Part 38: Practice Freedom

Practice Freedom

"To practice death is to practice freedom. A man who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave," Michel de Montaigne, The Complete Essays.








Your first encounter is with a strapping battle alpha. Putting it down requires the combined efforts of most of your creations, which doesn't bode well for your time here. The noises you hear from the tunnels indicate that you should expect more than a lone alpha now and then.



This servant mind was clearly made to live a long time. It's the hardy variety, with a thick skin and a predisposition to sleep as much as possible. Alas, it was poorly made. It is unconscious, probably from lack of nourishment.

You prod it with your finger, but you can't get it to wake up. It probably needs to be fed.

You open one of your jars of nutrients and carefully feed the servant mind. Even after it has eaten, it takes several minutes for it to return to consciousness. It looks up at you sleepily.

"Thank you, Shaper. I am grateful. When the makers of the crypt left, they forgot to feed me extra and my metabolism is not as efficient as it could be. I am Emarshal. I am the greeting mind for this crypt." It speaks slowly and slurs its speech. It clearly wants to get back to sleep.

"What is this place?" you ask.

"This is a crypt." It yawns.

You sigh. "Yes, but for who?"

"For the great Shapers of Sucia Island. The ones who learned and discovered, Danette and Defniel, and the others," Emarshal says.

"What others?"

Emarshal starts to recite along, droning list of names. None of them are familiar. After a few minutes, you make it stop.

"How was this crypt built? Wasn't the island Barred?"

"Yes, but Danette and the others felt a pull to this place all their lives. When their times were coming to an end, they snuck back to make this place. They wanted their final rest to be here, the site of their great work."

That makes sense. For a truly learned Shaper, the only appropriate way to be buried is surrounded by the work of one's life. That is why Shaper crypts almost always contain books of the knowledge the corpse discovered in life. You've already studied at several of these.

However much sense it makes, though, the builders of this crypt were clearly in the wrong. Returning here was a crime against the Shapers and the denizens of Sucia Island and it was all for the ego of a bunch of researchers whose work got the entire landmass Barred.

"Who was Danette?" you ask, keeping your tone neutral. Emarshal isn't at fault, and you doubt that voicing your disapproval would do anything besides make the servant mind more difficult to deal with.

"The great researcher. The creator of the Geneforge. The mistress and director of all learning here." Interesting. Corata claimed he was the Geneforge's creator. Clearly, the old Shapers had as much trouble sharing credit for their work as do the present ones. Some things just don't change.

"Who was Defniel?"

"The teacher, and the administrator. He taught the new Shapers who came to work here, and he looked after the day to day operations of the island." Emarshal nods off for a moment. You poke it, and it wakes up. "It was difficult and thankless work, but it made everything that happened here possible."

You wonder if Defniel would be so eager for that credit if he could see how things turned out here. "I have another question."

Emarshal looks up at you drowsily. "Anything else, Shaper?" It is clearly eager to go back to sleep.

"What sort of traps does this crypt have?" you ask.

"Danette created many guardians for her crypt. She knew that looters would come to take what is secured here. There are creations and, further in, worse."

Well, you're here to loot, and you don't particularly care about Danette's feelings. She's dead, and you're trapped in the mire she's left behind. "Can you deactivate the traps?"

"I am sorry. Danette commanded me to provide information, but not to deactivate the traps."

"Danette told you not to deactivate the traps? So that means that you can deactivate them." If Emarshal has the ability, then all you have to do is convince him to use it.

Emarshal looks nervous. Disobeying the orders of a Shaper is not something servant minds can generally do, even if those orders contradict the orders of an earlier Shaper. "Well, not all the traps. Danette wisely left most things out of my control. But I can turn off some of the pylons. If you want. But I hope you don't."

Of course she did. "Turn them off immediately." Dealing with pylons isn't worth sparing Emarshal some dismay.

Emarshal looks disturbed. It closes its eyes for a moment. "Yes, Shaper. It is done."

You don't like this servant mind very much, but that's hardly its fault. You just have to keep reminding yourself of that. The mind has had no input into the old Shapers violating the Bar and building this monument to themselves.

"That is all," you say.

"Yes, Sha..." It almost immediately falls asleep.

You check the nearby cabinets. Their insides are bare. There isn't even dust.





You head south and locate an old cloakroom. The writing on the walls is illegible, but this must have been some sort of stopping point for visitors. You can't imagine why the Shapers built this -- no one was going to visit their tomb on a Barred island, and even if a visitor had come, they'd have been greeted by hostile creations like the battle alpha.

Geokinesis shrills an alarm. A glaahk approaches from the west, and from the north, something much more dreadful -- a drayk.

More hostile guards.

Pumpinglemma eliminates the first glaahk after a brief exchange. The vlish trio destroys the drayk. A second guardian glaahk appears from the western tunnel and lays into pumpinglemma, but your glaahk holds fast. While your artilas respond with their customary acid, the hostile glaahk shudders and emits some sort of rank belch from its maw; it dissipates without harming your team, but you're sure it's some sort of defensive mechanism you haven't yet seen in glaahks.

Pretty much all of the creations you'll encounter in the Shaper Crypt have some form of extra ability that they can use freely. I don't know if each type has access to something specific, or if all of them can select from the list. Multi-target terror and multi-target poison status are the main two, but drayks can also regenerate health.

The other thing to know about this challenge dungeon is that the foes respawn infinitely. They drop decent money and some valuable equipment. The enemies' high levels makes this dungeon the only viable end-game grinding area, though I think that if you really need to grind to complete this game on normal difficulty, your build is really messed up.

Offscreen, I zone out of this area several times to drop off heavy loot. Solution's low strength means that she can't carry much, and equipped items count against that weight total. Popping in and out is also a more item efficient way of restoring the party. I mostly don't comment on this practice in the narrative, but it's a good trick to use if you're playing along.





You head north, past the servant mind's chamber and through a small opening in the cavern wall that was probably intended to be a doorway.

Almost as soon as you're through, a battle alpha charges into your formation. Another alpha follows. Pumpinglemma hisses, warning of a third. You seem to have walked right into an ambush.

The battle alphas are just as weak to your vlish's terror attacks as their counterparts outside. Maugrim slays the one that made it into your midst while it stands frozen in fear. The others flee, but not before placid saviour and RickVoid coat them in acid.





Two sarcophagi are tucked into this nook. You're about to investigate the book by the nearest one when a glaahk rounds the corner. Maugrim flicks its tail and hisses a challenge.

The hostile glaahk doesn't even leave a mark; you bless your creations, and Maugrim strikes the glaahk down in a single blow.



There's not much time to study what this Shaper left behind, but you do your best to commit their writings to memory.

Another point of Battle Magic? Fabulous!







A strange, high-pitched vibration echoes from the tunnels you've just left. An icy chill shivers down your spine. It's not the same sensation that preceded those spectral Shapers, but it does feel like something trying to intimidate you...

There's a hint of motion around the southern corner, then two glaahks skitter forward, followed by another battle alpha. You're about to direct all your creations to face them when you see a drayk moving in from the north. You've been trapped.



But the trap works both ways. You cast speed on your team. The rapid decrease in reaction time turns them into efficient killing machines.

The battle alpha falls first, unable to resist the magic of your terror vlish. TooMuchAbs turns on the drayk next, seizing control of its senses before it can spit fire on you or your creations. Maugrim puts the drayk down with a punishing slash. Then it's just a matter of taking on the two glaahks.



The nearest charges between RickVoid and placid saviour. Its resilient exoskeleton renders their bites harmless. Another glaahk approaches pumpinglemma, who ignores the challenger for the moment.





Your artilas retreat into the corridor and soften the glaahks up; then the vlish take turns crushing what remains.

Maugrim, ever vigilant, charges north and just out of sight. Two glaahks and a drayk appear -- the first two walk into plain sight, but the drayk you can only identify by the sound of its mindless snarling. No Shaper made these drayks. These are fully feral.

You can feel Maugrim's shock. Whatever exchange is taking place just out of sight isn't going in yours or its favor.



You push your creations north to relieve Maugrim and leave a pile of ruined glaahks in your wake. The drayk flees under the influence of your vlish.



You hole up in a dead-end chamber. One of the sarcophagi has been crushed, but you can't tell by what. The book by the other is intact; whoever was interred here advanced the study of fire creations. Trying to skim these ancient works for easily condensed tips dismays you, but you need whatever advantages you can get.

You take a moment to heal the worst of Maugrim's wounds before moving on.




There's no way to disable these mechanical spawners as far as I know. You might as well come here and loot, though -- I've never seen a creature spawn on-screen here, so it's no more dangerous than the rest of the crypt.



You snag the piles of Shaper equipment on the first workbench you see before daring to go further. The musty air here smells a little sweet like ozone and a little smoky like heated crystal fibers. Unlike much of the rest of the crypt, this area is well-light by the motion-sensing floor lamps.





Maugrim rushes forward and smashes into the first glaahk. A drayk blasts Maugrim with fire so hot that you can feel your eyebrows curl even as far back as you are. Pumpinglemma hurls itself into the fray, but it's too late -- the hostile glaahk exhales foul breath of such concentration that Maugrim starts melting even before it dies, the combination of extensive burns and acid proving too much for your creation.

You would weep, but there is no time, and this, you finally accept, is nothing short of war. There is no space for tears or grief, only the methodical violence necessary to ensure your survival.

The glaahk's acrid breath clings to your skin, slowly eating away, but you're not already compromised by wounds and have time to neutralize it while your creations destroy Maugrim's killers.



If only those were the last guards you'll encounter here. More come for your blood, stretching themselves thin just to get a taste.



Pumpinglemma charges through, passing the first glaahk as it falls to the magic of artilas and vlish.



The drayk retreats, wings dragging along the floor and smearing blood into the ancient tile. Your vlish turn their psychic attacks against a battle alpha. It falls, shattered by the fury of your creations.



You turn south in search of the way you came. You pass one of the deactivated defense pylons and spare a grateful thought for Emarshal and the carelessness of dead Shapers.



There's a single tome in the center of this room; it's too much temptation to pass it up. But you don't get to pause to so much as look at a page before a pair of drayks roar at you from the other end of the chamber.





You have your vlish spread their efforts among the three drayks. Pumpinglemma slays one of the duo, and the third flees thanks to the terror vlish.



A fourth drayk reveals itself and you snap out another speed spell. Your hands shake; you're burning through essence just to keep your creations alive -- at least, most of your creations alive.



Pumpinglemma holds the line while Talow turns back, whip-like, to strike down the drayk sneaking up behind you.



It flees, but another drayk and a glaahk replace it. They don't give you any time or space to breathe. RickVoid and placid saviour do what they do best and you start to think that you might get out of here without losing anyone else.



Pumpinglemma has killed three drayks and yet there's another one here, drooling its lust for intruder flesh. They don't care that you're a Shaper, they only care that you're fresh and made of meat.



You don't know if it dies or flees. Pumpinglemma charges the dying drayk left paralyzed by your vlish's relentless spells and prepares to go at another. The glaahk limps past your artilas, either fleeing slowly or trying to flank pumpinglemma. You can't be sure.



But it dies. They all die.







Even if the defenders won't stop coming, each one that steps up dies.



When one more drayk falls, you recklessly hurl yourself at the pedestal and read, furiously flipping through the pages.


It's a directory. It's useless. How many fools snuck back here? Did the Shapers of old have no shame?



You're forced to slay two more drayks before you go. If only there were a way to destroy the spawners here... but you're exhausted. You turn back.

In Pentil, the news of your defection has finally percolated through the Obeyers.

As you enter, you start to hear quiet muttering. Though all serviles here look at you with awe and fear, there is something else there too. They are very uncomfortable.

As you walk past a pair of guards, you hear one of them whisper to the other, "The Shaper is one of the Awakened. The Shaper is not true. What do we do? Do we obey?" The other guard shakes his head, having no idea.



You sneak back to the dusty, winding road. It's easier than returning to the crypt or remaining in Pentil among the terrified Obeyers. You never found that battle beta, after all. You should do something about that.





The search hits a couple dead ends before you pick up the trail.





The wounded battle beta lunges out of the trees where it has lain in wait for you. Alone, though, it doesn't pose much of a threat. You've dealt with much worse.





Your vlish form a triangle around the beta and torment it with terror. RickVoid finishes off the cowering rogue. You pity it; the beta's creators abandoned it here, heedless of its suffering and the suffering it inflicted on the serviles.

Back at the tinker serviles' home, you approach Flig. "The wounded battle beta is dead."

"Thank you, Shaper. Thank you. Lives better for me and bonded. You are kind to us." She leaves the room for a minute, and then returns.

"There is door back there." Flig points at a corridor to the south. "Would not open. Now will. Good things for you past it."



Your good deed comes with mighty rewards, the best of which is another canister. This one improves your mass energize spell. You collect the crystals and pods and count yourself quite lucky.



Your next order of business is to replenish your ranks once again. Dmar will surely serve you well. You hope you'll be able to keep it safe in kind.

Next time: Part 2