It is sometime in mid-afternoon and the duo have made there way some miles in to the under-cave influence of Bothnin, and in turn, the under-caverns of Svarta. Sweiza walks in tandem with Strife. Sweiza has her eyes sharp on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary; in turn, Strife has her sword drawn. Sprite zips here and there to scout for anything.
He suddenly stops. His form bobs up and down for a short time. He suddenly darts off into the distance. Sweiza and Strife both hear an unusual squawk—definitely from Sprite—but a very unusual one. His distant form (some one hundred feet), comes flying back at them—his light blue aura shining brighter than normal.
“Statues! Lots of them! Some of them are shattered or missing limbs!”
Sweiza looks over to Strife. Strife clicks her heels together and her armor appears. Strife clicks her heels together once more. Sweiza stares at her bewildered.
Strife harps at her, “Your armor dear, hurry.”
Sweiza’s eyes widen; she summons her armor in the blink of an eye, her sword in hand.
Strife looks thoughtfully at the girl. She produces a crossbow in her hand; an item stored in her being no less.
“You do know how to use a crossbow right?”
Sweiza’s eyes narrow as she reaches up and grabs the device. She cocks it in her arms once. Strife’s eyebrows cock up in turn. Sweiza clearly knows how to use one, but she doesn’t allude to her history as to why. She points it up at Strife once.
“It’s rather useless without arrows.”
Strife holds out her hand. Twelve silver arrows appear. She flicks them in her hand so they point at Sweiza.
“Do be a dear and don’t miss. Those are enchanted and rather hard to come by. I was saving them for the a special occasion.”
“What, a werewolf? Hah!.” Sweiza scoffs at the idea of a silver arrow killing a werewolf. “I thought it was supposed to be a silver bullet.”
“It is, but bullets and any type of gunpowder based weapons are outlawed in Midgard.”
Sweiza looks down at the crossbow. The arrows suddenly make sense.
“Regardless, silver arrows are rumored to be able to pierce berserker hide…” Strife looks up at Sprite thoughtfully, “…in addition to killing enchanted creatures such as your little friend.”
Sweiza looks up at Sprite. He shrugs and lets out a click. They both are thinking the same thing; if Strife was going to use the crossbow on them, she’d have done it already.
They hear an odd wail behind them; something unearthly. It echoes throughout the chamber. Sweiza jolts from it and Strife stiffens up.
They both look in the distance. There are what appear to be glowing yellow orbs shining back at them.
Flame? No, too dark. Eyes! Several dozens of them!
“Get ready.” Strife holds her arm in an odd position and a strange round shield appears in it. The light from Sprite reflects off of it.
“Vera, I hope you’re a good shot.”
Sweiza nods.
“Sir Herschel, I need you to stay above me, some fifteen feet off the ground. Your aura will be our beacon that distracts them. I will use this shield to petrify the wretched beasts where they stand. I will be moving forward slowlyeyes closed—if you see one coming, I need you to tell me from which direction.” Strife eyes Sweiza once, “Aim for their eyes.”
Strife clicks her heels together and then turns around towards the enemy.
“We’re going Basilisk hunting; may the wrath of Valhalla fall on them! Move out!”
Strife waves her hand and marches forward.
Sweiza doesn’t think twice on the matter. She does, however, close one of her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, being half petrified would destroy some of her fear.
Maybe.
—
To Sprite, humans were always boring creatures; it is the ones with the pointed ears that are always interesting. In this case, he sees an incredibly brave (or very foolish) woman taking small, light foot steps towards the creatures in front of them. She seems weary, holding the shield precariously in front of her. He knows what they are; their vision has something odd about it that allows them to slow a person’s movements, stunning them. It doesn’t actually turn them to stone, that would be the bite. His species (Spritekin) is immune to both the effects of being stunned as well as the Basilisk’s bite.
“Two from the left, ten feet; one in front, five feet.”
Strife says nothing as she inches closer. The Basilisk in front of her lets out an odd cry as it suddenly freezes. Stone? No. That’s not it. Sprite looks at it wearily. Even if it can’t stun or stone him, it still has a powerful bite. What he does see is that it seems to be frozen in place. Perhaps they can be stunned by their own gaze? Regardless, he sees something unexpected from Strife. Her shield lowers as her sword appears in her other raised hand—her arm drops quickly and it misses the Basilisk.
Wait, she can’t see it! Her eyes are closed!
“It’s one foot in front of you!”
Strife doesn’t nod; she can’t see him. But she does take two steps forward and then swings her sword again. It cuts through the Basilisk’s head. Green blood comes from the wound. It’s frozen body suddenly tremors and then slumps forward.
Sprite’s eyes dart to the two Basilisks to Strife’s right. He is about to say something when he catches the glint of two objects flying towards them. The first one misses; but the other one hits its mark. It is a silver arrow and it has hit the creature in the neck. It lets out a howl of pain.
Strife’s voice breaks his concentration. “Sir Herschel, be so kind as to retrieve the arrows and return them back to your master.”
She isn’t looking at him, her eyes are still closed; he would have a few words with her about calling Sweiza his ‘master’, but this isn’t the time—maybe later, preferably to barter over something sweet. Instead he shakes the thought and darts towards the arrow that missed. It is soon in Sweiza’s hand and pulled taught in the bow. He heads back towards the arrow that did hit its mark. A few feet from the creature he sees the wound the other arrow created. The basilisk is bleeding heavily from it and there is something weird about the vein’s around its neck. The creature takes a few steps forward as if to charge and bite the Sprite, but then it suddenly slumps forward. He flies up to the arrow and wiggles it a bit. It is stuck. He jerks on it hard and it breaks loose. More green blood comes from the wound.
He would like to know what the silver arrow does to the creatures that mortally wounds them, but he thinks better of it when he sees the third basilisk to Strife’s right; it is still very much alive. Rather than take the arrow back to Sweiza, he darts with it towards the third basilisk. He falls to the ground after knocking into the beast hard; it lets out a cry of pain in the process. He darts up and evades being bitten in retaliation. He jumps up and flies towards Sweiza.
“That was stupid!”
He lets out a click of anticipation as he points at the Basilisk. Sweiza experiences delight when she sees what he has done. The arrow is sticking out of the creature’s neck. She eyes it intently. The creature starts to snake around in an odd manner with its front and hind legs; it takes some half minute before its movements gradually become erratic and it drops to the ground.
Sweiza looks up at Sprite, “Poison?”
He lets out a click of approval.
“Sir Herschel, where are you? There will surely be more and I need you on point.”
Sweiza watches as Sprite darts back to the woman, whom again has the shield held a the ready in front of her.
Is it going to be a continual battle like this all the way to the hydro-electric plant?
—
The process is slow and tedious as Strife must constantly stop-and-go, awaiting the Sprite’s reports about the situation ahead of her. The basilisks never seem to be too far either to her left or right, but sometimes they are further back directly line-of-sight from her. When they find themselves in front of a large hangar door, it becomes apparent why. A large crystal above the door illuminates (Dwarfish) lettering above and below the door, “Bothnin 7th Precinct Hydro-Electrid Plant”; but more importantly and to the party’s intrigue, is the illuminated water near the causeway. It is infact the top of the dam and it holds back the water of a large lake behind it.
“They’re pretty advanced for dwarves. It’s nothing like I was thinking.” Sweiza looks at the lake as she makes the remark to her mentor; her gaze shifts up at the Dwarfish writing. The intrigue in her voice is definite.
“You were expecting blacksmiths with soot covered faces?” The woman’s hands drop to her hips; the shield making her left hand a bit awkard as she does so.
Sweiza makes a funny smile, but nods sheepishly.
“Vera!”
Strifes suddenly charges forward and pushes Sweiza out of the way. The Valkyrie’s shield comes crashing down and stuns the basilisk that had crawled onto the walkway. Her sword appears in her hand and she quickly impales the creature through the mouth. Its glowing eyes suddenly dim and it slumps forward. Sweiza expects Strife to turn around, but her body remains in an awkward position that can only be described as a charge that is stuck mid-thrust. Sweiza rushes up to her mentor and starts speaking to her, but nothing happens. She snaps her fingers in front of her, but nothing. Sweiza finally takes her hands to Strife’s arm and tries to shake her. Nothing happens. Sweiza stamps her foot down in irritation, but she gets an idea. She steps back and raises her hand; her gauntlet disappears and then she slaps Strife across the face.
As if by some otherworldly force, movement is restored to Strife and she pulls back in shock—her sword still stuck in the creature’s mouth. Strife staggers back and her hand comes up to her head. She seems visibly disoriented. She looks around once, and then looks at Sweiza groggily.
“Vera, why are we here?”
Sweiza’s head tilts at the woman. “You can’t be serious.”
“What?” More confusion in Strife’s voice.
“We just got done fighting basilisks?!” Sweiza asks it in the form of a rhetorical question.
Strife looks around at the dam in confusion.
“Are we at Bothnin Harbor?” Strife’s arms cradle as she eyes the lake once. She looks down and away from the lake, eyes closed and reticent in thought; she nods several times to herself as if struggling to assess her situation and surroundings.
“Yes. We had a mission, you don’t remember?” Worry fills Sweiza’s words.
Strife lets out a light laugh, “I’m sorry, was I hit by a basilisk stare?”
Sweiza nods.
Strife’s stare is on the dead basilisks behind them. “We seem to have made quick work of them. Was that our mission?”
Sweiza is in disbelief. “You don’t remember?”
Strife gives a lighthearted comeback, “I must have been hit by one of their stares.”
Sweiza stares blankly.
Strife gives a chuckle, “The basilisk’s stare is well known for causing memory loss.”
Sweiza again stares in confusion, “I thought it turned people to stone. It seems to merely freeze its victim?”
Strife laughs, “The ridiculousness of it all. That is a myth. Their stare merely paralyzes their prey. Valhallan Scientists have had no luck in trying to unlock the secret to build a weapon; Odin is most interested in it.
Sweiza stamps her foot. “Strife! How much do you remember?!”
Strife noticeably jolts. “Let’s see. For starters, you are my apprentice, so it is bad form to take that tone of voice with me.”
Sweiza stops herself from stammering. It doesn’t stop her mind from making a proverbial check if the woman is toying with her or making a power play; it doesn’t matter. Sweiza’s eyes narrow and she kicks her foot on the ground. “Strife, this is serious. We’re in danger.”
Strife’s eyebrows perk at Sweiza’s tone. “Alright then child—I know you are my friend Vera…”
Sweiza’s eyes widen at the word ‘friend’. A quick thought enters her mind, she sees her chance to ask, but holds off.
“…and we had some kind of crew on a ship. I think it was called the Giga Durable, or something similar. I had heard of political turmoil in Bothnin some years back. It had to do with the construction of something super natural that could generate electricity; they called it a hydro-electric dam. The problem was the fact it ran right through an underground channel that bascilis used as their migration route. When they couldn’t control the bascilis anymore, they reached out to Valhalla. We were going to help them, but Odin put his foot down. It was considered an extra-curricular problem that had nothing to do with Midgard. Several Valkyrie have appealed it saying it would help relations. Odin has been firm on it.”
Strife starts to pace a bit in thought. “What I don’t get is why we came here. Two Valkyrie seems a bit strange for such a mess.”
“You said our main purpose was to forge Thor’s Hammer.” Sweiza is quite open about how she says it.
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Strife stiffens up and her eyes narrow at the girl. “Really. I see.”
Sweiza nervously eyes her mentor up and down. She decides to take the risk and ask, “We had a disagreement over last night; do you remember what it was?”
Strife’s head turns away from the girl and one of her eyes narrows, “I don’t. But based on your tone it seems to be important. If I remember I’ll tell you. Help me open this door.”
Strife is already pushing at the hangar door to get it open. It lets out a rusty groan as it budges slowly.
Sweiza stares at it blankly, her mind trying to process their situation, what just happened, as well as Strife giving just as much way as the door ‘should’ she remember last night.
“Vera, don’t just stand there!”
Sweiza snaps to, blinks once, and then nods. She hurries over to Strife, braces her hands against the side of the hangar door and starts to push it. It creaks and groans, but moves much faster than before. It finally gives way and starts to move proper.
Once they have it halfway open, Strife stops and backs up. Sweiza seems caught up in it and Strife has to pull her away.
“You poor girl, you’re not used to this kind of work are you?” Strife laughs at her.
Sweiza takes in an involuntary breath and simply nods; she decides to let Strife have this one.
Strife waves her hand and motions for them to enter.
Sweiza takes a look up at Sprite once. He lets out a click at her and follows Strife in. He seems to be more trusting of the woman. Sweiza wonders about it, but dismisses it and follows them in.
She can only wonder about what surprises await them in the plant.
—
Inside, the first thing that gets Sweiza’s attention is the dim lighting. It reminds her of the harbor. It appears to be night, but it is easy to see the walls are white—a stark contrast and much needed change dark grey and black stone corridors and walkways they spent traversing most of the afternoon. However, it looks too clean and sterile, something very unnatural and not to her liking. She forces herself to follow behind Strife. She isn’t sure if the woman knows where she is going or not.
“Strife, do you even know where we are going?”
Strife stops and turns around flicking her hair. “Of course not. But much like a castle, there needs to be a center chamber or control area; and if this place generates electricity…”
The water wheel back at Maria Village pops into Sweiza’s head.
“…there needs to be an area that restores it. The magistrate -did- say they were under emergency power.”
Sweiza nods and follows without another word.
The corridor they follow has several doors here and there. Strife walks up and tries the handle on each one, but they are locked.
“Locked?” Sweiza acts quizzically. She presses forward and starts trying some of the doors herself.
“If Castle Gungir be our guide, then the ‘throne room’ would be deeper within the compound. Let’s go.”
Sweiza looks up from the door handle her hand is wrapped around. She lets go as if in surprise, nods once at Strife and follows the woman.
Snickering behind her (Sweiza), nets Sprite a dirty look for his trouble.
—
When the main corridor turns a corner, Strife follows it and then suddenly freezes. Sweiza quickens her pace, this time her sword in hand. But she freezes and lets out a shriek when she rounds the corner. The echo of the sword hitting the ground echoes throughout the corner as Sweiza gapes in horror at sight in front of her.
Several dozen statues—all dwarven—line the corridor. She makes a mental tally of them.
Several of them are tipped over; several are shattered, and others still are missing an arm or a leg (and tipped over in the latter case). Some are bent over, presumably to help those that might have tripped. Yet others still, have their backs to the statues, as if to face some adversary. The weapons in their hands seem to place emphasis on this fact.
“Strife, what happened here?”
“What will happen, is you are going to pick up that sword. That was Sigurd’s and you are going to show it the proper respect.” Strife stamps her foot on the ground once, her metal greave echoing in the distance.
A hesitant Sweiza nods and stoops over to pick it up; fear of being kicked comes to mind, but nothing happens. The sword disappears in her hands as it is reabsorbed into her being.
“As for what happened here… I would say they were fleeing something when they turned to stone. But this is most unusual.”
Sweiza nods at her mentor’s statement; something is very fishy, and she doesn’t think it is has to do with basilisks or bascilus.
“Their venom takes some time to kick in. Take a look and see if they don’t have any bite marks, I would check the legs and then their arms.”
Sweiza winces and wrinkles her nose at Strife, but does as she is told.
“You’re doing it because we need to work on your detective and deduction skills.”
Sweiza flinches at the woman’s words, but otherwise shakes it off. She stoops over at the first statue on the ground. She didn’t notice it before, but their clothing has not turned to stone; very different from T’lac and the orcs that turned to stone in Jotunher. She pulls up a pant leg. She forgives herself for doing this and figures the dwarve—that once filled these clothes—would do the same, if it means they solve what is going on. There is nothing out of the ordinary about the now stoned skin. She pulls up the other pantleg and pulls down a sock. Nothing. She looks at the former dwarf’s arm; the arm sleeve is absent and there is shattered stone next to it. Obvious what happened here is what she thinks. She looks up at Strife. Strife taps her foot impatiently. Sweiza again looks down at the statue; she pulls up the sleeve on the other arm. Nothing. She looks up at Strife.
“Check the next one.”
Sweiza rolls her eyes. Strife stamps her foot on the ground and Sweiza tries not to twitch. She hussles over to the next statue. It is missing both of its legs. It’s shoes or what could be called ‘armored’ shoes, are next to it two feet away; she pulls up a shirt sleeve. It appears to be a man’s hands; her eyes trace up his arm. There is a bite mark up near his elbow.
Sweiza looks up to Strife. “He has a bite mark; the teeth look quite large.”
Strife’s arms cradle. “Check the next one.”
Sweiza’s eyes narrow and she about faces. She walks up to the next one. This one has an obvious bite mark on its hand. This time Sweiza doesn’t say anything; she immediately walks up to the next statue. Another bite mark on its hand, but the other hand is missing with more stone on the ground. She does this with several more statues, either pulling up a pant leg or a shirt arm. Most of the bite wounds are on the arm or the hand, but a few are on the legs. She explains the situation to Strife.
Strife’s eyes close and her arms cradle; she starts nodding in thought. “I only know what I’ve read about basilisks and I’m hardly an expert…” Strife chuckles at the word expert, “…but I would say they were in a situation where they got bitten. A bite to the leg would make sense, basilisks can run about the same speed as a human. However, why they were so careless as to get bitten by their hands, that is the mystery. The only reason I could think of, is perhaps they worked with their hands in the water—which let’s be honest, is stupid when you know bascilis are in the area—or more than likely, they were harvesting basilisk venom.”
A quizzical Sweiza tilts her head as she stares at Strife and the woman’s explanation.
“In most of the nine-realms, most kingdoms, empires and what-have-you, agree on the premise that nature be left alone. There -are-, however, certain farms that are setup to extract basilisk venom. It is a very dangerous procedure, and the venom fetches a fair price on the market.”
Sweiza again stares at Strife, this time blankly.
“They can use it to create an anti-venom. It is often kept on ships that travel abroad. Basilisks can be a problem in certain areas, especially Myrkvellir and Niffleheim. That aside, the anti-venom is quite expensive, especially in Valhalla territory. You see, Odin ordered the basilisk exterminated due to them being a known danger. Therefor, the anti-venom is hard to come by. It is often sold illegally on the black market. I had heard rumors there were entire farming operations that breed and sell them; possibly to legit operations. Regardless, such a thing could get a person hung under Valhalla and in turn Midgard law, so it just naturally isn’t done.”
Sweiza eyes the statues once, “They had a free source they could harvest from?”
Strife nods. She starts forward and walks up to Sweiza. “The main problem with a basilisk bite, is if it isn’t treated right away, the person will slowly harden into stone. The stoning process doesn’t happen right away, rather the blood acts as a carrier and it attacks the muscles, the bodily organs, and then the brain. Sadly, the victim is very much aware of this happening until it is too late. The organs gradually turn to rock long after the victim is dead; the eyes are the first indication, the skin darkens last.”
Sweiza shudders at the horror of it; that would have happened to the two of them, had Salmira not interfered.
Sweiza alerts at the thought of Salmira. “Salmira appeared to me earlier. She prevented us from turning to stone in the river from before.”
Strife looks at the girl, but doesn’t say much about it.
“You do remember don’t you?”
Strife nods. “Vaguely. It would appear the memory loss is not permanent, but I feel quite a bit of mental fog towards recent events.”
“Anyway, she also mentioned that the Harbor Magistrate, is a member of the Cult of Loki, a rather high ranking one with ambition.”
“I see.” Strife says it in a lower toned voice.
She starts walking again, but stops and turns around to look back at Sweiza. “Basilisk venom isn’t normally paid for with any known currency, it is much too expensive. It is known to be traded for goods and the assertion that ‘goods and services’ would be traded in the future. Think of it like a type of debt; people displace and leverage debt all the time when it comes to resources.”
Sweiza’s arms cross. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“Think along the lines of black market dealings, political favors, cloak and dagger nonsense. Stuff that doesn’t concern the normal person unless they had an agenda.”
Sweiza wrinkles her nose at the thought of ‘political favors’; she hates politicians and the few that came to Maria Village to ‘nose in’ on their way of life and bring news or new laws from Valhalla. In her mind, they need to mind their own business.
Strife tries to encourage the girl’s deduction skills, but Sweiza is again left to stare clueless at her mentor.
“In other words, the Cult of Loki is present in Bothnin Harbor, and if what you say is true, through the Magistrate and possibly then some. They’ve probably been harvesting the Basilisk, if not downright breeding and illegally trading them, for some time now. They’ve also probably had their eyes set on the dam for some time—I would wager again—because of the political turmoil it caused to create something so artificial. The dwarves were supposed to usher into a new age with electricity, but this seems to be their legacy.” Strife motions around the corridor and then the stone statues.
“That’s quite a guess.” Sweiza says it, certain that ‘that’ is specifically what Strife is doing, ‘guessing’.
“You are correct, it is just a theory. But it is an educated one. But what I’m not quite certain about, is why several of them had weapons. Basilisk in theory, shouldn’t be inside the plant itself…”
Sweiza swallows nervously at those words.
“…I mean, if the Cult of Loki is present, it would put themselves at risk if their operation was found. It would have to be out of the way and not seen. But that’s just a guess. Perhaps they had an inside operative or something. Perhaps these poor souls…” Strife eyes the statues once, “…are a victim of that operation.”
Sweiza remembers the meeting (read: negotiations) between Strife and the Magistrate yesterday. “The Magistrate gave you dynamite to blow up the dam if the basilisks could not be removed.”
Strife tilts her head once. She holds up her hand to the confusion of Sweiza. Strife moves her hand a few times, but nothing happens. She closes her eyes and concentrates. A bag of dynamite is summoned from her being.
“By Muspell’s wrath.” Strife shakes her head. She shakes her hand once and the dynamite didsappears. “This is why you are my friend, because you are honest to my face.”
Strife clicks her heels together and bows, much to the shock of Sweiza.
“I thank you for your honesty Vera, more than ever as we hazard a guess about ‘The Stone Cold Truth’, to this mystery. Even if it is just a guess at this point. We’ll find out soon enough.”
Sweiza bunches up her cheeks at such a pretentious title for the day, “Stone Cold Truth”. However, she makes a mental note to secretly use it in her diary entry, it’s too good -not- to use it.
“I will be honest with you in turn; but, I didn’t remember until you mentioned the hammer. The Dwarves do have the knowledge to build such a thing, but it will most certainly be inferior to anything enchanted from Alfgard. To that effect, we do need something ‘special’ to get it built when we get there.” Strife smiles and her arms cross at the word ‘special’.
“It doesn’t kill a basilisk does it?” Sweiza’s arms also cross, more out of annoyance than anything else.
“It very well could. It is an enchanted crystal that holds the powers of lightning…” Strife trails off and waits for Sweiza’s reaction.
“Is that why we’re at the dam? What were you going to do before, sneak us in if we weren’t roped into this?”
“I’m a Valkyrie and Alice Verdandi, I have my ways.” Strife winks at her.
“Hmph! We’re risking our lives for this and for them!” Sweiza points at the statues.
“If you mean using an anti-venom on them, I’m afraid it’s too late for them dear. It has to be administered soon after being bitten.”
“Oh.” Sweiza’s anger subsides; there are ‘demerits’ to being a Valkyrie after all—perhaps this is what is meant as ‘a chooser of the slain’—they cannot save everyone after the fact.
—
Outside of the initial group of statues, they don’t run into anyone.
“The Magistrate had said they were on emergency power for the last month or so. Would we reasonably find any survivors?” Sweiza asks it of her mentor walking along side her mentor.
“I highly doubt it. If I was hiding from a Basilisk I would avoid the area they hatched. I would lock myself up until I felt the area was clear and then I would flee; I would grab a weapon and I would try to flee. Not that it would do any good unless it was a polearm; I would still keep my eyes closed and would risk being bitten as I tried to slash at any Basilisk I found blocking the way. Then-”
“Strife, do you have to be so long winded?” Sweiza interrupts her.
Strife says nothing. As if in thought she nods once or twice and then responds, “Master to Apprentice. This is something you need to learn.” Strife waves her hand again for Sweiza to follow her.
Sweiza sticks out her tongue to the back of Strife. The woman stops and turns around and catches her.
“You have a bad habit of doing that. It would also be a bad habit of sticking around in an area where there is no food or food that goes bad. I doubt we will find survivors.”
Sweiza’s tongue jolts back into her mouth. Sprite flies up next to her and lets out a snicker. Sweiza swats at him; he flies in front of her face and lets out a very hearty click and smile at her. He sticks his tongue out at her and flies off.
Sweiza shakes her head.
Mentor to apprentice indeed.
—
After much backtracking, going roundabout through many corridors and testing many doors, the trio find themselves up in the main control room. It is very different from the rest of the facility. The walls are a drab grey, and there are large control junction boxes everywhere. Upon closer inspection, she sees several words and numbers in Dwarfish, but they do not make sense to her. They make as much sense as all of the levers, dials, knobs and control switches that are everywhere.
She backs away from it not wanting to touch anything.
It is Strife standing in front of the window—near several control stations—that gets her attention.
She joins her mentor towards the very long window (one of many) that overlooks the dam area. It’s hard to see, but she can see the lake as a very dark blue to black and then the dark grey stone of the dam causeway they walked to get to the main facility.
“It’s big.” Sweiza’s words show awe.
“Indeed.”
Strife looks down at the controls. “If it’s possible to restore power, I wonder which of these controls…”
Strife continues looking down in thought. Sweiza pushes a random button. It goes unnoticed by Strife. Sweiza’s hand grips a switch lever, but it does get noticed by Strife; Strife’s hand grabs Sweiza’s hand before the girl can pull the lever down.
“Don’t touch or mess with anything beyond your understanding. You don’t know what it will do.”
“So?”
Strife throws the girl’s hand down.
“You look here; one of those could unlock the dam, or worse—lock us in here permanently. Do I make myself clear?” There is clear disdain in the woman’s voice.
“Okay, okay. I only wanted to help. Sheesh.” Sweiza’s hands go behind her back and she starts kicking air as she occupies herself behind Strife. The woman is not amused, but otherwise ignores her as she goes back to the controls.
Strife hears an ‘eep’ from behind her. She turns around to see Salmira standing in front of Sweiza. Salmira directly eyes Strife.
“It’s hard for me to maintain my form here; I have to filter light through a glass fixture and reflect it off the lake...”
“I don’t care what you do witch. If you have something to say, say it.” Strife makes her contemt bite as hard as it can. It doesn’t seem to affect Salmira.
“There will be a button in front of you…” A red aura flows from Salmira and stops at a button on a control station directly in front of Strife. “…it is the one with the yellow and black lines next to each other; it will be red. It says main power. You’ll need to flip up the glass to reset it.”
Strife eyes Salmira once with intent, but otherwise follows the woman’s advice. She flips the glass up and presses the button. Nothing happens.
She turns around to Salmira. “You seem to be in error.”
Salmira’s form flickers once. She looks down at the ground and out the window. She appears to levitate as she flickers again. “In the corner of this room is a cabinet. Find a map inside of it. Find the markings that take you to the lower levels and inside the dam. You need to find the generators… the… water wheels as you call them… they will be large massive cylinders inside of a gray casing. They have a crystal in them that needs to be replaced. They have them in the same room.”
“Is that the same crystal that can house lightning?”
“No. But such a thing -is- in the same room. My time is short. I need to go.” Salmira’s form flickers and then fades.
“At least this time she was useful.” Strife says it nonchalantly as she ushers herself over to the cabinet in the corner, next to the large view windows.
Inside she rustles around multiple papers. She eyes a few of them, but tosses them to the ground. In her mind, whoever is in charge or was in charge, won’t mind now that they are dead or long gone. She finds the blueprints for the facility.
Strife eyes the blueprints once; her eyebrows cock up in disgust, “This is hardly a map. Whatever.”
She flicks it open and eyes it with both hands holding it open. She walks over (slowly) to Sweiza.
Sweiza says nothing, knowing not to interrupt at this point from lessons learned the hardway.
“It looks like we need to go down about twelve levels, and then we need to cross a bridge or two from within the dam. The bridges look narrow and I doubt we will want to fall into the water flowing underneath—that lake probably has bascilus in it.”
Sweiza nods her head.
“Absolutely terrible design flaw if you ask me.” Strife tries to crack a smile and laugh. It doesn’t get much of a reaction from Sweiza.
Strife resumes her serious demeanor.
“Let’s move. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave this…” Strife searches for the right words, “…mess.”
Sweiza nods in agreement.