Amdirlain’s PoV - Culerzic
With the stone from the fourth attempt at the circle vaporised, Amdirlain forcefully released the salvaged chunks of alchemical silver from Inventory. It was a spray of metal that clattered off other scraps in the side area she’d constructed after the first failed attempt. The lip of that chamber now sat nearly a full metre above the shaft floor.
“Well, at least you’re getting closer,” cheered Isa, only to receive a flat look from Amdirlain.
“That doesn’t make me happy.”
“You’ve only been at it for three months. Why are you expecting perfection so soon?”
“It only took me a month to get the little circle working. But this bigger one costs me a week to set up each attempt.”
“The work taking that long is no justification for insisting it should succeed. If it's flawed after a week, stop rushing and take two weeks to carve it. Weren’t you the one that used to say rushed katas appear sloppy?” questioned Isa. “You are improving; after all, that circle didn’t sound like a million mossies buzzing to me.”
“A million is a little bit of an overstatement,” argued Amdirlain.
Isa sadly shook her head. “Would you prefer I say thousands upon thousands? It’s a shame Resonance doesn’t help until after the pouring is complete. At this rate, I’ll have my concealments strong enough to handle Erwarth before you’ve completed a large circle.”
“I don’t know where it’s going wrong,” grumbled Amdirlain. An A0 sheet of paper she’d created with an enlarged diagram appeared lying on the floor.
“Put that aside for now,” Isa said and flipped her fingers dismissively at Amdirlain’s plan. “You still have to unlock Multi-voice, so let's work on that and give your brain a break. Do you hear me complaining that your base Class gives you a chance to unlock it?”
“No.”
Clearing her throat, Isa started speaking in a whinny granny voice that grated on Amdirlain ears. “In my day, I used to sing with my head upside down in a bucket of water to get Multi-voice. Now, this whipper snapper just waltzes right in…”
The water bubble didn’t start high above her, but Isa jumped away like a scalded cat. “You dirty rat.”
“At least I’m not looking like a drowned one,” laughed Amdirlain.
Keeping a careful eye on Isa, Amdirlain watched as Isa dramatically wrung out her clothing with a haughty air of disdain. “Plebeian!”
As quickly as she had created it, Amdirlain gathered the water together and hovered the beach ball sized mass above her hand before causing it to disappear. “I warned you about that crone's voice last time you used it.”
“No one appreciates a bad impersonation nowadays,” grumbled Isa and flipped her now dry locks of silver hair back over her shoulder.
A burst of musical strains announced a Teleport, and they both relaxed when it released Torm on the stairs spiralling around the shaft. With their attention focused his way, Torm carefully took in the chamber’s alterations. “I missed the fun.”
“No sparks this time,” chirped Isa, giving Torm a casual wave. “Though your song has more than enough right now.”
Crackling notes beneath Torm’s disguise churned and tightened, and Amdirlain got in first. “Meeting Brel’s replacement didn’t go well?”
“Her name is Ulat, and she seems capable enough, but Munais didn’t arrive,” answered Torm. “Neither Caltzan nor I could get a response from her.”
Amdirlain hurriedly stored the diagram away, only to catch Torm's gesture to relax. “What’s the plan?”
Torm's smile was deceptively calm, but the tense notes continued within his song. “Isn’t that my line? Ulat and Oitrix will investigate her last location, but it's not the first time she’s been out of contact.”
“Isa mentioned something that gives me a way around the Abyssal Heat effect, so I can help in the cities if needed now,” offered Amdirlain.
“I did no such thing,” hissed Isa and looked at Torm in concern. “All I made was an observation, then Amdirlain skipped tracks and came up with the plan in her stir-crazy brain. I in no way provided her with this plan, nor thought she’d see it as a get-out-of-gaol card.”
Torm held up a reassuring hand, and at the gesture, Isa exhaled in relief.
“If you are getting stir crazy, we could go hunting again,” offered Torm.
“Or go into obsession mode to get Multi-voice working, then you’ll be able to argue with yourself about your plans,” Isa suggested with a tense smile.
Amdirlain rubbed her nose with her middle finger, and Isa laughed her off. “Will you let me listen to your mind while using the Power?”
“My mind is a weird place. It would be safer for you to figure your own way out. Let’s just stick to me showing simple uses for you to try copying.”
“Alright, Little Miss Luck,” grumbled Amdirlain.
“Exactly! And I don’t know what would happen if I get into what Ilya calls my Luck-ridden state when you’re in my brain,” cautioned Isa. The curiosity from Torm had Isa playfully patting her own shoulders. “What? Did I grow a second head?”
“I’ve never met another Priest with your issue,” Torm advised.
“Maybe because I was insane and barely functional when I picked the Priest Class,” offered Isa and shot Amdirlain a tight smile. “I got better, but Luck had gotten in deep by that time. This isn’t helping Amdirlain’s progress. You know, the meaning is nice but Amdirlain is a mouthful. Gail calls you Auntie Am. Can I do the same?”
“I’m not your aunt,” huffed Amdirlain.
“You might have been in a previous life. You were Mori’s great-grandmother, and I’ve recalled more of her memories. I think Orhêthurin came close to crushing that kid’s spirit. What a bitch of a drill sergeant!” Isa proclaimed, dramatically pulling at her hair. “Here I was thinking Ilya had been ruthless while training me.”
A whisper stirred within Amdirlain’s memories. Orhêthurin, allowing Mori the dignity of crying undisturbed in the guest room she’d set aside for her. The tears were not because of any injury but from bone-wrenching exhaustion. Orhêthurin pushed Mori until pain etched acidic across her vocal cords and scoured its way deep into her bones. Each time she’d passed out, Mori had woken in her room, and the challenge of completing Orhêthurin’s exercises would begin again.
“To be fair, Orhêthurin warned her.”
Isa shrugged, and light drifting notes spilled from her lips. Within a few breaths, the energy had stirred the chamber’s air until a dozen knee-high zephyrs spun on the surrounding floor. It was a song that Isa had performed previously, and Amdirlain joined in on the second pass, their voices perfectly blended. A dozen zephyrs became three dozen, not two. The wild energy of the music shivered across Amdirlain’s bones and made her feet twitch with a need to dance. Focused on their song alone, Amdirlain held her place and continued to sing while she waited for Isa’s next piece.
The Power split the note in two, and two songs continued from the split. One theme continued the airy spinning music, while the other became a frosted bitterness that crept across the skin and clung to the floor. Their exhalations became white plumes in the chamber’s plummeting temperature, while ice flakes spun upwards with the zephyrs.
Isa’s songs continued, and Amdirlain didn’t hear further splits, simply the flow of the threads she’d set. It had been a note where the music could go one way or another and instead had gone both. Both drew from the shared resource of Isa’s ability with True Song and Amdirlain stopped singing as concepts bloomed within her. Isa's song strengthened, and the three dozen zephyrs they’d kept between them became seventy.
Amdirlain joined back in on the zephyr’s music and pushed the single song into two within True Song.
[Multi-voice unlocked!
Multi-voice (1)
Lingering Song minor synergy with Multi-voice detected
Multi-voice (1->6)]
The strain against her didn’t double—rather, it quadrupled—as the pulse of her doubled notes resounded through the stone shaft. Across the polished floor, forty of the zephyrs rose to near waist high and threw a barrage of ice flakes upwards, creating a miniature snowstorm. Fatigue from the simple song washed through her form, only for Protean’s regeneration to crush it. She’d been singing the dual songs for thirty minutes before Amdirlain got another notification.
[Multi-voice (6->7)]
Despite the message, sustaining the music grew no more manageable. Amdirlain tried to push it into producing a third song, and suddenly notes clawed at her throat. As the other two songs bounced and threatened to shift off-key, she abandoned the attempt and focused on them alone. The taste of blood at the back of her throat almost ended them, but she absorbed the trickle with Inventory before she could gag.
Isa tapped her foot to the beat of the air’s song, and Amdirlain didn’t experiment again. It was two more hours before Isa stopped singing, and swirling ice had cut visibility to nearly zero. As Isa’s contribution to the music ended, Amdirlain avoided supporting the full power of it herself. The zephyrs collapsed one by one, the ice flakes slowly changing into a fine mist that drifted to the ground without the wind.
“Alright, what visualisation did you use?” asked Isa when Amdirlain’s voice faded.
“I’m a geek. I imagined the True Song as a multi-core CPU and told it to handle parallel programs.”
Isa blinked slowly and raised her hands as if to throttle Amdirlain, only to lower them with a huff. “That was all it took you?”
“That, along with the weeks of practice and listening to you perform. I didn’t even realise the mistake I’d been making in listening to the overall music. It was by chance I caught when the split occurred,” explained Amdirlain. “That gave me the concept that made the difference in getting it to activate.”
“I’ve had no luck getting Lingering Song to work,” grumbled Isa.
“Classes seem to either unlock powers straight away or help gain access to them. I don’t know if Lingering Song is Class restricted, but your Prestige Class doesn’t mention it.”
Isa let out a huff of discontent and poked out her tongue before she went on. “Yeah, it might push my luck, but I’ll keep at it. I’ve got several powers that don’t seem related to any Class, or previously being an Erinys, so who knows? Maybe classes make some things easier to learn but aren’t the only key.”
“True, I got Greater Teleport Self before my species tier would have granted it to me,” admitted Amdirlain.
“You got Multi-voice through pushing True Song to support it too,” mused Isa thoughtfully. “I’ll keep pushing my True Song—maybe it's the key to unlocking other related powers. Something might happen if it’s strong enough, and I’ve not yet earned an evolution. Roher said there are records of three different evolution paths for True Song.”
“I’ve only heard of similar things among fighters with the progression of their Defender Power,” offered Torm, brushing condensation from his clothing.
Amdirlain considered their comments as she took in the growing puddles. “Gives me a reason to push all my singing powers—to see what I get offered. I’ll have to get rid of this water before I can start marking out the circles again.”
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“It is nearly time for your weapon training session,” Torm reminded her. “You can gather it all once the mist has finished settling.”
“Yeah, take an early mark since Torm’s got an axe to grind with you,” teased Isa.
Amdirlain’s hand blurred out and gently tapped her nose faster than Isa could follow. “Bad pun.”
“What?!” protested Isa. “How many types of axes are you learning at present?”
“I’m keeping it to hand axes and the basic long haft style for now,” answered Torm.
“See, I wasn’t being punny. Axes are involved, and given your strength, I’m sure there is some grinding involved to fix their edges after lessons,” argued Isa. “It’ll be better when you get out of here, and then you can grind other things.”
Amdirlain groaned and shooed Isa on her way. “Maybe you should go harass Ilya.”
“Bye, kids. Don’t do what I’d do!”
Isa vanished, and the music of Ternòx echoed momentarily within the chamber.
Amdirlain sighed and moved herself and Torm to the sparring hall. Among the once-filled racks were dozens of empty spots, and Amdirlain studiously avoided meeting Torm’s gaze. Amdirlain listened to the song of oak and steel as she went to collect a pair of hand-axes. The intermingling of the music told the tale of both the material and the efforts of the weaponsmith in their making.
With her hand resting on the closest of the racks, Amdirlain focused solely on the orchestra within its form, from the primary themes to the subtle twists of the underlying melodies. Resonance allowed her to trace the melodic music of wood and steel, and Amdirlain began to sing only after memorising both.
Focused on their dual music, Amdirlain pushed her intention through True Song the moment she started to sing. There was a warble of hesitation as the notes separated into their threads, and Amdirlain stopped despite the encouraging notification.
[Multi-voice (7->8)]
“It would have been flawed,” Amdirlain explained when she caught Torm’s curiosity.
“Does everything always have to be perfect?”
“No, yes, maybe,” waffled Amdirlain.
“Apprentice crafters of all kinds learn from their mistakes.”
“It was early in the song, and it would have been off balance,” insisted Amdirlain. Exhaling forcefully, she started again, the songs split correctly this time.
It took a half-hour of singing before blazing motes of light created by the music had compressed into something close to what she’d intended. It was far from a perfect copy, but the shape was stable. The axe’s curved steel blade showed warped places and, along the handle, flecks of metal intermingled within scuffed patches of incomplete varnish.
[Multi-voice (8->11)]
“You know what this means?” enquired Torm.
“That I’ve got a lot of work to do?”
Torm snorted, took the weapon from her, and set it on a nearby bench. “It means you’ve completed your first crafting and have something against which to measure your improvements. Not against what Orhêthurin could have done, or what Isa can already do, but a fair baseline to assess your progress.”
“At least it wasn’t just shattered glass balls,” agreed Amdirlain with a laugh.
Torm huffed and quickly changed the subject. “Did you gain progress in either Power?”
Unsure why the Power had shown more appreciation of the weapon’s creation than the multitude of zephyrs, Amdirlain only nodded.
“Alright, I don’t mind giving up a combat session if you want to continue. Hearing you sing is interesting, so I’ll happily listen to the local Bard for hours if you want to keep going,” stated Torm.
“Bard!” exclaimed Amdirlain, mock outrage betrayed by the suppressed laughter in her voice.
A smile flickered across Torm’s lips before he could compose himself. “Well, there are limited words for beautiful female singing voices: songstress, Siren; I won’t say Harpy.”
“You just did!” protested Amdirlain.
“Their voices can beguile Mortal minds,” observed Torm, his gaze brightening with the distraction of their banter.
“Those wind spirits have an unfair advantage over singers that need lungs,” argued Amdirlain before playing up her outrage. “The real insult is you put me in the same category as Moke!”
“Now you’re seeking to extend the argument to avoid singing for your supper. I’m sure you’d be unhappy to use this axe, so why not see if you can improve with your second attempt?” suggested Torm and slid the axe to the end of the bench. The steel rang strangely, and Amdirlain realised there were slivers of wood embedded in the steel blade.
Fixing her attention back to the axe still in her hands, Amdirlain focused on replicating its music. The result wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but different flaws stood out this time. Even as Torm gave the result a heft, only to set it down next to the first, Amdirlain was composing herself to try again.
Eight hours of singing later, among the results there was only one genuine mishap, the twisted ball of wood and steel Torm had set aside on the far side of the bench. In a line before her sat fourteen hand-axes, from the first rough attempt to what Amdirlain considered barely acceptable. The latest notification appeared after she had drawn the songs to a close, and it wasn’t the single advancement Amdirlain had hoped to receive.
[Crafting Summary (Category: simple weapon) - experience by item grade:
Apprentice: 20 each (x2)
Crude: 10 each (x12)
Total experience gained: 160
Ostimë +80
Ontãlin +80
True Song [Ad] (25->26)
Multi-voice [B] (5->6)]
“Well, if I do that sixteen more times I’ll gain a level,” noted Amdirlain. “Not sure how fast a crafter would normally gain levels.”
“Consider that an apprentice wouldn’t be quick to turn out a hand axe, between making the head and handle. Also, they’d be unlikely to make the lot themselves,” advised Torm. “In larger towns, the local woodworkers would fulfil orders for simple weapons like clubs or quarterstaffs, but also the handles for axes, or the roughs for arrows.”
“You’ve got a point. In larger places they wouldn’t be gaining the full item experience, while in smaller settlements they might not need to create even a score of hand axes in a year. I remember the smithy you took me to in Eyrarháls to deal with that awful dagger; the apprentices were busy on the bellows,” murmured Amdirlain thoughtfully.
“But they might make or remake ploughs, wagon wheels, fix axles, or a few dozen kettles,” commented Torm.
“The notification showed it was a crafting summary for the category of simple weapons,” offered Amdirlain. “I wonder if they’d get diminished experience for producing lower grade goods, below their crafter rank.”
“A proper crafter is only going to give their best,” argued Torm. “The weaponsmith at the temple would have tossed you out if you suggested he provide shoddy work. He might tell his apprentice or journeyman to make something for you, but he wouldn’t lift a hammer if you wanted less than the best he could produce.”
“So you could get a masterwork steel blade, or he could make you a masterwork mithril one, but he wouldn’t just knock you out a rough sword an apprentice would strain to craft,” reiterated Amdirlain and tapped her chin at Torm’s nod. “I wonder if masters get experience from teaching their craft. Never mind, I doubt I’ll take up a craft soon; I found it interesting that I got more progress in Multi-voice from that than the zephyrs.”
“Those two songs sounded more complex than the one you sang with Isa. Also, I didn’t hear you singing anything different, but your voice seemed to reverberate.”
“Maybe that was the cause,” remarked Amdirlain. “I got it to work by doubling up on the same song. That's what caused the weird sound pulse you felt.”
“At least you have it now, that’s the important thing.”
“Now to get it to the point of supporting thousands of songs at once,” joked Amdirlain.
Torm tapped his fingers against the bench top beside the axe. “Maybe worry about getting some results that you are happy with first. I saw the disgruntled look you gave each of these. I take it the crystal song you’ve been studying isn’t anywhere close to this music?” asked Torm.
“Yeah, it's much harder,” admitted Amdirlain. “It won’t be long before Erwarth’s next session. I could use a break from the circle. Did you have arcane questions you wanted to discuss with her?”
Torm opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. “If you need a break, I have a few things I’d like to clarify. Can I ask what Isa was referring to earlier?”
“She mentioned that, at least in Hell, it was only the cruel music and not the demonic energies she had to contend with,” answered Amdirlain. “Then I remembered a few individuals telling me about the succubi coming and going between the Abyss and Hell. When I asked her if she’s encountered abyssal succubi in Hell, she said their cruelty and lust didn’t differ, but the haze of energy about them did.”
“Pretending to be a visiting infernal Succubus would be risky due to your lack of knowledge,” cautioned Torm.
“Yeah, I know that, and when I asked her to teach me more about Hell, Isa promptly freaked. I certainly wouldn’t offer the services that Munais seems unbothered by providing. Though I could always put on Dominator leathers again, I think my current Willpower would hold me in good stead against most,” said Amdirlain. “If I keep my mouth shut and don’t talk about Hell, they’ll likely take whatever oddities they might see in my behaviour as part of Hell’s designs.”
The wince that twisted Torm’s expression didn’t mesh with his song, but Amdirlain waited for him to explain. “I’d hate to admit it, but that might be safer than being an Alu-Demon. A powerful infernal Succubus, demons would see plans and opportunities rather than immediately considering you to be prey. A major risk in that disguise is if you draw attention from something too powerful, especially since your unreadable mind might draw the attention of Moloch’s agents.”
“False Mind,” blurted Amdirlain casually.
Torm tilted his head and beckoned her to continue. “What is the rest of that?”
“It’s a telepathic technique for mental shielding—you set up a false shell around your inner thoughts; in a way, a bit like Viper was around my soul,” explained Amdirlain. “Though I used it during training to protect others in my group, I couldn’t get it working consistently around myself. However, that was over a hundred levels ago, and I know it's possible to establish it outside the mental barrier of being Hidden.”
“Another thing to practice then; I doubt it would be safe for your mental presence to vanish mid-questioning.”
“So much to learn,” wailed Amdirlain playfully.
“At least you won’t get bored while slowly going crazy,” joked Torm. “Would you explain one thing to me? You can create things, so what is the difference between the Anar and the Lómë?”
“I told you before that Roher’s statement about creating wasn’t factual, more his particular biases. I’m not sure I understand it completely to give a good explanation. The standard Human singing voice varies from baritone to soprano,” Amdirlain started and stopped with a huff. “I’m not sure I can extend this analogy sufficiently. It’ll have holes in it.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Anar and Lómë both have singers with the same octave ranges; it's not what stops them from being able to do the same thing as each other,” explained Amdirlain, waving at herself. “Protean lets me change my voice; someone could do the same with True Song, so the registers you can sing don’t matter.”
“The explanation doesn’t have to be perfect,” reassured Torm. “I was just seeking a general understanding.”
“That’s good because I’m not sure I get it perfectly either,” grumbled Amdirlain. When Torm snorted in amusement, she crossed her arms with a stony expression.
“Never mind, I didn’t say a thing,” Torm declared, raising his hands defensively.
“You’re not helping my confidence in being able to explain this properly,” Amdirlain huffed, clapping her hands together sharply. “This is simplified, but pretend all the materials in the Titan’s realm align with particular octave ranges that True Song can touch. Some resonate with deep bass notes, while others favour high, shrill notes that would cause any dogs nearby to whimper.”
Her explanation caused Torm to frown with mock indignation, and Amdirlain fluttered her eyelashes innocently before she continued.
“It's okay, Torm, you’re not a puppy anymore, it's alright,” teased Amdirlain and skipped back out of reach. “Now, for this analogy, consider that quickly changing material involves songs with high notes, and any enduring changes to the material involves songs with deep notes.”
“But steel doesn’t change easily,” argued Torm.
“Yes, it does, especially compared to various magical metals, like Laen, or those that require special circumstances to manipulate for crafting. That’s not to say all magical materials have deep notes; I remember mithril’s song being a delicate honeycomb which might be why it drinks in magic so easily,” said Amdirlain. “Now, like humans have a natural octave range for their voice, Anar and Lómë have a natural octave for their True Song. Like Human singers, that range can expand with training, yet only to a certain limit. Follow?”
Torm nodded, with no hesitation. “So, in your analogy, Lómë won’t be breaking glass, and Anar can’t sing the rumbling notes. Which is why, for defensive protections, the Anar relied on the Lómë?”
“Exactly. Anything enduring that won’t react to other energy, you’d need Lómë Glinnel support. If you’re looking to create an extremely high-energy reaction, you get an Anar whose natural octave range could shatter metal, not just glass. Close to the middle, they both can create mundane materials if their ‘vocal’ range is suitable.”
“Then why do the Lómë need Anar to create True Song Crystal?” enquired Torm. “It's an enduring material that is nearly unbreakable.”
“Because it’s a weird hybrid material. As it can enable extremely high energy reactions—like the purification fields—it needs both Anar and Lómë working together to create it,” Amdirlain said.
Picking up the first axe, she used Inventory to etch out a sine wave graph on the surface of its blade. “The energy state within True Song Crystal goes from the peak to the trough of these waves. The Anar can create the portions of its song above the line, the Lómë those below.”
“Does that mean when the singers are working together, their music combines, and the motes that made your axes follow the wave?” asked Torm. “Like a ship driven by the storm, the material’s motes reach the trough, and if the crew doesn’t mess up, it climbs the next wave.”
“In this case, the crew are the choruses handling the creation. The crystal can stay stable for billions of years if they sing properly. It's also why some grottos failed—fatigue not just of the singers but also in the crystal that let them support the barriers and purification fields,” explained Amdirlain. “The Lómë singers couldn’t manage the high notes, but the crystal’s oscillation took care of that problem. They just had to keep feeding it in more deep notes and let the wave do the rest.”
“When Isa was working to fix the crystals, was she shoring up those high notes or bailing?”
“More like she was below decks, caulking the seams. Reestablishing the pattern of the crystal’s song, which from what she’s said is far easier than crafting them initially,” agreed Amdirlain. “Regardless of the singer’s fatigue, eventually the Lómë would have faced extinction as they lost more and more crystals. With the destruction of their homes, they’d effectively have left their holdings, and the clauses of service in the agreement would take effect.”
“You know, that means Balnérith might not have any further dire plans? After all, the Anar species is no more, and the Lómë are on death’s door,” offered Torm. “Why spend resources when she can just wait them out like the Titan did the Greek gods? She might not have trapped them in Ternòx for any other reason than to ensure their destruction. The female Lómë she’d convert into more Succubi, and the males she’d leave imprisoned in Nox demonic shells.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’d prefer to err on the side of caution and put a stake in the bitch’s heart.”