Lost Loot of Lornius

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?”

The dwarf stood motionless, still gazing down at his palms as he had throughout Judicis' explanation and my question. He suddenly glanced around with surprising urgency, scurrying about the small study as though looking for something. “A mirror. Do ye have a mirror?” I frowned at the desperation in his tone, realizing the poor fellow hadn’t seen his own visage in ages. If he had, it’d been warped and deformed. Judicis conjured a full-length mirror and left it suspended in the air just an arm’s length from the man. We watched as the dwarf’s eyebrows rose in a mix of anguish and relief. Tears began to stream down his face, quickly lost in his fiery beard. His rough hands cautiously reached for his face, feeling the unfamiliar that had become so lost. He must have felt like he’d come face to face with a long dead memory.

Judicis and I sat patiently, letting the man take a moment to process whatever he’d been going through. After all, we had forced upon him neither an experience that he had not asked for, nor could have been ready for in any capacity. Quiet minutes passed, the two of us sipping tea while the dwarf continued staring into the mirror. Finally he moved away from his reflection, somber steps guiding him to the remaining armchair. He sat down, his feet too short to reach the ground, and I offered him a cup of tea, still hot by the grace of Judicis’ realm. He nodded, adding a polite smile before sitting back and taking a sip.

“I don’t know who ye are, or where I am. Maybe I’m dead. No matter. If ye want to hear me story, I’ll tell ya what I remember o’ that day, so very long ago.” He paused, his gaze lifted to the darkness above. For the first time, in as long as I’ve had Judicis, I witnessed that darkness change. Like a massive projection of the dwarf’s memory, the narration took form like a moving picture on display. “The war raged on. More’n two centuries and Raiaera and Corone still fought o’er the isles. But our work continued. This workshop had become a haven for some o’ the best mechanics and engineers we’d seen in ages.

“We’d designed and built loadin’ systems for cannons used on ships, mechanical clocks for citizens all over, sewin’ machines for our tradesfolk. Our work had been revolutionizin’ life for not just dwarves, but could change life for all Althanas. And it all happened here, tucked under an isle o’ Lornius. And we’d been workin’ on somethin’ amazin’! Somethin’ that could change it all!

“That is . . . before the accident.” His tone changed as he spoke, and the images above shifted abruptly from hopeful and proud to tragic and dark. “It all happened so fast, and I still couldn’t tell ya’ what it was that went wrong. We had e’ry safety in place we could. We all knew the work came first, and took it seriously I tell ya! But somehow, the generator blew.” A flash above showed the brief moment when the dwarf had been struck by an orange and black wave of magic, rushing through him with incredible speed. “Soon as I felt that wave, it all changed. I felt like my insides had been burnt and crushed. I felt dizzy and sick, falling to the ground. My body shook, and I nearly choked to death on me own retchin’. Then I blacked out.” As though right on cue, the images vanished, and we turned to face one another.

“I couldn’t tell ya’ how long I was out. When I woke, e’rythin’ was dark. My body . . .” he paused, looking down at his hands again. “My body looked like it did when ya found me.”

“So you don’t know what caused the explosion, or the strange effects on your body?” I prompted.

“Nay,” he shook his head. “When I woke and started to move around, e’ryone was dead. Their bodies had been cooked up, turned black like mine, but worse. Not sure why I lived, tell ya the truth.” His gaze fell again, a brief pause before adding, “I wish I hadn’t. Shoulda died with me kin.” My brow furrowed, empathizing with the man’s feeling. I had felt similarly many times throughout my life, and knew the thought to be a heavy one.

“I’m sorry for your losses. And please, forgive me, I just realized we didn’t actually introduce ourselves,” I said apologetically. “My name is Artemis Eburi, and this is the sentient being known as Judicis.” I offered my hand to the man in greeting, which he grasped firmly in a rough hand.

“Oi,” he added suspiciously as he rotated my hand, “How’d ye get me ring?”

His question struck me like an ogre’s maul. I could feel my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach, and the sudden implication of his question left me reeling. My mouth fell open as I looked at him more closely and saw the familiarity in his face. The burnt orange hair of the Norlond brothers, from ages long gone, sat across from me. My grip fell weak as my eyes shifted to the ring I wore.

“It was a gift,” I said softly, barely able to make a sound.

“How exactly do you know it to be yours?” Judicis prompted, sensing my distress. “Is that not the mark of your clan? Wouldn’t there be others?”

“Aye, the symbol atop it marks me clan, but we all made small changes as we saw fit for our families. Ye see the design etched on either side o’ the hammer and anvil of me clan?” He released my grip, pointing to the design on the ring. I had never thought much of it. On either side of the clan’s mark, a tankard with an eye in the center had been delicately and intricately engraved. “The Perceptive Tankard is the mark o’ me family, whereas the hammer and anvil marks me clan. I did the work meself and added a teeny gem for the iris o’ each eye, in honor o’ me two boys – a sapphire and an emerald.”

I closed my eyes as my memory drifted back to all the moments I’d spent with Bazzak and Nalin. Bazzak’s blue eyes and Nalin’s green eyes always watched critically as I apprenticed under them. My body tensed at the notion that I now sat in front of a man they long thought dead.

“Their names,” I said softly, barely above the whisper.

“What was that?” the dwarf replied.

“What were their names?”

“Me boys? Ah, Bazzak and Nalin,” he said with a proud smile. I hunched over in my seat, hands holding up my head as the overwhelming truth had finally been spoken plainly. Silent seconds passed as now I processed the moment. Thankfully I had Judicis to step in for me.

“They are friends of Artemis’. He works for them up in Salvar, in Knife’s Edge. They apprenticed him years ago and gifted him this ring to assist in his work. Eventually, he absorbed the magic of the ring due to . . . an interesting turn of events to say the least. Now he wears it more as a memento.” Judicis took a sip of his tea before running his fingers over his goatee. “You must be their father – one long thought dead.”

Everything went quiet for me in that moment, like a wave had crashed over me and dragged me under its current. Thoughts raced through my mind. The memory of my own struggles with my father bubbled up, and the mistake I’d made with my assumptions; how wrong I had been. I imagined how I’d react if I’d known he’d died before I’d reconciled my error. Would I have held any regrets? Would I have died hating him, however unjustified my anger? Would it have mattered?

Now this dwarf sat before me, and if he’d responded or not to Judicis, I would not have heard in that moment. The father of my friends, lost to them since they were my age – which is quite young for a dwarf – was still alive. Yet his existence seemed distant from being truly living, and the likelihood of healing him seemed too far gone. Would they want to know their father lived, tormented all this time, while they lived on assuming him dead? Would they be better off believing him dead and not reopening old wounds? It was just too much to process, and a decision far beyond what I should make alone.

As I regained my bearings, I looked up and saw tears in the dwarf’s eyes once more. He looked at me as though I could be his hope – his legacy. I could only frown, feeling like there was nothing I could do for this man. I felt like I had already let him down, and so many others, as a wave of despair crashed over me once more. The strings of fate and destiny wove an unbelievable fabric of reality; always full of surprises. Past and present sat across from one another, bridged by my presence.

He reached over and placed a hand on my knee. “I’m sorry to ask this of ye, but when ye see them . . . can ye tell them how much I love them?”

My vision blurred as my eyes filled with tears. I swallowed hard and looked at him, realizing how powerless I was yet again, and gave a single nod.

“You still haven’t given us your name,” Judicis added playfully, breaking the tension.

“Dalbur!” the dwarf replied happily, sniffling as he wiped the wetness from his eyes, “but the boys just called me Dal for short.”

“Well Dalbur, you have two fine sons carrying on your name.” Judicis lifted his teacup in a toast with a warm smile.

“Can ye tell me about em? Me boys?”

“What would you like to know?”

A look of peace settled on the dwarf’s face, whereas an overwhelming wave of fury and helplessness struck me once more. The voices of Judicis and Dalbur began to muffle, turning into white noise. The expedition had kept my mind mostly distracted from all the turmoil I’d been sifting through for weeks and months; even with the fleeting musings that sprinkled my thoughts, I’d mostly felt at ease. Now it all came back, as though breaking down the dam that had held it all at bay. I knew, in my core, that I couldn’t help the father of my friends any more than I could help the others I’d lost.

I buried my face in my hands as they shook with emotion. I knew that my anger served as a crutch for all the pain and sadness I refused to allow myself to feel. Yet this dwarf reminded me again of my small existence. He too was a victim, stolen from this world, from my friends, by someone else's whim - someone else's conflict.

First the loss of my mother, then defending a small town from a war on their doorstep as bodies fell one after another. The first woman I’d ever felt strongly for died in my arms that day, and I couldn’t save her, or so many others. Then a vengeful gunslinger left me fleeing for my safety only to end up on the island of Se’Lutia, engulfed by yet more loss as war waged for months, and now another war loomed.

'More death. More tragedy. More blood. It never ends.

Is it worth even trying to intervene? What can one man even do?

Even if I get strong enough . . . even with the adamantite to help make a blade that can cut through anything, including the machines being built by Alerar, will it ever matter? Winning the battle won’t stop the war.

Maybe I can find a way to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Somehow. Maybe not all of them, but some. To help those who simply want to live. To create that haven I dream of.'

“Ye alright, lad?” Dalbur asked, a clear look of concern upon his face as he finally noticed my posture. Judicis on the other hand simply looked over, knowing full well my thoughts and leaving me to process on my own.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry Dalbur, but I can’t stay here much longer. I’m here looking for something, and I need your help. Please.”

“Aye.” the dwarf nodded slowly. “Judicis was just tellin’ me of your mission here. He mentioned schematics and plans and such. All that’s in the archive.”

“I expected that, but the way seemed blocked. Do you know of another way?”

The dwarf shifted in his seat, setting down the teacup he’d been holding in his lap after emptying the strong black tea. “Aye, but I don’t go that way. A large beast lives there, blind and angry and very territorial. If ya really need to, I’ll show ye the way, but ye need to be ready to fight, or be ready to die.”

“Show me the way. Let’s get what we need and leave. Maybe we can even find a way to cure you of this mess after we get out of here.”

Dalbur nodded, determination written all over his face. “Aye.” As the word left his lips, Judicis’ world dematerialized and the deformed dwarf and I stood once more in the long lost workshop beneath Lornius.

Once back in the pipe-filled room, the probable epicenter of this tragic event, I stood face to face with Dalbur in his corrupt form. His visage, and the cold dampness of the air, pulled me back to reality. The comfort and sanctuary of Judicis’ realm immediately became distant, like a dream, and the soothing smell of tea and the warmth of campfire were replaced by death and decay.

Whatever fragment of Dalbur’s mind remained, it seemed enough for the time being to hopefully accomplish my goal and leave this tainted place. He turned around and started for the steps back up. I paused briefly to grab an orange shard of magicyte from the ground, slightly bigger than an egg, and slipped it away into a pocket. If nothing else, I could probably bring it back for further research by Daros. Maybe he could shed more light on the events that happened here. I followed Dalbur up.

We returned to the fork in the path and he led me in the direction I’d yet to explore. He slowed his steps and moved more quietly; the subtle reminder of the danger lurking had not been lost on me. And given the state of the stonework as we progressed, I could understand why.

The walls were cracked to the point where large blocks of stone had fallen from them and the ceiling, blocking most of the way. Thankfully, there remained enough room to maneuver further in. At the end of the hall we came into what looked to be a storage room that had been cleared out. Empty shelves, most broken, lined much of the wall. More cracks in the ceiling and walls left me wondering about the stability of the place. That thought only became more pronounced at the fact that the wall to my right, leading to the archives, had a hole in it big enough to fit a forge or two. More than twice my height, even John Cromwell and his near eight-foot-tall frame would have no trouble plodding down this tunnel, and with room to spare at that.

Dalbur stopped, turning to face me, and pointed down the tunnel. I didn’t need more than that to know my role. “Wait here. I’ll come back for you after I find the plans. The beast won’t even know I passed.” The dwarf plopped down on his rump in reply, his short legs kicking out from under him in one swift motion.

I gave him one final nod before turning toward the opening, and climbed the crumbled stone and dirt that had spilled out onto the room’s floor. The little light from the storage room soon fell away as I crept along the darkness. I shifted my vision to darkvision, turning all I saw into shades of indigo while giving me a crisp view of the pathway as it wound and turned. My boots pressed into the soft dirt, leaving footprints behind as I moved in slow silence. The uneven stone and soil of the walls was covered in scratches and scrapes. Given the size I imagined the beast that made these markings had to be quite large. Nearly thirty meters in and the path split in various directions, with one showing a single massive and deep scratch into the stone.

’The archive is likely more to the right, given where we are.’ I could sense Judicis’ agreement at the thought, but he did not add more; even he felt silence might be the best option.

A rumble began to echo down the tunnel with the scratch, getting louder as though approaching. I didn’t bother to wait, and began to move down the right path as quickly as I could while remaining quiet. Hopefully I could get to the archive and back without issue.

Despite my urgent pace the rumbling approached quickly, and was closing the distance. The creature must have sensed my presence, racing after me. Thankfully the path I’d chosen took me to where I’d hoped, opening up into yet another stone room lit with blue-white light, also filled with dozens of shelves like a library. I switched back to the visible spectrum, immediately noticing how the light bounced off countless tubes of mithril, many of which had fallen to the ground.

“How the hell am I going to find these blueprints?” I mumbled in frustration. I raced to a shelf and started looking at the containers, hoping to see some sort of markings or denotations. However, everything had been written in the same old Dwarvish script that I couldn’t read or recognize. My heart pumped with anxiety as the rumbling continued to grow, like a bomb ready to detonate at any moment.

’Artemis, keep searching! I have Dalbur’s memories. I know what we’re looking for. I’ll tell you when I see it, but you have to look at as many of them as you can!’

I noticed small images were drawn on the tubes as well, on their caps, with notes beneath them. Thankful, I started to quickly glance at each one, realizing full well that I had no clue what an engine even was, or what it might look like, but trusting Judicis.

“Damn it!” I yelled, as I rushed from shelf to shelf and scanned my eyes across all the lids. Precious seconds ticked away. The room rang with the approaching thunder of the beast. The mithril tubes jingled up against one another as the very ground vibrated. Shelf after shelf and I’d heard nothing from Judicis. Just half way through my search, I turned another corner and looked down the enormous hole only to see what looked like a massive boulder barreling down the tunnel.

“Shit!” I yelled, lifting my arm and summoning Judicis into his form as a bow of raw energy. I drew back on the string of magic, conjuring a clear and colorless mist, and letting arrow after arrow fly. As they soared through the air toward the boulder, the mist solidified into crystal arrows as hard as prevalida; they struck their mark, but bounced away as if they were wooden branches I’d thrown in its path. It burst through the portal and into the room, knocking down shelves and scattering tubes. Miraculously, many of the vessels maintained their shape, likely in large part due to the metal itself, and maybe some magic as well.

As it rolled onward and struck the opposing wall with a loud crash, the boulder unfurled into a monstrous and repulsive beast the likes of which I’d never seen before. On hind legs and hunched over, with stone armor covering its back, it moved much like an ape with its front appendages providing support for its bulk. Those front arms boasted plating of rock that turned its hands into two long scythes, and were likely responsible for that large scratch I’d seen in the tunnel.

I saw no eyes, but rather a mouth and an enormous snout sniffing the air. Lengths of filthy and repulsive hair reached down from its torso, dragging along the ground and blacker than coal. The monster shook off its collision, whipping a heavy tail around before turning toward me with hunger. It tucked itself back into a ball, and prepared to roll toward me.

Somehow, it knew where I stood.

The monstrosity barreled toward me, forcing me to dive to the side and narrowly avoid its enormous bulk. It looked like it weighed more than an Eiskalt whale, and would crush me beneath its weight with little trouble. I landed in a tumble, scattering tubes of schematics as I moved. In desperation, I activated my magical cloaking that made me near impossible to see. Though I hadn’t seen any eyes, perhaps it still used sight.

I hurried across the room, also utilizing a sphere of silence to engulf me and anything I touched. No sound would come from near me, making me even harder to detect. I hadn’t seen any ears, but perhaps it still used sound.

Hidden, my eyes scanned the room as quickly as I could, staying focused on the task at hand and counting on Judicis to call out when I saw the correct tube. However, in the seconds I had to search while the beast recovered, I heard the rumbling and banging as its body turned toward me; my precautions were pointless. I rushed away as it leapt forward, massive arms raking the air with fury and hunger. Its stone appendages slammed and crashed, breaking the room apart.

“We don’t have time for this Judicis!” I yelled in my zone of silence. I dropped its power and the invisibility, considering it had little effect.

I scurried away and turned toward the beast, wielding the bow of energy once more and drawing back a crimson arrow. A trio flew forth as they struck the beast with explosions that did little more than irritate the monster. It shrieked in fury, sending spittle flying as my ears rang. It lunged forward once more at me, raking a claw across and then slamming the other down where I’d been. Despite its bulk, the beast’s speed proved too much, forcing me to shadowstep past the monster and toward the wall.

I found myself standing next to a large table that had been set against the wall, plans laid out as though they were in the midst of being used. Two dwarven skeletons lay crumbled and blackened at the edge of the table.

’That’s it!’ Judicis shouted into my thoughts. ’Those are the plans! They were unrolled and in use at the time of the accident!’

I raced to grab the document before the monster rolled over and destroyed my only chance at completing my mission. I glanced back, the lumbering frame of the confused beast waddling as it rotated. I reached for the edges of the parchment, hurrying to release the clamps that held it in place.

’Damn it, there isn’t enough time!’ I scrambled, panic setting in. I could almost feel the claw of the beast about to rake my back and slice me in two. Then a roar echoed to my left as Dalbur rushed into the room. He held a pile of orange magicyte in one arm and threw a shard at a time with his other. It drew the beast’s attention, and explained what the beast used to track me.

I didn’t waste any time, releasing the last of the clamps that held the scroll. I rolled it up as quickly and carefully as I could, and grabbed a tube that lay on the floor beside me. I popped open the lid, dumping its contents, and stuffed the engine schematics into the mithril casing before slamming the lid shut.

“Run Dalbur!” I screamed, but too late. The beast rushed over to him, a massive claw striking him at the side full force and launching him across the room.

“Dalbur!”

The beast roared in fury, flailing wildly over the pile of orange magicyte, as though madness had overtaken the monstrosity.

Without hesitation I shadowstepped over to his body, and with one hand holding the scroll, and the other holding him, I teleported the two of us out of this cursed place, and back to Knife’s Edge.

We landed on the front lawn of Daros’ home, its thousands of grass blades shimmering with tiny magical emeralds that disintegrated when disturbed. I knelt among them, dropping the mithril tube to the ground and holding Dalbur with both hands. An enormous gash across his torso oozed black pus, and his entire body started to melt in my arms. He coughed black blood, and I sensed him fading quickly. He lifted a shaking hand and placed it on Judicis, his final act, as his eyes went blank and his body liquidated in my lap. A rancid miasma dispersed into the air, its wispy silver strands of vapor rising into the air; it looked as though his spirit were leaving his body for the heavens.

Daros rushed out, storming through his front door wearing his trademark blue robe and slippers. “Artemis!” he shouted, fumbling his glasses back onto his face. I knew he had a field around his home, and the moment we entered he’d come running. He brushed messy chestnut hair out of his eyes and raced down the stairs. “Are you alright? Where did the person you came with go?”

I sighed deeply, feeling Dalbur’s essence literally slipping through my fingers. The dark fluid seemed to lash out, alive in its final moments and refusing to die, before finally ending in a pool beneath me. Silent seconds passed as Daros awaited an answer, and I just had no desire to reply. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the orange magicyte and tossing it to the wizard. He clumsily caught the stone as it lit up, tugging on his magical energy.

“Oh boy,” he said, juggling the shard like a hot potato. “You know this stuff is dangerous Artemis. Even from the blue fragment you brought me, this stuff can drain magic pretty easily.”

“Do you have any way to get this black liquid into a container?” I asked, not looking up.

“I . . . suppose so. Like a suction device? Sure, let me go get something.” The wizard shuffled back into his home, vanishing briefly and giving me a moment with my thoughts.

’Artemis, he left a message with me for Bazzak and Nalin.’

“I expected as much,” I said softly, answering Judicis. “I just don’t know what to do with that.” I dropped my hands to my side, letting the events of the afternoon sink in. Do I tell my friends that their father had survived, suffering for nearly two centuries, only for me to find him and bring his body back in this state? If Daros could put these remains into a container, perhaps we could give him some kind of proper burial. I could bring them into Judicis’ realm and show them their father; pass on his final words, before he faded from the wound received while protecting me.

“More death. More tragedy. More blood. It never ends.”

I reached for the mithril tube and stood, glancing up at the evening sky as the sun began to dip over the horizon. The clouds glowed with the last signs of daylight, with golds and purples and pinks all intermingling into such beauty.

“It never gets easier,” I said softly.

“What doesn’t?” Daros asked, returning with some strange contraption in his hands.

“Nothing,” I sighed. “Daros, can you put this dark fluid into a container and put it somewhere safe? I’ll explain later. And if you can, see if you can take a drop and find out what happened. Do some tests on the magicyte as well. Maybe there are traces of energy lingering in the stone. I’ll check in later this evening. I just need some time alone for a bit.”

The wizard nodded, brushing hair from eyes once more, and crouched down with his device. I turned and walked away as the machine whirred into life, trusting Daros to take care with his tasks. I pulled out a small trinket Antiope had given me, to let her know when I’d completed the task, and activated the beacon. Perhaps Daros would have answers for me before my meeting with her that night.

I sat alone at The Bearded Gnome, the inn that I called home. I had sent a message out to Antiope to meet me here, and I knew she had the resources to arrive – especially given the importance of what awaited her. I sat at a table, with the fire still burning in the fireplace. The dimly lit room still smelled of roast potatoes from the evening’s meal. Harki, for once, couldn’t be found behind the bar. Those who had rented a room here were long asleep as the clock soon approached three in the morning. Moonlight spilled through the windows on this clear night, giving the large room an eerie glow.

I sipped at a hot cup of tea, staring down into the golden brown liquid and processing everything that had transpired. Daros had made some preliminary findings and shared them with me before I’d come to the inn. He found traces of necrotic magic within the orange magicyte, as well as in the liquefied remains of Dalbur. It seemed like someone had sabotaged the reactor, overloading the crystal and causing an explosive wave of corrupted magical energy. He even hypothesized that the ensuing liquefaction of the dwarf would have happened with or without his wound; the proximity to the source of necrotic energy likely served as an energy source of sorts, keeping him intact.

Knowing Daros' enthusiasm, the man wouldn’t sleep this night. All the better for me, as I could use a diversion once everything wrapped up with the trading guild. Perhaps he'd find out more about the magicyte, maybe develop a way for me to use its power.

The mithril tube lay on the table in front of me, set between myself and where Antiope would soon be. Its bright white metal, glinting with the gold flames of the fireplace, shone against the earthy browns of the tavern. A dozen thick tables of walnut decorated the space, set upon floorboards and walls of old oak.

Just then, the door to the inn cracked open and Antiope walked in, quietly closing and locking it behind her as she came in. “Artemis. It’s good to see you.” She approached with soft steps – surprisingly so given her enormous frame. Her eyes immediately went to the mithril tube on the table. She came over and sat down on the bench, which I’d set for her expecting that a stool would shatter beneath her bulk. “I take it you found the plans.”

I gestured to the tube as I stood and walked over to the bar where I’d been keeping a cup of coffee hot for her. I brought the mug over to her and set it down, appreciating the hazelnut smell before returning to my seat.

“Thank you,” she added politely, reaching for the cup and blowing on the hot liquid. “So, how did everything go?”

Such a simple question, and one I had been mulling over for hours for my own sake; despite that, I still had no easy answer for her. “Are those the plans you sought?” I asked, lifting the porcelain cup of tea to my lips and taking a sip.

Quietly, she set down her coffee and reached for the tube. She popped open the lid, pulled out the scroll, and unrolled it on the table. Her eyes flickered with excitement, reassuring me that at the very least I had accomplished my goal.

“Yes they are,” she said with a deep inhale. She looked over at me, taking in my expression for a few moments before rolling the scroll back up and putting it into its mithril tube. She adjusted the adamantite bracelet she wore, my eyes staring at the metal that had been the driving force of this entire project. “Well, we made a deal. We’ll send the adamantite you need for your project to the Norlond Forge, along with the materials you’ll need to heat the forge properly to reshape the metal. As agreed.” She reached for the cup, sipping at the coffee for a few seconds before continuing. “Were you able to find any other plans? Perhaps we can . . . add more to the deal.”

I shook my head at the woman. “Most of the plans are probably destroyed at this point, if not all of them. When I left, there were . . . complications. I doubt anything else can be recovered. And quite frankly, I’m not eager to go back and look. And before you ask, no, no one is going to get back into that workshop, I assure you.” I didn’t bother adding any more details. If she wanted to try, she could, and would fail. My part of the job had ended.

Antiope nodded slowly, continuing to sip at her drink quietly for a few moments before standing. She set down a single gold coin, marked with her guild’s symbol. The woman reached for the tube and began to walk over to the exit. I heard the click as she unlocked the door, pulling it open. “Artemis,” she said, drawing my attention away from my tea as I turned toward her. “Thank you. And we owe you. If you ever need anything . . .” she finished by pointing to the coin on the table, then turned and walked out.

A few quiet minutes passed as I stared at the coin, wondering yet again why I bothered with all of this and whether it mattered. Alerar and Raiaera teetered on the brink of war, though most remained blissfully unaware. Soon, the hidden machinations of the powerful would lead to endless death. I couldn’t shake that truth, no matter how much distraction came into my life. Nor could I shake the overwhelming feeling that I couldn’t change a thing about it.

Fate had a way of toying with mortals. My life was no exception. From what I’d encountered, despite my desire to live a peaceful and relaxing life, the Thaynes had other plans. While I’d rather work my forge and be with my loved ones, time and again my growing strength forced me to intervene. I had power, and as it continued to grow, so did the burden of responsibility I felt to use it for good. Maybe it was just chance that kept landing me in the path of tragedy. Though I felt that nothing I did mattered in the grand scheme, my heart compelled me to try.

I had to try.

Eventually, I walked over to the door and locked it. Once I finished my tea, I’d return to Daros. Perhaps he’d have more insight on what happened. For now, I still had half a cup of tea left to decide what to tell the Norlond brothers.

Out of Character:

Spoil Requested: Adamantite Beam Blade Using the adamantite received from the trading guild, as per their agreement, Artemis has reforged the metal into a shortsword. The blade splits from the hilt into two parallel lines of metal before converging back together near the tip. In the hilt of the blade, the orange magicyte has been cut and set, though currently its effect is dormant. Due to its adamantite construction, the weapon is indestructible, with few exceptions. Its blade appears black, coated with a powder of red magicyte that gives the weapon a reddish twinkle in the right light. The red magicyte allows Artemis to channel his magic through the weapon with a boost to its power (details TBD in ROG). On the pommel of the blade, Artemis has added the symbol of the Norlond Family - the tankard with an eye in the enter. He set a bright blue Sapphire in the center of the eye, representing his own. Dormant Ability (due to magicyte not being fully released) - Currently, Daros has not developed an effective way to charge the orange magicyte. However, the wizard speculates that once successful, Artemis will be able to activate a powerful beam of energy that will channel through the red magicyte dusted on the blade. When active, the beam will be able to extend beyond the edge of the weapon's tip, likely two to three times its length, and will be able to cut through nearly anything. The duration of this ability and its recharge will be determined with further research. The damage it will do will not be magical, but pure energy, and thus will not be affected by magical mitigation. Please take into account the bazaar thread, the score of this thread, and any potential discounts for pricing the weapon. Then deduct the remaining cost from my gold, and convert AP if necessary. It should be sufficient. Please price in the dormant ability as best you can, though if need be, when magicyte is officially released I will pay more gold for the difference in a bazaar thread. Whatever works.

Out of Character:

A really big thank you to those who reviewed and provided feedback, most of all to Ebivoulya and Flames of Hyperion for providing such an in depth scrub of my work before submission.

Name of Thread: Lost Loot of Lornius
Judgement Type: Full Rubric
Participant: Sir Artemis

Plot ~ 22/30

Story ~ 8/10 –
Overall the story here is compelling and has the sense of several classic plots to it including a mystery - with the idea of the corruption that came to the mines – and adventure – what your lone wanderer is getting up to. The story is balanced also with the commentary added by Bazzak, giving an alternative perspective to the scene. Often first person stories can fall into various traps of making the character near omnipresent for essential descriptive tasks, but you manage to keep this within check also. Some story and plot points do not quite make sense, such as when your character notches one arrow and three fly with little explanation (“drawing back a crimson arrow. A trio flew forth as they struck the beast” post 16, change from singular to plural). The ending, however, of the entire plot is exciting as thrilling as the plans are found in the middle of the attack, and bring it to a highlight before the final posts.

Setting ~ 7/10 –
Scenery is set simply, but well, with a good description of posts 1 to 3, and then later with the mine with a highlight in post 6. Finding the entrance on a seemingly abandoned island was clever, and added a deeper layer to the mystery element to your story. The opening of setting description was weaker, but as you developed the story it too became a central part of your plot, and thus it strengthened. Opening setting well is very important, and it is for this reason that points were deducted. But also setting was powerful when described later, with the fantastic changes for the spirit realm of Judicis’ comfy room that mirrored the mines well, and the fact it was set on Lornius gave a gritty, hardened feeling to it.

Pacing ~ 7/10 –
Pacing was excellent for this thread, with enough high and low moments of tension to grab the reader. From the mystery to the explanation, then the final dealing of the plot, it flowed well. There was perhaps an unexpected moment with the sudden attack of the creature in post 15 that could have been handled differently, rather than it appearing in the middle of a paragraph. Using new paragraphs and sudden punctuation can help in times of these. This being said, when the fight got into swing you used shorter clauses of action to power your attack and assist in pace, and you used the excitement of the ending well to complete your character’s mission of finding the plans.

Character ~ 23/30

Communication ~ 8/10 –
In a way you were very clever here, with fitting in dialogue. For the large majority of the story your character is alone, so in this way communication could have been very lax. However, the small dialogue elements, such as the talking face in post 4 and 5, and the mental link with Bazzak from post 6 onwards, manage to balance the usual large chunky paragraphs of a description-based plot. The tone your character used was consistent also, and importantly was understandable for the word choice and flow for a man who knows about engineering and smithing (“Based on the water levels and tides, the algae growth levels, and my general intuition…” post 4). You even give Bazzak’s voice a distinctive ring (word choice of “da” and “ye”). Talking to himself added further delights to your character’s communication, and overall there is very little to complain about.

Action ~ 7/10 –
Action was used very subtly for the most part of the thread, with not many overarching ones, but rather small ones that helped with the plot. Simple things described well can really add to a story, and you have managed to do this brilliantly. Example here being post 7 with, “I reached out, turning some of the pages of the book and then flipping the cover to see if there was a title.” Further actions when in times of motion and more tense situation became more necessary and were distinctive. Though perhaps action was not used as prominently in the thread as communication and persona, it was done well.

Persona ~ 9/10 –
Overall your persona is brilliant in written form. Writing in first person gives the reader a very clear view of the character, and what actions they are doing. It gives insight into the deeper thoughts and thought processes of your character. The addition of personal thought (example, post 4, ‘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.’) allows the reader to see into the character’s mind in a personal way. In post 4 also there is the question asked, ““Who am I to think I can do anything to change that?” which is self-reflective, wider understanding of the world, and thus gives us a glimpse into the inner workings of your character. In short, the persona in this thread is highly-skilled and crafted, and gives not only an insight into the mind, but also the moral compass and future wants of your character.

Prose ~ 22/30

Mechanics ~ 8/10 –
There are little to no recognisable spelling mistakes, and this is excellent to see in a rushed read, then even a more thorough read of the thread. A strength of yours is being able to use clever punctuation, such as semi-colons (post 7) and hyphenisation (post 8) to strength your description and readability. Major paragaphs could be broken up for ease of read, but this is a minor point. Keep giving it a quick read through before you post and you have good threads here.

Clarity~ 6/10 –
There were a few times where the reader needed to go back and remember what had been said, such as in post 6 when the idea of “he” came into play as spoken by Bazzak. Just who “he” is, who owned the ring, is not explained well, as there is no circular mention of “him” by the narration or clear mention before. Plot-wise this makes sense, but with a first person narrator there should at least be some questioning. The introduction of Judicis also was surprising and for a reader who does not know your character well, unclear. Other than this, the general plot was clear to follow, and it is these small details that lead to some negative feedback. Imagining yourself as an ordinary outside reader can help to ensure you explain everything for the sake of clarity might be something to consider in future.


Technique ~ 8/10 –
This was one of your great highlights of the overall story with some excellent descriptions placed in. The judge here was very pleased to see some fantastic similie use in post 3 with, “The waves splashing against the shore sounded like the steady breathing of a sleeping giant”. The strength here only grew with very apt and atmospheric scene-setting in post 6, that is essential to the story, and an ease of tone when changing scenes. Overall there could have been perhaps more of the linguistic techniques used in the larger parts of descriptions, but this is a minor point to consider.

Wildcard: 6/10
A fantastic plot that was a mixture of man classical genres that flowed well and made a beautiful story. The inclusion of Bazzak, and then the finding of his father is important, as you did not just drop a random character (the father) in, but introduced him well through Bazzak. This clever use, as well as the mystery element, the adventuring element, the battle element and the line of family concern made for a compelling tale.

Total ~ 74/100

Rewards are based on the full rubric as requested. This post has also been posted as a workshop as requested.

Rewards:
Sir Artemis receives:
3707 EXP
0 GP

2330 GP to be taken from Sir Artemis' account, as approved by him, for the spoil.
A further 100 GP to be taken from Philomel's account for the spoil.

Sir Artemis also receives the following spoil:
An adamantine short sword with dormant ability as described below. The ability will remain dormant until the release of magicyte. The short sword already contains high-level enchantment costs for the retaining of this dormant ability.

Description:

"Using the adamantite received from the trading guild, as per their agreement, Artemis has reforged the metal into a shortsword. The blade splits from the hilt into two parallel lines of metal before converging back together near the tip. In the hilt of the blade, the orange magicyte has been cut and set, though currently its effect is dormant. Due to its adamantite construction, the weapon is indestructible, with few exceptions. Its blade appears black, coated with a powder of red magicyte that gives the weapon a reddish twinkle in the right light. The red magicyte allows Artemis to channel his magic through the weapon with a boost to its power (details TBD in ROG). On the pommel of the blade, Artemis has added the symbol of the Norlond Family - the tankard with an eye in the enter. He set a bright blue Sapphire in the center of the eye, representing his own.

Dormant Ability (due to magicyte not being fully released) - Currently, Daros has not developed an effective way to charge the orange magicyte. However, the wizard speculates that once successful, Artemis will be able to activate a powerful beam of energy that will channel through the red magicyte dusted on the blade. When active, the beam will be able to extend beyond the edge of the weapon's tip, likely two to three times its length, and will be able to cut through nearly anything. The duration of this ability and its recharge will be determined with further research. The damage it will do will not be magical, but pure energy, and thus will not be affected by magical mitigation."

All rewards added and spoil approved.