Archer

Clang. Clang. Clang. Kingston stopped his crawling to try to look at Eiran. As he did- claaaang- he smacked his head into the ceiling of the tunnel. "Oh, I hope we're in here a while longer! I'm incredibly pleased to report that the path splits ahead, and there's no way of telling the best way forward." He shuffled forward a bit to let Eiran see. As he did, he felt the metal under his knees change in texture, going from a smooth sheet of steel to a latticed grate. It rattled beneath him. "There's actually some light coming from this hatch I'm sitting on, but that doesn't seem important. Now, if you give me about an hour or so, I could use the magnets I carry with me to polarize a very small sword, put it in a bowl of water, and we'd have a helpful compass that would point the way north... you've got a bowl of water, right? I thought I saw one in your coat pocket, please don't tell me that you lost it." Kingston readjusted himself. The metal holding him up continued creak ominously. "Hey Allence," he shouted, voice echoing throughout the space, "ahead of us there's two quite unique features:" "Duct," he pointed at the path to the left. One of the screws holding the hatch he was on popped out and dropped to the ground below. He pointed right. "...duct." He was starting to get concerned about his position. I wonder if this spot is unsafe. I sure hope this grate isn't- "LOOSE!" With a bam, the metal gave way entirely, dumping the Smedry out of the ventilation system to the floor below. He smashed into the ground, rolled to the side, bounced off a wall, and came to a stop flat on his back. He was greeted by the sight of Kumiko and KanMien standing in front of him, in front of the elevator doors. Ding! At that exact moment, the lift's doors slid open. "Don't go in there," Kingston panted, ribs throbbing. "Eiran farted in it."

I’m curious, Chaos, considering contextual characteristics like cottony cumulus cloud accumulation, checking common climate coolness in Kelvin or Celsius, and comparing components of atmospheric circulation that could cause cyclones or cataclysmically consequential seasonal events, can you please articulate which Cosmere community’s customary climate conditions you’d prefer to call home?

Gentle reminder that solving crimes that you yourself committed only half counts as detective work. And if you're a duo who solves the crimes that the other person commits, that's just called flirting. I suggest rebranding as a Detective and Questionable Dating Agency, if this is the case.

Exactly! 1. You can only prove the current state of existence, which contains egg, so I'd say yes, as far as is known. 2. Spirited Away is quite good, although the boy's previous relationship with the girl needed to be foreshadowed more, ideally as the opening sequence. 3. Art tho, Romero 3.14. This may be an answer. 4. I haven't, but I choose to believe in them, so they're real to me. They're a useful punchline. *insert joke about gnuspaper here* 5. Actually, I'm neither. I'm a hooman bean 6. I don't see why not. Simply solder a Piezo to the mono socket. It takes small vibrations and converts them into AC current. Place a bit of cellotape on top of it to help strengthen it. Then use the heavy machinery to complete the dental procedure, via steam and magic. Previously posted disclaimer applies, but if you manage to make it work, I'd love to see pics. 7. A poor anagram of emu lore. Also, you're rarely as smart as you think you are, but most people won't notice that. If you aren't an expert on a subject, unless you're talking to someone who is, chances are you can get away with some errors and still seem like a valuable contributor.

Jellybeans. The music is silent.

"How much... you think it'll take?" A distant voice wafted towards Kingston. He stopped to listen. A woman responded, faint also. "Let's look around." "Around?" "Rat bird, I missed you!" As his foe reemerged from the shadows, mottled wings flapping furiously to dive at him, with a sudden clang, the Smedry's foot clamped onto a metal grate. Cold air was blowing out of it, and on the breeze, more voices, disgruntled sounding folk if he'd ever heard them. They appeared to be waiting for something. Relieved, Kingston used a small sword to pull the metal away from the wall, then let both of them fall into the abyss, revealing a squareish tunnel ahead. And in it, a family of scary looking baby flying meekers. "I think the nest of deadly rodents actually improves the air duct exploring experience," Kingston decided. His own words echoed through the chamber loudly. "Oi, speedy side-kicks, I see the light at the end of the tunnel!" Having no other choice, he squeezed himself into the space, and was promptly assaulted by the fangs of many tiny meeklings. "This is fiiiine! Oh, OW, OW, OW, this is very, very pleasant!"

Meanwhile Kingston was clinging to the hilt of a sword, dangling from a wall, millions of meters up in the air. "I don't need HEEEEEEEELP!" he cried. "Help?" echoed back a small voice. The Smedry looked to his right to find a small rodent sitting perched on the rung of a ladder. It had a pair of leathery wings and a single pointed fang, copper in colour, protruding from its mouth. The creature cocked its head quizzically. "I knew that ladder was there," Kingston grumbled, grabbing the rung below the animal before he fell into the abyss. "Ladder." The rat gleefully jumped into the air, landing on Kingston's face. "There!" "Gosh, you've got lovely smooth teeth that definitely don't make you look carnivorous!" Its front fang pushed forward, scratching the front of his Warrior's Lens. "That's cool, buddy, those weren't hard to find. I've got a fang too, wanna see it?" Out of his bag, he pulled a stiletto, which parried the rat thing to the side. It flapped its wings upwards to dodge his next strike, then dive bombed him, scratching at Kingston's fingers. His grip loosened and he fell once more, watching the underside of the creature as it did its proud victory dance above him. "I thought you things were supposed to be meekeeeeeeeeeeeer!" "Kingston?" came a voice from below, faint, but audible. "Nobody here but us Rosharan chickens!" He let himself dive for a minute more, picking up speed. Eventually, a pair of ascending figures came into view. Trusting his Warrior's Lens to assist him in the maneuver, he drove himself into the wall to grab the ladder. He missed, and smacked feet-first into the rock. But the feet stayed stuck to it, holding him in place. "Hey Eiran, do you like my Grappler’s Glass boots that I've known this whole time that I've been wearing?" Archer definitely hadn't forgotten and only just remembered when he checked Kingston's character sheet to see what Lenses he was wearing. "The way out is up there, I saw the light of the exit while I was making friends with the local wildlife." With feigned nonchalance, he began strolling up the wall, a feat which revealed an impressive amount of core strength.

"Definitely!" At first, Kingston couldn’t tell which square he was pointing to. He leaped upwards and let his fist drift into one. It held fast. “Ow, that was pleasant,” he mumbled. Then the elevator jolted slightly, and his head banged upwards. But instead of crashing into the metal ceiling, it pushed through a small, well disguised hatchway. Unfortunately for the Smedry, the elevator was still moving. Quicker than he expected, as he reached his arms through to pull himself up, he popped out into a dark shaft, lit by violent sparks of the scraping metal on rock and a light yellow glow from the top of the elevator itself. Standing on top of the elevator car, he was immediately jostled into the wall and knocked off his feet. “No need to paniiiiic!” he cried down, cutting his hand on the rough shaft wall before he got a grip on the plummeting car. “I have a brake!” Kingston reached his bloodied hand into his bag and pulled out a very sharp short sword, the kind children's parents would never let them keep unless they said it was a letter opener. Grunting, he plunged it into the wall. A second later, the elevator had moved out from under his feet, leaving him dangling from the hilt of a weapon that really wasn’t built for this kind of activity. As it raced away, its occupants would be able to hear him shouting. What he tried to shout were detailed instructions about how to deactivate and reprogram the Silimatic Glass he'd noticed glowing on top of the elevator, obviously locked into some kind of downward propulsion command. What came out was a faint, “This is fine…,” his voice getting fainter and fainter as they moved away. Making matters worse, any occupants with precognition powers might have also had visions of the elevator beginning to constrict in the near future, like the trash compactor of some space-based science fiction movie. “Never mind, I think Star Wars is canon on Alacatraz Earth, I can improve that analogy!” Kingston decided to hang tight and wonder what universe-scrambling events had occurred to make it so that the first alley he came to in the Alleycity would end up being a vertical one. “Seems very practical!”

Kingston couldn't read the writing on the wall, so he said as much, in his own way. "It says 'Pele was here'! Very useful informatioooon!" His words became distorted as the elevator picked up speed. "I appreciate the expeditious service!" he announced, terrified. He was hugging the hand rail on the side of the elevator, feet off the ground, but not squished into the roof yet. The Smedry's ears popped as the elevator continued to plunge. The mutterings about safety mechanisms sounded smart, so he extended a finger towards the bank of buttons that had started the whole fiasco. The lowermost one was a red 'Call for Help' button. He pressed it. The music turned off, replaced by a man's voice playing through the speaker system. "Cy, can you move that box? It's blocking the door." "Hey, nice looking man, can you help us?" Kingston wasn't sure where to talk into, so he just shouted. The voice on the other end continued talking. "Down, please." There was a muffled ding. "So how'd the- wahaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" "I think this is a useful development! I'll keep trying to talk to this man, live!" "Make it stoooooop... Cyroson, save the jello! Oh no, it's too late... push out the-" The recording clicked off. The Justin Beiber remix of a Spanish song faded back on.

"Huzzah, high-score!" Kingston pocketed his pretend phone, greatly confusing the mimes in his gaming server who all had at least a three car lead on him with two laps to go. They began to angrily text him, creating a phenomenon the Smedry usually attributed to phantom vibrations. He instinctively tapped his pocket. "I really need to cut down my screen time." Nodding to the man standing in the elevator next to him, Kingston leaned forward and poked the door close button. Ding! The music immediately changed to a Spanish dub of the song that had been playing. Additionally, the doors slammed shut in front of them, revealing a word scrawled there in red marker. It too was in Spanish. "They've put the exclamation mark the wrong way up," Kingston noted. "Also, this Peligro fellow has terrible handwr-" DING. With a jolt, the elevator began to plummet into a free-fall. "-IIIIIIIIITINNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!"

Tion continued to study Last, the way one teacher observes another’s technique. It was an interesting presentation. He seemed almost human with his mannerisms, with subconscious seeming tilts of the head and gestures. And yet, it was an incomplete illusion. He could never be mistaken for a mere human, his form seemed well chosen to set him apart without unnerving those he met. Meanwhile, from across the circle, a lithe black snake was sunning itself in the sand beside a standing stone, unnoticed as it bathed in the sun’s warmth. As Tion talked, its head slowly bobbed upwards, tongue flicking out to taste the air. Two tiny fangs poked out from its mouth. The snake moved forward, into the shadow in front of it. Its cold black scales shimmered as it moved, revealing a grey underbelly along its pencil-thin frame. It wiggled at speed, blazing a trail through the grass. Within a moment it would pass Sagitta, but its beady little eyes were fixed on Tion and the energies radiating out of him. “Yes, we’ve been a little isolated of late. Stuck on an island, you know how it goes. What’s going on in the world? What’s the bigger picture?” the god asked, curiously. @AonEne

Tion relayed the message in a verbatim monotone while he thought. He knew he was going insane. But having a stranger discuss it so openly was disconcerting. The concept apparently had a specific, but useful skill-set, including unusual insight into the minds of others. "Entropy is a problem. As is Intensity. Both have embraced their destructive sides. As, I suppose, have I, by proxy." "We need to... deal with some errant gods. There's other disasters brewing, but they'll be what burns us first if they're allowed to go unchecked." For the first time, he opened his eyes to really study the being in front of him. He didn't glean much, it was like looking at a child's Sensation illusion, always wavering and blurry. He made a mental note to track if the concept started to solidify its form. "You're a lot like my Dark Side. Physically, rather harmless. Merely chock full of power and ambitions. I don't suppose that gives you any ideas how to confront him? Or any of the other gods? I'm sure they'd argue that I'm just as bad as they, but better the fiend you know, right?" He was flailing. He should have had better questions prepared, or some strategy to share. Conveniently, his companion was well versed in military strategy. "Sagitta, perhaps you can help with this. We appear to have found ourselves a new ally. One capable of spying, psychological warfare, offering knowledge... how do we suggest we use this asset? And Last, you are an asset. I don't trust you, but if our goals genuinely align, it's in your best interests to let me and my advisor take charge here. Otherwise I may see the need to deal with you too." He let the threat hang in the air, hoping his aggressive confidence would conceal his utter ignorance.

Kingston was thinking about art. That's what all the smart people did, they looked at art and thought really hard about it. But as finding art to look at was hard and time consuming, he simply chose a spot on a wall and stared at it, waiting for its form and colouring to reveal the secrets of the human condition. The spot he'd chosen was a shiny grey wall. He'd picked it because it had a little circle beside it that offered nice contrast. "Obviously the work of a classic minimalist sculptor," he mused. Then, because he'd never been good at following the rules of impromptu art galleries, he reached a hand out and rapidly poked at the circle several times. Ding! The door of the elevator he'd been looking at slid open, revealing a comically undersized box, designed based on the philosophy that riding an elevator with another person was already an inherently uncomfortable experience, so if it was cramped and scratched wall mirrors on the sides made it impossible to avoid making eye contact with each other, then it really wouldn't make that much of a difference. Besides, the weight rating clearly said '1,000 kg', and round, arbitrary numbers were calming in these situations, so no one could possibly feel uneasy. As Kingston stepped into the elevator, a static-filled copyright-free song began to play. He recognized the tune, even though he'd never heard the song before. The doors remained stubbornly open, so the Smedry couldn't stare at them. Instead, he looked down at his hand and pretended to be texting someone on an invisible phone. "Darn, the reception in here is no good."

"It was worth a shot," Tion grunted. "It says it is a Concept, and implies that its the one who spoke to you previously." Are you a remnant of something, he thought at it, unaware that it wasn't a telepath. Are you some accidental by-product of an even greater magic? The god blindly maneuvered himself over to one of the rocks. He could feel it humming to his touch, like the purr of a kitten. To say that he was disappointed would be an understatement. This hadn't just been the plan, it had been a test run, for when they faced a similar foe. Himself. Now he was spent, mind operating on autopilot. Naturally, that made him prone to rambling. "Quite convenient that you can only appear to one person at a time. Makes it hard to tell if you're real. We went to the hole you came up out of. That place was bristling with power too. My only conclusion was that you intended to make a spectacle, to draw some influential attention." "If that's what you were going for, you've done it. You've won an audience with a god, well done. Better yet, you've piqued my curiosity! So tell me Last, where do you fit into the Augury and how might I use you to my advantage? In case you hadn't seen it already in my mind, we have a few powerful enemies to contend with, lest this realm be crushed into oblivion. You do have some supernatural abilities, right?"

That meant that because he finished his project, he missed his deadline.

*deletes Tinder account in favour of a Coppermind one*

Tion flinched when Last appeared, hazy and indistinct, as if projected from a distance. The creature spoke directly to him, into him with concerning ease. Tion immediately squeezed his eyes shut to it. Of course it’s a telepath. Tion’s memories were extensive. Most of them were ultimately useless: the secrets of long dead men, skills learned that were now obsolete, stories of adventures of no historical significance. The sheer scale acted as a layer of protection. If parts were corrupted or lost, chances are they weren’t important. And if anyone tried to scan his brain, it would take a while to find what they were looking for. But the mind is easily tricked. The more one thought about hiding their deepest secrets, the more those thoughts crept to the forefront of the mind. And Tion was all too familiar with the power of Sensation magic like this. A quick image of the right face or building or line of text and he’d instinctively call up the corresponding memory, revealing it. And he’d need more than a good poker face to bluff past this man. Entropy’s farts, this was going to be difficult. “My companion should already be aware of your presence,” he said slowly, focussing on keeping his mind blank and unreadable. To test a theory, he thought the next sentence, but didn’t say it out loud. Soldier, please come here. Can he tell the difference between speech and- Realizing his mistake, Tion stopped and recollected himself. “You are not of me. I don’t sense any connection. But you appear to have similar powers. Are you my replacement?” He stepped forward into the space Last occupied. He felt nothing. “Sagitta, open your mind carefully. Try to feel it. Feel the power of this spot. You can speak and it will hear you, but it can’t appear to a young mind distracted by consciousness.” Attempting to confuse the creature, Tion began trying to communicate in a combination of thoughts and speech. “Last.” Tell me your intentions. As we stand here, surrounded, “by the power of these stones,” reveal your true self. “I bind you to this spot.” With what he hoped was a surprising amount of sudden effort, he hissed, and tried to impose his will on Last. He threw his mind open, blasting centuries of memories into his psyche, flashing through them at unimaginably uncomprehendable speed. He felt at the ether, trying to channel the local magics through his soul, to dominate all the power in the region. Sweat poured down his back. Every muscle in his arms was clenched. His eyes were still squeezed shut, unwilling to humor the illusion. He screamed a thunderous nonsense word at the air and threw up his hands. “CRATHOSS!” Noticeably straining, Tion fell to one knee. His heart was pounding as he panted, waiting for some kind of a reaction.

As he swam about in a pool of pages, a musty piece of parchment became lodged in Kingston’s mouth. Curious, he bit into it, then immediately spit it out, retching. “The paper tastes good!” he shouted to anyone who might have been listening. The Smedry had lost track of the others, so he just tried to claw his way forward, half walking, half swimming. He felt a piece of paper fall into his pocket. Once past the epicenter of the massive pileup, he pulled it out and began to throw it away. But as he glanced at it, he recognized the handwriting. It was his. Dear sirs, the letter began. I wish to formally apply to become a member of TUBA, the foremost guild of bankers in the Alleyverse. He cringed, thinking about how hard he had struggled to write that sentence, just for it to come out wrong. I have extensive cookie and biscuit making experience and wish to use my talents for the betterment of my community. Attached you will find my forms, completed in triplicate. There were no forms, paperwork had never been his strong suit. And even then, it didn’t matter because he’d signed the cover letter with, Thank you for your consideration, Bartley Bongos. At the bottom, someone had stamped the word ‘REJECTED’ in blood red ink. Even though he’d put the wrong name on his letter, rendering the whole attempt moot, that hurt. Frustrated, Kingston crumpled the page into a ball and threw it back into the heap. “I don’t think you guys are still coming!” he hollered, waiting for the rest of the party to catch up.

Tion, for his part, was quietly contemplative on the trip to the stones. At one point, he stopped and removed his shoes, carrying them the rest of the way down the road. It helped him sense the ground’s mood. What they eventually arrived at was a the Ta’e’lioan equivalent of an urban park. Once a common lands for growing and grazing, a massive wall now bisected it, splitting it into two parts too small to be of much use for anything but leisure and sparring. The wall was easy enough to navigate around because it was half-collapsed and abandoned, the defensive line moved forward to ward off attackers before they would ever reach this point. As they stepped into a grassy valley on the far side, moving beyond the shadow of the wall, there was no one else in sight. Just a circle of moss-covered stones with a worn trail leading down to them. Tion slapped the first one they came to. “Aw yeah, that’s a good one. But that one’s out of line, those two are leaning the wrong way, and this one needs a better name.” He stroked its weathered face. “Greg. It prefers to go by Greg.” There was a bowl of thick white liquid lying at the base of one of the boulders. Tion casually raisd it to his lips and downed it in one sip. Then the god began slamming his weight against the rocks, shifting them into better positions, seemingly oblivious to any pain cause by it. “This part’s up to you, Sagitta! I got these. You need to sit in the middle and concentrated on drawing him here. It’ll become easier once I correct the placement of-” he nearly fell as he rebounded off a boulder, but caught himself “-these terribly maintained stones.” “Oh, and get your sword out. Just in case, please.”

The woman looked Sagitta up and down, lips pursed into a tight frown. “And you?” she hollered at Tion. The god stepped forward and bowed his head respectfully. “Support crew. Had the misfortune of running rations to the Bears when-” She cut him off. “Got any actual training?” “Um, no. In fact, I bless the gods, I had the luck of meeting Sagitta here, who took the time to nurse me back to health after I was wounded by-” “Ms. T’Sora, one of your company passed our way last week. Lieutenant A’Rollo.” The guard’s gruff expression gave way to the worn stress lines and cheerless smile of a soldier’s mother. “I’m sorry, luv, the news wasn’t good. Gru, get your head out of that stupid hole and start raising this portcullis!” As the bars clanked upwards, she continued gently. “If you go south, you’re going to be reassigned. It was that kind of a battle for them. But you’re a strong lass. I expect you’re better with that sword than most of the volunteers we got here. You’re welcome to stay a while and wait. See if any more come.” The tone of her voice made it clear that she was desperate for good help. “But if ya determined to go, Sensation guide you on your journey. There’s an old circle to the south-west. You can follow this road to the mill, then track along the stream a ways. That’s near where they got through last time. Walls ain’t standing, but gods know, those circles have a way of surviving. If anyone gives you trouble, just tell em Cat gave you the okay." As the portcullis chimed to a stop, she stepped to the side, one hand raised in a salute. “The choice is yours.”

“Sure.” Tion repeated the word again and again, trying to adjust his accent to match Sagitta’s better. “Sure. Sure. Sure…” He was weary. Emotions hurt to feel. Irritated with himself, he slumped his shoulders and loosened up his coat, making his frame seem smaller beneath the mass of fabric. He wasn’t worried that they’d be mistaken for Nomads, but the guards might just dismiss them out of an abundance of caution if something seemed off. “You take point in the conversation,” Tion breathed. “I’ll back you up and try to look harmless.” He consciously developed a slight limp in his left leg, but kept pace with Sagitta’s strides. The path they were taking turned and took them parallel to the wall for a hundred meters, giving the men on top ample time to inspect them. He resisted the urge to look up at them, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the indentation ahead: a fair-sized stone archway about the width of a cart. Holes along its sides where hinges would be indicated that it used to hold a door, but now it was only blocked by an iron portcullis. As they approached, a heavily armoured guard who had been sitting on the other side stood and picked up a red-painted spear. They shouted something, but their voice was muffled beyond recognition by their visor. “Bloody armour.” They took their helmet off, sending a long brown ponytail cascading down their back. The motion revealed her to be a middle aged woman with a strong jawline. She spat on the ground. “Oi, two on the road! Come a little closer so I don’t have to holler atcha.” Tion smiled at her and tried to get a better look at the insignia on her collar, half-covered by her breastplate. She scowled in his direction and addressed Sagitta instead. “Just the usual, luv. Family, destination. Whatcha doing, where ya going, and why should I letcha through? Oh, and tell your gent to stop ogling me or I’ll order Gru to give him two bad legs. You are manning the murder-hole, aren’t you Gru?” She glared at the ceiling of the arch. A small, previously disguised hatch was pulled back and a timid voice called down through it. “Sorry, ma’am.” An arrowhead poked through the opening, pointed in Sagitta and Tion’s general direction.

“Well there’s a lot I don’t know! Okay?” He bit his tongue to keep from screaming what he was thinking. You’re barely know me, kid. I know a boat-load more than’s in your tiny twenty-year old mind. A couple of comrades is nothing compared to the people I’ve seen wither away. Your anger is a testament to that. After a while, it just fades away. Even death loses its meaning, in time. “So the gods don’t meet your expectations. Fine. What are you going to do about it?” He moved to follow her, but kept his distance. She could probably use a fight right now to work out the pain, but he was in no condition to give her one. “It’s hurts, doesn’t it. It feels all violet, with streaks of purple. The grieving shade is one of the most vibrant, second only to outright anger.” He realized he was describing emotions in a way that only made sense to him. But he was struggling to remember what it felt like. It had been a while since something had really shook him like that. There’d been something significant a few years ago, but he couldn’t remember the details. That was strange, now that he thought about it. He changed tact. “I hear your concerns. I empathize with you.” Despite himself, a hint of bitterness crept to the forefront of his mind. “Imagine my position. I swore off killing. I never so much as ordered it. I tried to keep my hands clean, for its own sake. And then the grand nation of Ta’e’lio decides to use my name as a battle cry. It was like they were trying to put their killings on my conscience. Ever seen a god have an existential crisis?” “Yeah. Yeah, let’s finish this. Because some bad blood has been spilt. I never asked you to kill for me. This isn’t an ideal situation for either of us. So do what you need to do, just know that I’ve got problems too.” He let his arms fall limply to his side, accepting whatever fate was in store for him. He was vaguely aware that what he had said wasn't helpful, but this conversation needed to be had for them to continue as a team.

Tion shrugged. “I am Sensation. I am the last good creature in a world of monsters. That is all I know for sure. You doubt me because I strike you as too human. I’m not almighty and aloof enough, yeah? But have you considered that maybe its because your traits are a reflection of mine? Technically speaking, I am a god. I’m special. I’m fairly confident that I’m immortal. When you cut me, I bleed slowly. And I posses powers beyond the scope of any mortal. People worship me. Back in the beginning, we were much more open about our status. That planted the seeds in people’s mind, it made them conceive of the notion of godhood itself. So in that sense, yes, I am your god.” He looked at his pile of stones. A few of them were pretty shades of solid grey, so he pocketed them. The rest he left in a heap. “Now, if you give people enough time, they’ll come up with other ideas too. Monotheists, worshipers of the abstract, all sorts of imaginative ways to be wrong. It’s entirely possible that I had a hand in creating this realm. I don’t remember that far back. There are gaps in my memory, I suspect it was intentional, a group effort to hide the truth from ourselves. Should gods be able to do that? Who knows, we’re writing the rules as we go. Point is, as far as options for worship go, we’re the gang that’s the most likely to offer something in return for your fealty. We do stuff in the world. Consciously.” “There are others in Hopearaa that are ancient. Other systems of magic exist. If you want to get all philosophical on me, you could argue that they deserve your praise just as much as I do. But a tenth of this continent’s populace has me to thank for their powers. Remember that. Respect all your elders, but be the friendliest to the ones that give you gifts.” It was a long speech, one he hadn’t planned on giving. He wasn’t fully aware of it, but the Augury and its corresponding events were making him nervous. Like a dying man passing on stories to his grandchildren, there were things he wanted to talk out before it was too late. “Right then. If you’ve got bigger stone circles around, I’m all for that. I can calibrate them just as easily as the little stones, and the result will be better. Surely someone near the capital will have some ideas where to find one. Shall we?” He gestured towards Decien. He suspected Sagitta had other reasons for wanting to explore the area first anyway, so they could afford a slight delay.

Kingston rushed past Zokora, diving forward to slide past him on his belly along the polished floor. “This feels like a traaaaaaap!” he cried delightedly as he zoomed down the hall. His cheer didn’t echo, as he’d expected, but it was still fun to feel the wind in his face. Plus, the more he acted like a fool, the less anyone would suspect he was guilty of certain heinous crimes. The Smedry slammed into the far wall, next to the mysterious door with the number ‘4’ on it. This close to it, he could see the detailed stone carvings that surrounded the arch: a beautiful relief of some climbing ivy. Despite himself, he chuckled at the Latin joke. “I recommend we blow this thing open, it will help us gain the element of surprise. I know at least one of you has explosives, every sensible adventurer carries them.” In front of him, the door shimmered. What at first glance had appeared to be a simple obsidian-tinted portal actually seemed more like a writhing mass of shadows. Having made it to his feet, Kingston leaned in to inspect the phenomenon. It was hard to make out the individual parts, but it almost looked like the arch was filled with thousands of tiny black letters, spinning around, clumping together, creating the illusion of a solid doorway. Cautiously, he poked at it with his foot. It vanished from sight, swarmed by the coalescing words. He leaned forward some more, and promptly fell off a ledge, disappearing beyond the threshold. Seconds later, a roaring tsunami of flying pages erupted from the doorway, bursting into the hallway like a tidal wave.