AbyssalRoadTrip
patreon
Abyssal Road Trip - 140 - History
🕑 Added 2021-11-27 22:44:59 +0000 UTCThe energy of the Gate had faded before Amdirlain finished purifying items. Armour no longer possessed the repulsive feel about it, the images within had stilled and faded. The pikes’ hafts, once purified, had become a deep-blue wood laced through with veins of amber. Fragmented blades had become golden and Analysis showed them as rededicated Celestial-steel.
The Lich’s bracers were another thing completely. An outer layer of metal had cracked and the contents erupting in a white-hot fire had purged the odour of rotting flesh. The Staffs of Creeping Dread had burst into flames—flailing and writhing—while their dark-green stones had simply melted into putrid gunk. Clearly, they didn’t consider soaking in Celestial Mana to be proper maintenance. Telekinesis lofted the fragments upwards, and bolts of Destruction Mana removed all traces.
Planar Shift took her straight to Judgement, and amid a region of grey clouds filled with Souls native to Cemna, she released her passengers. They rushed out and went from enraged into calmness between steps. A haze around them fogged the air with an odour of decay and the damp musty stench of mildew.
“Normally one cleans them before returning them, but the situation is understandable.”
Nodding politely to the Titan’s Servant, Amdirlain motioned to the Souls, still moving languishingly about to gain separation from each. “I didn’t want to take them to the Abyss. I don’t know another place aside from the Treasury.”
“We do not need such to happen. Father agreed to the process and bounty to encourage them not to linger over returning Souls—at least those that weren’t truly theirs to claim,” replied the Servant. It raised one hand and the Souls all vanished along with the haze. “Though they require treatment rather than being left here, given the actions to bind them as undead. Father said he believed you had enough on your to-do list.”
Amdirlain opened her mouth to ask a question, but the Servant had already vanished. A crate remained behind.
“Fine, I’ll just have to bring so many you’re caught up assessing them first.”
The symbol for alchemical reagents on the crate’s side drew a smile before Amdirlain stored it with a friendly pat.
“I’ll get some of those spinels first and drop the lot with Jaixar,” murmured Amdirlain, the smile fading away as she considered the other Souls staring vacantly about them. Soul Sight showed no suffering or awareness, just a wait as the energy enfolding them from their past life bled off slowly, drifting heatwaves dispersing into a cold room.
Two hops later, with four hundred-odd kilograms of gemstones, and Planar Shift gave her a reward even though it didn’t deliver her to where she’d tried to reach.
[Planar Shift (Self) [B](18->19)]
The narrow crevice she’d appeared in possessed a claustrophobic intensity. Around her, the Plane’s energy was a thick, muddy vapour that didn’t let her see an arm’s reach along the crevice. Displaced by Planar Shift, it pushed back against her with bone shearing force.
[Health: -8,000
Resistance: Earth (13->15)]
Her Ki hardened flesh was ground in a vice that made her bones groan. Fingers fractured and her nose broke on the heels of the next notification. The location’s energy took exception to her presence. The haze thickened into rock around flesh and through gaps.
[Health: -12,400
Resistance: Earth (15->17)]
The pressure didn’t just ramp up but spiked hard, even with her improved Resistance, and she teleported away. Amdirlain shifted form rapidly, and a moulded rock dropped free. Once she was sure nothing else was in the passage near Duskstone, she nudged it with a foot. Shredding the rock that had filled her throat and lungs, she considered the last damage being squashed between it and outer forces had caused.
[Health: -42,800
Resistance: Earth (17->19)]
Reformed by her transformation, she still ached from the injuries inflicted. Amdirlain knelt to rest—a hand rubbing gently at her recently broken jaw as concealed eyes watched her surroundings.
Her entry into Duskstone had again been simple. The guards took her statement readily enough and provided her directions to the Foundry for her scrap. Though she planned to stop there only after teasing Jaixar, this time as she approached, the front windows of the shop were wide open. The familiar yet strange energy radiating from it made sense when she looked inside.
Instead of Jaixar behind the counter sat a Mediterranean woman with a clear complexion. Her round face was almost too perfectly symmetrical, only a few offset freckles avoiding it. The gentle lopsided smile wasn’t the greeting Amdirlain expected from any of the Greek Gods. Traditionally garbed as statues she’d seen of her, the red linen wasn’t the colour Amdirlain had pictured Hestia wearing. It made her bronzed complexion, deep chestnut hair, and gaze stand out, framed as it was by the bright red.
“No, before you ask, I merely purchased out her shop lease. Jaixar’s now in a bigger location. I can give you directions if you’d like,” said Hestia, her tone bordering on apologetic in her choice of Celestial phrasing. “You left quite an interesting energy impression upstairs. I’ve cleared that up for you.”
Amdirlain sighed and considered Hestia seriously. “I’m not looking to speak to any of you.”
“Not true. Bast told me you’d spoken to Ra, various Norse representatives, including one that didn’t go so well; even Mars speaks nicely of you. Though some others haven’t formed an opinion as yet.”
The longer she continued, the livelier her smile became, but Amdirlain refrained from interrupting, simply moving to the doorway.
“I’ve seen what’s going on in Judgement,” replied Amdirlain calmly, her fingers lightly tapping on the doorframe. “I’m expected to believe someone from your Pantheon would come looking for me with good intentions?”
Hestia’s smile faded, and she moved her scarf aside to display the Lichtenberg figure running down along her neck that started at what remained of her left ear. Burst capillaries that should have been red, showing black against her skin.
“Former,” corrected Hestia, letting the scarf fall back in place. “I left Olympus. As you can see, my brother has made it quite clear what will happen if I return.”
“Was that Z’s doing? Are you going to be alright?” Amdirlain asked. True Sight showed energy still flooded the wound. The burst capillaries writhed with energy, a seething fire front burning into the flesh that opposed it.
“My baby brother, or Z as you call him, is furious—murderously enraged even. It will heal in time. I was trying to talk some sense into him and received this for my trouble. You might have seen what’s going on, but I’m sure word about Olympus hasn’t reached you; I’ve not heard the events even being gossiped about anywhere,” Hestia said, beckoning her inside again. “You are quite difficult to track down, but that’s just as well. Then again, some of my own false leads bit me a few times.”
Watching in disbelief as Hestia folded up the freshly mended shirt and set it on the counter, Amdirlain slipped inside the shop. “Why would I want to know anything about Olympus?”
“You should be aware, so you know the danger it places you in outside Judgement. The repercussions for the Hoplite who attacked you are being continually repeated, along with a simple message from the Titan. The Titan. That sounds so ominous to me. I prefer to call him Nicholaus, a High Priestess of mine picked that name for him when he was a baby,” rambled Hestia.
“What are the repercussions?” Amdirlain asked. Unsure of what was going on, she held herself ready to move. Yet she fought the urge to just leave immediately, not wanting to drop Duskstone in a mess.
“The power that transformed him into a Celestial has been reclaimed. His memories purged, and Nicholaus set him back as a blank slate on the wheel of life. The replay will continue until brother learns humility,” replied Hestia, and paused thoughtfully. “I wonder if it’ll stop if he ceases to exist, as that’s likely to happen first.”
The stitching of a long rip in the shirt completed Amdirlain watched as she folded it neatly. “Do they know who’s mending their shirts?”
The lopsided smile returned as Hestia picked another from the pile and started stitching. “Obviously a strange eccentric Human woman. Why else take over an artificer’s shop to mend clothing for a pittance?”
“How did you track me down?” Amdirlain asked. Not taking her eyes off Hestia, she put up concealments to prevent their conversation carrying despite their use of Celestial.
Hestia gave a broad shrug, the motion not interrupting the smoothness of her stitching. “Luck. Well, luck and Dwarven maker’s marks. When I asked the Egyptian Pantheon directly, Bast told me to hop on my chariot. The Norse won’t speak to me, and the Dwarven Pantheon hasn’t spoken to us in a few hundred years. A bunch of items with the same clearly Dwarven maker’s mark coming through the Adventurers’ Guild caught the eye of a few of my followers. You’re tied to new things. It’s easy to watch for them, especially when they cause such stirs.”
“I’m surprised the Dwarven Pantheon hasn’t told you to leave,” said Amdirlain.
“Oh, I think my situation amuses them. The first rat to leave the sinking ship,” Hestia replied, her tone gaining a self-deprecating edge. “I’m being very careful not to interfere with any of their worshipers—except giving paid help while I wait. I find mending relaxing. Sometimes one just needs to sit and deal with the mundane.”
“Is your family really like the tales the Mortals have?” asked Amdirlain. Taking a step inside the shop, she leaned casually against the outer wall. “If they are, then your family is pretty fucked up,”
Hestia nodded and fell silent, quickly stitching a long tear in the shirt before adding it to the mended stack. “Oh, they’re becoming worse than the tales now. I hoped things would be different. They’d been getting worse before the Dragons drove us from Greece. Our siblings falling while trying to execute our brother’s plot stopped the decline, temporarily. Now though, a Mithra prophecy has Apollo worked up, especially after his latest Oracle confirmed it—poor girl. He’s trying to ensure he comes out on top, and Z doesn’t want to lose another.”
“I’ve heard trying to change the future can sometimes cause it to come about,” cautioned Amdirlain.
“Says the one without destiny. The sisters tried to find you in their threads. Nothing but tangles left in your wake, so many they expected to die still alive. They enlisted a Demoness to cut a key thread that was resisting their efforts, but that just made things worse,” Hestia remarked.
Amdirlain gaze narrowed suspiciously at the mention of a Demoness but kept silent until Hestia’s account paused. “What Demon?”
“Epochē is one of her names,” replied Hestia, and nodded at Amdirlain’s recognition.
“Do you know anything about whose thread they’ve been trying to cut?” asked Amdirlain.
Hestia wiggled her hand, and just held up fingers slightly separated. “It belongs to a child that died—given its shortened length; something restored her thread unexpectedly is all they know. They can no longer read the thread or those immediately involved in its tangle,”
Amdirlain froze for a moment before nodding her thanks to Hestia. “If she dies from their meddling, I’ll end them painfully. I hope the tangles break their loom.”
“Who knows? The pressures just might,” conceded Hestia. “Be careful. My siblings and the others are arrogant, but they aren’t powerless to retaliate. You should likely use a far more distinct face dealing with Mortals, the differences between the golden-skinned Elf and the Wood Elf form you wear now is minimal. I’d suggest you ensure that any of your Temples founded near Greece do not have your likeness in them.”
Do they not know about the Anar?
“Your followers saved more than they know. The Sahuagin would have inflicted a slaughter among the Norse and Egyptians, yet for all their initial successes, they got smacked down. The knot around the key thread is just growing greater, and none of the threads involved are allowing the shears to touch them. While some have broken, the Moirai haven’t been able to sever even one.”
“Why the warning?” asked Amdirlain.
“We’ve had our time, just like the Titans before us,” murmured Hestia. ”Perhaps, if we hadn’t come here, fewer people would have suffered.”
“I’d say more than perhaps,” declared Amdirlain. “Why did you come here?”
“We were desperate,” Hestia admitted, continuing before Amdirlain could speak. “Our homeworld changed and left us behind. Other Powers had taken our place among Mortals hearts. The sun was setting in Olympus and promised to never rise again.”
“I meant, why come and find me?” corrected Amdirlain dryly, unsure about the admission.
Hestia snorted in amusement. “We certainly have a different perspective on things. The immediate: why am I here? After I moved my Domain, I felt I should find the catalyst for all the change washing against so many hearths. I spoke to one of his mechanicals in Judgement and they said to seek the new.”
“He’s a Titan. Why would he give you any useful advice? Why did you even trust him for refuge?”
“Not a Titan. He’s the last of them, to my knowledge. Those we didn’t kill had faded before we came here, gone into a slumber beyond reach. Nicholaus has always kept his word, regardless of what others think. He promised us a place of refuge, where we could have new followers; he never promised that we would keep them forever. There were rules that others seeking refuge had agreed to, and there wasn’t any negotiation allowed. He was such a sweet child, happy to watch the Temple Smith work for hours until others drew them into their games; then he learnt how to be merciless.”
The tales she’d read in both lifetimes came to mind, and with Hestia here she couldn’t resist asking a question. “Did Kronos really swallow you?”
Suppressing her laughter, Hestia still couldn’t hold back all of it, and her giggling sounded as girlish as Tickles’ own. “No, he imprisoned us in the depths of Tartarus, away from the imprisoned Cyclopes. Unlike the Plane here, it was a place that didn’t abide Powers. While there, our strength faded—perhaps more precisely, Kronos siphoned it from us—until we had nearly Mortal limits. The collected power was what he’d used to break us free and slay the Kampê. I would have been the strongest, but I lost nearly everything in Tartarus. The power was in his control when he broke us out and he only allowed certain aspects of it to return, he kept a large portion for himself.”
“What was the boulder in the tale?” Amdirlain asked curiously.
“My brother slew his twin sister in the womb; her body was what Rhea gave to Kronos with the birth cord still wrapped around her neck,” replied Hestia sadly. “He claimed it was self-defence to prevent her from doing the same to him. Now her only memorial is a boulder in that tale; Rhea didn’t even give her a name.”
Amdirlain motioned about the shop. “Are you planning to remain here?”
“No, I just set this avatar here in the hopes I could warn you,” Hestia replied. A tiny pulse of power ran through the clothing before it and Hestia vanished.
“Hope the Dwarves get their clothing back,” Amdirlain muttered, and eased back out the door, and pulled the concealments down as she departed. “So much for giving directions.”
* * *
With the business arrangement they had, Clan Gildenshield’s receptionist had known Jaixar’s new shop, and the directions had been easy to follow. As she approached Amdirlain took in the freshly shaped Artificer motif with its scattering of vials, reagents, and pouches, symbolising alchemical products. Enchanted glass filled the broad shop window rather than the shelf format of the previous shop, inside she could see another stone countertop. A forge stood against one wall, while workbenches set out for different purposes filled a space bigger than a high school classroom. Past the workbenches stood a smaller glassed-in area with tables set up containing various apparatus in place, but only a few were in use. There were no stairs, but a few sturdy doors prevented her from seeing everything.
She took in the sight of Jaixar watching Salnox carefully engrave a rune into a copper disk’s rim. The trickle of Mana flowing through the inscribing tool was subtly different in True Sight to her own rune inscriptions. When Salnox set her engraver aside to reposition the piece, Amdirlain gently cleared her throat.
“Keep going until you’ve got the outer boundary set, then those runes will stabilise each other,” Jaixar said, giving Salnox a pat on her shoulder before turning to the counter. “You’ll be on your own a bit Salnox, the troublesome one is back.”
“I’m troublesome?” questioned Amdirlain cheerfully.
“In a most interesting fashion, but you have a tendency to turn things upside down Amdirlain,” replied Jaixar, the crinkles around her eyes giving away her amusement.
Amdirlain narrowed her eyes dramatically and set thirty arm greaves on the counter. “I’ve four hundred sets of armour, figured you could do with some steel.”
“I told you not to bring scrap,” grumbled Jaixar, waving her hands in dismay.
“I’m troublesome, remember.” Amdirlain retorted and laughed at the face Jaixar pulled. “I’m joking. Those go to the Foundry, along with the rest of it. I stopped in to find if it would be best to get it cast into a particular form. Would you prefer ingot, bar, plate, or rod?”
Jaixar muttered under her breath until Amdirlain had finished storing the greaves. “Small ingots are what I’ve been using mainly. Though a dozen of their short rods would let me cut plenty of disks.”
“Should I get them to do the same for this?” asked Amdirlain, smiling broadly at Jaixar’s stunned mullet expression when the Celestial steel appeared.
Jaixar looked over the shattered axe blade, and her gaze grew concerned at the engraved runes.
“I had to rededicate the steel; it had been,” Amdirlain paused, groping for a suitable word. “misused, shall we say?”
“Misused, when did you get so mild in your language?” Jaixar asked. Setting the pieces down quickly, she started wiping her hands down her apron front. “Talk to the foundry Master for those, don’t let them out of your sight until they’re melted. I know enough that the patterns set my teeth on edge. A Master Artificer might insist on more caution.”
“The weapon’s blade had Wraiths bound into each,” admitted Amdirlain.
“Hope you’ve broken all of them,” declared Jaixar, and relaxed at Amdirlain’s quick nod. “Is there anything in particular you’re after this visit?”
“Items against the undead along with Death and Negative Mana. Fairly common things, I’m sure,“ Amdirlain teased.
“Just some simple things, is it then?” Jaixar quipped, rolling her eyes in dismay. “Can’t help you with any of that quickly, unless you want some elixir of flames breath for the undead.”
Amdirlain shrugged casually. “What can I say? Sometimes simple things need to be dealt with. I have some more reagents to trade.”
“In that case, I’ll bring a mop to the auction hall so I can avoid slipping on the drool,” noted Jaixar dryly. “Once Salxor finishes stabilising her runes, I’ll go with you to talk to the Foundry Master.”
“Well, why don’t you have a look at these purple spinels while we wait. Let me know if I should take them to a gem-cutter or if they’re useful to you as is,” said Amdirlain, and a dozen rattled across the stone counter. The way Jaixar’s eyebrows shot up at the thumb-sized gemstones was funny enough, so she couldn’t help but explain further. “I’ve got about four hundred kilograms of them from a Mana line in the Outlands.”
* * *
The business at Duskstone hadn’t kept her long, but still hours more than she’d expected. Arriving back in her Domain, she half expected to get a scolding from Ebusuku but found her busy talking with Malnar and Sage. The passionate Dwarven Architect not holding back in arguing with them both. A broad grassy field beyond them held Archons kneeling in guided meditation around Farhad.
“I really think you need fortifications,” argued Malnar as Amdirlain approached. The Architect sounded frustrated in her conversation with Ebusuku and Sage.
“Malnar,” Amdirlain said, and when the group turned, she gave the Architect a smile. “I know we’ve had you busy supervising housing and simple halls. I was wondering if you’d like a more interesting project.”
“What did you have in mind?” Malnar asked suspiciously.
“I wanted a large crafting complex built including some tailored space for alchemical work,” explained Amdirlain, noting the sudden gleam of interest in the Dwarf’s gaze at the word large.
“You’ll want sturdy structures for Alchemists in case things get exciting,” cautioned Malnar.
Amdirlain gestured towards the valley’s closest edge. “Do you think there are any suitable spots along the valley wall where you could set crafting spaces into the rock?”
Malnar stroked her beard and looked up thoughtfully at Amdirlain. “Not a bunker, though?”
Amdirlain nodded in confirmation. “Certainly not wanting it from a bunker perspective, rather a solid place where Petitioners and others can learn new crafts. Setup with various levels looking out over the valley. I don’t want it spreading out and taking out a lot of trees.”
“Has Moradin been in your ear?” asked Malnar happily.
“I like your boss, but learning new things doesn’t hurt,” replied Amdirlain, the memory of their talk bringing forth a bright smile. “Plus, Berronar mentioned that the familiar helps with change. If they don’t possess the crafting skills initially, most would be familiar with some aspects of crafting. It would also give an opportunity for those looking to learn new things; even I’d like to learn some crafts. A change from fighting and a chance to create instead.”
Malnar patted her pockets and pulled out a grease pen and a slate. “How many crafts are you thinking to include?”
“Let us talk about what crafts they normally have in a sizeable town.” countered Amdirlain, motioning towards the mead hall. “After you.”
“O’Nai took those training as rangers out to meet some of the Clan to get their perspective on things,” offered Ebusuku. A look of amusement replaced the frustration that had been present when Malnar was arguing with them both.
“Thanks, Ebusuku,” Amdirlain said, gesturing at herself. “See, I even made it home in one piece.”
“All that proves is you’re in one piece now. Not how many pieces you left behind,” retorted Ebusuku, and laughed when Amdirlain pouted.
Comments
Glenn Wright
Maybe I should have used a different term to suit the culture - but the Titan's message in Olympus is continually repeating. Then again it's been a few chapters. They see an image of the Hoplite's attack, his essence being purged of memories, and then the Titan gives his message to Zeus. And it goes again.
Arkeus
I am confused by Hestia's talk of 'replay'. What does it mean?
