Spire's Spite

Fritz and his crew hurried up the stairs eager for their next Attributes. They entered the green marble of the well room, this one looking remarkably similar to the landing floor’s forest of green-and-blue marbled pillars. Though these green stone columns were thin, more like spiderwebs than trees and the blue within them glowed with a soft light that pulsed in a slow rhythm almost like a heartbeat.

Obviously, they ignored the fantastic nature of the room and searched for the Well. Spotting the large pool of radiant blue-green liquid they ran to its lip and gulped down the cool water and its enticing promise.

The power flowed through Fritz, circling in his centre and being changed into his very own light. The painful tingling in his numb hand twinged for a moment then lessened, returning to its dull throbbing. He suspected it hurt less now but wasn’t sure, maybe he was just getting used to it.

Fritz prepared to drop into his Sanctum, bracing himself for the pain in his arm to intensify again. He sat, took a couple of steadying breaths and plunged down into the cool light.

The pain in his ruined hand reignited, roaring into new agony as the pins and needles became molten while still stabbing all along his arm’s flesh. Tears welled up, but he was able to control his reaction somewhat and he didn’t scream. The rain battered his willow and the wind screamed for him.

Dreading to see but needing to know, he looked down at his burnt appendage expecting to still see the withered black branch in place of his arm. What he saw instead didn’t exactly surprise him but it was a welcome, if gruesome, sight. The skin of his arm and some inches beneath were still black like burnt meat, but the cracks between were now filled with a decidedly red flesh that oozed thick dark blood. He could also see raw muscle now and he could painfully move his fingers independently of each other.

It looks bad. But far more whole than what it was, better blood than ash, he reasoned as his breath hissed through clenched teeth. Seems the Spire’s Power helps heal Sanctum wounds as well.

When he was done testing and inspecting his scorched flesh he approached then lay a hand on the grey bark of his willow contemplating what to do with his;

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Attributes Gained

+3 Unaligned

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What do I want? He asked himself. What I want is to be out of my Sanctum and away from the feeling of the charred flesh of my arm.

Don’t choose hastily, he told himself as he began to sweat from the pain.

When in doubt, Awareness. Or should it be Endurance again? He began to pant.

Spread out the points? Never.

He aligned all three of his Attributes to Awareness. His willow grew taller and its branches stretched further out as if they were hands reaching out to caress and consider all it could touch.

He left his Sanctum as quick as he could, pulled up into the rain clouds and finding himself sitting by the radiant pool in a cold sweat. His arm was still numb, it still ached but he could now move it easier or would have been able to if it wasn’t still in a sling.

Fritz debated on what to do, did he feel his hand was up to the task of climbing a steep wall? Maybe. Wielding a weapon? Absolutely not. He sighed in resignation, deciding to keep the sling on for one more floor, just to be safe.

Done with his deciding he looked to his companions, finding them before the next set of Doors ready to get a move on and anxious to ascend.

He stood and strode to them, barely wincing and catching their conversation now that he was paying attention.

“It was boring but at least it was easy,” Bert proclaimed.

“That’s a good thing,” Sid replied.

“Maybe for you Scholar-Sid. But I crave adventure, not strolling around dull and barely trapped hallways,”

“I’ll have you know they were very trapped hallways, Bert,” Fritz commented cordially. “And each of those glyphs would have burnt you to a crisp.” He added rubbing at the scales over his sling.

“Unlikely, I have Tough Skin,” Bert responded dismissively.

“Somehow, I don’t think lightning cares about tough skin the same way blades or acid do,” Fritz riposted.

“Fritz is right,” Sid stated.

“Ahhh, music to my ears,” Fritz said pretending to shiver in ecstasy.

Sid scowled at him then continued, “Despite how he is. Fritz did actually save us a lot of trouble. His Trap Sense alone has probably saved our lives more than once, not to mention his Door Sense.”

“Wow, that was almost a compliment Sid,” Fritz ribbed. “Maybe I’m still dreaming.”

“You are dreaming. That was just an observation,” Sid stated trying to be serious, but a smile was starting to creep up one side of her lips.

“Ah, putting my Technique book to good use are we,” Fritz said possessively.

She did smile at these words, saying, “Oldest law.”

Fritz attempted to look affronted but her smile stopped him dead. He smiled back, and asked, “When can I expect my book back?”

“I dunno, once I got it memorised?” She hedged.

“Why do you want to memorise such a dry text?” Fritz said intrigued, he knew why he wanted it as he suspected it still had several secrets stored in its stilted script. But didn’t know why Sid could possibly want to memorise it.

“I want to be able to teach it,” She admitted.

“To who?” Bert blurted.

“To whom,” Fritz corrected.

Bert frowned but Sid continued, “To whoever I want.”

“To whomever you want,” Bert said copying Fritz’s slightly aristocratic accent.

It was Fritz’s turn to frown, and he did so, with gusto.

“I want to be able to help the other orphans and gutter rats that need it. Get them prepared for when and if the same thing that happened to us happens to them,” Sid explained ignoring their bickering. “Give ‘em more of a chance to, you know, survive,” She ended morosely.

“Another righteous goal,” Bert intoned solemnly. “Fritz, have we accidentally fallen in with a hero?” He asked offhandedly.

“I believe so my pack-brother,” Fritz said stoically. “Shall we do our best to aid her in her quests?”

“Anything for a pack-sister,” Bert proclaimed. “I shall be her Brute boon companion.”

“If you’re the boon companion and Sid is the hero then what does that make me,” Fritz asked.

“The princess,” Sid and Bert said together, almost as if they had planned it.

“Locked away in a tower, pledged to marry a callous cad,” Bert said expanding the tale.

Fritz scowled, “I’m not the Princess maybe I’m the squire or loyal hound or... something else,”

“No, no. Definitely the Princess,” Bert re-stated.

“You are the only one that’s noble born, Fritz,” Sid added, taking Bert’s side her smirk joining his grin.

“Sid the hero will climb the tower, fight off your fiance and kill your cruel father. Then sweep you away to a life of adventure, like you always dreamed,” Bert espoused.

Fritz put on a scowl and Sid said, “I don’t think I’d kill the King. Also I’m not too keen on taking a spoiled princess away with me.”

“No, that’s how it has to be. The hero has to kill the Princess’s father, that's how all the tales go,” Bert said emphatically.

“I’m not spoiled, I’m just as tough as the both of you,” Fritz argued taking small issue with his portrayal in this impromptu story.

They both gave him a pitying look and Fritz haughtily harrumphed, turning his face away dramatically and striding towards the Doors. He didn’t actually consider himself particularly rough or resilient, so their playful derision didn’t bother him at all, but he thought he’d show them how a real noble would act.

They laughed at his display, and he smiled inwardly. It was a much better mood than the last floor and he embraced the absurdity, letting out a displeased exhalation, “Hmph, peasants!”

Leaving the giggling idiots behind Fritz approached the three Doors to the ninth floor, both giddy with excitement and dreading the new horrors he might discover.

The Door on the left was a circle of tangled, pale roots that enclosed a sideways pool of muddy water. The surface of swampy liquid didn’t leak from the entrance but bubbled occasionally, it was like there was a flexible pane of glass between him and the water. Already disgusted by the floor beyond but intent on being thorough with his scouting; he listened to what his door sense was telling him; Large lizards, poisonous flowers and fist-sized buzzing… mosquitoes. Nope. He decided immediately.

Fritz scowled at the Door and turned back to his fellows, motioning at it and saying, “Swamp door. Mosquitoes this big.” He clenched his good hand into a fist and gestured to it with a sideways nod.

Both Sid and Bert’s smiles slipped and they shook their heads vigorously. “Nope,” they said in unison. He was glad they agreed with him.

Crossing to the next Door Fritz looked it over. Another circular hole, this time of a terracotta-coloured stone, rough and unshaped. The draft from the dark natural tunnel was neither cool nor warm but held a scent that once endured could not be forgotten. Goblins. He reached out with his Door Sense confirming his guess and providing even more knowledge of his foes. These goblins were not innumerable but there were a lot, there also seemed to be more of the more powerful warrior goblins and even a handful of shamans. He got the impression of a camp or some kind of ramshackle fort within the caves.

Fritz wondered at why he was getting so much more information from this Door. Was it because he had fought goblins before in this Spire? Was it his new Awareness of fifteen? Was it perhaps his experience with other of faerie-kind? He couldn’t say but wondering about it wasn’t getting him anywhere useful, he decided to just be thankful he got so much to work with.

Turning to the last Door, one made of a flowing, mirror-sheen silver and gazing upon its splendour, Fritz searched it for anything of use. Air flowed out of the arch cool and clear, it smelled of clean steel and carried strange notes of distant music. The stairs beyond the opening where of smooth and polished grey stone. Fritz felt with his senses, probing for danger and got the impression of a sprawling estate with quick puddles of shimmering, metallic liquid that slithered over and between the seams of the smooth brick of its stone floor. He didn’t know exactly what was dangerous about these ‘quicksilver slimes’ but the impressions he gathered left him certain that they were.

Fritz stepped back and summarised to his crew, “A goblin fort, more warriors and shamans, probably better organised hence the whole fort thing. Or some sort of mansion with strange metallic slimes patrolling it, oh and there’s faint music.”

“Hmm, a difficult choice between two Doors,” Bert said as they all pointedly ignored the swamp Door even as it let out a loud gurgle.

“Indeed,” Fritz agreed.

“The monsters we know or the ones we don’t,” Sid stated.

“When you put it like that there’s not much of a choice. We have no idea what the slimes will do or what can hurt them. Might as well get some revenge on goblins,” Fritz said.

Sid nodded and Bert shrugged then added, “As long as I get to punch things.”

“Plenty to punch, my good man, plenty to punch,” Fritz said easily.

“We ready then?” Sid asked.

“Yep,” Fritz and Bert chorused.

With Fritz leading the way they ascended the middle tunnel and into the dark.

Fritz suspected that in the low light his Perception would help him see better, it wasn’t the case for these lightless caves though. Far too dark to see anything, when am I going to get Night Vision or something? He stopped in his tracks and felt Sid and Bert bump into him from behind as he pulled out his glowstone.

He turned to frown at and admonish them when he heard a shout from ahead. He whirled back to face the sound, spotting a group of six grey-skinned goblins gesturing at him with crude short swords of jagged clear crystal. They wore stitched-together armour of some kind of grey hide or leather and held domed shields of a pitted wood-like substance that reminded him of the cap of a mushroom. They seemed to have been marching in a formation that broke immediately as the goblins saw, then charged, at Fritz. The monsters were only twenty feet away so he knew they would be upon his crew in moments.

The tunnel was large enough that they could stand ten people across, but having only three they had to be wary of being surrounded by the rapidly rushing goblins. Bert ran out from behind Fritz and sprayed out his acid, Sid was already nocking an arrow and preparing to loose it into the closest goblin. The two creatures hit by Bert’s jet of caustic liquid let out high-pitched wails of agony and dropped what they were holding. The acid splattered unfortunates wiped at their blistering flesh and peeled away their melting skin.

It was a terrible sight.

Pulling his eyes away from the horror of Caustic Spray, Fritz did what he could. He threw his glowstone straight into a goblin's face, it cracked against its skull and broke its prominent nose causing it to squeal in pain and rage. He drew his dagger from his belt when an arrow soared past him and drilled through a goblin’s shield, then its torso and hitting another of the grey-skinned monsters behind it.

He called upon his Stone pit, stretching it to be as narrow and as deep as possible, and shifted the ground beneath an advancing foe. The goblin stepped into the hole and tripped, nearly impaling itself in its own crystal blade. Another warrior stepped over its fallen brethren and closed the distance quickly. Fritz stepped into its charge, easily slipping past its crude stab and trusting forward with his dagger. The curved bone met the creature's shield with a jarring clack and the monster giggled in delight as it slashed towards Fritz’s neck with its sharp crystal.

He pulled back on his dagger and kicked the shield hard, driving the goblin back and forcing its strike to miss his throat, instead, it glanced harmlessly off his scaled shirt. The creature stabbed forward again, but this time Fritz wreathed his bone blade in Gloom Strike’s shadowy power and dodged to the side letting the goblins sword stab empty air. He stepped into the creature's reach and thrust forward his dagger's point. He drove the black-roiled blade deep under its exposed ribs and must have hit something vital as the goblin twitched and jerked and slumped lifelessly over his arm as dark green blood ran down from its side.

He threw the dead weight off him and planted a foot onto the back of the still-fallen goblin he had tripped. Deftly Fritz ducked down and ran his dagger’s sharp edge across its neck. It gurgled and spat, it didn’t die as quick as the other goblin but it still died quickly.

Quiet fell and Fritz searched his surroundings, finding that Bert had easily caved in the heads of the two goblins he had been fighting and Sid’s one arrow had dispatched the other two. She was standing there, bow in hand and seemingly alert for reinforcements. None came. Minutes passed and they heard nothing, then they relaxed and in Fritz's case reflected on the skirmish.

It had been...easy. The goblins barely stood a chance, it was nothing like the second floor. These were warriors and much better equipped than last time. But they had seemed... slower, weaker and not nearly as threatening as before. The only thing about the goblins that still scared Fritz was the stench and stain of their reeking blood.

“That’s it? That wasn’t even a fight,” Bert said, echoing Fritz’s own thoughts.

“We are Pathers now,” Sid reminded them. “Bound to be much stronger than before.”

“I didn’t expect the difference to be so... stark,” Fritz said. “I even had one hand tied.”

Sid shrugged, “Not to be a drowner, but there are probably hundreds of these things, that’ll be the real challenge.”

Bert lit up at the comment, grinning wide and blurting out, “We better go find them then.”

Fritz smiled at his infectious enthusiasm and retrieved his amber glowstone, noticing its light had dulled somewhat.

“Does this look less bright to you?” Fritz said, presenting the stone in all its swirling luminescence.

Sid frowned and pulled her own amber stone free, comparing them. They both seemed to cast the same amount of light, which Fritz felt was softer than before but couldn’t be certain.

“Maybe?” Sid hedged.

“Maybe the magic’s running out?” Bert suggested, unusually usefully.

Fritz went to slap his forehead but instead hit himself with the stone still in his hand, exclaiming, “Of course! Ouch!”

Sid giggled then snorted out a laugh.

“It’s not funny, I almost brained myself with this slowly dwindling stone,” Fritz said but was not at all hurt by his blunder.

“You could’ve been in real danger if you had any brains left,” Bert guffawed.

Fritz grumbled but gave them a reassuring smile that he hoped conveyed that he was alright.

“Well, I better scout ahead,” Fritz said after the laughter had subsided.

“Should we follow or stay?” Sid asked, smiling at him in a way that warmed him like the sun’s rays.

“Stay,” Fritz said, unslinging his pack and weighing whether he should take his fish blade along.

He decided to leave it for now, with only one good hand it would just get in the way. He waved a farewell to his crew and stalked into the darkness.

He travelled down the winding tunnels, letting his Door Sense guide him wherever he had a choice of passages. His Ability always seemed to lead him to the left, until he came across a soft blue light emanating from from an opening ahead. He put his own swirling stone away into his pocket and advanced stealthily. He stopped as he heard high-pitched, guttural speech echo towards him from the direction of the light.

Warily he snuck to the wall and followed along it, keeping out of sight until he could peer into the room beyond. Crystals, like those the goblins wielded but filled with a blue-white radiance jutted from the cave walls and ceiling. The pale light sparkled off the armour of the biggest goblin Fritz had ever seen. The near-human-height, overly-muscled, pale-skinned goblin was clad in glittering plates of irregularly faceted blue-tinted crystal.

Some sort of Warlord, Chief or King? It cant be a King as it has no crown, lets go with Chief, Fritz decided.

Around the Chief a horde of ragged goblins busied themselves with wheelbarrows full of crystal and picks with heads of stone and handles that strange porous wood. It was some sort of mining operation Fritz realised as the skinniest, weakest goblins scurried about under the watchful, cruel gazes of the larger warriors who numbered in the dozens.

With a thwack a whipcord-muscled warrior goblin wearing a full set of polished, porous wooden armour held together with leather straps, hit one of the ragged goblins with a baton of shining crystal. There was a strange thumping echo as the baton connected to the miner’s bony spine and the creature growled in pain as it fell to the ground and twitched helplessly. The baton wielder giggled as did the others who shared its equipment and size.

These seemed to Fritz to be some sort of slave drivers or captains and the sight of their bland, almost off-handed maliciousness made rage boil in Fritz’s gut. Even if they were horrible, stinking goblins that would slit his own throat without thinking thrice, he had a certain hatred of the strong who tormented the weak.

He looked around for any shamans but couldn’t see any covered in their strange, dangling charms or fetishes.

The goblin in crystal bellowed an order causing all the grey-skinned monsters to stiffen then move quicker and finish whatever tasks they had yet to complete. It seemed they were getting ready to move out and Fritz got ready to follow.

The Chief finally turned its face in Fritz’s direction, displaying a triangular scar that enclosed one of its pitch-black eyes. The pinpricks of blue-green light that may have served as pupils, were far larger in this creature's stern gaze and more akin to candle flames than twinkling stars. It scanned the room slowly, observing the scurrying of its retinue, its eyes glided by where Fritz hid then snapped back as if it saw something out of place.

Fritz’s heart jumped in his chest and he wanted to flee, but he held himself still. Slinking back slightly and pushing himself as close to the wall as he could, he waited and watched as the goblin stared intensely. Oh, gods I hope it didn’t see me. I really need a stealth Ability. Why didn’t I pick Subtle Presence? Damn my foolish pride, he admonished himself silently; waiting, praying for the Chief to look away.

The goblin growled out a single syllable. One he somehow knew meant slave. Then it spoke again this time with a ripple of Power echoing its deep tone. Stay. A golden ring adorned with dark purple gems on a long, pale finger that resembled bleached bone, emitted a subtle grey glow.

Fritz knew he was caught, but couldn’t run as he felt the words wash over him, freezing his legs and stiffening his joints. His chest seemed to seize and he clenched his fists tight. He could still move even if his body fought him the whole way and his mind wanted to obey the voice. Struggling against the compulsion, he ever so slowly reached and took hold of the hilt of his bone dagger looped on his belt with his shaking hand and trembling fingers. Dread poured through him as he realised that there would be no escape and no heroic last stand.

The best he could do was take a few with him before he perished and the worst he could do was die.