Orup raised an eyebrow at the comment about a giant frog, shifting uneasily. "I s'pose I could have it much worse, hm. At least I'm not a swordsman like yourself--then I would really be in trouble. But once I got used to this size, I could brew with the best still. Which reminds me..."

He crossed their campground and headed for the perimeter, craning his head left to right as he looked for a gap in the trees. After a moment he stopped, one particular section thinning out enough to see the sky; specifically, he could see what dominated the skyline. A tall--well, it couldn't be called more than enormous hill--rose steeper than the surrounding rises, leading to a point of sorts that was considerably higher than other places in the rainforest. This place was full of those features as they created the ravines and caves that much of the wildlife needed to survive. Importantly for them, you would be able to see for miles up there.

"I've got an idea that should cut our travel time down by a few days, I think. I've been spotting some skyleaf around these parts, and with it I can craft something that'll let us fly over most of the journey, I think."

---

John almost opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong but thought better of it. No use arguing with an outsider, he supposed. The only place they needed to get was to the village, and wasted words would just take breath they could use for a quicker pace. Face never changing, he focused on placing one foot in front of the other.

The return walk seemed to go quicker than leaving had taken, but he knew that the minutes were far more valuable too. Within the span of an hour and a half the village was in sight. The section of the Great Wall they defended had been torn open, and monster's bodies of every sort littered the field. From Thimbelatch, black smoke rose lazily, as if it had no cares in the world, but it looked as if there were no fires still burning. From here, he couldn't see anyone moving in the streets, but he hoped that meant they were just inside tending the wounded.

"Come on," he urged her. Breaking into a run, he intended to get there as soon as he could manage now.

Rua paused in his cooking--this time cutting up some fish he'd purchased in Rogueport to put into the soup--and looked up at Orup, mildly confused. "Fly? You mean you can make a potion to let us fly?" Just what depths did alchemy and potionmaking get to these days? "Is that even safe?"

Atalanta nodded once, her expression set at the sight of the village, and switched off the safety on her blaster before breaking out into a run herself, quickly following her companion into the village limits.

The heavyset alchemist squinted a bit, trying to judge the distance to the top of that hill. "Well, fly is probably not the best term. It's more akin to a very long glide. A weightless potion from a great height combined with a small amount of propulsion could send us for miles before we touched the ground. It's perfectly safe, the only trouble is landing in the right spot..."

---

When John finally stepped into the boundaries of the town, he couldn't help but frown. The damage was worse than he had imagined when he saw no buildings ablaze, but there had really been no way to tell from a distance. All the fires were put out, but plenty of human bodies littered the streets, and while no living monsters were in sight any longer, a good third of the buildings had been razed.

"In a true emergency with a breach of the wall, the townspeople are supposed to gather themselves off in the town hall, where the walls are thickest and doors are heaviest. It should be right around this corner..." he trailed off as it came into sight, and he stopped slowly.

At the foot of the stairs leading into the largest building in the town square were the remaining dozen men who had run back to defend the town, their carcasses strewn across the stones in what looked like a last attempt to defend the building. The doors inside were splintered and destroyed, and light beyond them seemed dim.

It didn't make any sense to him. It was as if the monsters knew to target this one building. If Thimbelatch had been defeated so handily, why wasn't the whole place in flames? Searching for something? Someone? Maybe she had been right about a force controlling the monsters.

It didn't take long for him to see what Mepple was looking at, and figure out what exactly it was and the general idea of what the alchemist hoped to accomplish. All things considered, it would be a wise idea to cut down the travel time, but the choice in travel was...

Rua shook his head, and went back to his preparations, finishing up the fish and adding it to the cheese and pumpkin already in the boiling soup. "Well, we'll see what our options are once we get up there today," he suggested, not at all comfortable with the idea of flying or gliding aided with naught but an imbibed concoction. Relayia looked up at him and chirped, snatched up a piece of fish, and took to the air to devour it.

Atalanta reeled at the sight of the dead in Thimbelatch, horrified at the massacre. This many had died in only a few scant hours? Just how few men had the village had to defend it? She saw how well John did against the golem, so surely the men could've put up a hell of a fight. What had slaughtered them so easily?

She picked her way through the bodies and rubble as she followed John through the ruins of the town, hunkered low to reduce her profile and doing her best to not make any sounds. The bounty hunter was certain that there would be fighting here today, but it was best not to invite it to happen on anyone's terms but their own.

They came to a stop at one building with its doors smashed inwards, but otherwise intact. Judging from the pattern of destruction in Thimbelatch, whoever had come here had known what they were doing, had known what they had wanted, and weren't going to waste any time than was necessary to get there. A third of the buildings had been destroyed, but it all seemed to lead in a path to this one spot. A quick look around gave Atalanta the impression that the rest of the area around the one building was untouched.

She laid her free hand on John's shoulder and nodded towards the door. "I get the feeling whatever destroyed the town has already left," she said quietly. "But if they haven't, they're still in there. We need to check out what they were after, and then find any survivors."

Orup nodded, walking back to the fire and sniffing at the soup suspiciously. It smelled bland but otherwise seemed hearty; the type of thing people ate to stay alive, not because they enjoyed it. It would have to do, but he made a mental note to take over the cooking later. On a thought, he maneuvered over to his pack and extracted two mildly yellow vials of similar size.

As he offered one to Rua, he explained. "Stamina potion, for the hike. With one of these, even someone like me can run up a mountain and not be tired."

---

"Big enough to destroy buildings but smart enough to choose which ones," John replied thoughtfully, putting the dead men out of his mind. He eased the sword out of its sheath and took a step toward the building again, glancing over his shoulder at Atalanta, "Keep an eye behind us and stay close." Maybe it was just the sheer destruction around them, but something made him feel even uneasier than right before the golem had attacked. Whatever had done this was still nearby, but that didn't mean they would ever see it.

"Looks a bit different from the ones I've used," Rua commented, examining the pale yellow fluid in the vial while stirring in a few more ingredients in the soup. Most ones he saw were often green or white in color. "More potent than the usual stamina potion?"

He pocketed the vial and started stirring up the soup. He knew it wasn't going to be as good as it could be--back before, he had left meal-making to her--but he had still felt a little bit of annoyance at the brief flash of disappointment on the alchemist's face when he examined the meal. He wasn't that bad of a cook, and his soup would taste better than it looked. "Just how long have you been working on the craft?" he asked, continuing the discussion about Mepple's profession.

Atalanta crept silently after John, eyes scanning the streets and alleys leading up to the building, but seeing nothing but corpses unnerved her. She was used to token patrols, and used to dealing with occupational forces. Those places in her experiences where the place was devoid of life were often ancient ruins, in which nothing but animals had visited in recent years.

This place was once full of living people, living their lives and trying to defend the Great Wall, until now. Now... this place was full of ghosts. She wondered how John was holding up. Hopefully, if he was half the soldier he seemed to be, he was putting it aside to deal with the current situation, and grieve later.

Edited by RisingDragon on May 6, 2015 at 23:35:12

"Oh, since I entered the game... Oh, I have no idea how long it's been. Several years, anyway. I was apart of the Alchemist's Guild in Minervum for the years when it was stronger, but numbers of us backed off of it when things got out of hand. Did you know--the Master Chemist designed what he called the Elixir of Impossible Drought? I saw what it could do. He wanted to use it in Kemei and reduce half the continent to a boneyard! Anyway, the Guild Master got wind of it and sent him and his cronies out the door. After that it all got real political and half the people remaining left over the next few months. Since that whole thing I've been on my own, looking for new recipes and secrets. Someday I would like to find that Chemist, though, and make sure he's not up to no good... But you've got me rambling boy, so sorry for that." Orup harumphed briefly, straightening his pants and stroking his mustache distractedly as he thought of something more reciprocal to ask.

"How long have, ah, you been a swordsman in this game? You said you were a Theta?" Dangerous thing to admit, come to think of it. He had almost missed him mentioning it with how caught up in his own thoughts he had been.

---

They reached the doors, and John peered inside. Some candles guttered on their stems, but otherwise the place was dark. For a moment he paused, considering his options. If something was hiding in the shadows, he had already lost any element of surprise, but he still wasn't prepared to announce himself either. Stepping over broken furniture, he pursued the darkness, stepping deeper into the building as he made his way toward the main room. The door was ajar and, after a second of thought, he entered into the still torch-lit room. The sight made him tense immediately.

Standing in the center of the room were two figures, one battered and bloody and the other robed in blackness. Both had blades drawn, and each one side-stepped the other with a limp. For a long second, time seemed to crawl as the blackened creature turned to face John, and he felt his stomach try and unpack itself from the emotion that coursed through him. In that glance it seemed to size the entire room up, and the other man wasted no time.

Human blade struck black robe, and the creature vanished at once, smoke replacing its body and dissipating almost at once. John breathed again for what felt like the first time in years, his stomach still twisted up. What sort of emotion could make a person feel sick? And at a glance?

Across the room, the human figure crumpled in exhaustion, his sword falling to the side as he hit the ground without almost any restriction. Cursing, John ran across the room. The man he recognized now was Shemram, the elder of the village who had refused to go on their expedition, but just from where he lay the wounds on him seemed fatal at best, torturous at worst.

Running to his side, John dropped to his knees, reached to tear the man's shirt off to make bandages, and then stopped. It would be a waste of effort, he could see. Already Shemram's eyes seemed to wander, and it was all John could do to even look at him. Was this it, then? That sickness threatened to return, but he fought it back.

"Shemram, are the others alive? The women and children?" John managed to ask, refusing to discuss the man's imminent death. He would be soldier. He would take the duty. Death came to everyone. Gritting his teeth, the sickness pushed harder, and he buried it deeper.

"Safe," came the man's hoarse reply. "But there is no time..." he trailed off, looking past John toward where he had entered. "Is she here? The... the one the prophecies say must come. I must speak with her before my time passes."

Rua could only shake his head in amused exasperation at the tale that Mepple wove about the Guild he had been a member of. He'd heard some crazy stories about guildmembers in the past, but he didn't think that alchemists of all people would try to cause that level of trouble for people. He gave a thoughtful hum at the man's own question to him, and Relayia took the moment to land on his shoulder with another chirp.

"Yeah, I'm a Theta, and being a swordsman... well, that was since I first started playing, I suppose," Rua admitted as he mixed the ingredients into the soup, which was almost ready. He explained as he stirred. "As far as combat goes in this game, if you're familiar with some method of fighting in the real world, you have a bit of an advantage here, because you don't need nearly as much training. Myself, I had taken martial arts before. Part of that training was learning how to use a machete in combat. I just adapted using my longsword," he said, nodding to the weapon on his back, "And I just went from there."

It was then that Atalanta descended down into the dimly-lit chamber, blaster at the ready, as she had heard the sound of two people conversing. She had refrained from entering right away, having felt the telltale sign of the hair on her neck standing on end, the sign of having been watched. She stayed in the entryway for a moment, trying to find if there had been anyone coming in after her and John, waiting to see if it was something she'd need to kill.

But there had been nothing, and she quickly turned her attention to the depths of the building that John had wandered into. What she found was her companion huddling over an older man who lay dying on the floor. She stepped over quickly, kneeling down to examine the extent of his injuries. Atalanta grimaced at what she saw--unless there was a mage with the talent for healing in the next room over, there was no saving this man.

She hadn't heard what they spoke earlier. Instead, she looked at John. "He doesn't have much time left. Does he know what happened here?" she asked.

"Sounds dangerous," Orup murmured, seating himself on an upturned stone not far from the fire as he watched the pot complacently. "But I don't suppose I have much room to talk. I came out here on rumor of giant spiders with venom that can chew through steel. In the right brews, I figured, you could do almost anything. Imagine this! A flashfire potion that, when crushed, could burn a hole through a concrete bunker, a ship's hull, or anything else you might think of. The possibilities are endless..." He trailed off, now in sudden deep thought over other things he might use it for.

---

Shemram's eyes lit up as she drew near, and John could tell that fever was already taking him. Once a man of stoic conviction, he now seemed to grapple with clarity, but the older man spoke anyway, straining for each word. "It is you. The virgin who dedicates herself to no man, only the hunt. You must... you must go. Back into the blight, back beyond the Wall. Take her where we found you, John. She will find what she seeks there, and you as well."

The man's chest heaved, struggling for breath after so much speaking, and John leaned in closer to try and support him somehow. "What do you know about me, Shemram?" he demanded. "And of her? An outsider? I must know!"

Shemram opened his mouth as if to speak, but he couldn't seem to manage the strength. Instead, he reached for his belt pouch, pulling out a piece of parchment that was folded and looked well read. Even as he lifted his hand up to give the thing to John, the old man closed his eyes and died, leaving the two alone now in the room.

"If that shit can burn through steel, you might need a better cauldron," Rua suggested dryly, gesturing with the ladle he had been stirring the soup with. "Still, you're kinda nuts to come out here just for spiders."

Lord, he hated spiders. He shivered momentarily and then dipped the ladle back into the pot. "Okay, this is done," he declared while reaching for a couple bowls. "Eat up. Flying or not, it's gonna be a long trek."

"... what was that about?" Atalanta asked as she turned her gaze away from the corpse and to John, eying the scroll Shemram had given him. Virgin who dedicates herself to no man? Only the hunt? She got the feeling she was gonna burst someone's bubble here.

Orup was off his seat in an instant, ready to receive his food. This new body of his left him ravenously hungry most of the time, and trying to skip a meal was usually disastrous to his mood. "It's more than just the spiders," Orup replied, helping himself to some of the soup. "The natives in these areas practice alchemy in a completely different fashion than anywhere else. Same basic principles, but they have curious ways of drawing out potency and revealing new effects of old herbs. Quite fascinating, really."

---

"I don't know," John replied honestly, easing the corpse in his arms to the ground gently. Shemram was a good man. Had been a good man, anyway. Generation after generation had lived and died defending this wall, and now it all came to an end just like that? He had trouble wrapping his mind around it.

As he stood, he unfolded the piece of paper briefly and skimmed it quickly before folding it up again with a sigh. The Fourth Prophecy of Kasdim-Ur? What he needed right now were clear answers and directions, and this scrap was anything but. He turned to Atalanta next. "Shemram died believing you were more important than this town, apparently. That I should let this place burn, let the Wall be breached, to help you find something. Do you have any reason to believe he was right? Otherwise you can find me at the breach for as long as I can until it's over. This... this is all I know."

"That's the nature of magic, or so I'm told," the swordsman remarked as he spooned out some of the soup for himself. He gave the leftover pieces of fish to Relayia, who was busy devouring them in a ravenous manner befitting something much larger than her. "Something about not settling to just memorize and recite, but to apply and derive."

At least, that's what he thought how the saying went. He hadn't much success in magic himself, given the limited timeframe he had between school and work, but now that he was a Theta, he had a surplus of free time on his hands.

"... I can't promise you anything," Atalanta told John neutrally. After what the man had been through, what he had witnessed--his town butchered, a good friend slain, his entire life uprooted in the space of a morning--she knew he didn't deserve a lie from her. "What I can tell you is that I was sent here to find information on something. A set of somethings, really. I was given a lead and a crappy ship and not much else, but I've found my bounties on less before."

She held her hand out for the parchment John had been given. "If that man knew something--if what happened here was related to what I'm after--then I need to know before I can tell you whether or not you should trust him. You think you can accept that?"

"It's unbelievably complex," Orup replied as he dug into his own food. "Like the artificial intelligence and, well, the entire world, they made something that didn't have to be consciously established. They guided the process of course, but the final product is still now being unpacked and explored all these years later. Mostly, you just have to stick to one vein and devote yourself to it, I think. Well, it worked for me, anyway. At the end of the day, though, any mage or alchemist or bombcrafter or any other profession will always need bodyguards and strong men to keep them alive. It's... ah... why I came crawling back to Rogueport like this."


---


John considered her for a minute, eyeing her hand warily. How much did he trust this woman? Was a half garbled sentence from a feverish man enough to sign away any hope Thimbelatch had left? After some time, though, he sighed and handed her the scroll. If Shemram was wrong, it ended with his death anyway, so how much could it matter? He did not think he could stop the horde on his own, but that did not mean he would not try.

The scroll read as follows:

"Not everyone's cut out for combat in this world," Rua agreed after swallowing another spoonful of soup. "That's why a lot of people party up and work together."

He ate another spoonful and glanced aside. "Well, unless you're a monster like the White Devil or the Four Gods of the Earth. But that's an entirely different story, I suspect."

Atalanta took the scroll and flicked it open with a snap of her wrist, unfurling it and holding it between her hands at the top and bottom of the page. She glanced at the title, then recited the prophecy to herself under her breath once, then twice. Her eyes narrowed in the dim light as she considered the cryptic words.

It was pretty obvious at this point that Shemram thought she was the one they were referring to in the second verse of this prophecy. She wasn't quite sure on how to interpret what it said about her, but it seemed pretty clear that the man laying dead at their feet was convinced she fit the requirements. She had indeed come to this place from the sky. She wasn't a virgin--the proof of that had been around for four years in the real world--but she certainly wasn't dedicated to any man, and she'd often delved into the game when the stress was too much to bear, to pour some energy into something enjoyable to her. She wasn't sure what the winged feet was about, but if this was indeed her, she'd find out.

She looked up at John, rereading the first verse, and thought of the destroyed village, and how he was seemingly the only fighting man left. Was Shemram under the impression that he was the other one spoken of in this prophecy?

She wasn't sure what to think. The concept of a prophecy about a player was absurd to her, but she had nothing else to work with here, and John needed answers. Answers she still wasn't sure were correct. She lowered the scroll and turned her full attention to the man in green armor. "He said you should take me to where they found you," she stated. "If that wasn't just madness from his wounds, that means you're not from around these parts, right?"

Tsuminar


Larent faltered for a moment, caught off guard by a residual ping showing a message in his inbox. "I . . ." He trailed for a moment, stalling for time. A quick swipe of his right index finger brought up the overlay directly in front of his face, transparent enough so he could see through it, but just legible enough to read. Handily allowing him to make it appear as though his full attention was still on Aleina, even as he tracked the contents of the message.

"I will be your subordinate, a junior officer at your beck and call. We are the distraction team, the others will be doing the dirty work." He said as he began drumming his fingers on the table again, this time with a purpose, typing out a swift reply and sending a second message along with it.

Orup swallowed a spoonful, only partially paying attention to Rua's words as he considered more alchemical ideas. "Who?" he asked distractedly. Truth be told, he could get so wrapped up in his plants and cauldrons that the rest of the world might not exist at all sometimes.

---

"This is all that I know," John replied carefully. For him, Thimbelatch was home as certainly as if he had lived there from the day he was born. The kinship he had established, the honor that he had striven for... those things did not feel temporary or relative to time. But it was not the entire picture.

"About a month ago, they found me in a cave, beyond the wall. I don't remember anything before then, only that I could fight just as well as they could. Better, maybe. We agreed on matters of principle. They offered me meals, clothes, and shelter, and I recognized the fight which they fought. I never felt estranged here, but this could not have been my home. Maybe I was from another town that defends the Wall. Maybe I come from someplace else entirely. I had few questions I wanted to ask, and Shemram had fewer answers besides. Whoever I was before they found me is gone, now. The man I am now would be happy to die for this place." He paused, then repeated at last, resignation truly in his voice now. "This is all that I know."

---

Aleina quirked an eyebrow as he received a message, but she followed him closely. Her face turned into a smirk at his role, though. "Me ordering you around... See, you should have led with that one," she replied with a sinister wink, her mind pleased for a moment with the possibilities. Part of her had trouble imagining him as a lapdog, but some of it seemed to fit too. These were the people Elle'n seemed to attract, anyway: those who wished more for proximity than the power itself. A role could just be a role though, of course.

"I'm assuming we won't be talking much with the others, then?"

Tsuminar


"If you turn out to be a raging psychopath, I'd rather you didn't kill my men as well." Larent explained simply, flicking the overlay off with a swipe of his finger again. "We'll arrive in roughly thirty minutes. Give the sheet a lookover. If you're going to want to make any changes to the role, we should iron them out now."

"There's a few players in the game who've become practically unstoppable," Rua clarified, setting his spoon down in a half-empty bowl of soup, using his free hand to gesture He extended one finger. "One of them leads a guild that's sided with Stamaria's government, and the other four are a team that's allied with the Korin. Everyone keeps well away from wherever they go, and for good reason.

"The Four Gods are all mages, from what I understand. Hasn't stopped any of them from just beating the crap out of their enemies with their hands and feet. If anything they just use their magic to bolster their own natural capabilities. They say getting cornered by one may as well be a death sentence."

Rua briefly glanced aside, frowning. "And the White Devil... he's just a monster in combat. He doesn't... he's probably the strongest player in the game. He could handicap himself twice over and still come out on top nine times out of ten. But he... the White Devil doesn't play by the rules."

He shook his head. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. It's very unlikely we'll see any of them out here. They're usually stuck in the major military campaigns. We'd be small time to them."

So. A man who had been found in a cave in the lands beyond the Great Wall, with no memory beyond it, but found himself right at home in the harsh wastelands of the far north. A man who had just lost everything he had known in the life he could remember. She glanced back at the scroll, rereading the first passage, then back up at John.

"This is about us," she told him decisively, holding the scroll up again. "I don't know if the second verse is really about me, but it sounds like you fit the description in the first verse. Shemram seemed convinced that this prophecy was talking about us."

She brought it back up to read, focusing now on the third and final passage. "Tradition is ruined, Now the storm beckons: Kneel before the machine," she recited aloud. "Well, harsh as it is to say it, but Thimbelatch's defense of the Wall is over. This prophecy says something bad's about to happen, and that I can believe."

She still remembered what Victor told her, about Oracle and whatever it was that he was going to reveal. About the Arcanum Relics. If that was connected to what happened here in any way... it was definitely going to be big. "We don't have much time, John," she said as she rolled up the scroll and handed it back to him. "We need to get moving."

"The Stamarian," Orup replied thoughtfully, "You sound almost as if you know him. Or knew people who got in his way?" He was no real friend of the Stamarians, but he didn't hate them either. They were useful for making cities civilized and giving access to other resources. He didn't understand the need to pick enemies just for the sake of having them.

---

John considered the scroll now in his hand again, torn between his alternatives. Could it actually be true? He had no reality to compare it against. Even though it conflicted with his sense of duty, though, somehow it seemed right. Gut feelings like that were hardly what you made decisions off of, but nothing about this made any sense to begin with.

"Meet me outside the village in half an hour," he said at finally. "I need to get the women and children on their way and start the fires. The other villages will see the smoke eventually and find the breach, but that's the best we can do."

---

"No promises," she snarked back, though she flipped through the character all the same. "Do you have a uniform for me?"

"... we met, once," Rua admitted after a moment. There was something off about his tone, hinting at a larger story. One that he didn't offer to expand upon, because he said nothing else on the subject. The swordsman didn't take much longer to finish his soup, slurping up the remainders from his bowl.

He set it down and pulled out a couple empty bottle and began to pour the leftovers into them. "No need to waste food," he remarked, with Relayia chirping in agreement from his hand. The beast tried to balance herself on his wrist and lick up any soup that spilled over from the mouth of the bottles, despite Rua's efforts to shake the creature off. "What are you, a needy cat?" he asked the dragonet.

Atalanta nodded once at his order. "I understand."

It was clear to her now that she was now in the thick of this--John was going to see this through, regardless of whether or not the prophecy was about them. She turned back and exited the room, making her way out of the building and towards the breach--it was the quickest way out of here now.

Once there, she blew out a heavy sigh, cold from the harsh elements of the wasteland. She tapped the side of her blaster against her thigh and let go of it, letting the automated functions fold the weapon up and attach itself to her leg magnetically, and sat down on a sizeable chunk of debris.

Most of her equipment was out of commission from the crash, and Thimbelatch didn't have a tech shop she could make use of. Even if they did, there was no one in any condition now to help her repair her gear, leaving it up to her and what meager tools she retained. With another sigh, she brought those tools out from her inventory. At the very least, she could get her thermal regulator back online. Wouldn't do to freeze to death in the coming quest.

Orup moved about the camp as well, packing things up and helping cover up their presence from the previous night. Really, though, he wasn't too concerned with anyone following them--it was hardly as if their mission was adverse to anyone else's. Only a handful of players traipsed through these parts, anyway, and the few he had bumped into had usually been eager to buy some of his potions.

On that thought, he uncorked his stamina potion and downed the thing in a single mouthful, forgetting, out of practice, to grimace from the taste. With a final check, he tugged his trousers up another notch and seated his pack on his shoulders, turning to Rua. "There's a path of sorts that will take us most of the way, not far from here. Once we're out of the overgrowth, I suspect we pick up a reasonable pace."

---

By the time John made his way to the breach as well, the village had begun to burn again. Already the survivors were on their way south-east, though they would not reach another town until the next morning at the soonest. It was all he could do for them. A new sword was on his belt, now--Shemram's sword--and he had replaced his cloak for a fresh one. On his back were enough rations to last them both a week, if necessary, though he hoped they would be in and out before then. The place he wanted to reach would be attainable before nightfall, but he had no idea what would come next.

"Are you ready?" he called to Atalanta, trying not to think of all that he was about to leave behind.

"Let's get to it then," Rua said as he unstoppered his own stamina potion. His nose wrinkled at the scent that immediately wafted from the vial, and with a frown, he downed it in one shot, wincing as the fluid touched his tongue and filled his mouth with the awful taste. He shook his head a bit after swallowing, and grimaced again.

"Medicine here tastes as bad as medicine in the real world," he remarked as he handed the vial back to the alchemist. "Can't do anything about the flavor without changing the whole compound, can you?"

"Ahhmfft," was Atalanta's muffled reply, spoken around the small screwdriver she held between her numbing lips. She was was hunched over sideways, using small tools to fix an electronic device on her waist padding. Setting the tools down, she pulled the screwdriver from her mouth and began replacing the cover to it. "Just need to see if this'll work. Don't need to freeze to death out there."

She finished securing the covering and activated the thermal regulating in her suit, and sighed with delighted relief as the tubing on her suit glowed for an instant, and her outfit began to warm up from within. "Ah, that's much better," she said, standing up and stowing away her tools in her inventory. "It's a quick fix, but better than nothing. Got everything we'll need?"

Tsuminar


"We're intelligence operatives, dear." Larent chided with a smile. "We don't do uniforms." He ended, voice mockingly disdainful.

Orup held up his hands apologetically, giving a small shrug. "You can, but it weakens the mixture. Useful for kids, sometimes, but that's about all, I'm afraid. They do taste foul, though, I'll agree. Unfortunately it's hardly the worst of them." He gave one final glance around the campsite before glancing up at the sky, noting the morning mist was quickly vanishing. They'd be in the heat of the day before they knew it.

"Well, hop to, then!" he said, the stamina potion now kicking in and giving him a boost of strength. Slapping his belly once, he bolted into the trees at a run, now surprisingly nimble despite his girth.

---

"Yeah," John replied simply, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head to shelter him a bit from the cold. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, the nicks from the wolves, bruises from the golem, and exhaustion from the journey were beginning to set in. Even still, he reminded himself they had at least one more leg to go before he could let himself rest.

They walked for one hour after the next, pausing intermittently to check one way or another before deciding on a path. He knew the way well enough, but the lands beyond the Wall tended to shift on you if you weren't careful, and he had no intention of getting lost. Just as the sun was beginning to dip beyond the horizon, though, and the cold was really setting in, he saw their destination.

Before long, they were at the mouth of a large cave that seemed to burrow into a cliff-side and then dig continually downward. At first glance it seemed natural enough, but look a little closer and the walls seemed a little too smooth, a little too intentional.

"Well, here it is," he remarked at last, pausing before fully entering. He knew what was at the bottom and hadn't had any intentions of returning to it before today. "Better keep that weapon of yours ready. It's different, down there, but I would wager just as dangerous."

---

Aleina rolled her eyes, "But of bloody course," she murmured. Stamarians had decorum for everything, except when they didn't. "Do I at least get an ID or badge of some sorts, or is that just part of the job too?" She made a mental note to try and avoid work from Elle'n, if she got through this thing alive. For as stiff as they collectively were, Stamarians were wildcards, and it was only a matter of time before they'd kill you. It wasn't even cynical, just statistical.

Rua blinked in surprise as the obese alchemist darted away towards the hill in the distance, then shook his head with an amused snort before running off after the man, with Relayia gliding through the air after him. They made the distance in record time, as far as the swordsman was concerned, and soon they had scaled the high embankment without breaking a sweat.

"... that's quite a view," Rua said, gazing out across the rainforest canopy, with Relayia perched on his shoulder and gazing with him. Cher Plek's forests could span as far as one could see, and this place was no different. Barely visible on the horizon was the continent's mountains, and off in the distance Rua thought he could see one or two temples peeking out from beneath the treetops. Was one of them Charon-Ur's temple? No way he could tell. He stepped out to the edge and leaned over to look down before backing away quickly. That was a surprisingly long drop to the ground from here.

"So... what's the plan here?" he asked, looking back at the alchemist.

Atalanta had a keen eye in the game, and she was quick to notice the oddity of the cavern's structure upon stepping inside the gap in the Earth. Experimentally she reached out with her left hand and ran her fingers lightly against the wall, noting right away the uniform texture of the rock, too uniform to be natural. Had she seen this phenomenon before? She shook her head and picked up the pace to catch up to John, her blaster at the ready.

"Usually is up in these parts, from what I've seen so far," she remarked to his comment about the danger. "This world's just full of surprises."

"I'll need some time to do the math," Orup said, letting the pack on his shoulders slide down to the ground, exhausted exhilaration in his eyes still. "Ever fancy trigonometry, my boy? I've no intention of flying blindly across these woods... get the angle wrong and who knows where you'll end up." He paused, shielding his eyes against a quickly descending sun. They'd made the journey quickly, but it was still quite a ways they had gone.

"For example," he said, pointing to something out in the distance, not too far to the left from where the peaks of the temples just barely showed. It was a lake of sorts, shimmering in the sunlight. Even from here, it looked as if it stretched itself quite widely, the banks clear of trees for some space. Just looking at it made him think of a relaxing evening on its banks, dangling his toes in the waters. Already he was compelled.

"That," he continued, making his words harsh to snap himself out of it. "Is no lake. It's an enormous carnivorous plant that can create illusions--and not just on your eyes, I should add. Get close enough and you'll feel the cool breeze from the waters... It's mostly for birds I reckon. They fly in and see a nice place to take a dip, then SNAP!" He clapped his hands together once in emphasis. "Thing nearly got me once before I figured it out. Anyhow, I'll take a couple of hours tonight to run the math and measure the distance. Need to brew the batch too. We can step off at first light tomorrow."

---

John nodded and took the first steps into the cave, not bothering to light a torch or lantern. The cave was just naturally lit, though it was hard to describe how. Regardless, the ambient light guided them downward, and he tried not to glance backwards more than once or twice. For all that he had seen today, this place unsettled him the most. After a short walk, though, the ground evened out and so did the walls, becoming truly flat and smooth on all sides. At the end of the tunnel, though, was a wall, squarely set in the hallway and with no way around on either side. As they approached it he sighed, gesturing at the thing.

"Well, this is it. They found me on the floor right right here--not sure what Shemr--" The wall groaned, and he shut his mouth at once, drawing his weapon and taking a step back. As the whole cave shook, the thing slowly pealed back, revealing an enormous room.

A single pillar-like structure dominated the center of it, a large screen sitting on the front with interface tools extending forward. Along the walls were other doors, but they were shut. A cool, emotionless female voice seemed to come everywhere at once.

"Welcome back, Gaidin."

Rua spent a good portion of the day just trying to keep from looking at the illusion-crafting flora off in the distance, forcing the occasional compulsion out of his mind in the same manner anyone else would would do for the compulsion to jump if they were at a height. The game world had some pretty damnable things in it--the swordsman idly wondered why no one had bothered trying to kill the thing, if it was that problematic.

Rua spent the remainder of the evening directing Relayia, gathering up the harder-to-reach Skyleaf that Mepple needed for his potion. As troublesome as the pet could be at times, the past few months had proven the dragonet to be more than useful. He used the time to relax a bit after two nights of no sleep, sitting in a relaxed manner near the ridge of the cliffside, keeping a watchful eye out on the surroundings. As the sun was going down, heat waves rolled across the rainforest canopy--he looked pointedly at it, and not at that blasted illusion off to the side--and he saw what looked to be some sort of structure shimmering into existence through the warping air.

... could that be the lair of Charon-Ur? The possibility of it reminded Rua of EP's instructions, to find out more of the temple from Mepple if he could, and the swordsman turned his gaze back towards where Mepple worked diligently on the potion, with Relayia fluttering lazily around the man, awaiting more possible instruction to fetch some Skyleaf.

"You think that's where we're headed?" Rua called out to catch the man's attention. He nodded his head over towards the shimmering air that hid something within the forest.

Atalanta's reaction to the sudden transformation of the cavern was a mirror of John's, her own weapon darting up and ready to fire as she backed away, her own thoughts wondering where the nearest cover was and irritating that it found absolutely none.

After a moment, though, she realized that there were no others waiting to ambush them, no targets for her to shoot at--at least, not yet. Though she lowered her weapon, she didn't relax just yet. At the sound of the voice that greeted them, Atalanta spoke.

"What... is this place?"

Orup looked up to where Rua was pointing, nodding affirmation. "It's close. 'Ol Charon's temple isn't visible from here. It's hard to see from this spot, but just beyond that temple the plateau we're on breaks and heads down a ways. Once we land, it's a short walk and his place will be in sight. I'm going to line us up to land against the ridge. Should let us get close to the edge without launching us over the basin itself."

He stood up and walked to the edge of their lookout, scratching a diagram into the earth with lines fanning out from a single spot. "Well, that should do it. Let's get the fire rolling and I'll brew the batch."

---

John had no idea. Gaidin? It didn't ring any bells. Swallowing, he looked around the room again, but all was still and silent. After a long pause, he spoke back to voice. "She asked you a question, whoever you are," he said, his own voice cold and maybe a touch bitter.

"Approach the console, Gaidin. Your weapon is not necessary."

He shifted uneasily but made no effort to sheath or even lower his weapon. After a moment, though, he took a step forward again, walking toward the console. The air inside the room was cool but stale, and it made his stomach dance around inside of him. It seemed sterile--like nothing living belonged in it.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the thing, trying to keep his eyes on all corners of the room.

"I am the Integrated Organic Resource Activator: IORA. Your weapon is not necessary."

John opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly the handle grew incredibly hot and the thing fell from his fingers, escaping his hand as he gave out a cry. A flash of anger coursed through him at that, but he let it subside a moment later. He had no idea what this thing or what it was capable of, and if it could disarm him that easily... He didn't need to make an enemy yet.

Truthfully, he didn't know what he needed, but he wondered if Atalanta would know which questions to ask. For now, he settled with a command of his own. "Answer her questions, 'IORA'."

"We do not have time for games, Gaidin, but I will answer questions. This is one of my terminals, where your body was transported approximately one month ago. This terminal represents only one of twenty-four locations to access these nodes. Do you have more questions, or may we proceed?"

John blinked, hopelessly confused. With a shrug, he turned to Atalanta, not sure what to ask next.

Tsuminar

Tsuminar Proper



"ID badges we have. Not traditional, but amusing nonetheless." He scrabbled his hand to a small container bolted to the wall, hovering just above the metal desk. From within he pulled a pair of small round coins, at first glance, no different than the currency that traveled the continent. He tossed one of the small, weathered coins to Aleina.

Once in her hands, she'd find it strikingly similar to the more regular fare of the streets. One key difference in the fact that where most coins had an engraving of the capitol tower of Tsuminar on the one side, and a second engraving of the Great Wall on the other side. This coin replaced the great wall with an engraving of the Stamarian Tower in the center of the city. The two towers, while distinct, could easily be forgiven as a misprint, a unique coin, but not suspicious.

"Our calling cards in Tsuminar. Suitably prissy, yes?" He pocketed the second. "When we go in, we'll be pushy. Where you push, I will sneer and back you up. If you run into something you can't handle, say "I don't have time for this." I'll step in as the extra pushy aide and carry the weight. Our purpose is to make them jumpy, think it's a spot inspection. The others will take care of the rest."

____


Tsuminar

Coastal city of Novaya Heian




Syn stalked through the indoor market, gliding between prospective buyers as she searched, yet. Again. For Lace. Heaven and hell, that girl had a knack for wandering off in search of something shiny, lethal, or sexy. Dressed in rugged clothing as though expecting a day of mountain climbing or vigorous hiking, her predator gaze was firmly in place. Causing others to back away from her out of instinct.

At her hip was a disgustingly good replica of a Mk 43 Thompson and Kish Defender. A medium caliber weapon that she'd grown to hate, after the blasted thing had been continually fired at her in the real world. But so far, it was the best of the bunch. As far as she and Lace could tell, the guns (and to at least some extent, the equipment) in the game that had a physical-world counterpart behaved just like the physical-world version. So the Defender was a solid "meh" on the scale of usefulness. Prone to jamming, accuracy slightly better than the forty-two's, and that was about it. But she'd deemed it better than the crossbow.

She sighed, still a fish out of water in this game. The HUD's she gotten down to a fairly similiar view as one she'd experienced from the physical world. But otherwise-- not so much. She gave a glower to a woman approaching her, muttering how "beautiful she was and if she'd possibly consider some make-up to soften her harsh lines."

She sliced a gaze around the market once more, keen eyes peering through stalls and up at the raised second floor, a few patrons leaning over the guardrails and looking down at her and the others on the first floor. "God." She muttered. "I hate this game."

____


Cher Plek

Stamarian Compound



There was a bang on the side of Terrel's truck. The grizzled soldier from before was sitting on the tail end of the truck, legs dangling as the vehicle's engine finally coughed and died. He glanced back to Terrel and the sacks of potatoes. "You headed back to Zailleon?" He questioned politely, sliding down off the truck bed and to the concrete below. From within the truck, all that could be seen was a narrow view of a large military motorpool, the sounds of engines and the smell of oil and grease pervading the air.

Edited by Ajax on May 5, 2015 at 5:52:15

"Got it. Relayia, you know what to do," Rua ordered his dragonet, snapping his fingers at the piled wood they had already gathered. The creature obediently glided to the ground in front of it, chirped, and sucked in air before blowing out a surprisingly strong gout of flame. The wood quickly ignited.

"So what can we expect when we get to the temple, anyway?" Rua asked as Relayia leaped up from the ground to perch on his shoulder. "I'd rather not run in there blind, if I can help it."

Atalanta could only sigh at the chain of events and she slapped her weapon against her thigh again, letting it attach before approaching the terminal in the center of the room. She took a deep breath as she stopped in front of it, all the while mentally composing what she should say.

AIs, in her experience, could be tricky, and irritating. Oftentimes you had to be annoyingly specific if you wanted to get anywhere with them. "What is the purpose of IORA, and what is the purpose of this facility?" she asked of IORA.