Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Armorplayer's, abcdragon's and sciller's amazingly daft adventure to find all the hidden locations
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How about a nice Stabily-diffused painting to break things up a bit. AI architecture makes no sense. Luckily, neither do the ruins of Port, viewed from somewhere between planes. Here's the album with my attempts.
Chapter 7: The Skirmishers
Hammond and Elder went out the door into a courtyard surrounding the armoury filled with distorted buildings and tents. Rocks floated perfectly still in the air. Colonnades wrapped around the courtyard. A slanted door stood at one end, next to an onion-domed guard tower - the only building in the complex that seemed perfectly normal.
Hammond reached into a leather bag he had brought for the journey, pulled out a small hunk of smushed bread and a small waterskin, and handed them to Elder.
"Sorry about the smush. It happens when you're forcing them with you on trips like these. This weekend, I tell you, we're hosting the biggest banquet in a decade. But a man has to survive on something 'til then."
They climbed up the onion-domed tower and looked upon the city. The roads were delapidated and covered in sand and extended on a diamond grid for miles on three sides. The fourth side was wavy and fortified with thick walls and turrets. It faced the void's army in another plane. The buildings were made of a beige stone and laid dilapidated. Save for the town hall that was under a mile away.
"There", the captain mumbled with his mouth full of bread. He pointed at a pristine building with three domed towers floating above it. "The town hall. Doesn't look like it from here, but trust me, that's it. You get a feel for these things after a while." He swallowed the bread and took a deep gulp from the waterskin.
"We have... an hour and a half before the sun comes down and this all certainly ends. Let's hope it ends sooner."
Hammond went down, but Elder stayed for a moment. He had noticed a crack in the city wall and pitch black smoke rising up from the shadowed streets of Dryport. He stared at it for a while, then went down to the courtyard
The two squeezed through the front gate of the armoury complex and headed into the city ruins, watching their step on the uneven ground, jumping over the holes in the pavement, and clambering over the rubble.
After turning a corner and climbing through a wide window, Elder felt an uneasy presence. He took a few steps toward the center of a room before noticing it was filled with something like a sparse black fog. Hammond cussed something nasty, shouted at Elder to stay back, and drew his sword. A few seconds had passed and the fog had gotten thicker. Eventually a black meaty blob grew out of the aether, covered in a thick, swirling layer of that same black fog that dripped onto the floor like hot pitch.
Hammond promptly raised his sword and slashed the blob. Dark red blood spouted out of the blob. The blob then morphed and fell downwards, stopping a solid foot off the ground. The black fog that once covered it then dissipated and the blob dried out and became a dull pinkish gray. Three other blobs manifested nearby and were promptly dispatched with a fluid set of slashes. All three then dried out as the first. The room was now completely clear of fog.
Hammond grasped the valve on his armour and shifted around. He popped in and out of view a few times and moved about the room. Then, he shifted back into the room.
"It's safe now! Come out!"
Captain Hammond quickly pulled out a cloth and wiped his sword of blood, then returned it into its scabbard. Elder likewise resheathed his
"And there you have it! A fine example of a squad of projections! Though we seem to have caught them off guard... I'm thinking they're skirmishers... Or maybe they're going to the city hall. Maybe they know about the ballista? Maybe they..."
Elder had gotten distracted by the black fluid left behind by the projections. The fog had condensed into little puddles that almost seemed to move. He knelt down to touch the fluid and felt a familiar, icy-cold presence on his fingertips. It slowly spread through his hand, then shot up his arm and into his head. He felt a splitting headache for a split second before the pain waned and he got back up.
"...Whoah! You alright there, Elder? You look like you got smacked in the face."
"Yeah, I'm fine, I just. I felt *its* presence when I touched that black fluid"
Hammond then knelt down and touched it himself. He scooped up a small bit and spread it around in his hands, then rubbed his fingers together.
"Hm... That's... That is weird... You know what? I don't want to think about what this means. Let's just... We keep going. We have one- One potentially-successful plan. Just... Keep an eye out for projections. I feel that we're about to see more."
--------- Notes:
- WOO! Page no. 4! That's all.
- Okay, I experienced a little block here, but I think we're moving smooth now. I may have had a eureka moment, but I'll have to test that one out.
Y'know what? I liked those AI images. Even if the weather's all wrong. I'll put more in there. I always *was* hesitant to read books without pictures.
Chapter 8: An Early Celebration
The two went further into the city, now more wary and light of foot, until finally, they arrived at an empty raised square. Upon it stood a two-man-tall wall surrounding something that used to be a garden, but was now entirely dry save for a small canal that held a pond. Tall, dry fountains stood around the garden. Unlike the rest of the city, this building was mostly intact.
A massive rectangular building stood at the centre of the garden. Collonades lined its sides like a greek temple. But its sides were eroded and yellowed by centuries worth of sandstorms. Three great domed towers floated in the sky above it. You could still see a bit of faded blue paint that had once covered the glistening domes.
"We're here! The city hall. Ah, to have been a gnat on the wall in the glory days... Right." He pointed to the central domed tower which was the widest of the three. "Can't quiiite see it from here, but it should be there. The swan song of a dying God, the very ballista Elder... The older Elder used to fling Za'Lob's head into the other side of the world tree.
Now you certainly can't see it from here, but there's a crane we use to get the ballista from the armoury to city hall and back. Since you don't have a vice, you'll just have to wait here. Guard the door, try to stay hidden, and, er. Maybe think about getting a new name, right? I've got a surprise. A good one. You'll see!"
With that, Hammond ran into the city hall, and Elder was left in front of the city hall door. He leaned back on a pillar, and looked through his equipment. He took off his helmet and tried to polish off a dry bloodstain. He checked through his equipment, ****ed his crossbow, and loaded in a bolt from his quiver. He checked his sword's blade, and banged twice upon his shield. Ayup. That was a shield alright.
He stared towards the city wall and the oncoming darkness. Without the sound of footsteps and laboured breathing, he could hear thunder cracking and booming in the far-away volcano's ash cloud. He was taking a sip from his waterskin as he'd heard clanking on the top of the city hall roof. He grabbed his helmet, put it on, and went into the garden.
He looked up onto the roof and noticed some movement on the top of the central tower. He saw something white and gold and quite large get hoisted up into the air, swing around, then float down slowly. That must've bee-
CLANK!
Elder staggered as something whacked him in the head. He heard something smack into a nearby wall. He bolted behind a fountain and looked towards the wall. An arrow or bolt was sticking out of it. He unslung the crossbow from his shoulder and peeked out. Two spearmen clad in black and red armour were rushing towards him. They wore open-faced helmets, but their faces were hidden under a veil of shadow and their bodies sublimated black vapours. They yelled "CHAAAARGE!" in a distorted, echoing voice.
Elder used the fountain as a makeshift mount for his crossbow, then, surprising even himself, calmly and quickly aimed the crosshair. He shot a bolt which hit the right spearman straight in the eye with a meaty thwack. He collapsed into the ground and his armour screeched as it scraped across the ground.
Elder then reslung his crossbow, unsheathed his sword and raised his shield, holding his stance firmly in a defensive position. The charging spearman, surprised Elder did not break and run, stopped a few feet away from Elder. The spearman nimbly stepped left and right, poking with his spear, trying to find an opening. He then commited to a position, thrust his spear deeply towards Elder, who parried the spear with his shield, grabbed the shaft with his left hand and pulled on the spear.
The spearman, firmly grasping his spear, lost his footing and staggered forwards straight into Elder's sword which Elder firmly thrust below the helmet, from the neck, into the spearman's head. The spearman fell over, and Elder pulled the sword from his neck. He grabbed the spearman's spear, and noticed his face, now unveiled. It looked much like a human face, but with the texture of minced meat, and the skin a disgusting gray-ish colour.
Elder scanned the garden for anyone else. He looked up at the central tower and saw the ballista was gone. He took half a minute to breathe, re****ed his crossbow and loaded another bolt in. He then heard the thrashing of chains and raised his shield, spear in hand, pointed towards the garden entrance.
The noises were sporadic. Once stopping, once chains dragging on the floor, once thrashing again, getting louder, and louder until a three-man-tall crimson red Wyvern, shrouded in a swirling black fog, hopped onto the garden wall. It turned its head toward Elder and screeched. It jumped down into the garden and hunched over, stabilising itself with its clawed wings. It moved its tail which ended in a sharp stinger over its back and thrusted it towards Elder.
Elder stepped back towards the city hall door. He collected himself and threw his spear which grazed the Wyvern's tail. It screeched and thrashed and jumped up, flying into the air, and making a circle above the garden. Chains dangled from its neck, feet, and wings. Elder used the opportunity to break for the city hall door. He had made a few feet into it when the Wyvern drove its fangs into the columns surrounding the door.
"ELDER! I've got it! Move out of the way! NOW! And avert your eyes!" Hammond shouted, pushing the ballista toward the door. The Wyvern screeched again and rose up, preparing to drive its tail inside the city hall.
"You! You ugly thing! Happy Liberation Day! AHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHA!"
He laughed maniacally as he fired the ballista. A bright white bolt flew towards the Wyvern and exploded in flash of white light. Multiple smaller explosions cracked through the city hall as hot, colourful sparks flew all over the garden and hall. For a solid 10 seconds, the light was blinding. It then faded leaving several spots on the ground burning. The Wyvern had burned to a crisp and fell over on its back, still on fire.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAAHA! WHOOOOOOOO! YEAH! SURPRISE, Elder! Fireworks! The Liberation day celebration was supposed to be next week, but y'know what? With us not even knowing if we'll live till then? I say we do an early celebration!"
------- Notes:
- These fight scenes were really fun to write. And I hope, to read as well. Probably the most fun part of the entire story. Probably should've included more fight scenes all throughout...
- I hope the title "An Early Celebration" made you worry.
Chapter 9: The Ambush
Elder stood straight and wiped the firework ash off his armour. He was in deep focus and calm. But now, a flood of emotions hammered into his consciousness. He resheathed his sword, placed his hands on the sides of his head, bent over, and unleashed a guttural groan.
"AAAAAUUUUGGGGGGHHHH! GGGODS! I could've been killed! I could've- I could've- That could've been it! I could've been ripped apart! Or eaten! Set ablaze! Or- or- or"
"You could've lost your head. Look at that helmet! Wahahahaha!" said Hammond, touching a dented part of Elder's helmet.
"YES! OOOOoooooohhh!"
"But you didn't! The only one set ablaze or ripped apart or- Are the poor crispy corpses baking there in the sun! Why? Because you're a genuine ******, man!"
"Yeah. YEAH! HELL YEAH I AM! WHOOOOO!"
The two hugged aggressively, their armours clanking together. They banged on the backs of each other's cuirasses while howling into the air.
"Alright, alright, let me see that ballista"
It stood in the centre of the hall. All white and golden and every bit of it engraved as Hammond's Great Vice. Its arms curved elegantly, but the shaft was straight. At the back end was a pair of winches and a strange cup-shaped holder that was attached to the rope. A collapsible set of sights laid above the hole through which the loaded bolt poked through. The whole thing rested on a set of locking wheels. It was a work of art and as functional as it was beautiful.
"Aah, I'd forgive you for ogling the thing, but I think you can ogle when we bring it back. Just help me load another rocket into it."
Hammond pulled out the last firework rocket from the in-built rack. They placed the rocket on bolt and tightened the winch. Elder then lifted the back end of the ballista off the ground. Despite being made of some type of metal, it was very light for its size. Enough that he could lift the entire thing by a few inches if he'd tried.
The two pulled the ballista through the door and tilted it over to get it around the Wyvern's scorched remains. Then around the two spearmen's bodies, through the garden door and by a shoddy, empty crossbow, and onto the stone street. The sky was now a shade of lavender, the sun kissed the horizon, and deep blue shadows splayed out, a fertile ground for the void's projections that grew bolder and bolder as time went on.
The two pushed the ballista along, here and there needing to flip it over or carry it across a small gap. While carrying the ballista across a narrow street, they noticed a black fog rolling in over the tops of the neighbouring buildings.
"Ambush?"
"Ambush."
They let go of the ballista. Elder unslung his crossbow and raised his shield while Hammond pulled out a candle from his satchel bag. They stood for a moment, listening, but heard nothing. Hammond broke the silence.
"Okay, look. We can't just walk into an ambush. I say... I go into the right building and take them. You stand here, guard the ballista. Here. Take this candle. Light it if they get too close!"
Hammond then snuck, unarmed, into the right-hand building. Finding the projections wasn't difficult. The black fog they emitted, if you looked closely, flowed from one direction. A staircase. He climbed it until he noticed a split in the fog stream leading through a small door.
He turned the valve on his breastplate and the world revolved around him. He noticed another door leading to the same room and entered through it, seeing a black, veiled blob of flesh.
He turned the valve to its original position and saw himself standing behind an armoured soldier, waiting at the side of the door, his mace in the air, ready to drop when someone comes through. Hammond promptly struck him on the back of the helmet and he toppled over, face-down. He then took the soldier's mace and bashed in his head.
Elder, hearing this from the ground, prepared the candle and carefully scanned the street, but saw nothing.
Hammond continued up the stairs until he reached the door to a small shaded rooftop area in which he saw some benches and dead weeds. He pulled out a firecracker from his satchel, lit the fuse, and threw it through the door. As the firecracker exploded with a bright flash, he ran onto the rooftop where three crososbowmen were groaning and grasping at their eyes. One he kicked towards the wall, and the other two, still staggered, he threw over the roof, onto the jagged rocks below.
In the meanwhile, the first had recovered, aimed his crossbow at Hammond's heart and pulled the trigger. The bolt hit his cuirass and reflected off into the ruins below, staggering Hammond, giving the projection a chance to pull out its dagger and charge him. Hammond put up his fists as it tried to stab through his helmet. He grabbed its right wrist and drove its right hand up, then punched the projection in the head. The dagger clanked on the floor.
Hammond then lunged at the projection and they wrestled on the rooftop. Hammond pummeled the projection with his gauntlets until it weakened, then took off its helmet and carried on bludgeoning it until all resistance had stopped, and the projection's shadowy veil dissipated. He then carried its body and threw it over the rooftop to join his kin on the rocks below.
Hammond looked at the building on the other side of the street, a crossbowman took a shot at the ballista which bounced off its beaming exterior without as much a dent, then ran into the building.
Elder focused on the left building, shielding himself on one side, and holding his crossbow towards a hole in the wall, his focus broken only by the odd scream or body toppling off the side of a building. A bolt cracked as it hit the ballista's arm and ricocheted off, tumbling into the street. A pair of macemen rushed towards the ballista.
Elder shot a bolt towards one. The bolt hit his helmet and stunned him, then bounced straight into the air and fell on the street. Elder then lit the candle and pointed it towards the macemen. They recoiled in fear. One of the macemen caught a spark with his face. He screamed and ran back towards the hole, only to smash into the side wall and collapse.
Hammond then appeared out of the side of the right-side building and dashed across the street, unsheathing his sword, rushing towards the standing maceman, plunging his sword deep into maceman's throat, then turned to the lying one and thrust his sword into his armpit.
A third maceman soon appeared at the door and swung his mace toward Hammond, who was caught distracted. He took the hit straight to his back and toppled over onto his face. Elder dropped his crossbow and his candle, unsheathed his sword and attacked the maceman, slashing him across a leg. The maceman shouted something vile and toppled over. Elder stood back and his legs again. In the meanwhile, Hammond had stood up, took the lying projection's mace, swung it over his head and bashed its head.
Hammond then staggered towards the ballista, gasping for air, and bended over it. His knees then buckled and he fell down, resting his head on the ballista's side. Elder staggered towards his side, huffing as well. There were no words between them. They exchanged a look, then both stared a thousand-yard stare.
----- Notes:
- I've been sat at the laptop for the past 3 days with this page open, but it just ain't flowing. It's time to move onto something else soon.
- Whoah, this got a lot darker than I thought. Nope. Juices are flowing. Though perhaps I should tone them down a notch.
- One final chapter and an epilogue! Stay tuned, kids!
Happy first day of Fall! Don't know about you, but I start counting MY season days from 0[, or whichever number I need to not be late].
Chapter 10: At The Edge of the Beyond
The two laid against the ballista. The past and future disappear to a tired mind. After some time, their heartbeats moved from a full gallop to their "normal" battleground anxious trot. Elder broke the silence.
"Y'alright?"
"..."
"..."
"... No.
I'm gonna hurt tomorrow. I almost wish there weren't one...
... almost."
He grabbed his waterskin and took several deep gulps. He then gave the waterskin to Elder who also took a few gulps, then moved the waterskin around, trying to squeeze out every last drop.
"Empty?" Hammond said weakly and sighed.
"Y'know, I never wanted to be a soldier. I wanted to be a scholar. In a great, booming metropolis. Like I read about in history books. To meet them all. To document them all. To walk on the works of a millenia-worth of its greatest artists. I came -I'm from another plane- from a cold row of apartments upon a square of buildings upon a flawlessly-weaved urban fabric. A perfectly-shaped cog in the world's most efficient machine, ruled by a phantom tyrant.
Compared it to wonderous, mythical, Port. I would have given anything. And I gave everything. And I walked through the portal. And where I imagined seas I saw sands, where I imagined ships, I saw camels, where I imagined ports I saw caravanserais. I came to a legend only to see it decay. Die. Slowly swallowed by the sands and time and memory.
If there's any chance. Any at all. That the waters could flow again, that ships could sail again, that Port could live again. I would take that chance. And I would rest everything I had on it. And I will rest everything I have on it. Time to move."
He got up and wrapped his arms around the ballista. Elder grabbed the ballista by the back end, and they lifted it over the rubble, by the bodies, and back onto a relatively smooth street. They then pushed the ballista towards the armoury, and saw no resistance on the way.
As they approached the Armoury complex, they noticed several fleshy blobs at the gate.
"Excuse these guys, they're just here to see the ballista. Probably. Stay here. I'll be back soon."
The sun was now more than half-gone. Most streets laid in shadow. Elder waited an uneventful few minutes. Out of the complex popped out Aezullya and a familiar white-gold armoured blob.
"I talked to Yeremiah's -bless his soul- apprentice. The plan went smoothly. Now we just need to get into position, near the lighthouse."
They walked through the streets in silence. The most interesting event being Elder gulping down half a waterskin and nearly choking on his spit. They climbed a tower in view of the lighthouse which was tallest tower in the city and still in mint condition. They placed the ballista into position and waited.
Elder could see a bit over the wall. The void and its soldiers stood firm. There were no attacks or raids. The only movement that could be seen was a subtle expansion as the void's black-red armies collected and the void ever-so-slightly shifting and growing, like a thunderhead cloud.
They noticed a pink blob approaching. Hammond turned the valve on his cuirass and shifted into a clump of metal plates. The knight's voice reverberated through Aezullya.
"Hammond! We've got that cursed thing on lock. They're just waiting for your signal."
"Well done, Merlin! We'll signal right after you finish your final task."
"Right... khm"
Soft rustling could be heard, then the knight spoke out in a strong tone though interspersed with cracks revealing a certain vulnerability.
"Aezullya... Take care of them. May their... Valour. Their honour. Their sense of justice. And their might. And their wisdom. That they guide you in the new creation. That I may rejoin them when my time comes. May I fully renew my title: Merlin. Steelheart. Knight of the Silken Veil."
A deep breath was heard, then further rustling. A light blue stream suddenly wrapped across her body, spread across her body, then faded from view.
"Merlin Steelheart, eh? I thought you were 'just Merlin'".
"I was... At the time..."
They stood in silence for a second, then Hammond warped back into Elder's plane.
"Let's finish this. We still have a rocket left, so... let's give 'em one hell of a signal flare."
He adjusted the aim on the ballista and let the rocket loose. It flew across the city, over the wall, and hit one of the flying rings. The rocket exploded in a blinding flash, ripping the ring into pieces, and vapourizing some of the void's troops below. The secondary explosions caused similar havoc among the army. The void's cloud shrunk and its edges sharpened.
In the lighthouse tower, the sunbird flew out of a cage and whacked into the lighthouse's glass chamber. It screeched and turned with a roaring flame. The top of the lighthouse tower emitted a dark black smoke as the lighthouse chamber became engulfed in flame. Black strips of some kind of mechanism then moved across the chamber, scattering the many discrete light beams that danced across the city before focusing the chamber went dark and all its light focused on a single point on the void's being.
The light pierced the void like a rapier revealing a black interior with many deeply-set red cuts within. Aezullya merged with the ballista. It creaked and groaned, and a neon-blue crafter bolt materialized onto the ballista, winding its spool. Hammond and Elder aimed it carefully towards the spot where the lighthouse's beam penetrated the void and fired.
The bolt whistled through the air and hit directly in Za'Lob's gaping wound. The void shifted about and avoided the lighthouse beam, and the beam itself lost some of its shine. The mechanism controlling its lens moved again and split the great beam into two smaller, rotating beams that illuminated Dryport city and outshone the setting sun.
The void's armies broke rank and fled. Many of them were completely evaporated by the light, though some merely fell down, the shadowy veil now gone from their bodies. The void stood firm, but strangely static, its usual wispy, dynamic nature had stopped.
Elder and Hammond stared on from the roof for a minute. Then for another minute. And another. And another. Any joy or awe from their faces slowly morphed into worry.
"Is... it done? Is that it?" said Elder.
"No... It can't be... I'm not sure what is going on... Maybe it's still undecided. I don't think our chances are getting better with time. But if you ask me, we're already ****ed. Nothing would be lost."
Elder sat down on the rooftop edge and laid down, dangling his legs off. Hammond took off his satchel, dropped it on the ground and kicked it towards Elder's head who picked it up and rested his head on it. There were a few hard items rolling around inside, but it was certainly more comfortable than the rooftop stone.
"I'm tired, Hammond..."
"Yup... There's free bedding in the barracks to sleep you lot over if we- After it's over."
"... I thought about my name. I'm keeping it. It's got a... an irony to it. You name a man after your old enemy, intent to rip him apart, take out your frustrations, and then he goes on and finishes the job of his namesake... Also, Elder the Younger's a funny name, Hammond. It just is."
"You can call me Rick, y'know. Captain Hammond's more what the lowly recruits call me."
"What? Already built up a rapport?"
"Not like the Dryport guard's large. A few dozen men in a "city" of... However many there are. Tens of thousands. Down from tens of millions. We're all on a first-name basis."
"Hm. You think I'll ever get back to my own plane?"
"That isn't on me. Even in the glory days, divine gifts were rare. Maybe never."
Elder sighed, took a quick glance at the void and closed his eyes.
"I've been thinking. Why'd you keep calling me marked?"
"Oh. You've seen the void's projections. You look... similar. Not quite to the same extent, but you have an... encompassing darkness. Far as it's going, you are by far the worst minion I have ever seen."
"Hm..."
The sleep-deprivation had gone to Elder and he slowly faded to sleep. He took a few deep breaths, then stopped breathing. His body became lightly translucent, then dissolved into the air like a drop of paint in a bucket of water. A bright light shone from the void's body, and an opaque wall of pure white light slowly engulfed first the void, then the city walls, and inched ever forwards at the rate of one foot per second.
Rick Hammond simply stood and looked on in awe at the approaching wall until it had consumed the lighthouse, the building he stood on, and finally, himself as he stared into the great white timeless abyss beyond.