Daughter of Wreath

A bassy rumble begins to shake the entire chamber, dust drifting off of the walls and ceiling in great plumes. I stare up at the metallic creature in horror and awe, taking what fleeting moments I might have used to flee to take in its appearance, to attempt to see andunderstandthis iron behemoth as it rouses itself to life, though whether it's 'activated' or simply enraged by our presence, I can't say.

The thing far exceeds Gelyn in height, explaining why the chamber containing it is so massive - I'd guess it at ten or eleven feet, though how many thousands of pounds it must weigh I cannot possibly fathom. In ways, it resembles a enormous suit of plate mail with a full helmet, a single wide point of piercing orange light peering out from behind its visor. Glyphs and sigils decorate the armor, but are neither painted nor neatly engraved, but crudelyrentinto place, as if a dagger, axe, or saw was used to scarify the metal. To torture it.

It is so muchmorethan armor, though, for it holds no wearer within its metal cage, but an endless maze of whirring, chewing things, the inner workings of its magical artifice sometimes visible at joints or between plates. What few glimpses I get of those reveals them to not bemechanicalin nature at all, not the cogs and springs one would expect to see on a great clock or other modern device. The things moving beneath the plates are tinycreatures, shackled and chained to one another, bound to perpetual labor operating this titan - spirits, not unlike the creature in Paiz-Lee's lamp, or the ones Vexa has previously conscripted to our services. Creatures of the natural world, enslaved in iron forever.

"Ooooh, this is gonnasuck!" Gelyn exclaims, though her voice remains oddly cheerful as she tightens her grip around the handle of her mace-ax, preparing for what promises to be a very unfortunate experience. The rest of us quickly backpedal, brandishing weapons of our own as the thing shakes the dust off of itself, gauntlet-like hands flexing and tightening, exploring their range of motion over what must have been an outstandingly long time dormant. It doesn't speak, but it doesgroan- a sound not unlike that of my village's blacksmith, Otto, getting out of a comfortable chair... if he was ten times the size and encased in steel.

In a moment, that groan rises to a shriek, the sound of tortured iron echoing off stone walls as the sound bellows from deep within it, not a voice, but afunction, every inch of anguished metal now awakened... and if the bas-relief outside is any indication, probably also quite unhappy. "MMMRRHHHHHHH-!" the thing roars, tilting its massive body to point a massive arm at Gelyn. The shokari is alert, ready to react... but not fast enough by a fair measure to parry a blow from the titan's fist, for it does not strike as a human would. Rather, it 'aims' its fist toward her, then fires it forth like a bolt from a crossbow, its fist rocketing forth from the elbow on a sturdy metal slide - and, for however brief a moment, exposing the writhing, squealing spirits beneath the armor.

While Gelyn neither parries nor evades the strike, her weapon blocks a portion of the blow, the force of the attack still sending her flying back a solid five feet and onto her ass, scrambling to stand once more. The thing pivots at the waist - no, not pivots,rotates- now facing me. "Oh no - no nono no no no-!" I yelp as the opposite fist launches out at me. It makes full contact with my chest, and even as I roll with the blow, trying to let the force carry mebackwardrather than just crushing all my pitiful little bones, a wave of pain blasts out through my entire body, the kind of pain that makes yourteethhurt, the kind of pain that makes you wonder for a few moments if you actually survived at all. I'm sent back even farther than Gelyn was, and far less gracefully. I feel my back slam against the brick wall behind me, feel a couple ribs crack, and taste warm blood trickling down from behind my nose, onto my tongue. A single hit. Asinglehit.

I blink in pain and confusion, regaining consciousness an instant later, now slumped on the floor with my back against the wall, legs splayed out in front of me, my short sword clattered to the stone half a foot from my fingertips, where I dropped it. I try to move, to reach for it, but my muscles scream with pain - and I'm confronted with just how useless I really am. What sort ofidiotam I to wander willingly and knowingly into danger when I have no noteworthy skills of my own? Above-average overland stamina and the ability to tell a western wanderlark from a blue-tipped bushdart won't do anything against a giant made of steel, deep below Wreath's surface, in some dungeon where I'll probably die. My only power comes from monsters... and there aren't any here. If I survive this, it'll be because of the women I brought with me.

But how magnificent they are! Shortly after hitting the wall myself, Gelyn's already back on her feet, lunging forward with her great, bladed mace, crushing the blunt end against the joint at the creature's shoulder. I can see she's being cautious, too - after underestimating the speed of the first strike, she now evades the direction those fists face entirely, keeping toward the golem's back and sides, displaying surprising agility considering her enormous, muscular frame. It pivots constantly, letting out that long, low, thunderous murmur as it tries to get her in reach of one of its devastating blows, great plumes of dust gushing out from its joints as it launches its fists outward again and again, trying to land a hit against the elusive shokari.

Our goblin guide, Paiz-Lee Funcheon, slipped out of the fray before the first blow landed, wheeling around towards the back of the chamber. While shehadbeen tightly clasping that short, straight-backed seax she keeps, it's back in its scabbard now - instead, the goblin's taking a moment to rifle through that little butt-pack of hers, sorting through different strange items and finally withdrawing what she was looking for: a fine, thin length of chain, on either end of which is a segmented bronze orb. She grins, a grin that shows teeth, as she clicks a small catch on either of the orbs, causing them to slightly expand, now taking on more of an oblong shape as parts of their inner workings are exposed. I can only watch, uncertain but interested, as she tosses the length of chain at the creature, successfully wrapping it around on iron-jointed knee.

For a moment, I wonder what the point was. It doesn't explode, there's no spikes or anything like that, it doesn't even seem to restrict the movement of that specific joint - this metal behemoth still stomps back and forth, pursuing the shokari who's so desperately trying to doanydamage to it, largely failing. It takes some time before I notice the gadget's purpose: from the extended 'capsules,' a viscous black substance has begun to drip, streaming down the goliath's leg, ever closer to its foot. What gooey liquid could this be, and why would it- wait! Could this be Dark Oil? I've read precious little about it, other than that it somehow differs from the oils we get from seeds or blubber, what we use to keep our lanterns running. Valuable, too, or... it's supposed to be, anyway. Why does Paize have it? And why's she wasting it by letting it dribble down this golem's leg? Strange goblin!

Vexa, visibly, is holding back, keeping a safe distance with her staff positioned in front of her, using its gnarled tip to send forth a thin, crackling ray of blue-white light, like a lightning bolt but far, far less impressive. While the golem barely seems to notice it, her restraint makes sense if what she said about magic is true - that it doesn't come from nothing, but the wielder's own life, shaving weeks, months, and even years off the time a magic-user may spend on Wreath. If she goes all-out on a fight that would eventually have been won anyway, she's wasted something she can never get back. The way I feel, though, knowing the force of the creature's blows... I do wish the elf was doing more to help.

Gelyn backpedals step after step, letting the golem press her, gain momentum. I can't tell if she's trying to lure it away from us or if she's just getting exhausted from the burden of the thing's attention, but it thunders after her, each massive step summoning a storm of dust and dry, cracking papers into the air, those fists raining down hit after hit, more focused now, almost impossible to evade completely. More and more hits are being slapped away by Gelyn's mace-ax, or making contact with glancing blows. She can't keep this up much longer, and I don't think I can-

There's a grinding and squeaking sound as the metallic monstrosity tries to take another step forward, its massive, 'booted' foot landing, then abruptlytwistingin place, sending the entire thing into a tight spiral with enormous momentum, ultimately crashing down to one knee. An instant before it falls, I see - or at least IthinkI see - what caused the collapse: the black goo trickling down its leg, what I suspect to be Dark Oil, has finally reached the bottom of the creature's foot. Isthatwhat caused it to slip? Or has Thoph possessed me, given me the gift of creating something from nothing, in this case a half-formed theory out of precious little information?

What's important, though, is that the thing's fallen. Still incredibly dangerous, mind - its torso continues to pivot around, though now with a more slow and jerky rhythm, and its arms still lash out in front of it... butonlyin front of it and to its sides, leaving its backside exposed. More importantly, it's extended itself in a way it isn't meant to, its 'breastplate' lifting up from what would be its waist, exposing an underbelly of the squirming, wailing spirits bound inside.

Spirits...

Wait, are spirits monsters?

I try to summon the strength to make my fingers twitch, my toes curl, anything. Time seems to slow down as I watch my three companions seize this moment of advantage - Gelyn wears a wide smile despite her battered body, having crawled onto the thing's back, smashing down blow after blow at the back of its head. Paize throws strange little contraptions of bent and twisted metal that stick in place like burrs, aiming at the creature's joints, causing them to pop and squeak as it tries to move. Vexa has gotten a little closer, keeping that thin beam of light streaming forth from her staff, but now aiming it directly at the open visor of the golem's 'head.' "Die you fuck!" she snarls, "Those take you, just stop fucking moving!"

It does not stop moving. It's slowed, distracted, annoyed, enraged, but it never seemsdamaged, it doesn't seem like anything any of us can do can actuallystopit. Unless, maybe... I can get to it. I grit my teeth, and concentrate. Think of why I'm here - not just in this ancient, dusty tomb for long-forgotten golems, but why I came to Tague, why I've traveled halfway across Paraven and gathered these strange women along my journey. My mother. I have to find her, I have to... to save her, if she's in danger. I may not be a real hero, but it's time to start acting like it.

With an agonized groan, I plant a foot beneath myself, and push myself forward, half-standing, half-crawling, half-stumbling, gaining enough forward momentum that I find myself trundling forward on knees and elbows, one hand outstretched toward the creature's exposed 'waist.' It rotates sharply in place, a shriek of rent iron ringing out through the chamber as Paiz-Lee's metal burrs dig into its joints - and it grabs Gelyn by the arm, squeezing tight, causing the shokari to scream out in pain. "AaaaaaAAaEeGHhhHhH-!" I hear a bone break, I think, as her scream rises into a defiant, blood-curdling crescendo.

I hear shouts around me, and as ever, that endless, hollow moan from the golem itself, but it's all drowned out by the rushing of the blood in my own ears. I stumble a few half-steps more, thenlunge, reaching out at the exposed cluster of spirits. I don't know what this will do, or if it'll do anything at all - I don't have the slightest understanding of how or why my ability works, so right now, all I'm going off of is blind faith... faith, and the hope that if I pull my weight, we all make it out of this place alive.

My fingers tangle in a clump of writhing bodies, the wires and fine chains that keep them linked together, keep drawing from them to power the steel behemoth they reside within. They feel... soft. Tingly. Squishy, almost. Not all of them are the same, though. These are spirits taken from all over, some swath of the natural world raped of the things that made it live, now likely lying barren. Little creatures of springs and ponds, grasses, flowers, campfires, ashes, smoke, earth, insects. Everything that makes life alive, everything that makes Wreathreal, shackled together to fuel this abomination.

I make a fist, and try to use my power, focusing on this handful of small, squirming things, using my mind's eye to visualize their essence flowing into me. I've never used my powers on a spirit before, nor on several things at once, and I know next to nothing about whatever sort of magic is binding them. I can only hope for the best.

I see black, and pain shoots through me, spreading from my hand to my chest, then radiating outward until it's reached every fingertip, every toe, my eyes aching, tongue aching, even my hair feels like it's aflame. Blackness again, then light, then blackness - I see the stone floor beneath me, hear shouting from Vexa, hear metal against stone - blackness again - more pain - the floor again, now with a splatter of blood, from my mouth I think - blackness again. Finally I roll onto my back and gasp, sucking in a stale breath, the taste of iron and dust on my tongue, my vision spinning, blurred. I squeeze my eyes shut, wonder if that was the last time they'll ever open.

Blackness again.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Nae worries, Tague's safe a place as any for the wee kine to have a wink o' beauty sleep. Wit the haul we got here, we've more'n enough bits to see she's treated fondly, aye?"

"The question is whether she's gonna wake up after that, at all."

"Oh, she will, won't she? Four adventurers is just the right amount, and... well, I'm not sure we could have done it without her."

"Four? Who said anythin' aboot four? Dinnae act like I'm one o' yer merry band after we're back to the city, I got wit I wanted, ne'er signed myself to travel across Wreath wit ye."

"Fair enough." I feel the back of a clammy hand touch my forehead, definitely Vexa's. A moment later, long fingers feel my neck for a pulse. "She's alive, and breathing. Yo, bug! If there's anyone in there, let me know if you want us to bury you here or have Gelyn carry you back to Tague. Alternatively, it's not impossible that I could transfer your consciousness into one of these golem bodies, but considering your weird-ass power, I'm not sure I recommend that. Not sure I wanna see a half-grazzoth golem."

My eyes slowly crack open, but I'm definitely not strong enough to sit up. "Uggghhhhhhh..."

"Oh shit! She's awake!" Gelyn gasps, rushing over to my side with a wide, bright smile.

"Well, dust me wit sweetness and call me a hotcake." I hear Paiz-Lee's voice, but can't see the goblin from where I'm laying.

"Gelyn can... carry me... anywhere she -koff- wants," I chuckle weakly, struggling to pull myself up onto one elbow, getting a look at my surroundings. We're still in the same chamber, and the golem we fought lies inert in the middle of it, in the same position it had been when I'd touched it, the cuirass lifted to exposed its 'waist' - which now lies empty but for some chains and wires, devoid of all the spirits that had once infested it. "What... happened, exactly?"

Vexa considers her words a moment, dragging her single metal fang over her lower lip thoughtfully. "Well, after you did... whatever the fuck it was that you did, it was, uhh... hm." She pauses again. "It was like dumping a bucket full of ice onto a bonfire. Lot of smoke and light and noise. Was sorta hard to tell whatexactlyhappened. You changed colors a few times. Then, ahh... yeah."

"Its head popped off, but we beat at it for a little while afterwards just to make sure!" Gelyn adds excitedly. She'sbadlybeaten up - blood cakes her brow, lip, and nose, and has left her brightly-colored clothing primarily red, while black bruises ringed with a sickly pale green decorate a good deal of her purple-gray skin. Somehow, she seems to be in excellent spirits.

I try to shake the pain and dizziness from my head, sitting up a bit more and feeling more pain and tension in my chest - some ribs are definitely cracked, if not broken entirely. Not great. At least we aren't far from civilization. Vexa stands up to join our goblin 'friend' in looting the room, and suddenly I remember why we even came here in the first place. "So, Paize, did you get, uh... whatever it is you wanted to come here for?"

"More'n I coulda hoped for, lass," the goblin shoots a wide grin in my direction, holding up an inscribed metal orb that she's fished out of one of the inert golems lining the walls. "I'll scav the best stuff, then sell the coordinates - get a team of strong-backed blokes to come gather all the scrap wi'out fear o' harm. Shame the research looks to all be rubbish, whoever was here built somethin'impressive, but not exactly... stable."

"Notallthe research," comes a pleased coo from Vexa, the witch rummaging through desks and piles of papers - not looking for thepartslike Paize is, but the notes left behind, and it seems like she's found something. "This is coming with us. Call it a finder's fee."

"Oy, now, we had a-"

"It is not up for discussion." The elf's tone is icy and final. "Hey, bigstuff, you alright to carry Nowa? I'd like to get out of this place and into a warm bath sooner, rather than later. We've held up our end of the arrangement, and the city awaits."

"I can get her, yeah," Gelyn nods, "I just hope she doesn't mind the occasional big sneeze."

"I'll be alright," I wince, laying back down and awaiting collection. "And yeah, a bath sounds great. And... probably a healer, too."

"Ain't a thing in Tague's free," Paize warns, "but... as I said, this is a better haul'n I expected to get. Be a pity to send the three o' ye into Tague wi'out so much as an ambit to your names. We'll work somethin' oot."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It takes longer to get back to Tague than it took to reach the catacombs. The agony of cracked ribs I find is pleasantly tempered by the joy of being bridal-carried by Gelyn, though I have to actively shield my face from the yield of her many, many violent sneezes along the way, one of which nearly sees me dropped to the ground.

Finally, we reach the gates of Tague. It's quite... impressive, in a strange way. Tall walls surround the city, constructed of bent, jagged metal, rusted through and patched over in plenty of spots, the tops of the walls sporting spikes or cut into sawbacks, ensuring that any attempt to climb over would be... inadvisable. In addition, every so often a section of wall will have a palisade built behind it, acting as a platform for one of the city's true guardians: Golems, just as Paize said. Every bit as twisted, tarnished, and malformed as the walls themselves, these barely-humanoid monstrosities stand silent, unfeeling vigil over this city of scandal. Quite an effective deterrent; I can see why the Order hasn't tried to impose itself upon Tague.