Asheron's Fall: The Power of Ten, Book Six

The tumeroks were indeed far more organized than anything other than the undead that we’d run into, although we hadn’t seen any evidence of the lugians’ settlements at this time.

There was another one of those long Ward-bridges built across the river, square obelisks capped with flat platforms as if they’d once supported a road, although there was no evidence of such a path on either side of the river. Nonetheless, it led right through the recovered forest towards the former human town built a mile or so away from the shore, the area occupied by tumerok tents and the scattered human buildings about now, clearly set up to fish the river.

I flitted past as Kris did her thing along the other side of the river, looking for new things and points of interest. I had noted another of those weird heads sitting out in the middle of the river upstream, fallen on its side, and again wondered who it was and what it was meant to be used for.

With enough altitude, I could also see the very faint sparks and magical Warding of the fallen obelisks that did indeed circle the town. There was a slight but perceptible magical Warding still emanating from them, a mental push attuned to certain things to keep them away. Even shattered, they had a residual effect on the area.

Near the start of human buildings and inland, closer to the road, there was a blasted area with the scarring of dimensional ruptures near a broken and fallen bronze pole, the statue of a man that had been atop it melted and fused, pockmarked and warped by the blasts that had torn apart the pole. No idea what it had been used for.

The updated wall the tumeroks had surrounding the former human town was built of the swamp trees atop the existing stone foundation, the trunks obviously cut down further north and then floated downstream. Everything was lashed together with rawhide strips cut from shreth-hide, with carefully pointed top and spikes thrusting out from the bases to keep attackers at bay. There were even some attempts made at carving them and introducing a uniform appearance, as if the Hea could not bear to be shown up by the neat woodwork and stones of the lower walls and arched torii that opened in them.

There had also been a lot of magic used on the wood to re-root them to some degree, tapping into the ley lines under the village and especially giving the wall the resistance of living wood against rot and aging, as well as resistance to magic. From a point of magical perception, the wall looked almost like a living barrier of spiked trees, rather than a wooden fort. Some of the trunks were even exuding carefully trimmed living branches and bearing leaves in the winter here, starting to grow into one another and really form a living wall.

But I was tapping into the constrained and subsumed natural magic through Bard Levels, and I could feel the essence of the plants protesting against the treatment, although it was muted and cool. It was about as friendly as arcane magic could be, maybe done with the help of some spirits, but they still didn’t like it.

The Hea had no protection against flyers or levitators, however. I just flew over in the dark and surveyed the town, scanning it for numbers, magic, and precious materials as I did so.

Unlike the mosswarts or the burun, the tumeroks looked to have acknowledged the value of the Air Gold coins left behind, and seemed to have cleaned everything up and deposited them into a central building, boxing them up in the corner of a storeroom and promptly forgetting about them as a means of trade. Precious stones seemed to be more acceptable, as they were spread among many dwellings, and often set as embellishments on their Weapons, Armor, or jewelry, although none of that stuff had more than passive Enhancements on them.

The town was dominated by the large, multi-story pagoda near the center that was now housing the effective chief of the place, with watchposts on the higher floors looking over the countryside, manned by older warriors standing guard as the younger ones rested with their families. The fires atop it were what I’d seen from the river.

Careful Assays indicated that many of the older and more powerful warriors had permanent injuries to their limbs, particularly their hands and arms, as well as massive scarring.

There was another Deathstone pit in the middle of the town, surrounded by a fairly ornate wooden barrier carved with totems and spirits and empowered with some magic to Ward away restless spirits, as was only logical. It was larger than the other one north of town by some degree, scores of the mixed slain melded and pushed together in surprise and pain.

The magical fountain nearby looked to have been painstakingly maintained, the stones about it indicating most of the village probably drew water from it.

I set the bone pit on vivus, since they couldn’t see it and wouldn’t find out anything until someone peeped into what was effectively out of sight and out of mind.

The bronze Pedestal with the guardian town Statue looked to have once been a drudge, much like Holtburg where I’d come in. I could only imagine the disdain the tumeroks would have had for such a thing protecting them, and it had been long and laboriously transformed into something that looked much more like a tumerok, although they’d left the feet and something of the chest alone, which was how I recognized it.

The Grecian-hall design building that seemed to exist in every major town was also here, toppled into the pit of its own dimensional storage area, although the Hea, unlike the others, seemed determined to make use of the place, rather than have it sit there as a gaping hole in their defenses. They’d moved much of the broken rock of the building above out of the place, excavated the fallen dirt, shored up the walls, and actually built a roof over the place and stairs leading down to it after cleaning it all up.

The stonework was not of their design, nor the reinforcements to it, although it was a very tumerok-style building built atop it, a shamanic hut design where many of the older warriors appeared to live. The area looked to be used for storage for the whole camp, or an indoor assembly area, possibly its original purpose.

There were at least four hundred Hea attached to this place, including the women and children, of which there were a surprising number of the latter. I gathered there had been both a major hit to their fighting strength, given the maiming of their elder warriors, and a lack of the armed conflict which might have sapped at them, giving them time to raise families and train the next generation.

There were a lot of spellcasters. The tumeroks seemed to have a strong Casting tradition, and with the elders unable to fight or hunt effectively, many of them had turned much more strongly to magic to fight and work with. There were a lot of defenses here powered by magic, but they were things that required constant updating and investment, as opposed to just tapping the ley lines like things had before. The scars of the Fall still dotted the town where Artifice had ruptured, exploded, and the remains of said devices looked to have been melted down and repurposed.

There was also a family of lugians right in the town, currently asleep, but they were manning the forgeworks and smithy.

They definitely had a stock of the Null Aluminum stuff. Amusingly, I couldn’t TK the stuff at all, as the magic wouldn’t grip it, so I actually had to reach in, grab a piece of scrap, and make off with it physically.

Invisibility wouldn’t cover it, either, but I wasn’t too worried about a piece of scrap metal being seen flying through the air in the middle of the night.

The great stone pillar in the center of the town had been toppled and blasted, probably by the explosion of the Death Stone nearby, and now looked to be used as nothing more than a drying area for washed clothes and stuff, the carved name of Soushi upon it blasted and further obscured by the elements and time.

They had their fetishes, but I hadn’t seen any skulls or similar things, and indeed, they seemed to have kept much of the local natural feel and harmonization with nature of the area, although they didn’t trim the vegetation much and probably had a rat problem because of it... said rats smoked and dangling over several slumbering cookfires in the night, so probably not unintentional.

There were three areas of exploded Artifice still creating pits, and one dimensional rupture standing alone, but otherwise the area was remarkably free of combat damage.

The feeling I got from everything was safety and contentment. The tumeroks liked it here, and felt safe. It was not excessively militarized, and the number of kids around indicated they considered it safe enough to raise families without much problem, protected by the number of scarred veterans and the eager new upcoming hunters ready to take over for their forebears.

And when that happened... well, militaries needed things to fight, and eager young warriors were ambitious. Where would that lead? I knew right what would happen if they were humans, and while their culture might be different, the drives seemed to be close to the same.

Perhaps... by design?

I considered that as I headed back towards where the Wagon was waiting, my survey complete. Kris pinged me that she had something interesting to show me, and I altered course to go see.

------

“This is a mutated creature.”

It was a Summons, bound to an area, a hilltop of sand that had been thrust out of the ground by the Land’s revulsion for the energies that had been going through it, and which still existed within it as an unclean residue. I stared at it fixedly as the ectoplasm it was made of started to discorporate, unwinding from the form of meat and bones and returning to the astral it came from, ready to be born again.

“What kind of energies?” Kris asked smartly, focusing on the key point, and not the unclean part of it, which she was totally used to.

“Aberrant. No, not any we’ve seen yet,” I added, before she could ask.

“Are you serious?” she smirked in mock disbelief, raising her hand and spreading her fingers. “Virindi. Whatever that thing is that sent your predecessor Summoned for Moah Powah Pheer Me, supposedly sourced from the beings here. Something with the Deathstones. Whatever is going on with those aquatic things of the deep. And now you’re saying we have a FIFTH Aberrant influence at work here? And that’s ignoring those Shades and how THEY got their power?” She waggled all five fingers.

“I’m non-confident of the source of power of the mosswarts or the burun, either... or the source of inspiration for what looks like an entire society of necropolitans made from our blue-skinned ancient inspirations for Moah Powah.”

She actually blinked and sat back at that, doing the political juggling act in her head. “The mosswarts and burun are venerating them as gods. That’s not unusual for Aberrants, I’m sure, but if there’s no true gods, only creatures of power...”

“No wonder this place is so screwball,” I had to agree. There was a fwawoosh, and energies gathered, collided, and formed into two more miniature, spider-like beings, with spindly legs, four clawed arms, and mandibles, carapaces tougher than any hide had a right to be... and naturally, being Summons, they went right for us with their beady red eyes.

I didn’t move as Kris split one’s skull and impaled the other in mid-hop, all before they could reach me.

This time, Quaver was Burning with vivus, which spread rapidly from ectoplasmic blood into the sands of the mound.

“These aren’t born creatures, Kris,” I told her, watching them Burn with great haste, a combination of Aberrant energies and being ectoplasm the equivalent of oil-soaked wood to the Fires of Life. “They are copies of children subjected to those energies and made into these... mukkir.”

“Do we know the children of what?” she asked reasonably, revulsion still filtering its way into her voice. “Tumeroks?” she reasoned.

“No, I don’t think so. You saw the posts nearby, signing that this place is unclean. Not a single animal track on this mound.” Said mound expanding the circle of vivus eating away at it with commendable speed. We watched the vivus being drawn up the mound towards a collapsed hole at the center, while the heavy white mist spilling from it cascaded the flames down the sides quickly.

Kris glanced around, made sure the mound couldn’t be seen from the distance, and said, “Okay, the fishermen will be getting up soon. We should move along soon, before something is discovered.”