"My name is Wilson Koorb. It is the Twenty-Fifth of Trescia. The last four days and nights have been wondrously, unsettlingly divine. After killing the bearbug, I began testing my limits further. Mana manipulation. Spells. The potions that remain in effect, even as I now speak. All in my arsenal was used.
"The results were astounding.
"My Potion of Expeditious Haste synergized with molding mana in ways in which I never before could have imagined, resulting in a truly ludicrous range of locomotion. I was moving at speeds the fastest animals would struggle to compete with. Let alone any carriage. And yet, occasionally, I passed beneath metal birds and horseless carriages that thundered across the tundra. The permanent levitation only saw my range extended further. And even further with the Potion of Red Dragon's Breath. A leap could see me drifting above the scattered forests of Vruria. And a simple breath of fire would see my altitude and heading controlled for leagues.
"Alas, Night led us around the scattered settlements, civilized or not. And our pace was unceasing. As such, I found it difficult to analyze my combat capabilities. Much less make entries in Bom. I did, however, learn much about us." I chortled at the Book of Madness and my severed middle finger, keeping pace with our ludicrous speed through this underground tunnel of sconces and wide roads.
"It was the second hour of the twenty-third of Trescia, wherein we passed the Vrurian port city of Maneas and came upon the Southern Bodhi Sea. I openly admit asking Night how we would cross. His reply? 'On foot.' And so, I walked into the surf, expecting to swim and get sopping wet. Instead, I sank like a metal ingot. And you, Bom, remained dry. Of course, I verified I needed not to breathe. But so too did I find that the pressures of the deep didn't affect my mobility or ability. No, it was just painful having my organs crushed. But not my bones. Not my skull.
"It was then I learned of the true boon of my immortality; that it was not just my arm to be encased in unbreakable metal but the entirety of my skeleton. It was then I realized the truth of my destiny as the Eldritch Engineer. That, in creating tools for the undead and the fiend alike, I would be making things for myself. And with this body, malleable that it was, those creations would become a part of me just as much as the effects of these potions were.
"That thought merged with the sight of ships that simply should not be able to exist conjured a mental blueprint to increase my speed underwater; my first experiment. But with our schedule, it remains in my mind only. Being underwater, however, didn't decrease our pace as much as I anticipated. The reason was, those strange vessels creeping beneath the waves were sending currents all about the place, and a raft of giant otters saw fit to take turns dragging me across the sea floor. Giant, I say, but the largest of them is akin to a small pony.
"I must note that upon reaching the shores some twenty-seven hours later, those otters saw fit to follow me. In turn, Bom saw fit to demand I pull all but one of them into a pit of darkness. In there, they remain still. Meanwhile, the remaining tiny otter saw fit to nestle itself between my radius and ulna to sleep unceasingly. I have no intention to wake it; much less remove it.
"It is then that I must note the unsettling aspect of my journey. Several moments after my ritual, I encountered a fisherman and his two dogs approaching the shore. The dogs seemed jumpy at the time—more from the latent energies of the recent ritual than me or Night hiding in my shadow. But the man seemed not to notice. Instead, he assumed I was a young lad practicing water magic or something. But then he came closer and took notice of my skeletal arm. He… he attacked me, thinking me to be some monster. It made me angry. Or perhaps you did, Bom. I palmed his face with this hand of metal...
"How so much power could come from such a small act was beyond me. It's not as if the man was healthy or even strong. But I took his strength. Then, I took his soul." My middle finger fountain pen halted as I paused to stare at the knuckle it should have been attached to; glowing in an eldritch light to reveal some arcane character or glyph I knew not the origin of. "I could hear him wailing as I sent his soul to the Under. I can hear him still; as can I see what little wickedness found in his flesh condensing into a little imp; as can I imagine the sad story of some fisherman never coming home; the first of many such stories.
"This is my flavor of madness, I realized. But soon, I- nay, the entire Peninsula learned of the good that often came from the mad.
"The divine part of my journey came shortly after I took the fisherman's soul. Wherein Night demanded I use everything in my power to travel the final twenty-two hundred fifty-four kilometers to our destination before dawn. In doing so, I learned that speed had a sound, and I could surpass it. But that was hardly something of note at the time due to a single reason.
"The sky was falling.
"The Eye of Silver. The Second Sun. The massive fucking rock in the sky or whatever people wanted to call it, was falling. Growing larger by the minute. Subtly. At first. But then color returned to the black and white early morning landscape. Blues, whites, and silvers bloomed from the silver deluge pouring from the rock above. Then, that world of worlds dragged its kin into a line behind it, each dispatching continental flakes that drifted into the abyss to twinkle as stars. And still, the silver eye fell. It grew from the size of an outstretched thumb to beyond the size of my fist within thirty minutes. And yet still, it fell.
"The dread inspired by such a sight could not be described with mere words. Annihilation was all I could think of under such circumstances. A despair that could force the heartiest of warriors to their knees, coupled with a beauty that could inspire the most melancholic men to live their final moments as wholly as possible.
"I cannot say how it felt for others. But I felt as if all was lost. Not for me. But for the realms. I feared that, being immortal, I would claw my way out of the bedrock and emerge in a scape reminiscent of the Hells—a place with no infrastructure; no wealth; no industry, magical or otherwise. A place so far separated from anywhere else that I'd have to start a new civilization from mud and stone. Or spend weeks to months fighting to make it to foreign lands.
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"It was a despair that forced me to lament and think and catalog every idea, invention, task, deed, or activity I could imagine myself enjoying. A list that remains with me, even after the world's implosion.
"Perhaps it would be more apt to say the eye had closed. Or better yet, it blinked. It blinked and the Mortal Plane itself flinched. Mana rose to a density of diamond in mere moments. Yet… more should have suffered. Mountains rumbled. Volcanoes erupted. Extreme mana zones appeared. Smoke towered over the horizon. Lightning beat in the vicinity of my heading and strange energies could be felt behind me in the distance. Yet still, chaos ensues. The unbelievable transpires even now.
"I passed beneath what can only be described as Valkyries as I ventured through Ligin. Valkyries! They glowed with a golden radiance as they soared beneath wings of metal, delivering souls of the newly departed to the domain of some deity without relenting. And so too were there holy griffon riders with darkened hoods, sealed in armor that was just as… exotic as Night's. Everything changed within the span of an hour, and things change still. Even now, as I traverse this tunnel of marble some two hours later, I can feel the weave shifting, becoming absurdly dense in places all around me. Almost to the point of being divine, those signatures. But this, this before me is truly divine.
"The tunnel shifts before our very eyes, becoming a wide avenue of what feels to be roots illuminated by bioluminescent fungus and strange plant bulbs. It has become completely unlike the mountain above. So wide, it is, I imagine no dwarf can mimic its structure, for it contains not just a road wide enough for several carriages but a canal running parallel to it and a strange root-like rail running along the ceiling.
"I know not where it leads. Thus I can only hope I can reach its origin before dawn-"
"Must you scribe every moment!" Night hissed with a sudden burst of speed. In turn, bringing my eyes to a small concentration of amber in the distance.
"I stand corrected. It leads to our destination, which we have just arrived. Signed, the madman, Wilson Koorb."
Perhaps out of spite, I waited for Mob to wiggle itself into its holster and reattached my finger before boosting forward with a breath of fire. "Yes, Night. I must scribe every moment. This is what it means to be a researcher."
"A researcher only, you are not!" The armored skeleton grabbed me by the neck with a hiss.
Everything became a blur after that. I saw amber, purple, and green. Then darkness. Darkness coupled with vertigo and a small point of silver in the far distance. And then, many lights. Lights like windows across a dreary landscape that changed like rapidly flipping pages of a picture book.
"Ugh! Why do you scream, Wilson?"
In truth, I knew not I was screaming until I heard Night's groan. But the silence yielded by that realization came with no embarrassment, only laughter.
"I've never dove from such a height before."
"You are a child, I suppose. You may as well enjoy it while you can." He subtly replied. But quite hastily grabbed my hand soon after to pull me through one such window.
The vertigo returned with that action. As did that distant point of silver behind us, overpowered by a much more potent point of gold.
Like an attack from a child of the light, that beam of radiant energy washed over us. Carrying with it many unseen things just like the beam of silver pouring down on the mountain an impossible distance above us. But it was so gentle, that light. So warm and calm was its pull, that I hardly realized my feet coming to a rest against the ground.
"Come."
A push from Night brought my eyes to my front to a forested cavern of amber, violet, and blue plants set beneath an oceanic ceiling sprinkled with stars. A second step behind Night saw me leave the flow of that fluorescent river and see it as a raging gale of black and gold motes rushing to the surface. A third step opened my ears to an enchanting melody of hums and screeches that pulled me past a divine tree twisted around a tree of dusk to approach a triage of cathedrals.
Somehow, I could sense the many structures beyond and above radiating with magic of many types. Not to mention the enchantments seen across the bridges and carriages lumbering across the rails far above. I wanted to lose myself in imagining what the labs and libraries or studies had tucked within them. But alas, I was distracted by the mob of goblins, orcs, deep gnomes, humans, and many, many vampires surrounding me, giving me... praise.
Moreover, it made my face contort.
"Please tell me there's a lab here," I muttered to Night.
He, however, only gestured me onto the court of the three cathedrals. Or rather, the two straddling a dais set before those castles of darkness. Atop it sat the most dangerous woman I'd ever seen. An absurdly tall drow, who stared into me with eyes of gold and offered a smile more cruel than even a dragon's sneer. To the left of her knelt a vampire in feathered robes, chanting before an edifice that appeared much like a barn with a gnarled tree poised over its roof, both adorned with many perches and man-sized holes with no apparent ladders or other means to climb up. To the right was yet another vampire dressed in some strangely beautiful winged armor. An armor that seemed alive, with a heart that beat a drum to her wordless song. Behind her was the proper cathedral. A towering wall of black stone, gilded windows, and polished buttresses. Yet, the object of their praise was neither me nor the massive woman lounging between them. Nor were they focused on the several creatures levitating beside a floating statue of the Owl.
Their focus was on the being somehow sitting on the bottom of the Owl's perch. Unlike mine.
My focus was on my arm. Or rather, what dwelled within it. The small otter that I certainly hadn't forgotten began to stir just as my eyes fell over the perch. It writhed and wriggled. Not due to it stirring awake. But by simply… growing. It was the muscles that writhed. It was the bones that wiggled free of the vice of my forearm.
That little otter took one glimpse at that being, sitting like a monk in meditation. Then ran up my arms, squealing and squeaking and pointing up to the statue with a maddened frenzy.
How strange it now appeared. Specifically its eyes and how they expressed a sense of desperation. "You… want me to approach?" I whispered, feeling utterly ridiculous until the little creature nodded its head with obsessive fervor. And so, I approached with my eyes on the otter, leaping from my shoulder to catch the eye of that being above.
A single glance. I didn't even see it. Somehow, I felt it though. A moment of eye contact saw the otter mature and tower 4 meters above me before it stumbled onto its side, steaming and heaving into a labored death. Only to catch its footing and return with a body of light and darkness; ore and wood pulled from the surrounding forest. And with its new size, the otter reached its hand out to that being, who freely gave it more.
Only then, when its petrified eyes were filled with the fires of death, did the otter turn back to me. Only then, did Night step forward to stand before that being meditating beneath the Owl's statue and clasp his hands over his chest, much like when I first found him. Only then did I gaze upon that being and see him for what he was-- a drow with the features of a devil. Or rather, A drow mixed with a Nox devil.
The Elven Devil.
My patron.
"My name is Wilson Koorb." I bowed to him, lowly and with reverence. "Your Eldritch Engineer."