Skyclad (Fate's Anvil Book 1)

by Scott Browder

  -[Soul Anchor]

  -[Mana Sight]

  Skill Points available: 15

  Enhancement Points available: 0

  Titles, Mantles, and Aspects

  [Worldwalker (Title)] - You have travelled through the void between the many worlds! Every world is different, each with its own gifts and dangers. To help you survive strange new places, you gain a slight boost to health and an increased ability to learn new things! (+50 to Health, +50% increased gains to Skill Experience)

  [Blessed of the Guardian Tree (Title)] - Through an offering of the blood of your enemies, you have reawakened the ancient tree! You need never fear its hungry roots! Future offerings or actions that benefit the tree may enhance this Title!

  Class Traits

  [Skyclad] You are clad in the sky itself, forfeiting items, clothing, and equipment in exchange for the unrivaled power of purest Sorcery. There are no barriers between you and the magics of the world. Items will no longer equip; in exchange, intangible gains are substantially increased.

  [Sorceress] Your pathway to magic and power is Sorcery itself. Needing neither incantations nor blood nor prayer, you wield the flows of Mana directly by your own will.

  Then, with the enhanced ease with which she could sense the workings of Mana woven by the old witch, and further improved by her [Mana Sight]-enchanted vision, Morgan watched.

  And Morgan learned .

  Interlude: The Broken

  Dana Pierce dropped the overheated welding rod with a hiss and shook her singed fingers. She’d developed many resistances, along with other useful skills, since her arrival in the dwarven city of Thun’Kadrass, but pain was still a thing she avoided, and without a high [Pain Resistance], burns still hurt. With a frustrated grunt, she backed her chair away from the worktable and wheeled through her workshop to make her way to her rather small but comfortable living quarters, not too dissimilar from her old barracks.

  After getting over her initial shock at her situation, she’d struggled to find a way to support herself while remaining independent. The dwarves had been tripping over each other trying to offer her patronage and support, in exchange for exclusive access to pick her brain about Earth technologies and industry. All their offers came with strings attached, and required oaths of loyalty she was not prepared to give, however, so she’d finally haggled her way into a direct exchange of information for gold.

  Her background in engineering and well-rounded, modern education had provided her with many intangible things to leverage with the dwarves of Clan Kadrass, and she’d traded on her knowledge with the sort of cold calculation only a trained Sapper and veteran Combat Engineer could manage.

  The dwarves had learned of basic black powder from another Worldwalker centuries before. While they jealously guarded the secret against the other races of Anfealt, her impression was that they weren’t a culture prone to rapid advancement. They were long-lived and practical on the whole, and that had led to a much slower and more plodding approach to experimentation. However, that didn’t prevent them from aggressively pursuing advancement opportunities when one literally fell into their figurative laps.

  While she was no chemist, she’d still managed to trade them a simplified version of smokeless powder for their cannons and smaller arms in exchange for a comfortably tidy sum of coin. She’d used that gold to buy her current workshop and home, nestled in the outer side of the mountain that contained the greater part of the city of Thun’Kadrass. All in all, I think I got the best deal possible, she thought to herself.

  Dwarven society seemed to place more value on properties built closer to the center of the mountain, far away from daylight. Her shop, larger than any aircraft hangar that could be found on Earth, opened up to the outside of the mountain. Only the poorest of dwarves lived close to the surface at all if they could help it, and almost none actually sought such a thing willingly. The property merchant group she’d bought her new home from had been utterly thrilled to get such an undesirable piece of real estate off their books.

  “Kojeg!” she shouted, wheeling herself to a stop near a low table that held an assortment of items, among them a clay jug filled with water. “I need more fusion tips for the welding rod!” She quickly doffed her protective welding apron and tinted crystal visor, placing them on the table and wiping her brow before claiming the clay water jug. Despite the magic of this new world, metalwork was still a hot and sweaty profession.

  “Kojeg!” she shouted again after quenching her thirst. She left the jug on the table and headed back through the scattered, junkyard maze that was her demesne, searching for her friend and business partner. The [Steelgrip Artificer] had been one of the relatively rare dwarves who’d spent most of his life adventuring in the human lands before retiring, and unlike most of dwarvenkind, he had no issues at all living and working so close to the surface.

  Her shouts could barely be heard over the banging and clanking in another part of her mountainside garage. Pieces of equipment and gear she used to think were strangely designed sat scattered about the vast open space, like a huge junkyard of detritus that seemed to have been cast aside by an army of insane heavy equipment mechanics.

  My shop is a steampunk fan’s wet dream, she thought to herself while navigating the piles of parts and ramshackle shelves that sprawled chaotically throughout the expanse of the shop. I really need to work on an inventory system.

  Her search for her busy workshop assistant was cut short as Kojeg’s daughter, Andeira, came rushing out of the office storefront that faced into the mountain toward the upper levels of the city. “I have them, Dana!” the stocky woman called out as she approached, carrying a small wooden box. “I know the shop isn’t in a bind for coin right now, but ordering them all the way from Sprocket is going to start hurting soon. We’ve bought up every single one available in the Thun, and the Gnomes have started charging more thanks to the demand.”

  “I know, I know,” Dana replied, “but the ones made here can’t do the detail work I need them for.” She took the box and placed it in her lap to free up her hands to maneuver her chair. “It’s getting easier, though; every time I level a fabrication or assembly skill, I get better at controlling the Mana output through the lenses.”

  “Your Worldwalker traits are just unfair,” the young dwarven woman grumbled. “We already level slower because we live longer than humans, so when you add in your skills bonus, not even our Earth and Metal Affinities can keep up with you!”

  “Ha!” she barked. “I’m still stuck in a chair, though, don’t feel bad. And I’ll never be able to shape the metal like your pa.” She wheeled around and headed to return to the worktables, Andeira following to continue their conversation.

  “I can’t thank you enough for hiring him on.” The younger dwarf smiled as she walked beside Dana. “After his adventurin’ days, he’s just not suited to the repetitive factory work at the Great Forges of the Thun.”

  “How could I not? I practically landed on his head, after all! I thought for sure he was gonna kill me, ‘til he realized I was legless and wasn’t trying to attack him!” Dana chuckled as she placed the box of parts on the table. “And then he helped me out, let me stay at your place, while every guild in the city was champing at the bit to sponsor a pet Worldwalker and be the only ones using my knowledge.”

  “Still, a shop like this was always his dream after he retired. The forges were crushing his spirit.” The dwarven woman smiled as a particularly loud banging noise and some colorful cursing echoed through the cavern. “He likes being able to work on his own projects and do different things every day, instead of just hundreds of the same parts with every order.”

  “Well,” Dana said after finishing off the water jug from the table, “he taught me about golems. Magic versions of the robotics I was going to school for after I left the military.”

  Andeira had always been interested in anything to do with Earth and its technology, and was quite happy for an opportunity to ask about details. �
��It’s amazing to me that your people were able to build golems and set their instructions without an enchanted matrix and mana crystal cores.”

  “You’ll be able to do things like that here, too, one day,” the chair-bound woman replied. “This world simply had no need to advance that field of study, not with magic, and the levelling and skills system.”

  She opened the box of parts and removed one of the new fusion tips. Three conductive metal prongs held a needle-thin sliver of extremely delicate crystal, the entire piece slotting into the end of an enchanted rod similar to a screwdriver handle. A larger crystal was nestled into the back end of the rod’s insulated grip to provide the power for the device.

  “I’m actually working on a hybrid mana-turbine for power generation for our next coin infusion,” she continued. “Your dad’s said for months he wishes we had an actual smelter and a proper forge here, and we definitely have room. I also want to be able to melt down some of this scrap so I can start making my own custom alloys.”

  “More strange metals? I thought the clan’s Great Forge could produce anything you needed.”

  Dana looked at her with a thoughtful expression before answering. “It definitely can, for a given custom item. Your Kadrass smiths produce some of the finest work I’ve ever seen, so don’t take it as an insult. But each thing they make is slightly different, with variations in machining tolerances.”

  “I’m not insulted, I just don’t understand why that’s important.” Andeira shrugged. “I’m only a shopkeeper; the forge never interested me as much as haggling over prices did.”

  “It’s not all that big of a deal with things like swords and armor, as long as they meet minimum spec,” Dana replied, “but a lot of my designs are modular or require interchangeable parts with exact specifications. If something’s even a tenth of an inch too large or too small, it won’t work. Some of the things I want to make require building the tools to build the tools to even get started.”

  “I’m sure the guilds will be eager as ever to—”

  Their conversation was interrupted as the double doors to the shop’s supply entrance were suddenly pushed open. A pair of dwarven porters shuffled through the doors, carefully bearing a rounded cylindrical chest between them. The chest itself positively reeked of protective enchantments; even the most novice of caster classes would be able to sense them.

  But it was the pair following the delivery that had Dana’s jaw dropping to her chest. A gnome, barely three and a half feet tall, followed the dwarves. The various tools affixed to his belt and the goggles on his head with selectable lenses made his specialization in some form of artisan or tinkering profession rather obvious.

  His tunic was the most offensively bright shade of yellow Dana had ever seen in her life, as ridiculously gaudy as the most heinous Hawaiian shirt imaginable. Said insult to fashion was driven even further into depravity by the horrifically reflective blue breeches, lending an overall effect that resulted in her eyes trying to focus on one or the other and settling on neither, leaving her almost cross-eyed.

  “It doesn’t get any easier to see with time, either,” the gnome’s companion said. Not having seen another human since her arrival on Anfealt, he was also a shock for Dana’s eyes—even before she noticed the man’s glaring oddities.

  “Petram Bracklethwait, the [Lifesteel Architect],” said the human as he held out his hand to shake hers, and Dana saw that his entire arm was made of interlocking sections of metal that flexed as smoothly as flesh. “My insultingly garish friend here is Jemeris, a [Brightspark Engineer]. Your order was so unusually fascinating, we decided to deliver it in person so we could be available if you need any adjustments done.”

  “Ha! Don’t let him fool you,” the so-named Jemeris interjected. “We wanted to meet a Worldwalker and pick your brains about how you came up with the ideas for these design modifications on the standard prosthetic grafting interface.”

  Dana practically vibrated in her chair once she realized who these new guests actually were. “Andi!” she exclaimed. “Tell your Pa to mind the shop, I’ll need your help with this!”

  As the dwarven woman hurried to deliver the message to her father, Dana turned back to the newcomers with a grin. “Dana Pierce. Man, it’s good to see a human! No offense, Mister Jemeris, sorry! And I wasn’t expecting it to be done for at least another month, let alone delivered all the way from Sprocket!”

  “Well, normally our prosthetics don’t require a personal visit,” Petram said. “The peculiarities of our Lifesteel Alloy and the form of enchantments used to graft them are intentionally designed so that almost any skilled healer can activate and adjust them.”

  Petram’s gnomish business partner seemed to be nearly vibrating with excitement. “But the design specifications you sent, they’re not for a prosthetic, are they?”

  “You have a skill to let you directly interface with golem-cores, don’t you?” the metal-armed man blurted out, unable to contain his own eagerness any longer. “I’m betting you contracted us because you needed a better way to link with them than just touch or a standard mithril graft!”

  Dana was suddenly wary, leaning back in her chair to eye the newcomers with a cautious look. “If this is a push for you to get me to work for you or sign any contracts, you made the trip for nothin’.” She shook her head viciously. “I had to deal with enough of that with the dwarven guilds and the cartels when I first got here.”

  “Nothing of the sort, Miss Pierce,” Petram said with a conciliatory tone, raising his arms placatingly. “While we’d love to strike some sort of arrangement of that sort, your stance on such things is quite well established among the guilds. We knew that before setting out on this trip.”

  “Besides,” Jemeris cut in with a wave of his hand, “he really outdid himself this time. It’s a masterpiece! And we weren’t about to just ship it with a standard caravan.” The gnome patted the enchanted chest affectionately before continuing, “Very delicate work; we both earned a class level working on this project!”

  “All we ask is that we be allowed to see our work in action before we leave,” the taller man said, “and any information you may volunteer about how and why you made such a request. We can see now why you didn’t request prosthetic legs,” he said with a nod toward her obvious lack of appendages. “At a glance, I’m guessing there wasn’t enough left of your bone mass? I had to have my entire shoulder structure replaced to anchor my arm, and legs are trickier, sadly.”

  “That was a disappointment, finding that out after seeing people with magically animated metal limbs after I got here.” She sighed as she scooted her chair up to inspect the enchanted box. “Really got my hopes up, I have to admit.” She looked down at the container with a grin, barely able to contain her anticipation. “Come on, bring it into the clean room. Everything should make sense once you see what it’s for.”

  Without waiting for acknowledgement, she made her way back across the shop as a huffing Andeira returned from her errand to fall in beside her. Petram and Jemeris trailed after, directing the porters to bring the chest. The chair-bound Worldwalker led them past her living quarters, stopping only long enough to place the almost forgotten box of welder parts on the table.

  Nestled into one corner of the cavernous junkyard was a steel structure easily as big as a two-car garage on Earth. Enchantments traced onto the walls pulsed gently with Fire, Earth, and Air magic, keeping the building and the surrounding area perfectly sterile and clean.

  The door to the partition opened to reveal a sectioned-off antechamber with a low table running along one side, and doors opening up to the rest of the interior. After the porters placed the chest upon the table, Dana shooed everyone except Andeira out of the building. “This shouldn’t take long, gentlemen, but I’m not about to give everyone a show while Andi helps me get changed. Just be patient, please,” she said as she shut the door in their faces and slid a locking bar into place.

  Her excitement was infectious, and Andeira
was grinning as Dana turned the catches to unlock the chest. The lid smoothly slid open to reveal what looked like a metal centipede from a low-budget Hollywood reject horror film, but to Dana, it rivaled the Sistine Chapel ceiling. It’s just like I designed it, she thought with wonder.

  The Lifesteel Alloy gleamed in the light of the mana crystal bulbs embedded in the ceiling. The implant was constructed of thirty-three articulated segments that could move organically, the enchanted metal allowing for a perfect melding with flesh and bone. Each segment sported a pair of needle-thin prongs, so delicate they could make a razor’s edge jealous of their sharpness.

  Andeira grimaced at the sight of it, inhaling sharply with a hiss. “Are you sure it’s going to work the way you designed it? Once Lifesteel is bonded with the body, you can’t remove it without going deeper than the melding, and this is going to graft right onto your spine!”

  “I’m sure,” Dana replied as she double- and triple-checked the spinal graft with several different magical analysis tools. “All of the connecting linkage enchantments are spot-on with my design specifications. It’s exactly the same principles as any normal prosthetic that uses Life Mana to force new nerve tissue connections to mesh with the Lifesteel, only I’m not connecting to the nerves of severed limbs. I’m making entirely new ones.”

  She didn’t give her dwarven friend any more time to protest, pulling herself out of her wheelchair and up onto the table with a smooth burst of effort. Dana had worked very hard to maintain her upper body strength after losing her legs, and the addition of stats and levels in the new world had led to an even more pronounced physique.

  “I have no idea how you came up with these ideas, Dana,” Andeira said as she helped the human remove her clothing.

  Dana awkwardly wriggled what remained of her lower extremities to discard her shorts before laying forward across the padded support fastened to one end of the table. “Heh,” she chuckled. “I got this particular idea from one of the villains in a popular illustrated fiction series, only he was made up. This is really happening.”