Mage Tank

This is the part of the story where I try to make Varrin’s recovery a nail-biting tale of the big guy riding the razor’s edge of life and death while the rest of the team combined our skills to save him moments before he slipped away.

I’ll save some time and admit that it wasn’t that exciting.

We were worried, true, but Varrin’s state of spiritual disruption wasn’t getting any worse as time went on. After a few minutes of evaluation, Xim and I carried him out of the spherical chamber. Varrin’s soul was in trouble, but he was physically fine, so it felt safe to get him somewhere he could lay without being in a crumpled mess. The spherical soul chamber was as large as a small house, but it was mostly solid. The space where Varrin had collapsed was just large enough for one person to stand comfortably and about 5 feet wide, which meant that the huge man had collapsed into a distinctly uncomfortable position.

Varrin weighed at least 400 pounds in his armor, and I was hit with an unexpected wave of disbelief when I lifted him. I’d had about 6 weeks to get used to my recent Strength upgrades, but Strength gains were exponential. Going from a 10 to a 22 had more than tripled my lift capacity. By all rights that should have made me incapable of piloting my own body for a time and there had to have been some sort of magic shenanigans at work keeping the enhancement from destroying my coordination or causing me to accidentally crush anything I picked up. Even so, the cognitive impact of a 400-pound man feeling like he was no heavier than a plastic mannequin was jarring, and it made me feel like a stranger in my own body.

I shook off the feeling of depersonalization as we settled Varrin onto some blankets Nuralie provided, not that it mattered much given his armor and superhuman constitution, but it felt more respectful.

“How long can we stay here?” I asked the Icon. There was no formal time limit provided, but the Delve had already proven that it had hidden deadlines.

“Normally I remove candidates from this room as soon as they complete the challenge,” the elephant-sized living statue replied. “Once the choice is made, there is often internal conflict. It would be unfortunate if the Delvers murdered each other before unlocking the phase. Of course, if I’d been sacrificed, I wouldn’t be able to enforce that rule. I have no idea what would happen in that case.”

“Are you planning to kick us out? We need to treat our ally and there’s no risk of us fighting one another. No one was murdered, consensually or otherwise.”

“I suppose you can stay,” it said with resignation. “But only for a little while. System Core 2 will be eager to move things along.” The Icon looked us over like we were guests staying past our welcome, but moved away and settled down for a nap without further comment.

The next few hours were spent working through the problem, and I used Reveal to share my vision of Varrin’s soul with everyone. Nuralie grilled me on how his state differed from normal, and any theories I had about what was happening. I wasn’t sure I provided much help, but she eventually felt confident enough to start working on a spiritual balm that she described as “an anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxer.” Pause. “But for the soul.” Grotto gave her an assist with some of the more complex matters of Spiritual Magic, and I used Sage Advice twice during delicate moments of the brewing process. My insistence that soul food could never have too much butter was apparently some kind of breakthrough for Nuralie.

The balm took the form of an ointment that we could directly apply to Varrin’s skin. This required the removal of his armor, but thankfully the medicine did not have to be lathered on everywhere. Once the big guy was glistening like an oiled-up bodybuilder, it was a matter of wait-and-see. Varrin’s soul slowly calmed over the next hour, and he eventually entered a state similar to sleep. We let him have some rest, and I tried to use the time to ask the Icon some questions, but the statue had gone inert. Even its synthetic soul had disappeared, and it had become little more than a hunk of painted stone.

Instead, we went over the items we’d received. After ensuring everyone was up-to-date with what Shog, Nuralie, and I had gotten, Etja brought out her new wand.

Prismatite Wand of the Descent

Requirements: Etja Nothosis, Escalated Delver

Effects:

1) This wand can be used as a focus for Mystical spells. (Using a focus causes the spell attack to gain the weapon attack bonuses of the focus.)

2) +10 mystical damage with weapon attacks using this item.

3) Whenever you hit an entity with an attack using this weapon, you may choose to deal 20 kinetic damage to all entities other than you within 5 feet of the target. This effect can only occur once per attack.

4) Your maximum number of Blessed stacks is increased by 6.

5) While performing the Mirtasian Dance, your attacks deal an additional X damage and the speed at which you can dodge is increased by X% where X is your Incantation skill level.

“I’ve already thought of some wizardly flourishes I can use with it!” said Etja.

She spun and waved the item like a conductor’s baton, flicking her wrist at beats where she might cast a spell. It reminded me of a scene from Fantasia. Etja could probably even morph her body to become more mouse-like if she wanted, but I was the only one who’d have gotten the joke so I held my tongue.

“It’s the first one that isn’t demon-related,” I said. “Has anyone heard of Prismatite?”

“Nope,” said Xim. Nuralie shook her head.

“Can we determine which effects are due to the Prismatite?” asked Nuralie. “The ‘Demon’ materials appear to give damage reduction to fire and mana absorption.”

[Prismatite provides the bonus to Mystical attacks,] Grotto chimed in. [In armor it will provide reduction against Mystical damage types.]

“Do you… have a list of exotic materials you’ve been hiding?” I asked.

[I have experience with a variety of crafting materials your incipient civilization has yet to discover.]

“Are you open to sharing? And/or is there a reason you haven’t said anything about this before?”

[It has not been relevant. The materials available to you have been sufficient for your levels and your fledgling capabilities were inadequate for their discovery of production.]

“Hmm. We were inadequate. Could we find or make more Prismatite now?”

[I likely have the means of providing some locations that will yield deposits, although they will be areas of significant mana concentration.]

“Which means monsters,” I said. “High-grade?”

[Nothing you could not handle by this point. Perhaps a mana fiend of some capacity would be encountered, but I doubt it would prove challenging to slay.]

“Good to know. If we have the time, we should check that out.”

“What about the Abbantite?” asked Etja. “That ore we got from The Pit?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, pulling some of the ore out. The material was dark and slightly oily. Faint whispers began to fill my head as I held it, so I immediately put it away. “Why does half the shit we find these days feel like it was birthed by some eldritch horror?”

That drew some curious looks, so I took an ore back out to pass around and give everyone a chance to experience the haunting susurration. Nuralie declined her turn to hold the nugget.

[Abbandium can create items that reshape themselves at will. They also provide a modicum of protection from Divine.]

“That sounds awesome,” I said. “We could use more Divine defense, and having transforming weapons is always fun.”

[However, the material also creates a minor connection to an unknown deity that burdens your mind, reducing your Spiritual defense.]

“Ah. Well, never mind.” I tossed the nugget back into my inventory, likely never to be seen again. “Talk about a let-down.”

“It might still be useful,” said Xim. “The Spiritual weakness can be offset somehow.”

“Most mental attacks are Spiritual. I’d rather not get Dominated.” Also, the fewer connections I had to presumably malevolent deities, the better. “Anyway, the wand looks great. Extra damage, plus some splash damage that’ll give you a boost to AoE. The bonus to dodge while you dance is great, but the extra Blessed stacks are a bit out of sync with everything else.”

“I get 2 stacks of Blessed whenever I use Incorporate,” said Etja. “It’s probably another effect added just for me.”

“Blessed has a soft cap equal to your level,” Xim added. “Any stacks you get above that number decay over time, so this is a 60 percent boost to the amount of Blessed Etja can walk around with.”

“We should add maxing everyone’s Blessed stacks to our normal routine,” I said, scratching my beard. “I hardly ever get Blessed, so it’s not something I’ve thought about much.”

I currently had all 10 stacks, 2 of which were from Xim’s heals and the rest from dealing damage to enemies she’d feared. The second effect was a recent addition to her arsenal.

“Most of my Blessed comes from spells that do other things on top,” said Xim. “If I was using Heal, it’d cost 250 mana to max everyone out. Add another 100 if we’re including Shog and Grotto. As soon as we have enough downtime to justify spending that much mana just to get everyone Blessed, let me know. Otherwise, it’s more efficient to let them accrue during combat.”

“Point taken,” I said. “Those stacks can mean the difference between life and death, though. It’s worth considering cheaper ways to generate them.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Xim. “Are we done talking about Etja’s wand?”

I looked at Etja, who shrugged.

“For the moment, sure,” I said.

“Then feast your eyes!” said Xim, a look of pure excitement coming over her. She held out her hand, showing off a dark bone sitting on her palm, about the size of a pork rib.

Wraithclaw’s Relic of the Descent

Requirements: Xim Xor'Drel, Escalated Delver

Effects:

1) Your weapon attacks absorb 5 mana from the target.

2) +10 fire DR

3) Your skills that impose the Fear status are 25% cheaper.

4) Your transformations last twice as long. If they are sustained, they instead cost half as much to sustain.

5) With 3 seconds of concentration, you can transform into a Wraithclaw, gaining the following effects:

You can use CHA to govern Unarmed attacks. Your Unarmed attacks deal additional Spectral damage equal to your CHA.

Your size category is increased by 1 step. While within 30 feet of a hostile character, you are Unstoppable.

You radiate an aura of fear. Whenever a hostile entity first perceives you in this form, they must make a WIS contest versus your CHA, becoming Feared by you on a failure. Entities Feared by you take additional damage equal to your CHA from all sources.

You can maintain this form for 1 minute, after which you revert to your normal form. This transformation has a cooldown of 6 days but is reduced by 1 day for each evolution you have in Divine Magic.

“That… is a damn good transformation,” I said.

“What’s a Wraithclaw?” asked Etja.

[A vile and horrid demon,] Grotto thought to us. [It is as fierce as it is repulsive to behold.]

“I guess the Fear effect makes sense then,” I said. I toggled the text for Unstoppable and read it aloud. “While Unstoppable you are immune to the Immobilized, Paralyzed, Stunned, and Slowed statuses and cannot be forced to move against your will. You know, I’m starting to feel like I got kind of shafted. My cuirass just gives DR, health regen, and some mana absorption. I didn’t get any crazy bonuses to my skills like everyone else.”

“Oh?” said Xim, leaning toward me. “You’re complaining about overpowered items? Tell you what, I’ll trade this to you for your ring of ‘doubles all health regen even the sources that have no business being doubled and makes most healing pointless because you’ll be back to full health in an hour.’” She raised an eyebrow and held out the bone.

“I’ll pass,” I said, chagrined.

“What does your amulet do again?” asked Nuralie.

“Stuff. And things.”

“Can you imagine having three Immutable items?” Etja asked, looking at Xim.

“It’s beyond my comprehension,” she answered. “But if I did have multiple Immutable items that gave me bonuses to social skills like intimidation and seduction, I’d be sure to make good use of them instead of abandoning Charisma and refusing to wear them for any reason other than how flashy they look.”

“The vest also gives me some stamina refund when I get hurt,” I muttered. “Not that anyone ever remembers that.” I stroked my feather boa. “The boa also increases my renown.”

“Are you trying to make this worse, or better?” asked Xim.

“Do you think that Varrin will gift me an item?” asked Nuralie. “Since I saved his soul, maybe he will get his world-class master blacksmith grandfather to customize some armor for me.”

“Maybe it’ll fly and separate into multiple pieces,” said Etja. “That way you can take it on and off really easy!”

“Okay, I get it!” I said. “I’ve got some good stuff already.”

“I mean, even your hammer is–” Xim began. I pointed a finger at her and cut her off.

“Don’t disrespect the hammer.”

She froze for a second, then started to laugh, followed quickly by Etja. Even Nuralie was chuckling. Eventually, all four of us were trying to keep ourselves contained to avoid waking Varrin, drawing odd looks from Shog and Grotto. Once we’d recovered, Xim went back to reviewing her (obscenely powerful but not quite unfair compared to my own equipment) relic.

“My subrace makes transformations of the body 50 percent stronger,” she said. “So all of these numbers should get multiplied by 1.5 when I use it.”

“How much bigger is 1 size category?” I asked. “I’ve never seen that language before.”

[A normal Wraithclaw is 12 feet tall with arms that reach nearly to the ground. Its hands are tipped by vicious claws that are each 3 feet in length.]

“Oh yes,” said Xim, cradling the bone like a precious child. “I am looking forward to this.”

“Do you stick in your pocket, or…” I trailed off, uncertain what class of item a relic was.

“I was going to give it a lovely bow and braid it into my hair,” Xim replied. She looked me dead in the eye, as though daring me to challenge her fashion choice.

“I think… that’ll look really nice,” I said carefully.

“Damn right it will,” she said with a nod.

There was a groan from behind me, and I turned to find Varrin sitting up. He rubbed his eyes, then pulled his hand away and looked at the ointment-covered appendage. He glanced at his mostly naked body for a second, then over at the group.

“I will assume there was a good reason for this,” he said, gesturing over his slick form. “And then I will never think on it again.”

Varrin produced a towel and began wiping himself down, then shared the description of the item he’d received. It was a crafting material, and it was much simpler than everyone else’s.

Corvite Slab

Items made from this material can only be wielded by members of the Ravvenblaq family.

All weaves imbued into an item made from this material are 100% stronger if crafted by a member of the Ravvenblaq family.

“That seems too good,” I said. “Am I crazy?”

“It can only be used once,” said Nuralie. “Would you save it for an item at a higher level,”–pause– “or use it now?”

Before we had a chance to dive into the implications of the slab, the Icon reawoke with a yawn. It stood and stretched like a giant cat.

“Ah, good. Everyone is awake,” it said. “Please leave now.”

“I was wondering if I could ask some questions,” I said.

“No,” it answered. Then it shifted to one side and held out a paw toward the portal, ushering us to leave.

“That’s disappointing. But sure.”

“Giving up that easily?” asked Xim.

“Do you want to make the giant Grade 30 cat-dog-crocodile-bird person angry?”

“Eh, maybe it wouldn’t be the greatest idea.”

Before we left I felt something tickling at the back of my brain, like there was something we should have been paying more attention to but weren’t. I asked, but no one else shared the feeling. Etja made a few comments, but it didn’t seem like they were important. I had some difficulty parsing what she was trying to explain, but the Icon began prodding at our backs with pointy claws to hurry us along. Etja seemed worried when we started through the portal, but eventually followed us as the last one through.

We appeared in a round chamber the size of a skating rink. The sky above us was a clear view of the planet, but a careful look revealed it to be an illusion, which I took to mean we were still underground. The space was filled with plants and a few short, squat trees with prickly fruit like we’d found in the Basilica. The floor was a checkerboard tile of black and white, perfectly polished and pristine. The low marble walls were covered in gold, jewels, and paintings depicting Deijin in various scenes taken from Eschen religious texts.

On either side of the room stood a rigid line of 7 Doomed Aspirants, as varied in shape and equipment as the rest, all staring forward without seeming to notice us. At the center of the room, in the middle of a clearing, stood a 15th Aspirant. Its body was covered in heavy armor in addition to its carapace, and it carried a hefty round shield, with a longsword sheathed at its hip. This one watched us with penetrating, human eyes.

Beside the center Aspirant, sitting on an aggressively fluffy couch, was a gorgeous woman with dark skin and black hair woven with threads of green and gold. She had her bare feet propped on an ottoman and looked up at us from a book she’d been reading.

Her soul shone like a perfectly cut emerald, the halo swelling to fill the entire chamber.

“Hello!” she said, waving. “Welcome to the center of Deijin’s Descent.”

She marked her page with a tassel and set the book aside, then stood and smoothed down the front of her black and gold dress. She was several feet taller than the Aspirant beside her, who continued to watch us but kept its blade stowed.

The woman walked forward, her every step bringing into focus how beautiful she was. Her features were beyond exquisite, her countenance a symphony that pulled at my heart, her figure a stunning sunset upon eyes that had never beheld the sky.

The shadow she cast was of a creature with a thousand arms, a thousand grasping hands reaching out toward us.

She stopped a few yards away and plucked at the side of her dress, the skin of her bare arms and neck flawless, the movement of each muscle beneath evocative of sensuality and comfort. She gave us a simple curtsy and smiled, her perfect teeth as white as the floor tile, then introduced herself.

“You may call me Avarice.”