Delmechia
You lean into the wall and crouch down. Nothing you can do here except watch.
The beast comes down on the man again and he tries to roll away, but one of the sharp claws catches him and cuts into the skin of his torso. He tries to stand up and stumbles once before another metal leg swings through the leg swings through the rain and strikes him on the neck, decapitating him. His arm falls away from his stomach and a grey bit of gut slips out before the body collapses. His head hits the ground a few yards away and rolls upon the pavement, leavng a snail trail of blood.
The spider just stands there for a second with its blinking red eyes and you wait with held breath. No way it could have detected you, but still. After an eternity, you hear its metal joints creaking and it turns and leaps off down one of the other alleyways. You hear it's eery, creaking steps grow more and more faint and then nothing at all.
You wait another couple of minutes and then come out into the intersection. The dead bodies lay in the rain with long, neat slashes all over them. What the hell was that thing?
You can't even imagine. Some demon born of the modern age.
Over by the corpse that still has a head, you find a gun lying on the pavement. A .45 of course -- Stellwetter's men don't fuck around. You roll back the warm cylinder and see three bullets still in the chamber. You snap it back and put it in one of the pockets of your cloak and then leave the bodies to their determined futures.
There's no chance of finding the shooter at this point, and with that spider thing running around, it would be foolish, anyway; the best you can do is head back to your clan in Veyremendor and hold council with the other lords.
You take a right, going opposite from the spider, and begin to make your way out of this hellhole. After almost a half hour of trying to pass though the city without being seen, you come up to the Sandcross bridge, which crosses the Sandwater river. You lean over the concrete railing, while the cars pass back and forth behind you and ponder for a moment before reaching into a pocket on the pants beneath your cloak and retrieving your phone. It's been a hell of a night.
You hope it has nothing to do with the human woman, but you've began to fear that it may. A flash of her last written words to you runs across your mind like heat lightning before dissolving back to darkness:
It all has to do with you.
You punch in a long series of digits and then wait for a moment while the phone beeps in your ear. After a moment, a voice comes on the other line. Deep and whispery, like your own.
"Yes."
"Murlough," you say. "It seems we have a problem."
"Problem? What kind of a problem?"
You recount to him the nights events, omitting your suspicion that they have anything to do with the woman.
"A machanical spider?!" he says, once you've finished. "Gods be damned! Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?"
You don't answer him.
"Well, you need to come on back right away. I'll let The Boss in on everything that's happened so far and we can decide where to go from there. Just make sure you're careful; you know it was reckless to go to that part of the city in the first place."
"Yeah it was," you say. "I'll see you soon."
"Fine."
You hang up and pass over the bridge, watching the droplets of rain where they strike the running river and create circles that become less defined and vague as they spread larger and interact with the rings caused by the other drops around them; the current of the water bending them all away into the direction of its preset vector.
For the next twenty minutes you walk along the suburbs that mark Veyremendor, with the river on one side and some houses on the other. You keep your hood up, although you don't pass anybody; on this side of the river, there's hardly anyone but gnomes, and they all tend to sleep at a decent hour.
Eventually the houses give way to the Lantern Forst that marks the northeastern edge of Delmechia and at the forest's edge you come to a freshly made clearing. A black metal gate marks the entrance to your ecampment and through the resolute bars you can make out the flaps of grey tents and supple trucks in the light of campfires.
You pound on the metal three times and two hooded guards appear on the other side of fence before they shine a flashlight in your face. After a few seconds it clicks off and the gate doors swing inward. You enter and pull an identification card from one of the many pockets in your cloak to hand to one of the guards.
"Where is Murlough?" you ask as him as he scans over the details writ upon the I.D.
He spends another second reading and then hands you the card.
"He's waiting for you over there, my Lord," he says.
The guard points over to one of the supply trucks where another cloaked figure stands slouched against the bed with his hood turned in your direction.
"Thank-you."
As you walk through the camp, the sound of several dozen whispery rough voices enters your sensitive auditory system. Elementals and lords shooting the shit around the fires.
"Murlough," you say as you approach the cloaked enigma. He gives a subtle nod and then gestures with his arm.
"Come on; let's go to my quarters."
You follow him past the trucks until you come to one of the gray makeshift tents -- this one no different than the rest -- and he ducks under the front flap. You follow him inside and he works with a couple of the lanterns until the place is well-lit and then he throws back his hood. His face is similar to yours: stoic with well-defined features and almost handsome. Instead of having a teal tint to his skin however, his face is a charred crimson. A defining trait of the fire elementals.
"So what are we doing here?" you ask. "Shouldn't we be talking with The Boss and the other Lords?"
He looks at you seriously.
"That's what I thought at first, but..."
He shakes his head at the ground.
"What the hell are you getting at?" you ask.
"The Boss... everyone. They've got a lot of shit on their plate as it is. And you've been acting like an idiot lately."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I'm only saying that it's not going to look good for you if everyone finds out where you were."
You give a small snort.
"Who do you think could be following you?" he asks. "Does it have something to do with the woman?"
"How the hell would I know? You know as much as I do."
"Hmm."
"Look," you say. "this is important shit. Why are we standing around here?"
"Because if you tell the Boss what you were doing, you might get exiled from the clan. I figured you wouldn't want that."
Instead of snorting this time, you actually give a small laugh.
"Exiled? Sounds like I wasn't the only one drinking tonight. At the very worst I'd lose my status as a Lord and you know it. Murlough, what are you playing at?"
He gives a deep sigh and then looks back into your eyes.
"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes," he says. "But fine. I'll tell you this: I have my own reasons for wanting to keep what happened to you private -- at least for now. Is that good enough?"
"Hmm. Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Do you have some batshit conspiracy theory going on in your head or what? You know none of the Lords would do anything to betray us."
"It's nothing like that," he says. "I just think... the less people that know about what happened, the better. At least for now."
"So what do you suggest? That I just don't say anything about what happened? That would be stupider than hell."
"Yeah, but we don't know exactly what's going on. Look, we could try to figure out what's going on by ourselves if you want. We're both off guard duty tomorrow, and that way nobody but us would have to get bothered with this."
You say nothing, but stand in thoughtful silence.
"We'll do whatever you want," Murlough says finally. "You're the one that got into this mess, so tell me what you want to do."
The beast comes down on the man again and he tries to roll away, but one of the sharp claws catches him and cuts into the skin of his torso. He tries to stand up and stumbles once before another metal leg swings through the leg swings through the rain and strikes him on the neck, decapitating him. His arm falls away from his stomach and a grey bit of gut slips out before the body collapses. His head hits the ground a few yards away and rolls upon the pavement, leavng a snail trail of blood.
The spider just stands there for a second with its blinking red eyes and you wait with held breath. No way it could have detected you, but still. After an eternity, you hear its metal joints creaking and it turns and leaps off down one of the other alleyways. You hear it's eery, creaking steps grow more and more faint and then nothing at all.
You wait another couple of minutes and then come out into the intersection. The dead bodies lay in the rain with long, neat slashes all over them. What the hell was that thing?
You can't even imagine. Some demon born of the modern age.
Over by the corpse that still has a head, you find a gun lying on the pavement. A .45 of course -- Stellwetter's men don't fuck around. You roll back the warm cylinder and see three bullets still in the chamber. You snap it back and put it in one of the pockets of your cloak and then leave the bodies to their determined futures.
There's no chance of finding the shooter at this point, and with that spider thing running around, it would be foolish, anyway; the best you can do is head back to your clan in Veyremendor and hold council with the other lords.
You take a right, going opposite from the spider, and begin to make your way out of this hellhole. After almost a half hour of trying to pass though the city without being seen, you come up to the Sandcross bridge, which crosses the Sandwater river. You lean over the concrete railing, while the cars pass back and forth behind you and ponder for a moment before reaching into a pocket on the pants beneath your cloak and retrieving your phone. It's been a hell of a night.
You hope it has nothing to do with the human woman, but you've began to fear that it may. A flash of her last written words to you runs across your mind like heat lightning before dissolving back to darkness:
It all has to do with you.
You punch in a long series of digits and then wait for a moment while the phone beeps in your ear. After a moment, a voice comes on the other line. Deep and whispery, like your own.
"Yes."
"Murlough," you say. "It seems we have a problem."
"Problem? What kind of a problem?"
You recount to him the nights events, omitting your suspicion that they have anything to do with the woman.
"A machanical spider?!" he says, once you've finished. "Gods be damned! Are you sure you didn't have too much to drink?"
You don't answer him.
"Well, you need to come on back right away. I'll let The Boss in on everything that's happened so far and we can decide where to go from there. Just make sure you're careful; you know it was reckless to go to that part of the city in the first place."
"Yeah it was," you say. "I'll see you soon."
"Fine."
You hang up and pass over the bridge, watching the droplets of rain where they strike the running river and create circles that become less defined and vague as they spread larger and interact with the rings caused by the other drops around them; the current of the water bending them all away into the direction of its preset vector.
For the next twenty minutes you walk along the suburbs that mark Veyremendor, with the river on one side and some houses on the other. You keep your hood up, although you don't pass anybody; on this side of the river, there's hardly anyone but gnomes, and they all tend to sleep at a decent hour.
Eventually the houses give way to the Lantern Forst that marks the northeastern edge of Delmechia and at the forest's edge you come to a freshly made clearing. A black metal gate marks the entrance to your ecampment and through the resolute bars you can make out the flaps of grey tents and supple trucks in the light of campfires.
You pound on the metal three times and two hooded guards appear on the other side of fence before they shine a flashlight in your face. After a few seconds it clicks off and the gate doors swing inward. You enter and pull an identification card from one of the many pockets in your cloak to hand to one of the guards.
"Where is Murlough?" you ask as him as he scans over the details writ upon the I.D.
He spends another second reading and then hands you the card.
"He's waiting for you over there, my Lord," he says.
The guard points over to one of the supply trucks where another cloaked figure stands slouched against the bed with his hood turned in your direction.
"Thank-you."
As you walk through the camp, the sound of several dozen whispery rough voices enters your sensitive auditory system. Elementals and lords shooting the shit around the fires.
"Murlough," you say as you approach the cloaked enigma. He gives a subtle nod and then gestures with his arm.
"Come on; let's go to my quarters."
You follow him past the trucks until you come to one of the gray makeshift tents -- this one no different than the rest -- and he ducks under the front flap. You follow him inside and he works with a couple of the lanterns until the place is well-lit and then he throws back his hood. His face is similar to yours: stoic with well-defined features and almost handsome. Instead of having a teal tint to his skin however, his face is a charred crimson. A defining trait of the fire elementals.
"So what are we doing here?" you ask. "Shouldn't we be talking with The Boss and the other Lords?"
He looks at you seriously.
"That's what I thought at first, but..."
He shakes his head at the ground.
"What the hell are you getting at?" you ask.
"The Boss... everyone. They've got a lot of shit on their plate as it is. And you've been acting like an idiot lately."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I'm only saying that it's not going to look good for you if everyone finds out where you were."
You give a small snort.
"Who do you think could be following you?" he asks. "Does it have something to do with the woman?"
"How the hell would I know? You know as much as I do."
"Hmm."
"Look," you say. "this is important shit. Why are we standing around here?"
"Because if you tell the Boss what you were doing, you might get exiled from the clan. I figured you wouldn't want that."
Instead of snorting this time, you actually give a small laugh.
"Exiled? Sounds like I wasn't the only one drinking tonight. At the very worst I'd lose my status as a Lord and you know it. Murlough, what are you playing at?"
He gives a deep sigh and then looks back into your eyes.
"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes," he says. "But fine. I'll tell you this: I have my own reasons for wanting to keep what happened to you private -- at least for now. Is that good enough?"
"Hmm. Why?"
He shakes his head.
"Do you have some batshit conspiracy theory going on in your head or what? You know none of the Lords would do anything to betray us."
"It's nothing like that," he says. "I just think... the less people that know about what happened, the better. At least for now."
"So what do you suggest? That I just don't say anything about what happened? That would be stupider than hell."
"Yeah, but we don't know exactly what's going on. Look, we could try to figure out what's going on by ourselves if you want. We're both off guard duty tomorrow, and that way nobody but us would have to get bothered with this."
You say nothing, but stand in thoughtful silence.
"We'll do whatever you want," Murlough says finally. "You're the one that got into this mess, so tell me what you want to do."