Environmental Challenge!

In addition to any beasts, monsters, or fellow-climber challenges, the third level of The Infinite presents also presents new dangers. It is, concisely put, a land of chaotic weather beyond what is natural to any world.

Rains, lightning, and harsh winds are only the beginning. Temperatures swing wildly here. The ground itself shakes with treacherous trembling, which threatens to take away your footing at the least convenient times. The earth may split to issue forth molten rock. The hills may tumble down on top of you.

Surviving the world in this place is its own objective, its own goal outside of defeating your foes and finding the gate to move on.

Tulland learned about the new level in midair as he was pushed downhill and sideways across a steep hill filled with trees. Unable to actually resist the deafening, rapid-fire gusts of wind pushing his body, he had given up and was moving with them as much as possible.

The trick to moving with a heavy wind came intuitively to Tulland, who had grown up near the sea. As with waves, resisting them completely was a surefire way to get knocked over, but using their strength would amplify his own. After getting to his feet between gusts, he had finally managed to find the rhythm. And after a minute or so, he was beginning to have a bit of fun moving with the wind.

That was when the hail started falling. The first big chunk of it rolled off his briar helmet, and though it gave him a pretty good thump, wasn’t particularly dangerous to him, he wasn’t really injured from it. The next five or six battered him some more.

System, what the hell is this?

The System declined to answer, or couldn’t. Tulland had a momentary wave of concern for the System that almost disgusted him once he realized what he was feeling, but it was true that the Ouros System had just taken a pretty substantial hit. He had no idea what the kind of energy draw he had imposed on it would do to its health, if it even had such a thing.

Either way, he appeared to be alone in the weirdness for now, being pinged by pieces of ice the size of grapes with bigger, more dangerous chunks mixed in. The sound of the ice decimating the surroundings was probably the loudest thing he had ever heard, even loud enough to drone out his surprised scream when a piece of ice the size of his own head came down on his outstretched arm and shattered the bones in his forearm to pieces.

Damn. Damn. I didn’t have armor on that one. The ant kept it. Tulland couldn’t believe how stupid he was, but as the nausea and shock of the broken bone started to kick in, he knew that simply running with the wind wouldn’t cut it anymore. He needed significant, hard-sided cover from the weather or he’d be chipped to pieces before ten minutes had passed.

Keeping as close to trees as he could for whatever cover the branches could give him, Tulland tucked his broken arm close to his body and gritted his teeth in pain as he ran along. The first chance at survival he saw was a carved-away river bank on the opposite side of a fast-flowing stream. He decided to try to jump it, managing to get across but also cracking his head hard on a rock as he slipped in the mud on the other side of the water.

“Dammit. Dammit.”

Tulland’s vision swam in front of him as he crawled forward, thankful for his vines and high vitality shielding him from what he suspected would have been an otherwise fatal blow. As much better of an outcome as that was, he was still nearly blind as he crawled forward into the cover of the overhang, shuffling slowly so as not to have to take his one good hand off the ground as he went.

He felt the hail thin out as the bank shaded him from a few sides, and kept crawling forward trying to get deep enough to protect himself from the pieces being blown in diagonally from the wind. Finally, all but the most motivated hail was blocked, and the way in front of him was still open. He had expected to hit a wall of dirt and mud face-first by now, but the weather was getting quieter and quieter behind him as the soil beneath his hand became drier and drier.

Tulland’s vision was starting to clear now, though it took him a moment to realize it given the sheer darkness around him. He was underground in some way he didn’t understand, and probably in very real danger of a cave-in burying him alive. But he was out of the hail, able to fully enjoy the sensation of his arm pulling itself back into one piece in relative safety from falling ice.

He propped himself up against the earthen wall and felt around himself with his good arm as he waited to be made right. Nearer to him, there was nothing but more soil. As he leaned farther and farther trying to find anything that might help him, he felt his gloves scrape against something rougher and more solid. After a quick grope in the dark, he realized it was a piece of wood.

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Tulland had hoped to use his new heating element in a more proven, safe, and sure-to-work way to celebrate its acquisition. Without that option, he reached into his bag to pull out the small disk of metal he assumed was the cooking tool and tried to get it to work in much the same way he would have commanded his plants to do or not do something. The element immediately responded to his will, heating up in his hand rapidly until he dropped it to the dirt.

It put off no light, but after several seconds, the heat was enough to make the wood smoke and hiss as he pressed them together. It wasn’t quite enough to get the wood burning, but a quick application of some of the fur-bark from the Wolfwood gave him a small flame from which to get the wood going in earnest.

Tulland sat watching the wood burn, thankful that there seemed to be some sort of outflow of air somewhere in the tunnel that kept the smoke from building up where he was. As the fire grew, he saw that the piece of wood he found came from a substantial pile of dozens of similar small logs. He added a few more to the fire, and the increase in light made clear what he already had an inkling of. He was in a tunnel of sorts, perhaps a place where water had cut its way to the river during a heavy flood. Given how dry it was, he didn’t think that kind of event was still happening, or at least happening very often. It was enclosed, reasonably warm, and seemed hard enough to find that he suspected it would keep him safe from monsters for at least enough time for his arm to mend.

The warmth crept across Tulland’s skin as the heat began to accumulate in the tunnel. He sighed and leaned back, grimacing as his regeneration put the finishing touches on his arm-bones in a series of audible clicks and clacks. To distract himself, he set out to read the rest of The Infinite’s description of the floor.

Your objective is to find your way out of this place. Pure and simple. There are no bosses here. There are monsters to fight, but they will be balanced with an eye towards simple predictability. The environment is your real enemy. Don’t take your eye off it for a second.

Objectives: Find the exit gate

Tulland was trying his very hardest not to freak out. He took some deep breaths and did his best to consider what this level meant for him. If this kind of hail was common, he couldn’t grow anything at all, which would in turn mean he would have to wait until a break in the weather and then take off as fast as he could in search of an exit. If he were to guess, he’d suspect that hail wasn’t the most common thing around these parts. There were, after all, still trees here. Trees could take a lot of damage, but they weren’t invincible to constant hail.

And if the trees could grow here, then he could grow things too. Courtesy of his magical powers, he would have a chance. And he already had some ideas about how to do that.

As for now, he wasn’t moving. He was warm. He was almost back in good shape. And he wasn’t going to risk that at all if he could help it.

Deciding to lean a little heavier into the comfort, Tulland pulled out his mat, laying it a safe little distance from the fire before clambering around the burning wood to get to more fuel. He added a few more logs than he probably needed to, watching the fire climb almost to the roof of the tunnel as the draft through the space continued to take the smoke away.

Almost sweaty now, he let his vines uncoil to the ground on either side of him, freeing them to stand guard against threats that might show up and attack if he nodded off. The newly added wood was burning pretty well now, and the warmth made that a real possibility. Just as his eyelids actually started to get a bit heavy, he was pulled away from any chance of sleep by a sparkling glint in the distance. There was something in the tunnel with him. Something metal.

The metal item was just far enough in the distance that he couldn’t make out what it was, outside of the fact that it was there. Tulland carefully searched around for a rock until his hand found a stone embedded mostly in the mud. Pulling out his knife, he slowly worked the rock loose, pulled his arm back, and tossed it at the possible threat.

The rock flew true, hit the object, and clanged. The object itself did not move. Either this metal was not connected to a person, or the person in question was very, very good at hiding surprise. Heartened, Tulland grabbed a piece of wood, held it in the fire until one end of it was aflame, and crept very slowly forward to find out what he was looking at.

In the process, Tulland learned the tunnel he was in curved. He could see a little bit of rounded metal sticking out from around that curve, but wasn’t able to actually identify it until he was almost on top of it and able to look around the sharp-angle deviation in the tunnel’s direction.

When he finally saw it, Tulland didn’t gasp, yell, or jerk back in surprise. It wasn’t that kind of thing.

System, wake up. System. I need… System, just wake up, okay? I need to talk to you.

There was no answer.

The Infinite? Anyone? I just need someone right now, alright? Anyone is fine. Is anyone out there?

The seconds stretched on as Tulland felt the very most alone and most isolated he had ever felt, sinking further and further into his own despair with nothing at all to grab onto besides the fear and sorrow.

The metal he had seen belonged to a helmet, one that he knew. He had seen golden, almost distracting hair poking out from around it often enough. It was Necia’s, or else one exactly like it, which seemed unlikely in a place so sparsely populated he had only met one other person. There were dozens or hundreds of classes that he knew about, only a few of which used helmets like that, and all of which had other options for the style of individual armor pieces.

Unless he was mistaken, this was hers. And to find it here, slightly bloodied and away from her in a place that otherwise seemed safe, meant that something bad had happened in a place where negative occurrences usually meant the worst. Unless he was wrong, unless he wasn’t seeing something, this was very, very bad.

But there was no mistake. The helmet was there, and Necia wasn’t.