[IC] Perdo Wastes - NMV

[GreivousKhan]

The stylus nib hovered over the shard crystal set in a stand before Shenestra. She sat on a brightly embroidered rug in front of the writing stand, her legs crossed, free hand held to the small of her back. She focused her thoughts, composing herself to commit her sentiment for eternity. Three runes intertwined in her mind, forming the concept, embellished with a unique flourish Shenestra had been devising for several cycles. Picturing the edges and curves of the rune overlaying the facets and contours of the crystal, Shenestra started to move her hand. Light flowed between stylus and shard. Molecules rearranged, forming a design of shifting colors in the heart of the crystal. Her hand moved back and forth, left and right, shaping the poem-design in glimmering rainbow. When she was finished, she returned the stylus to its holder on the writing tray. She regarded her work with critical eyes but was pleased with the result.

Warm reds flowed into cold blues and jade green, separating the three runes yet linking them with the oranges and purples between. Shenestra plucked the crystal from the claw-like holder and turned it around in her fingertips. The colors shifted and the runes interleaved in different ways, each perspective creating a subtle new verse of shape and hue. The poem-form came full circle in her hand, flowing without hindrance back to the beginning. Shenestra smiled at the accomplishment . She read the poem again, satisfaction replaced with longing. Standing, she left the small composing area of her habitat and went into the main living chamber. Crossing the rug-scattered space Shenestra stopped before a blister-like protrusion on the wall. It peeled open at a wave of her hand, revealing rows of shelves, each holding a dozen poem-crystals. Shenestra placed her latest composition in its place on the lowest row.

She took a while to review them all, picking up each, reading and re-reading them, feeling the story of her long life, of her love, unfolding once more. From the first few crude slashes to the elegant lines of her latest works, the poems told a story not only of her feelings but of her growing proficiency. The poet delved deeper, examining the meaning as well as the form. The crudeness of the first poems mirrored her raw content, the pain and suffering she had felt on the Dawn of Mourning. The cycle her race and people where nearly destroyed. As she had moved away from that hard time, pushed her sorrow deeper and deeper into the past, the movements had come more fluently, the language more assured as her thoughts and emotions had settled. She smiled again at the recurring themes, her playful delves into possible future of happiness.

So strange that the future of her people would depend greatly on the works of their past. Shenestra snapped out of her contemplations, suddenly aware that she was running late. Rarenrar had wanted to meet with her today, something to do with the new prisoners progress they had taken on the Mystique plane. She stepped into her robing area and swiftly donned her gear. It had been almost several cycles since the events on the Mystique world, though time was a difficult thing to chart in the ever changing shifting realms of the omniverse.

After several minutes Shenestra was descending a lift pod, hoping to enjoy the short but leisurely journey to the Death-cult main tower in the Arieki continent . A area located in the deep arctic north of the hot wastelands to the south. It was a momentary safe haven for what was left of the dark fey race. A small tri-winged craft took her the rest of the way, sailing over sharp rigged icy rocks and hazardous formations.

---

several cycles later...

Looking over the walkways railing Shenestra voiced a question. "How much longer will the diffusion process take?"

Rarenrar stood beside her casting his gaze down from he platform that oversaw the operations below. Several pieces of machinery stabilized by dark crystals were strategically placed throughout the chamber bellow.

"Hard to say. A day from now? Three? The Technomancer's resistance has slowed things more then I'd like." Rarenrar sniffed. He no longer whore his war-mask, his long dreads pooling behind his head.

"We already knew his compliance would be...difficult."

Rarenrar sighed with a nod. "Of course, that was foreseen. Still that does not make these set-backs any more tolerable."

"Perhaps we should tell the Mystan the reason for his work? It may help."

He only shook his head. "No, we can't risk the danger that may bring, the less who know the better. Our promise to spare his people should be enough to gainer his compliance."

Shenestra merely shrugged her understanding.

"How likely are his people to follow us?" Rarenrar suddenly asked.

Shenestra furrowed her brow as she thought on the answer. "Few of them have the technology to follow us, let alone jump dimensions. But it is a possibility."

"Very well then, I have already increased patrols. But remain on guard all the same. We have come to far to fail now."

[MelonHead]

The Clockwork Man was blown away by the sheer volumes of data his small spider-companion was sending him directly from the mainframe of the spaceship. With its vital systems re-engaged he had quickly summarised that, as he had first thought, the ship was not of Mystan make, despite the fact that they were a space faring nation. Rather, a species far off in distant space had created the craft, sentient machines if the databases were anything to go on, the Clockwork Man couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship, a certain rightness, with the situation.

George, on the other hand, was more pragmatic about the situation.

Some time passed aboard the ship, with the living quarters sufficient for a short journey on very limited rations. The Clockwork Man had no need to worry, but his companion would have to make do with some form of super-nutrient locked away in the living quarters. Apparently the machine race had organic companions, or perhaps it was for some other reason.

The Clockwork Man explained, over an extended period of time, exactly what the duo were now doing. They were seeking the Mystan Elder, taken by some form of technologically advanced species who resembled humans (for a number of reasons, similar to how the Clockwork Man was able to tell Arty himself was human at a near glance.) Presumebly through being forced under the confinements of the ship the two would get to know each other at least passably, though how forthcoming Arty would be was questionable. The Clockwork Man would reveal little of his past or his objectives, but say that he was from a planet of humans. The ship hurtled through empty space for some time, shifting strangely as if pulled through into different sections entirely, it was somewhat beyond the Clockwork Man’s own ability to comprehend.

Then, finally, after a long pursuit using the incredibly advanced tracking systems of the spaceship, their journey was at an end.

“The scanning equipment leaves no margin for error, the ‘ship’ we are tracking has not left that planet.” The Clockwork Man pointed down out the window, seemingly taking in his stride the outer-wordly experience, despite coming from a relatively low-tech world. “It does not look inviting, that much is evident.” He observed drily. The ship broke the atmosphere and plummeted down, and the Clockwork Man would have gritted his teeth if he had any. The Clockwork Spider was completely in control now, and by extension, its half-complete matrix. Should it not be sufficient, they would likely be making a rather more forceful landing than expected.

Fortunately, the ship set down in a barren wasteland devoid of life, beneath a black sky just as uninviting. The signal they sought was somewhere in the wilderness ahead, so the ship had calculated the safest distance to land to remain undetected, a relatively easy feet due to the intense distorting effects of electric storms and the generally terrible environment.

“We’ve arrived.” The Clockwork Man said finally, walking towards the exit. He had long since explained that Arty was under no obligation to join him any further, he could remain with the ship and even fly it home if he wanted, or if he could. The spider scampered up after the Clockwork Man, jumping onto his back and clinging to his tattered shirt.

[Schradinger]

He spent most of the journey on the bridge of the vessel, exchanging small snippets of his own world and life with his companion in exchange for what little he was told himself. There was little in the way of personal information, as it seemed both men were slow to trust and neither divulged anything of great personal importance. That or neither even had any information of great personal importance. Either way, the duration of the conversations was still outweighed by the duration of the silences. During these times of silence, Arty would often spend long hours standing in front of the main viewport, gazing through his mask at the great emptiness beyond and the shifting stars that shone through. The patterns, or more specifically the method by which they were shifting so suddenly and without the ship seeming to actually move, were absolutely fascinating. This ship was crammed full of some remarkable technology, which was where he spent the remainder of his time, attempting to deduce the mechanisms that powered it. He had little success. It was like trying to read Shakespeare's original plays when the only language you knew was mandarin.

When they finally did arrive, he rejoined the Clockwork man on the bridge to find himself on a planet that quite literally looked like hell. It wasn't the looks, however, that impressed him the most. "Wow... This place is powerful." It felt like there were a hundred thunderstorms all raging through the wasteland at once, and Arty had never felt so much power in his life. It was exciting. Energizing. He felt like he could run a thousand miles flat out. "I think I'm gonna like it here." He stepped off the ship behind his ally and followed him out into the wastes. "So refresh my memory, who are we here to kill again?"

[MelonHead]

The Clockwork Man gave Arty a sharp sideways glance as he stepped off the ship.

“If we can avoid it, we won’t be killing anyone.” He said, looking out towards the electrified wastes ahead, and the mountainous terrain within view some distance away, where he figured they needed to be heading. “If we have to however, don’t hesitate.” He added as a way of accommodating his accomplices bloodlust.

“I’m ultimately here for the Mystan Elder, but after the trouble they went to in order to capture him in the first place, I’m expecting some resistance.” He mentally shrugged, and began striding forward at a steady but impressive pace. It was likely to be a long journey, even with their proximity to the mountain.

[Schradinger]

"Don't worry, I'm sure the inhabitants of a desolate hellish world full of harsh volcanoes and massive electrical storms will be immensely hospitable to strangers carrying weapons. We probably don't have anything to worry about. Hell, they might even volunteer to carry him back to the ship for us." The speech was, of course, complete sarcasm. Not only was he pretty sure the inhabitants wouldn't like the fact that strangers carrying weapons were just going to stroll right into their mountains and take some guy they'd kidnapped, but he wouldn't be surprised if they had orders to shoot on sight. No, he wouldn't be surprised by that at all. Generally when someone was kidnapped, the someones doing the kidnapping wanted the kidnapped someone to do something for them, very often for nefarious purposes. Which meant they weren't gonna give him up. Even if Mr. Clock asked nicely.

Which left the tried and true solution of bisecting everyone in sight until they either agreed to hand him over or there was no one left to dispute your claim to his services. Either way, you get the guy back and bucketloads of cannon fodder get slaughtered, all because the other guys thought they could hold onto him even though they're obviously not the heroes of the story. Those would be yours truly and his shiny metal companion, trekking across an electrified wasteland in search of some mystical old guy.

[MelonHead]

After climbing snowy cliff-sides for what felt like hours, the tireless Automaton finally paused to look across the expanse, his target clearly in view. The giant tower up ahead was so ridiculously fantastical he couldn’t help but be awed.

“Now, if I were a betting man I would place the Mystan at the top of that tower.” The Clockwork Man said ironically, pointing towards said tower with one hand as he half crouched beside his human ally. “Probably guarded by an entire army.” He added.

“Got any ideas?”

[Schradinger]

Arty crouched in silence for several moments, studying the fortress ahead. He could see several external defensive positions from his position on the icy rock outcropping, but it was nearly impossible to make out details from this distance, even for his enhanced eyes. In an effort to mollify his companion, he automatically discarded the first seven ideas that came to him, as they all required an excessive amount of bloodshed, which he'd been asked to avoid. That left the eighth idea.

"If we can get to the base of the tower undetected, scaling the outside shouldn't be a problem, and from there we just break through a window at the top and find your buddy." He looked at the robot next to him, unsure of his capabilities when it came to climbing sheer metal surfaces. "I can carry you if you'd like."

[MelonHead]

“I think you’re right.” The Clockwork Man agreed. “And no, I can climb.” He added. With powerful lenses for eyes he could examine the entire area in almost scoped precision, which immediately allowed him to highlight a problem for the duo on approaching the tower without being detected.

“There is one small problem however.” He alerted the human, nodding in the direction of the tower, there were two fairly well spaced out patrols circling the grounds, with another likely behind the tower to complete a wide degree of vision over the area. They seemed to be carrying rifles of some kind to the Clockwork Man’s untrained eye; until he could get closer it will be impossible to tell what they could do. The closest patrol was approaching directly in front of Arty and him, though he judged them at least one hundred and fifty feet further across the plateau.

“I would suggest we eliminate one of the groups, non-lethally if possible, and then use the gap provided to reach the tower.” The Clockwork Man said, turning to regard his ally, expecting a quick response before the opportunity was lost and the patrol moved past the particularly advantageous rocky terrain.

[Schradinger]

There would be no response, quick or otherwise, to the Clockwork Man's plan. In fact, there would be no sign at all that Arty had ever been crouching next to his robot pal when he turned to regard him. As soon as he'd agreed to the the plan, Arty had dropped off the side of their little outcropping and began making his way toward the patrol, using the scattered rocks for cover. By the time the suggestion was made, he would be little more than a dark silhouette against the snow, crouching behind a rock less than 50 feet from the patrol. He moved silently in spite of the icy terrain, finding sure footing even on the most sheer of surfaces as he closed the gap further to position himself behind a boulder just in front of the patrol.

When they reached him and moved past, he stepped out from his hiding place and slipped a hand between the back of the helmet and the body armor of the two rearmost guards and grabbed their necks. Every muscle in their body went rigid in an instant as he lifted them off the ground, preventing them from calling out or dropping their rifles as he pulled them behind the boulder.

[MelonHead]

Cute the Clockwork Man thought sardonically, after turning to find Arty had already sped half-way down the plateau, using the rocks for cover. The Automaton of course followed suit, making some noise despite his best efforts as he relied on superior speed rather than stealth to take down the guards some distance up ahead. Driving forward with all his power, he was close by when Arty made his move, dropping down and jumping out from behind a boulder to dispatch two guards with incredible efficiency.

The Clockwork Man did not slow his charge, but instead collided with the two forward guards even as one turned after hearing a slight disturbance. His metallic body barrelled straight into the first of the unlucky duo, throwing him sideways even as the second dragged his gun around in alarm. He received nothing more than a precise blow to the sternum for his efforts which caused his throat to momentarily collapse, he fainted instantly from the assault.

Quickly, the Clockwork Man strode over to the first of his guards and delivered a powerful punch into the front of his helmet, followed by two more until the metal crumpled and the guard was left out cold.

The Clockwork Man stood straight after his brief scuffle, straightening his jacket.

“We can’t all be so neat.” He observed as a way of apology to Arty for his less than stealthy take-downs. Even as he spoke, his magic permeated the four’s communication equipment, causing it to internally malfunction, hopefully that would buy them some time, if anyone contacted them it would be far more suspicious to be greeted by silence.

Without another word, the Clockwork Man began sprinting towards the tower, knowing they had only a short while to reach the base and start climbing before the patrol would be found.

[Schradinger]

"Yeah... I am pretty neat, aren't I?" There was an unseen wink beneath Arty's mask, meant to give away the joke but failing utterly since his comrade couldn't seen his face. Hopefully he'd pick up on that anyway. Either way, with the patrol now out of commission they now had a brief window of opportunity to reach the tower unnoticed, and Arty took it without hesitation. His armored limbs propelled him forcefully across the remaining distance to the tower in only a few seconds, and once there it was a simple transition from horizontal to vertical.

He wasted no time waiting for his comrade, and once he was on the wall began a rapid climb toward the tower's peak. Each step was anchored to the surface only long enough to propel him into the next, and his vertical sprint carried quickly to the summit. Once there, he opted for the dramatic flair of a backflip as he crested the edge, then dropped to a crouch on the top of the towers outer wall. NOW he would wait for his compatriot.

[MelonHead]

The Clockwork Man was right behind his compatriot every step of the way, though he chose to climb more conventionally using hand and feet, along with a helpful magnetic pulse from his metallic body. He too crested the top of the tower, noticeably a few seconds behind the human, and jumped into a crouch beside him to consider their next move.

“It’s likely the Mystan is in there.” He nodded down towards the very top of the tower, which unfortunately had no easy access windows for them to make use of.

“We’ll have to go through there.” He nodded further down, at a window roughly a floor below where they needed to go. The Clockwork Man was forced to raise his voice somewhat, betraying its unnatural nature, because of the shrieking wind so high off the ground. For once, he was glad he couldn’t feel anything.

He slid and dropped, falling back and through the window below and cracking through two thick plates of glass with a sharp kick, sending the sound of shattering shards all throughout the dark room he fell in. The sounds of the outside permeated the room to further his lack of stealth, and he stood and shook glass from his jacket with as much dignity as he could muster. The room was empty, a quick glance was enough to tell him that, but whatever lurked outside in the corridors between him and the upper floor access was likely to know exactly where he was now. He opened the door gingerly, prepared to slam it shut, and took a brief look outside.

[GreivousKhan]

The ambient lighting in the chamber was a dull faded green. The echo of spinning machinery resonated throughout the room. The old Mystan slightly bent of back, whispering words of power, waved his hands as he manipulated the raw arcane dials of the pedestal before him. Several rings ranging from a center circle moving outward to large rings were displayed upon the platform. Every ring had several glyphs and runes written upon its surface. Several of the circles were spinning, but the a few starting from the center had already stopped, the rune at the top of each circle was glowing an eerie amethyst light.

Rarenrar with two other dark cloaked guards watched on from the out edge of the chamber. The Mystan looked over his shoulder, sweat gleaming on his brow. "The gate is almost aligned, I only require a few moments more."

Rarenrar nodded his hood and mask concealing his features from the old Mystan. The elder sighed and went back to work. These beings, whoever they were, had promised him safe passage back home should he complete this simple alignment. He didn't know if he could trust them but he had little choice. The task itself wasn't that difficult after all for someone as skilled as he.

Without turning back he asked for what must have been the fourth time now. "I have you word you will let me go once I complete my task?"

"Once we verify the coordinates, yes."

The Elder went back to his work Rarenrar started to pace from a mix of boredom and a mixture of enthusiasm. To think after many long years they would be going home! He knew it was a bit premature but he could not help but feel optimistic. Suddenly his inbuilt comm rang within his inner ear. He looked to the other two cultist, ordering them to remain with the Mystan, then quickly exited the chamber into a narrow hallway.

"Tharchion, an alarm just went off on the mid-levels. We're sending archons to investigate but thought you should be aware."

Rarenrar scowled. "Understood, but seal off the entrances between here and the lower level. And get a sky talon airborne just in case."

With that done Rarenrar wasted little time in contacting Shenestra. Should whatever, or whoever, had managed to infiltrate the tower got past the archons he wanted a quick response available to deal with the threat. A part of him did hope that might be necessary, it had been along time since he'd needed to take part in any kind of direct conflict.

---

(lower level)

As the clockman opened the door, a charm activated responding to the unidentified intrusion. However no guards responded, there were no alarms sounded or any shouts of warnings. The hall appeared apparently calm and void of a living soul, just a dark corridor void of light. The moment anyone were to enter it and proceed down toward the only elevator on the floor, the walls would suddenly hum. Trap doors suddenly revealed themselves, and a dozen armored figures draped in fine steel emerged from the doors following a stream of noxious gas. The torrent of poison was meant to incapacitate living targets, so they had no effect on the manner of creatures entering the hall from both sides. They hefted blades blazing of nether energies and wasted little time in menacing the intruders with their weapons. The eye slits of the armored figures were afire with deadly amber light, but they moved as if nothing was within the suits of mail.

[MelonHead]

“So much for stealth.” The Clockwork Man muttered angrily, as trap doors opened on either side of what had at first appeared to be an empty corridor. With barely a moment to spare he dipped one hand carefully into his satchel and launched one of his plasma grenades past two of the metallic figures which emerged, weapons at the ready. The grenade exploded behind them, sending burning plasma down the narrow confines of the corridor and simply melting through a good number of the guards, leaving messy molten metal remains.

However, that still left the two most immediate threats, and possibly three more of the figures further down the corridor, unscathed. The Clockwork Man was forced to think very quickly as they spent no time at all closing the distance on the lithe Automaton, driving him to somewhat hasty action. Their weapons were powerful, though he knew that Elmorium could sustain a hit from them after a cursory magical analysis of their qualities. What was important was to keep them from driving into him and giving him no time to retaliate, so, he took the fight to them.

Bounding forward, he used the side of the corridor as a spring board and delivered a ruthless round-house kick to the first of the guard’s metal heads, avoiding the blade by a minute distance even as the guard collapsed sideways and the Clockwork Man dropped behind him. Realising that a choke wasn’t going to work on such an opponent, even as the guard regained his balance and attempted to turn while his fellow was already all the way around but some distance in front, the Clockwork Man instead decided to use their weapons against them. He drove his weight forwards, slamming the metal man down the corridor and driving him into the guard, who swung his weapon without mercy towards the Clockwork Man’s impromptu hostage. The blade sheared through its head, but not before its own blade was thrust through its lower body and dragged all the way up to its neck, melting through them as if they were paper. Both blades flickered out as they were dropped by their users, who simultaneously collapsed into each other.

Having barely a moment to recover before the remaining three guards reached him, the Clockwork Man looked up and hoped to see his ally join the fray. Should he remain atop the rooftop, presumably paralysed with indecision or fear, he would reluctantly draw his pistol and continue the fight for his life.

[Schradinger]

Heh. Paralyzed with fear. An interesting notion... If Arty had been capable of actually feeling fear that is. No, he was not the sort to shy away from or become crippled by odds that were stacked against him. In fact, he relished the challenge. It made him look all the more badass when he beat those odds to a bloody pulp. In truth though, he seriously doubted the odds were against him this time. From what he'd seen on the ground, the soldiers manning this tower were little different from the government flunkies he'd taken on in droves back home.

So it was with mild shock (which for Arty generally means a mental "huh, that's odd" before going on about his business) that he burst into the hallway behind his companion to find five beings who he hadn't been able to sense before entering (assuming they're undead, as is implied in Khan's post). Or after entering, for that matter. There they stood in full combat regalia before him, well, three of them still stood, the other two were crumpling to the floor in a heap, and he couldn't feel a single electrical impulse in their entire bodies. Not living, and not robots either. Huh. He'd never killed a zombie before.

"...first time for everything!" He didn't even notice the gas as he sprang into action, thanks to the filters in his flat black mask, and the air crackled with electrical potential as he leapt forward, meeting the blade of the nearest guard with his own. They snapped and hissed on contact with one another, sparks flying into the faces of both combatants as nether-powered blade struggled against aether-powered blade, then the blades parted only to re-engage once more. God this guy was slow. Three rapid exchanges of blows later and a second zombie guard joined the fray, so Arty quit toying with them and erupted in a burst of motion so fast any human observer would only see a blur of motion one moment, then the heads of the two guards dropping to the floor the next. Along with their hands severed at the wrists, their arms severed at the elbows and shoulders, their legs severed at the hips and knees, and their feet severed at the ankles (though those weren't dropping to the floor so much as just... uh, staying there).

"Booyah. Walk away from that one, you undead freaks."

Good thing their armor wasn't enough to stop his energized blade, otherwise he might have had to get creative. He spun to face the third guard he knew was there even before the assorted pieces of the two he'd just dispatched reached the ground, though found that his ally had already taken care of that particular threat.

"So... Where to now? I can feel a couple people about twenty meters up, but that's all I can feel. These goons..." He kicked one of the motionless corpses. "...don't seem to run on electricity."

[MelonHead]

“Evidently. I would assume they are charged with the same unholy energy a saboteur I fought on Mystique was equipped with.” The Clockwork Man guessed, holstering his pistol after replacing three rounds he had unloaded into the back of Arty’s final opponent. Without any further speech, the Clockwork Man strode through the messy corridor past the corpses of every guard that had been set against the duo.

“We need to head up.” The Clockwork Man told Arty, when he reached the far end of the corridor and the predictably shut entry point to the higher levels. “And they should have invested in better security.” He added smugly, brushing one hand against the metallic shutter and sending a pulse of magic into its woefully undefended mainframe. The sharp spike momentarily shut down every system on the floor, before reactivating and rebooting, causing the door to jump upwards accommodatingly.

“I’m growing tired of this.” The Clockwork Man said darkly, his good humour rapidly disintegrating as his patience was tried. He began to exhume large quantities of Technomagic, permeating the walls and steps as he climbed, taking over sections of the strange technology with apparent ease. Before he even reached the top the sealing door had opened for him, leaving the way clear into the main room where he hoped the Mystan would be found.

“You have something of mine.” He called, making his intentions very clear as his pistol flew into his hand and began to whir.

[GreivousKhan]

The slow steady hum of spinning dials had begun to wind down as, one by one, more of the rings started to slow before coming to a stop. Each new symbol aglow with azure fire as their energies took shape. Unlike the negative energy of the Dark fey, the magic the Mystan wielded was arcane in nature. Adapting it to Detherkil technology had been no easy task Rarenrar was sure, but it seemed the elder had managed just as predicted. It was a good thing this room was mostly shielded too; else the energies would have been consumed by the nether that shrouded the tower.

Still despite their progress Rarenrar was sill impatient and by the looks of it Dinunir and Rycro were just as anxious. Just when he was about to tell the elder to speed things along the elder exclaimed. "It's done!"

Rarenrar smiled and exchanged looks with his fellow cultist as the last ring slowed to a stop. The runes now all alined perfectly glowed with a brighter intensity then before.

"We'll don't waste any time." Rarenrar said as he walked closer. "Open the gate."

The Elder Mystan shook his head however, whipping sweat from his wrinkled forehead. "We still lack a power source to stabilize the gate." He warned. "We will still have to wait for a lightening strik-"

Before the mystan could finish his sentence the dim lighting in the room brightened significantly while the light of the runes atop the control panel intensified. Rarenrar hands went to his weapon in alarm, as did the others.

"Tharchion, we're reading a massive energy spike from the upper levels. What's happening?"

Rarenrar wish he had an answer to that question, but whatever it was overcharged the rector that was to establish the gateway. The device had already begun to hum with renewed fury as it began to pierce the veil between worlds. Several meters before the control panel sparks of dark energy began to form, springing widely between four large obelisks like structures. The three cultists and Mystan stared in wonder with a mix of alarm as the sparks began to shape themselves into a sphere of silver. As it expanded in size, so did the activity of the sparks arching across its surface.

“Or that…could happen...” The mystan said hardly more than a whisper as he backed away from the control panel.

In little time the sphere had grown to the size of an average dark fey and was still growing when the large doors into the circular chamber opened. The spectacle had momentarily distracted Detherkil warriors who all whirled around at the sound of doors opening with a sigh, weapons in hand.

A man seemingly made of metal then marched in with what appeared to be a weapon of some kind in hand. Rycro already leveled his own crossbow shaped weapon, while Dinunir did the same. Rarenrar however had drawn both his blades standing in a tight combat stance.

Under squinted eyes Rarenrar regarded the automaton. "Who dares to desecrate these halls?"

[Schradinger]

"Uh, me and him. Thought that was kind of obvious..." Arty pointed a finger first at himself, then at robocop as each was mentioned. He'd stepped into the room behind the Clockwork Man to find three warrior looking types reacting to the sudden intrusion and drawing weapons. Two ranged ones that looked a bit like ancient crossbows (though given the ray guns being sported by the ground troops and the swords that could block his own energized blade he seriously doubted they were actually just crossbows), and two swords that were more than likely very similar in capability to those the guards they'd just killed had held (though these two were held by one man). "You must be the local badasses."

It was then that his gaze fell upon the elder-y looking fellow standing near the glowing console. His sword came up in a casual pointing gesture aimed at the old man. "One of these things is not like the others." He took a couple steps forward until he was in front of the Clockwork Man (who would probably want to shoot him for this, but hey... YOLO, right?) "If you wouldn't mind handing him over now, we'll leave you to your doomsday bomb and be on our way in peace." He held his arms out in a gesture of openness, inviting them to accept the offer. They didn't, so he dropped his arms and tightened his grip on the sword. "Or... We could leave you in pieces. Personally, I'm hoping you pick the second option."

[GreivousKhan]

Rarenrar eyed the stranger with the sword suddenly making demands. Rarenrar of course had already guessed their intentions. While he was surprised they had gotten this far he was mildly impressed to say the least. Rycro gritted his teeth in annoyance. "You dare come into our home and make demands of us Imperil spy?" Amethyst like gas swam around the edges of his crossbow weapon.

"Wait," Rarenrar began lifting a hand in Rycro's direction. "If they were with Angar-Rylla they wouldn't be here for the mystan." He turned back to the Automaton. "It would seem fate smiles upon you. As the mystan has completed his task there is no reason for us to keep him."

Dinunir shook. "But tharchion, are you certain?"

"I'm a man of my word. The mystan has completed his task." Rarenrar shifted his attention to the Elder. "So he is free to leave."

The old mystan hesitated for an instance looking from Rarenrar and the Clockwork Man before ambling over to him and the entrance. At this point the shifting mass of energy in the center of the ring was filled with opaque violet light, swirling and folding in on itself as if came from a luminescent cloud of vapor trapped in the confines of the circle of obelisk. Rarenrar knew this was for the best, not only did they no longer need the Technomage, a conflict this close to the epicenter of conflagration of space time could kill them all. That or warp them into random region all across the multiverse at best.

However, before the elder even reached his rescuers the sound of something like a crush of thunder sounded outside. Quickly followed by an echoing wail of rushing whining wind. The Detherkil warriors became wary as the sound became louder with each passing moment. Before Rarenrar could even guess the nature of the sound, the ground suddenly shook violently as a resounding boom rocked the entire tower. Rarenrar for his part nearly lost his balance, while the other two detherkil barely avoided pitching to the ground entirely. The shock wave quickly caused the Mystan to lose his balance and fall forward.

"What in the void was that?!" Rycro shouted over the ensuing alarms.

Rarenrar might have answered before his comm beeped."Tharchion! The Angar-Rylla have found us! We're under attack!"

Dammit! It was too soon! Rarenrar knew they were only left with one option. "Contact every detherkil and have them regroup in the high chambers." With the aftershocks dying down he turned his attention to the two intruders. "If you stand against the empire then stand and fight, if not, stay out of our way or die."

[MelonHead]

“This was a lot easier than I expected.” The Clockwork Man mused, taking a few steps past Arty and then carrying on to the Mystan, even as suddenly the tower shook with a vibration of significant scale. The Clockwork Man leapt forward with incredible and unexpected speed, seizing the Mystan with his left arm and pushing him back to his feet. He kept his pistol trained in the direction of the trio.

“Angar-Rylla…” The Clockwork Man exclaimed, turning back to look at Arty. “Empire with some unscrupulous practices and questionable motives.” He told his companion quickly, summing up his opinions on them with a few words. “It would seem these lot are against them.” He added pointlessly, looking at the Mystan and his companion quickly, his mind a whir with thought and calculations.

“The Mystan won’t survive if we try and take him back to the ship in the middle of a battle.” He summarised finally. “It would seem for a brief while we have a common cause.” The Clockwork Man added, nodding towards the trio.

“What can I do to help?” The Clockwork Man asked pragmatically of them, not assuming to ask for Arty who was still very much his own man. The Clockwork Man assumed retreat or evacuation wasn’t an option right now, his Technomagic was telling him something very important was in this room, and it wasn’t the sort that could be picked up and ran away with. He prepared himself for a fight.