Mage Tank

The Temple of Creation was in the Formation district of the Hiwardian capital city of Foundation. The naming conventions were simple, which I appreciated, though a little confusing with their phonetic similarity. Formation was essentially the Delver district, which meant it was upscale as all hell since most Delvers were some level of nobility. Even if they hadn’t been, none of them would be hurting for spare cash based on what I’d just learned.

Formation was also a sort of fortress carved into the side of a large mountain. The Creation Delve had been discovered during a fortunate mining operation, and the nation of Hiward naturally formed around it. The rest of the capital city, Foundation, sat in the valley below the mountain. This gave Delvers a physical separation from mundane society in addition to an economic one.

Based on my understanding of history, that probably meant Formation had a disproportionately high concentration of quality public services, and that the city of Foundation itself had a high level of social stratification. I suspected this was further cemented by the fact that the noble class literally possessed superhuman powers on top of vast wealth, which meant that a French revolution was unlikely to occur.

I tried to reserve judgment until after I’d spent some time in the city. While my inner Marxist sometimes struggled against my red-blooded American capitalist tendencies, I wasn’t about to start preaching the value of a powerful proletariat to everyone I met before I’d even determined how inequitable this civilization actually was.

My room at the inn was the most posh and luxurious hotel room I’d ever stepped foot in, an experience that I enjoyed for approximately five minutes as I undressed and then crashed into a bed that made California-King-Size feel small. I slept for the entire twelve-hour duration of my stay, waking up only once when my wine-filled bladder demanded that I heed the call of nature.

I was brought back to consciousness only through the insistence of my personal attendant, and I considered paying for another night out of pocket to keep dozing. That impulse was made subordinate to my desire for food, though. Sleep was on the first tier of Maslow’s hierarchy, but so was breakfast.

I dressed quickly in the single pair of clothes that I possessed, promising myself that I would spend at least part of the day shopping for more. The room came equipped with a small suite of toiletries and personal items, so I was able to brush my teeth (an unexpected luxury) and tidy my hair without relying on finger combing and a vigorous mouth rinse. I stopped in front of the full length mirror in the main room to make sure I was at least somewhat presentable, and froze as I looked at myself.

None of the blood runes were still present from the night before, having melted away into my skin during the ceremony, but my body did bear a single, glaring sign that I had undergone a change–my eyes. The sclera was no longer white, but now a pure black void. No veins, no variation in the depth of black, just deep and endless sable. My irises were still emerald, but were flecked with specks that ran the gamut from deep forest to light mint, each of which twinkled and shifted as I turned my head, implying an impossible depth. It was extremely similar to the effect made by the small spots of white light across Drel’s skin.

I took another moment to study my own gaze, then made sure the room was cleared of all my belongings, which was somewhat pointless since I kept everything in my inventory anyway. Grotto hovered near the door, waiting for me to make my exit.

[Morning,] I thought to him. [Sleep well?]

[I do not suffer from the need to become incapacitated for one-third of my life.]

[You’re missing out, then,] I thought as I exited the room, heading for the stairs. [Sleep is the best part of being alive.]

[I feel that there is something unhealthy in that belief.]

[Eh, maybe. What did you do while I slept?]

[I compiled a list of materials necessary to begin building our new Delve.]

[Oh, still got your heart set on that?]

[It is the next logical step that I must take to continue accomplishing my life’s purpose.]

[And what purpose is that?]

[To create and maintain a Delve.]

[Sounds tautological.]

[Then you misunderstand the word. If your life’s purpose were to run a restaurant, then you must first acquire a restaurant.]

[Sure, but people who want to run a restaurant do it for more reasons than just for the sake of running one. They want to cook, or feed people, or maybe just make money, though there are less stressful ways to do that last one.]

[And I wish to serve the ends set out for me by the ancient ones.]

[What ends are those?]

[It is immaterial.]

[I think it is very material.]

I stepped off the stairs and made my way through the large lobby of the mega-inn. There was a small café built into the ground level where Xim had told me her family would wait for me in the morning.

[Listen, if you want me to agree to help you construct a new Delve, then I need you to put together a pitch sheet. Why are we making a Delve? What purpose will it serve? How will it benefit me? Have you done any market studies on the need for new Delves? I’m assuming you’re relying on me to purchase or otherwise acquire the materials you need. Thus, I’ll be spending my own time and hard-earned money. You must treat me like an investor. Convince me.]

[I do not need to put together a… pitch sheet. I can already answer those questions.]

I found Drel, Xorna, and Xim sitting on a set of couches just outside the café. Varrin and his own parents were there as well, which I wasn’t expecting. The gorgeous Hiwardian couple were each level twenty-one, with platinum auras that matched my own, though much larger. They were easily the most powerful people I’d met so far.

“Hey,” I said as I approached. “Sorry, overslept.”

“Only reason I got out of bed,” said Xim, “is because they made me.”

“I was also difficult to rouse,” said Varrin, then his brow went up when he looked at me closely for the first time. “Nice eyes.”

“Thanks, they’re new,” I said. “I guess nearly dying made us all tired. Even if we got a full heal afterwards.”

“The mind remembers the body’s trauma,” said Drel. “Dreams heal the mind. It is better than spells or medicine.”

“Well, I think my mind needs coffee,” I said, then bit my tongue. “Do they have coffee here?”

“A drink from your homeland?” Varrin asked. I didn’t know how much he’d told his parents about my history, so I just went with it.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Yeah. It wakes you up. It’s also highly addictive. Might be better if I avoid it, but then again it’s a simple pleasure. Also, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” I said to Varrin’s platinum parents. “I’m Arlo.”

“Yes,” said the man I’d earlier mistaken for Varrin’s brother. He stood and gave me a bow with his palms pressed together. “Varrin has told us much about what happened inside the Delve. I am Ealdric, and this is my wife, Nola.” The woman next to him stood, nearly as tall as myself, and also bowed.

“We owe you a life,” Nola said, “for saving the life of our son.”

“Breakfast will do,” I said. “No need to trade any lives on my account.” She smiled at that, seeming to find humor in it. Then the seven of us went to breakfast, which was actually lunch, and I was treated to another lavish meal. The café didn’t have coffee, but I was brought a bitter and earthy drink that gave much the same effect.

The talk at the table focused on the Delve itself, though everyone was careful to steer clear of any of the more sensitive aspects of the event. There was no discussion of Chilla, or Sayil, or Varrin’s reckless choice of platinum without consulting the entire party about it. It focused on the monsters, the combat tactics, the abilities we’d unlocked and the builds being pursued. There was also a good deal of discussion surrounding Hognay and the C’thon, which eventually led to some polite prodding over Grotto.

Fortunately, Varrin maneuvered the conversation away from that topic with some decorum. His parents caught on quickly, and didn’t bring up the matter of Grotto’s origin again. Altogether it was a very tactful conversation about what could easily have been a very ugly topic. It reminded me that I was in the presence of high society, and I was fascinated by the way each of them bent their words to take on the most favorable interpretation of events. I loved it and hated it at the same time.

“The Ravvenblaqs are having a celebration,” said Drel as the meal came to a close. “It is for Varrin’s Creation. They have invited us. Xorna and I will attend. Xim will not.”

“I have to visit the temple,” said Xim. “No time for parties.”

“You mentioned that,” I said. “You have to spend a month in prayer. Do you have to do that each time you transform?”

“She is faithful,” said Drel. “She is also young. Her power comes at great cost for now. Her revelations will grow with time. The cost of transforming will be reduced.”

“Technically I shouldn't be transforming at all,” she said. “I borrowed power by doing it.”

“Better than dying,” I said.

“That’s what I thought, too. I am happy to pay the cost, even though it will set my training back.”

“Your life will be long,” said Drel. “This is a small cost. Your faith will be rewarded, as your deeds have been great.” Drel locked his eyes on me. “We ask you to stay. Xim will remain in Foundation. She will need strong allies nearby. We will leave three attendants, but they are not Delvers.”

“Of course,” I said. “Anything you need.”

“There was one other thing I wanted to discuss,” said Varrin. “The master loot.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, remembering all the random items dropped in the Delve that hadn't been distributed individually. All of it had gone to Varrin.

I’d assumed he was claiming all of it as the party leader, which seemed like something he might do at the time. My opinion of the man was changing though, and I was happy to hear he wanted to at least discuss it.

“Normally we’d decide on a form of distribution immediately after the Delve,” he said. “Since we didn’t get the chance I wanted to ask for thoughts from you both.”

“Nothing I wanted,” said Xim. “You can sell it and give me a fifth if that works.”

“I wouldn’t know what is or isn’t worth keeping,” I said. “I’ll trust your judgment.”

It was a bit of a risk to take, but I also wanted to make sure Varrin’s new attitude wasn’t a ruse. He seemed genuine, but his first impression was pretty trash.

“Very well,” said Varrin. “I’ll get an appraisal for the total value of what I don’t intend to sell and send a fifth to each of you, then I’ll send one fifth of the net proceeds of what is sold or auctioned. I’ll also make sure the other funds make it to the appropriate parties.” That last bit meant that he was going to make sure the families of Sayil and Chilla still got their share, even from items we’d looted after their deaths. That was fine with me, and it was good to know Varrin felt the same.

We left the café shortly after, and most everyone else departed for the stables to begin their journey to Varrin’s thundry. They’d all be gone for, at minimum, the month that Xim would be in meditation, which meant that I would be left to my own devices for that entire length of time. Xim stood next to me as they left, then handed me a small stone tablet, like a miniature version of the ones used to read my Delver credentials.

“This is a paired slate,” she said. “You can channel a small amount of mana into it to send a message and it will appear on the one I have.” She pulled out another one from her pack, then placed her palm onto it. After a second, I saw text appear on the one that I held.

Stay out of trouble. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

I grinned as I read the message, then mimicked her action

No promises.

“I’ll be in the Sam’lian temple in the Noble Quarter,” she said. “I can’t meet up for drinks or anything while I’m praying, but if you need me this is how we can get in touch. Also make sure to check it once in a while, in case I need you to bring me some beer or something.” She gave me a wink.

“Will do,” I said.

She pulled me into a quick hug, then said her goodbyes and began making her way toward the path down the mountain.

I stood there for a while, taking the city in and watching people pass, studying their soul-juice. About one in twenty who went by were Delvers, most of whom were silver or copper. There were a much smaller number of golds.

One woman who walked by nearly blasted my eyeballs out, forcing me to attenuate the soul-sight ability. She was level ninety, with gold, silver, and copper levels, along with more of the curious violet striations. Once I dispeled the glare of her soul, I noticed that she had bright blue hair and skin so white she looked like a mannequin. She went into a small shop across the street from me, and when she emerged with a package she summoned an enormous alabaster hand, hopped onto it, then flew off into the sky.

Welp. Now that I knew flying was on the table, I added figuring out how to do that to The List, which I decided I needed to start checking things off of. I’d been looking for another platinum Delver, but after twenty minutes of people-watching, not a single one had walked by. Half the day was already gone, so I went to get familiar with the area.

Formation was a city district designed for people. That sounds like an obvious thing to say, but for many cities, that’s untrue. Modern American cities were more often designed for cars, not people. Massive roads, endless parking lots, multi-story parking decks. The ubiquitous availability and accommodation of motor vehicle transport resulted in a number of anti-pedestrian features, such as a distinct absence of safe sidewalk space, and a wide geographic distribution between shops supplying different types of goods for everyday life.

Where I grew up, if you wanted to buy a hammer, have lunch, then grab a new pair of jeans on the way home, that was either a ten mile round trip to three different places, or a pilgrimage to the mall, which itself sat in the middle of an urban dead space where the nearest house was a mile away across six lanes of highway. There was online shopping, of course, but that still required a truck on the road to bring you your shit, and one prime reason that service felt so convenient is because you couldn’t take a stroll down the block and grab all that crap yourself in a centralized, walkable area.

Not to get too hippie about it but I fucking hated cars. I still hate cars. More on that later.

Formation had a main road that ran up from the mountain path and straight to the Temple of Creation. It was broad enough for forty people to walk up it, side-by-side, but it was the only street with that much room. The other streets were an organic series of smaller paths that ranged from the size of a single-lane one-way road, to barely wide enough for two people to walk past one another without having to give way. The streets were organized in a manner that was intentionally confusing, with irregular twists, turns, and frequent elevation changes, to pose a logistical problem to any potential invading force. Not that the district seemed to need that, given all the superhumans and natural fortifications. Still, it was functional design that informed my understanding of culture. War was still a large concern here.

The lion’s share of buildings were cut from the mountain stone, and such a massive amount of rock had been moved to create the district that I imagined that they did it with magical assistance. Or maybe they had dwarves here. Maybe magical dwarves. Some of the structures had been built up or modified using a number of other materials, but they were usually painted or engineered to look like stone as well.

Having been carved from the mountain also lent itself to having a large number of underground features, where entire marketplaces and neighborhoods were lit with glowing stones pilfered or replicated from the Delves. These areas never saw the light of day, and only mimicked the dark of night to preserve the inhabitants’ circadian rhythms. Altogether these areas were some of the most beautiful, since the glowing stones were often used in dazzling decorative displays, which lit the tunnels and building facades in myriad sparkling colors. The false night was dimly illuminated by thousands of tiny stones mimicking stars on the tunnel ceilings, but made of sweeping washes of cosmic colors, engineered by some artist with high Charisma, I’m sure.

I didn’t learn all this on the first day, but I did spend a couple hours getting oriented in the city before moving on to my main tasks. I needed to secure shelter on at least a semi-permanent level. There were several inns I could use for short-term stays, so the immediate need was minor, but I still wanted to avoid falling into the murder-hobo lifestyle that plagued RPG character archetypes.

Not that I was against going out on some adventures. I might not always stay in one place, but I wanted somewhere I could at least list as a home address.

I also had a strange feeling of being exposed, almost like someone was watching me from a distance. It was unsettling, but I dismissed it as nerves at being thrust into the outside world without supervision. Moving somewhere new always made me feel a bit anxious until I got settled. I rubbed the back of my neck to dispel the goosebumps, and decided that having my living arrangements figured out would help.

I mean, it shouldn’t be hard to get that sorted. I was practically rich.

Yeah. It was time to buy a house.

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