Sprited Away (part 19)
Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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18th February
12:19 GMT -6
I'm moving at a jog on the grounds that -given the armour I'm wearing- me ramming into anything is going to be far worse for it than it is for me. While it wasn't obvious at the entrance, this far in it's pretty clear that someone has been visiting recently. And frequently. The dust on the floor is disturbed, there are traces of blood on one sharp piece of rock jutting out slightly from one wall, and I just saw a crisp packet from far more recently than this mine was closed.
I don't really know mines, but I'm a little surprised that a mine from this period of history is this large. The cuts in the rock don't look recent. Ring, what's up with that?
Data not found.
I skip that step and try and feel the internet through the ring. Nothing. A slight change in the focus of my desires and I easily access the ring's database, and a flick of my left hand shows that I can still make constructs…
"Area effect ward. Magic user."
"Good show. I've never seen a sheeda wizard before."
"Didn't think you had much to do with magic."
Beryl's hanging back a little while Dr Sivana is only a little behind me. He presses a button and his cupola moves from the middle of his mechanical assemblage to the rear, rotating so that he can look Beryl in the eye.
"Oh, you don't put any faith into that silly 'irreconcilability of magic and science' business, do you? Science isn't machinery, it's a wonderful process of examining, theorising and testing. Granted, physics is more my focus than sorcery, but I'm passingly familiar with a dozen magic traditions."
He holds up his right hand and… Conjures a small fireball for a moment, before closing his hand and snuffing it out.
"I've even summoned up the occasional demon. And dissected them, thus disproving my earlier theory that they were merely aliens from a parallel universe. Or at least, not in the sense that I'd imagined before."
Ring scans are working, but they become fuzzy and indistinct more than ten metres away. Area ward, and a fairly clever one. If I was setting something like this up I'd need runic markers throughout the area, while here there's nothing. I try a sonic scan, but-. The ground-penetrating system isn't picking up anything beyond the ten metre cut off, but there's a faint…
"…wasn't at all. It was smooth and things just flowed together…"
I know that voice. Nigel. He must have come almost straight here. He didn't exactly look like he was built for speed. Taking into account the echoes around the passageways I.. think he's this way.
I change directions, accelerating to a run and linking my scans straight to my armour's motor controls. I still don't know what's happening, but… He's talking to someone. Someone I strongly suspect to be either in control of the Spine Riders, or at least responsible for them. From what the witch-hunters told me, there's no way that Melmoth himself would live somewhere like this, but Nigel clearly came here in the belief that his contact would be here.
"Fret ye not, boy. Even with a power such as yours, there are ways to confound it."
That's a Witch World accent, though there's a rasping tone to it that the witch-hunters lacked. When Beulah ranted hellfire and damnation at me over the whole 'bringing people back from the dead' thing, she included a short soliloquy about the sort of evil magicians they usually went after. Since they end up as outcasts pretty darn quickly there isn't an underground society, but Columbia doesn't cover the whole of their world and there's plenty of room for them to flee to. Would one.. voluntarily work with their universally reviled grandfather?
…
If there's one thing I've learned in this job, it's that there's nothing so stupid or revolting that someone won't do it.
Wait a.. second. I remember… Something like this in the Seven Soldiers comic. Nigel… Could be the.. telepathic boy who fed his classmates to the sheeda thingies. But that was interrupted by Frankenstein and.. wherever he ended up it wasn't here. I don't remember why Melmoth was in town there… And there weren't any Mind Destroyers in that part of the comic.
"But that means that I can't know anything! I might as well not have this power!"
And the comic version didn't behave anything like that. I don't.. remember it well, but I think that he was confident and domineering. Nigel didn't appear to be that when we spoke earlier. Earlier in his personal timeline? Something else? Don't know. But unless I get good evidence that he's irredeemably compromised, I'll try and talk him down. The Witch Worlder on the other hand, he's going to have to talk fast or he's getting a ticket home. Where they burn people like him.
"You're becoming hysterical, lad! Even if one man is as you say, there are still-."
A wooden door set into recently worked stone, runes carved into the stonework. I create a railgun construct and fire once, the mage slayer easily wrecking whatever protections there were on the door a second before my fist wrecks the door itself, exploding the wood around the hinges into splinters!
The room beyond is… Decorated, if stone age barrow is your idea of decor. A man dressed in a smock and breeches sits on a stone chair, a strange maggot-like creature laying next to his right arm. His features remind me of Klarion in monster-mode, though his skin maintains the blue tint I remember from the witch-hunters. Long fingers splay out like crane fly legs across the ends of his seat's arm rests, his head is taller than it should be, the hair on top of it unnaturally solid. His eyes are human in proportion but compound, the pale blue clearly visible even in the low light.
Nigel clasps his hands to his chest, backing away from the entrance towards the corner of the room.
"You were not invited here."
"You're under arrest for offences relating to immigration violations and supervillainy. It may result in a more lenient punishment if you recall all of the Spine Riders and Mind Destroyers and set them to inactive."
"I could not, even if I wanted."
"Then I'm afraid that it's extradition back to Witch World. Do you know Beulah Bleak?"
"A quaestor, mayhap? A witch-hunter?"
"Got it in two. Last chance. Stand down or be stood down."
"Know you then the name of my master?"
"There are a few possible candidates, but I'm going to guess that you've sworn yourself to Melmoth. She called witch-men like you 'warlocks', because you broke the oath not to use the fey parts of your magic."
"A foolish commandment. As well to tell us to cut out our own eyes."
"Which I see that you've done."
"A side effect of this foolish curse." He shifts his weight slightly. "Know you then the name of the foe against which King Melmoth would lead us?"
"The sheeda. His people, who ravage the past to sustain themselves."
"Then why do you interfere? The time of their assault draws near, and the King applies the whole of his cunning into building weapons with which we may fight them."
"If that were true then he'd have introduced himself openly to the local superheroes. Or governments."
"Bah!"
"Fine. Explain yourself in Belle Reve."
I take suppression chains out of subspace and advance-.
His maggot hurls itself at my face!
12:19 GMT -6
I'm moving at a jog on the grounds that -given the armour I'm wearing- me ramming into anything is going to be far worse for it than it is for me. While it wasn't obvious at the entrance, this far in it's pretty clear that someone has been visiting recently. And frequently. The dust on the floor is disturbed, there are traces of blood on one sharp piece of rock jutting out slightly from one wall, and I just saw a crisp packet from far more recently than this mine was closed.
I don't really know mines, but I'm a little surprised that a mine from this period of history is this large. The cuts in the rock don't look recent. Ring, what's up with that?
Data not found.
I skip that step and try and feel the internet through the ring. Nothing. A slight change in the focus of my desires and I easily access the ring's database, and a flick of my left hand shows that I can still make constructs…
"Area effect ward. Magic user."
"Good show. I've never seen a sheeda wizard before."
"Didn't think you had much to do with magic."
Beryl's hanging back a little while Dr Sivana is only a little behind me. He presses a button and his cupola moves from the middle of his mechanical assemblage to the rear, rotating so that he can look Beryl in the eye.
"Oh, you don't put any faith into that silly 'irreconcilability of magic and science' business, do you? Science isn't machinery, it's a wonderful process of examining, theorising and testing. Granted, physics is more my focus than sorcery, but I'm passingly familiar with a dozen magic traditions."
He holds up his right hand and… Conjures a small fireball for a moment, before closing his hand and snuffing it out.
"I've even summoned up the occasional demon. And dissected them, thus disproving my earlier theory that they were merely aliens from a parallel universe. Or at least, not in the sense that I'd imagined before."
Ring scans are working, but they become fuzzy and indistinct more than ten metres away. Area ward, and a fairly clever one. If I was setting something like this up I'd need runic markers throughout the area, while here there's nothing. I try a sonic scan, but-. The ground-penetrating system isn't picking up anything beyond the ten metre cut off, but there's a faint…
"…wasn't at all. It was smooth and things just flowed together…"
I know that voice. Nigel. He must have come almost straight here. He didn't exactly look like he was built for speed. Taking into account the echoes around the passageways I.. think he's this way.
I change directions, accelerating to a run and linking my scans straight to my armour's motor controls. I still don't know what's happening, but… He's talking to someone. Someone I strongly suspect to be either in control of the Spine Riders, or at least responsible for them. From what the witch-hunters told me, there's no way that Melmoth himself would live somewhere like this, but Nigel clearly came here in the belief that his contact would be here.
"Fret ye not, boy. Even with a power such as yours, there are ways to confound it."
That's a Witch World accent, though there's a rasping tone to it that the witch-hunters lacked. When Beulah ranted hellfire and damnation at me over the whole 'bringing people back from the dead' thing, she included a short soliloquy about the sort of evil magicians they usually went after. Since they end up as outcasts pretty darn quickly there isn't an underground society, but Columbia doesn't cover the whole of their world and there's plenty of room for them to flee to. Would one.. voluntarily work with their universally reviled grandfather?
…
If there's one thing I've learned in this job, it's that there's nothing so stupid or revolting that someone won't do it.
Wait a.. second. I remember… Something like this in the Seven Soldiers comic. Nigel… Could be the.. telepathic boy who fed his classmates to the sheeda thingies. But that was interrupted by Frankenstein and.. wherever he ended up it wasn't here. I don't remember why Melmoth was in town there… And there weren't any Mind Destroyers in that part of the comic.
"But that means that I can't know anything! I might as well not have this power!"
And the comic version didn't behave anything like that. I don't.. remember it well, but I think that he was confident and domineering. Nigel didn't appear to be that when we spoke earlier. Earlier in his personal timeline? Something else? Don't know. But unless I get good evidence that he's irredeemably compromised, I'll try and talk him down. The Witch Worlder on the other hand, he's going to have to talk fast or he's getting a ticket home. Where they burn people like him.
"You're becoming hysterical, lad! Even if one man is as you say, there are still-."
A wooden door set into recently worked stone, runes carved into the stonework. I create a railgun construct and fire once, the mage slayer easily wrecking whatever protections there were on the door a second before my fist wrecks the door itself, exploding the wood around the hinges into splinters!
The room beyond is… Decorated, if stone age barrow is your idea of decor. A man dressed in a smock and breeches sits on a stone chair, a strange maggot-like creature laying next to his right arm. His features remind me of Klarion in monster-mode, though his skin maintains the blue tint I remember from the witch-hunters. Long fingers splay out like crane fly legs across the ends of his seat's arm rests, his head is taller than it should be, the hair on top of it unnaturally solid. His eyes are human in proportion but compound, the pale blue clearly visible even in the low light.
Nigel clasps his hands to his chest, backing away from the entrance towards the corner of the room.
"You were not invited here."
"You're under arrest for offences relating to immigration violations and supervillainy. It may result in a more lenient punishment if you recall all of the Spine Riders and Mind Destroyers and set them to inactive."
"I could not, even if I wanted."
"Then I'm afraid that it's extradition back to Witch World. Do you know Beulah Bleak?"
"A quaestor, mayhap? A witch-hunter?"
"Got it in two. Last chance. Stand down or be stood down."
"Know you then the name of my master?"
"There are a few possible candidates, but I'm going to guess that you've sworn yourself to Melmoth. She called witch-men like you 'warlocks', because you broke the oath not to use the fey parts of your magic."
"A foolish commandment. As well to tell us to cut out our own eyes."
"Which I see that you've done."
"A side effect of this foolish curse." He shifts his weight slightly. "Know you then the name of the foe against which King Melmoth would lead us?"
"The sheeda. His people, who ravage the past to sustain themselves."
"Then why do you interfere? The time of their assault draws near, and the King applies the whole of his cunning into building weapons with which we may fight them."
"If that were true then he'd have introduced himself openly to the local superheroes. Or governments."
"Bah!"
"Fine. Explain yourself in Belle Reve."
I take suppression chains out of subspace and advance-.
His maggot hurls itself at my face!
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