With the muddy water being a thing of the past, Von Mackstein climbed down from the impromptu hand holds made out of shurikens, boots hitting the floor with a wet splash. "Great thinking on your feet, Herr Storm. That water didn't seem like it would mix well with my machinery." The construct said, bleeps ordering the Line Fusiliers down from their holds as well.
One of them wasn't so lucky, however.
Approaching the battered unit, the crimson lenses of the war-relic began analyzing it, appraising the damage it took. "Still functional, but you will need a trip to the Stahlseele-Instandsetzungsbrigade as soon as this is over." It talked to the Line Fusilier #5, helping it get up on its feet.
"Considering the that octopus-esque subversive activities were brought to an end, it is time to advance and see what else is hidden in the shadows of this place."
As soon as the machine's audio sensors picked up of running water, or at least some running liquid, its attention was immediately drawn to the pit and its muddy torrent shooting towards them. As much as his algorithm tried to search what course of action to take in such a situation, it kept drawing blanks. "Scheiße..." The sound, barely above a whisper, leave its voice modulator.
However, when it picked up on Alaerin's voice and the plan he had come up with, Von Mackstein didn't waste a single second. A bunch of high-speed beeps, coming from it, directed its Line Fusiliers to rush towards the wall and climb on the makeshift handholds. [Von Mackstein - Action 1]
And the commander itself would soon follow, dashing towards the wall and grasping the shurikens, attempting to climb it. [Von Mackstein - Action 2/3]
Von Mackstein's actions: 1 - Orders the Line Fusiliers rush to the wall and try to climb the shurikens 2 - Rush to the wall itself 3 - Start to climb on the shurikens stuck to the wall
Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 actions: 1 - Move to the wall 2 - Try to climb on the shurikens stuck to the wall
Edwin barely made past the archway, when he found himself surrounded by a trio of noblewomen, not exactly what he was hoping to find as he delved deeper into the entrails of the event. And, with the scent of perfume reaching his nostrils, and sweet compliments reaching his ears, he found himself at an impasse.
"It was quite the sight, wasn’t it? Not even close to how I perform on the battlefield, but I suspect you, ladies, got a small taste of it.” With not even a thread of humbleness in his very being, he answered the trio, a self-confident smile, that not quite reached his eyes, present on his lips. “It does take a special kind of man to wield a lance, even on foot, but…” He leaned closer, seizing the jaw of one of them with an armored finger, the steel chilling and voice dropping to a conspirational tone. “... here I am.”
And moving his gauntlet away from the woman, he walked towards the table with the refreshments with commanding presence. Grasping one delicate, crystal goblet, sapphire eyes sliding towards the admirers. “I was trained by the best lancer in the Second Continent, Ser Cedric of Allenport.”
With those words leaving his mouth, eyes began searching about while he poured some of the cool light wine into the goblet. Eventually, his eyes would catch a glimpse of a golden mask in the distance, narrowing ever so slightly at the very sight. “Ryken knights, as competent as they are, are certainly -not- my peers. After all, only the best are expected of a Marcher Lord such as myself.”
Turning around and facing the gathered crowd, he sipped on the light wine, its softness not that appreciated. “Perhaps I will allow for another demonstration of my skills later…” And, upon hearing some whining and envy from certain contestants, he saw his opportunity. “... is that so? A remarkable technique?” His voice was suddenly loud, booming and carrying effortlessly. “Well then, why don’t the three of you explain their nuances to them?” His open hand glided through the air, motioning towards the noblewomen and gathered admirers. “I will leave you to it.”
With a mock bow, he turned around, crimson cape fluttering behind him. Sipping the wine while he watched by the corner of his eyes how much attention was still on him.
The world erupts in a cataclysm of golden light and splintering wood.
The force of the explosion blasts Severin and Esther out of the doorway, sending them tumbling into the muddy clearing. Almost immediately, they recover and rush back toward the devastation. The shack is gone, reduced to a smoking mound of splintered planks, collapsed roofing, and tangled vines. Protruding from the debris is the haunting sight of a clean, white ribcage and spine.
Esther strums her harp, and a wave of searching magic washes over the rubble. Her senses are flooded with information: Vetreus is pinned deep within the wreckage, while Liu's bones are scattered throughout the entire debris field. Glowing runes, visible only to her, materialize on the rubble above her allies' locations.
As Esther begins to dig, Severin points his cane at the wreckage and utters a command. With a series of sharp, contained implosions, large sections of debris vanish, reappearing in a heap in the clearing a hundred feet away. The spell clears a significant portion of the rubble, revealing Vetreus on one knee, shielding himself from the last of the falling dust. A few feet away, Griselda wriggles free from a pocket of space he had created, shaken but unharmed.
The teleportation also reveals the full extent of Liu's state: he is completely disassembled, his bones strewn across the footprint of the former shack like a macabre puzzle.
From the center of the wreckage, where the Heartstone once sat, a new sound cuts through the air—the high-pitched, terrified wail of a human child.
You bow your head, apologizing for your lack of musical talent and your uncertainty about the song she speaks of. The entity then clarifies its intent.
<...The song is not of the voice, but of the soul. It is the song of growth and rot. The song of life and death. The song the Heart sings to the forest...>
She extends her free hand toward you. It is not a threatening gesture, but an invitation.
<...You do not need to know the melody. You only need to be the instrument. The Heart chose you. It saw your desire for order in the chaos. It wishes to share its purpose. Will you accept? Will you become its Voice?>
As she speaks, the great Heartstone behind her pulses a little brighter. The small wooden doll in her other hand seems to turn its head slightly, its blank, carved face now looking directly at you.
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’s eyes narrowed as soon as the feather duster touched the crystal, the thrumming instantly ceasing. His gloved hand began to rise, but it was too late even for him. The powerful wave hit him, colliding against his body fully, hurtling him backwards towards the clearing.
For an instant, while in midair, a section of his visage, traced on his face like a diagonal scar flickered, the pale, bony self revealed under the guise. Yet, as soon as his back hit against the earthy ground with a hefty thud, nothing seemed amiss. His mind was already reeling with the possibilities of what had just taken place meant.
However, before a single more complex thought could be formed about it, Esther was already calling for him to get up. And he did so, he extended his gloved hand towards her own, fingers wrapping around her palm. Up, he quickly accepted the cane, before she started to drag him towards the now ruined shack. “Slow down, child!” He said, as he pretended difficulty and keeping up with her, cane skewering the ground below with each hurried step.
His eyes locked on the torso exposed, looking at the ribs, spine and other bits close to it. Severin then used his cane to move them around slightly, letting out a curious hum. “It must be Liu’s: too clean, no fat, muscle or blood present on these pieces. That explosion, whatever it was, didn’t seem to be the type to vaporize flesh and tissue from bone.”
Concluding so, he pointed the globular end of his cane towards the debris. “Stand back for a moment.” He cleared his throat and narrowed his hazel eyes. “Teleport!” He said, targeting every single piece of debris he can see and trying to teleport it away from the shack and into the clearing behind him.
Actions: 1 - Teleport! - Magic E + Magic AoE F (15ft radius on each target) + Magic Range F (30ft of range) + Teleport E (teleport range up to 100ft from the origin) + Magic Targets F (up to 5 different targets) + Selective F (Targeting only de debris) + Energized E - Grade E 0 Post Cooldown
Von Mackstein's sensors flared with all types of danger warning as one elongated, meaty tendril shot from the pit towards the two and landed on the floor. "Pain?" The machine uttered, until the snapping was caught by its sound receptors. The crimson opticals zeroed on the octopus-like creature, one authoritative gloved hand, pointing at its bulbous head. "Explosive rounds, kill this subversive!" [Von Mackstein - Action 1]
The Line Fusiliers were quickly to comply. Four, with carbines in their hands, brought in front of them, aim-sights zeroing on the creature's head. "DOWN." They said in unison, before triggers were squeezed and explosive rounds were shot against the creature. [Line Fusiliers - Action 1/2]
Following that, the commanding construct would repeat the very same motion as its subordinates, carbine aiming at one of the eyes of the creature, before firing a bullet towards it. [Von Mackstein - Action 2/3]
Von Mackstein's actions: 1 - Orders the Line Fusiliers to attack the creature 2 - Aim at the creature 3 - Basic attack against the creature - Precision B (5) + Carbine C (4) = 9 Base Effectiveness
Line Fusiliers #1, #2, #3, #4 actions: 1 - Aim at the creature 2 - Explosive Cartridge - Fighting Style E + Range E (30ft) + Area (15ft radius) - Precision B (5) + Carbine C (4) + Ability E (2) = 11 Base Effectiveness each, total 15 Base Effectiveness if team-up is considered
"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.
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