the mismatched items on top of it. I returned to the staircase, obliterating the footprints I had left behind in the dust. I could think of no safer place for the journal than in Tinker's own basement, especially since he wouldn't know it was there.

I reversed my previous route and made it outside, then closed the door and began pounding on it with my fist, hard enough to make the whole house shake.

"Tinker! Let me in, it's Breaker!"

[Breaker]

"I had to destroy the book. Your son escaped with the key, so I couldn't lock it up away."

I found myself again seated on Tinker's sofa, the tableau identical right down to the teacups we each held. The only difference from the first time I sat there was the state of my wardrobe. The hermit had roused swiftly from his slumber, letting me in while muttering about breaking the door down. I waited until the steaming cup of tea arrived before delivering the bad, albeit fake news.

The old man nodded sorrowfully, sipping his drink.

"I knew it would come to that, eventually," he said, a mournful expression haunting his eyes, "but it was difficult for me to part with my enchantments. You understand? I could no more have burned that book than I could kill Geoff, as much as I hate what that boy has become. As horrible as it must make me seem, I'm glad he escaped, even with the key."

I nodded, staring into my cup. The steam had a hypnotic quality to it, swirling ever upwards in a tiny inverted cyclone. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. It seemed like ages before the tea was finished and we said our goodbyes. Tinker thanked me profusely, wringing my hand in both of his. I shrugged the praise off a little awkwardly.

"I'm glad to have helped, Tinker. Besides, I'm the one that needs to thank you. These boots saved my life more than once today. I think I'm going to find them very useful. Keep inventing, old man."

I closed the door behind me, stepping over the remains of the arctic wolf carcass I had left there not so long ago. The snow had formed a thin layer on the ground and it crunched between my boots and the dark rock. As I made my way across the wind blasted mountain an odd thought mingled with the haze in my tired mind.

"I never thought a crappy armoire in the middle of the wilderness could look so welcoming."

[Breaker]

The journey through the enchanted armoire was pleasant, mainly because it ended in the warm confines of Volipril's chambers. Seeing the Lord's king sized bed made me realize I could barely stand from exhaustion. I stumbled through the door into his study and found twelve pairs of eyes staring at me. Volipril sat at the head of a long table surrounded by lordlings and ladies with less power than he. I wondered for a moment why they all looked on the point of fleeing, then remembered the state of my clothes.

"Ugh... I must look like a wild man that's come to kill them all. Oh well, these damn people need to have more fear in their lives."

I trudged my way to the door. Volipril caught up with me halfway there, clearly wanting to know what had happened.

"Later," I muttered, "We'll talk later. I need to sleep."

I staggered down two flights of stairs, feeling like I was on an escalator going the wrong way. At last I found the right floor and moved down the hall, trailing one hand against the wall for balance. I tried two locked doors before finding mine. It was locked too. I groaned, realizing I had left my key in Giselle's apartment. It had probably been on purpose at the time, to give me a reason to go back. Instead I punched the door just hard enough to break the lock and half-fell into the room. Visiting Giselle would have to wait until I had a little more energy.

I made it to the bed and collapsed face down, still wearing the tattered furs Tinker had given me. I couldn't be certain if I fell asleep before or after my head hit the pillow, but I was dead to the world an instant later, the Breaker Boots light on my feet.

[Breaker]

Epilogue

Lord Volipril paced the length of his study. In one direction he got a fine view of the distant mountain through frosted windows. In the other he found himself staring at several masterwork tapestries. He preferred the mountain, for it reflected his furious thoughts. What had happened in the abandoned church? Presumably Joshua had been successful-- otherwise he wouldn't have returned. But to what degree had he been successful? Volipril was tempted to rouse the man, but did not. Joshua had looked half dead when he emerged from the armoire-- best not to disturb a bear in hibernation.

"Volipril, my old friend!"

A familiar voice hailed him from the room that linked his private chambers to the study. He spun around, delight on his face.

"Tinker! It's good to see you."

The two old friends embraced. Volipril wanted nothing more than to crack a bottle of dwarf spirits and reminisce about the days of old, but Tinker clearly had something on his mind. The hermit seldom left his lonely abode, except for when in dire need.

"What's the matter Tinker? Spit it out now, you know I know you never come down from that blasted mountain unless you need something." The alchemist nodded an affirmative, catching his breath before letting out a long speech.

"Breaker, err, Cronen. Josh! The young lad that saved my journal. Oh yes, he stopped Geoff and destroyed the book, we haven't the need to worry about that anymore. But I need his help... he's the best around, and it's a matter of extreme importance. I'll pay whatever he asks."

Volipril was taken aback. Tinker had never been the giving type, and had become something of a miser in his old age. The Lord grabbed his friend by an elbow and pulled him into the hallway.

"Right, he's two floors down, follow me. We'll wake him if we have to. Now in the meantime, tell me everything."

~~~

Awake.

I crawled from my bed, tearing off the already ripped furs. The made a messy pile in the centre of the room, but I resolved to clean it up later. I was starving; tea with Tinker seemed to have happened about a year before. I left the room and made it to the end of the hall before someone grabbed my arm and yanked me into a broom closet.

"I missed you last night. Where were you?"

"Giselle."

I responded by hoisting the blonde off her feet and pressing her against the wall, my lips finding hers in a tight embrace.

"Not nearly as much as I missed you. I spent the day in much worse company, believe me."

We leaned against the solid oak wall together, lost in each other's passion. Then I heard voices coming down the stairs. I would have ignored them, but they surprised me; Volipril and Tinker.

"... of course, I'll send a squad of my own personal guards. They should reach her in time--" Volipril was saying, but the hermit cut him off.
"That's not good enough! It needs to be Breaker. She doesn't like guards, she'll refuse their help. Besides, Geoff is smart enough to get around any bumbling security fool. We need to send Cronen with all speed. That boy has got the smarts as well as the power; he'll gain her trust and protect her properly."

I re-immersed myself in Giselle's tangled hair. Whatever it was, it could wait a few hours. Then I heard Volipril's voice, thick with worry.

"Of course, here's his door. We'll send him with whatever assistance he wants, Tinker. After all, she's your daughter."

The memory of the soft-eyed girl in the portrait over Tinker's mantle filled my head. The old man couldn't stand the thought of his son dying, despite Geoff's horrible intentions. I didn't want to think what he would do if anything happened to his daughter.

"I have to go," I whispered in Giselle's ear, then kissed her hard and left the closet.

Tinker saw me step out of the closet while Volipril was busy pounding on my bedroom door.

"Volipril, you old fool! His room is over there, see he just came out."
"No, that's a... Josh, what were you doing in the broom closet?"

Our eyes met, and I saw the question disappear. I moved towards them confidently, taking Tinker's panicky complexion in stride.

"All right Tinker... tell me about your daughter."

Spoils:

The Breaker Boots. These are a pair of masterwork boots crafted from the new alloy rythadine. To the untrained eye they look like a standard pair of black leather boots, but closer inspection shows they are fastened by metal clasps rather than laces. They also bear several enchantments, put in place by the alchemist Tinker Rythadine. Due to the nature of rythadine, these spells cannot be disenchanted, obstructed or removed. For all practical purposes, they are physical properties of the boots.
Enchantment 1: The Breaker Boots form a telepathic link with whoever is wearing them. With a mere thought, the wearer can adjust the weight of each boot from 0-100 pounds.
Enchantment 2: Using the same telepathic link, the wearer may adjust the levels and kinds of friction on the soles of the Breaker Boots. This extends from simply making the boots slipperier than ice to them generating enough static friction for the wearer to walk upside down on a ceiling.
Enchantment 3: Purely for the comfort of the wearer, the padded leather interior of the boots is enchanted to mould to the wearer’s foot, in addition to an elemental charm that keeps the wearer’s feet at a comfortable temperature at all times.

[Call me J]

Well Alex, I really hope that you build on what you’ve started here. You’ve laid the foundations for something that could be a much better story in the long run.

Continuity- 7. For a long time, my biggest thought reading this thread was “how in the world does this relate to the FQ?” Eventually, I found out, and you did tie in the fact there was a civil war into your earlier posts. This comment isn’t necessarily one of the issue of continuity in and of itself, as much of an issue of leading with your best stuff.
Setting- 8. I really liked the way that setting included accents and language for you. People ignore that far too often.
Pacing- 5. This could have been a much better story if you stripped it down. If you needed to introduce Giselle for a later quest, I suppose she had her function here, but otherwise, she was vestigial.
Dialogue-7. This actually gets at many other categories, but I’m putting it in dialogue just because I need a place to put it. When you have long conversations between two people, you can’t ignore necessary details about persona, internal monologue and non-verbal communication that should be factoring in to the conversation. Most conversations that are detailed in stories are important conversations. Let the reader know how they effect Josh.
Action- 7. Josh’s jump from the third story of a building was a bit much, especially because I didn’t see anything in your profile that would have made me think that kind of a jump was doable for him. I would have accepted it if you had made him land in something soft, but hard frozen ground and nothing more than a bit of stinging in the legs? I couldn’t find anything in your profile that suggested that would be legitimate.
Persona- 6. My big problem here was that I kept getting conflicting views of where Josh’s moral compass pointed. I’m not sure if you’re trying to play him as a highly impulsive character whose morals are transitory, or if you really haven’t thought about that issue all that much. If it’s the former, make that clearer, if it’s the latter, think about it more. Also, the treatment of all secondary characters was perfunctory.
Mechanics- 9. You seem to occasionally have a problem with complex sentences. I think this happens because sometimes when you write, you’re just trying to get your ideas out and you don’t always catch how they sound on paper. If you feel a bit like you need to strengthen yourself here, read this.
Technique- 5. I’m taking some points away because I feel that you really forshadowed things that weren’t there, especially with Giselle. I kept feeling like there was going to be some kind of “swerve” with her later in the thread, and I was disappointed not to see it.
Clarity- 8. The points you lose are for a lack of brevity. Part of being clear is giving the right information.
Wild Card- 7. You’re a good writer, but it seems at the moment, quests are not your strengths. This wasn’t a bad thread, but the story and planning elements of this thread are what really hurt it.

Total= 69

EXP and GP
016573 receives 2240*2= 4480 EXP and the Breaker boots. I felt they were a slightly more expensive spoil than I was willing to give for this thread, so I have awarded you with no GP to compensate for this.