by Kevin Murphy
As the party members passed around and admired Roth’s new weapon, Yorvel looked thoughtful. “Right,” he said. “It should be about time for the cores, too.”
Walking over to his oven, Yorvel pulled the hot spheres out from amongst the ashes using sturdy iron tongs. He placed each of the hot orbs in its own metal drinking mug.
“All that’s left is to quench them,” Yorvel said.
“With blood again?” Mina asked, wincing at the idea.
“Hmm? No, don’t be silly. There’s not enough room to inscribe—" Yorvel stopped himself when he realized that he had begun to ramble about the specifics of his exclusive craft. “Suffice to say, these aren’t quite as customizable. And if they are, I don’t know how.”
“Why the cups, then?” asked a curious Dakkon.
“Why not?” said Yorvel. “Have you brought along a cooling rack with little orb-sized sockets for us to use?”
Dakkon sighed and shook his head. That would have been a silly thing to have. Cline did, however, have the chain-link Stairs of Stijgen that might work fine, but Dakkon figured that if the system wasn’t broken, why bother trying to fix it? “Cups will do fine, I suppose.”
Yorvel watched the cups intently with one, ready hand over a large pouch which contained a dust that looked like finely ground limestone or powdered sugar. When the orbs were cooled to Yorvel’s satisfaction, he smothered them with the flour-like powder, causing each mug’s contents to hiss for a couple of seconds.
“All right,” said Yorvel a short time after the hissing had ended. “They’re good enough to use. I suggest you find a high-caliber jeweler to properly mount them. I can make a trinket or two, but you’ll get your best results from someone accomplished in the art.”
After the powerful result of Roth’s sword, the party’s hopes were set quite high. They eagerly rushed to the cups to see what Yorvel had created for them.
|Name: Orb of Power
|Item Type: Focus – Crystal
|Durability: 45/45
|Attributes: +8% chance to maintain concentration, +12% magic-based skill damage, 2% chance to deal double damage with magic-based skills
|Description: A small sphere which glows with a red hue. Its effects may become more focused through the labors of a skilled craftsman.
|Name: Orb of Aid
|Item Type: Focus – Crystal
|Durability: 45/45
|Attributes: -8% chanting time, +12% chanted spell efficiency, 2% chance that a chanted spell’s mana will be instantly refunded
|Description: A small sphere which glows with a blue hue. Its effects may become more focused through the labors of a skilled craftsman.
|Name: Orb of Sleight
|Item Type: Focus – Crystal
|Durability: 45/45
|Attributes: -8% chance of being detected, +12% chance to sense a trap that has been triggered, 2% chance that a triggered trap will fail to operate
|Description: A small sphere which glows with a green hue. Its effects may become more focused through the labors of a skilled craftsman.
Then, there was Yorvel’s sphere.
|Name: Orb of Cunning
|Item Type: Focus – Crystal
|Durability: 45/45
|Attributes: +8% experience gained through crafting, +12% produced item quality, 2% chance that a produced item will gain a complimentary bonus attribute
|Description: A small sphere which glows with a violet hue. Its effects may become more focused through the labors of a skilled craftsman.
While they weren’t game-changers like Roth’s new sword, the orbs’ effects were strong. Increased casting speed, power, cost reductions, and even the chance to do double damage with a spell. On top of that, Yorvel’s tip that they could be further upgraded seemed incredibly promising.
“Woah. Thanks, Yorvel,” Dakkon said.
“No, thank you,” said Yorvel. “This violet orb will serve as a memento of my past, and you’ve given me a promising destination for my future. Those are payment for my work and then some.”
Despite Yorvel’s heartfelt thanks, Dakkon could see that Melee’s face had been scrunched up in discontent. She held the expression as she clearly held her tongue.
“What’s up, Melee?” Dakkon asked. While she may have been trying not to say anything, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
Melee sighed. “I don’t mean to sound selfish here, but everyone got something cool except for me. I mean, I’m happy for you guys and all, but it’s a bit of a bummer to be the only kid without a new toy.”
Dakkon considered the new gear they’d just received. He was the only damage dealing mage, so he’d probably get the Orb of Power. Of course, Mina would get the orb that had to do with chanting spells. Roth had gotten a powerful new weapon, and there was no way that Melee was going to be sneaking around anywhere. It just wasn’t her style. So, that meant that the green orb would go to Cline.
“Wasn’t there something else we got?” suggested Cline.
“Oh yeah,” said Roth. “Yorvel, anything you can do with the acid sac?”
Yorvel grimaced when he thought about working with the fleshy sac. “Maybe. I could make it into a bathing cap, I guess—but I’d recommend you take it to someone else.”
“Ooh, how about it, Melee?” asked Roth, in a flat, suddenly-serious tone. “If it turns out to be super strong, you can wear that sac into battle.”
Melee looked less than amused. “Suggest I put that thing on my head again, and I’ll make you wear it as is.”
“I think we’ll pass on the bath cap, Yorvel,” Dakkon said with a grin. “Thanks, though.”
Yorvel looked relieved that he wouldn’t need to touch the thing. It still lay precisely where the party had initially dropped it along with the rest of their loot.
“I may be able to strengthen your current weapon a bit,” Yorvel said, quick to offer his services once again. “The effect won’t be as dramatic as Roth’s weapon, but you’ve already gathered all of the required ingredients.”
Melee seemed surprised. Though she’d been discontent, she had already accepted that she wouldn’t be getting anything. She assented with a nod, then presented her oversized sword to the mah`yarin.
“Just so we’re clear, I can’t shrink this one down like the crystal weapon,” Yorvel said.
Melee grinned. “It’s getting a little light. If you could make it bigger, that would be fine by me.”
Yorvel shook his head as he took the sword from Melee’s hands. “I can’t do bigger, but I can probably manage heavier.”
Melee looked unsure. Heavy, simply for the sake of being heavy alone, was no good. “Just make it hit harder however you can, and I’ll be pleased. Thanks, Yorv.”
Yorvel didn’t need any help shaping the blade this time around, so the party decided to take one final break before heading back out onto the road. Cline fashioned new arrows to replenish his stock; Mina practiced casting to get a feel for precisely how quickly she could chant her spells now that she had a new focus; and Roth happily scratched Jinx as he watched Dakkon test the utility of his orb by trying to maintain his concentration while Melee assaulted him with a series of distracting tricks. In a playful mood—and relentlessly thorough in her approach—Melee used her recently-acquired magic ring, screams in his ear, shoves from all angles, a noogie, and anything else she thought might be distracting. In a fit of nonstop inspiration, she even unfastened the front of her tunic down to just above her navel while she complained about working up a sweat despite them being in the coolest weather they’d yet to experience. Dakkon didn’t want to admit it, but most of her tricks worked—the last one even caused him to blush so furiously scarlet that he couldn’t hide his failure to stay on task. Roth cheered at the show, and Mina attempted to shoot the three a disapproving look, but she couldn’t fully reign-in her own grin at Dakkon’s unexpectedly bashful response.
After nearly 60 minutes of work from Yorvel’s skilled hands—and just as many inst
ances of Dakkon having his concentration disrupted—the sword had gained oversized rune etchings along its visible flat side. When Melee went to pick it up from Yorvel’s workbench, she faltered on her first attempt.
Far heavier than it had been before, Melee needed both hands to pick it up. After she did, she began walking around and swinging it about—cautiously testing its new weight.
“Heavy enough for you?” Yorvel asked with a smug grin.
Melee swung the heavy sword around over her head, in a circular motion, and quickly brought it down, fully cleaving through the barrier made of stacked white wood which surrounded the glade. The sudden display caused Yorvel’s eyes to widen.
“You’ll have to leave this wood behind anyway, right?” Melee said as she slung the sword over her right shoulder. “Good work, Yorvel. This is what a two-handed sword should feel like.”
The weight of Melee’s sword, along with the damage it could dish out, had doubled.
Chapter 17: Destination?
After accounting as best as they could for their incorrect bearing, Dakkon’s party bid Yorvel farewell and began to head northeast toward their goal. The party had been revitalized through their meeting with Yorvel, so they all agreed that an extended break could wait until they arrived at their destination. Their anticipation to reach their journey’s end was building, but Dakkon worried that it might be wishful thinking on their part. While the map that he had perceived as being more precise had misled them, the stream they had followed to get there wasn’t even shown on his other map. If they were lucky, the scale of the second map wouldn’t be so horribly off. If it was, they might very well find themselves near the frigid northlands by the time they’d realized their mistake. Another day of walking meant another approaching break. Eventually—whether they reached their goal or not—the party would need a real hiatus from the game to take care of things in the real world.
There were no roads, trails, rivers, or streams to guide them further. All they had to go on was the direction of the sun, Mina’s approximations, and their faith in Yorvel’s best guess. The forest grew denser as they went. The trees grew older—some bordering on ancient—and they packed closer and more tightly together, conspiring to completely block out the light of day.
Actually seeing what lay ahead in dark areas wasn’t a problem in Chronicle, but a perpetually twilight forest proved itself to be an unnerving landscape to travel through. As they ventured deeper into the umbrous wood, they began to hear the strange new sounds of unknown living things—hisses, coughs, and clicks—which suggested they were in the presence of some exotic animals which were big enough that they weren’t afraid to make their presence known in the forest’s dark. Cline pointed out assorted signs of passage as they came: snapped branches, giant gouge marks in bark, and the prints of incredibly large, unidentifiable paws.
As they walked, they waded deeper and deeper into the unknown. The canopy-blocked sun meant that their final guide had forsaken them. The wilds around them were untamed. In the thick, dark wood, it didn’t seem unreasonable that they might cross paths with some giant predator—one that would find they were perfectly-sized morsels to feed to its young. Dakkon had already experienced the shock of having a party member snatched away into the trees, so he kept his gaze focused upward—though a coldblooded creature like the snake that grabbed Finnegan would be troublesome to spot with his heat sight.
Rather than march blindly through the forest at the fastest pace they could, the group moved cautiously and deliberately. Dakkon’s heat vision and Cline’s ability to path find were helpful tools, but their first defense was Jinx. The party relied on the wolf’s judgement and sharp senses. When Jinx stopped moving, so did everyone else. Then, they stilled themselves until their lupine alarm made his move.
Jinx stopped frequently. Sometimes he only did so for a moment, but other times they stood still for minutes as some unseen threat—likely—passed them by. Each time that they made a sudden stop, the nerve-racking quiet and vague, obscured blobs of heat that Dakkon could see radiating from behind thick clusters of tree trunks became harder to bear. The unknown was no place for mankind. Being deep within it, the group harbored no illusions—man’s place was the polis.
Twice in the forest Jinx clearly led the group off-course from the direction they’d been heading, but the group didn’t try to correct the animal. Instead, they followed its lead. Progress was slow through the dense forest, but they had no doubt that Jinx’s caution tended to steer them away from harm. Dakkon made a mental note that he’d have to buy the wolf something nice to show his gratitude. He didn’t know what a wolf might consider nice—save for a bone-in haunch of meat—so he’d buy several of those and let the beast have his choice.
Finally, the light was visible ahead. It was still distant and heavily obscured, but anything was a welcome reprieve from the tension of the forest. Behind the party came a strange new sound. Something had gotten close.
*chluk-chluk-chluk* *chluk-chluk-chluk*
Jinx stiffened again. The sounds were rough, distinctly inhuman, and guttural—like they’d come from the mouth and throat of something quite large. The noise came in distinct bursts of three. With the light so near in front of them, Dakkon was gripped by the sudden desire to flee. He thought he could make it if he ran—they were so close to a break in the woods. Then, the sound came again and stilled any thoughts of escape.
*chluk-chluk-chluk*
It sounded like the throaty clicks were being aimed directly at them from behind, as if the creature already had them in its sights, but no one dared to turn around to look. Mina let out a nervous sigh as Jinx pulled its upper lip back into a silent snarl. Then, miraculously, they could hear the strange sound moving away from them as the unknown creature headed deeper into the forest.
“Oh gods. No more forests for me,” Cline said. “I should’ve known better after the shapeshifters.”
Dakkon could relate. Bandits, murder cats, shapeshifters, snakes, and now, whatever that thing had been. He’d grown complacent from the long, laid-back journey, but he had a history with forests that shouldn’t be so easily forgotten.
No one else dared to say anything as they walked toward the wall of light that lay before them. It seemed almost like the forest had been clear-cut away up ahead. When they got closer they could see why. In front of them was a sheer drop off a cliff. Had Dakkon acted on his urge and run out of the woods, he’d likely have taken a nasty plunge.
“Well, shit,” said Melee as she approached the side of the cliff. At least 50 meters down beneath them, they could see more canopy. The trees below looked incredibly old and tall. The ground could be 100 meters down for all they knew.
“We’re not getting down that way.” Roth said as he walked closer to the edge of the cliff. When he reached it, he paused. “Well, well. Would you look at that.”
Though it had been obscured by the ledge from a distance, once the group peered down into the canyon from its ledge, they could see the dense forest give way to a barren plateau. Raised above the forest surrounding it, the top of the plateau was at least 30 meters beneath them and much further ahead. It looked like a flat island of stone amidst a sea of trees.
“There’s some sort of tower over there, too,” said Melee. She motioned to their left along the edge of the cliff—toward a large, segmented spire which peeked out from the tree line and curled upwards in odd, disjointed portions.
Of what could be seen, the spire had a strange design. It seemed unbalanced—like it shouldn’t have been capable of supporting its own weight. The tower’s core was that of a massive windowless stone cylinder that didn’t seem to go all the way down to its base. Around it, large, boxy segments twisted from the bottom of the edifice to a ways below its highest point. The boxes appeared to be connected by much smaller, partially-covered curving walkways. It looked like a long, crooked spinal column with intermittent chunks attached here and there—or like the twisted frame of a hurricane-tossed staircase where o
nly some of the steps remained in place. Even at a layman’s glance, the building certainly didn’t appear to be structurally sound.
“There’s… something even stranger up there,” Cline said, pointing at a bank of clouds high above the mesa. There, Dakkon could see what appeared to be some sort of wall.
The group focused upward as they watched the clouds slowly shift and unnaturally roil around themselves. A glimpse of stone was visible, then obscured, and then visible again. Soon, after a few moments of idle gawking, the clouds parted in such a way that gave the party a better picture of what was floating in the sky.
“I’m not typically a betting man,” said Roth, “but I’d wager we found ‘it.’”
“Have you ever seen anything quite like that?” Cline asked.
“No,” said Dakkon. “You?”
“No way. Never,” said Cline.
Floating in the air, beside a large flock of birds and obscured in part by tumultuous clouds, they could see a large stone fortification.
“Is that really a flying castle?” Mina asked, more surprised than dubious about what she saw.
“Looks like one to me,” said Melee. “How do you think we get up there?”
“Do we want to get up there?” Mina replied, unsure.
“Nothing’s going to stop me from investigating a sky castle,” said Roth. “You can keep that in mind should this scenario ever come up again.”
Mina looked around to weigh the others’ opinions.
“I’m with Roth on this one,” said Dakkon. “It’s… a sky castle.”
“Yeah, Mina,” said Melee. “I’d have figured you’d be all over this one.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a lot to expect out of nowhere,” Mina said defensively. “I mean it’s… just look at it. It can’t be filled with happy things.”
“Well it’s either a game dungeon, or an abandoned castle,” said Dakkon. “Either way, I’m game.”