"BANDITS?!" The machine repeated one of the words that the four-armed skeleton had just uttered, the intonation of its mechanical lowering, indignation palpable in it. "I will have you... I will have you..." If its chest could heave, it probably would be raising and falling, rapidly, at that moment.
However, Alaerin words did have some effect on the mechanical commander, its grip on the skeleton's neck relaxing, despite the slight that had been committed against both it, its men and the uniform they wore. And retracting its arms from Gutou, the crimson optical orbs on its face twirled, soft zooming noises echoing from it.
"A tomb of a king or an emperor, these separatists are getting craftier by the minute..." Whispering, it snapped one gloved finger. "... fine, if you aren't one of the rebels, then tell us where the flute is, like any law-abiding citizen would." It finally declared, voice not as biting as before.
Titles [Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38] Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree. [Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]
Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F
“Difficult?” Vaust repeated the words, a slight tilt of his head accompanying it, storing the handkerchief into his pocket once more. “I would say that, like in any other trade, it does require the time and effort. And, depending on how competent one plans to be in their chosen field, the degree of said effort varies.” A rather neutral, scholarly answer. Next he would step into the shack itself, stepping to the rack of the dolls, a singular hand reaching and grabbing one of them, which had gandered most of his attention. Gloves wrapped around its dense frame, around its torso, holding it to the side.
“Now, why study the arcane arts and religion…” He turned, the tip of his cane poking against the creaking floorboards of the wooden shack. “... have you ever wondered why everything has mana?” Posing the big fairy such a question, eyes gazing upon Esther, he let his own silence stretch dramatically, before continuing. “No matter what being study, you analyze: from the lowest of goblins to the ancient dragons which I was fortunate enough to glimpse, while accompanying a group in one of Ryke Guild’s Request, all of them have at least some capacity of it.”
Steps once more, this time towards the threshold of the shack, stopping near the entrance. He lifted the hefty doll towards the Fae, eyes pointing right at her. “No one is really incapable of conjuring mana, since either birth or conception. Now, that is not to say that improper channeling of it can’t cause every single organ or nervous thread sensitive to it to be destroyed, but that is a different topic.” Turning the doll over, he glanced at it, before walking back to the shelf, placing it neatly as to not disturb the order that Penny had created there.
“Still, how this mana is brought forth varies. Yours, for example.” Lifting his cane, he pointed the globular crown towards the fairy, the tip swirling in that dark, mossy green. “It is brought by playing on your harp, which, I might add, intrigues me and would like to know more about.” A faint smile appeared on his mustachioed lips. “It is as unique as the next one, so many different ways to bring forth this seemingly ‘essential force’ that [Construct], [Fae], [Monster], [Beastkin] and us have, waiting for something to unlock it.”
His hand retreated, finger now tapping against the glass crown on his cane. “Why the different races share this common connection, let’s say, despite their jarring differences? I have my own inklings of the possibility of a primordial god, one that preceded every single one that the different ‘sects’, both official and unofficial, claim to exist and interfere in our world. Or, at least, that is how every singular thread I’ve found during my investigation led me to believe. As much as experts in both fields may seem to despise one another, like Proctor Valeriana showed, or how the Church in the Grand Duchy would likely call our investigation here blasphemous or any name to keep the truth of the matter hidden behind the veil, I say that both sources of knowledge are dependent on one another, so that the truth can be glimpsed.”
The oppressive silence of the clearing is broken as the world seems to correct itself. The illusory figures of Severin and Liu shimmer and dissipate like heat haze, and in the same instant, the real pair approaches from the treeline behind the group, their sudden reappearance seamless and disorienting.
Esther has noticed a certain shift. The sudden disappearance and reappearance of Severin's aura, coupled with his uncharacteristic hesitation earlier, raises her suspicion. Believing it could be the effect of the hallucinogenic spores she appraised earlier, she decides to check herself first. She strums her harp, and a cascade of glowing musical notes hovers around her body. Her Appraisal magic flows through her, searching for any foreign contaminants. The result is clear: [No Spores Detected]. She is clean. The strangeness is not an illusion affecting her.
Meanwhile, the group begins to investigate the shack. Vetreus, wary but resolute, is the first to enter. His Danger Sense activates, his pupils narrowing as he scans the room. He feels a general, low-level sense of unease, the kind that comes from a place steeped in death and strange magic, but there is no immediate, acute threat. No traps are sprung, nothing lies in ambush. The danger here is more subtle, more ambient.
His attention is drawn to the back corner. He steps past the central table with its pulsing Heartstone and retrieves the leather-bound journal from the floor beside the rotting cot. The book is damp, and the ink on many pages has bled into illegible smudges. However, he finds a few sections that are mostly intact. The handwriting is a frantic, looping scrawl:
...the Heart beats for us all. It sings the song of growth and rot. I brought it here, away from the unbelievers. They wanted to lock it away, to study it. Fools! You don't study a god, you worship it... ...the first children are born. I carved them from the Elderwood, and the Heart gave them breath. They watch. They listen. They understand the song. They are a better family than the one I left behind... ...The forest provides. The Grave-Tenders bring offerings. The Stalkers guard the paths. My family grows. Soon, the whole forest will sing the same song. The song of the one true heart... The final entry is barely legible, the writing shaky and stained with something dark. ...it is not enough. The Heart is lonely. It needs a voice. A true voice. Not wood. Not rot. It needs... flesh. A new child. A perfect child...
While Vetreus is absorbed in the hermit's mad ramblings, Penny follows him inside, but her focus is entirely different. Appalled by the dust and disarray, she produces a feather duster from her sleeve as if by magic. With a determined expression, she begins her sacred work. She meticulously dusts each of the wooden dolls on the shelves, arranging them into neat, perfect rows. As she handles them, she notices they are surprisingly heavy for their size, carved from a dense, dark wood. Each one is unique, but they all share the same unnerving quality of being fixed in a state of silent, watchful attention.
Outside, Liu, having returned from the void, seems deeply unsettled. He peers into the shack, his gaze lingering on the rows of dolls, and then quickly steps back, crouching down to poke at the dirt and mutter to himself, clearly wanting nothing to do with the contents of the hovel.
The shack has offered up its first secrets: the ravings of a mad hermit, a strange pulsing crystal, and a silent congregation of unnervingly clean wooden dolls. The forest's rhythmic THUMP... THUMP... continues its ceaseless beat.
With the assault coming to an end, all immediate threats seemingly have been dealt with, Von Mackstein speakers let out a clear, resonant gruff. "That was the type of victory reserved only for men of valor, under the watchful eye of the Kaiser!" The machine declared, tone resonant, confident and dangerously boisterous.
Its head shifted, following the recoiling ethereal arm with its optical scanners. And, if possible, the war-relic's 'eyes' would have narrowed as they reached the four-armed skeleton who emerged from one of the pillars. The creature's indignation about one of the irregulars, Francis, having tried to eat one of its ghastly appendages in self-defense found no purchase on the machine. "So, YOU are behind all of this, you anarchist!" One gloved finger, pointed accusatorially against the being, before boots began stomping against the sandstone. [Von Mackstein - Action 1]
As it marched forward, the commanding machine emitted a quick series of beeps and signals, coming out its speaker. [Von Mackstein - Action 2] The sounds prompted all the four Line Fusiliers to snap their carbines once more, the sights trained now on the anatomically aberrant creature. [Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 - Action 1]
And, upon reaching it, the automata's arms launched, trying to grab the bony-individual by its protruding upper collarbone and shaking it around. "Who planned this rebellion? Who is leading your numbers? Are you in cohorts with that mustachioed lance-corporal?!" The machine began questioning the skeleton, intent being more important than its alien visage.
Another assault performed, another expected victory achieved. "Hah! Our success was never in question!" The machine exclaimed victoriously, a second before its multidirectional microphones picked up the sound of the pillars being displaced by an unclassified energy phenomenon, and its optical sensors recorded the scene itself. However, luckily for the war-relic, one of the irregulars moved to try and intercept the falling pillar on top of it.
"Danke, Herr Storm!" It uttered, while it moved, jackboots hitting against the sandy floor, away from the falling pillar and towards Francis. [Von Mackstein - Action 1] And, as he moved, one authoritative gloved finger was pointed towards the falling pillars: while he might be out of their destructive tumbling, the same wasn't guaranteed about his other allies. "Firing solution, turn those pillars into dust! Now!" The next target for the Line Fusiliers were clear. [Von Mackstein - Action 2]
The Line Fusiliers didn't waste time. Snapping their carbines to the side, they aimed at the falling pillars. "DOWN." They repeated together, as triggers were squeezed and round, which exploded as they reached their targets, were shot. [Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 - Action 1/2]
As for Von Mackstein, upon getting close to Francis, joined the attack against the ethereal hand, saber gliding through the air as it slashed against it. "You will be crushed under my boot heel!" [Von Mackstein - Action 3]
Actions: Von Macksein 1 - Move away from the falling pillars and towards Francis 2 - Order the Line Fusiliers to attack the falling pillars 3 - Basic Attack against the ethereal hand - Strength E (2) + Saber F (1) = 3 Base Effectiveness
Actions: Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 1 - Aim at the falling pillars 2 - Explosive Cartridge - Fighting Style E + Range E (30ft) + Area (15ft radius) against the falling pillars - Precision B (5) + Carbine C (4) = Precision B (5) + Carbine C (4) + Ability E (2) = 11 Base Effectiveness each,
Team-up vs falling pillars - 14 Base Effectiveness CDs: Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 E 0/1
Titles [Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38] Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree. [Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies.
Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]
Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F
“)I see your master has not deprived you of our language. Good.(“ The faintest amusement echoed from the undead’s hollering core, as he adopted the Abyssal back in kind, his tone the kind of monstrous, inhuman shriek. It was the kind of sound that likely plagued children’s storybook, of what would they find if they misbehaved, yet it would likely leave full-grown adults without the courage to sleep for a few days. Nothing of that was posturing, however: it was what laid below the mortal guise.
And to Liu’s least pleasant answer, there was a moment of pure silence. The greenish flames that flickered around ⚐︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎■︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ kept doing so, neither lessening nor increasing. Beside the crackling of the mystical fire, the only constant was the skeletal finger tapping against the glassy globe at the crown of the ornate cane. A dark, green pulse emanated from the circular adornment in set intervals. Through the silent, thoughts crossed through the necromancer’s head. A few containing violence, but were eventually dismissed: what stood in front of him was not a simple, expendable familiar. The human necromancer could very well be attached to it.
“)Then deliver the message that ⚐︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎■︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ wishes to convey with her, yet no door stays ajar forever.(“ What could only be described as a dark chuckle, escaped the gaping, skeletal and empty core of the ‘Professor’, as slowly the façade was once more recreated upon his visage. There was a wet sound of flesh being stitched back together and, eventually, the guise once more was present on him. “I believe it is time we rejoin the group, mmm? There are limits to where mimicry can be kept.”
The hazel black eyes, which had stayed focused on Liu, shifted towards the group and the shack at the distance as Severin turned his whole body towards them.
Both illusions had not dared to go inside the shack, rather, they stayed outside. And, as the professor tapped the cane softly against the ground, everything was undone: the ‘pocket void’ that Liu had been kept in, illusions simply disappeared against the wind. And, from in a rather hurried pace, the professor approached the group from behind, handkerchief once more held against his nose.
“Are you three alright?” He asked, one eyebrow raised, looking at Vetreus, Esther and Penny. “It seems that thing, whatever it was, doesn’t react too well with the radiance from your attacks.” Directing that specifically at Vetreus, he continued. “That was quite the cloud of smoke. It might be best to visit a healer when this is over, just to be sure.” Leaving enough breadcrumbs, but not committing to anything, the professor peered into the interior of the rundown shack.
The clearing falls deathly silent after the Grave-Tender's explosive demise. The only sounds are the crackle of residual energy from Vetreus's attack and the relentless, rhythmic THUMP... THUMP... of the forest's heart.
As the party regroups, the two figures of Severin and Liu—or what appears to be them—offer their commentary. The Faux Liu gestures sardonically toward the shack with uncharacteristic sarcasm, while the Faux Severin prods the building's exterior, declaring the previous fight "horribly underwhelming."
Ignoring the strange shift in their companions' demeanors, Esther steps forward to deal with the shack. A ribbon of shimmering musical energy snakes from her fingertips, wrapping securely around the door's rusted handle. With a sharp tug of her will, the ribbon pulls back. The door groans in protest, its single hinge shrieking as it's forced open. It swings inward with a final, shuddering crash, revealing the interior.
The scene within is one of quiet, dusty reverence. The air that spills out is thick with the smell of dry rot, old blood, and something else, something faintly resinous like amber. The shack is a single, small room, and the golden light pulsing within illuminates several points of interest:
The Heartstone: In the absolute center of the room, resting on a crude wooden table, is the source of the light. It is a large, rough-hewn crystal, the size of a human head, glowing with a warm, rhythmic golden pulse. It seems to beat in time with the forest itself. The table it rests on is stained with dark, dried liquid.
The Congregation: The walls are lined with rickety shelves, and upon them sit dozens upon dozens of small, crudely carved wooden figures. There are dolls with button eyes, misshapen animals, and other unidentifiable shapes. Every single one of them is turned to face the pulsing crystal, a silent, unmoving audience frozen in perpetual worship. They are covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting they have been undisturbed for a very long time.
The Hermit's Corner: In the back-left corner of the shack, there is a small, collapsed cot made of rotting wood and tattered cloth. Beside it, a small, leather-bound journal lies open on the floor, its pages yellowed and water-damaged.
The shack is still. Nothing lunges out. Nothing attacks. There is only the pulsing light, the silent, watchful eyes of the wooden dolls, and the promise of discovery within the dusty confines.
The machine would have grinned if its mechanical face allowed it to, as it witnessed the success of its ‘Volley-Fire’ against the foolish belligerents and its mediocre traps. “Flawless volley fire. The discipline of Friedrich der Große himself! As he once said it: artillery adds dignity of what otherwise would be a vulgar brawl.” The commanding construct said confidently, the algorithms in its neural cortex already deciding on the next use of tactics.
Upon catching the sight of the orange hue amidst the dust lifted from the falling sandstone, the solution made itself apparent. “All firing units, concentrate volley on the Red Helmet volatile!” The mechanical voice echoed from its gas-mask: a direct and simple order. [Von Mackstein - Action 1]
And, at the same time, Von Mackstein’s gloved hand wrapped around the hilt of the saber located on its hips. With a metallic rasp of metal against its scabbard, the glinting blade was unsheathed, being pointed directly at the Blue Helmet golem. “Angriff!” It shouted at the same time as it moved.
Leather boots hit against the sandy floor; medals, proudly displayed on its chest, clinked against one another in rhythmic motion; its greatcoat fluttered behind it as it approached the Blue Helmet golem with each singular step. [Von Mackstein - Action 2]
Upon reaching the creature, the construct raised the saber above its own head, before bringing it down in a vertical slash against its foe. [Von Mackstein - Action 3]
Meanwhile, the Line Fusiliers, four of them still holding their carbines, zeroed their still fuming muzzles at the Red Helmet golem. “DOWN.” The machines uttered in monotone unison, as they squeezed the triggers of their firearms in rapid succession, shooting volleys at the anarchist. [Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 - Actions 1/2/3]
Actions: Von Macksein 1 - Order the Line Fusiliers to attack the Red Helmet golem 2 - Hussar Charge towards the Blue Helmet golem 3 - Basic Attack against the Blue Helmet golem - Strength E (2) + Saber F (1) = 3 Base Effectiveness
Actions: Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 1 - Aim at the Red Helmet golem 2 - Basic attack against the Red Helmet golem - Precision B (5) + Carbine C (4) = 9 Base Effectiveness 2 - Basic attack against the Red Helmet golem - +1 combo
Team-up + Combo vs Red Helmet golem - 13 Base Effectiveness CDs: Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 E 1/1
Titles [Monster], [Undead], [Monster - Mundane], [Monster - Evolved], [Necromancer] - [#2d7d38] Noteworthy Perks: [Evolved] - gain the title evolved. Something about your physiology or aura identifies to others you are of a higher species than your peers. Gain a +1 to social exchanges with others of your racial tree. [Menace] - An aura of fear emanates from the creature at all times that makes lower grade creatures take a -1 effectiveness on attacks against monster or monster allies. Noteworthy Perks: Resilient C (28) [Aging/Fatigue and Exhaustion/Suffocation/Surprised]
Asset Goal: Duchy Nobility F
Severin, seeing how Vetreus charged to engage the creature, took a single step back. However, the faux-human didn’t retreat from the path they came from, no. Rather, he took a step back towards Fei Liu instead.
Silently, the mimicry that were his hazel eyes locked upon the draconian man as the blade he wielded moved. The quiet observation had a purpose different from analyzing his movements or trying to peer into his technique. The objective in that very moment getting the perfect timing. And as soon as the Grave-Tender was launched into a tree…
… there it was. A smile on his lips.
In the next moment, there was nothing. At least, not where Liu Fei and Severin Vaust stood. Instead, two simulacra made of illusions of both of them stood ahead of the group.
“Well then, time to check what is inside, as I haven’t detected anything else in here. You first, your highness.” Faux Liu remarked to Vetreus, sarcasm biting in its tone, offering the way forward for the draconian, tilting his head to Esther and nodding slightly.
“That was horribly underwhelming.” Faux Severin remarked, handkerchief still being held against his nose. “Shall we investigate what is inside the shack?” He said, was stepping closer to the ruined construction, pushing the ending of his cane against the side of the structure itself, as if testing how hardy it was.
Meanwhile…
With the magical camouflage set amongst the bushes and abhorrent vegetation, an unnatural pitch-black darkness reigned at Severin and Liu’s surroundings. However, the darkness would still allow the familiar to peer at either his host or the group in the distance, even as the scenery was a void. It was a bizarre, colorless land of any detail.
“This shouldn’t take too long… or at least ought to not take too long. Otherwise, things might get a bit… confusing for our friends over there.” The necromancer said, his tone one of amusement, as he let his mortal guise fray away for the moment, leaning closer to the lumbering skeleton.
“Where can I find the human necromancer? As much as the dead talk to me, they can’t quite pinpoint her location.” His index skeletal finger tapped against the glass crown of his cane, along with a deep, reverberating hum. “I gander we might have common interests, despite her mortal nature.” ⚐︎⬧︎⬧︎♋︎■︎♏︎⧫︎♒︎ peered into the skull of its kin, with hollow eye-sockets which burned purple.
Actions: 1/2 - The Mirror - Energized C + Componentless Magic C + Magic C + Magic AoE D (500ft radius) + Magic Range D (1000ft) + Magic Targets E (10 different targets) + Selective Magic D (Controlling how Control Environment is behaving) + Control Environment D + Illusion D + Barrier D + Spell Duration D - Grade C 2 Post Cooldown
The last echoes of battle fade, replaced by the grim tableau in the clearing ahead. The party halts at the edge of the treeline, concealed for the moment by the oppressive gloom.
As the others debate their next move, Severin's focus narrows on the hulking, bark-skinned creature hunched over its kill. His eyes flash a deep, unnatural purple for a moment as his Ancient Knowledge washes over the scene.
[Grave-Tender] Type: Corrupted Flora-Fauna (Symbiote) Threat Level: C Attributes: Strength B, Resilience C Abilities: [Fungal Symbiosis], [Spore Burst], [Overwhelming Strength] Weakness: Fire. Resistant to Necrotic. Note: A guardian of this corrupted grove. It cultivates the Grave-spore Puffballs (like the one Esther appraised earlier) and tends to the forest's "cycle of decay." It is not inherently aggressive unless its territory or its "garden" is threatened. The creature is a key part of this area's unnatural ecosystem. [Soul-Tether Analysis]: Unlike the Stalkers, this creature possesses a rudimentary, singular soul of its own. It is a true, albeit corrupted, living being, not a puppet. It is deeply connected to the fungal life in the area.
While Severin processes this information, Fei Liu's own senses expand. His Supersense probes the immediate area. He confirms the Grave-Tender is the only large creature in the clearing. However, he detects a cluster of smaller life signs—faint and difficult to parse—emanating from inside the dilapidated shack. They are small, still, and numerous.
The debate on how to proceed is swift. Esther and Liu voice caution, weighing the risks of leaving an enemy at their back versus splitting their attention. Vetreus, however, is decisive. Before anyone can argue, he and Griselda act as one.
The White Wyrm blade begins to glow with a fierce, radiant light. Griselda, perched on Vetreus's shoulder, inhales deeply and breathes a concentrated stream of her own draconic energy directly onto the blade. The two energies merge, and the light emanating from the katana becomes blindingly intense, warping the air around it with sheer heat.
With a smirk, Vetreus swings the supercharged blade. Three swift, horizontal slashes cut through the air, and from them, three massive, crescent-shaped arcs of blazing, dragon-fire-infused radiant energy are unleashed. They scream across the clearing, converging on the unsuspecting Grave-Tender.
The creature, alerted a split-second before impact by the roar of the attack, looks up from its meal. Its wide, lipless mouth opens in a silent snarl, but it has no time to react.
The first arc of energy slams into its side, vaporizing flesh and bark in a shower of embers. The second hits its shoulder, severing its arm at the elbow. The third, and most powerful, strikes it directly in the chest. The combined force of the attack is cataclysmic. The Grave-Tender is lifted from its feet and thrown backward, its body engulfed in a vortex of white-gold fire. It hits the trunk of a massive tree with a sound like a thunderclap and then simply... disintegrates.
Where the eight-foot-tall creature stood moments ago, there is now only a large, black scorch mark on the tree trunk and a pile of smoldering, white-hot ash on the ground.
The clearing falls utterly silent, save for the crackle of residual energy and the ever-present, rhythmic THUMP... THUMP... of the forest's heart. The element of surprise was used with absolute, overwhelming finality.
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