Part 40: Barred

Barred

"To forbid us anything is to make us have a mind for it," Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays.






That last line is no joke.





You locate two more automated shaping platforms in side passages. The smell of soured essence lingers here. You make note of the crystal lattices in the first platform's nook -- they might prove helpful.



The small hairs on the back of your neck rise as you reach the end of the main corridor. The pylon at the intersection flashes threateningly. Emarshal either can't control the defenses here or neglected to shut them down.



But between the efforts of your vlish and your glaahks, the crypt pylon is terrified, stunned, poisoned, and finally shattered.





The crypt pylon's position guards two more side passages with shaping platforms. You haven't encountered any hostile creations since entering the inner crypt, but you don't expect this peace to hold forever.







This passage is clearly not a natural formation. It also has several more pylons for you to prune. Their fragile crystal exteriors are particularly vulnerable to the tremendous forces a glaahk's whiptail brings to bear.





Two cryodrayks peek around the corner, reinforced by another crypt pylon. Geokinesis takes a potshot at one drayk, but you're more concerned about taking out the pylon before it can hit half of your team with searing orbs.



Dmar approaches the pylon and is half-frozen by cryodrayks for its trouble. There are nearly half a dozen cryodrayks waiting here, backed up by more creations you hear rather than see.





With the first pair of cryodrayks down and two more scared off, wedgekree heads north to confront the defenders' remnants. You focus on reinforcing and healing your creations. Dmar managed to take out the pylon, but the glaahk isn't in good shape.





The crypt defenders push past the glaahks and into the corridor, but that mistake leaves them surrounded by your creations.





The battle alphas prove alarmingly resilient. They're perhaps even tougher than the gammas you've fought. Still, their minds are weak -- this is one part of their design which they cannot overcome.



Another squad of battle alphas approaches from the rear, but your creations are still slavering with bloodlust and the alphas fall fast.



You grant yourself a little time to study the book on the far sarcophagus. You think you understand why so many of your spells have cost you so much essence. You let your reflexive resistance to magic hold you back, much like how a neophyte swimmer might resist putting her face underwater.

There are more ambushes in this zone. That's right; the Inner Crypt also has infinite foes. Also, the nutrients you sacrificed to feed Emarshal? Nigh pointless, since he doesn't shut down the pylons in this zone.





Both routes are blocked by radiant panels, but they're only two deep. You haven't seen anything hinting at a control panel, and backtracking invites more encounters. At least the panels will obstruct the guards as much as they obstruct you.

The panels don't deal damage to the enemies. It sucks.



Without shielding spells to mitigate the burns, you're left to rely on shielding spores. You're reluctant to use them now, though -- what if you need to retreat across the tiles while wounded and exhausted? What if there are more such barriers ahead? You don't even have a single shielding pod for yourself, as you left them with your stash.

Turning back means fighting your way out of the crypt. You decide to push on.

The panels scorch your feet so badly that you're crawling by the time you reach the other side. Dmar and the vlish are in better shape, but only just.

You look back at placid saviour and RickVoid. If you order them to cross... you don't know if they'll survive. All you can do is order them to stay on the other side, tucked against the panels and hopefully out of sight of any more wandering patrols. For extra assurance, you bid wedgekree to guard them.

Then you crush a handful of pods and release your held breath as blackened flesh sloughs away to reveal new, pink skin, devoid of flaws or scars. You extend your healing craft to your creations, too, soothing blisters and scorched tissue.



It's with a little frustration that you find this tiny workroom filled with blue and green lattices. You crush the green ones gratefully anyway, and the blue ensures that no one endures anything worse than a slight sunburn.



Not all of the books have survived, but you happily spend some time with the one here that has. You also shamelessly slide the lids off these sarcophagi and rifle through the remains of the goods left for these seditious Shapers.

You're inspecting a belt when you hear the tortured wheeze of one of your artilas.



Yes, you're seeing that right -- there's an ur-glaahk here.



You decide to circle back to the south and cross the second set of radiant panels to reinforce your artilas. Wedgekree is strong, so your support may not be necessary, but you want to at least see what's happening to get a handle on the situation.

As you follow the hall back towards where you guess the second set of panels is, you hear a resonant growl. Massive footsteps make the floor lamps flicker. You venture closer to the noise and look north, and then take an instinctive step back.





You split your team again, sending TooMuchAbs and Dmar south to seek the creations you left behind. The rest stay to put down the massive battle creature that's hunted you down.



It's not long before the sounds of another clash reach your ears, but there's nothing you can do -- you're too busy directing your vlish against the massive guard. It's that or let it chase you into the radiant panels, which would certainly seal your doom.



Placid saviour is badly injured, but you can't get a clear sense of what's happening. All you feel is the dying artila's echo in your mind, like the aura of a migraine about to strike.



The battle creation is too powerful. Geokinesis and Talow seem helpless to slow it, and the defenses you can throw up aren't enough to keep it from pounding you until you taste blood. You're forced to withdraw south, coming closer and closer to the fire wall that will surely end you.

Your tether to placid saviour snaps, but you're able to draw RickVoid and wedgekree to you. Somehow, whether it's blind luck or an unimagined well of resilience, the artila survives crossing the panel. It certainly wouldn't have survived another round of whatever was going on before.



You throw down all the goods you've been carrying in an effort to free yourself for swifter spellcasting. A burst of speed helps -- the vlish are merciless in their assault on the battle guard, and soon its roars dwindle to whimpers.

While your creations hold off the beast, you dash to the panels and call for placid saviour. You must be close to your patient for the healing magic to work, but perhaps the other side of the panels will be within your reach.



The battle guard is paralyzed by fear, leaving it open for a series of crushing blows from Dmar. Wedgekree follows you and you work your craft on it while calling out to placid saviour. You feel it dimly, but the artila doesn't heed you...



The desperate efforts of your creations at last pay off. The battle guard crashes to the tiles, sending coals spraying from the nearby braziers and shaking dust free from the ceiling.

Corata's Guardian is no joke. I also am not sure why it wandered down to greet the party before Solution set foot in that corridor.



Placid saviour finally responds. You coax it to the edge of the panels and try to heal it, but you're just not close enough. You chant the artila's name softly, projecting as much comfort as you can. If only it would slither nearer!

After a few breathless moments, placid saviour tenses up and undulates onto the first panel. It's still not near enough. You fumble in your pack for a bag of potent healing spores, but placid saviour, now prodded by agony, is too fast -- it doesn't wait for the medicated spores, it cannot know what you're trying, and instead flings itself onto the edge of the second panel, is overcome by the red-hot stones, and succumbs.

You cover your face with your hands, pressing the empty bag of spores against your right eye, and take a deep breath. You already steeled yourself for this.

It's time to move on.



The sarcophagus here has the work of a Shaper skilled in the healing arts. Though you learn a better means of focusing your healing spells, you're almost relieved that you don't find anything on how to heal a creature from a greater distance.








Knowing these are Corata's true remains that you're disturbing, you pilfer a sword and shield with almost savage glee.





Another massive battle creation -- perhaps a gamma, though it looks different from those you've already fought -- blocks your advance through the tunnels. This one is not as grand as the battle guard you barely managed to defeat, though, and it falls much more quickly to your vlish's influence.





Geokinesis, TooMuchAbs, and Talow focus on keeping the strange battle betas out of the fight while you come up with a way to deal with this shade. It seems different from the other human shades you've encountered so far, but its presence accounts for the seeping cold that somehow overpowers the radiant panels.



The spirit is easily separated from its guards.



Just in case, you send Wedgekree to pin down the remaining battle beta, while Dmar faces off against the spirit. RickVoid tests the spirit's resistance to acid and finds it wanting, but the next few moments demonstrate that acid isn't enough to wear these beings down.



Wedgekree wipes out the battle beta, who only lands one hit before wedgekree separates its head from its shoulders.

Now the spirit is surrounded.







TooMuchAbs takes the deciding shot, and the shade flickers away to nothingness, dropping a mere handful of items it somehow used in unlife.


You laugh a bit at the last. Perhaps that shade was meant to mimic Danette, much as something of Corata remained at South Workshop. You doubt they got along in life. How it would burn Corata to know that he merited a final resting place smaller than Danette's.

The old Shapers clearly knew that Corata had returned and that something had gone dreadfully wrong in that workshop, but they either did nothing to right the situation, or simply gave up and half-heartedly sealed the place.

Danette's stone slab hides only a few bone shards. More alluring are the canisters arrayed behind the sarcophagus, standing like trophies beneath the faded Shaper banners.

We've won a bonus to each base stat!



Leaving proves difficult. A knot of defenders blocks your path, and from further south, you hear a low, rumbling growl that penetrates the living rock around you.



When the last defender falls, Dmar leads the way to another chamber, wherein waits a massive specimen of cryodrayk mastery.



It's no match for Dmar, even with additional cryodrayks coming to its aid. Wedgekree is struck by one drayk's icy blast and wavers, but keeps its station by a hidden crypt pylon.





The pylon is more durable than the others you've busted in the crypts and stymies your glaahks.

A battle gamma, pulsing with magical power, joins the cryodrayks as the pylon burns your vanguard.

You must get your vlish out there, but the bottleneck of the corridor is slowing them down.



At last, the pylon explodes into harmless mist and you pull wedgekree back.



One cryodrayk flees south, but another battle gamma joins the first and they both pile on Dmar.





Wedgekree takes Dmar's place, and you pull the latter glaahk back. The battle gammas continue to get the best of your glaahks, though, and your vlish only barely manage to grip the gammas' tiny minds.





RickVoid, veteran artila, strikes down the nearest battle gamma. The remaining cryodrayk dies under the withering blasts of vlish magic. Mop up is simple. You exhale, low and slow, to remind yourself how to breathe.





While you patch up your crew, more guards burst in from the south. Lucky for you, they're not in the same league as the creations you just fought.








You find another chamber with three tombs, though two have fared badly and leave nothing to the enterprising tomb raider.

While you investigate the sole surviving sarcophagus, another patrol catches up to you.



The crypt glaahks are of a completely different class than your creations, but the cryodrayks keep proving easier and easier to handle.



The southern corridor is blocked by another square of radiant panels. As you watch, a cryodrayk swiftly crosses it. You neither see nor smell any evidence of burns.



Talow crosses the panels first, seeking more prey.



The defenders are killed or chased out in short order, even though you all take grisly burns in the crossing.

You pause at the books and learn a little more about the school of thought around blessing magic, then begin the slow process of healing up your creations.

Your essence is nearing the critical point, so you're forced to resort to healing spores -- including a bag of particularly potent spores that act as both a quickening agent and a panacea. You're nearly out of any means to heal your team.



Your early crossing turned out to be a strategic mistake. You're forced to cross another set of panels. Once again, you barely survive, and this time it costs you the last of your healing pods.







The fiercest resistance always arrives when you're nearly ready to leave.



No matter.





Even if the Shapers themselves rise from their cold graves, you will crush them all.







Each Shaper is an army unto herself, even such a lowly apprentice as you.





You find another workroom to the south and eagerly crush the lattices to release their essences. As you absorb the power, your anxiety recedes.



The final sarcophagus has a treatise on magic shaping which you peruse eagerly, committing as much as you can to memory before the distant sounds of more guards forces you to go.





You fight your way clear of another massive ambush and flee through the eastern door. You don't stop running until you make it out to the dusty wastes of Diarazad.

Next time: Interlude: Terrible Things