Rove
????, The Grey Crown, The Grasping Isle
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/876104022833127448/1076438903562698842/TL2.png]
(Art by Fantastical, Places Beyond, Fantastical Art Licence)
“Eh, guys. We got more goods here.” Came Trïeste’s voice, causing Rove to turn toward her. Having laid her item on the ground, Trïeste had removed the casing around the long item. Aiming the torch’s light at their findings, his mouth fell open. The shimmer of steel greeted their eyes once again. A flintlock rifle, ornately engraved with all manner of symbols and drawings, laid there on the ground. A small container in its stock contained a couple of strange bullets. They were elongated, almost an oval shape, but flattened on one side. And they seemed to be colour-coded: one green, one grey, three yellow, one that had both yellow and black and one that was blue and black. No idea what those colours meant though, nor was there any explanation included with the gun.
Excitedly, he yelped in surprise and looked towards both his companions with a big grin on his face. He couldn’t believe their luck. However, both Trïeste and Ayuen were quite occupied with looking at the musket, disbelief in their eyes. Ayuen’s mouth was slightly open and Trïeste was frowning with her head slightly tilted.
“Is that what I think it is?” Ayuen muttered, so enraptured by the weapon that her eyes almost seemed glued to it.
“I think so. This seems to be a slinger, right?” Trïeste poked the weapon carefully with one finger as if it was going to explode. He stepped backwards, not understanding the hassle.
“Okay, somebody please enlighten me. What in the Arals’ name is a slinger and why are you acting like it can explode any second?”
“You never heard of these?” Ayuen exclaimed, looking at him as if he just killed a cute bunny or something. “Geez… All right, think of these as the precursors of our current-day flintlock rifles. Slinger’s were made long ago by the Tinkers.” Ayuen explained. She pointed around the room. “Which also means we now know for sure that we stumbled upon one of their fabled workshops. The workshop of a race of beings directly made by the Aral of Magic, Hudol, himself. Ah, it really is too bad they were all done in by the Saturation…”
The Saturation. Even he heard that story a hundred times. The event that led to the big mass of liquid magic in the middle of the continent, forming the Night and Dusk of Life over time after that catastrophe. That mass was later dubbed the Arcane Sea. According to the tales, the magic oversaturated the air over the entire world with magic, with it being the worst on the shores of the Arcane Sea itself and causing all kinds of strange things to happen there. In time, that saturation was even responsible for creating the Hybrids, people such as Ayuen. But that took millennia… Which meant that the Tinkers were even older than that. He shook his head.
“I know my general history, yeah. But to think that these Tinkers went extinct before the Saturation boggles my mind. That means that this place is almost ten thousand years old. At the least.”
“Hmhm, sounds about right,” Ayuen said, the corner of her lips ever so slightly turning up. The Pyrn woman seemed in her element, having a field day with this. “The Tinkers were apparently the best craftsmen Lugon has ever known or will know. They had no equal. The items they left behind are sought out by royalty and heroes alike. A slinger like this is one of their better-known inventions. And even though the flintlock rifle is a derivative, it pales in comparison to what a slinger can achieve. It can fire special bullets with either alchemical or magical properties stored within them. Besides firing normal ammunition of course.” Ayuen fell silent, a soft blush on her face as she looked away. “I ehm… Have a bit of a soft spot for firearms. They’re nice.”
Rolling his eyes, Rove couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. A magical, Tinker-crafted rifle. Sounded like it could be useful. And although he’d taken Ayuen for more a bow person than a musket person, she seemed rather taken by the weapon.
“Can you wield it, Ayuen? Because I’m not touching that thing with a three-meter-long stick. I’m not the biggest fan of projectile weaponry. And no offence Trïeste, but you don’t look like the type to wield a gun.”
Trïeste nodded in agreement.
“Nah, I’m gonna pass on this one. Guns, aren’t really my cuppa tea.”
Both his and Trïeste’s gaze shifted towards Ayuen now, who looked to the slinger and back at them, a twinkling appearing in her eyes.
“I am somewhat proficient in the use of rifles. The firing mechanism of a slinger is similar for the most part, so I shouldn’t have any problem using it effectively.”
“Great, so that’s one weapon replaced.”
“I still would like to acquire a bow later on though. Just in case I need to fire shots more quickly.”
“That’s fine.” He said, waving Ayuen’s comment away. “But by the looks of it, there are precisely zero bows around here. Anyway, next item. Let’s hurry it up.”
He pulled the weapon out of its scabbard. It slid out smoothly, but something in the scabbard whirred and buzzed, giving him a small scare. Giving the scabbard a suspicious look, he examined the blade itself. His fear faded as he found himself mirroring Ayuen’s enthusiasm. The blade was made of folded steel and in prime condition to boot. The hilt was unusually wide and bulky at the blade’s base, with a strip of dark metal running up from it over the blunt side of the blade. He took a practice swing to test out the balance. In addition to discovering that the balance was near perfect for a weapon of this make, a strange sound whirred from the hilt of the blade as he swung it. Upon closer inspection, a soft red light flowed over the dark metal towards the hilt, a small gem beginning to glow with the same light. He almost dropped the weapon then and there.
“What the hell? This looks like magic shenanigans. Ayuen, explain!”
Ayuen’s laugh softly echoed through the room. Rove gave her a glare. What if it exploded, hhmm?
“Don’t fret, it won’t set you on fire or anything.” She said, interrupting and finishing his thought. “Crystals can be used to store energy when prepared correctly. My best guess would be that your swing generated some energy and it got stored in the gem.” The Pyrn shook her head. “Now I know why the amulet was put away under lock and key. Even if this place isn’t the Dawn of Life, it contains some exquisite items.”
“You got that right.” Rove hummed approvingly, taking a couple of more swings. Bit by bit, the gem’s glow intensified until it provided a surprisingly bright amount of light. He picked up a piece of the broken bronze dagger, placed it on the table in the middle and gave it a soft tap with his new toy.
…
Nothing special happened. The gem kept glowing, the dagger didn’t break. Not very spectacular.
“Gah, that didn’t work. Well, I’ll figure out later what it does. It’s a wonderful weapon even without any magic whackery.” He carefully slid the sword back into its scabbard. And then promptly dropped the whole thing when a loud grinding sound burst out from within the scabbard. The light from the gem faded and spread to the scabbard, lighting up the symbols on the outside. The grinding continued for a couple of seconds before the light was extinguished and the grinding died down. The three of them had dashed backwards, hiding behind the tables and pillars.
“Did it... it didn’t explode, right?” Damn it, he felt dumb while asking that question.
He frowned at the blade, then looked at his easily frightened companions.
“What in the blazes was that and why did it do that? Ayuen, explain!” He mumbled, peering into the darkness towards the table. Ayuen peeked out from behind the table barely enough that he saw her eyes flashing in the torchlight and her flowing red hair glimmering like fire.
“Look. I do not possess all the answers. Alright?” She said with an annoyed tone of voice. “I do not know why the strange magical blade did the strange magical thing. If I did, I wouldn’t be hiding behind a piece of furniture!”
“Fine, fine.”
Careful and ready to dash away, Rove looked down at the sword. The scabbard just lay there, with no light or anything else out of the ordinary. To his startled mind, it almost felt like it was waiting until it could pounce. Tilting his head and squeezing his eyes, he carefully approached and after a moment of hesitation, he picked up the weapon. No heat, no shock, no anything.
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“Well go on then, Rove,” Trïeste called out from behind the safety of her cover. “Draw the blade!”
He grumbled a bit. Of course, use the Herhor as the test subject. Great. With a deep breath, he readied himself. Tensing his muscles, he drew the sword in one smooth motion, the sound of metal gliding past metal ringing in his ears. Slowly, the sound faded away into nothingness as he prepared for a jolt. Or explosion. Or anything. But there was nothing. The blade didn’t do anything. There was something different about it though. It had a sheen that it had lacked when he had drawn and swung it earlier. As if the sword was freshly oiled.
Rove blinked as an idea popped into his mind. Those grinding sounds, could they have been?…
Turning the sharp side of the weapon up, he examined the blade's sharpness with his thumb. Almost as soon as he touched the sword’s edge, he grunted in pain and surprise while a drop of blood ran down his hand and fell on the floor. The weapon was unbelievably sharp. Blazes, he wouldn’t be surprised if it could slice through bronze in this state.
“Hot damn. Alright, you two can come out now. I think I know what the scabbard does. It’s a sharpener. Makes the thing unbelievably sharp.”
Ayuen was the first to leave the comfort of the table bunker.
“Well, aren’t you lucky? A weapon that’s tailor-made for you. You’re making me jealous. Not that I have anything to complain about, as long as I get that lovely slinger.”
“Anyway, we have one more item to examine.” He said, sheathing the sword again and fastening it to his belt. “Trïeste, this would be yours then. If it does anything useful. A sword for me, a gun for her. And you get the pack.” He said, his tone a teasing one. “Maybe bombs will come out, hm? Something in here is bound to explode.”
Trïeste peeked her head out of her hiding place, slowly approaching it with a skulking gait.
“It’d better! I mean, the two of you got shiny new toys. Better hope that my toy is a useful one, or else we’re going to continue searching through this pile of junk until we found something better.”
They put the wooden travel pack on the ground. Two belts, made of broad straps of glimmering steel chain mail, ensured the back could be carried around easily. The drawers were fastened in place with small straps as well, to make sure they wouldn’t slide open during travel. Rubbing her hands, Trïeste looked at the pack, thinking for a moment to make her choice about which drawer to open first.
“Let’s start with the big one. Come on, show me somethin’ good!”
She opened the main drawer on the very bottom, sliding it open. Curious, he leaned forward to see into the container, mirrored by Ayuen on Trïeste’s other side. Inside the drawer, it was dark, the shadows making it impossible to see what was in it.
“Big guy.” Trïeste motioned at his torch, not taking her eyes off the drawer. “Could y’shine some light here?”
He did what she asked and lit up the drawer. Which extended a good fifty centimetres downward. Blinking for a second, Trïeste raised the thing and looked under it. If you went by the outside, the drawer should have been six centimetres deep at most.
“Oh my. It’s bigger on the inside. Neat!” Excited, the Vysari girl put her hand inside the main compartment before he could stop her and she felt around the space. At one point, her entire arm went in up to her shoulder. It looked quite disturbing to Rove, almost like she was being eaten by a hungry box.
“Wow. It runs to the back a good bit too. I can barely touch the back end. This is a lot of spare. Oh, wait. What’s this? I found something.”
Pulling her arm back out of the pack, she held her price up to the torchlight. A bundle of lavender, its flowers and leaves still fresh. Almost immediately, he smelled the pleasant odour the flowers spread.
“I think I have an inkling what this thing does,” Rove said, taking another whiff of the flowers before Trïeste put them back inside the compartment. “I think this one goes to you, Trïeste.”
“Yeah, thought so.” The alchemist smiled a big grin, patting the pack affectionately. “I think Imma call him ‘Kit’. Like toolkit.”
“You’re giving it a name?” He raised an eyebrow at Trïeste. Was she seriously going to name a backpack?
“Of course! It’s an ancient magical item of untold splendour.” The young woman exclaimed theatrically, raising a hand to the air as if she was in an epic play. “It HAS to have a name. Yours should too, for that matter.”
Rove looked down at his new blade. A name, huh? What kind of name would be fitting for a sword as rare as this?
“Excellent idea, Trïeste.” Ayuen chimed in, her eyes sparkling as the Herhor could practically see the fantastical thoughts bouncing in her head. “I think I’ll name my new acquisition ‘Floryshia’.” The woman lovingly stroked her new armament. Bunch of mad women, both of them.
“Means blossom in Cloud Speech, the native tongue of my people.” The poët continued. “Like how the fire blooms from the barrel when you fire a bullet from a musket. What about you, Rove?”
“Ehm. Well, I think I’ll go with something simple and catchy. So… Stormgrinder? You know, due to the sound it makes”
Both his companions looked at him like he was an idiot.
“Rove. It’s a sword.” Trïeste shook her head. “It doesn’t grind storms. You can do better than that!”
“Don’t give a damn. ‘Stormgrinder’ sounds plenty imaginative to me, so I’m going to call it just that. Nice and intimidating too.”
“Rove, if you have imagination, you should attempt to come up with a type of name that makes a bit more sense for a magically enchanted blade.”
“Nah, this is fine.” He folded his arms over each other, making sure not to burn himself with the torch. “It... is... fine.”
“Well, you’re the one using it. Just don’t blame us when you get called out for that ridiculous naming sense of yours.”
Rove just scoffed and walked towards the stairs, not deeming the quip worthy of responding to further. He held Stormgrinder in one hand, torch in the other and the sheath was lodged in his backpack for the time being. Enough time was wasted here, they had to move. He had indulged his companions in their little naming ritual, now they had to continue. Fortunately, they had the bloody sense to follow him.
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They descended further into the depths of the Tinkers’ workshop. The further down they ventured, the more became obvious that this place had seen some violent action somewhere in the distant past. Pieces of the ceiling and floor had collapsed due to unknown impacts, but the surrounding stone was still sturdy and mostly whole. At one point, a huge scorch mark adorned the wall, a lighter area outlining a vaguely humanoid shape within it. The contents of the workshop began to shift as well. Most of the equipment they found was too big to haul with them or bolded to the wall and floor. A solid granite throne that removed any trace of fatigue when Ayuen sat in it, a big cauldron that immediately boiled the contents of his waterskin and a strange tap in the wall that produced crystal clear water were just some of the examples.
In one room, what seemed to be a destroyed alchemical lab of sorts, they found four decahedron-shaped stones. Each one was as big as a hand, and after poking them and making sure they didn’t do anything harmful, they picked one up. Turned out they glowed brightly in vivid colours. Interesting thing was, the light differed from person to person. Ayuen’s glowed a spring-like green, his stone glowed a smooth yellow and Trïeste’s glowed a dark purple. They each kept one to use as a torch and stored the remaining specimen away in Trïeste’s new storage box.
The walls were covered with increasing numbers of burn marks until even the dust beneath their feet seemed darker, thick with ash. Degraded metal remains were mixed in with piles of ash and crumbled wood in one of the lower chambers. Whatever happened here, it hadn’t been pretty. After a handful of rooms, the stairs stopped spiralling down. They shifted into a broad corridor that slowly sloped upwards. With no other way to go but forward, Rove led his companions through the darkness, their multicoloured crystals lighting the way. Eventually, they stumbled upon a big rectangular room, with a gate visible on the other side. In stark contrast to the rest of the rooms, there was no debris here, nor was there any sign of old furniture or equipment. The only noteworthy sight was a huge circular mosaic with complicated patterns that took up the entire room’s floor, extending from wall to wall. It felt like an entree hall of sorts. Rove’s eyes swept the room from top to bottom before he stepped forward.
“That gate should lead outside I’d imagine.” He spoke up. “It looks like this room could be a main entrance.”
Their steps echoed through the space while they traversed the intricate mosaic. But just when they reached the middle, a light sprung to life around them, following the lines of the mosaic itself. Rove felt his blood drain from his face and he swirled around, adrenaline starting to pump through his veins. He started dashing towards the two women, their eyes widening when they realized the source of the sudden light.
“GET OUT!” Was all he could say before a bright flash of yellow light enveloped the three of them. Grunting, he covered his eyes with his arm and braced himself for impact. He waited for a good ten seconds, but nothing. The impact never came. He opened his eyes and looked around. The light had faded, and both Trïeste and Ayuen were blinking their eyes, looking as confused as he felt at this moment. He quickly checked his body, but he couldn’t find anything. Scratching his head, he turned towards Ayuen.
“You alright, Ayuen?” He asked, checking her over for any burns as well.
“I think I am. Do have to admit, I expect this to hurt more.”
Then Trïeste started wobbling and collapsed to her knees.
“Trïeste!” Ayuen kneeled beside her.
“Just… sleepin’… for a bit… be right… back.” The young Vysari mumbled, and she collapsed fully, her eyes closing. Ayuen gasped with a deep breath and laid her ear on Trïeste's chest, face away from him. The Pyrn woman kept listening, keeping silent. Rove crouched next to her, worry worming its way into his belly.
“Ayuen? Is she alright?”
No response. He walked around and panic began to set in like an icy clump in his lungs. Ayuen’s eyes were closed too, fast asleep with her head resting on Trïeste’s rising and falling chest. Looking around frantically, he tried to think of a solution. However, slowly but surely, he felt a cloudy drowsiness slowly fogging up his mind. This couldn’t be happening. They had been so close. They’d escaped Prado’s forces and even got some new equipment. They’d finally lucked out and gotten a new lease on life and success. With everything that he had, he fought against the encroaching dizziness, trying to push it back and out of his head. But like a foreboding fog rolling in, there was nothing he could do. His thoughts became sluggish as he collapsed on one knee first, then the second. The last emotion that he felt was regret and anger. But even those volatile emotions did nothing to slow down the inevitable. A couple of seconds later, he felt his cheek colliding with the cold tiles of the mosaic. The yellow light of his light source faded as it rolled out of his hand and clicked across the floor. As his mind drifted into dreams, his eyes closed and the sounds of the two sleeping women near him faded away.
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