Interface Podium is no longer connected to the Astral Collector and can be claimed. Claim? Yes No.
Nate stood in front of the podium, Terry still asleep in Fuzzball's lap on the front pew. He accepted, and the podium's internal gears began to move, the podium shrinking smaller and smaller until it became an amulet with a chain as dark purple as Terry's armor plating.
You have claimed Interface Podium. Interface Podium is bound to you. No one else can use the podium without your implicit permission.
Nate picked up the amulet. It was a fist sized cube with small gears. “Fuzzball?”
“I saw it.”
“Magic is amazing!” He excitedly pumped the air. “Let's go, Terry! We need to test this thing out.” Terry sprang up, accidentally breaking the pew and sprawling Fuzzball to the floor.
“Really, Terry?” Fuzzball groaned as he rose to his feet and followed Nate outside.
In the open space next to the well, Nate dropped the amulet, stepping several feet away. He channeled magic into it, and the gears churned again, the cube elongating and stretching into an enormous outdoor grill.
“Oh my,” Nate exclaimed, “think of all the deliciousness we can make on this! And look!” He opened a cabinet door, revealing shelves stocked with fresh meat and vegetables. “All the food I have in my inventory can be accessed from here!”
He tested the modular aspects of the Interface Podium, changing the grills to ovens, to microwaves, to a fire pit with a rotating spit.
Fuzzball, though impressed, said, “What else besides food prep can this thing do?”
Adaptive Learning has increased from Novice 15 to Novice 16. Total Fatigue has increased by 1. Progression to Level 10 at 96%.
Nate ran the podium through its paces, finding that changing its nature quickly over short spans was magically taxing. He made a forge, and like the cooking elements had to trickle in magic for the heating to work. He turned it into a toolshed where the tools he'd gathered from the mine were all organized.
“How does this know what you have in your inventory?” Fuzzball asked as he picked up a pickax from the wall.
“The message I received said it's bound to me, so it must be able to access it as part of my interface.”
He changed it again to workbenches suitable for each of the seven crafting skills. Fuzzball was particularly interested in the alchemist station, and they spent several hours fiddling with its elements. His Alchemist Sigil Stone increased the speed at which he could craft alchemical formulae. Nate, who had been learning as much as possible over the short time they had thus far spent together, was hard pressed to keep up with Fuzzball's efficiency.
Fuzzball helped him fine tune the station for optimal crafting. Nate made notes in his journal to make sure he could reform the setup later.
“I'm beat,” Nate said as he sat hard on the soft grass. “This sunlight is nice. I think Terry and I will have a nap.”
“Do you mind if I continue?” Fuzzball asked.
“Of course! You can apply your own magic to work the systems, right?”
“Yes.”
Terry curled up behind Nate, who rested his head on the astral maw's leathery stomach, giving it a light rub. “Don't let me sleep too long.”
The sky was all reds and purples when Nate woke up. Fuzzball was still at work.
“Why did you let me sleep so late?!” Nate said, exasperated.
Fuzzball looked up from his work, “What? It hasn't been that- oh. Sorry, I must have lost track of time.”
Much to Nate's surprise, his skin wasn't red from overexposure to sunlight. It was warm to the touch, of course, much like Terry's.
“Am I so magical now that I don't sunburn?” he asked aloud.
“I wouldn't know,” Fuzzball said, refocused on his potion making.
“What have you been doing all this time? And why do you smell like fresh laundry?”
Fuzzball presented Nate with a small vial of a pearlescent liquid. “First, I can use magic to make the vials. It takes a lot of it to make a permanent one, but you could make several that lasted a few days for the same amount, or many that last an hour. It varies.”
Nate tried the same thing, and found it took nearly his full magic bar to make a vial that lasted a day. “Not practical at my current abilities, but good to know. What is this liquid?”
“I've been experimenting with the plants we have available, and I've found a way to make a specialized cleaner.”
“This stuff?”
“Yep! I poured a vial of it over myself not too long before you woke up. I don't know what to call it yet.”
Nate tipped the vial over his head and felt a cooling sensation like he'd stepped into a cool shower. Dirt and blood and other materials that dirtied his clothing seemed to dissolve away. He smelled himself, finding the same fresh linen scent.
“Fuzzball, if this doesn't already exist, you might just have a million dollar invention. I've never felt so clean in my entire life! I think even my teeth are clean!”
“Not sure it's practical for long term creation, as it took me several hours just make those two vials, but perhaps we can refine the process. Also, what are dollars?”
“Money from where I'm from.” A low noise rumbled out from Terry as he abruptly stood, looking toward the south. “I'm sorry I didn't save you any, buddy.”
Terry ran in the direction he was looking, his claws digging deep ruts into the dirt as he ran. Nate shouted after him, then followed along. Fuzzball stayed behind. Nate started their chat link as he ran, taking every chance he got to jump over fences, onto rooftops, and through any space he could reasonably navigate. As he caught up, his aura sense picked up someone new. His HUD compass showed the dot as blue, which Nate took as a positive.
Terry was chasing a blue skinned man who looked a bit younger than Nate, moving easily though he carried a hefty looking backpack.
“To me, Terry!” Nate called out. “Don't worry, stranger, Terry won't really hurt you unless I tell him.”
Terry stopped chasing the man and moved to stand next to Nate, his four glowing eyes narrowed at the newcomer, who pulled a tablet connected via cable to a wand that he waved around. The slate began beeping.
“An astral creature of some sort. Heart rate indicates it is terrifying in nature until heeled by,” Zeff looked up from his notes, “a human?”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“My name's Nate. Welcome to Gronwood!”
“Zeff. Did you cause that pulse yesterday?”
“I think so? Not intentionally. Are you hungry? Fuzzball and I will be having a late dinner soon.” Zeff's stomach growled loudly enough that Nate heard it. “Well, that settles it! Come eat with us.”
Zeff stared with unabashed wonder as Nate led him to the mobile alchemy station that he changed into a grill. Fuzzball, to similar wonder, was a sasquatch!
“I have so many questions,” Zeff said.
Nate, now wearing an apron that said ‘I came to Gronwood and all I got was Dope Ass Magic Powers!’ trickled in magic to fire the grill and plucked some slabs of steelbeak from behind the counter, tossing a raw one at Terry, who happily snatched it from the air. He summoned his multitool, which he turned into a spatula with small tines on the front face. “We have many of our own. As this is a special occasion, how do you like your steak?”
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The Aquanaut skimmed swiftly over the waters of the Atlantris Ocean. Captain Raine stood at the helm, her nervousness growing stronger the closer they got to their destination. Shelldon had brought her a skewer of grilled fish, and she chewed thoughtfully as she looked over the waters.
As though stepping from her shadow, the Chimeran appeared next to her, similarly contemplative and holding a skewer of grilled fish. Raine said nothing, trying to ignore her latest problem even as he turned to look at her.
“Your cook is skilled,” he said, drawing a shocked expression.
“Yes he is.”
“My name is Skelwulf,” the Chimeran said.
Raine's expression shifted from shock to realization. “Zolis's personal hunter,” she whispered.
Skelwulf nodded.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“We draw near to the shores of the Dead Wood. My target is south in the ruined town of Gronwood.”
“Never been that far inland here.”
Skelwulf reached into a pocket of his suit and handed her a palm sized orb. “You will stay nearby once we reach landfall, I will contact you through this orb every day at dusk. If I don't contact you for two dusks, you are free to go as I am likely dead.”
Raine tucked away the orb and said nothing, returning to looking over the waters as Skelwulf slipped away. He had thus far been a very good stowaway. Her crew barely noticed he was even there, except when he appeared for meals. That one conversation was the most words she'd heard from him all the journey thus far.
She still didn't like the forced job, but with Zolis paying twice the day rate, it was an acceptable risk. She could keep her crew afloat for longer, maybe even take a long deserved break after all this was done.
----------------------------------------
“Those smell amazing!” Fuzzball exclaimed as Nate set the plates on one of the tables in the tavern that Zeff noticed had been named the Gronwood Cantina, under which it read ‘You will never find a more restful hive of grub and flippancy. We hope you're hungry!’
“Thank you,” Nate accepted graciously, “the ramps really tie it all together.”
After they'd mostly cleaned their plates, Zeff continued his questioning. “So you woke up here in Gronwood and found Fuzzball frozen in a chest?”
“Yep! We've been rebuilding this place ever since.”
“Why?”
“Our question next, Zeff, that's how this game works.”
“Sorry,” he said as he chewed his last bit of steak.
“I didn't see your type of being when… I arrived. Are you from around here?”
“I'm not sure, to be honest. I haven't run into any others like me except for once in the Floating City, but he disappeared in the crowd before I could approach him. My earliest memory was when I was young and swimming through the sand. I've bounced around from job to job since then. What exactly is Terry?”
“He's my familiar as of a few hours ago. He's an Astral Maw, though that may present more questions than answers.” Nate watched Zeff pull a semitransparent pane of glass from his backpack, text appearing on it as he began to tap away. “Is that a tablet?”
“We call them slates. They're connected to the Scene for information input and output,” he looked pointedly at Fuzzball, “Can you really become blurry?”
Fuzzball seemed to begin vibrating at a frequency that blurred his appearance. Zeff made more notes into his slate.
“What is the Scene?”
“You might call it something different here. It's the SCN. Storm Chaser Network. It taps into the ambient magic across Terra to power its communication grid. It has several colloquial names, but we call it the Scene. Given that you have a familiar, how many sigil stones do you have?”
“I have three. Fuzzball has two,” he looked at the no longer blurry Fuzzball.
“Alchemy and Garden,” Fuzzball curled his hand into a fist that covered in vines to accentuate the point.
Zeff nodded, “Explains the farm you have out back. I have one, Technology.”
“What does that sigil stone do?” Fuzzball asked.
“It gives me insight on how technology functions, including such things as how to fix or sabotage them, or to construct new things within my Novice capabilities. And I can use my magic to enhance those abilities further.”
“Sounds like you may be a good friend to have, Zeff.”
“I make myself useful where I can,” he said with a smile.
Nate reached out his hand. Zeff wasn't sure how to respond, so he just reached his hand out in the same fashion. Nate grabbed and shook it.
Zeffrey von Zeppelberg. Level 16 Elementoid (Air) Novice.
“That's very Dungeons and Dragons of you, Zeffrey,” Nate said.
“What?”
“Are you sure you didn't get on a roller coaster and appear here, only to be harassed by a short, balding wizard in red robes?”
“You've lost me.”
“You know, constantly under attack by a dumb one-horned overlord and a five headed dragon god?”
“Are you following this, Fuzzball?”
“Nope.” Fuzzball savored another bite.
“It's fine. Maybe one day I can introduce you to television.”
“Sounds great!” Zeff was sincere in his curiosity about things he didn't know, especially if technological in nature.
“Are there any other Elementoids like you around?” Nate asked.
“El-what now?”
“You- don't know what you are?”
Zeff scrolled through his notes and began rambling. “I haven't been able to discover that through my research. I know the things I can do because of what I am, like holding my breath for an extremely long time, but I haven't found…”
Nate began to feel like he'd made a mistake as Zeff's eyes grew wider and wider.
“You have the Interface Sigil Stone!”
Terry silently stepped behind Zeff, awaiting a command from Nate, sensing potential danger.
“I do, yes. Is that bad? Is this something I should be keeping to myself?”
“No! It's amazing! And maybe? Some people in power may want to control that ability if it comes out you have it. Only one other person has ever been found to have had one across Terra.”
“And where are they now?”
“No idea,” Zeff shrugged, continuing to scroll on the slate. “So, Interface and Familiar. What's the third one?”
“What are you looking up there?” Nate asked.
“The Scene has a database for known sigil stones and their abilities. With three it awakens your aura, depending on the three stones you have. I can look it up.”
Nate opened his friends list, seeing Zeff had been added. His new aura senses felt only curiosity from him, not any malice. “Let's make a game of it.”
“How so?”
“I want you to guess. Do you have any coins?”
“What are coins?”
Nate ignored the question, “Dice?”
“Coins are dice?”
“No, do you have any dice?”
Zeff reached into his pack and pulled out a cup that rattled with dice. “Of course! We use them to pass the time on the ship.”
Nate picked up the cup and emptied them onto the table. Ten dice with ten sides spilled out. He picked one up to inspect it. There were symbols his Interface stone translated into numbers he recognized. Each was numbered one through ten.
“I'm going to give you a big clue to start, okay?”
Zeff enthusiastically nodded.
“I'm going to roll a three,” Nate said, activating his Lucky power. With Fuzzball, Terry and now Zeff in close proximity, it cost him nearly nothing to control the roll. The dice read three.
Zeff searched the slate database. “No blurring or color flashes. Must be a subtle ability. Rules out Time, Psychic, and Ghost sigil stones. Could still be a few options. Cooldown?”
“No.”
“Okay, so not Metal or Stone for control of the dice or Wood for the table materials.”
“How many sigil stone types are there?”
“Over 500, for sure. I don't know the exact number.”
Nate whistled. “That's a lot of choices.”
“And many are prohibitively rare and expensive. Do it again.”
Nate picked up two dice. “Both ten.” He rolled as he said.
Zeff searched for longer this time, applying filters and muttering to himself. A confident smile crossed his face. “I've got it!”