Four Legends stood on the side of a mountain, cold wind buffeting them as they gazed out into the gently shifting scrubland. This far away from Uleis, the desert was gradually becoming less and less barren, shifting from rolling dunes to scrubland and then grass.
Gonna freeze my tits off.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kate asked, the burglar’s corded arms crossed as she watched their Genosian meat shield kneel down in front of the fire and flick a cover in front of it with quick and precise movements…sending a message to their quarry.
“These are the people we’ve been chasing the last two weeks. Did anyone forget that, or the thing they work for? The one that’s dead?”
“Guya is thicker than water.” Euaha muttered, making their little campfire into a signal. “If Ella says her poeor is still alive, it is so.”
“I for one, relish the opportunity to study this creature.” Suppan said, arms crossed. “Imagine the advances that could be made in Mutation research.” She held up her fingers. “He must have had at least three mutations, with no outward sign. Lovely.”
“Same,” Matthias said, sitting on a nearby log, drinking tea, of all things. “Although the reward on offer for this little message is also a factor.”
They waited on the mountainside, Kate and Euaha ignoring the cold wind with their enhanced Endurance while Suppan and Matthias huddled next to the fire, trying to keep their weak bodies warm.
In the stretch of a few hours, the gravel on the desolate mountainside began to crunch, and three figures stepped out of the darkness.
“Uncle?” the towering girl said in Genosian as she came forward, scanning the four of them.
How can these savages wear so little and still be fine? Kate thought, her arms wrapped in front of her aching chest.
Euaha nodded and motioned them to come forward. The remaining figures resolved into the mutant boy’s doppleganger, and a…
Kate’s mouth hung open as a walking slab of muscle emerged from the darkness, and for a moment she forgot how cold it was up here.
He was wearing a glass bow over his shoulders and a quiver of arrows at his waist that looked underwhelming compared to the man’s sheer size.
MMH.
“What did you call us for?” The shark-toothed girl asked, while the beautiful man scanned the horizon with an alert, almost noble gaze, glancing at them askance every now and then.
A guy like that could make a me-shaped dent in the furniture.
The conversation kept going for a few minutes before they spoke to Kate, snapping her out of her drooling stare.
“What?” She asked, not particularly concerned with their judge-y gazes.
“The Uleisan dungeon.” the doppleganger supplied. “Is that where they’d put me?”
“Ah, right. No.” Kate, of the four of them, was the most intimately familiar with Uleisan penal law. Despite never being imprisoned herself, people in her previous circle expected to do some kind of hard labor at some point in their lives.
“The Order of the Seeking Hand, that’s the eleven men whose toes you stepped on, have a habit of making people disappear. That’s most likely what happened to your friend.”
“Don’t most people who do shady work?” the dark skinned perfection asked, frowning like the most erudite scholar.
“Not like these people. There’s no bodies coming out, there’s no food going in. A small fraction of those who cross the Order simply vanish. If he is still alive, he is definitely not being held in the Uleisan dungeon. It’s somewhere far more secretive.”
“If it were me,” Matthias said from his seat, taking a sip of his steaming brew. “I would use the tournament as a stage for executing the kid.”
Silence settled over the group as they turned to look at the illusionist.
“People like Kurawe don’t make huge festivals for only one reason. What better place to publicly execute the boy than the newly constructed arena? Where tens of thousands of Uleisan citizens can see him put to death for his crimes? An event like that would be good for swaying public opinion toward supporting the war against Gadvera as well.”
Matthias glanced off into the distance. “Not that they need to. You did most of the work yourselves.”
“I blame Calvin.” The chiseled man-god said with a brilliant smile.
He still has all his teeth, Kate thought.
“You’re sure about that?” Ella asked, frowning at their illusionist.
“I’m sure of nothing. But if they did have plans to execute him publicly, I can’t think of a better place. Otherwise your boy is in a hole that he’s never coming out of.”
“What if we kidnapped one of the eleven?” the doppleganger asked.
“That might work, but it’s a damn sight more risky than any other plan you might have. They’re sure to have heightened security after losing one of their own, and they’re all above Sixth Break, so they aren’t going to be easy to keep docile.” Kate said.
“So what can we do?” Ella asked, frowning.
Suppan shook her head. “Not our problem. Our arrangement was for information and no more. Uleis is going to officially end our pursuit of you as of tomorrow. We’re turning the army around in the morning, so if you continue heading East, you’re free.”
The doppleganger drummed his fingers in his knees, frowning in thought.
“How do you guys feel about crashing the tournament?”
“What, turn around, outpace the Uleisan army back to the city, sign up for a tournament wearing disguises and rescue you when you’re to be executed at the end?” the handsome Gadveran asked.
The mutant doppleganger snapped his fingers and pointed at the big man. “Got it in one.”
“That’s a stupid idea,” the burly man said, confirming Kate’s belief in his wisdom. “I like it.”
Why? Why are the men I crush on always such morons?
“Do as you like,” Suppan said with a shrug. She slipped a letter out of her voluminous robes. “If you could do us a favor and tell this story when you are inevitably captured. That would be great. We want to isolate ourselves from backlash as much as possible. Memorize it. Burn it.”
“Ooh,” The mutant boy said, rubbing his chin. “So that’s why you all look and sound like trees.”
Matthias gave a friendly wave.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything, I thought maybe they were tree people,” the big one said, nodding as he took the letter. “We won’t spill the beans, you can leaf it to us.”
Kate put a hand to her temple, suddenly over her attraction to the enormous archer.
***Several days later***
**Ella**
“My goatee itches.” Baroke complained for the thirteenth time. “This is why I don’t grow facial hair.” He was wearing an enchanted charm made by Jinsei, a little button laced with a nem enchantment that subtly altered his features. It mostly changed the appearance of his eyes and lips.
Since Uleisans and Gadverans were largely from the same stock, as long as Baroke kept his mouth shut, he blended in…except for his sheer size.
A passing Uleisan woman craned her neck to follow the gigantic archer as he passed.
“People seem to like it.” Ella said, rolling her eyes.
“You got to disguise yourself all fancy, while I have to look like an evil, half-fish version of myself,” Baroke stopped to look in a shop window and study his appearance.
“It’s not like I enjoy wearing these either,” Ella said, motioning to the tight bolesian dress with the long slit in the side. The button from Jinsei changed the shape of her face and blunted her teeth, so that she could be mistaken as a half Genosian, or even a Bolesian to those who weren’t paying attention.
She was lying of course. The uniform pressure on her from all sides was supremely enjoyable, but she let Baroke think she was suffering alongside him in silence.
Together they made their way to the sign up kiosk outside the arena, where a small line of hard-bitten men and women formed a knot around the desk.
They received more than their fair share of curious glances as they waited in line.
What’s so unusual about a genosian woman in a bolesian dress and a seven foot tall man with no scars whatsoever? Damn, I answered my own question.
Everyone present showed signs of combat, scars, armor, missing teeth, nicked blades.
Baroke’s skin was flawless, bulging at the seams with lean muscle, and he had a completely unused greatword slung over his back in the manner of an amateur. He had to leave his bow, as it marked him as one of the most wanted men in Uleis.
His actual primary weapon was an uleisan slingshot and a couple dozen glass bolts resting on his hip.
Luckily they didn’t stand out any more than half a dozen other colorful characters from across the world. There was even what looked like a Malkenrovian mage, a wizened man in long, colorful robes.
As Ella was scanning the competition, a man nearly as big as Baroke approached, riddled with scars, and at least twenty years older than them. He looked Baroke up and down with a scowl.
“I don’t know where you’re from lad,” he growled in a deep, foreign accent, “but sheer muscle isn’t going to take you very far. You need experience and Breaks, and from what I can see, you’ve got neither. Why don’t you run back home and go back to lifting weights?”
Baroke raised a brow and glanced at Ella, pointing at the man beside him quizzically.
What am I supposed to do with this? He seemed to ask.
Ella shrugged.
“Thank you for your advice,” Baroke said, putting a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder before he crushed it between his fingers.
The deep growling voice turned into a shriek of pain as the man tried to dislodge the Gadveran giant.
“Hey!” The man behind the kiosk, a slender Uleisan scribe shouted before pointing to a sign above the desk.
No attacking the other contestants. This means you!
Baroke scanned the sign for a moment, the bearded man stumbling away clutching his shoulder.
“I didn’t do any of those things, though.” Ella knew in that moment that Baroke had read the sign before he crushed the man’s shoulder socket.
The scribe narrowed his eyes before pulling out a grease pen and adding a line.
“If it happens again, it’s a DQ.” The scribe said pointing the grease pen at Baroke.
“Aye, aye,” Baroke saluted.
“I could beat everyone here and you’d disqualify me? Uleisans truly are soft.” A pale man in a flamboyant orange…costume… that seemed to be covered in orange feathers and rhinestones said. He was shorter than the average Uleisan, who were shorter on average than Ella.
He was directly in front of Ella and Baroke.
“Seems like you’d want your contestants to at least make it to the stage.” Ella said, glancing at him.
“Why? If they can’t compete with men like me, what worth do they have?”
“It’s a show?” Ella pointed out. “For the people who are watching?”
“Foolish.” He sniffed and signed the waiver before leaving them at the front of the line.
I really hope I see him again in the preliminaries.
…She hadn’t added Bolesian blood to her mutation yet.
“Next,” The scribe said, and Baroke stepped forward, filling out his details before Ella followed.
“Name?”
“Breanne Gadsint” Ella said.
“Breaks? Minimum is six to join the tournament. Maximum is eight.”
Ella rolled her eyes. Eighth Break Aiaka were incredibly rare.
“Six.”
“Style?”
“Style?” Ella echoed.
“do you follow a specific school of combat? Organizers need that information to prevent odd matchups in the beginning of the tournament. If you don’t have a school, simply describe how you fight, and I’ll get you marked down.”
“My skin turns to steel and the enemy bats at me ineffectually as I tear them limb from limb.”
“So…heavy frontliner.” He scratched a note in a column on the page with her false name in it. “What weapons do you use?”
“Whatever works.” Ella said with shrug.
“Got it. Any mutations to declare?”
“My skin gets tougher the more blood it absorbs.” Ella said.
The scribe raised a brow, looking her up and down. “Any offensive use for that? is your skin poisonous or covered in blades?”
She shook her head.
“Light things on fire or cloud people’s minds?”
She shook her head.
“I’m going to leave the mutation section blank, as that doesn’t sound too different from a few extra levels in a Toughness skill, and I’m too busy to vet this.”
He moved on.
“Before you sign, I must warn you,” He said, leaning on his palm as he read from the script in an extremely bored tone, “the event you are taking part in contains live combat, is dangerous, and could lead to death or permanent injury.”
Installing….
User is now under the effect of Safe and Sound from User 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-5-6-2
33% Damage mitigation from all sources.
“I don’t think It’ll be a problem,” Ella said with a smile.
“That’s what they all say.” The scribe sighed.
Ella bent down to sign the paper, and moved along when he waved her away. She found Baroke a dozen feet away, idly eating a skewer of Sand gulper.
“Let’s find a place to spend the night.” Ella said as she approached. “I’ve never rented an inn before. should be interesting.”
“Hey,” Baroke said, nudging her shoulder and pointing. “Check that out.”
A man with no limbs, his torso wrapped in cloth, was walking down the street on his teeth.
The man’s teeth were jutting out of his mouth, growing to unbelievable lengths and moving on their own, carrying him along as smoothly and quickly as any man with two legs. He was aiming for the sign-up kiosk.
“I’m having a good time already.” Baroke said with a grin.
***Calvin***
Well, this wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. Elliot mused as they took in the control room. Or what passed for a control room at the end of twenty miles of winding deathtrap. On one hand, Calvin had all the ingredients from warped monsters that he could ever want.
On the other hand…
How in Elani’s name am I supposed to work this thing?
The room was empty save a single panel in the center of the room, and a large gate at the end
The ceiling was a half-dome of Abyssal Steel, the gate made of some shiny black substance that seemed nearly organic, growing out of the wall.
Geiger-esque is the name for it.
The panel in the center of the room was shaped like a crystal, rising out of the floor and decorated with a strange stylized flame on the top of the slanted surface.
There was no interface to speak of, not like Elliot had described it to him. he had there would be ‘computer banks’, big blocky things with ‘monitors’ and ‘keyboards’ that would allow them to escape the filter.
Just a crystal.
Are you sure this is the place?
Well, the other three sure as hell aren’t.
The other tunnels lead to a breeding room for wolf-sized insectile creatures, an abandoned dormitory, and living area for the construction workers.
It was true, this room looked…important.
Well, it seems fairly obvious. Calvin thought, approaching the pillar in the center with his Stalker.
He poked the crystal. Nothing.
He put the creature’s knobby hand on the top of the crystal.
Nothing.
Maybe I have to be in person. Calvin thought. He’d been wearing the Stalkers with Heart of the Swarm for the last ten hours to prevent himself from falling prey to the myriad hunters in the Filter, and their complacency aura was an excellent way to accomplish that.
Calvin took a last look around the room for danger before he canceled the summon, bursting into existence in front of the crystal.
Here’s where we find out if the crystal wants to cut me in half, Calvin thought, heart hammering after Elliot’s tales of the harbinger’s defense systems.
The light shifted as Calvin’s mostly human eyes took in the situation. There was a lot of subtlety in the colors on the wall that the Stalkers simply hadn’t been able to see, colorblind as they were.
There were pictures drawn in fading paint, and words etched into the very stone of the wall, in a language that Calvin couldn’t begin to fathom. The mural that covered the entire ceiling, though, seemed to tell a story, as a wave of crested men seemed to march across the stars, opposed by armies of alien creatures, invariably lead by a single crested figure.
They invariably lost.
Why are they always opposed by their own? Calvin thought, frowning as he studied the murals.
I’ll get this one, Elliot said. I had to learn harbinger script for my job.
Ahem. Bless this Siphon, and may it’s power be used for the betterment and protection of our people, when the harvest…yadda yadda…power over souls… immortality…yadda…ultimate power...yadda yadda…Ancient destroyer will one day return…boring…Here we go! In order to prevent lower life-forms from escaping this Filter, One may only open the gate by placing their hand on the surface of the crystal and injecting their Bent.
Huh. That seems fairly straight forward.
Calvin put his hand on the flame shape, his palm fitting oddly into the groove, fingers splitting around the two He injected his Bent.
28/31 Bent remaining.
Suddenly Calvin’s hand was locked to the crystal, and Bent flooded out through his palm at a prodigious rate.
23/31 Bent remaining.
18/31 Bent remaining.
13/31 Bent remaining.
Gate opened.
A shimmering light opened in the center of the organic, shiny black gate, spreading until the entire gate was filled with a shimmering that looked like the surface of water.
Welcome, User 0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-5-6-2. It has been nine hundred and forty Standard years since the last scheduled diagnostic. Would you like to run the diagnostic?
Sure?
Siphon 3₾64942₴812ᾆ8272531:
Concentration: 112 WPPM
Flow: 82600 WPM
Dispersal: 1200 WPM ***Warning, Severe Blockage detected!***
Stabilizer Integrity: 32% ***Warning, Organic material corroding Stabilizing Platform***
Filter at 135% Capacity
Overall: Sub-optimal performance. Low output due to blockage. Possibility of high tier Warp creatures passing through the Siphon due to low stability and Filter overcrowding. Maintenance recommended.
No shit. Calvin thought of the pile of bones from thousands of sacrifices just rotting away on the platform above the Siphon, and the brain leech that hadn’t even been on the same plane of reality, exactly. If anything was a high tier Warp creature, it’d be that.
Calvin briefly considered cleaning up the mess and cleaning the Filter. Then he decided he didn’t care. He just wanted out.
How long is the Gate open for? Calvin thought, eyeing it.
Phase Shifting Gate will remain open for fifteen minutes before User must provice another 15 Bent.
Okay, let go of my hand.
The thing stubbornly held onto his hand, refusing to let his skin leave contact with the crystal beneath it.
Try Log Out.
Log Out.
Logging Out.
Calvin’s hand detached from the crystal with the strangest popping sensation, sending shivers up his neck.
He glanced at the shimmering gate, and felt the tiniest impulse to jump through, and damn everyone else. He shoved that impulse in a burlap sack, beat it with canes and threw it in the ocean wrapped in chains.
We’re getting everyone out. Especially Kala.
Calvin directed his attention towards summoning Stalkers and Knick-knacks.
The stalker’s job was to kill every monster between here and the Platform, and the knick-knacks to mark passages, patch over the more perilous death-traps, clean rubble out of the way, and make the entire journey fast and easy.
The quicker he could get everyone through the labyrinthine tunnels, the safer they would be.
He felt a giddy anticipation spreading through his chest. We’re getting out of here!
***Kurawe***
“We seek an enlightened soul,” Kurawe said over the muffled protests of the most recent round of sacrifices.
“We seek more like us,” Kurawe said, eyes closed as he went through the prayer by rote. “outcasts in need of safe harbor. Wandering souls exiled from their home, from their people, in search of community, purpose, and power. We regret the harm we have caused these lowly creatures, but we will never stop searching, casting our net among the exceptional and the revolutionary, Testing them, and adding those found worthy to our cause. The cause of the King-in-Exile.”
He glanced back down at the pit to the Abyss, moments away from telling Polluq to do his job and shove them down the hole, when he saw something that made the order catch in his lungs.
Four pale fingers grasped the edge of the pit into nothingness, curling one at a time, like a spider, followed by four more.
A silvery metal hook with a rope at the end was slammed into the edge of the stone pit, the sound stealing the attention of every person present.
The Malkenrovian captain pulled himself up into the ritual room. He was thinner, and paler than he’d been before, with bags under his eyes, bruises covering his face and a manic grin. He was wearing different clothes that seemed primarily composed of leather, along with some kind of iridescent cuirass.
“Oh good,” he said, pulling a silvery blade out of his belt. “You’re all here.”
The leather rope attached to the hook tugged, and another pair of fingers alighted on the edge of the pit, followed by another, and another, as dozens of ghosts from their past climbed out of the pit, armed and armored, expressions murderous.
“Who wants to die first?”
The members of the Seeking Hand glanced among each other, unsure of what to do. Polluq’s hand edged toward his weapon hidden under his robe.
Do they not pay any attention to the sermons? Kurawe thought, repressing the urge to roll his eyes.
He threw himself to the ground, knees aching as his bulk hit the stone floor.
“The order of the Seeking hand welcomes the Enlightened Soul!”
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