Amdirlain’s PoV - Foundry
Dancing over the broken ground, Amdirlain’s swords blocked Silpar’s strike and sent Cyrus’s staff above her head. Across the platform, Ilya recovered her sword and teleported back to attempt to pincer her. It was a familiar scene to Sarah and Isa, who had both stayed to watch the weeks of gruelling practice Amdirlain had endured to date. Gail and Roher were currently absent, having taken on the creation and population of an individual demi-plane.
“Time to switch,” called Sarah, and her combat drones appeared above the platform.
The three who had been keeping pressure on Amdirlain scattered before the drones’ incoming fire. Amdirlain spun horizontally as twenty drones’ fire ripped through where her calves and torso had been.
[Agile [S] (178->179)
Dance [S] (60->61)]
Isa giggled. “Are you ever going to wait for them to get clear?”
“As soon as I speak, they should know to move,” rebuffed Sarah.
“What are you expecting to come of this?” asked Isa.
Sarah’s drones trailed Amdirlain’s movement and ripped apart the platform’s stonework. “If nothing else, increasing her survivability. However, she occasionally gets memory synchronisations, which jumps her skills. It’s only happened a few times, but three weeks of constant effort has shown a change.”
Isa noticed Sarah’s clenched fist resting on the bench beside her and set her hand atop it. “When was the last time you went pushing yourself for levels?”
“I could ask the same of you,” retorted Sarah.
“I’m not racing against an upcoming age threshold,” countered Isa. “I can count the years even if you’ve held off levelling your species.”
Sarah snorted. “I killed a bunch of Eldritch. They were worth a lot of levels.”
“Enough levels? Did you get back your achievement?” asked Isa.
“Don’t be a pest. Am already asked the same thing,” grumbled Sarah.
Smiling, Isa lightly squeezed her hand. “But did you tell her the truth or use your disguised song to lie?”
Amdirlain reappeared behind the bench with a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, gaze fixed on Isa. “What did I miss?”
The drones spun about to re-target her before Sarah shut them down.
“If you want to help her max things out, she’s running out of time to get levels,” stated Isa.
“I’m ahead of the curve,” stated Sarah. “I got a Tier 7 for working against the Eldritch.”
“Do you have enough levels to use it before your moult?” asked Amdirlain.
Sarah frowned. “Not yet, but Isa’s maths is off. Planar dragons don’t run the same age threshold.”
“You’ve had one transition moult, so that would have absorbed your first Tier 7 Prestige Class,” said Amdirlain.
“Why did you have to bring this up?” asked Sarah, glaring at Isa.
Isa smiled. “It just occurred to me you had been sitting around a lot waiting for Amdirlain since you moulted. She always pushes herself harder, yet you’re prepared to wait for others to agree to terms.”
Sarah said. “I’ve been making a lot of things.”
“Good for crafting classes, but what about your combat ones? Which I’m sure you’ve got at least two of,” said Isa.
“I’ve got the Skill to balance the experience out,” argued Sarah.
“It balances out the levels but not the Skill progression,” countered Isa.
“I could power level you,” offered Amdirlain.
Isa shook her head. “Same problem. Sarah’s got to grow her skills as well.”
“No to power levelling,” growled Sarah. “I’ve got the demi-plane you set for me, and I’ll need to get used to my abilities.”
Isa clapped happily. “That demi-plane got mentioned on our visit, but have you used it recently? How often have you used your playpen, kitten?”
A growl rumbled in Sarah’s throat, but Isa’s smile brightened.
“She’s in manic mode. You might as well go with the flow,” observed Ilya critically.
“Why?” demanded Sarah.
“I just feel a spreading of wings is required to ensure a better balance,” replied Isa. “Sometimes distractions around the gambling table help a player focus, but their absence makes things more relaxed. Ilya should come with us.”
Sarah looked at Amdirlain. “Do you want to go back to sparring with Silpar alone?”
“I’m fine with that. You’ve pushed my cold and mundane materials resistances along a bit,” replied Amdirlain, and she gave Sarah a wink. “Take care of those toys in your playpen. I’d hate to resurrect you.”
Opening a Gate, Sarah waved Isa and Ilya through and followed on their heels.
“What was that about?”
Amdirlain sighed. “I wager not what it appeared on the surface. Isa is a High Priest of the concept of Luck without even an Aspect in between. She’s done things on apparent impulse that have had far-reaching effects later. It could just be because of Isa’s particular focus on skills and luck going hand in hand.”
“Everything we do has ripple effects further than we can see,” stated Silpar. “Training with your swords or back to barehanded?”
“Swords,” decided Amdirlain, and she repaired the platform before they appeared at its centre.
Twirling the blades briefly, she squared off against Silpar and closed her eyes.
“Why do you fight with your eyes closed?”
Amdirlain's lips quirked in a half-smile. “I can hear your song. It’s different to when you go for a feint versus an attack.”
Drawing out a pair of short swords, Silpar nodded. “Ready?”
A quick stab followed the question, and more attacks came in a flurry. Amdirlain retreated, readily giving ground as she moved to his tempo. She slipped a blade alongside his next attack and twisted with it to force it away and block his other arm. He was faster to recover than she could take advantage of, and their blades rang against each other. The clash sparked the blade’s music to sound like battle cries, and Amdirlain flowed onwards. When she had finished the latest demi-plane songs, Amdirlain shattered the remaining gates and focused on Silpar’s theme alone. The balance of the fight went back and forth, but Amdirlain could always feel his cooperation in losing ground and it unsettled her. Disengaging, she teleported back a dozen paces and raised her blades.
“Please don’t surrender ground if I can’t make you back up,” requested Amdirlain.
“You need to practice your attacks as well as defence,” said Silpar.
Amdirlain grimaced. “I can practice strikes in many positions solo, but I need to earn my opening.”
“Much of a battle between those of similar skills is an ebb and flow,” replied Silpar.
“But I can hear it’s not earned. There is a falseness to it,” explained Amdirlain. “Every blow I strike when you’re falsely retreating feels like a trap and puts me on edge. If you want to extend the sparring, push me to the brink of overwhelming me and hold me there. I need to learn to position myself so I’ve space to retreat.”
When Silpar’s attacks started, they were fierce strikes and stabs that were just beyond the limit of Amdirlain’s strength and speed. She bled freely from shallow wounds with increasing frequency and had to give ground steadily. She’d sway aside from one stab and find Silpar’s foot kicking towards her shin with claws flexing to rake flesh. He’d followed her retreat and hounded her to the platform’s edge. A last-minute roll stopped her from plummeting off and, barely on her knees, Amdirlain caught his sword between her blades. Before she could twist it from his grip, she had to tumble backwards to avoid the other sword that lanced towards her face. After three more exchanges, he’d forced her off a different side, and Amdirlain teleported back to the middle.
With a nod from her, they began again. Their motions blurred with eye-watering speed and, in under a minute, Amdirlain had teleported back to the start. Without even waiting for her nod, Silpar attacked. Blades frequently shattered only to be replaced, and the battle recommenced. Yet another deflection within thousands broke her blade at the hilt, and Amdirlain spun inwards instead of away. Her surviving blade rammed into his gut before Silpar’s other hand could come around. A moment later, his blade’s edge pressed against her throat, but it didn’t break the skin.
“A sacrificial move,” observed Silpar.
“Sometimes they’re needed,” replied Amdirlain.
Silpar frowned. “Best not to be in that position.”
Amdirlain moved back to the start and pulled another blade from her Inventory. She refreshed the demi-plane’s atmosphere and listened to the surrounding music. However, the issue getting on her nerves wasn’t external. A Stormfront of pressure hovered in her mind, and Amdirlain flowed with it before Silpar got back in position.
The memory that rose was Ori surrounded by exquisitely beautiful Fey in a shadow-filled glade. Nicholaus’ song had disappeared beyond her range, so she obeyed his instructions and refused all of the continual offers of food and drink, no matter how it stirred fits of hunger within her. When a Fey servant, looming head and shoulders above her, presented yet another dish, she fixed her gaze on him and listened to the trickery of his song. “I will not incur any debt to you or anyone else.”
The music within the glade shifted with amusement, but beyond its boundary, deadly songs beckoned her for attention. Danger and a sense of impending death crawled along her skin and trilled from beyond him. Her blades appeared in her hands, though their silvery hue wasn’t the iron the fey scorned; the coldness in her gaze at death’s incoming song had the servant open his mouth to yell.
The attack that came wasn’t from her, and a gurgled cry exploded from his mouth, driven by the impact of the Fey spear that bloomed out through his chest. Gravely wounded and in terrible pain, the fey’s immortality prevented him from dying. She could hear the cable of life that held his essence within his body. The spear was yanked out of his back, and she darted around him and slashed up. Even as her blade rose, the shift in tension through her legs and torso sent out thousands of barbed darts. Her targets weren’t the Fey warriors close by but the ones that appeared and leapt inwards from the suddenly darkened forest—they carried songs whose malicious melodies spoke of rain-soaked autumns and scouring spring winds.
She duplicated the muscle memory and knowledge within herself that a defender used to execute a perfect decapitating cut. Despite the wound’s severity, the fey who’d been cut down by them still lived, unlike her foe. When the next attacker neared her, the girl who would become Orhêthurin sent him into the oblivion of true death by severing the connection to their flesh.
Amdirlain executed the same cut, and seeing her start, Silpar stayed back and witnessed her rapid attacks against unseen foes. Music hummed in her throat and became shadows of the past that fought and died. A battle from aeons ago played out on the platform’s stage; hundreds of foes and allies fought and died around her. In Amdirlain’s mind, four Fey courts fought around the girl who wanted only to be Human in their midst. An obviously foolish and meaningless Mortal who quickly became a dangerous obstacle to be removed.
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Their weapon experience surpassed hers, but thousands of strikes from phantasmal blades, flame, ice, and dimensional shears lashed out with every motion she made. Fey magic fought back, but those who sought to tear her down found themselves battered and broken before they even touched blades. As she duplicated more of their capabilities within her flesh, she crossed blades with those close at hand while more melodies massacred those further away.
A horde of Fey warriors followed the first attackers to the treaty site, and the death that Ori remembered welcomed them close. The battle songs of those around her soaked in through her skin, and her power made each one’s might her own. Repeatedly, new themes within their muscle memory blended into her flesh, and she duplicated the experience they sought to apply within her mind.
Throughout the battle, her movement and grace changed from a youngster still reaching towards her full growth into a mature, elven warrior. Hours later, she was soaked to the skin by the blood splattered from a mound of dead Fey. Their immortal blood, combined with her power, had effected considerable change. Not the least, the name she found for herself.
With the battle over, she possessed bronze-gold skin, and her rich loam eyes had, at some point, become sapphire blue. The meadow’s ground was mounded up with those whom death had taken. The dead had fed millions of years of experience with violence into a young, still heartbroken sixteen-year-old. While further afield, those who’d wisely crossed blades with their kin survived, though gravely injured. Titania, Mab, and their kings smiled at the mauled wounded from the Autumn and Spring courts. However, they howled with delight when they saw the dead around Orhêthurin.
“Is this your protection and hospitality?” questioned Nicholaus, having arrived back on the heels of the Fey royalty.
Mab smiled. “I told you nothing here would bring her harm while we spoke. Perhaps our invaders should complain? Your daughter has drunk deeply from the aeons of life ahead of the treaty breakers.”
“That was not all that was promised. You said your winter shadows would shelter and hide me while you five spoke. The shadows did not,” insisted Orhêthurin. The fear that had clung to her through the fighting fought to be heard, and Orhêthurin gritted her teeth when her voice quivered.
Mab snorted. “You attacked from the shadows. Perhaps you should have merely watched.”
“They still failed,” insisted Orhêthurin.
“Are you alright, little songbird?” asked Nicholaus.
"From today I am Orhêthurin," Orhêthurin stated.
Nicholaus merely nodded in agreement. “You are old enough to need a new name.”
“An interesting name to choose,” purred Mab, her wintery gaze avoided Orhêthurin’s burning eyes.
“It was your shadows that should have hidden me while my father heard your request. Instead, I was repeatedly attacked. You are in my debt, Mab. All the Summer and Winter Court royals are, since you insisted I couldn’t be at my father’s side,” declared Orhêthurin. “You will each send a shard to our realm when we call.”
“And if I don’t?” asked Mab.
“You sought to waste my father’s time. Worse, to make him another humble petitioner to your might when you want his skills. Now you are in my debt, and nothing is stopping me from singing all your precious secrets into common knowledge through this realm and others,” said Orhêthurin, her tone heated as her father’s forge. “I know now how a Fey can die. Let my choice of name remind you of your failing this day.”
Mab frowned, and a wintery hoarfrost rose in her gaze. “And if I come, you will wipe them from your memory?”
“No, because you’ve proven we can’t trust your word or the cold games you like to play,” replied Orhêthurin. “If you do not come, all the realms will learn that you don’t make the unbreakable pacts as you claim. I can hear the loose threads from severed deals about you.”
“You will learn the value of what you see as cold games in time,” declared Mab.
As Orhêthurin gritted her teeth, she glanced down at the grove’s polluted waters and saw the stranger gazing back at her. Her start let Amdirlain break free of the memory.
She changed herself, but that wasn’t how I imagined it. Is that why she didn’t question her father about him not having removed her divinity earlier? She wanted to believe that her years were those stolen from the Fey. Is that why I’m paranoid about debts at times? Is that why Mab was after me to get the secrets Orhêthurin heard from Mab’s mind back then?
[Partial memory synergy achieved < 0.001%
Magic +10
Death Strike [S] (20->52)
Energy Drain [S] (44->96)
Resonance [G] (8->16)
True Song Genesis [S] (61->80)
Agile [S] (179) -> [G] (22)
Kopis [G] (75)
Kopis [G] (75) absorbed into Devouring Cacophony.
Devouring Cacophony [S] (184->199)
Dance [S] (61->88)]
That’s the first time I’ve improved my magic rating from a memory event, but I could faintly feel the remembered song touching me. She learnt how to refine her channelling of power from the Fey life she ended.
“Debts, Fey hate debts,” whispered Amdirlain.
Silpar nodded. “That they do. What was that?”
“I just remembered a battle,” replied Amdirlain, unsure what she wanted to go into from the memory.
“You sang the shadows of foes and allies into existence around you,” advised Silpar.
Amdirlain’s eyes snapped open in concern, and she looked towards him. “Undead?”
Silpar shook his head. “No, just illusionary shadows.”
“Shall we try again?” asked Amdirlain. “Push me hard, please. I want to see if I can force another memory event.”
It was hours before the others returned, but Amdirlain didn’t achieve a further breakthrough in Devouring Cacophony. Indeed, it took longer for the memories she’d regained to fully settle into her flesh. Yet the way the Grandmaster rank with Kopis hadn’t caused it to break through to its Grandmaster rank gave Amdirlain some promise of its potential. Cyrus was the first to reappear near the pavilion, and he sat to watch her spar with Silpar. His calm gaze took in the change in her motions, but he didn’t interrupt their training.
When Gail and Roher reappeared, a Gate to a music-rich demi-plane had closed behind them, and Amdirlain noted some tweaks they’d made to the themes she’d provided. Sarah, Isa, and Ilya’s return came with a heavy odour of blood surrounding Sarah, but none of it was hers. With the last of them back, Amdirlain retreated from Silpar’s latest effort to herd her over an edge.
Her blades disappeared away, and Amdirlain gestured towards the pavilion before she teleported over. “Everyone having fun?”
Gail directed an exhausted stare her way. “I’m done in. Those songs are almost too much for me, even spread over a week.”
Roher nodded. “The challenge of your demi-planes is beyond what our duet could easily manage without your power evolution. Though it was an interesting challenge and stretched my True Song.”
“You wanted to try the self-sustaining biome. The Mana-supported ones are far easier,” reassured Amdirlain.
Crossing her arms on the table, Gail rested her head on her forearms. “Time to nap now.”
Moving around behind Gail, Amdirlain gently rubbed her shoulders. “All worn out?”
“You wanted a challenge,” observed Sarah.
Gail gave a tired laugh. “Ha. Be careful what I wish for. Is that what you’re saying, Auntie Sarah?”
Sarah shrugged. “I said what I said. How you translate that is up to you.”
The odour of blood evaporated with a few notes from Amdirlain, and Isa smiled. “She wants you all tidy, Sarah.”
“She’s just got a delicate nose,” grumbled Sarah.
“I’ve been in enough awful-smelling places,” replied Amdirlain. “You’re back earlier than I expected.”
Sarah rolled her eyes and pointed at Isa. “Isa said we weren’t going to be treading on your toes any more.”
“And we got what you needed,” added Isa, and she lay a bracelet of shadow vines upon the table. “Rana put me in touch with someone who had one available.”
“Ahh,” breathed Amdirlain, and she looked at Isa. “You might have picked the concept of Luck and Skill combined, but sometimes I still wonder if there aren’t a couple of aspects in the forge nudging your actions.”
Isa blew a raspberry. “I believe what I believe. You can worry about the mechanics and who whispers in my hindbrain.”
Leaning over, Ilya kissed her on the lips. “You’re my crazy cat lady.”
“That’s right,” huffed Isa, and Gail smiled at the pair.
Amdirlain checked the new one with Analysis before she swapped it over for the one she’d created.
Cyrus had kept his attention studiously fixed on the platform and gestured towards it when she was clothed again. “You had some insights while I was gone?”
“A memory of Ori fighting some Fey court warriors. I didn’t get all she gained from the battle, but I got snippets.”
“Pressure often brings to the surface what is inside a person,” offered Sarah.
“What did she gain from the battle?” enquired Cyrus.
“Lots of combat experience and improvements to her use of the Kopis. I also got a clear indication that my combat style is higher ranked than a single weapon. The notification showed I gained Grandmaster rank in it, but it was absorbed into my fighting style without breaking it through to that rank,” explained Amdirlain.
Silpar grunted. “That makes sense since you can use a range of weaponry and your bare hands at an equal proficiency.”
“We should mix up your weaponry more and see if others bring you insights,” proposed Cryus.
“Ori tended to fight with Kopis, so it’s a balancing act between provoking the memories that might get Amdirlain accelerated growth and getting comfortable with other weapons,” said Sarah.
Amdirlain beckoned to Cyrus. “Pick another weapon.”
“Silpar uses the spear. Let’s train with that for a time,” replied Cyrus.
“The three of us are going to find some more trouble,” said Sarah, motioning to Isa and Ilya. “The playpen is fine in Dragon form, but I want to fight foes in a humanoid shape as well. We’re going to go mess up some Dao mines.”
Amdirlain smiled. “Kick a few of them for me as well.”
“I’ll leave the kicking to you, but I’ll stab a few,” said Sarah.
“Anyone need extra weapons?” asked Amdirlain.
Sarah set a box on the table. “I’ve got enough to supply a small army. This will help you improve your primordial resistance even if I don’t like the thought of you sticking your arm into it.”
“I’m just doing what’s needed,” objected Amdirlain.
“Yeah, well, I hope you can take a few centuries to balance out all the pain you’re putting yourself through,” replied Sarah, and she fixed Silpar and Cyrus with a stern look in turn. “Make sure she doesn’t overdo it with this while we’re away.”
Cyrus nodded. “I’m aware of the risk with dark paths.”
“I’ll be good,” said Amdirlain.
Sarah gazed at her sceptically. “Sure you will, and I’m sure you didn’t push Silpar to move into the deep planes ahead of schedule.”
“Seems like you have some predictable tendencies,” observed Silpar.
“Right, we’re going to break up some Dao and steal some loot,” said Sarah and she rose. “If you head back to the cloister before we’ve returned, send us a heads-up.”
“Of course,” agreed Amdirlain.
Gail patted Amdirlain’s hand, still rubbing her shoulders and rose. “I’m going to get some rest, tend to some political matters, and then try the easier demi-plane setup out.”
Roher nodded. “I’ll come with you. Let me know when you’re ready to try the easier songs.”
Ilya waved at Cyrus and Silpar. “Enjoy pushing Amdirlain for a while.”
When the others had departed, Cyrus fixed Amdirlain with an enquiring look. “All your framework of gates are closed.”
“I needed to focus on the feeling of the memory that was coming up, and their songs provided unneeded distractions,” explained Amdirlain.
“Then let’s focus purely on the spear for a time. Have you used one recently?” enquired Cyrus.
“Not for a few years,” replied Amdirlain.
Silpar waved his tail tip at Cyrus. “Let’s take turns initially. Do you have some long spears?”
The three of them moved to the central platform, and Cyrus passed Amdirlain a long spear with a sword-like blade. She tried out its heft and balance before she faced off against Silpar.
Silpar looked it over and retrieved a trident from a dimensional storage ring. “Let’s mix things up.”
Cyrus drew out a spear for himself and watched Amdirlain’s movements as the two of them started; the initial slow pace sped up sharply.
The pair pushed her hard for week after week, and despite their persistence, Grandmaster stayed teasingly out of reach. The memories that had come forth hindered and helped; while they’d provided a surge of insights, they took time to settle and truly become hers. Though her ability to dance around their attacks continued to grow, evasion alone wasn’t what Amdirlain desired. With her sitting a distance from them while primordial flames cooked flesh from her bones, Amdirlain growled. “I can’t get the insight I need.”
“You need more time in the forge of battle before we can temper you,” proclaimed Cyrus.
“Fights where the stakes are real clear the mind of distractions,” agreed Silpar.
Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully. “Fighting against demons or undead?”
“There are more opponents that threaten mortals than just those,” argued Silpar.
“I know, but the ones I can deal with easily fall into those camps. Though there are also the Dao, among others, that favour slavery,” admitted Amdirlain.
Cyrus glanced between the white flames, turning her arm to ash and Amdirlain’s unflinching expression. “Take a break while you decide and tackle some of Gideon’s songs. You’ve been pushing your combat ability for a while now. You should soak yourself in life’s needs instead of the pain you ignore.”
Analysis brought up a long list of work items for her to handle, having expanded well beyond the thousands she had seen last time.
“I’ve got the texts at the cloister to read,” objected Amdirlain.
Silpar motioned her to relax. “Helch will keep them aside for you. What is this list of songs?”
“Some developing worlds have issues that the Anar and Lómë used to take care of,” explained Amdirlain. “I’ve got a Skill that lets me see a list of work that will help the realm. It presents similarly to how I see notifications about experience and Skills growth. It’s usually work that pushes the growth of my True Song.”
“You said you need to push that Power, and you’ve focused on your weapon skills lately,” noted Silpar.
Amdirlain pulled the remains of her arm from the flames and shut the device off.
As her bones and flesh reformed, Cyrus shook his head slowly. “Does that help you?”
“I’ve gained a dozen points in Primordial Resistance with it so far,” confirmed Amdirlain. “I’ll need to organise Gideon’s worklist first, as there are thousands of items on it.”
Silpar’s gaze stayed glued to her healing arm. “I’ve never seen another Fallen willing to destroy their limbs like you do.”
Amdirlain gave him a rueful nod. “I’ll open a Gate for you, Cyrus. Save some wear and tear on the gadget Sarah gave you.”
“My thanks,” acknowledged Cyrus as he flowed to his feet.
When he had gone on his way, Amdirlain dumped the work list into a memory crystal and quickly organised it. “Some are on moons and asteroids, correcting their orbital decay. Useful places if they increase my resistance to mundane materials and cold. There are also some habitable planets with sapient lifeforms. Maybe we can direct the Fallen to help them.”
“Is this Gideon looking to help us as well?” asked Silpar.
“I don’t know, maybe he’s just giving me work where I’ll feel it’s making a difference,” replied Amdirlain.