The stars, falling or otherwise, were not what they seemed at first glance.
To the unobservant they were but twinkling motes in the night sky.
To the overly imaginative or vain they were a picture of heroes lost to time.
To those that knew, they were a path to power... or to ruin.
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The net was cast out into the void. Intricately laced threads of mana shifted on a cosmic breeze, its gaps set wide to ignore pray to small for its masters' masters needs. Its gossamer bindings, delicate enough to hold fast a catch of reasonable size, but to tear and scatter in the presence of something too large. A subtle precaution lost on most who saw the stars as their prey.
Twangs of vibration, felt more in the esoteric then the physical, indicated lesser targets drifting through its path. Its masters' master had no need for them as his debt was to vast to be sated by minnows. The shoal it plumbed was unusually dense, often avoided because of its distance and the existence of larger prey. Its master had spent a great deal of effort charting this pocket of void and knew the paths which the whales of this particular shoal drifted.
Suddenly the net pulled taught and its master's heart paused for but a moment before the snared star drifted away from its home with a lethargic tumble. drifting closer to the blue-green pearl that would most likely be its end.
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The wastrel prince sipped at his ale and grimaced as he peered out the large windows of the palace's lesser audience hall at the bustling harbor below. Now that his father was gone all this was his, all these endless meetings and obligations. As a princeling he had been a great beast, throwing extravagant parties on his custom yacht and reveling in every manner of physical sport that was available to his station. He sipped once more at the bitter swill, grimaced again hurling the offending copper tankard out of the window. It would not be a taste he would be acquiring.
Marnen, the Treasurer of the Princedom of the Nearn Archipelago, quirked his brow at the display but continued to drone on.
'The audacity of one of common birth to display such a lack of deference to his lord.' The prince thought, fighting down the urge to grin. He quite liked the man, unlike his predecessor who now sat at the bottom of the sea having received the 'Order of the Stone Cuirass', and would be receiving tacit approval of every reasonable measure he suggested.
"Might I suggest Mead or Rum my lord. It is much liked among our sailing men and knowing their prince favored the same drink might increase morale during these times of tightened belts. It is also produced locally." Marnen offered as an anecdote once the more pertinent matters had already been laid out.
A simple grunt in affirmation was all the prince was willing to give his financial advisor. His favored wines and brandies, of which he was accustomed, were expensive imports, Mead and Rum were sickly sweet to him but at least it didn't truly offend his pallet like ale. It's just that ale was an adventurers drink and even with his change of profession to one of Prince he felt it the drink that was more applicable to his sensibilities.
He looked at his empty hand and silently cursed his late father, wishing he had said no to his extravagances more often. If only to have had practice saying no to himself. He looked to the empty seat among his advisors at the meeting where the Baron Nearshore should have been but he was a representation of one of those extravagances many of his status took part in and was likely the easiest way to get out of his current predicament. The Northern empire was woefully addicted to the sport of adventuring and dungeoneering. If anyone could provide the reliable method of safely extricating ones self from delving just that much deeper then you probably should have, they would become a wealthy man indeed. Or in this case the treasury they represented would be hale.
A toothy shark like grin spread across his face as a daylight star came into view and slowly stretched into a streak of light as it approached.
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The first mark of awareness was Orientation. Drawn ever closer to its destination which was down and its former home was up.
Its first taste of the local mana was the vastly dispersed wind. As it drifted ever downward the mana was more accompanied by material wind that crunched and compacted before its mass erupting in an energetic conflagration.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Fire was this world, its mana seeking material substance for fuel clawing at its scarred and porous surface. Scars and rents that were placed there by battles long forgotten, misremembered, or outright slept through during its time in the void. It twisted as its burgeoning awareness was filled with shock, pain, and fear all emotions that were suddenly no longer alien to it. Unable to retreat or change course but the net that held it did lend its support in slowing its approach ever so slightly so the flames reduced and received leaving its stone shell simply glowing with heat then actively aflame.
The reduction in speed did not however provide it the leeway to avoid the white opaque surface it sped toward. It braced itself as it impacted but instead encountered a mist of water mana and the hiss as the vapor it resided in did battle with the fire that was its opposite still clinging to its surface.
Emerging from the wall of water back into the swirling wind it recalculated its understanding of the world. This world was water, not fire. Churning and clawing at a mass of a fourth source of mana trying to get at the smattering of fire mana on its surface like angry spiteful refugees. It wondered what this one tasted like and what it would find on the other side once it passed through it like the wall of water. What wonders were to be-
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The falling star impacted precisely on the pinnacle of the hill surrounded by three concentric rings of standing stones that was its target. Moments later a bow wave of mana and physical force ripped out in every direction slamming into the first ring of twelve rune carved standing stones eight of which blew apart into clouds of misshapen gravel.
Unperturbed by the wave of force flattening any bits of foliage that had made the unwise decision to take root on the breeze swept idyllic slope before careening into the second far broader rings more numerous stones. A third of which failed to hold up to the strain. This rings sundering was less forceful, some of the stones simply snapping crosswise or had merely been unseated and toppled.
The third and final ring caught the blast more like a sail catches the wind diffusing it away from itself setting it to churn up the turf sand and sea that made up its inner rim. The dust settling to reveal the damage to be, though dramatic, superficial at best.
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"Sand and Sea! What in the Infinite Hells was that!" Dirk Nearshore exclaimed, turning to the bare chested man standing to his left.
The man was staring into the middle distance as Celestial Anglers tended to do. his body tattooed in a constellation of many pointed stars "You and The Prince asked for more stars."
"Yes we said aim for a five stellar rating. I thought you said you had taken precautions. We're only twenty or so miles from the capital, we can't afford a great dungeon of the wastes scenario here, not with nowhere to run but open sea." The threat was an idle one since Nearshore and the Angler both knew the ancient lock stone had stood the test of time and wouldn't fail any time soon, but it did nothing to prevent natural egress from the dungeon which was why they had the standing stones and the guard post. Which were going to be expensive to repair.
The Angler looked down toward the hill but again not at a place that would have been normal like the damaged or undamaged standing stones or the settling dust cloud at the peak. No he was staring through the hill itself his eyes vaguely unfocused. "My net would let slip anything under stellars and anything over seven would have torn free even if it had wanted to be caught. Any greater precision would require to walk the void in person."
Nearshore blew out a breath and waved off the Angler as he pondered. A three Stellar rated dungeon would be just barely enough to stay afloat. but with that impact it was likely closer to seven stellars which was the real source of his disgruntlement. A seven star dungeon properly maintained would be a major long term boon to the archipelago. Except that the prince and many aristocratic adventurers like him took it as a point of pride to 'Break' under-established dungeons. It provided a great deal of short term gain but it also made it harder to delve for the less financially or socially gifted adventurer.
"Well I guess I got to get the boys to fix what you broke and start organizing the first delve. It doesn't help to keep his lordship waiting." Nearshore was again mildly perturbed that the angler didn't rise to his goad and simply nodded and began to walk the long trek up the mountain to his observatory.
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Detan was practically buzzing with excitement as he slapped the shoulder of the burly youth standing next to him on the docks. "How many stellars do you think this one is Barn. We have to get in there before the guild locks it down or the Prince Breaks it."
"Dunno Debt, that's your field, or I guess more Neno's. I just carry boxes for the boss. and swing a club for you." the burly youth replied. "And don't call me Barn, muh names Bardn."
"You love it. Plus you're as big as a barn and strong as an ox. Which leads me to wondering if the name isn't a bit too accurate and you're just and ox dressed in a Bardn shaped Barn." Detan squints his eyes looking speculatively at his friend. "Whats with the slow speak all of a sudden. That's new."
"He's getting self conscious because of his social status in comparison to us." A short boy in high end clothing rounded out the trio carving runic symbols into a length of sun bleached driftwood. "what with my dad being a lord and your dad being what most lords are supposed to be."
"Come now my dads just an up-jumped accountant."
"Who works directly for the prince. and in some ways supersedes him in maters financial." Bardn had dropped the faux simpleton accent for the more dock hand standard faux aristocratic lilt. "Plus your father just tells you that so you don't let it go to your head and get yourself stabbed by some ornery counts son like Neno here or draw the attentions of a dukes daughter and land yourself in real trouble."
"Well if its trouble I'm getting myself into I say we do that in the dungeon. Is it ready Neno?" Detan gave the short boy a nudge with his foot.
Nenozan Reefrok blew the chips of wood from his work and focused a bit of mana into the hand made focus and the runes glowed a pale blue and the slight tinge of wood smoke hit their noses. "looks like it. My best one yet. It should last at least least ten rooms."
"Alright then. As soon as the Guild comes back from the first clear and says its safe enough to let a prince in then its definitely safe enough for the three of us and our prodigious social status."