Pioneers' Alliance, Truth District, Meteo Town

Under the auspices of Commander Hiolh and the civilian second legion of Merchants, gancteurs and labourers, reconstruction of the town has proceeded apace since their arrival, to at least what it was like before the game began, but so far any plans to effectively raise the standard of living or restore Meteo's 1-Star City status haven't come up. The Empire appears to be content to just restore the status quo for the time being, as they promised. 

Between the surge in interest from entrepreneurially-minded Merrowans and the steadily inclining appearance of Newborn, Meteo Town is perhaps more bustling than it's been in years. The latter group especially is injecting a lot of liveliness to the atmosphere, from transplants from other VRMMO titles, completely fresh users and returning players, the sense in the air is quite jolly, moreso than on launch day by a significant degree.

It brings back a strong feeling of nostalgia, as I was one of those returning players a few days from now, once the rumours finally reached me in the midst of my studies. As I well know, however, the rosy tint can't obfuscate the appearance of bad actors, so the positive vibe dissipates quickly.

Speaking of which, it's been a while since Giovanni tried anything. Bloodhungry as I know him to be by reputation, I almost expected them to just ignore the presence of the Unstained and take a crack at me anyway, but even if reckless disregard for his own safety is a defining trait it's not his style to attack in the middle of secure settlements I don't think. He quietly dropped off the radar around a decade from now following the fall of Headhunters to two Saint-level players they managed to offend: 'Knight-General' Daxen Weight and 'Cloudfall' Lola Lao, putting aside their differences.

I was in The Land of Exile as well when it happened, point of fact, but all I saw was the periphery of the storm Lola Lao manifested from a great distance.

"Well, looks like it might take a while to get in," Grand observes upon our arrival, heaving a rucksack on his shoulders filled with our spare potions. With the removal of convenient inventory, all of us are obliged to share the load physically, but the spellcasters are less at risk and don't need to worry as much about the burden, so convention in my time held that the backliners carried the less-weighty supplies on an expedition when required, even if the frontliners had the strength to do so more comfortably.

No amount of complaining from self-entitled mages trumped pragmatism, not until intraspatial storage becomes a factor to consider later down the line.

Olrica shrugs dismissively, "We can try around the back, we're expected after all."

"That won't be necessary," a dry woman's voice interjects from within our midst, the Zomn walking out of a visual distortion, "I have indeed been expecting you, after all."

"Christ, that's the second time in the same hour!" Jade hops back from her with a curse.

Zomn Klaeriss spares a curious glance for her, dismissing it as unimportant just as quickly, "Anh-Elret Nosster. Is this the sum total of your forces today?"

"With respect to the confined tunnels we're expecting to find down there, yes," I confirm, inwardly wondering if casting spatial movement Spells within Meteo Town is something she has special permissions for. I wouldn't be surprised.

The old spellcaster belays a response as she takes a more meticulous look at the gathered party, "I do not wish to be rude, but are you certain this force is...adequate?"

"The Level of the opposing forces should be approximately Level 20," I assure her, "We have all cleared the Reminiscence that depicts the challenge ahead at least once, also. Our equipment standard is the only thing I believe to be lacking for the task."

The Zomn contemplates the situation, "Very well. I assume that all of you are those demi-immortal foreigners from another Reflection?"

"You can think of it that way."

"Then I have no objections," Zomn Klaeriss accepts it as is, "Were any of you locals, possessed of mortal limitations, I would insist that you be substituted or else the expedition delayed. The risk is not worth your lives, I believe."

How benevolent.

"We can handle ourselves," Windy thumps her chestplate, "Don't worry."

"I can tell," the Zomn retrieves her pipe, and lights it up while turning around, "Now, let us quit this place. Once outside the walls, I shall bring us all to the vicinity of the mine."

Liggit Mine, Fander Field

Compared to the Kon smuggler who sent us here last, the process employed by the far more competent and experienced Zomn is much gentler, though it does leave her momentarily out of breath from the strain. She is well past her prime, by her own admission, but cutting open a spatial tunnel between two points over several miles that is also stable is evidence of her former glory.

Intraspatial and Interspatial travel is complicated and high-effort even considered in a vacuum. Merrow's unique composition just enhances it, with regards to the innumerable 'Reflections' like the Land of Exile, not to mention other magical and dimensional bullshit layered on top. Or so Paul kept insisting back in the day, whenever the boss made him shift a party of us from our base in Fierdro to the Treasured Ruinscape for a job.

Up until he got poached. We had to improvise after that.

Unfortunately, despite being warned and reminded...yet again, a couple of people decided not to heed the instructions given and are sprawled out on the floor, suffering for it.

Reit and Grand, to be specific.

"I feel like I swallowed my own lungs and upper intestine in one go..." Reit groans, slowly streaming water into his mouth.

"You were specifically warned," Angelus takes the donated waterskin back from him, "How close are we to the mine?"

"It is just beyond that ridge," Zomn Klaeriss points, leaning down and retrieving a chunk of polished blue rock. Perhaps a beacon prepared in advance.

The walk from there to the familiar rim of the excavated pit is quiet, almost solemn, for whatever reason. As if the Zomn's austerity was suffocating any desire for idle chitchat. At the bottom of the pit, as we begin the spiralling descent, is a gazebo-like tent, the roof emblazoned with the Unstained Reginlei's symbol, a small group of them barely visible from this height standing guard at the entrance.

At the bottom, an unusually well-dressed man and woman, both Firm, exit the tent, which houses a few bunks and a desk large enough for three people to work from comfortably. I don't get the impression they're actual soldiers, or even that they've seen a battlefield in their entire life.

"Zomn Klaeriss, how wonderful 'tis to meet a heroic figure such as yourself," the man's mouth opens, and flowers fall out, "Prentr Bilos uin Lora, I am an Adinis Orgf attached to The Unstained Reginlei and the one responsible for overseeing the Reminiscence within Liggit Mine once the...filth, has been tidied up. This is my assistant, Ptrentr Henna uin Lora - my youngest sister."

"Lora...Yes, I believe I have met the current head of your household during my stay in the Central Provinces," Zomn Klaeriss mutters to herself, "Anh-Ptrentr Jeysa uin Lora, wasn't it?"

Henna uin Lora offers a pleased smile, "Yes, our dear aunt. She often spoke of your Deed while we were young, but alas, the wounds sustained during the conflict proved too deep, and our coffers...not deep enough to hire a healer of sufficient skill. Aunt Jeysa passed three winters ago, leaving our father in charge of the estate."

"A shame to hear it," the Zomn responds diplomatically, not displaying any indication of grief, "Let us move to more current matters, however. Are there any changes we should be aware of since the last report?"

"Compared to the information we have on the Reminiscence, Miner's Nightmare, a non-intrusive investigation by The Unstained's Monalk dun Ingrodt suggest that the number of enemies ahead is...lower, but other than the Vector believed to be at the heart of this infestation, nothing poses a serious threat. At least, not to your life, exalted Zomn...these others, however, will need to exercise caution."

Faced with their provocation, I get a sudden premonition that Jade is about to start mouthing off - but she stays quiet, for a nice change of pace. I myself feel compelled to retort but likewise, say nothing. Action is preferable to a pointless argument with a random clerk. I have...so much work to get back to which demands I avoid exacerbating things. Like a small pile of items entrusted by clients in need of appraisal that have been gathering dust for the past two days...that I'm getting increasingly pointed correspondence concerning.

The pile is only getting bigger because of the difference in my rates versus Trom's, and even if I'm thinking of upping them to account for the dwindling durability of The Failed Mage's Monocle.

"Are you questioning the judgment of Lüdr dun Ocri, oa Ptrentr?" Zomn Klaeriss asks matter-of-factly in my stead. The woman freezes, and shrinks back. Her brother fakes a laugh, bowing deeply to cover for her.

"Pray forgive my little sister, exalted Zomn, curiosity seems to have bested her judgment."

"I care not, but your sentry companions are like to disagree," the Zomn brushes him off, "Now, please step aside. There is work to be done."

Eager to appease her and avoid another faux pas, the pair smoothly strafe apart to allow us to walk between them and onward to the hungry mouth of the mines ahead. Stern-faced, none of the soldiers acknowledge us, instead following the strident figure of the Zomn with respectful gazes. Her Title is not for nought, compared to my more or less hollow one.

"From here, Truthseekers will be taking the lead," I inform the Zomn plainly, "Assuming you have no objection."

"Nay, I am well-aware of my role and the dangers to my Path's continuance should I be swayed at any moment," Zomn Klaeriss breathes slowly inward, "It is likewise for the best that you are allowed to test your mettle, is it not?"

"It is," I agree, appreciative of her understanding, "Even if the experience were not valuable on its own, in either definition, Lord dun Ocri is expecting us to acquit ourselves well. To do otherwise would defeat the purpose of this impromptu evaluation."

Looking to the rest of the party for support, I get a few nods back, but perhaps I hadn't made the circumstances fully clear. The broader context is for me to worry about in any case, so it's not a big deal that we're not all on the same page.

The Zomn says nothing in response, so I start organising our party into formation after throwing her an invitation to it as well. She may not be a part of the Follower system, but the concept of a 'party' predates our arrival on Merrow by years beyond counting, among other conceits players might be familiar with. I wonder if it's a chicken or egg situation, as I take the foremost position, lantern lit.

For want of a partner for Windy, I'll be making use of my well-above-average Level and experience as a Skirmish Tank to substitute as an off-tank where necessary. Admittedly, finding people ready and willing to take some lumps even as they fight is a little less common. - Still no word back from whoever it was that Jericho contacted - that he's mentioned - which is unfortunate.

Tracing the familiar paths downward, and obliterating the much weaker Shards of Terror that continue to spawn and patrol the upper reaches of the subterranean halls even cut off from the demon which originated them. Though, saying that, from what I've learned over the course of numerous demon-slaying contracts, sometimes a 'Vector' - as defined to be a sufficient source of Corruption detached from the main source - develops enough to be semi-autonomous. In such cases, it has the potential to become as annoying as the original problem, like an Aberrant.

Hm. Wonder if there's a relation?

Probably not, or if nothing else no direct correlation springs to mind. I retain a rather vague understanding of both subjects in either case, as I was not hired for my wild, fanciful theories, but my sword arm. And until circumstances conspired to change, I was content being no more than hired muscle.

Maybe...

Perhaps "content" isn't the right word.

Resigned.

After all, short of a miracle my opportunities to advance to a higher stratum were non-existent. Lacking money, connections and actionable possibilities, all of it set in stone by those already above. It was stifling, but comfortable, secure. I made $134k annually, not including any bonus pay for particularly nasty jobs and compensation if they went sour. It was good work for good pay, but...

I catch myself at the tail end of my rumination and find it to be eerily similar to my thoughts the day we confronted Arevas in person. I doubt there's anything actually influencing me, but returning here has definitely sent my mind back a few weeks to that time. Before I can dig deeper into my insecurities, I feel a slight twinge in my chest as the atmosphere subtly changes.

"Hold," I raise the lantern, halting my steps on the sloping descent of a fork in the road, the left path a dead end, as if the miners changed their minds partway through and made the decision to dig deeper down into the earth. At this depth perhaps, they crossed the periphery of the Pool of Desire's influence. Might be what I'm feeling now, sensitive as the Shard of Jannis' Authority seems to be toward demons and Corruption for whatever reason.

"What's up, boss?" Windy asks, strangely calm.

"Get ready for serious fights from here on out, I believe we just crossed the Lair's threshold," I inform the group, "I'll be turning off my lantern now, Angelus, Karin, please turn yours on. Reit, Jade, keep watch for patrols of Fearstruck Miners from this point onward."

Murmurs of assent. The party pulls out their weapons again, with a mind to keep them to hand for the duration of our delve.

Further and further we go, down and through a much longer series of tunnels than exhibited inside the Reminiscence, the atmosphere steadily more oppressive and the airflow stagnating. It's not yet impossible to breathe, fortunately, but the air down here started getting noticeably thinner about ten minutes ago, the oxygen deficit replaced by stone dust.

Whoever was overseeing the mining operations here likely had a way of dealing with it and any pockets of toxic gases they might potentially encounter, but either they took it with them when the project was abandoned or someone stole it afterwards. Every so often I see metal brackets bent out of shape as though haphazardly torn away; one strut still embedded in the wall above, meant to keep a section of pipe in place. Long gone.

Quiet as it has been, the tension has dropped since we crossed the threshold. Conversation has been sporadic, if subdued, relegated to speculation and mild complaining about the lack of action. Even that easy quiet is somehow silenced when we turn one more corner.

"Whaat the ffuuuck?" Angelus is first to react, eschewing his normal eloquence from the shock of what confronts us.

The road ahead is blocked.

Stone and bodies, intermingled, but not from a cave-in. Skeletal remains of people falling over one another, fused with Terrorstone in some manner or not at all, form a plug in the artery of the mine like bad cholesterol. Some were clearly trying to escape pursuit, crawling over corpses, or being dragged and clawed into by others, stone-tipped fingers puncturing through bone, their posture desperate, reaching for salvation.

"Disgusting," Zomn Klaeriss exclaims, revolted. I hesitate to agree, but it is quite grotesque I'll admit.

"...I can't help feel sorry for them," Windy mutters, approaching the blockage and staring deeply into the eyesockets of the skull of a victim at head height, "Reminds me a little of The Scavenger, almost."

"That was gross, this is just...sad," Jade replies, her face ambivalent behind the cloth mask.

"Is it...are they like, alive? Or..?" Oil Lancenau, our male Kon Elementalist, asks nervously.

Raising her shortsword, Windy taps the outstretched fingers of one of the bodies experimentally, receiving a sharp 'tnk' noise back, but inspiring no movement from the corpse or it's fellows. The amalgamation seems inert.

She huffs, and hits it again a little more firmly, "Seems dead to me. Dunno if that's really a mercy or not, some of these look pretty horrific. Weird how they just managed to all gather together like this though."

"Might help explain why none of the creatures down here made it to the surface," Angelus observes, thoughtfully craning his neck and raising his lantern, "Not really seeing any gaps we can crawl through."

Karin shudders, "Ew, no thanks. That's a hard pass from me A-dawg." 

"A-dawg..?"

"No way we're getting through this any time soon," Grand comments, "Dislodging all these corpses'll take hours and we don't have any tools."

"I have, like, a singular, shitty pickaxe, but yeah, this looks like a job for some low-yield explosives," Jade gives the blockage a rather disrespectful kick, "Which we don't have access to yet, so...Hey, Miss Zomn? Any ideas?"

Reluctant to respond to her at first, Zomn Klaeriss sighs, "Very well. It would appear that we are stymied otherwise."

"<Shemoa's Libram>" after clearing her throat, the old spellcaster invokes a fairly familiar Skill, a holographic tome materialising in the air in front of her and rapidly flipping through its pages, her eyes darting across pages that don't seem to run out.

"Erm, 'scuse me, what's that?" Oil queries, spellbound.

"A useful type of Skill for any maehjoult," the Zomn mutters, the lapse in concentration causing the procession of pages to slow, "Particularly one half-retired and moss-covered like oneself. Within these pages is recorded the somatic components of almost every Spell I have learnt over the years - more conveniently accessed than a conventional tome."

"Forgive me if it's rude to ask, but how many Spells have you learned for that to be necessary with your experience?" Angelus asks, just as curious.

"Several hundred," the Zomn gives a rough estimate rather than trust us with the specifics, "Though, admittedly, there are quite a few redundancies owing to different iterations of the same Spell, between Grades especially. The distinction for some Spells is dependent more on other factors, in such cases as the original increases in Mastery and completely replaces its lesser preceding Spell, but still nonetheless takes up space in my mental library."

"I see," Angelus smiles, and bows his head in gratitude despite the fact she can't see him from his position behind her, "I'd be interested to learn more about similar subjects in the future if you have time for a chat?"

The Zomn retrieves a slick black metal wand from a thin sheath inside her waistbelt, the only thing possibly able to be called an adornment being the magic stone flush with the base of the hilt, more a utilitarian necessity for when it needs to be replaced than aesthetics, "Hmpf, I am not taking any students, boy. I haven't the time left to me to do a proper job of it anymore - best you look elsewhere for a mentor. Preferably one that shares your discipline, for a more sensible starting point. But enough, I have a Spell in mind now."

I wave to Windy and Jade in the dim light to move out of her way, and fall behind her so she has space to work with.

"To impart one small scrap of wisdom, however," Zomn Klaeriss mentions as an afterthought, "Direct interface with mana tainted by Demonic Corruption is extremely ill-advised. As such I will be employing a projectile-based Spell that retains no thread back to myself and risks no contamination."

With a small intake of breath, the old maehjoult sets her stance and raises her wand in a manner that suggests familiarity with rapiers. With long, flowing flicks of the wand, deep gouges in the floor are cut that travel the same trajectory into the blockage, smoothly slicing a rectangular shape into the chaos of corpses and rock. It reminds me, in a way, of thermite-based door breaches employed by law enforcement and militaries, except that Zomn Klaeriss appears to be literally rending the fabric of space, from the way light and the dust particulates warp in proximity to each cut as it is discharged.

Finally, she circles the wand's tip in the air and thrusts, smashing the interior of her outline outwards to create a door, not having uttered a single syllable throughout. For someone 'out of practice' as she claims to still be capable of silent casting these Spells, I can't help but feel as though the Zomn is being disingenuous, or at the very least excessively humble. Chant Modifications are not easy to do, as far as I know, and Omission requires a high degree of Mastery with a specific Spell even then.

"Impressive," Grand whistles appreciatively, eyes aglow with hunger, "Too bad Jupiter couldn't make it, we could have geeked out together."

"I'll send him a clip from the recording after," Angelus chuckles good-naturedly.

"He'll appreciate it, I'm sure," Windy shivers, staring at the wand in Zomn Klaeriss' hand apprehensively, "I am so glad we're on the same side so I don't have to be on the receiving end of that."

"With the disparity between us as it stands, you are right to be," Zomn Klaeriss holsters her wand, "However, were you of similar attainment, I assure you that it would not be so one-sided as it might appear, even in my prime. Take heart."

"We'll all be badasses eventually," Jade grins, encouraging Windy, "It's inevitable. I'm awesome, you're fantastic, we're both fucking incredible."

"Ok ok, less hyperbolic, J," Windy pats her head, "I'm still getting used to not being basically maxed out. Miss my old power armour. Original run signature-engraved Luklexis 250-F Premium Gamma Series, my love~, my lifeblood~..."

"Hear that," Grand echoes wistfully, "Spent like €3000 on my gear."

Jade snorts, "Fuckin' whale. No damn wonder you're higher ranked than we are."

"I can't judge," Reit mutters to himself, looking away from them, guilty.

I decide that the tangent's run it's course, "Alright, settle down for a moment and let's move on. Thank you, Zomn."

"It is of no moment."

Let's go find out what this seal was keeping contained all these years, shall we?

IdleFancy

In case it wasn't made clear back in Olton, I will occasionally be ignoring the "One Steve Limit" for the sake of preserving the world-building, but not to the extent that character names/identities get muddled. Just enough to make common names feel as though they'd be reasonably common.

That's the idea at least.