"Reduced to circus attractions... I will find whichever governor is responsible to this colony and I shall have a talk with them after we are done." - Von Mackstein muttered under its breath, the skills of both it and the units under its command being put into conquering a challenge was nothing shorter than absurd. However, to engage and more direct interrogations of the aberrant creature, it seems the group would have to go through that.
"Well noted, Herr Storm. We don't quite know what every nook and cranny of this place hides. I wouldn't be surprise if it were more separatists eager to ambush us the moment we turn our back to them." A beat. "And splitting our forces to avoid charges from the rear seems ill-advised." The mechanical head turned, the crimson optical sensors scanning its surroundings.
And, with a series of beeps and boops that came from its speaker, the Line Fusiliers were already moving, taking position in pairs behind Alaerin, Mackstein joining with its carbine in hand. "Right behind you, go forth with confidence."
Von Mackstein and Line Fusiliers - Getting in position to support Alaerin's search.
The clearing remains deceptively quiet, the only movement being the rhythmic pulsing of the golden Heartstone from within the shack. Inside, the atmosphere is thick with dust and academic discourse. Severin, holding one of the heavy wooden dolls, launches into a lecture directed at Esther, questioning the very nature of mana and its universal presence across all races. He uses her harp as a specific example, his interest in it both scholarly and pointed. He theorizes about a primordial god, a single source for all magic, weaving a narrative that connects the disparate fields of arcana and religion.
Esther, meanwhile, grows more suspicious of the strange behavior. Kneeling beside the distressed Fei Liu, she strums her harp, casting a diagnostic spell. Ribbons of music envelop the skeleton, searching for the influence of the hallucinogenic spores she appraised earlier. The result is immediate and clear: [No Spores Detected]. Liu's distress is not the result of any external chemical agent; its source is purely psychological.
Vetreus, having finished with the hermit's journal, turns his attention to the main attraction. He approaches the central table, his eyes glowing yellow as he focuses his Appraisal on the pulsing crystal. A torrent of information floods his mind:
[Heart of the Verdant] Type: Primordial Artifact (Dormant) Attributes: Mana Generation (Chaotic), Symbiotic Link, Sentience (Latent) Abilities: [Territorial Corruption], [Animate Flora], [???] Weakness: Purifying Energy. Overload vulnerable. Note: A fragment of a much larger primordial entity of pure life energy. It instinctively seeks to grow and protect itself by corrupting its environment, creating a symbiotic ecosystem. It is currently in a dormant, gestating state, gathering energy. It "sings" a song of chaotic life that only those attuned to it can truly hear. It is searching for a suitable host to become its "Voice."
At that exact moment, Penny, having meticulously cleaned and arranged the dolls on the shelves, decides the centerpiece of the room cannot be neglected. With her feather duster held high, she steps forward with the noble intention of giving the dusty, pulsating Heartstone a thorough cleaning.
As the feathers of her duster make contact with the crystal's surface, the artifact reacts.
The gentle, rhythmic golden pulse instantly ceases. For a single, heart-stopping moment, the shack is plunged into absolute darkness. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the Heartstone erupts in a blinding flash of golden light. A wave of pure, chaotic life energy explodes outward from the table.
Vetreus, standing near the table, is thrown backward by the sheer force of the blast, slamming into the far wall of the shack. Liu, who had been cautiously circling the stone, is caught in the explosion. The raw life energy, antithetical to his undead nature, scours his form. He is violently thrown against the shelves, shattering the neatly arranged wooden dolls into splinters. Penny, at ground zero, is engulfed in the light and vanishes from sight. Severin and Esther, near the doorway, are knocked off their feet and pushed out of the shack into the clearing.
The dilapidated shack groans, its wooden frame splintering under the strain. The roof collapses inward with a deafening crash, sending up a massive plume of dust, spores, and golden motes of light.
When the light fades and the dust begins to settle, the shack is a pile of rubble. The Heartstone is gone. Penny is gone. And from the wreckage, a new sound emerges, overriding the forest's heartbeat: the high-pitched, terrified wail of a human child.
The world dissolves into a blinding, silent whiteness. There is no sensation of movement, no feeling of being thrown, just an instantaneous and total immersion in pure, golden light. The feather duster in your hand disintegrates into motes of dust. The sensation lasts for what feels like both an eternity and no time at all.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it ends.
You are standing on soft, damp earth. The air is warm, humid, and smells richly of loam, moss, and blooming flowers—a stark contrast to the scent of rot and decay from before. The oppressive, rhythmic thrumming of the forest is gone. Instead, the air is filled with a gentle, melodic humming, a sound that feels ancient and deeply peaceful.
You are in a vast, subterranean cavern. The "sky" above is a ceiling of glittering rock, from which hang thick, pale roots that pulse with the same soft, golden light as the Heartstone. They form a luminous canopy, bathing the entire cavern in a gentle, day-like glow.
The cavern floor is a lush, impossible garden. Strange, beautiful flowers that glow with their own internal light grow in abundance. A shallow, crystal-clear stream meanders through the mossy ground. In the center of the cavern, the source of the light and the humming is clear: a colossal, perfectly formed version of the Heartstone, easily the size of the entire shack, beats with a slow, steady, and powerful golden light. This is not a fragment; it feels like the true heart.
You are not alone.
Standing before the great Heartstone is a figure. It appears to be a woman, tall and graceful, formed entirely from woven roots and luminous moss. Her face is serene and featureless, save for two points of soft golden light where her eyes would be. She is holding a small, crudely carved wooden doll in her hands, identical to the ones from the shack.
She turns her head slowly, her golden eyes fixing on you. She doesn't speak, but a voice echoes directly in your mind—a voice that is ancient, feminine, and sounds like the rustling of a thousand leaves.
<...A new child... You are not the one I called, but you are clean. You appreciate order. You will do...>
She takes a step toward you, her movements silent and fluid.
<...The Heart is lonely. It needs a Voice. Will you sing its song?...>
"Your emperor? Hah!" The disdain in Von Mackstein's artificial tone was palatable. The very idea of caring about the approval of any liege that wasn't the Kaiser himself was so preposterous that his algorithms could barely produce the computations for it. Which left the group with two options: either this 'emperor' themselves were some petty pretender or Gutou was hallucinating from the likely radiation exposure, considering the creature was pure bones.
The construct would approach Francis, covering its own mouth with a gloved hand, as it began whispering to the chef. "This creature is clearly suffering from radiation poisoning, and it has corroded his mind. I suppose we will have to play the part..." With that said, the mechanical commander turned to Gutou once more.
"Herr Storm here has a good point. By beating this... 'challenge' you speak of, wouldn't our group prove that they were the ones selected for it?" The Order-Keeper asked the creature, one finger tapping against Francis' cooking pot.
Spectators and judges couldn’t be even more correct: each of the blows coming from Edwin weren’t merely performative, not simply a feast for the eyes, no. He fought to crush, to maim, to win, even if not putting his full strength in his initial opening against captain. And each one of them blows were delivered with an unchanging expression on his face, lips flat. Only his azure orbs narrowed infinitely at each one of the strikes. And finally, when the fight was called off, Edwin being declared the victor, the dark knight stopped his own lunge, three-pronged lance a few inches from the Captain’s jaw.
“It seems our demonstration comes to an end, Captain Orvin. Luckily, it was just that.” He said with a scoff, raising his arm which firmly gripped his weapon above his head, allowing the briefest of smiles to appear on his lips.
Then came the wave of confidence, of swelling pride. All the heads nodded to him, how could they not? The baron stood there as an apex of his own kind. Maybe even more than that, he was an example amongst every creature. “This is what -proper- stock looks like. Enjoy while I’m here, for no one else will ever come close.” Snapping his fingers, letting a metallic -plink- echoed from the epicenter of the arena, he strode away, corners of his lips curling upward for a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Of course, that is the least that can be offered: a place to rest between the fights. I’m expecting exotic treats, both food and women, to be available for sampling.” There was a thud against the attendant’s chest as Edwin’s balled fist just entrusted the heavy lance into their care. “Make sure it is oiled and sharpened, really to be used against the next whelp I’m supposed to ‘pretend fight’ with. Now, off you go.” Shooing the attendant with one hand, he dropped the act.
This was the perfect moment for investigation, while the fools were distracted. He began walking towards the archway, steps much lighter than usual. And, following the light to a certain point, the nobleman had begun his investigation in earnest.
"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.
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