Spire's Spite

Fritz immediately breathed a deep lungful of crisp, cool and wonderfully fresh air, something that was denied him in the smokiness of the cave they had taken shelter in. He listened to the quiet of the forest, paying close attention for the crunching sound of snow under boots or padded paws. He could pick up nothing save their own soft footsteps. Even the wind was subdued, now a gentle sigh as if the sky had spent all its rage on the howling storm and now lay sleeping, dormant once more.

It was still cold but the sun’s rays warmed them in both body and mind. Fritz looked enviously at Sid’s scarf wishing he had one of his own. Maybe in purple, or green like my eyes, he considered.

He didn’t need to search at all to see where they had to go to ascend to the next floor. There was a pillar of snow that reached as high as a Spire and stood bright and pure in the sun’s rays. It rose from the top of the hill Fritz had climbed, a much higher point than he had actually dared to walk. Gauging the distance and the incline, he estimated it would take an hour or two of hiking to get there.

“Think that’s it?” Bert said pointing at the icy tower and shuffling on his bare feet.

“Probably,” Fritz responded, then used his Door Sense to feel out the direction of the stairway, just in case. Predictably he felt the tingling and instinctual sense that the Stairway was indeed close to or even was the pillar of snow.

“Feel’s like it,” Fritz amended.

“Let’s get to it,” Sid stated.

Fritz and Bert nodded and they set off through the forest. Occasionally great clumps of snow would fall from the canopy or drops of icy slush would drip down on them, making them jump, shudder or curse when the freezing water hit them. It was miserable and cold, but compared to the oppressive torture of the cave the climate was nothing more than an inconvenience and their spirits remained high. Sid dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding some falling slush, her small display of prowess encouraged something of a game; Dodge the Snow. Bert and Fritz joined in the contest eagerly.

Bert used a combination of his Arte Pugilist Technique and Agility, using quick footwork, sidesteps and rolls to slip under the slush just before it made contact with his skin. While Sid seemed to be using her Reflex, Grace and Agility to dodge by a hair’s breadth and when that occasionally didn’t work she incorporated her Wind Step to blur out of the snow’s path. Fritz just employed his usual strategy of watching and weaving. He would predict the cascading cold by its signature sound and would move with precision out of its path before it could shower him with ice.

They all had some degree of success but Sid seemed to be the best at it, which was to be expected, all her Advanced Attributes made her as slippery as an eel. Grace refined her movements, balance and precision, Reflex allowed her to react quicker to danger and Agility mixed in to enhance all her dexterous, agile qualities beyond human limits.

Fritz suspected that Attributes both normal and Advanced worked best when they complemented each other. He had been seeing it more and more as he got used to his new Attributes and Powers, noticing their more subtle interactions. His Perception and Awareness were foremost among these ‘synergies’, almost blending together at the edges of their respective demesnes.

Perception would help him see or hear something and Awareness would help to qualify what he was perceiving with ephemeral impressions and images. It also seemed to work the other way, with Awareness pointing out unusual or normally unnoticeable patterns or guiding him with strange urges or tingles that alerted him to something he couldn't see or hear. Which in turn allowed him to search and find whatever he was missing.

Focus and Memory had something to do with it as well. Focus let him narrow or filter the input from his senses along with Memory which helped him retain a more precise spatial sense, as he could remember the area around him with more detail. Control however, apart from its uses with his Abilities seemed to also help with the organisation and ‘control’ of his mind and emotion, he’d definitely felt that he could suppress his fear, pain and sadness far easier than before. But maybe that was just the gruelling trials of the Spire hardening his heart and dulling his spirit.

I don’t want to be whittled away.

The thought jarred him and he almost let a rush of falling slush splatter over him as it sloshed to the snowy ground. Fritz cursed only to see Bert dashing ahead striking the trees in Sid’s path. It seemed that he was trying to cause as much snow to fall on Sid as he could, thereby winning the dodging game. His gambit was failing. Sid near danced through the trees and cascading snow then ran ahead of Bert. She retaliated in kind, kicking a tree with her long legs and dumping a load of slush straight into his path and onto his head.

Bert spluttered and cursed her but Fritz thought he deserved the dousing, turnabout is fair play. Their game continued for some more minutes until it became clear that Bert could never outrun Sid, nor dodge nearly as well. Mostly because of her Fleet Passive, which Fritz reminded Bert of much to his annoyance as he had forgotten about that little fact. With a declaration of defeat from Fritz and an accusation of cheating from Bert, the game was won and done.

Sid was strutting ahead with the self-satisfied smile of victory on her face, Bert followed behind glowering as Fritz walked beside him absently admiring the scenery. They made their way closer to the Stairway, noticing no monsters nor animals on the way. The uninhabited stillness was troubling him, but as they had nowhere but up to go they kept on walking.

The quietness intensified and even Bert began to notice the change in atmosphere as he looked around and whispered, “Awfully quiet, think it’s trouble?”

“In a Spire, it’s always trouble,” Fritz said softly. “Come back, let the scout, scout.”

Sid grunted in agreement, pulling back from where she had been walking ahead of them, and joining Bert by a small rock formation. Fritz skulked up ahead of them toward the tower that was now only about a five-minute walk away from them. The enormous, snowy spire was in the centre of a clearing, bare of trees much like the first floor, and covered in a blanket of pristine white. The Stairway was right there; it was an arch of green marble, pressed into the bright white of the snow and opening onto a familiar and welcome staircase of that self-same green.

His awareness twinged, there was something not quite right here, he searched the snow, looking for anything out of place. It was faint but he thought he could see a spot in the snow, right by the entrance to the stairway, that was moving slightly wrong in the slight breeze caressing the hilltop. The glistening white of the snow pile was the same as the rest of the snow but as the light winds buffeted the strange spot he could see a waving like that of fur. It also seemed to be rising and falling, almost imperceptibly. Well, it would have been imperceptible if not for my Attributes.

He scanned for more piles of ‘breathing’ snow but saw no other obvious dangers lying in wait. He turned back to his crew, as they stood still suppressing their keen desire to sprint straight at the Stairway climb up and out of the cold. Fritz sympathised, feeling that same urge himself, he wanted to throw caution to the wind and race into and up the stairs but he knew it was an unnecessary and potentially deadly risk.

“One monster, hidden in the snow and right by the Stairway,” Fritz relayed to his antsy fellows, pointing to where he knew the creature to be.

“Plan?” Sid asked.

“Hit it with an arrow, bait it over here, blind it with shadow and acid, run into the Stairway. No need to fight whatever it is,” Fritz outlined, to the eager nods of both of his crew.

Sid nocked a translucent arrow and wreathed it in twisting wind that spun up the powdery snow around her. She loosed, the arrow soared and struck where Fritz had indicated the monster lay. The wind arrow plunged into the white fur, its glassy tip buried past think hide and into tough muscle. Streaming red blood began to trickle down the arrow's shaft and the white beast burst out of its crouch and roared.

With a better view of the monster he could see it had remarkably human-looking hands with long black talons. It had two large, dark and curling horns on either side of its head and hole-like nostrils in its pale, flat face along with pitch-black eyes that gave its visage the impression of a flesh-less skull. Its powerful howl ceased as it closed its massive jaws and Fritz could see two huge black tusks protruding upwards from its fanged under-bite. It stood to its full height on two legs and reached at least nine feet tall.

Hunching over again, it rushed at them on its hands and feet, bowling its way through the deep snow between them. Sid had enough time during its loping charge to plant an arrow in its shoulder causing the beast to grunt in pain and continue its rush as Bert ran up to flank it.

As the slowest member of the team, Fritz began sprinting towards the tower of snow as Bert cast his Corrosive Spray, the arc of acid splashed over the creature's skull-like face. It howled in fury, stopping suddenly and wiping its massive hands over its face trying to remove the caustic liquid as it sizzled against its skin. Its monstrous hands and face began blistering and Sid ran past the agonised beast when Bert let off another spray, covering its right shoulder, causing its attention to turn to him, boiling rage in its dark eyes as it charged at him in mad, loping dash.

That proved to be a bad move on the monster's part as Bert let off another jet of misting acid straight into its eyes. It blindly swung its terrible black talons at where Bert had been, but he easily slipped under its clumsy blow and rushed past its body. Fritz cast his Illusory Shadow, stretching the ethereal energy into a black disc for Bert to duck through.

Bert, in all his great wisdom, decided to turn and swing a sweeping kick at the monster with the extra momentum of his spin. His bare and blue-tinged foot rippled with waves of force and slammed into the beast’s backside with a loud thud, knocking the white monster forward and forcing it to fall onto its front with a yelp. Bert turned and ran through the Illusory Shadow with a huge grin on his idiot face. The beast howled in fury then went silent, rubbing at its eyes and listening for their footsteps in the crunching snow.

Fritz had a bad feeling about its reaction and called out a warning just as it dived towards where it could hear Bert’s retreat. “Run! It can hear you, we haven’t hurt it any, it’s just pissed off.”

The white beast charged, it was a maelstrom of reckless swings and hoarse howling, gaining quickly on the still-grinning Bert as it flailed through the illusory shadow without even seeing it.

What a waste of a spell, Fritz lamented as he was still running and looking over his shoulder as the creature rampaged closer and closer to his friend. He could see the wild passion in Bert’s eyes, one that threatened to push him to turn and face the beast again. Fritz knew the thing would tear the maniac to pieces if its monstrous claws got in range, regardless of his Vitality and Imbued Bones.

Fritz did what he could, shaping a hole with Stone Pit, forcing the stubborn dirt beneath the snow to form a slightly deeper hole, then he cast it again in the same place deepening the original again. He watched and worried that the best would just step over his trap but fortunately he had placed the pit perfectly. The monster tripped, its foot sliding into the twice cast hole and falling again onto its face with a yelp.

“Stop staring and get moving,” Sid's voice called down to them. Looking to where he heard her Fritz saw she was already standing by the Stairway panting out steaming breath. He resumed his run even though the spells had taken out a chunk of his stamina. He reached her just after Bert and they followed her up and out of the floor, leaving the howling beast behind to impotently rage at the bottom of the Stairway.

“Huh, they can't come up the stairs?” Bert asked with a hint of disappointment.

“No, but that doesn’t mean they're not still dangerous. You’ve heard the tale of the Climbers who taunted the dragon, right?” Fritz said.

“Mocking Matt and the Scorched Stairway?” Sid provided.

“Yeah, that one. Turns out the story's got some truth to it. A monster’s body can't pass through the Doors but its Abilities or Traits will, such as a Dragon’s Breath. As Matt and his crew learned, lethally,” Fritz explained as they plodded up the green stairs.

“Ouch,” Bert commented.

“Yes, ouch.” Fritz agreed as the stairway opened up into the Well Room.

The room resembled the cave they braved the blizzard in, except it had primitive paintings of figures fighting an assortment of monsters scrawled on the walls and in its centre was a bonfire burning in the same eerie blue-green colour of the Sunken Spire’s pinnacle light. Fritz glanced around at the cave painting and realised the figures in the depictions were them.

“Hey, look, that’s Sid facing down the snail,” Fritz said walking up and gesturing to the small stick figure with yellow hair and white chest. It was loosing arrows at the crude painting of the giant salt-snail, in all its red and quartz glory.

“Great, something new for you to grope,” Bert exclaimed cheerily, to which Sid huffed out a sigh of annoyance.

“I don’t think you can grope a painting,” Fritz reasoned with a slight frown falling across his brow.

“Well, you’d know best,” Bert chortled as he joined Sid by the ghostly bonfire.

It turned out the fire was the source of Power for this Well Room, the licks of flame warming them rather than burning them as they traced their fingers through its odd blue-green light. Fritz pulled the Power into his Sanctum but didn’t immediately drop within his private world to align it. He instead ran his hand through the pleasant warmth of the fire and watched as the tendrils of blue-green wrapped and slithered around his fingers in odd and eldritch ways. It was unsettling to say the least, but Fritz thought he could learn something from its strange contorted movements, especially the way the shadows it cast madly danced on the walls and floor.

He committed it to memory as best he could, willing his Senses, Control, Focus and of course Memory to enhance his capacity to do so. On a fleeting, fey whim he wondered if he could bring the fire into his Sanctum and preserve its image there. My Sanctum is a mental construct after all, would it work and what would happen?

Using all of his Senses, Perception and Awareness he took his time staring deep into its distorted light, mapping its movements and tracing its terrible trembling edges. He held the impression of the twisting, blue-green flames and dove into his Sanctum. The eldritch fire squirmed in his thoughts, but he maintained his mental grip on it with fingers of Control and Focus, bringing the fire with him.

He stood in the rain and heard sizzling. There the eldritch flame was, a flickering ball about the size of his head. It hovered above the palm of his outstretched hand, floating and glaring at him in a way that reminded him of some monster’s malevolent eye. The drizzle hit the ball’s surface steaming away in small puffs of white. Now that he was here, in his Sanctum, he took in his surroundings. The moment he did so, his concentration on the fire wavered, his Control faltered and the flame fell, engulfing his hand.

His arm caught alight in a flash of blue-green and his flesh was scorched, twisting and blackening within moments. In his terror and agony, the wind screamed and he joined it. The rain intensified, coming down in a torrent over him and the slowly creeping eldritch fire. The blue-green flame spat and hissed as it was doused with the falling water. Fritz shook his hand rapidly through the air but the fire clung to him like glue. He spun wildly, searching for anything to put out the terrible fire, to remove the horrible hurt of its searing touch even as it slowly crept up his forearm.

A pond! A puddle! Anything! He begged inwardly. There was a puddle only three feet away and he dived for it plunging his entire arm up to the shoulder into its cool depths. He expected the burning to cease and the flame to be extinguished. But he was wrong. The pond began to bubble and boil and within a few moments steam was pouring forth, filling the air with white clouds that billowed and shifted into nightmarish apparitions that cackled at his agonised cries.

He despaired, and frantically searched for a way out, any escape. But he knew there wasn’t a way out, his Sanctum was him, and the fire would consume everything he was if he didn’t get it under control.

That’s it Control, Focus. Calm down and use your attributes fool. You brought it in here and you had it under your Power as long as were concentrating on keeping it in place.

Fritz concentrated on the creeping flame, pushing the pain of burning aside with a force of will and a flex of Control and Focus. He bent all his attention on the blue-green fire and pushed it back down his arm. It responded, fighting him the whole way but slowly retreating down and onto his palm. Now that he knew he could affect it and the searing had been contained to his palm he focused on the next step.

It resisted, trying to bend out of his grip but he held it tight in his mind’s eye and grasped it. He pried the sticky flame off with his will and forced it back into an orb of blue-green light. He pulled his hand free of the water, holding the ball of eldritch flame in place to boil in the deep puddle for a time, keeping his Focus locked tight on it while he let his mind search for solutions. He ignored his hand, no matter how badly he needed to see the damage, that could come later.

The flame almost left his metal grip again, but he redoubled his efforts to keep it contained, though it did seem the abundance of water in his Sanctum was helping. He shuddered to think what would have happened if there had been no rain or puddles. What else did he have though? The water was just a temporary solution, he needed something more permanent or something that could cast the fire out.

The flame kept struggling, almost breaking free again as he attempted to plan. I need more Control, he thought sourly. If only I had-

He almost slapped himself for his idiocy and reached out to his willow with his thoughts and feeling for the Power he had received but a few minutes before.

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Attributes Gained

+3 Unaligned

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He immediately Aligned his three free Attributes to Control, letting the Power’s cold energy distract him for a moment. The flame began to slip free of his hold. His Sanctum became less blurry and more defined, he felt the branches of his willow stiffen and knew he could bend them and their shadows to sway where he willed. He added his new Control to his effort to contain the flame and found it easier, catching, sculpting and reducing the malevolent orb to the about size of a ripe lime. It was still fighting, still boiling, but he had it secured for the moment, giving him some time and mental capacity to think about what to do with the cruel flame.

Was there anything that could hold the fire? The pavilion? No. The Willow? Double no. Wait, wasn’t there a heater or brazier we would bring out in the colder months? Yes, of course. That big brass thing covered in carvings of Fire Lizards, that’ll do perfectly.

Quickly decided, he moved the orb, pulling it out of its puddle prison and letting it float a foot in front of his furrowed brow. He walked forward with caution, slowly trudging over the muddy ground and to his silver and purple pavilion. It strained his mind as he dragged himself and the fire into the wooden structure, he felt the sodden floorboards creak under his wobbling gait and glanced around for the brazier. It was nowhere to be seen. Frustration boiled in his chest and his head ached awfully from his exertion, no, not just his head, but his arm as well.

Don’t think of your hand idiot, he admonished himself as the pain he had been pushing away reasserted itself. He scrunched his eyes closed, his head throbbed from being pushed and pulled so many ways. There was a soft clank somewhere to his left, somewhere in the shadows. He opened his eyes to see exactly what he was looking for, the brazier lying on its side rocking slightly as if it had just been pushed over.

Using his last shreds of will, Fritz staggered over to the fallen brazier and righted it. The fiery orb deformed, bumps and ridges forming from its searing surface, small tentacles of flame extending and moving with a maleficent will fire shouldn’t possess. Before the ball of eldritch flame could burst he plunged it into the brazier's open bowl, holding it there in the scorched centre and commanding the brass to hold its weird and warping heat.

As Fritz’s will broke so too did the orb break, bursting against the metal. It reared up and roared in terrible triumph, then trembled as its touch couldn’t melt the brazier and its tendrils were trapped within the brass bowl. Its roar diminished into something of a groan of despair.

Fritz collapsed, unable to think or move. He was being shaken, but not here, somewhere else. He felt his consciousness slipping, fluttering away as he gazed into the eerie fire dancing eerily in its brazier.

The flame filled his vision wreathing the whole world in bright blue-green, the pounding of rain filled his ears, a terrible storm filled his mind.

Then he knew nothing more.