As they helped Doran dismantle the encampment and load it onto the strange tentacled creature's cart, Rep and Stick couldn't help but feel a sense of growing unease. This world was proving to be far more dangerous and unpredictable than they had initially thought. They glanced at each other in silent understanding, realizing they would need to rely heavily on their training and each other in the trials to come.
"Alright, let's move out," Doran said, clapping his hands together once everything was secured. The tentacled creature, which Doran had referred to as an Octow, gave a low, unsettling gurgle, its eyes flashing in acknowledgment- getting this close to the extremely alien creature, Rep had noticed it also had seven eyes, like Doran. Rep had a suspicion that asking if they were related might be offensive, so they resisted the urge.
As they began their journey, Rep finally asked the question that had been nagging at them. "Doran, you mentioned the Weeping King. Can you tell us more about him and his Inquisitors?"
Doran glanced back at Rep, his brow furrowing slightly. "Ah, the Weeping King. A fascinating yet terrifying figure," he began, his tone unusually somber for the short time Rep had known him. "He's been the ruler of Atherium for as long as there has been an Atherium, or so the story goes. His reign has brought order but at a steep price. The people are tightly controlled, and any defiance is met with severe punishment. And if you aren't Spellborn?" He shook his head ruefully.
Rep leaped on the leading question. "What's a Spellborn?"
"Men and women woven with magic, created by the Weeping King. They're the most dominant race here, in this Atherium. Though they tend to stay on Hollow and occasionally the surrounding islands like this one. That up there-" He pointed up at not-Neptune, the celestial body still hanging in the sky, unmoved. "Is Hollow, the planet of the Weeping King."
That sent a shiver down Rep's spine. "Aren't we really close then?"
"Hmm? oh yes, very. Quite a dangerous spot to be in for a storm thief and something the storm dropped." He turned a charming smile to Rep., And despite the stress, they couldn't help but smile back. Was that the first time someone had smiled at them?
"A storm thief? Because you came to the site of the mana storm?"
"You're quick. Yes, because I came to steal whatever debris landed here. It's a much better title than smuggler."
Rep cocked their head to the side. "But we're going the wrong way from the storm site- where the factory landed."
He smiled tightly, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the storm site- a direction, Rep noted, they hadn't pointed out to him. "I acquired a handful of things already, and I hope to trade with you. Some of what I have for what you carrying and wearing- but you seemed to need my help more than I needed the debris. What kind of man would I be if I left a pair of children to fend for themselves against inquisitors?"
Rep frowned. "I'm not a child; I was in service for ten years as a Replicant before they made me a Replicator five years ago."
"Oh? My apologies, a young woman then. Is your brother here older or younger?"
Rep paused. Woman? Did he think she was a girl? Was she a girl? And why was Stick a boy when they looked practically the same? They shook their head. "about 10 hours?"
Doran nearly tripped. "I'm sorry, I think my spell.. was wrong somehow; ten years?"
"Hours." They- She? Corrected.
Doran looked between the two rapidly. "The mana storm had come and gone since then... are use his mother?"
Rep blanched, though doubtlessly Doran didn't notice the minute change in their pallid complexion. "No! No? I made him- but I didn't birth him!"
Doran gave a hearty laugh, his seven eyes twinkling with amusement. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have. I forgot that you are... synthetic, a golem?"
"A Replicant." Rep spoke warily.
"Don't be afraid; I have no prejudice against the crafted species. There's a Forged in my crew if you wish to interact with some distant cousins." He saw their question before they asked it, "Armor made animate with magic- ask him for my details, the story of the forged is not mine to tell." He changed topics. "Tell me; you made Stick so quickly? Was he nearly finished already when the storm hit the two of you?"
Rep shook her- their? Head, they wanted a break to ask why they were a she and Stick he in the eyes of this creature. "No, I had to kill a Scoreblade- I Scoria, I mean, and ate it. Then I ate some moss; I had enough calories to make him between the two."
"You made Stick from a Scoria corpse and moss?" He turned a disbelieving eye to her, then Stick. "Strange magic. How often can you do this?"
Rep shrugged, answering him quickly so they could ask the questions they wanted to. "Whenever, always, so long as I have enough food to eat. The richer is calories, the better. Why do you think I'm a she?"
That question, or maybe the answer just before it, seemed to put Doran in an oddly good mood. He answered her question as if he wasn't entirely focused on it. "You created him; I'm sorry. Are you a boy, young Rep?"
They shook their head. "I don't think so?"
"Then you're a girl." He said it so matter of factly that Rep felt they couldn't argue- what did... she... know about this sort of thing anyway?
"Why is Stick a boy, then?"
"He strikes me as a very stoic young man, but perhaps that's his age." He turned to Stick. "Are you a boy or a girl, Stick?"
Stick looked at him and shrugged without a word. And Doran hummed thoughtfully. "Can Stick create other Replicants like you can?"
Rep shook her head. "No, only Replicators can. And Stick is a Replicant."
Doran was silent for a moment, allowing Rep a moment to think about her new modifier for her identity. "By my reckoning, if you're the one who makes more of your race, that makes you a mother. And if he cannot- then he is the male. I think I was quite on the money."
Rep thought about it a moment longer but eventually shrugged with a small nod. That made... some kind of sense. Okay, Rep was a girl, a mother, though that felt like an intense way of putting it. And Stick was a boy. She frowned; this had felt nice to talk about, to sort out something that had been annoying her- or to have someone sort it out for her, as it turned out. But hadn't she had other questions?
"Oh right," Rep suddenly said, "What about these Inquisitors?"
"The Inquisitors..." Doran began, his jovial tone from earlier darkening considerably- his tone did seem to shift dramatically and easily. "They are the Weeping King's enforcers. Spellborn, like most of the population of Hollow, but...different. They are imbued with even more power- the Weeping King's storm mana, capable of feats of magic that would make even the most formidable Spellborn cower in fear. They are the hand of the King, ensuring his laws and his will are enforced throughout Atherium."
"And they're here, on this island?" Rep asked, worry tingeing her voice.
"I fear so," Doran confirmed. "The mana storm would've drawn their attention. Anything with that much power usually does. And if they discover the two of you..." He let the sentence hang ominously in the air. He already explained, after all. Death or imprisonment.
The group fell silent after that, each lost in their own thoughts. For Rep, this world was becoming more and more complex by the minute, filled with dangers and mysteries she barely understood. But she felt a small flicker of comfort in the fact that she wasn't alone. She cast a glance at Stick. The 'boy' who had been in existence for mere hours yet who stood by her side without question. At her core, she knew that she would do whatever it took to keep him safe. As for Doran, the enigmatic alien who'd saved them and was now leading them...she didn't know him well, but she felt a growing sense of trust. He'd already helped them so much in information alone, and while Rep didn't dare speak it aloud, in case it discouraged him from helping them, she was pretty certain that if he was caught sheltering her and Stick, He'd get in a lot of trouble. All this, and he hadn't even asked for anything yet. Merely alluded to wanting to buy a few jumpsuits from Rep.
As they continued their journey to Doran's boat, Rep felt a new resolve solidify within them. This world was perilous and ruled by a potentially oppressive power. But this man had helped them- put aside his quest to loot the factory to help Rep and Stick out at no gain to himself- She owed him.
As they traveled on, the terrain changed gradually from the dense forest they'd initially found themselves into more of a coastal area, with sandy dunes and the occasional craggy outcropping. The Octow's movement remained consistent, the segmented legs moving in a mesmerizing rhythmic pattern if you watched it for too long.
The sight of the ship was unexpected, surreal, and, given the circumstances, slightly frightening. It looked like a boat from Rep's own world might, but it floated in the sky instead of the sea- why was there sand on the beach if there was no water, Rep frowned, She was pretty sure you needed water to have sand. But she must be wrong, because there it was with not a drop in sight. The sand bank led off the island in the abyss of the sky, almost looking like a strange cliff face. This direct hollow was gone, and the sky was simply filled with other islands, distant stars, and clouds.
The hull of the ship was a combination of wood and what looked like intricately worked metal, gleaming in the light of the Hollow overhead. The sails were large, shimmering like a misty mirage, and the figurehead was carved into the likeness of some mythical creature Rep didn't recognize.
Rep's eyes widened. "Is that...our ride?" she asked, turning to Doran. She couldn't keep the awe from her voice.
Doran, for his part, seemed pleased by her reaction. He gave a small, approving nod. "Yes, that's the Wolfgang. Isn't she beautiful?" His seven eyes twinkled with a hint of pride.
Stick tilted his head, studying the vessel with the same intense curiosity he'd shown since he'd come into existence. "We...fly?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with a kind of innocent wonder that was infectious. Rep felt a small smile tug at her lips, despite the uncertainty of their situation.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"Yes, Stick," Doran confirmed, "We fly."
Rep took a deep breath, looking up at the ship. Flying. In a ship. Her mind reeled at the thought. They'd never flown before- a sense of excitement stirred within her. Here they were, in a world, unlike anything they'd ever known, about to embark on a journey through the sky. "Alright then," she said, her voice determined, "Let's do this."
"Excellent!" Doran clapped his hands together. "All aboard!" With that, he climbed onto the Octow and made his way up the ramp onto the ship, beckoning for Rep and Stick to follow.
As they boarded the Wolfgang, Rep could feel the sense of trepidation slowly ebbing away, replaced by an odd, but not entirely unwelcome, sense of adventure. She shared a quick glance with Stick, squeezing his hand reassuringly before they followed Doran onto the ship.
"Who are these you've brought us, Doran?" A voice called as they climbed up onto the boat.
"Ah, good to see you, Typist!" Doran greeted the new figure, a tall, humanoid being, as Rep and Stick followed him onto the deck of the ship. This one, 'Typist', Looked as if he had been plucked out of a TV show; he appeared to be a knight, adorned with a great helm and full body metal plate that put Rep and Sticks hodgepodge armor to shame- but the armor was clearly empty, excluding blue veins of energy which ran in gaps of his armor and a pair of glowing spheres resting in the visor of his great helm.
"These two are my new friends, Rep and Stick," Doran introduced them with a sweeping gesture, his other hand casually resting on the Octow's segmented back. "They've had a rough landing here, and I thought we could lend them a hand. Rep, Stick, this is Typist, one of our crew."
Rep gave a small nod of greeting, still taking in the sight of the massive, animated construct before them. The Forged had an imposing presence but didn't seem threatening, at least not in the immediate moment. Stick just stared, tilting his head slightly as he examined the new figure.
"Doran... you know the rules." Typist rumbled in a low voice, eyes flickering between the three of them. "We can't pull people out; the inquisitors will ignore some missing materials, but people? It's too dangerous."
"I know, Typist," Doran replied with uncharacteristic seriousness, "But you didn't see them out there. They needed help, and we were the only ones who could give it. Besides," Doran grinned, his jovial demeanor returning, "Their constructs, and you, of all people, know Hollow's laws on where constructs stand."
Typist gave a sigh, a strange sound coming from his metallic form. "You and your technicalities, Doran," he muttered, shaking his head. But he turned to Rep and Stick, giving them a small nod. "Well then, welcome aboard. Just... try not to draw any unwanted attention, alright?"
Rep nodded, swallowing hard. "We'll do our best. Thank you... for helping us."
After the exchange with Doran and Typist, the rest of the crew came forward to introduce themselves. It was a motley group, different species, as varied and strange as the world Rep and Stick found themselves in.
First came a creature that looked like it was part plant, part humanoid. Its skin was a vibrant green, almost glowing in the light of Hollow, and its hair looked like a mass of ferns. It introduced itself as Virid, the ship's botanist; it spoke with a distant look in its eyes as if it were in deep thought about something else and seemed unphased by Stick and Rep.
Next was a short, stocky being that looked vaguely reminiscent of some sort of mammal. It was covered in a thick coat of fur, with a pair of horn-like protrusions on its forehead. This was Tork, the ship's engineer. He quickly nodded to Rep and Stick, muttering something about keeping their hands off his equipment.
Finally, a tall, slender figure gliding forward rather than walking. Their body was almost entirely composed of water, contained in a suit of sorts that allowed them to maintain a humanoid shape. This was Cascade, the ship's navigator. Their voice was soft and soothing, like a gentle babbling brook. They gave Rep and Stick a wave of their watery hand.
Rep couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie. Not because the people were so kind- infact, they seemed to be keeping Rep and Stick at arms reach. But they seemed to take the idea of Rep and Stick being people as a matter of fact. These were people- creatures- beings, who, like her and Stick, were different, out of place. She looked over at Stick, who seemed to be taking it all in with the same wide-eyed curiosity he'd shown since he'd come into existence.
Once the introductions were over, Doran took them on a tour of the ship, showing them where they would be staying, the galley, the engine room, and the bridge, where Cascade worked their magic navigating the sky. The ship was an incredible work, an amalgamation of magic and technology, something Rep had never imagined.
Despite the peril of their situation, the looming threat of the Inquisitors, and the ever-present unknown, Rep found herself filled with a sense of...hope? Maybe that was the right word. She glanced again at Stick, her companion in this strange new world.
Stick met her gaze, his own eyes glowing softly. His brows furrowed slightly as if he were thinking about something. Rep was about to ask him what was on his mind when he reached out and took her hand, a small gesture, but one that sent warmth radiating through her.
"Protect," he said simply, looking back at her, his gaze unwavering. It was a statement, a promise. Despite his limited vocabulary, Stick conveyed more with a few words than Rep felt she could with a dozen.
Rep felt a surge of affection for the young Replicant. He was right, of course. They would protect each other. They were all they had in this strange, new world. She nodded back at him, squeezing his hand in affirmation. "Together," she agreed.
"Indeed," Doran chimed in, a wistful look on his face as he observed the exchange. "Together. That's the key, isn't it? In a world like this...in any world, it's the connections we make, the people we stand with. That's what gives us strength."
He smiled, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "Welcome aboard the Wolfgang, Rep, Stick. I have a feeling you're going to fit in just fine."
The ship set off shortly after, leaving the island behind. And Rep rested.
Domain of Knowledge: [Teacher Class Acquired]
[Teacher Level 1]
Starting Skills:
Change: Adaptive Curriculum
Dreams: Inspire Learning
[Teacher level 2]
[Teacher level 3]
Order: Classroom Control
----
The two inquisitors followed the tracks, backtracking them to where the trio diverged. The prints were clearly defined and easy to follow; a trail of impressions left what he originally had suspected was a wounded creature and its storm-damaged comrade, but the way the tracks moved- no. Both of the creatures had come out the other side of the storm and the fight with the Scoria unharmed. A deeply concerning thing.
When he found their tracks showing they'd been chased by pair of Scoria, he was relieved. They either won't so durable as to take an additional fight- or better yet, adverse enough to fighting that they'd run from one.
But when he saw the remnants of the campsite? He cursed in every language he knew. "Hurry, initiate. Someone got to them first!"
"Isn't that good? I don't see any blood- they might be friendly if they stumbled across a merchant and didn't fight them?"
"Fool girl!" He yelled at her. "If someone is here, now? They came to raid the storm! And they've taken the most prized possession of all! What do you think will become of our extraplanar guest if some lawless miscreant whispers in their ear long enough?"
She didn't seem to understand but didn't argue as he took off at a faster pace, keeping up with him. As they got closer to the shore, Korvax’s pulse quickened. He could hear the mocking cries of ravens- Ravens? "Damnation! It's a Greyheader!"
That sobered the girl; those many-eyed monsters feasted on their own dead god. Slain by the Weeping King to safeguard the Atherium against it, while they didn't always war with Spellborn, they always hated the Spellborn for the slaughter of their dead god. They broke through the last line of trees, and the beach opened up before them. They were just in time to see a gleaming ship taking off from the shore. Glinting in the late light of Hallow. Its design was heretical, sharp, and angular.
Korvax watched as the ship lifted off the ground, the sand on the beach swirling around it in a violent gust. He was far too far to do anything to stop it, but he quickly uttered a far-sight spell. His breath caught in his throat as he saw his quarry. He recognized the Forged and the dreads of Greyheader; their heads were barely visible, But there was a figure standing on the boat. Small, so pale as to be bleach white, clothed in an orange jumpsuit and covered in armor made from the ruins of the factory he'd investigated. It couldn't have stood more than a handful of feet tall- and... yes! There were two. He saw one ducking just below deck as his gaze turned back to the first still on the deck.
A chill ran up his spine. It met his vision; its face was blank, its eyes devoid of fear at seeing him; it raised a hand as the ship rose higher and higher into the air, the light from its center growing brighter and brighter until it was almost too hard to look at.
Then, It waved, and with a final, thunderous boom, the ship shot off into the sky, leaving behind a trail of light and a cloud of dust. Korvax and Nira were left standing on the beach, staring at the sky long after the ship had disappeared.
Nira was the first to break the silence. "Do you think... do you think they were fleeing from us?" she asked, her voice small against the backdrop of the crashing waves.
"I don't think they even knew we were here," Korvax replied, his voice heavy with regret. He had been so close to learning more, to uncovering the truth about these alien visitors- controlling them before they were made into a danger to his people by whatever vagabonds had discovered them, and now they were gone.
"But they left so much behind," Nira said, her gaze turning back to the forest. "There's still so much to learn."
"Yes," Korvax agreed, a small smile playing on his lips. "And we will learn everything there is to know. We will gather what they left behind and study their technology, their biology, everything. Come, we need to take everything we can."
"We're not getting to the ship to chase them?"
"No, their ship is faster than ours." He rested a hand on her shoulder to comfort her in their shared failure. "We'll get them next time; the hunt will begin soon. But now we need to be preparing our people, just in case."
She frowned because she truly didn't understand. "Weren't there just two? I don't understand Korvax! Why do you sound so worried?"
Korvax shook his head. "You who are young and do not know your history." He spoke forlornly, "Once, there were only two demons."
She went silent at that, but he knew she didn't understand, didn't appreciate it, not yet. Perhaps she would soon- and he hoped she didn't have to.
Korvax and Nira made their way back to the wreckage under the light of blessed Hallow. There was still much to do, much to uncover. Their pursuit may have ended, but their quest for knowledge had just begun. Once a quiet corner of their world, the island was now an epicenter of intrigue, the stage for an interplanar encounter they'd only just missed. But next time, they'd be ready.
They collected everything they could find from the storm site: discarded food containers, bits of the odd material that their clothes had been made of, and even footprints they dried and then cut from the ground. Each clue was precious, a piece of a puzzle they hadn't even known existed until the sky had opened up and tossed these new players onto their stage. Korvax couldn't help but wonder about these otherworldly beings as they combed the site.
"They seemed so... Spellborn," Nira said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Not at all like the demons or other creatures from the old stories." He understood her conclusion; looking at the ruined structure, it did not seem like it had been twisted buildings of demon kind. Rather it seemed like a Spellborn could have worked or lived in whatever this structure had been, though they would have had to slouch often. These new outsiders were... small. And the one who'd waved at him from the ship had looked harmless.
"That's what makes them dangerous, initiate," Korvax said. "Their familiarity, their similarity. It could make us underestimate them and let our guard down. And that could be disastrous."
"But you don't really think they're a threat, do you?" Nira asked, "We're just doing things by the book? We haven't found a single weapon."
Korvax paused. "Until we know, we must prepare for the worst."
In the days that followed, they worked tirelessly to learn everything they could about their visitors. The fragments of technology they'd left behind were analyzed, their footprints measured and documented, and their presence in the Atherium speculated upon- the storms did not always bring the unprepared and the unwilling; sometimes, they were the sources of invasion.
They sent messages back to various orders, warning them of the potential threat and of the strange technology and creatures they'd found.
The responses were mixed. Some were skeptical, others worried. Many agreed with Korvax and Nira's assessment that they had to be prepared for any eventuality. And so, preparations began. Resources were pooled, scholars and engineers convened to study the alien technology, and warriors were put on alert.
Next time, they'd be ready.