We returned to the Enclave through a portal that the Guardian created, the Vanquisher leading us; the Guardian assured us that she would be safe now, as she was little use to the Alchemist, and that more caretakers would arrive and repair her damaged temple.
Vale had to make her report to the Grand Regent, so Malia and I tracked down the vanquisher that had told us about the Sturmbeorn smithing camp. He was quite happy to receive the schematics, and would have the engineers look at them right away to determine what the beasts were doing with them, and where they might have come from. He gave us a voucher for the local tailor, and we were crafted some new pieces of armour in exchange for our work.
We paused in this chaos to share a fine meal, followed by the briefest of rests now that we were within the safety of the Enclave once more. We both slept like the dead, at least, like they did before all this started.
Unfortunately, all was not well within the Enclave.
Malia and I again met with the Vanquisher a few hours later, and she informed us that the sickness that had developed amongst those exposed to the Alchemist was spreading, quickly moving northward. The Grand Regent had already left for the Watchweald, and Vale suspected he would seal the gates...which would potentially turn the entire area around it into one giant quarantine zone.
Vale had to finish preparations, and asked us to go on ahead and catch up to the Grand Regent, if we could.
And so, with very little rest, we again left the Enclave.
The story of Torchlight II, told through the eyes of Anezka, an Embermage. Obviously, this contains story spoilers!
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Within the Wellspring
We found the smithing camp the vanquisher had spoken of. It was swarming with powerful Sturmbeorn and their lesser compatriots, and it took some time to eliminate them, even with Malia pulling out all of the power she could muster. Once they were dead, it was easy to find the schematics they were using, however neither of us could read the writing on them. I assume they're stolen from Zeryphesh, or somewhere beyond, but I'm not worldly enough to be completely sure.
The Temple was crawling with Sturmbeorn, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not they were allied with the Alchemists, or just convenient pawns in his little game. The vanquisher had said that they were arriving in the Steppes in greater number, but I don't think all of his scouts made it back to report their true numbers.
The Estherians who were laid to rest, generations of caretakers to the Guardian, were no longer at peace, attacking both Sturmbeorn and their fellows alike. I doubt those we defeated will be at rest for long, unless we manage to stop the Alchemist from corrupting the Guardian or destroying her. We made as much haste as we could through the Temple, appalled by how much damage had been done in such a short time.
We were too late.
And, I was right.
The vanquisher contingent was dead, their bodies littering the grand hall that the Guardian called home. We could see the Guardian of Water and the Vanquisher, Commander Vale, trapped on a small platform; it looked like Vale might be injured.
Before we could get close enough to speak with them, the largest Sturmbeorn I'd yet seen leapt over the ledge, unseen from where we were in the main part of the hall. Soon after we engaged him, Sturmbeorn warriors began pouring out from their hiding places; Malia began dealing with the new arrivals, while I focused on taking out this nightmare of a beast. Once the warriors were down, Malia rejoined the fight, and eventually managed to rip the creature's throat out, felling the giant.
Vale informed us that she was uninjured, but that the Alchemist had left some sort of binding spell on her that shattered with the Sturmbeorn's death. She informed us that he was known as General Grell, and it was clear their incursion was part of the Alchemist's plan.
Unfortunately, the Alchemist had managed to subdue the Guardian just as Vale arrived. Grell and his guards slaughtered the vanquishers, but left Vale alive; they have a past, if the tales are true, and he may have been unable to kill her, even in his madness.
The Guardian told us that the Alchemist had siphoned off much of her power, but not enough to injure or kill her. He believed that by imbuing Ordrak's heart with more power, he could cure his Ember Blight...by destroying all Ember everywhere, thus destroying magic.
I was having none of this, and neither was Malia.
The Temple was crawling with Sturmbeorn, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not they were allied with the Alchemists, or just convenient pawns in his little game. The vanquisher had said that they were arriving in the Steppes in greater number, but I don't think all of his scouts made it back to report their true numbers.
The Estherians who were laid to rest, generations of caretakers to the Guardian, were no longer at peace, attacking both Sturmbeorn and their fellows alike. I doubt those we defeated will be at rest for long, unless we manage to stop the Alchemist from corrupting the Guardian or destroying her. We made as much haste as we could through the Temple, appalled by how much damage had been done in such a short time.
We were too late.
And, I was right.
The vanquisher contingent was dead, their bodies littering the grand hall that the Guardian called home. We could see the Guardian of Water and the Vanquisher, Commander Vale, trapped on a small platform; it looked like Vale might be injured.
Before we could get close enough to speak with them, the largest Sturmbeorn I'd yet seen leapt over the ledge, unseen from where we were in the main part of the hall. Soon after we engaged him, Sturmbeorn warriors began pouring out from their hiding places; Malia began dealing with the new arrivals, while I focused on taking out this nightmare of a beast. Once the warriors were down, Malia rejoined the fight, and eventually managed to rip the creature's throat out, felling the giant.
Vale informed us that she was uninjured, but that the Alchemist had left some sort of binding spell on her that shattered with the Sturmbeorn's death. She informed us that he was known as General Grell, and it was clear their incursion was part of the Alchemist's plan.
Unfortunately, the Alchemist had managed to subdue the Guardian just as Vale arrived. Grell and his guards slaughtered the vanquishers, but left Vale alive; they have a past, if the tales are true, and he may have been unable to kill her, even in his madness.
The Guardian told us that the Alchemist had siphoned off much of her power, but not enough to injure or kill her. He believed that by imbuing Ordrak's heart with more power, he could cure his Ember Blight...by destroying all Ember everywhere, thus destroying magic.
I was having none of this, and neither was Malia.
The Fisherman's Lantern
We left the shady character with his Rosamortis, his promises of deals on his exotic wares ringing in our ears as we retreated across the Steppes. There were dense areas of Sturmbeorn once we left the Skull Hollow, more than I had even seen in books and pictures; we had to fight, frequently, and were allotted little time to rest or recover.
Several hours later, we came upon a dock with a strange lantern. It was well passed dark, and there was a faint aura of magic about it. Both Malia and I felt that it was benign, whatever it was, so I sent a spark into the housing. Within minutes, a ghostly boat appeared with an equally ghostly Estherian; once the boat stopped, the Estherian spirit moved out onto the dock, as if he were still alive.
He introduced himself as Owlin, a lost soul who had been betrayed by those he travelled with long ago. They drowned him long ago, and he has been trapped reliving his end for over one hundred years. After a few minutes of conversation, I realised the poor man had fallen in with pirates, and was not aware of such until it was too late.
We offered to assist his crossing into the afterlife, and he created a portal to the cove where these pirates had escaped to after murdering him. He spoke of their captain, a man with one eye, and stated that it was he who made the decision to drown Owlin; perhaps if he were sent into the afterlife, Owlin could finally make it there himself.
The cove was hidden inside of a cave, though we're still unsure about whether or not one could escape by water anymore; one hundred years had passed after all, and it seemed that the pirates didn't leave again after a few years. There were undead pirates all over, along with the bleak souls of their last victims, and a number of unruly crabs. Malia suspected they received cursed treasure at some point, and their greed bound them to this realm rather than allowing them to pass on.
Several of the 'officers' of the crew were reconisable. The undead pirates flocked to them, as the lesser undead flocked to the greater in the two tombs we'd been through. We met the boatswain first, then the quartermaster, then the first-mate, and finally we arrived at the remains of a ship. Before we could even set foot on the gangplank, a monstrous skeleton that was more spirit than bone flew up from beneath the deck, one eye covered by the remains of an eyepatch.
After several minutes, he dissipated into oblivion. Malia advised leaving all the treasure we found behind, unsure of which pieces were cursed, if there was a curse at all. Empty-handed, we returned to the portal Owlin had made for us.
Owlin thanked us before fading into the mists, and the lantern went dark, leaving us alone with the river and the night sky.
Several hours later, we came upon a dock with a strange lantern. It was well passed dark, and there was a faint aura of magic about it. Both Malia and I felt that it was benign, whatever it was, so I sent a spark into the housing. Within minutes, a ghostly boat appeared with an equally ghostly Estherian; once the boat stopped, the Estherian spirit moved out onto the dock, as if he were still alive.
He introduced himself as Owlin, a lost soul who had been betrayed by those he travelled with long ago. They drowned him long ago, and he has been trapped reliving his end for over one hundred years. After a few minutes of conversation, I realised the poor man had fallen in with pirates, and was not aware of such until it was too late.
We offered to assist his crossing into the afterlife, and he created a portal to the cove where these pirates had escaped to after murdering him. He spoke of their captain, a man with one eye, and stated that it was he who made the decision to drown Owlin; perhaps if he were sent into the afterlife, Owlin could finally make it there himself.
The cove was hidden inside of a cave, though we're still unsure about whether or not one could escape by water anymore; one hundred years had passed after all, and it seemed that the pirates didn't leave again after a few years. There were undead pirates all over, along with the bleak souls of their last victims, and a number of unruly crabs. Malia suspected they received cursed treasure at some point, and their greed bound them to this realm rather than allowing them to pass on.
Several of the 'officers' of the crew were reconisable. The undead pirates flocked to them, as the lesser undead flocked to the greater in the two tombs we'd been through. We met the boatswain first, then the quartermaster, then the first-mate, and finally we arrived at the remains of a ship. Before we could even set foot on the gangplank, a monstrous skeleton that was more spirit than bone flew up from beneath the deck, one eye covered by the remains of an eyepatch.
After several minutes, he dissipated into oblivion. Malia advised leaving all the treasure we found behind, unsure of which pieces were cursed, if there was a curse at all. Empty-handed, we returned to the portal Owlin had made for us.
Owlin thanked us before fading into the mists, and the lantern went dark, leaving us alone with the river and the night sky.
Bring Out Your Dead
We were transported to Skull Hollow, and within a few yards, we came face to face with a rather shady character. He claimed to deal in exotic weapons and armour, and that he would be able to cut us a number of deals on such things if we helped him out; he was, after all, a merchant and not suited for dealing with the kind of creatures wandering the Temple Steppes.
He had a keen interest in the Bone Gallery, claiming there was something called the Rosamortis within. He was rather evasive about what it actually was, but was entirely forthcoming in describing the monstrosities that were guarding the thing. The tomb itself was sealed magically, and could only be opened by the spirits of the Estherians who were buried in the graveyard surrounding the tomb. Not the undead, which there were plenty, but actual spirits.
We agreed to look into it, if we could find a spirit to follow through the gate. Malia suggested mourning at the sarcophagus that was nearby, and so we made our way over and bowed our heads in respect.
Suddenly, undead began clawing their way out of the ground. Despite the shady character still watching, Malia slipped her robes and began fighting claw and tail against the small horde as I rained down fire and brimstone upon them. They started out weak, brittle skeletons, but soon they became stronger, fallen warriors and mages, until a mighty undead general appeared. Once he was dispatched, an Estherian shade rose up from the sarcophagus, and began walking toward the gate; naturally, we grabbed Malia's robes and followed.
This tomb was much like the last, except with far less undead Sturmbeorn. Those who were powerful in life were powerful in undeath, and those who were not followed them. The corruption that was saturating the lands had twisted them into even more monstrous beings, and we had to fight our way through them, claw and flame.
Although we had thought the shady character was elaborating upon the truths of the undead that actually possessed the Rosamortis. He was not.
The Rosamortis was actually being held by a skeleton, seated upon a golden throne. When we tried to take it, two skeletal generals to either side of him came to life, and while we were fighting them, a hideous undead amalgamation crawled up through the well in the centre of the room. He was massive, stitched together from the strongest, most massive undead possible, towering over us the way the fallen Guardian had.
Malia threw herself into the fight, only to find that he was resistant to her poisons, and her claws did not tear his thick flesh as well as she'd like. I kept a constant storm of fire raging upon him, smouldering him at first, but soon he caught flame and Malia backed off, fending the lesser undead off while I tried to topple the giant. Finally, he fell, a burning heap of disgusting flesh.
It was tiring, but we had the Rosamortis now, and could escape the Bone Gallery.
He had a keen interest in the Bone Gallery, claiming there was something called the Rosamortis within. He was rather evasive about what it actually was, but was entirely forthcoming in describing the monstrosities that were guarding the thing. The tomb itself was sealed magically, and could only be opened by the spirits of the Estherians who were buried in the graveyard surrounding the tomb. Not the undead, which there were plenty, but actual spirits.
We agreed to look into it, if we could find a spirit to follow through the gate. Malia suggested mourning at the sarcophagus that was nearby, and so we made our way over and bowed our heads in respect.
Suddenly, undead began clawing their way out of the ground. Despite the shady character still watching, Malia slipped her robes and began fighting claw and tail against the small horde as I rained down fire and brimstone upon them. They started out weak, brittle skeletons, but soon they became stronger, fallen warriors and mages, until a mighty undead general appeared. Once he was dispatched, an Estherian shade rose up from the sarcophagus, and began walking toward the gate; naturally, we grabbed Malia's robes and followed.
This tomb was much like the last, except with far less undead Sturmbeorn. Those who were powerful in life were powerful in undeath, and those who were not followed them. The corruption that was saturating the lands had twisted them into even more monstrous beings, and we had to fight our way through them, claw and flame.
Although we had thought the shady character was elaborating upon the truths of the undead that actually possessed the Rosamortis. He was not.
The Rosamortis was actually being held by a skeleton, seated upon a golden throne. When we tried to take it, two skeletal generals to either side of him came to life, and while we were fighting them, a hideous undead amalgamation crawled up through the well in the centre of the room. He was massive, stitched together from the strongest, most massive undead possible, towering over us the way the fallen Guardian had.
Malia threw herself into the fight, only to find that he was resistant to her poisons, and her claws did not tear his thick flesh as well as she'd like. I kept a constant storm of fire raging upon him, smouldering him at first, but soon he caught flame and Malia backed off, fending the lesser undead off while I tried to topple the giant. Finally, he fell, a burning heap of disgusting flesh.
It was tiring, but we had the Rosamortis now, and could escape the Bone Gallery.
The Phase Beast's Maze
The Temple Steppes were overrun with powerful Sturmbeorn, corruption causing them to become even more massive and aggressive than before. Packs of them wandered all over the place, and between these foreigners and the undead, Malia and I were engaged in combat more often than not. Everything seemed to be twisted by the Alchemist's passing, though perhaps something deeper was at work here; Malia had said this was coming for some time.
Not long after we left the pass into this part of the Steppes, we encountered a phase beast. It was easy enough to defeat, largely because it kept trying to get away. Once it fell, a portal opened before us, and after a few minutes discussion, we decided to enter the portal.
We found ourselves upon an island that had a crumbling stone pier reaching out into a vast body of water. When we approached it, more worn stones rose up out of the water; the further we walked, the more stones appeared, though sometimes they changed direction on us. Malia decided that this place was a puzzle, a maze of some sort, and took the lead.
After a bit of trial and error, we found ourselves on a second island. There was a large, crumbling fountain on it, and there was some sort of gem that had fallen out of it. It radiated with power, so we took it with us before making our way back to the stone pier. Within a few minutes, Malia had figured out a path to a third island, though it was all just disorienting to me.
Here we found a few statues, one of which had another of the strange gems cupped in it's hands. It was easy enough to remove, and we carefully wrapped it in cloth before putting it in our packs. Even through the fabric, the energy was strong and confusing. Before giving me much time to contemplate it, Malia was off again, blazing trails to the fourth island.
This island was largely empty, so we stopped for a rest and partook of some of the rations the Estherian woman we helped gave us. While the maze was giving me a headache, Malia was quite delighted with it, and wished she had thought of something like this herself; it was a stark reminder that my companion was once one of the devils that haunted the mines of Torchlight. Clearly, she was still something of a sadist.
Once we were finished, the rather giddy Malia lead us along several dizzying paths to a fifth island. Here we found a smaller statue clutching a gem similar to the other we had found, and after a bit of forceful negotiations, we had the second stone. And then she was off again, exploring the maze with rapt fascination and dizzying decisions.
Upon the fifth island, we found a group of lost Sturmbeorn, whom immediately attacked us; they were not much of a challenge, as they had likely been in this strange realm for some time. They barely managed to put up anything one could call a fight. Without even stopping to catch our breath, Malia went right off for the next stone pier, and I was forced to continue following her madness.
After another dizzying round of trial and error, we found ourselves upon what appeared to be the last isle. There were three statues arranged in a semi-circle, all with their hands cupped in such a manner that they could hold one gem perfectly. We set the three gems into place, and there was a blinding flash of light; when we regained our sight, we found an elaborate golden chest amid the statues. It was filled with gold coins, and a pair of Ember specks that were quite useful; as soon as we opened it, a portal appeared.
Taking our chances, we stepped through the portal.
Not long after we left the pass into this part of the Steppes, we encountered a phase beast. It was easy enough to defeat, largely because it kept trying to get away. Once it fell, a portal opened before us, and after a few minutes discussion, we decided to enter the portal.
We found ourselves upon an island that had a crumbling stone pier reaching out into a vast body of water. When we approached it, more worn stones rose up out of the water; the further we walked, the more stones appeared, though sometimes they changed direction on us. Malia decided that this place was a puzzle, a maze of some sort, and took the lead.
After a bit of trial and error, we found ourselves on a second island. There was a large, crumbling fountain on it, and there was some sort of gem that had fallen out of it. It radiated with power, so we took it with us before making our way back to the stone pier. Within a few minutes, Malia had figured out a path to a third island, though it was all just disorienting to me.
Here we found a few statues, one of which had another of the strange gems cupped in it's hands. It was easy enough to remove, and we carefully wrapped it in cloth before putting it in our packs. Even through the fabric, the energy was strong and confusing. Before giving me much time to contemplate it, Malia was off again, blazing trails to the fourth island.
This island was largely empty, so we stopped for a rest and partook of some of the rations the Estherian woman we helped gave us. While the maze was giving me a headache, Malia was quite delighted with it, and wished she had thought of something like this herself; it was a stark reminder that my companion was once one of the devils that haunted the mines of Torchlight. Clearly, she was still something of a sadist.
Once we were finished, the rather giddy Malia lead us along several dizzying paths to a fifth island. Here we found a smaller statue clutching a gem similar to the other we had found, and after a bit of forceful negotiations, we had the second stone. And then she was off again, exploring the maze with rapt fascination and dizzying decisions.
Upon the fifth island, we found a group of lost Sturmbeorn, whom immediately attacked us; they were not much of a challenge, as they had likely been in this strange realm for some time. They barely managed to put up anything one could call a fight. Without even stopping to catch our breath, Malia went right off for the next stone pier, and I was forced to continue following her madness.
After another dizzying round of trial and error, we found ourselves upon what appeared to be the last isle. There were three statues arranged in a semi-circle, all with their hands cupped in such a manner that they could hold one gem perfectly. We set the three gems into place, and there was a blinding flash of light; when we regained our sight, we found an elaborate golden chest amid the statues. It was filled with gold coins, and a pair of Ember specks that were quite useful; as soon as we opened it, a portal appeared.
Taking our chances, we stepped through the portal.
The Path of the Dead
It seems we were not the only ones sent out on a task by the Grand Regent. Upon the Path of the Honoured Dead, we found a woman named Miamin outside of a crypt. She was injured, though not mortally, and was distressed by her failure.
The Grand Regent had sent her to retrieve the Scroll of Anom-Irek, which was within the crypt. However, in the days leading up to the Alchemist's return, the crypt had become corrupted. To make matters worse for Miamin, the Sturmbeorn had already entered the crypt, though they were likely unaware of the scroll's presence there.
We were confident that we could handle a few Sturmbeorn and corrupted undead, so Malia and I made our way into the crypt, leaving Miamin with a few healing potions and bandages. The other undead seemed to be avoiding the tomb, so we felt she was relatively safe as long as she stayed near the crypt.
The undead in the tomb were more powerful than those outside, likely enhanced by whatever was corrupting the tomb itself. Some of them were capable of wielding lightning, while others were incredible fast and able to teleport short distances. Those who were once great in life rose up and became something akin to leaders, with the lesser undead crowding around them, clamouring for their guidance.
While there may have been Sturmbeorn who went into the crypts, none of them were truly alive by the time we go there; they numbered amongst the undead as well, which made their battle prowess even more powerful. They were difficult, however Malia and I finally made our way through the tomb to it's deepest room.
At first, it seemed as though this room was like the many others through which we passed, the undead of the Estherians and the Sturmbeorn shambling about, attacking us as we moved onward, however, we were met with a sight that neither of us expected.
A massive skeleton towered over us, its size comparable to that of the Guardians. It was glowing with corruption, twisted and empowered by the forces that reanimated it. The being slammed its sword into the floor, and ice erupted from it, almost like lightning in it's behaviour. Malia immediately shed her robe and began fighting the thing with her powerful claws and venomous poisons, and I joined her with my flames; the battle was draining, but the twisted being finally fell, shattering and fragmenting as the energies controlling it vanished.
The scroll was near-by, in what we could only assume was the coffin of the creature we just destroyed. Miamin was tight lipped about what it was we had faced, and both Malia and myself suspected that she knew more than she was sharing. Still, the Grand Regent would have his scroll, and we had fresh supplies for our efforts, so we moved on toward the Temple.
The Grand Regent had sent her to retrieve the Scroll of Anom-Irek, which was within the crypt. However, in the days leading up to the Alchemist's return, the crypt had become corrupted. To make matters worse for Miamin, the Sturmbeorn had already entered the crypt, though they were likely unaware of the scroll's presence there.
We were confident that we could handle a few Sturmbeorn and corrupted undead, so Malia and I made our way into the crypt, leaving Miamin with a few healing potions and bandages. The other undead seemed to be avoiding the tomb, so we felt she was relatively safe as long as she stayed near the crypt.
The undead in the tomb were more powerful than those outside, likely enhanced by whatever was corrupting the tomb itself. Some of them were capable of wielding lightning, while others were incredible fast and able to teleport short distances. Those who were once great in life rose up and became something akin to leaders, with the lesser undead crowding around them, clamouring for their guidance.
While there may have been Sturmbeorn who went into the crypts, none of them were truly alive by the time we go there; they numbered amongst the undead as well, which made their battle prowess even more powerful. They were difficult, however Malia and I finally made our way through the tomb to it's deepest room.
At first, it seemed as though this room was like the many others through which we passed, the undead of the Estherians and the Sturmbeorn shambling about, attacking us as we moved onward, however, we were met with a sight that neither of us expected.
A massive skeleton towered over us, its size comparable to that of the Guardians. It was glowing with corruption, twisted and empowered by the forces that reanimated it. The being slammed its sword into the floor, and ice erupted from it, almost like lightning in it's behaviour. Malia immediately shed her robe and began fighting the thing with her powerful claws and venomous poisons, and I joined her with my flames; the battle was draining, but the twisted being finally fell, shattering and fragmenting as the energies controlling it vanished.
The scroll was near-by, in what we could only assume was the coffin of the creature we just destroyed. Miamin was tight lipped about what it was we had faced, and both Malia and myself suspected that she knew more than she was sharing. Still, the Grand Regent would have his scroll, and we had fresh supplies for our efforts, so we moved on toward the Temple.
Delivering the Warning
Although it likely doesn't need to be said, I despite ratlins. Every last one of those filthy vermin deserves to meet with an untimely accident. They have utterly infested Echo Pass, and even the Enclave guards were having trouble holding them back. They're a damn plague.
Upon arriving at the Enclave, we discovered that the Vanquisher was not there, and the guards directed us to Eldrayn, the Grand Regent.
We were too late. The Alchemist had already tried to enter the Enclave, although the vanquishers and the Grand Regent were able to keep him from passing through the gates. He instead circled around the Enclave and headed south, into the Temple Steppes with the Vale and a detachment of her vanquishers in pursuit.
Malia agreed with Vale's theory about why the Alchemist was travelling to the Temple. The Guardian of Water made the temple it's home, and the powers of a Guardian were likely tempting to the corrupt Alchemist. According to Malia, he has always been power hungry, despite the fact it destroyed him, and that it wouldn't surprise her if he intended to kill the Guardian for its power. Given that Malia was once enslaved to the same forces that the Alchemist was, I trusted her opinion.
We agreed to investigate, however one of the vanquishers stopped us before we could leave the Enclave. He was concerned about the fact that the Sturmbeorn had ventured into the Estherian Steppes, and even more concerned about the fact they were setting up a smithing encampment near the Enclave. Preliminary guesses pointed to the beast-like men using foreign schematics, and he asked if we might bring them to him, should we happen upon this encampment on our way to the Temple.
I made no promises, and we set out for the Temple.
Upon arriving at the Enclave, we discovered that the Vanquisher was not there, and the guards directed us to Eldrayn, the Grand Regent.
We were too late. The Alchemist had already tried to enter the Enclave, although the vanquishers and the Grand Regent were able to keep him from passing through the gates. He instead circled around the Enclave and headed south, into the Temple Steppes with the Vale and a detachment of her vanquishers in pursuit.
Malia agreed with Vale's theory about why the Alchemist was travelling to the Temple. The Guardian of Water made the temple it's home, and the powers of a Guardian were likely tempting to the corrupt Alchemist. According to Malia, he has always been power hungry, despite the fact it destroyed him, and that it wouldn't surprise her if he intended to kill the Guardian for its power. Given that Malia was once enslaved to the same forces that the Alchemist was, I trusted her opinion.
We agreed to investigate, however one of the vanquishers stopped us before we could leave the Enclave. He was concerned about the fact that the Sturmbeorn had ventured into the Estherian Steppes, and even more concerned about the fact they were setting up a smithing encampment near the Enclave. Preliminary guesses pointed to the beast-like men using foreign schematics, and he asked if we might bring them to him, should we happen upon this encampment on our way to the Temple.
I made no promises, and we set out for the Temple.
Several Years Later...
I thought that relocating to the Estherian Steppes, a stone's throw away from the Enclave, would be safer than trying to rebuild back at Torchlight. For a time, it was a bit more peaceful, though there was the occasional wild animal that decided that tall fences weren't meant to keep them out. For a time, it was nothing that we couldn't handle in our sleep.
Malia was the first to notice that things were changing. She is so much more connected to the Ember than I am, and picks up on the subtlest changes. When she informed me that corruption was drifting towards the Steppes, I didn't understand what she meant, and she really couldn't find the words to explain it better.
When Torchlight went up in flames, the smoke was visible from nearly everywhere, and Malia told me the corruption had arrived. She advised taking what was necessary, and leaving our home before the corruption engulfed the area, so we packed up and headed to the Estherian Enclave.
Neither of us are the kind of folk that can stand being in the Enclave long. Malia has to wear hooded robes and bind her tail up, as many would not take kind to a Dark Acolyte, given they were part of the forces that lay beneath Torchlight. It was not long before we made our way into Echo Pass and down to an obscure little tavern and inn.
Little did we know that trouble was already waiting there for us.
The Destroyer was there, though I almost didn't recognise him. He was warning people that the Alchemist, the man who had betrayed all of Estheria, was coming back, that he was at fault for the destruction of Torchlight. He was preparing an defence force, but needed people to warn the Enclave; while we would have rather stayed to fight, Malia advised delivering the message for him.
And so we made our way back to the Enclave, fighting the whole way there; it seemed that this corruption was drawing the attention of all kinds of unsightly creatures, as it had the first time Estheria was in danger. Even the undead were returning in force.
Malia was the first to notice that things were changing. She is so much more connected to the Ember than I am, and picks up on the subtlest changes. When she informed me that corruption was drifting towards the Steppes, I didn't understand what she meant, and she really couldn't find the words to explain it better.
When Torchlight went up in flames, the smoke was visible from nearly everywhere, and Malia told me the corruption had arrived. She advised taking what was necessary, and leaving our home before the corruption engulfed the area, so we packed up and headed to the Estherian Enclave.
Neither of us are the kind of folk that can stand being in the Enclave long. Malia has to wear hooded robes and bind her tail up, as many would not take kind to a Dark Acolyte, given they were part of the forces that lay beneath Torchlight. It was not long before we made our way into Echo Pass and down to an obscure little tavern and inn.
Little did we know that trouble was already waiting there for us.
The Destroyer was there, though I almost didn't recognise him. He was warning people that the Alchemist, the man who had betrayed all of Estheria, was coming back, that he was at fault for the destruction of Torchlight. He was preparing an defence force, but needed people to warn the Enclave; while we would have rather stayed to fight, Malia advised delivering the message for him.
And so we made our way back to the Enclave, fighting the whole way there; it seemed that this corruption was drawing the attention of all kinds of unsightly creatures, as it had the first time Estheria was in danger. Even the undead were returning in force.
Malia
It was dark when I awoke, staring up at the starlight skies. It took several minutes for me to remember what had happened, and I bolted up into a sitting position, frantically looking around. The tree line was to my left, and I turned to look to my right, towards where the homestead was.
My view was blocked by the woman with blue skin, her glowing eyes casting strange shadows upon her face. She was sitting beside me, watching and waiting, and her presence meant that it was not a nightmare. I did not fall asleep while on patrol. I was not waking up from some horrible dream.
I pushed myself to my feet, and began running towards where my home had stood. Instead of the familiar walls of my house, or the familiar rows of crops stretching out behind it, there was nothing but ash and smouldering timbers. Frantically, I began digging through the rubble, trying to find my family while clinging to the false hope that they were still alive.
Strong, clawed hands pulled me away. I struggled for a moment, turning to attack whoever owned those hands, and found myself face to face with those glowing eyes again. For a moment or two, I pushed against her shoulders, struck at her arms and hands, then finally collapsed against her, crying.
"You do not want to see them," she stated.
It took several minutes to regain the ability to speak. All the while, this strange woman held me in much the same way I held her while she convulsed and suffered.
"This is my fault. If I hadn't gone so far off the patrol path," I started to say.
The woman interrupted me, finishing the sentence for me with a truth I didn't want to hear. "Then you would be dead as well."
I wanted to argue with her, to claim I was a more powerful Embermage than I actually was, but I knew that it would be obvious that I was lying. I couldn't even douse the flames while using every last ounce of power I had, something I was sure she had witnessed.
"You're right," I finally said.
She let go of me, and took a step back, tail swaying gently. She brushed her clawed hands through her hair, pushing it all over her shoulders as she watched me. I was slowly getting used to the way her glowing eyes looked.
"Who are you?" I finally asked.
She paused, and lowered her hands as she spoke. "You may call me Malia. What should I call you?"
There was an odd tone to that question, as if she had left out a word or something. I shrugged it off as some sort of difference in dialects, as I assumed Estherian wasn't her native language.
"Anezka," I replied.
"We are both alone now," she said, cryptically, "and so we shall be alone together."
I paused before saying, "That would mean we weren't alone."
"Precisely."
My view was blocked by the woman with blue skin, her glowing eyes casting strange shadows upon her face. She was sitting beside me, watching and waiting, and her presence meant that it was not a nightmare. I did not fall asleep while on patrol. I was not waking up from some horrible dream.
I pushed myself to my feet, and began running towards where my home had stood. Instead of the familiar walls of my house, or the familiar rows of crops stretching out behind it, there was nothing but ash and smouldering timbers. Frantically, I began digging through the rubble, trying to find my family while clinging to the false hope that they were still alive.
Strong, clawed hands pulled me away. I struggled for a moment, turning to attack whoever owned those hands, and found myself face to face with those glowing eyes again. For a moment or two, I pushed against her shoulders, struck at her arms and hands, then finally collapsed against her, crying.
"You do not want to see them," she stated.
It took several minutes to regain the ability to speak. All the while, this strange woman held me in much the same way I held her while she convulsed and suffered.
"This is my fault. If I hadn't gone so far off the patrol path," I started to say.
The woman interrupted me, finishing the sentence for me with a truth I didn't want to hear. "Then you would be dead as well."
I wanted to argue with her, to claim I was a more powerful Embermage than I actually was, but I knew that it would be obvious that I was lying. I couldn't even douse the flames while using every last ounce of power I had, something I was sure she had witnessed.
"You're right," I finally said.
She let go of me, and took a step back, tail swaying gently. She brushed her clawed hands through her hair, pushing it all over her shoulders as she watched me. I was slowly getting used to the way her glowing eyes looked.
"Who are you?" I finally asked.
She paused, and lowered her hands as she spoke. "You may call me Malia. What should I call you?"
There was an odd tone to that question, as if she had left out a word or something. I shrugged it off as some sort of difference in dialects, as I assumed Estherian wasn't her native language.
"Anezka," I replied.
"We are both alone now," she said, cryptically, "and so we shall be alone together."
I paused before saying, "That would mean we weren't alone."
"Precisely."
The End of the Beginning
Torchlight was overrun with foul monsters, most of them hiding below the town in the mines, however...not all of them stayed there. Alric needed eyes upon the surface, and those eyes often needed overlords to keep watch on them. While some were raiding parties, others were there to gather information, learn all they could, assuring that Ordrak would be resurrected.
At the time, I was unaware of the truth behind the situation in Torchlight. I knew that there were people more powerful than myself that had come to investigate the mines, but I was far to inexperienced to even attempt to assist them; instead, I kept my family's homestead as safe as I possibly could.
You see, we lived on the outskirts of Torchlight at the time. Most of my family had little to no talent with magic, though they were skilled with martial techniques. I was the first in generations to have ember in my veins, the first Embermage in the family for nearly a century. While many of the wild animals and bandits could be defeated through martial prowess, things like the undead did not fall when they were stabbed through the heart. They did, however, burn quite well and it was quite effective in keeping them from rising again later.
We had devised patrol routes along the perimeter of our holdings, and more through the farmlands within them. My father and I would patrol the area while my two brothers tended the farm and my mother did housework; sometimes, I would patrol alone while my father made repairs to machinery or the house itself. It was during one of these lone patrols that I met Malia.
Some strange skeletons had appeared just beyond the border of our stead, sickly green all over, as if they were covered in some sort of moss or decay. They were spread out, searching for something, or so I thought, and I began picking them off one at a time. Each one lead me deeper into the woods, until I came upon a bloody sight that I will not soon forget.
There was a strange woman crumpled at the base of the tree, surrounded by a strange ichor that I slowly realised was her own blood. Her skin was a deep blue, and seemed to be engraved with golden runes of some sort, some of which were violently separated by deep gashes. Long black hair hid most of her face, though I could see a faint glow from beneath its dark strands while long ears cut through the dark mass. She wore little, most of it metallic and more like jewellery than clothing, though it was not spared damage despite being so solid. And...she had a tail, which I found to be the strangest thing about her.
Given her state, and how close the strange undead had been, I assumed she had been attacked and left for dead by the fiends I had just cut down. I rushed to her side, and carefully repositioned her so that the tree provided support for her, leaning her back against it before checking her arms and legs for any breaks. Her injuries seemed to primarily be deep gash wounds, each bleeding steadily. I always carried basic healing potions with me whenever I went out to patrol, and I quickly began trying to poor them down her throat.
After a few vials, she began to cough and sputter, her wounds slowly beginning to mend. She opened her eyes, and I was caught by surprise when they just...glowed. There was no definition to them in the way humans or even Zeraphi had beyond having eyelids and lashes. She stared at me in as much surprise as I stared at her.
I had no idea what I was dealing with. Perhaps if I had, things would be different today.
Before I could say anything, I felt a surge of energy from the direction of the mines, and she began convulsing. I quickly embraced her, trying to steady her twitching body while pouring more healing potion down her throat. She started speaking, but I couldn't understand the language she was using, however, it was clear that something terrible was happening to her. Her wounds were nearly healed, and yet she still convulsed and twitched, so I just held her tightly until it all passed.
After what seemed like an eternity, she slumped against me and sighed deeply, her eyes closing.
"He is gone," she murmured. "The cause is lost."
I didn't know what she meant exactly, though I would later find out that she was speaking of the destruction of Ordrak. While I had felt it, she must have felt it even more keenly than I, since she was from the Black Palace and a part of Ordrak's following.
There were many minutes of silence before she seemed to focus on her surroundings, looking up at me with an odd expression. She seemed both surprised and intrigued by me, sizing me up while evaluating her situation.
"You saved me," she said, as though it were some sort of strange happening.
"Of course I did," I replied. "I also took care of those skeletons that attacked you."
She blinked several times, and laughed lightly. Somehow, that was very amusing to her, though I wouldn't find out why for some time. She gave me a coy smile, and began to try and stand up. I let her go, and stood up as well.
"I owe you a life debt," she suddenly said. "I will remain by your side until that debt is repaid."
This threw me off-guard, and should have been the first indication that this woman was not natural. People don't generally take things to such an extremely - the last person I'd saved merely thanked me, gave me a bit of coin, and returned to their daily life.
"That's entirely unnecessary," I replied. "Don't worry about it."
We proceeded to argue about it for several minutes before I heard screaming in the distance, back in the direction of the homestead. Without finishing the argument, I turned and ran as fast as my legs would carry me back toward home, channelling fire through my hands in preparation for combat. We had been deep in the forest, and it seemed as though I would never break free of the tangled flora.
Finally, I reached the tree line. I was vaguely aware that the woman was following me, her movements feral yet extremely precise. Terror rushed through me as the homestead came into view.
Our land was largely engulfed in flames. The screaming I had heard was the sound of my family being burned alive; they were still making sounds, but it couldn't be counted as screams.
The fires at my fingertips died, and I began conjuring as much of an ice storm as I could possibly manage, centring it over our house. Snow and shards of ice formed above, melting rapidly as they fell towards the burning roof, but I wasn't powerful enough. I couldn't summon enough ice to stop the flames, despite throwing all of my magical power behind it.
Everything blurred and bled together before suddenly fading into black, the crackling sounds of the flames becoming distant, until their was only silence.
At the time, I was unaware of the truth behind the situation in Torchlight. I knew that there were people more powerful than myself that had come to investigate the mines, but I was far to inexperienced to even attempt to assist them; instead, I kept my family's homestead as safe as I possibly could.
You see, we lived on the outskirts of Torchlight at the time. Most of my family had little to no talent with magic, though they were skilled with martial techniques. I was the first in generations to have ember in my veins, the first Embermage in the family for nearly a century. While many of the wild animals and bandits could be defeated through martial prowess, things like the undead did not fall when they were stabbed through the heart. They did, however, burn quite well and it was quite effective in keeping them from rising again later.
We had devised patrol routes along the perimeter of our holdings, and more through the farmlands within them. My father and I would patrol the area while my two brothers tended the farm and my mother did housework; sometimes, I would patrol alone while my father made repairs to machinery or the house itself. It was during one of these lone patrols that I met Malia.
Some strange skeletons had appeared just beyond the border of our stead, sickly green all over, as if they were covered in some sort of moss or decay. They were spread out, searching for something, or so I thought, and I began picking them off one at a time. Each one lead me deeper into the woods, until I came upon a bloody sight that I will not soon forget.
There was a strange woman crumpled at the base of the tree, surrounded by a strange ichor that I slowly realised was her own blood. Her skin was a deep blue, and seemed to be engraved with golden runes of some sort, some of which were violently separated by deep gashes. Long black hair hid most of her face, though I could see a faint glow from beneath its dark strands while long ears cut through the dark mass. She wore little, most of it metallic and more like jewellery than clothing, though it was not spared damage despite being so solid. And...she had a tail, which I found to be the strangest thing about her.
Given her state, and how close the strange undead had been, I assumed she had been attacked and left for dead by the fiends I had just cut down. I rushed to her side, and carefully repositioned her so that the tree provided support for her, leaning her back against it before checking her arms and legs for any breaks. Her injuries seemed to primarily be deep gash wounds, each bleeding steadily. I always carried basic healing potions with me whenever I went out to patrol, and I quickly began trying to poor them down her throat.
After a few vials, she began to cough and sputter, her wounds slowly beginning to mend. She opened her eyes, and I was caught by surprise when they just...glowed. There was no definition to them in the way humans or even Zeraphi had beyond having eyelids and lashes. She stared at me in as much surprise as I stared at her.
I had no idea what I was dealing with. Perhaps if I had, things would be different today.
Before I could say anything, I felt a surge of energy from the direction of the mines, and she began convulsing. I quickly embraced her, trying to steady her twitching body while pouring more healing potion down her throat. She started speaking, but I couldn't understand the language she was using, however, it was clear that something terrible was happening to her. Her wounds were nearly healed, and yet she still convulsed and twitched, so I just held her tightly until it all passed.
After what seemed like an eternity, she slumped against me and sighed deeply, her eyes closing.
"He is gone," she murmured. "The cause is lost."
I didn't know what she meant exactly, though I would later find out that she was speaking of the destruction of Ordrak. While I had felt it, she must have felt it even more keenly than I, since she was from the Black Palace and a part of Ordrak's following.
There were many minutes of silence before she seemed to focus on her surroundings, looking up at me with an odd expression. She seemed both surprised and intrigued by me, sizing me up while evaluating her situation.
"You saved me," she said, as though it were some sort of strange happening.
"Of course I did," I replied. "I also took care of those skeletons that attacked you."
She blinked several times, and laughed lightly. Somehow, that was very amusing to her, though I wouldn't find out why for some time. She gave me a coy smile, and began to try and stand up. I let her go, and stood up as well.
"I owe you a life debt," she suddenly said. "I will remain by your side until that debt is repaid."
This threw me off-guard, and should have been the first indication that this woman was not natural. People don't generally take things to such an extremely - the last person I'd saved merely thanked me, gave me a bit of coin, and returned to their daily life.
"That's entirely unnecessary," I replied. "Don't worry about it."
We proceeded to argue about it for several minutes before I heard screaming in the distance, back in the direction of the homestead. Without finishing the argument, I turned and ran as fast as my legs would carry me back toward home, channelling fire through my hands in preparation for combat. We had been deep in the forest, and it seemed as though I would never break free of the tangled flora.
Finally, I reached the tree line. I was vaguely aware that the woman was following me, her movements feral yet extremely precise. Terror rushed through me as the homestead came into view.
Our land was largely engulfed in flames. The screaming I had heard was the sound of my family being burned alive; they were still making sounds, but it couldn't be counted as screams.
The fires at my fingertips died, and I began conjuring as much of an ice storm as I could possibly manage, centring it over our house. Snow and shards of ice formed above, melting rapidly as they fell towards the burning roof, but I wasn't powerful enough. I couldn't summon enough ice to stop the flames, despite throwing all of my magical power behind it.
Everything blurred and bled together before suddenly fading into black, the crackling sounds of the flames becoming distant, until their was only silence.
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