The Modron Mutiny
Chapter Seven
Flip
“Spigot, something is very wrong here! I think she wants us to go…”
Hein fought back a growl as a blasting noise could be heard from wherever Spigot was projecting sound from. Hein audibly sighed as he walked over to the party.
“The woman he spoke to, Dolidra the Clockmaker, is the daughter of Pelnis the Clockmaker, one of the higher ups in Automata.” Hein said as he paced back and forth.
“Pelnis is on the Council of Order, and was one of the founding members. The fact he knows nothing is very, very, atypical.” Azra said, sounding almost as afraid as Hein was just a moment ago.
“Well keep in mind, Pelnis rarely talks to his daughter. I don’t think it’s out of meanness or estrangement, he just seems so busy with whatever he does there. I would be a little more concerned, but Dolidra isn’t angry with him, or even view it as a slight.” Hein answered.
“So, what were they saying about the top of the tower? Shouldn’t we go there to disarm it?” Rexi asked.
Hein nodded, then started to walk away to the edge of the room.
“Yes, we do, but if what Spigot just found is true, the mechanisms won’t work. If we have to get to the top though, assuming the modrons know our plan, we can use these.”
Hein pointed up to the ceiling, then down to the floor. On the edges of the room, there were some square holes. Each hole was exactly four feet wide on each side.
“These chutes might go to the top and bottom. I say might, just because we haven’t mapped them all out. Some stop abruptly or empty out into other parts of the tower. We just don’t know where they all open up and go to.”
Rexi looked down into the hole, but saw nothing but blackness. She had seen some rooms with square holes in the walls, which she just assumed were vents. Maybe this was one of them?
Rexi turned away from the hole, and noticed Qresh start to walk up to her. He didn’t speak, but Rexi could sense that he was afraid. Something was wrong here…
A brief look of terror flashed on Rexi’s face before everything turned upside down.
In a magical flash, the Fighting Five were falling from the ceiling, down to the new floor below. Qresh was able to anticipate this against all odds, and had grabbed Rexi before they all fell. Hein commanded his hand to get underneath him, and Azra was hardly aware that he was upside down.
Rexi and Qresh both fell through the vent they were formerly standing above. Qresh shielded Rexi as they both plummeted down the chute. Flashing lights went by as the two raced by some illuminated floors. There had to be an exit in the side of the wall on the other floors. Rexi, realizing the situation, wriggled from Qresh’s grasp and pulled out her sword. Qresh knew what Rexi wanted to do, and answered with a nod. Rexi dug her sword into the wall, as Qresh did the same with his claws. Qresh didn’t have a lot of room to maneuver, but both were slowing down at the same speed.
Rexi kicked as she slowed, and managed to throw herself through the square opening. Rather than being afraid of hurting herself, Qresh was all Rexi could think about as she hit the floor. Rexi bounced once, and landed with a rattling crash. She coughed, and tried to stand, but was still too jarred from the impact.
Before she had time to worry, Rexi heard a crash twice as loud as the one she had made. Qresh had followed right behind her, and had somehow managed to roll and land on his feet. Qresh rushed to help her immediately, as if the fall hadn’t harmed him at all.
Rexi managed to stand with a wince. Her and Qresh looked around at the room they were in. It mirrored the room they had fell so many floors from, only it lacked the additional rooms. How many floors did they fall down? What had happened to Hein and the others? Rexi could only speculate as she waited for her head to stop spinning.
Before Rexi could speak, darkness flooded the room.
************************************************************************
Toenails, ironically, had managed to fall under Theril. The ape absorbed the impact Theril made, and surprisingly didn’t look too injured. In the split second it took for them to hit the ground, Toenails noticed Azra plummet through one of those square holes. Not bothering to ask Theril anything, he leapt through the hole after Azra.
Toenails had managed to fall close to Azra. The statue was still far off, but Toenails soon fixed that. As he fell, Toenails changed back into a dwarf, caused a bramble to appear from his belt, and slung the vine around Azra’s arm. Toenails pulled himself close to the statue as they both dropped down the shaft.
As the two fell, Azra didn’t realize that he was falling. As the dwarf grabbed him, Azra shrieked. He tried to swat Toenails away, but the dwarf wouldn’t release his grip.
“We’s gonna die if ye don’t stay still!” Toenails screamed, trying to calm Azra down.
“No! You have filth all over you!” Azra yelled as he flailed at the dwarf rather harmlessly.
Toenails tried to whip his vine at the exits, but they were falling too fast. With his race’s ability to see in dark tunnels, Toenails could tell they were nearing the bottom of the tower. Toenails, not knowing what to do, casted a final spell.
With a spit-filled blow, Toenails blasted a gust of wind from his mouth. The wind managed to slow his fall enough, but not Azra’s. Toenails felt himself slow, and before he hit the ground, Toenails noticed the floor of the tower was water. Toenails hit the water hard, but not nearly enough to seriously wound him. Azra crashed through the water as if not slowed at all.
Thankfully the water wasn’t too deep, and Toenails had no trouble keeping afloat. Toenails spat out a gout of water and glanced around. There was no sign of Azra above the water. Being a dwarf, Toenails still could see fairly well under the water, and noticed that the floor was the same smooth metal as the rest of the structure.
Toenails, always having one eye half-closed, didn’t have the greatest eyesight, but didn’t need it for this instance. Toenails was afraid at what he would find, and his fears were quickly answered.
Azra Holder had landed in pieces.
******************************************************************************
Theril sat in place, still shocked at what had happened. He now noticed that most of his party were gone. He saw Hein, lying a few feet away with his mechanical hand still. Hein wasn’t bleeding, but Theril really didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Theril had been led to believe that this was the one person that could get him out of this tower alive…but was it?
Theril thought to himself for a few seconds. If maniacs from Mechanus wanted to invade, he really didn’t care, as long as they left him alone. When he wanted to go on this adventure, he only did so for the riches and glory. Theril never wanted to face an invasion force, or get involved in the plotting of an extraplanar madwoman, or monster, whatever she was.
As Theril glanced at Hein, the word madwoman rolled around in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how mad she was. If she was as lawful as the statue, surely, she would spare someone not wanting to interfere with what she was doing. Maybe he could get out of this unscathed.
Theril continued to stare at Hein, then after feeling panic creep up his spine, decided to go try and shake the tiefling awake. Looking down at Hein, Theril could see that he was still breathing. Hein was unconscious. Before Theril could put a hand on Hein’s shoulder, he saw the strange skull, the Mimir, lying just a few feet away.
Theril didn’t know why, but he had a strange feeling that it was somehow watching him. Maybe it wasn’t…maybe something else was…
Theril bolted to one hallway they had come out of. He had to know if he was surrounded. If he was, maybe Hein’s soldiers could help repel some of the modrons. It was worth investigating.
Theril’s answer was rather abrupt. What started as an army of golems and constructs was now just a pile of metallic scraps. The entire force that was inside the hallway had been destroyed by the tower changing positions.
“Were they all like this? Were the modrons destroyed as well?” Theril muttered to himself.
He had to tell Hein. Even if the tiefling couldn’t help, he was the only one Theril knew could help him? Or did he? Theril couldn’t decide.
“You are taking an awfully long time to wake him up…”
The grating mechanical voice made Theril visibly jump. He started to draw his sword, but as he spun around, Theril saw the Mimir skull floating. It was only a few feet away from him.
“Please, I only require a moment…and it is not like the tiefling’s army can protect you now…” The Mimir softly chided.
“Wh-what do you want?” Theril nervously shouted at the floating skull.
Theril was struggling to keep the expression on his face calm. All the years he had spent training in battle, and the even longer ones learning the manners of his people, were starting to mean nothing in the face of certain destruction.
“I want your assistance. I want the statue to meet me face to face…”
Even though the skull had its grating, inhuman voice, Theril knew who he was talking to.
“How do I know that you aren’t going to send the modrons to tear me apart?” Theril shouted.
“That will not happen…if I wanted you killed…I would have summoned them by now…”
Theril stared at the skull in stunned silence. His facade of pride, which was already slipping from how panicked he was, had nearly collapsed entirely at this point.
“…I want to go free…” Theril half-whimpered.
“Go free? You assume I want you captured?”
“Don’t you!” Theril said perhaps a little too loudly.
“Mind yourself…” The Mimir again chided, and slowly turned to the sleeping Hein.
Theril gritted his teeth in terror. He put his hand on his sword and glared at Hein, but Hein didn’t move. The Mimir slowly turned to face him, seeming to forget the sleeping Hein.
“I only want to make right what has been wronged. You are of no interest to me. If you aid me, if you bring the statue to me, I will give you riches and an honored place at my side…”
“How about riches and a way back to the mainland?” Theril forcefully whispered.
The skull floated in silence for a few seconds. Theril didn’t take his hand off his sword’s grip, unable to take his gaze off the thing’s gear-lined eye sockets.
“If that is what you wish, then so be it. Just bring…him…to…me!” The Mimir grated.
“Yes…I shall…” Theril quietly said.
As soon as he spoke those words, the Mimir fell to the ground with a loud clang. Theril cursed in elven. Soon after the skull hit the ground, Theril heard what could only be described as the fluttering of wings. He ran away down one corridor, away from both the sound and the tiefling. Hein was still not moving.
******************************************************************************
“I can’t see a damn thing Rexi!” Qresh Bellowed.
Qresh saw something flying at his head, caught it midair, then saw a line of green fire following it. Rexi’s sword lightly struck the piece of wood Qresh had caught, then ignited the end farthest from his hand. Qresh looked over a Rexi, who was giving him a toothy grin as she finished lighting the torch.
Rexi’s mood quickly soured as she saw Qresh’s unimpressed expression. The fact she could discern it from his usual face spoke volumes about the two.
“Right…we need to find out where everyone went.”
“Mhmm…but we ain’t got no way to do that…” Qresh murmured as his torch turned from green fire to a mundane orange flame.
“Hein can you hear me!” Rexi shouted.
Qresh just looked down at her, and tilted his head. Rexi noticed his confusion, and tried to address it.
“Before, Hein could just speak and get the attention of other people. Maybe we can do it too?”
“If we can Rexi, how’ll we know if the mod-rones won’t hear us?”
Rexi stood in place for a second, then slumped her shoulders.
“Look here…” Qresh growled out softly, “One thing we know for sure is that there devil boy was wantin’ to go to the top o’the tower. ‘fore this happened, the top was fake or somethin’…so I bet that since the floor an’ ceiling switched, the top is on top again…mhmm…”
“We go up top, an’ then we find out what is goin’ on here…” Qresh growled, as he finished his sentence with a sharp beak snap.
“If we go to the top though, we have no way of knowing if Symmette is waiting on us. That and how many modrons are standing between the top and here, and where everyone is!” Rexi frantically squeaked.
“That’s true...mhmm…but we ain’t got no way to know where they is…best thing to do is hope devil boy is headin’ that way. He or his golems can help us…and they is probably goin’ up top too…”
Even in the torchlight, Qresh could see the color draining from Rexi’s face.
“We can’t leave them Qresh! We have to find everyone first and then worry about the tower!”
“Rexi…if we don’t worry ‘bout the tower…then there won’t be no them to worry ‘bout no more…” Qresh rumbled in a quiet and somber tone.
“I will not accept that! We either go all together or not at all!” Rexi screamed.
Qresh slowly turned his head to his right and left, then faced Rexi again before speaking.
“Rexi, them mod-rones from ‘fore…they still probably walkin’ on the sea bed. Maybe they’re headin’ here now…we need to go up…”
Rexi looked afraid, and it was apparent that she didn’t want to argue with her closest friend, but something kept her feet planted. She couldn’t move, and could only twitch to her left and right, frantically looking over her shoulders. Rexi was aching from the fall, and knew that she had suffered some kind of injury, though she didn’t know the extent of the damage.
“I can’t…I can’t just give up…” Rexi mumbled, almost in a daze.
“Modrons or not…we can’t abandon the others…” Rexi half-whispered before she noticed Qresh throw up an opened-palmed hand. It was like he was afraid someone would hear them. Qresh was aware of a presence in the room.
The tortle spun around, pointing the torch like a weapon down into the darkness of the corridor. Before the torch stopped, two pairs of eyes reflected the light like an animal. Once in full view, the torchlight illuminated Symmette’s skeletal frame, along with a score of modrons that stood behind her. The box-things’ eyes didn’t blink in the torchlight, and all were focused on Rexi instead of Qresh.
“But surely you cannot save them all dear.” Symmette chided as both faces grinned.
The torchlight made her gums look black, and the way so many of her teeth matched made the expressions look even more unsettling.
Even though they were viewing Ailia Symmette in torchlight, both Rexi and Qresh could see how disturbing she looked. The statue did not do her justice, it looked far too regal. Symmette was so thin, it looked like the armor she wore was actually her mechanical skin. Normally, armor this tight would look form-fitting, but Ailia had no form to speak of. She looked emaciated to the point of being ill, or even near death for that matter.
Symmette’s arms and legs were the exact same length, which coupled with her broad shoulders, to accommodate both heads, looked wrong. The woman’s six-fingered hands were much too long. Rather than gloves, the armor formed a sort of loop around the center of her fingers while covering her palms. Her fingers curled like the legs of a dying spider, as her hands snaked to the two shortswords sheathed at her sides.
Rexi was now too determined to fight, and was no longer focused on Symmette’s monstrous appearance. She readied her sword, but noticed that Qresh looked far too relaxed. He was holding the torch closer to his side, and Rexi could tell that he was confused, even though his face showed the same look it normally did.
Before speaking, Qresh tossed the torch a few steps ahead of him to his left. Its glow kept the scene illuminated as Qresh started to grip his knuckles.
“So…why’d you get all bent outta shape when I called you ettin, but not when devil boy said you’s formed wrong…?” Qresh asked with no iota of fear in his gritty voice.
The eyes of Symmette’s left head both twitched. One head looked shocked, while the other looked enraged. The heads acted like they were about to talk over one another, but stopped shortly before mouthing a word. Instead, both gritted their abnormally perfect teeth, and the monster’s arms grabbed the swords.
“As if I should explain anything to a dull-witted brute like you! I’m on a sacred mission, and you won’t soon forget it!” Symmette screamed, as the overly-proper tone faded from her voices.
She sounded just as insane as Hein had implied.
Qresh still didn’t draw his weapon, or even react to this.
“Who in the Hells are you…?” Qresh growled.
Symmette charged before the modrons could react. She screamed, with both voices sounding supernaturally loud and out of synchronization. She swung her shortswords in a dizzying flurry as she charged, and would have cut Qresh several times, had Rexi not intercepted her.
Rexi didn’t parry the attack, but just put herself in between Qresh and the monster. An invisible shield had absorbed all the sword strikes, but Rexi noticed that the woman’s matchstick arms held more strength than they should have.
Qresh drew his ragged sword, and quickly positioned himself opposite of Rexi. Symmette stayed in the center, and though she still looked enraged, didn’t attack. The modrons didn’t advance, but instead formed a perimeter around the three combatants. This wall of modrons was a perfect square that left enough room to fight, but not enough to run.
Symmette pointed both swords out, one at each opponent. Each head, now speaking in perfect harmony with the other, addressed Rexi and Qresh as Symmette gently turned her body. As she spun, Rexi and Qresh followed her. The three were slowly moving in a circular pattern.
“You really should not fight me right after the tower was moved into position. I can smell blood on the gnome. The reptile has only seconds to spare before he will be torn asunder. Just lay down your arms, come peacefully, and let us all be reacquainted with our allies…”
Symmette smiled again, only this time the madness on her faces was more exaggerated…more real. They had all been warned, but seeing something like this for the first time was always jarring. The Fighting Five had dealt with people a little deranged, but none of them had actually been around an actual psychotic.
Rexi was starting to realize how wrong she was; everything Hein had said was true, and they ignored him! This woman really was a monster, she was going to do something horrible to Faerun…
Symmette continued speaking and Rexi thought to herself.
“Being reunited…that and more, I can make you all better! Is that not something you would want? Do those terrible teeth not disturb you?” Symmette franticly shouted at Rexi.
Though both spoke at the same time, Rexi felt like the head meeting her gaze was specifically addressing her.
“And you, those horrid spikes…every scale out of place, and every patch of grime and filth…how do you wake up every morning and not want to skin yourself!” Symmette screamed at Qresh, much in the same way she previously spoke to Rexi.
Qresh, however, was still looking at Symmette as if he didn’t believe anything she was saying. He certainly looked ready to fight, but Rexi felt like he didn’t realize the situation they were in.
“You ain’t gonna fight as good as the statue…an we could probably stop him if we tried…you fightin’ both ‘o the Fightin’ Five…” Qresh growled out before stepping in to swing.
Qresh, though large and heavy, was not a slow fighter by any means. He moved shockingly fast, and though he often took time to calculate his strikes, he rarely overswung or attacked rashly.
This swing caused Symmette to throw herself backwards, yet not move her feet. This caused Qresh’s swing to miss her completely. He swung over Rexi, but stopped and drew back his sword before it got too far out. Even while bending backwards, Symmette kept her sword in a readied position on Rexi’s side. Symmette threw herself back up in a fraction of a second.
Rexi swung up at Symmette, hoping the strain from moving up would throw off her defense. Symmette’s arm that had her left sword pointed at Rexi deflected the blade. Qresh struck as Rexi’s blade was parried. Though she parried the attack in the same manner as Rexi’s, the strength behind Qresh’s swing pushed Symmette into turning.
Instead of being thrown off balance, she spun more rapidly in place. The spin was combined with two swings at both opponents. The sword connected with Qresh’s shell, and cut through it without any trouble. The cut wasn’t deep, but was enough to force Qresh to step back. Rexi parried the swing aimed at her, but noticed that it was followed by a lunging stab as Symmette stepped in after Qresh was thrown back.
The shortsword moved supernaturally fast. Rexi parried the blade, but felt the tip ring against her armor, just a few notches above her chain-guarded armpit. Rexi tried to counter, but Symmette dove back, as she lunged in to strike at Qresh. The sword tip was knocked away by his blade, but a flashing spin caused Qresh to take another cut to the chest.
As she spun, Rexi narrowly ducked from a sword swipe at her face. Rexi only now realized she didn’t have her helm on, and felt the blade tip run through her hair. Rexi honestly didn’t know if it had connected to her scalp or not.
Both Rexi and Qresh quickly realized that it was as if they were fighting two opponents. This woman did not fight like a magistrate, or a scholar, but held skill that was impossible to guess by looking at her. She moved so quickly, and so well calculated, Rexi knew that if her or Qresh didn’t do something different, that one of them was going to be injured past the point of defending themselves.
Almost as if reading Rexi’s mind, Symmette stopped lunging and spinning. As the woman’s slightly raised heels clicked together, both Rexi and Qresh hesitated, though Qresh probably did the smarter move. He moved back a step.
Symmette, in a blur, crossed her arms and actually threw both swords just outside where she had placed her feet. Though they didn’t stab into the metal floor, somehow, they balanced on their tips, and kept their angular positions. Though what followed happened in less than a second, Rexi saw Qresh swinging his now glowing sword down at the monster.
The sword blade was met with Symmette’s palm. A barrage of missiles shot out of both hands, and pelted both Rexi and Qresh. The blasts managed to throw off Qresh’s strike, and cause him to stagger. Rexi felt the force of the blows hammer through her armor, and made her quickly realize that now she was much more injured than when she had fell. Once Symmette had finished, Rexi saw Qresh swinging again.
This maneuver had a cost, however, as when Rexi stabilized herself, she saw that Symmette was somehow now holding both blades, which were in a sort of “X” block. She must have remotely summoned the blades back to her hands, a technique Rexi had seen before. The blades were trying to hold back Qresh’s sword…and not just that. Ailia Symmette was bleeding.
Symmette had a cut near her right collarbone, and the cut had penetrated her armor without much trouble. One of the strange things Qresh could do was make his old sword cut like a powerful magic weapon. Rexi had no clue how, because it wasn’t enchanted, but when he did it, few survived. Symmette was on a short list.
Symmette pushed Qresh’s sword away and leapt back as the tortle’s magical blade sliced deep into the metal floor. Qresh lifted the sword out of the cut metal floor with no trouble, and before he charged, Rexi tried to intercept Symmette.
Again, as if she could read minds, one of Symmette’s heads turned to face Rexi. A bronze-colored shortsword shot out, which Rexi parried, but the spin caught her off guard. Symmette spun as she batted away Qresh’s strike, and managed to cut Rexi above the cheek, and Qresh in the neck.
The wound Qresh took was deep, but he didn’t stop fighting. Rexi leapt back, and said a silent prayer that Qresh wouldn’t be overtaken. Rexi started to chant as Qresh swung a claw at Symmette. His hand was quickly cut, but it drew attention from his sword, which connected with her side. Symmette managed to dodge again, but not before leaving a small trail of blood as she went. The blood briefly caught Rexi’s eye in the torchlight. It wasn’t entirely red, and looked too clear, even in the darkness.
Rexi could feel her spell nearly finish. She started to mutter the lone word that would sear Symmette with enough rays of fire to hopefully take her out of the fight. Symmette shrieked, again out of sync, and interrupted Rexi’s casting with a spell of her own.
“Tendere Umbra!”
Rexi felt herself being choked by whips of shadow. Her rays of fire blazed up at the ceiling, which was all Rexi could see as she felt completely immobilized. It was as if ropes held down every part of her body.
Rexi heard a snap, and knew that Qresh had broken one of whatever magic Symmette had used to restrain them. Rexi next heard a grunt, followed by sounds of clashing steel, which made her worry about how far Qresh had gotten.
The tendrils slowly constricted around Rexi, which caused her unseen wounds to become even more apparent. Rexi fought against the spell, but no matter how hard she forced her arms out, the magical binds did not relent. Rexi had never heard, or seen, a spell like this before. Summoning black tentacles was a totally different spell, one that Rexi had broken out of before. This was something else, and the spell-speech was something totally foreign to the magics Rexi had seen wizards use.
Rexi wasn’t a wizard; as she only had a few select spell she had memorized. Despite this, Rexi knew a fair bit about magic. The spell that was cast on her and Qresh had an aura of darkness akin to necromancy.
Thinking about the nature of the spell was the only thing Rexi could do to stay calm. She was slowly being constricted by some alien magic, and as if the spell could somehow read her mind, Rexi felt the tendrils emit a stream of energy. Whatever it was, it hurt, and Rexi couldn’t fight back her cries of pain anymore.
A snapping that shattered the silence caused Rexi to lose focus of her restraints. To her astonishment, Qresh had fully broken free from the binds. Symmette was less than thrilled at this, and tried to attack the tortle before he could ready his defense. Rexi knew that he had been injured, but Qresh fought like he was completely unharmed.
As Symmette charged, Qresh waited until the split second before she got in range. The whole maneuver was so quick that Rexi had trouble processing it at first. It looked like Symmette ran forward, then jumped back. What had actually happened was that, as she dove in, Qresh somehow beat the emaciated woman’s speed. He turned his body to the side, slightly tilted to his back to block one sword, and then twisted back around, swinging his arm out with his body. The force of the blow not only threw Symmette back, but made an audible crunching sound.
Symmette was thrown through her wall of modrons and deep into the darkness. The modrons didn’t attack, being too concerned for their master. Qresh let out a growling sigh, his emotionless face stared unblinking at the spot Symmette was thrown. Despite their being no visual signs, Rexi had known Qresh long enough to tell that her friend was enraged.
The tendrils unfurled and released Rexi. She quickly realized that whatever energy the spell had blasted her with had significantly weakened her. Rexi only stood for half a second before collapsing down to a knee. As she fell, Rexi’s gaze landed on the torch Qresh had tossed on the floor. Rexi could see in the dark, but only to a certain extent. The torch had lit up an area she hadn’t noticed in the combat; there was a nearby chute.
“Qresh!” Rexi shouted, and pointed in the direction of the chute. The square hole was only exposed briefly, but Rexi could tell that Qresh knew what she wanted him to do.
“Do you honestly think that you both can survive this? Do you really think that me, the magistrate of mortals, can be stopped so easily!”
Symmette’s dual voices were so loud, it was as if the metal in the walls vibrated with her shouts. The modrons turned back to their original positions, though this time they left a gap in the darkness. Symmette lunged from this gap at Qresh, this time too fast for him to counter. Her bronze-colored swords cut him in the neck and armpit, but parried his counterattack and didn’t knock away the blade. This was strange to Rexi, as before Symmette tried to dodge his attacks. The tiny woman was, against all odds, able to hold back the giant of a tortle’s sword. She started to speak, but Qresh used his free hand to punch her again. The wind was knocked out of Symmette, who shouted a strange combination of a scream and a growl. It didn’t sound like it was supposed to come from her.
Stolen story; please report.
Symmette jumped back as she was punched, which let her shrug off the brute of the blow. The modrons moved in to where Qresh stood, and all drew pistols. Qresh’s sword lowered a little, but Rexi could again tell that he wasn’t afraid.
“Surrender! Help me reclaim Azra Holder and Hein Slatecutter, and I will grant you both power beyond your understanding!”
Symmette shouted this as if it was a threat, though the wording didn’t make sense to Rexi. Rexi tried to stand up again, which got the attention of the modrons. Qresh turned his head in her direction, then looked back to Symmette with a blank stare.
“You ain’t gonna hurt nobody else…” Qresh growled.
“I will hurt whoever I wish, animal! You cannot give me commands! In case you or the gnome haven’t noticed, you are both entirely at my mercy! All you can do is accept my terms!”
Qresh stared at Symmette, as if he was searching for something. Whether it was in her mind, or a hidden aspect of her fighting, Rexi couldn’t tell. She was surprised when Qresh answered the monster by letting out a laughing growl.
“No, you ain’t…you just think you do…little girl like you gets hit by me once an’ breaks a rib. I hit you again with this sword, these mod-rons won’t have no more orders to follow…”
A wave of fear shot over Rexi like a hot knife. Why was Qresh taunting her? Qresh wasn’t one to be reckless or foolhardy, but it seemed like he was intentionally trying to antagonize Symmette. It didn’t look like Qresh had a plan, at least not yet. Rexi started to speak, before something happened that she didn’t expect.
Rexi expected Symmette to order the modrons to attack, or to tell Qresh the deal was off. Instead, one face looked shocked, while the other one twisted in anger. Rexi had understood Symmette to be so obsessed with symmetry, that each face acted in tandem with the other one. This had happened before, and Rexi wasn’t sure if Symmette’s sanity was slipping, or this was a typical reaction to being overcome with anger.
“Get back! Stand back and do not interfere! I will slaughter this turtle and save its shell as a trophy!”
The modrons all took a lone step back, as Symmette charged Qresh. She was swinging wildly, without forethought, and Qresh was able to easily parry all of her strikes. Qresh attempted to punch her again, but Symmette was ready this time. As Qresh’s fist shot out, Symmette, sidestepped, and met the blow with the point of one sword. The sword tip briefly pierced Qresh’s hand, which caused him to quickly pull back his arm. Both of Symmette’s faces laughed madly, as the other sword intercepted Qresh’s blade.
Rexi thought Symmette would leap back, then counterattack, but she didn’t. Instead, she just kept her blade touching Qresh’s. Qresh tried to strike by changing his sword to a hind-guard in an attempt to swing Symmette’s blade away. Symmette was clever enough not to let that happen, and dipped back only to reconnect her blade again. Qresh again tried to cut her in a different manner, but Symmette again jumped back and reconnected with his sword.
Rexi could tell Symmette was toying with Qresh, and not actively trying to strike him anymore. Before speaking, Symmette let out an overly elated scream as she danced around and clashed her swords with Qresh’s.
“Oh, you poor creature. Your feeble mind really has no idea what is going on here. You are dealing with something so much more than human! Even beyond the talking statue that you two so…”
Before Symmette could finish, Qresh had finally had enough. His next blow didn’t just break Symmette’s guard and elude her deflection, it came down with enough force to cause her to drop her weapon altogether. The blade cut through the woman’s enchanted armor, and went deep into the area below her un-wounded collarbone. Qresh couldn’t force the sword tip in as deep as he should have been able to. It was as if the woman’s flesh was somehow rejecting the blade.
Qresh’s sword slid down, out of the wound and off the rest of Symmette’s armor. Symmette staggered back with a look of shock plastered on both faces. Rexi saw the discarded bronze-colored sword move under its own power back to Symmette’s empty hand, though the hand gripped it weakly.
As Qresh finished the swing, he charged in. The modrons drew and fired their pistols with one fluid motion. Rexi pulled up a magical shield, and covered her head with her hands. She heard another cut, the clanging of a dropped sword, then a loud shout. Symmette shrieked, “NO” and the gunshots stopped.
Rexi peeped out, to see a disarmed Qresh holding Symmette, who was clawing at him instead of using her now sheathed swords. Qresh threw her right into the vent, and the modrons all, almost comically, charged after their fallen leader. The clang of metal was matched with the unearthly growling Symmette had done before the fight started.
Qresh stood in place now dripping with blood. He had been shot several times, and it was difficult to tell how badly the smokepowder weapons had damaged him. Qresh’s hand was still wounded, and cuts crisscrossed both his skin and shell. Even though Symmette didn’t have claws, Qresh had strange, almost glowing, slashes where she had swatted at him. It had to have been more unknown magic.
Qresh’s face still held the not-quite look of silent rage. That all changed when he turned toward Rexi. Qresh’s stone face cracked. He ran over to her, and with labored breaths, tried to help her up.
“Are you alright?” Qresh growled weakly. His voice practically trembled with fear.
Rexi was half-stunned he was still not only able to walk, but act as if he wasn’t injured.
“Me? You look like you’re on death’s door!” Rexi shouted in a trembling voice.
Her large eyes kept darting to Qresh’s various wounds. Every second she looked; a mote of fear crept up her spine. She had to stop, she had to focus. If she panicked, Qresh would certainly die.
“We need to find Hein and get him to heal you! Qresh how are you standing up?”
“Hmm…lemme take a breath…”
Qresh stood silent for a moment, before inhaling deeply. The blood near his nostrils caused his breath to sound wet.
“Mhh…it ain’t as bad as it looks now…I promise…” Qresh growled.
“Still got’s a lotta questions ‘bout ettin girl…”
“I think she’s occupied right now, let’s get you healed up.” Rexi laughed out, now realizing, or hoping, that her friend wasn’t in as bad a condition as she had thought.
Rexi grabbed the torch off the ground, and walked with one hand on Qresh’s side as if to stabilize him. The small woman was only barely able to keep him walking straight. She didn’t fully believe that Qresh was okay, but Rexi wasn’t going to argue with him about it. They had to find out where Hein went.
Remembering how the floors mirrored each other, Rexi guided Qresh to a hall that resembled another one she had seen before. It was a hallway that seemed to lead the farthest away from the center.
“There has to be an engineered way to move people and objects up and down this tower. They can’t totally rely on magic. If I had to guess, I would assume that this tower would have two, or four, parallel staircases to move men…er…modrons, and supplies.”
When Rexi and Qresh got to the end of the hall, they noticed what looked like another smaller room. It stayed dark near the floor even with the torch. Rexi started to walk inside, until Qresh clamped his hand on her shoulder. She stopped, and suddenly realized that most of the room had no floor. It was a box-like stairwell, that formed a sort of square spiral. The stairs had no railings, and the space in between the center was about ten feet wide. Even though there were no machines to lift supplies up, Rexi could tell this was where that sort of work would have taken place.
Rexi didn’t know why, but her first instinct was to go down. If Hein was to search for them, it would probably be from the bottom up. Taking that approach, Hein could make sure he wouldn’t start on a level above where they ended up. Rexi hoped he had a magical way to find them, but she really didn’t know for sure. He had expensive magical items, but said he couldn’t keep teleporting large numbers of people despite using it on himself several times. Hein’s use of magic made little sense.
A shrill voice alerted both adventurers, and it was not coming from the lower sections, but from higher up. Both realized that it was an elven scream a that sounded somewhat familiar. Rexi and Qresh moved closer to the stairwell, with only Rexi entering inside. She kept close to the wall, and could now hear the loud echo. Maybe Rexi and Qresh had fallen farther than they anticipated, as there was no other noise to drown out the rapidly approaching sound.
Rexi pointed the torch up, and felt wind moving towards her. Qresh moved away as Rexi leapt back out of the doorway. A flash of bronze followed, and what appeared to be a winged modron, flew down the hall. It tossed something attached to it down onto the floor, which for better or worse, turned out to be Theril. He looked surprisingly uninjured, and stranger still, didn’t have his sword drawn. Despite this, Theril certainly was enraged.
It took a half second for Rexi to tell that Theril wasn’t hurt, or at least not enough to warrant immediate attention. She darted after the flying modron, and saw it go back to the central room. Right as Rexi entered, the thing turned around and dove in her direction.
It looked just like the box-beings from before, with the wings being the only different feature. The wings were made of thin-framed metal arms, like those of a bat, and had a tightly stitched membrane supporting them. Though one would think that wings like this couldn’t support a metal creature, they somehow did, and well at that.
The modron had no weapons, and was chattering its teeth like the ones from the boat. As it dove, Rexi lunged to intercept it. Despite her condition, Rex was easily able to cut the thing in the center of its face, and deflect it away with an upward sword stroke. It flew up, then crashed to the ground a few feet away. The thing’s wings twitched a few times before its body turned to sparkling metallic dust.
Rexi slowly turned around to see that both Qresh and Theril had followed her to the room. Rexi caught her breath and ignored the soreness of her body. She forced a grin at Theril.
“I’m glad that you’re unharmed. Did anyone else fall with you?”
Theril looked at Rexi with a confused, and enraged, expression. Despite his obvious anger, Rexi was shocked to hear Theril try to speak civilly.
“No, and I was grabbed by that monster right after I realized what happened. It shouldn’t have done that…it wasn’t…”
Theril’s speech trailed off as he kicked the metallic floor.
“Damn these things! Damn this tower! Why are we stuck in this madness?”
“We met Symmette…” Rexi sighed, still trying to breathe normally.
“She is exactly what Hein said she was…a monster and then some. I know Azra will be crushed, but we need to capture her at all costs. After seeing her in combat, it won’t be easy.”
Theril looked over Rexi, then glanced back at Qresh. He had calmed down at the mention of the Fighting Five’s new foe, but still looked on edge.
“Yes, I think that you are right. Perhaps we can force her to face justice and the statue will not intervene. I would not be wise to make enemies of them both.”
Theril glanced back at Qresh, now realizing just how wounded he was. Despite that, Qresh was staring at Theril in an odd, almost accusatory way.
“How’d that mod-rone grab ya?” Qresh growled.
“How? How! How do you think!” Theril screamed.
“You couldn’t jus’ stab it? Didn’t look to be bitin’ ya…?”
“No…if I had done that, I would have fallen to my death you simpleton!”
“You’s was already fallin’, an’ it couldn’t ‘av flew too good in them there stairs…”
“Please, not this, not now…” Rexi weakly shouted.
“We have the whole realms at stake Theril, don’t argue with Qresh. We have to find the others.”
Rexi expected Theril to protest, but he didn’t. She imagined that all the fighting was taking its toll on him. Maybe he was done being difficult, and would actually be helpful.
“Yes…I am sorry. We really need to find the statue and tiefling…tiefling!”
Theril’s long eyebrows shot up in excitement. He ran over to Rexi and grabbed her arm.
“I am certain the tiefling isn’t too far up! When I fell, I landed by him before I was attacked by that machine!”
Rexi shot Theril a toothy grin, then started off out of the room and down a hallway.
Qresh stood in silence, watching the two run off. His face didn’t hold much emotions, but now Theril was added to his concerns, along with the “ettin girl.”
******************************************************************************
Hein woke up with a scream of rage. How, how could she have done this? She had thought up such an ingenious tactic, and one he couldn’t have predicted. He should have asked someone in Sigil about the Pillar of Law; people there had to know something. He went in blind, and searched fruitlessly for modrons, and found nothing. Then, when the modrons came, they destroy gods only know how many constructs in his army, scatter his allies, and…
Hein’s situation didn’t improve upon awakening, as he was not at the tower.
He was on a strange boat, in a waveless sea with two moons hanging overhead.
Hein audibly thanked Moradin, as now he could at least face one enemy in a familiar situation. Hein realized that he still had his construct killer sword. Despite its name, the sword could still cut non-constructed foes. Hein slipped it away into his belt, then flexed his giant mechanical claw. There wasn’t anyone on the ship’s deck, but the light in the cabin was on as usual.
Hein managed to walk quietly, but quickly, to the cabin, and kicked open the door.
“Let’s talk monster!” Hein shouted, not bothering to examine the room as he did.
The man in the black scarf wasn’t wearing his gloves or apron, and for once didn’t have a specimen on the table. His head was turned towards Hein, but his body was facing to the left. Hein’s eyes followed this, and noticed something strange.
Azra Holder was in the room as well.
Holder was in the back corner of the room, and though he looked like the scene disgusted him, he wasn’t as hysterical as Hein would have imagined. He was holding a book labeled “Gate Towns of The Outlands” and was staring wide-eyed at Hein. Azra Holder looked normal, except that he was predicably disarmed, and for some odd reason had glowing markings crisscrossing his stone arms.
Hein glanced around the room to see that all the glass boxes were empty of fish, and the bottles of preserved specimens must have been moved or discarded. The room also looked fairly clean. It appeared that the man in the black scarf had tried to clean the room to placate Holder, something that didn’t make him look innocent to Hein.
“We’re either all monsters here, or none of us are. It has to be one or the other. If me and Azra are monsters for being stone and were-touched, then you are too, Mister Slatecutter!”
The man in the black scarf hissed out the last word directed at Hein, and didn’t seem to be any less angry than him.
“I don’t have time for this retarded blame game, so if you aren’t going to at least try to listen, just go ahead and stab me with that mechanical hand! Kill me if you can! I don’t believe you will!” The man in the black scarf shouted.
Azra’s eyes widened at the mention of the word “kill”, as he quickly took a few steps in Hein’s direction.
“Engineer Slatecutter, please! This good gentleman is just trying to help us all understand what is going on! Look, he even cleaned up this disgusting ship…to a degree! Even though it still smells like urine and strange chemicals, he appears to have earnestly tried…granted the job he did was done so poorly, I would imagine a child could have been better at…”
“Azra, that isn’t’ going to convince him,” the man in the black scarf retorted.
He sounded more concerned than offended by Holder’s remark.
Hein walked rather swiftly up to the shark-like man, going on the opposite side of the table from Azra.
“Before I do that, tell me how Symmette got her creepy hands on some damned weapon that can tear apart reality!” Hein screamed as he pointed at the man in the black scarf with his mechanical hand.
“You know as much as I do Slatecutter! As I’ve told you numerous times, the only way to stop the tower is to find the sword!” The man in the black scarf yelled.
“You lived with them for a long time! Try and remember something!”
The man in the black scarf turned towards Azra, “And you! You lived there for gods know how long! You never once, not one time, heard about this highly integral sword?”
The man in the black scarf turned away from Hein, exposing his back as he shouted at Holder. Hein briefly considered grabbing him, but despite his rage, really couldn’t do it. He hadn’t been attacked, or even threatened, by this man. Even if he was responsible for helping Symmette, he was doing a poor job. Hein felt foolish, and lowered his hand a little as Azra mumbled.
“I-I did not…I do not really…she…we…no…there was absolutely not…”
“I don’t care about your relationship! I’m trying to help save her and anyone caught up in this madness!” The man in the black scarf shouted before turning back to Hein.
“Are you not going to stab me with that claw? That would at least relieve me from it all! The fear of knowing I can’t stop this, because the only two people I can contact won’t work together or tell me anything!”
When the man in the black scarf shouted, his jaw widened into its shark-like form. Seeing it move like that unnerved Hein. He was at a loss of words, but Azra instead broke the silence.
“That is not entirely true, sir. Engineer Slatecutter has agreed to help the adventurers and I on this mission, to stop whatever machinations that tower is designed for, and to find out why Ailia is leading a score of rogue modrons.”
The man in the black scarf looked back at Azra. The grimace that was starting to force his larger mouth apart vanished.
“So far, she only speaks to us cryptically through the modrons, which is something I have never seen her do. Psychic magic was disabled in Automata, so she could not do it there. That may be why I have never seen this used before. However, I do not understand why she would do such a thing.” Azra said rather plainly.
“She is speaking through the modrons because she is using their senses to gather information. This way, she has constant eyes and ears on what is going on. I haven’t got a clue how she can keep track of all those minds, but it makes sense from a tactical standpoint.” Hein softly responded.
“She can do it because she is a genius. Ailia is as intelligent as a mind flayer, probably more so…”
“I doubt that…” Hein muttered at Azra.
The man in the black scarf watched the two in borderline shock. Perhaps because of Hein’s hostility towards the people from Automata, but the scene perplexed him. After his rage subsided, the man in the black scarf spoke again.
“Do either of you two remember a sword of great importance? One that was used to protect the town or wielded by a higher up in the ruling council?”
Azra turned to look at him, “Well, perhaps she meant my sword, Grovelthrash. Before I came here…I had a sort of premonition trying to undo the tower’s mechinations. A mechanical being told me…more or less…that Grovelthrash probably is the sword…”
The man in the black scarf just stared at Holder, slightly leaning with a deadpan-expression on his face.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that when you arrived?”
Azra continued to explain about his sword, being unaware of the man in the black scarf’s frustration.
“It is an artifact level sword, and with it and I missing, she must have thought that Automata was in a less defensible position. Strangely, since I woke up after my exile, my sword has not been acting as it usually does. It keeps me in statue form…which is how I know that it is Grovelthrash, but isn’t here with me now…”
Azra’s eyes widened in fear. He looked over his body, and saw the small glowing lines. First, he tried to brush them off, but this failed. There was one line across his elbow, and two on his left forearm. Azra had another one on his neck, but it was outside his line of sight.
“Ew…I do not want these uneven markings to be stuck to me… Is this because of the chemicals you breathe on that rag?” Azra asked as he turned to the man in the black scarf. The man’s expression was now a mix of worry and anger.
“No don’t worry about it, I’m sure they’ll be gone when you wake up. So Grovelthrash is the sword? I can get you to summon it here.”
Azra kept fidgeting with his arms, ignoring the man in the black scarf.
“Are you certain the chemicals or fish waste didn’t just sublimate and mar my skin? I notice that you always smell of urine…did you perhaps relieve yourself in a fish-pen and forget about doing so?”
For some reason, this angered Hein more than the man in the black scarf.
“Wait…you’re saying that he’s the repulsive one here? You’ve routinely lain with a woman who looks like she came from a sleep paralysis episode! She is a literal walking nightmare that you somehow fell for, and now you’re saying he’s so strange that he pisses in his fish tanks!”
“Please don’t do this…” The man in the black scarf pleaded as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I am not saying he is disturbing because he is some sort of man-fish, or where he urinates.” Holder argued rather calmly, “But because a lot of primes find it acceptable to just relieve themselves on the spot like an animal.”
Hein had no words, and just stared with his mouth agape. Azra managed to take Hein’s reaction as being shocked that what he said was true, instead of being utterly ridiculous.
Azra continued, “Oh yes, much to my horror I have seen primes just stop and urinate on nearby plant life…some not even bothering to do that. Some do so on buildings, on the sides of roads, even on each other for some kind of twisted joke! In fact, most primes lightly urinate in their undergarments after they visit the lavatory. That or they actually fail to remove all the feces when they clean…”
Hein interrupted Azra before he could finish, “You and that freakshow deserve each other! I refuse to believe a sword you carry could save the world! The gods of goodness aren’t incompetent, and wouldn’t allow that to happen…”
Azra’s brow furrowed, “You can insult me, but you must stop insulting Ailia like this if we are to be productive allies.”
“Okay then!” Hein shouted, “You’ve got more shit posing as your brain than any three-toothed peasant leaves in his underwear!”
The mention of that caused Azra to double and try to vomit. Azra started to dry heave, though no sand came out of his mouth.
The man in the black scarf just watched, his rage barely contained, and trotted off to another room in the back. When he returned, he was holding something behind his back, and walked up to Azra.
“Are you done? You can’t throw up here, correct?” The man in the black scarf growled.
“It…it would appear that is the case…why would you do such a thing?” Azra shouted as he tried to rise up to his normal height.
“Summon Grovelthrash here! I’m allowing it! Just concentrate!” The man in the black scarf shouted.
“I-I don not…I cannot bring such an artefact here of all places, look at this ship!” Azra pleaded.
The man in the black scarf smile, and let out a sort of laughing hiss.
“Well Azra, I like you, but you’ve tried my already thin patience for far too long. I don’t know what else to do at this point…so I’m going to do something worse.”
Hein cocked an eyebrow at hearing that comment.
The man in the black scarf pulled out, what Hein knew to be some sort of sea creature. It looked like an elongated, dark brown pickle that was drenched in slime. The thing feebly wriggled as the man in the black scarf gripped it with his boney, partially-webbed hand.
Azra shrieked like a woman, and as he scrambled backwards onto the floor, the man in the black scarf pointed the creature at him like a bent wand.
“If you run, scream, or talk nonsense, I’m going to squeeze this animal. When I do, it will fire out sticky strings at you. At this range I can’t miss. Those strings are much worse than a spider’s web, smell bad, and worst of all, they’re actually this thing’s intestines!”
Azra screamed again, and Hein couldn’t help but chuckle. He was starting to like this man.
“Even worse than that, when I do, they will follow you into the waking world, and will not come off shy of very powerful acid!”
Hein could tell that the last part was a lie, but Azra looked on the verge of tears.
“Listen…good sir…I apologize…I apologize fully for implying you urinate in a…”
Azra had attempted to stand, but was now feebly squatting with his hands up.
“Talk about the sword! Bring it here!” The man in the black scarf screamed. His shout was overtaken by a higher-pitched scream from Azra.
“T-the sword? I-I…I only know what I can remember! My memory was damaged after my exile! Grovelthrash is a scimitar that was a hammer…a-and it can cut through anything… I cannot remember why it is important…I do not remember having it before I was exiled…maybe it was not this sword? Maybe the dream was wrong…but I do not know how it could have been wrong? L-let me go back and I can bring it here?”
The man in the black scarf lowered his “weapon” and smiled, “We’re making progress...”
Hein commanded that his hand detach, and it scurried outside as he walked over by the man in the black scarf.
“So, if you didn’t have the artifact while you were exiled, then this sword wasn’t in your possession, correct? If that’s the case, the dream is probably wrong…and I’m right. Maybe it was another ceremonial one?” Hein asked Azra, who was still squatting with his hands up.
“I remember every single ceremony, routine, and procedure I performed while in the perfect city, and none involved a special sword!” Azra screamed, though now he was sounding less scared and more demanding.
“Well, when she sent me that message, it said to find you specifically.” The man in the black scarf said as he took a step away from Azra.
“What did she say in her message?” Hein asked.
The man in the black scarf signed, then looked at the strange creature in his hand. It didn’t look to be harmed, and wasn’t wriggling much anymore.
“Maybe “say” isn’t the right word to use. It was less of a conversation, and more like my head was hit with a deluge of information in the span of a few seconds. Broken images that made no sense, and I couldn’t really find out how they connected.”
Hein raised an eyebrow, “Really? Now that is fascinating. I’m not a psion, but she had to have disabled whatever she used to keep psychic magic from working. Maybe that’s why it was so indirect. What did you see?”
The man in the black scarf thought for a moment, before shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head.
“As ironic as this sounds, it was like a dream. I saw what I figured to be her home, Automata, and a kid with weird eyes. Pupils like a cuttlefish. That one made no sense, but it was the clearest. After that, it was flashes of death, bloody melees maybe? I remember hearing a roar like a great cat, and seeing a river that looked like it was in a strange swamp. I saw a tall clockwork thing…not a modron…maybe an inevitable, and it was fighting something I couldn’t make out. After that, it was darkness. Darkness and the voice.”
The man in the black scarf looked down at Azra, “The only words she spoke were, “The Sword of Automata has been lost! Azra Holder must be contacted!”
Azra looked up, then slowly rose from the floor, “I am sorry, but that does not make any sense. I honestly do not remember such a sword being so important.
“Maybe I can…” Hein said.
The man in the black scarf grinned, almost comically. He also must have squeezed the pickle-thing in his hand too. When he looked over to Hein, the thing shot out a gout of small, wormy strings. The white filaments blasted all over Azra’s legs, causing him to shriek.
The scream frightened the man in the black scarf as well, who dropped the thing, then ran to pull the strings off of Azra.
“Sorry I didn’t mean…it just hap…don’t panic…don’t panic! It’ll come off just let me…”
As the man in the black scarf tried to remove the fibers, Azra’s legs fell apart. One leg hit the floor, then the other one did in two pieces. Azra stopped screaming, his face went blank, and then he came apart at every glowing line on his body.
Once this happened, Azra Holder vanished from the boat. The man in the black scarf had a look of horror on his face, while Hein just looked annoyed.
“Don’t worry, if he’s somehow come apart in the real world, I highly doubt a construct like him is dead. Besides, we know now that he can’t help you find this sword.”
The man in the black scarf was still in stunned silence. Hein heard his detached hand audibly move out of the doorway, and the dwarven boat pilot entered the room.
“Aye, that be disturbin’ indeed,” Captian Saltrock said as he glanced down at the spot Azra once was.
“Listen,” Hein told the dwarf, “I can give you our coordinates. If you want to help stop this madness, you can meet us at the tower.”
Hein gave the captain the location of the tower in words the man in the black scarf didn’t understand. It was some sort of navigation terms, but the man in the black scarf was more worried he had just killed Azra Holder with a sea cucumber.
“Are, are you sure he isn’t dead?” The man in the black scarf asked Hein as he spoke with the captain.
“Not entirely, but he told us his sword keeps him from being fully petrified. Petrified people can be reassembled and turned back into flesh without issue, so long as they’re still stone when the pieces are attached. I imagine it works the same for him, but he stays stone. Must make him damn near impossible to kill.”
The man in the black scarf still looked afraid, but now looked less devastated. He picked up the sea cucumber, ran out the door, then threw it overboard before appearing inside again almost immediately.
“If I send you back, can you get Holder to come here with his sword?”
Hein signed, “Unfortunately not. I lost track of Holder in the tower. Even if I find him, I don’t know why he can’t bring his weapon here. You can’t get this place clean enough, I know that much for sure.”
Hein shook his head, then looked at the man in the black scarf.
“That isn’t your main problem though. Trusting a vague vision may not be enough. I doubt the people who run crazy town would declare some random sword so integral to their city, artefact or not. I think that it may be some specific sword in Automata.”
“Do you think you can remember if there was a sword like that in Automata? Maybe it wasn’t in use, but in a storage room or something?”
As Hein stopped and thought to himself, the man in the black scarf’s eyebrows perked as if he remembered something. He ran over to a small cupboard, and pulled out a tiny cloth bag. After reaching inside it, the man in the black scarf pulled out some dried leaves crushed into a powder.
“Breath this in. It’ll put you to sleep, but make your memories more vivid. I used it to find this place. If you go over a certain memory, as you relive it, you will start to remember things you may have forgotten.”
Hein smiled; the slightly off-white color of his teeth looked somewhat demented in the ship’s yellow lighting.
“All right then. So I go to sleep, and you just want me to write all this down in a dream journal or something? You mean that you don’t already have a way to spy on me?”
The man in the black scarf blinked, clearly confused. Hein just chuckled.
“I propose you use whatever form of dream magic you’ve been using to learn about us…and don’t deny it. You knew more information than just talking with that multi-headed monstrosity could have gotten you.”
The man in the black scarf was silent.
“So, I’ll let you probe my thoughts, and with my sharp memory, maybe you can find something. If not, we probably won’t waste too much time, because I’m pretty sure I’m out cold right now and the others are trying to scramble back and regroup.”
“What happened…?” The man in the black scarf half-whimpered.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t help us right now. You’re already worried about the statue. Worry about this stupid sword. Besides, if the sword is the one Holder has with him, it shouldn’t be too hard to get it back to you.” Hein said in a voice that seemed far too calm.
“Besides, you act really concerned now. Before you were yelling at me to kill you…” Hein said with a friendly grin.
The man in the black scarf calmed down a little, and just laughed.
“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t kill me. Clan Slatecutter has brought about some fine heroes, and I’ve never heard anything bad about them. Not to mention how you genuinely are more intent on saving the world than just revenge. I knew that you weren’t evil or stupid enough to slay someone who’s trying to help you, even if you thought that I was mistaken.”
“By the way, if this all ends well, you should go back to your old clan. I doubt they’d disown you; it was you who left wasn’t it?” The man in the black scarf asked.
Hein didn’t respond. He laid down on the table the man in the black scarf had been using to study fish, and simply allowed the dream within the dream to take him.
******************************************************************************
Though it was out of sight from Hein and the others, whatever field the tower had to keep out boats had now vanished. One fast ship managed to get next to the tower’s opening. The tower now visible was not the fine, bronze column that the circling adventurers were familiar with. In a dizzying flash, that tower had vanished. Now the tower was encrusted with dying sea life. The crest of it had a coating of gray mud, with only the very top somehow having a bronze shine. Hungry gulls swarmed the structure on all sides, and their calls made the former wonder look foreboding. If you were to replace the gulls with crows, the tower now resembled the lair of a dark mage.
There was a large man at the front of the ship. He was dressed in the standard outfit of a sailor; with the belts and strappings of a man who spends all of his time at sea. He was bald, with a well-kept but short beard, and his eyes squinted in the sun. The man sported large, well-muscled arms, though he had an even larger gut. Though this was a human, he looked almost like an upscaled dwarf.
The man grinned at the sight of the tower, and hefted a finely made axe over his shoulder.
“I don’t know why more ships didn’t follow? Most of ‘em just turned and sailed off…maybe one or two started headin’ this way after we left...”
The man let out a loud cough before continuing.
“Bunch of soft-foots…thinkin’ they can just kill a few minotaurs and get a worthy treasure.”
He addressed a woman standing a few steps behind him, without taking his eyes off the tower.
The woman was human, like him, but this is where the similarities ended. She had darker skin, a wild mane of hair, and was wearing what looked like stylized animal skins. The skin-outfit only covered her upper chest and hips, which showed off her well-muscled, and well- scarred, body. She was holding her greatsword by the hilt, almost leaning on it, with the tip poking into the ship’s deck.
“Don’t get too excited Hallund, if that island didn’t have anything, why do you think this tower would be any different? I bet that the dungeons below the island were just part of this tower, and once it was cleaned out, it shot out of the ground.”
Hallund turned around to the woman with a confused look.
“Shot out? The damn thing is made of metal, it can’t just float, can it?”
The woman looked up, as if lost in thought, then smiled as she met Hallund’s gaze again.
“Well, it has to be hollow inside. I bet there’s enough air in it to keep it up. I don’t know how else it could come out of the ground and not fall over…”
Hallund let out a loud belly laugh, which exposed that three of his front teeth were gold, then playfully slapped the woman on the arm. She didn’t budge, but returned his smile.
“See, this is why I brought you out here Thrash, you do both the thinkin’ and killin’ for me!”
This time both of them laughed as the ship got fairly close to the tower. It parked itself near a bronze platform that led into the entrance. There were two large doors already open, but no one inside. Both Thrash and Hallund set their eyes on another ship, docked fairly close, but it was lacking a mast entirely.
The adventurers dropped anchor right outside the platform, and started to exit the ship. Hallund and Thrash jumped off first, then watch the rest of their crew leave the ship. The men who weren’t meant for combat, which was most of the ones who actually sailed the ship, stayed behind. Hallund ran first, followed by Thrash at his heels, and what looked to be eight crewmen.
At the tail of the line was a large, imposing figure. The bugbear stood probably eight feet high. Though he didn’t wear any armor, he was adorned in rather nice clothes. The bugbear had a tricorn hat, and an admiral’s coat that was tailor made for him. He held a jeweled morning star, and walked with a very straight posture, which was atypical for bugbears.
“Mister Hallund, I think you were right to sail here when you did.” The bugbear growled out with a toothy smile.
“Had we waited just a few minutes, I bet we would have been beaten by another ship…”
Hallund spun around, and laughed. This time he grabbed his stomach when he did so.
“Aye! I told ya captain! We needed to get here right after whatever strange shit happened! That’s the best time to attack!”
The bugbear captain smiled, then walked around Hallund and into the entryway of the tower. He was greeted to the same sight as the Fighting Five, with the Symmette statue in all of its horror or glory, depending on who you asked. The way the bugbear captain scrunched up his face, horror was probably his assessment.
“Well…I have never seen anything like this. Sure isn’t an angel. Maybe a devil? What do you two think?”
Thrash smiled, and examined the statue with a condescending look.
“I don’t think that it is either Captain. Devils, at least the more human-looking ones, look pretty and strong. They don’t like to look weak. This woman looks like she’s about to die of starvation.”
“Don’t be bullshittin’ the captain,” Hallund shouted half-serious, “A pit fiend ain’t pretty!”
Thresh turned around, “No, but it isn’t weak ‘neither!”
She missed the not-quite-seriousness of Hallund’s tone.
“Don’t argue, either of you…” The bugbear captain said, quieter than most would expect from a bugbear.
“This statue doesn’t matter. What matters is the number of monsters inside this tower…if any. The place certainly looks deserted.”
“Not for long Captain!” Thrash shouted.
Another boat was coming upon the tower, though it still had a good distance before it got within docking range.
“Should we go back to the ship and fire on them Captain? I can get back there and tell the men!” Thrash shouted.
“No!” The captain roared, “We aren’t here to kill off all the others who investigate this place, just to beat them to anything worthwhile. We kill anything inside that tries to slow us down…so long as it isn’t beyond our abilities.”
Thrash sunk her shoulders, almost as if she was disappointed, but quickly jumped at the sound of a loud blast. The advancing ship was being shot at by what looked like small fireballs. Its path started to shake, then the sails looked like they were burning. Before the three could tell if it was sunk or not, the ship drifted out of sight. Despite this, the blasting didn’t stop. Hallund heard a blast much louder than the others, and started to run deeper inside. Before he got too far, he noticed that something was wrong with the floor.
The three failed to notice that there was a square missing in the floor, about ten feet across, near the back of the room. Now, that missing section was rising back up. Thrash and the bugbear captain turned around to see what followed. Two heads close to one another rose first. They mirrored that of the strange statue.
As Symmette rode the elevator, she had four modrons with one in each corner. She had apparently been treated of her wounds, as she lacked most of the injuries she previously had sustained. Once the elevator clicked in place, Symmette smiled at the onlookers as Hallund stared in shock.
“I do not recall inviting any of you here? So, tell me, what is your purpose for invading my tower?”
The captain started to talk, but Thrash cut off his introduction.
“We came here to take whatever we want, not to answer whatever the Nine Hells you are!”
The modrons simultaneously stepped forward and drew pistols, each pistol having two barrels. Thrash appeared to not realize what they were. The bugbear captain, however, did. His eyes widened in fear, and he grabbed Thrash by the shoulder and pushed her back. She didn’t protest.
I am captain Twin-fang of the Vehement Spear. I escaped enslavement in the Underdark, and made my fortune on the surface and seas. Me and my crew have been raiding ruins and dungeons for years. We’re adventurers of the highest order, and have faced countless threats in some of the most dangerous places in this world. Normally, however, those places don’t have owners…”
The captain bowed to Symmette, and then motioned to Thrash and Hallund.
“This is first mate Hallund Hoarfist, and Thrash of the Fire Mountain. She is one of our best warriors, but isn’t used to talking, so much as fighting…”
“Captain…this isn’t a woman, it’s some kind of…”
Captain Twin-fang let out a growl that made Thrash stop speaking. She didn’t take her eyes off Symmette, but walked back towards the door.
“I apologize, lady…” Captain Twin-fang asked as he motioned to Symmette.
Symmette just smiled, a little too widely in fact. She didn’t hold the expression she did in the past, of misunderstanding emotions. Instead, her faces bore looks of actual madness.
“Who am I? Well…let me tell you… captain…
Symmette said the word “captain” as sarcastically as possible.
“Very soon you will not have to ask that at all! I used to be very well liked…and I am not far from taking my position back!”
Modrons came from nowhere, and poured into the room. Several ran at Thrash, who was driven from the doorway. Captain Twin-fang glanced outside, only to see the box-like things leap out of the water and surround his men on the path to the tower.
As Thrash backed away, she swung at several modrons, and managed to fell two before they could retaliate. The group of modrons around Thrash started chattering their teeth. Instead of standing and fighting all the modrons, Thrash bolted. She ran into the darkness of the tower, then felt herself falling. The vents were very hard to see in the gloom.
The captain and his first mate stood with their hands up. The modrons around them hadn’t become violent yet. Symmette was still grinning.
“Listen…we can talk about this. There’s no need for hostilities…” Twin-fang pleaded.
“Hostilities?” Symmette asked, “Oh no, you are quite confused.”
The two heard a loud clang of machinery, and the sound of something squealing. From behind the statue, a large, box-like machine rose. It hummed with arcane magics, which held an air of malevolence neither men could identify.
“You asked who I am,” Symmette continued, “I did not properly introduce myself…”
The machine let out a grinding screech that brought Hallund to his knees. Captain Twin-fang had no more words left. He lifted up his morning star as the modrons aimed their pistols in his direction.
“You and your men are instrumental for me to reclaim quite the valuable soul! You see, I am not someone you can mistakenly threaten without consequences! I am to be the new god of this world!”