Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Statistics
We looked inside some of the posts by numeneramalcoharly and here's what we found interesting.
Average Info
Notes Per Post
0
Likes Per Post
0
Reblog Per Post
0
Reply Per Post
0
Time Between Posts
2 days
Number of Posts By Type
Text
14
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Tumblrâs website traffic is steadily declining.
Text
Part 13: Descent
Darrion slipped in first, his thin frame brushing past the thick rocky spikes. Then went Gaven, then Ofra, the Tactus, and lastly Malco. Malco stayed behind the Tactus to help pull it back out in case itâs long body wasnât able to fit through the cramped hole, but apparently there was no need because Malco just stood back and watched as the chitinous sections just slid into the earth until the were obscured by a turn in the rock. Malco took a deep breath. ..... âHAAAaaaaaaâ and began to descend. The rocks banged his elbows as he moved, pinched his sides, and blocked his knees as he searched for foot holds. The tunnel was not even close to straight down but soon after the first turn everything had gone dark. As his body began to fatigue from the exorcise he could no longer hear the sounds of his the rest of his expedition below him over his own laborious breaths. Malco, was utterly alone. Seconds stretched into minutes, which stretched into hours, each time he had to rotate around the bottomless cliff to find a foot hold felt like an entire day went by. It was warm in the pits, it felt like an oven. maybe it was just the exorcise, but Malco didnât care at the moment, he just wanted it over with! There were two occasions where Malco found a corpse pinned between the stones. One was an Ithsyn which had been unlucky enough to fall down the hole a awhile back, its long blue neck shredded and caught between a particularly sharp crack in the rock. The other was a woman, she seemed to be carrying a large amount of gear on her, gear the got snagged on the stone and pinned her to the cave, she probably died of dehydration. Malco couldnât see enough of her to know if he knew her. Maybe she was on the last expedition, the one that didnât make it. Malco doubted it, but he couldnât be sure, the darkness would probably hold that womanâs identity a secret for all eternity. Far below the world above. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âSo why is it called The Crypt anyway?â Gaven looked down at the map Darrion had drawn out before them, ink still wet. âThatâs because allot of poor souls fall into the pits that lead down to it and get stuck along the way.â Darrion put the pen back into the block of liquid ink floating near his head. âWhen we go in, we have to make absolutely sure weâre not taking anything that can get snagged. Otherwise we might die down there.â Darrion stretched his arms out and looked upon the group. They were in Malcoâs house, just days before they had to leave for the Valley of Sin. Darrion knew he volunteered for this job, but was having second thoughts. He didn't like going to the Crypt.  He didnât lie to the group, many unlucky adventurers or wandering beasts fell into the caves and died, but the real reason why it was called The Crypt was because his dad was buried there. Locked away in a cyber coffin, deep below the drit, just as he had wanted. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Maclo slipped. The fall was short. He was able to catch himself with his magnetism, if it wasnât for the fact that he had been practicing for so long, he might have died much like the Ithsyn still above him, his body torn open by the sharp, all consuming rocks. He reach out for the tuft of fur at the end of his pole... but it wasnât there. He had left the pole back above ground. It would have been too big to take into the Crypt anyways Gaven was barely able to carry his sword through and the pole was a good length and a half longer than that. The absence of the fur bothered him, not because it felt nice. No on the contrary it had grown coarse and ragged with age, but because it reminded him of a time when things were simpler. Times when the fate of Malcoâs little world wasnât in jeopardy, back when he still lived with his family. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âWhen alone in the dark, one must learn to face themselves. You canât run away from it, because thereâs nothing to run away from. Itâs just you.... and the dark. See, people have this strange habit. When something badâs about to happen we close are eyes. Weâve all done it. We hide inside ourselves and block out the truth of the world around us. To hide within our fantasies and pretend that everything's going to be okay. That the world isnât as dark as we think it is. But when you close your eyes to hide from the darkness, the only thing youâll discover is that the darkness was already inside you. ... I like the dark. Iâve been crawling through caveâs and ditches since I was a little kid. My dad threw me into random pits and forced me to get out on my own.... I learned allot from him, he was always an honest man. I could see the worry on his face as he watched me climb from the tiny holes he dug. I could see the joy on his face as I brought back weird machines I found combing the fields. I could see the sadness on his face as mother left us and took my siblings with her. He was always an honest man. Perhaps thatâs why I like the dark. Some say it obscures the world, that it hides the true nature of how things are. But I disagree, maybe itâs just me, but when Iâm in the dark.... When Iâm locked away with nothing but my thoughts and worries... Iâm the most honest man Iâm ever going to be.â                                                    ~ Darrion ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gaven could feel the warmth of his blade leak through the scabbard as it brushed against his leg. Normally it was comforting, now it just added heat to the inferno around him. The tunnels in the Crypt were unnaturally warm, even the tunnels he had explored for the rocks he used to cook with weren't this hot. If he hadnât been warned of this before hand, he might have tried to descend wearing all his gear, and might have died of heatstroke before even setting foot in the Crypt. Darrion said it got better once you reached the caverns, that the land was naturally expelling heat away from the machine below, or so it seemed. The bodies were disturbing, but it wasnât anything Gaven hadnât seen before. He thought Ofra had stopped a ways above him, for he couldnât hear her incessant complaining about the manual labor she had to preform, but that might have just been a trick formed from the fact that he could only hear his own breaths and grunts as he slowly crawled down the shaft. He wasnât as thin as the rest of them, his elbows scarped along the walls, leaving slight trails of blood as the chalky spirals cut into him. What he wouldnât give for some plate armor, or at least some knee pads right now. Maybe heâd fashion some once they got back to the surface. The glass blades could be warped under the heat of his sword, so heâd be able to bend it easily. He paused for a sip of water, it was already warm... disgusting. He dropped a small ball into the waterskin and the liquid began to cool, but it took awhile to take effect. As he waited he began to watch up above him, he found a nice resting spot where he was able to prop his back against the wall and stand with his arms free at his side. Though he would have to move once the shrimp caught up to him. He didnât see her. Maybe she stopped after all. Maybe a gap was too large, or she found something on the body. Gaven didnât think she could resist looting a corpse for itâs cyphers. Gaven thought it rude since he already had what he needed back at camp and on his person, but to each their own. He took a sip from the skin again. Nice and cold. Heâd have to be careful not to swallow the bead, wouldnât want his stomach juices freezing, but it was well worth the risk. He screwed the top back on and began to crawl down the rest of the pit. He cracked his sword a bit before he left to see if the light would be able to catch any of the other climbers. None. Gaven shrugged, and carried on, waiting patiently to reach the bottom. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âNo plan survives first contact with the enemy, and your greatest enemy is yourself. In all my years of wandering around the world, Iâve found that the most common reason for someone to die out in the wilderness is not because of random chance or poor planning, but because they didnât execute the plan correctly. Iâm not saying fear is a bad thing. No, fear is what has kept me alive for so long, but when someone diverts from the plan because they begin to panic, thatâs when people die, and itâs usually more than just the person who panicked in the first place.â                                           ~Gaven Selby ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The body felt new. Skin, fare. Clothes, clean. Muscles, hardened but movable.  These were not the traits of a body long lost to the world above. As Ofra continued her examination of the body, she began to search the corpses tools. There were a few pings of Numenera that caught her attention as she scanned it. A few cyphers, a circular synth disc that needed to be identified later, and some sort of large ring with devices along the edge. Aside from those, the person had a few rations, and some vials of various liquids that were a toss between enhancement drugs, and poisons. She would have to ask Gaven about them later. She could already hear the swordsman calling her shrimp now. Ohhhh did she wish that when Darrion measured Gavenâs blade that it wouldâve ended up to long, but no, the chef got to keep his prized knife and she had to leave Avis behind. The world wasnât fair. if it was, she would have been blessed with the height of her siblings, but she stood a measly 4 lengths off the ground to the tip of the skull. Though what it took from her height, it gave back to her mind. She was smart, always had been, and loved to tinker. She used her small frame to climb into holes as a kid and find different Iotum and use it to craft cool machines for her family. Aswalys crafting, always working. That was her motto, her outlook on life. Awhile back she met the Tactus, a charming fellow who shared the same interests as her. They could talk for hours with each other about how different Iotum reacted with one another, or how the properties of some Iotum made them better for powered or non powered machines. Each conversation she had with him was the best she ever had, and he couldnât even talk. As she finished picking through the bodies remains, she began to descend deeper into the pit below. Her small size would normally be a hindrance for climbs like these, but she had a series of small mechanical needle like arms that extended from the back of the hands and feet. She came up with the idea from watching the Tactus walk. It has saved her massive amounts of time when searching through holes. Giving her the ability to climb even nearly flat surfaces with ease. As she left the body above her, she said a prayer, nothing fancy, one of the many hundreds of prayers for safe passing to the afterlife that she knew. She selected one from a tribe of abhumans that live far north of here in a series of mountains that occasionally raise into the air for months at a time. The abhumans drop their dead through shoots in the ground while the mountain is floating. Then as the mountain descends it buries the bodies deep below the ground. the tribe believed that when a person died, their soul began a journey to the center of the world. Once there the soul met with the creator of the known existence and melded with itâs body to become one with the land around us. They buried the bodies in this manor so that the souls could have a head start on their journey to the core, she thought it appropriate. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âWhen the last one of us hit the floor of the Crypt, I let out a sigh of relief. It had only been an hour, but it had felt like an entire day had passed. We stood in the cooled chamber and drank from our waterskins. Gaven pulled out his sword and used it as a torch, lighting up the passage with a bright blue glow. Moss covered the wall, and the floor was littered with small shrubs containing the bright red fruit that was seen on the surface. I donât know how the fruit made the journey up from the Crypt down below. it seems impossible for a small plant to make the journey that nearly exhausted 5 able-bodied people, but stranger things have happened. Our time in the darkness had begun, and it was going to be allot longer than we expected.â                                                    ~Ofra ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 12: Into the Valley
As the bay sled moved over the land, the only noise it made was the clattering of boots as people walked or shifted inside it. Darrion and Ofra were looking through some devices that allowed them to survey the area. Gaven was resting near the back making sure the teams belongings stayed secured, and Tactus was coiled up in the corner hanging his torso over the edge scanning the drit below them for useful parts. From the sled, Malco could see the shape of Acelâs windrider circling over them like a scavenger. Acel was the true reconnaissance unit after all, and had a cartridge that would produce a large Numenera charged cloud of green smoke that would be used as a signal in case the team was in trouble, and if that failed, Acel was told to abandon them. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âThe windrider circling above our heads reminded us that death could come at any moment. I mean no ill will to Acel when I say that. He was only trying to help...           but itâs disturbing to think that youâre entering a land so perilous that the only way someone could help you, was for that person to leave you to die so that they can get someone else to collect your bones once the monsters left.â                                                 ~Gaven Selby ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- After about 4 hours of travel into the Valley of Sin, the team found the location they would be spending the next month in, the ravaged land. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âAs we went over the 20th or so hill of bog, we realized how advantageous the sled was. I was able to keep us high enough to escape any altercations the mist could bring us. It was tough, but I think I should be able to do the same with a full sled as well.    You should have seen how the ravaged land looked in the morning sun. The grass had been torn away, leaving miles of chalky stone filled with tiny spiraling holes that led into the drit. Most were tiny, like a sponge, but some split the earth into massive toothy maws ready to swallow people that walked inside. Darrion knew the place well, said that predators avoided the place. He was right....                                    Everything avoided that place.     The calls of birds went silent, the winds died down, and the plants refused to grow. All that remained were those tiny ball like fruit, ruby in color, and no bigger than a small glass bead. Darrion warned us never to eat the fruit, but with that many people stuck in one place for that long, someone had to try.....                                                               I just wished we had listened.â                                                ~Malco Harley ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The ground crunched below their feet as they walked, their clothes sticking to their bodies from sweat. Some fared better than other, Ofra floated around in Avis, and if Gaven was feeling the least bit uncomfortable by the difficult terrain, he didnât show it. The Tactus walked before them, itâs many chitinous legs easily flowing over the fractured landscape. When the ground opened up into bottomless pits, the Tactus walked over them, allowing the others to use his body like a bridge. When the ground shot up into a massive cliff, the Tactus moved its legs like a ladder and allowed them to climb. From this point on, movement was slow. They left the sled back at the base, they wouldnât need it for awhile and wanted to make sure that even if Malco died, they could still make it back out. They were walking out towards their excavation site. A place Darrion knew by heart, a series of tiny interlocking tunnels that Darrion called the âThe Cryptâ. They stretched far below the surface, deep into what Darrion claimed to be massive caverns of Iotum, they sprawled out far below the porous rock above. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âWhen we came across the entrance to the crypt, there were a few laughs of nervousness as people began to realize the reality of the situation. Each time we came across a cave, we wondered if our trip was finished. Each time we saw a rift through the drit that descended into the darkness below, we knew it was finished, all of us except Darrion that is. He just kept skipping along, jumping the pits and clinging to handholds, like he was greeting an old friend.                             Just how many times had he been out here. Those caves, those rifts, we crossed on our way to the crypt, those would have been a godsend compared to where Darrion decided to finally descend.â                                                         ~Ofra ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When he stopped, Darrion waved for Acel to land, he wanted to make sure that Acel knew exactly where they were going. The hole Darrion pointed out in the drit was no larger than the body of a slightly larger adult human. The edges were spiked, and grasped at the air like the teeth of some horrid monster. Near the opening was a small circle made out of some kind of purple paint that was drawn onto the rock. âThis,â Darrion stated pointing to the incredibly cramped hole in the ground, âis the Crypt.â ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- âIt was surprising that the Tactus was able to fit in at all, apparently itâs body can be squished and still function normally, Avis wasnât going to fit inside, so Ofra had to continue down on foot. Acel stayed above so he could warn the others if we didnât make it back up before sundown.                                      It wasnât until nearly 3 months later we found out that he had indeed called for help, but....                                                               Well, we decided we wouldnât ever talk about that again.â                                             ~Gaven Selby ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 11: At The Valleyâs Edge
Malco stared up at the roof of his tent. Watching the shadows dance along the surface from the glow pit outside. He could hear the chatter of the expedition members as they sat next to the glow pit, and smell the meat as it cooked along the surface of the hot glowing stones. The camp his team had made was small, except for the large metal bay sled they had forged from a section of the scrapped thunder tower project. There were no aneen pulling the bay sled, there didn't need to be. Malco now had the power to push it by himself. The bay sled fit all 6 members of their expedition team and any potential heaps of iotum they find with hopefully room to spare. The Sled wasnât as fast as say, Axelâs wing rider, which they used to scout up ahead of the sled, but it didnât need to be. Malco's team wasn't going to go as far into the Valley as many of the others, they were going to go for quantity not quality. It suited the teamâs power set better. Malco was the leader of the group, albeit unwillingly. Nieten and Dora wanted him to have some âLeadership Practiceâ Since he had been a part of the town guard for so long. Below him was the teamâs iotum expert. Ofra: A small girl with a knack for the Numenera. She spent most of the day in her personal transfer device she called Avis. A small metal sphere about 8 lengths in diameter that floated around 5 lengths above whatever ground was below it while inactive. There was a hatch for the small Wright to climb inside, and enough room for her and a few possessions, which seemed to mostly be composed of tools she needed to craft, graft, and mine. Ofra was rare breed among the Wrights, she not only built, but she also harvested most of her own ingredients. Granted this was because Avis gave her an advantage over some of the newer Wrightâs, but nearly all of the high level Wrightâs had some sort of personal transportation they built themselves. Avis was made for aerial travel, and could travel considerably fast in a singular direction, provided there was no barrier to stop it. The metal outside was lined with tiny machines of Ofraâs design, most helped her perceive the world from inside the device, but some were made to specifically fill special nicheâs during the harvesting process. At one point Ofra decided that Avis needed a consumption deterrent mechanism, so she covered it in tiny lightning emitters that could shock objects on the outside. Malco found it hard to believe something could swallow Avis in one gulp, he hadnât seen any beast that was that large. Though the supposed âConsumption Deterrentâ worked as a very effective donât touch me machine. Ofra had a saying, âIf a machine only does one job, then itâs already failing at it!â It was unclear if this philosophy carried over into her relationships with other people. Next down the chain of command was Gaven, the âmuscleâ of the crew. He was by far the best fighter on the team, though never cared to show it off. Gaven had brought the stones with him. He had found them on a previous journey deep below the drit. In a series of tunnels filled with large red and blue crustaceans that hovered and used weapons forged from the same kind of stones. Actually a few of the stones in the pit were actually chunks of their blades that he had broken off in some of the many fights he had with them. The long blade he carried was forged from the stones. When he pulled it from itâs sheath it glowed a bright sky blue and distorted the air around it with itâs heat. He called it the stardrit.... Unlike the way of the blade, creativity and subtly were not one of Gavenâs specialties. Though oddly cooking was. As he sat near the edge of pit of blue glowing stones, he tossed bits of meat upon them and watched them sear. If the camp was the expeditions foothold at the edge of the Valley, then the chefâs seat was Gavenâs foothold at the edge of the pit. He had three floating cabinets lined with vials, each vial containing specific spices. Some of which, he admitted, were poisonous. He had a long metal bar with a fork at the end to flip the meat as it cooked, being careful not to let it burn. He even had a few bottles of choice sauces that he had either purchased or discovered on his journey. Gaven was a true culinary swordsman. The smell of his food alone was enough to eliminate all doubt. The members agreed he was necessary to the team, and possibly all their teams there after. Then came Darrion. Yes Darrion, the soapbox hero himself was on the team. Since the Margr strike on Ellomyr, Darrion had given up on trying to convince people to leave. it was even said that he walked up to Dora alone and apologized for his actions up until that point. Darrion seemed to think he was the one who should have died amongst the war of Margr rather than some of the warriors who gave their all from the start. A feeling Malco found easy to relate to. Having Darrion on the team made Malco feel closer to home, especially with all the wanderers that made up his expedition group. It was nice to have a childhood friend come along. Even if said childhood friend used to wake him up in the morning by screaming about the encroaching death of everything they had ever loved.... Darrion had learned to rummage from working under Doraâs dad, much like how Doraâs kids do today. Like Malco he was on the scrawny side, which made it easier for him to climb down into rifts to look for rare iotum, and that wasnât all he was good for either. Darrion knew how to track and avoid the local predators. Darrionâs dad used to be the village huntsman before he died of disease a few years back. He would take Darrion out on excursions for weeks at a time and bring back carts of meat. One of those places, was the Valley of Sin. it was a dangerous place, but since no people went to the edge of the Valley, the game there was plentiful. The last member was Tactus. Often referred to as âThe Tactusâ or âTactus the Disturbedâ it is unknown what Tactus is. The Tactus canât speak, though it has three mouths, this is because it lacks the parts to form words. It interacts with others only through hand jesters. Often making conversations with new individuals last for long amounts of time as it teaches them how it speaks. Provided they even want to talk to such a creature in the first place. The top half of Tactus is shaped like a bald, blue skinned, human male, except for the mouth region which sports many plated mandibles, and the hands which have extra mouths in their palms. The lower half of the Tactus, is long like a Queb. Though instead of a soft furry body, the Tactusâes body is covered in shiny purple plates that brake it into many different segments, each lined with many pointed legs. These segments lead to a large stinger in the back of the Tactus which it uses to defend itself if things get dire. For every once of horror the Tactus brought to the party, it paid back in full with how useful it was. Tactus had shown up in Ellomyr with Ofra, she had apparently found âhimâ rummaging through the badlands that surrounded a set of liquid metal geysers. The metal produced by these geyserâs was so toxic, a normal person had to wear a special air tight suit in order to get close, but Tactus was apparently fine. It even waded through the metal to grab objects to sell back at the nearby village. Apprently the village was taking adtantage of its powers and giving it very low amounts of money for the iotum it came back with. So Ofra took it along, and they have been paired ever since. The Tactusâes long body, is useful for it can climb up cliffs, and across ravines with ease, allowing other people to walk across itâs back. It seems to be immune to all forms of poison, since it has shown no signs of damage from any organic, or man made substance that it has come in contact with. The final thing it can do is that it can apparently quell the Numenera in a short area around its body, making devices easier to use. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Orfa, suspects that there used to be a ton of Tactus everywhere. That they may have been creatures made to work on some sort of ancient machine, and this one happened to be lost, or maybe it was an experiment gone horribly wrong and wound up in a super being. Either way it is currently on the team, which seems like a blessing for the time being.                                        ~Malco Harley ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Malco continued to wait inside his tent, going over the plan for the next morning. The camp they had made was approximately 3 hours away from the Valley of Sin. Malco decided to rest near the edge tonight and leave early in the morning to maximize scavenging time. He had heard allot about the Valley of Sin from the previous expositions a year before. He hadn't gone himself because he was resting at the time, but this time he was forced to go by his superiors. There were many other groups that went out into the Valley, Hiero and his warriors, Aethir and the Wrights, Arkwiss and his crawler, but Malcoâs had a less grand objective. It was a test to see how far he'd grown since the year before. Malco took a deep breath, concerned about what lied ahead, and reached his mind out towards the set of metal balls that rested in his pocket and began to move them. Using his powers still made him feel uneasy, they didn't bring back fond memories. Just the feelings of his own inadequacy when compared with his masters. The balls trembled in the air, a slight nervous stutter was deeply embedded in their movement. There was a time when Malco thought he should have just ended it all, but ever since the time when Hiero pulled him from his house like a scavenger crab from itâs shell, Malco had been improving.
He still felt the voices in his head. He felt them when he sat alone in the darkness while working on the tower. He would often have outbursts which would cause him to temporarily lose control of his power. He caught himself often enough, but still decided to wear safety ropes whenever possible. He tried to stabilize the orbs. He had nothing to fear yet. The trip was already turning out to be a success! While traveling over here they found a few things to bring back to the village. Large serrated mesh glass blades, capable of cutting through most materials, and far more durable than most metals, the blades would make fine weapons if forged correctly. A few small pale orbs that when vibrated caused them to move high above the ground as if they were weightless. They even found the parts to an old forgotten merchantâs crawler, nothing like what the nano Arkwiss had, but maybe with some time the parts could be recycled to forge a grand vehicle for the town. The sound of a high pitched musical note rang from outside the tent. âDinnerâs done! Anyone who doesnât want burned meat, better get over to the pit in the next minute or so or no promises!â Gaven called out to the group from his seat, adding the finishing touches to his plate of food. It only took 15 secounds to gather everyone around the glow pit. Dinner was fantastic that night, everyone told stories and laughed the night away. They got every once of merriment they could get out of the moment. because tomorrow they have to enter the Valley of Sin. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 10: Prologue
Nieten's words were true. They town was thinking about another expedition to the Valley of Sin. At least they were, until 3 hours ago. Wounded wanderers stood in the streets, weapons raised, getting ready to march right out of Ellomyr and into the valley. They sung chants of rage and glory, death and sorrow. Each voice fueling the flames of righteousness as they walked through the square.
But Calistina stopped them. She commanded her flames to form a barrier in the streets. Her fire snuffing out the week willed flames of the poor manâs chorus, even the wandererâs feared her power. Then in one of the most uncharacteristically commanding actions he made in his life, Gurner Fron, stepped out from his house and into the plaza. It wasnât unusual for Gurner to walk the city, no, the unusual part was where he chose to walk. The path Gurner took was no accident, with what seemed like calculated poise, or as much as he could muster at his age, he stepped right through the anxious horde and to the front of their pack. Then once he got in front of them, turned, and stood right next to the woman of fire. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ âAs he walked, every footfall took a century, every light tap of his cane sounded like the explosion of a hundred bombs, as each one echoed through the silent courtyard. As he reached Calistinaâs side, he straightened his posture, and cleared his throat, and as he spoke, the crumpled man before us, turned into a giant. A giant whose voice danced and sung with the melodic tones of the Trilling shard. When Gurner Fron spoke that morning,                                    Ellomyr spoke with him.â                                              ~Zori Orvadin                                        Traveling Poet ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gurner cleared his throat again, adjusting his collar with the hand not currently resting on his cane. "Many apologizes glorious adventurers, for the man that is standing before you today is not the tactician Brucha. He is not the determined Dora, the faithful Nieten, and though I stand with her now, he is not the fire breather Calistina. No, the man who stands before you is Gurner Fron, the frail storyteller to the young ones, and although some would think ill advised, leader of Ellomyr.â His voice carried like a raging storm, suppressing what remained of everyoneâs urge to make a sound deep within them. âI know very well how you all speak of me. Many of you standing in this plaza now would rather see me step down as leader then stand before you today. You think that in some way, Iâm not... Right, for Ellomyr.â He had a hard time saying that sentence, as if it truly pained him. âI am here to tell you that I will do no such thing. Ellomyr has always been my responsibility ever since I was a young lad tending to the Gallen herds. When I was young the leader before me wore a thick fur coat, even in the summer. He carried a thick wooden cane, much like I do today, and smoked from a long bone pipe. A habit I am happy to say I have refrained from for over 80 years.â He rested his hands on his cane as if recalling the man in question. âBut there is one thing I never took out of our fair town, and that was the stories he told. I woke up every morning just as he did, and rubbed my bones until the soreness and pain went away. Just as I assume he must of done for me. I walked out of my house each and every day despite my age and told the kids stories. I told them stories of grandeur, of the adventures of the nano Arkwiss, of the shard you see before you from behind the weaverâs house.â Gurner gestured to the shard which was sticking up and over the houses, its jagged shape dominating the skyline. âBut, now I fear many of those stories will cease to exist. Look at the people around, how many stand before you? A little over a hundred? Two Hundred?â people began to glance over at one another. âHow many people were here the week before the Margr struck. How many people were put into the ground by those rabid abhumans, and how many more of you stand teetering at the doors of death even as we speak. Humans, never claimed to be a strong creature. We tend to die when exposed to the conflicts of violence or disease, our stories snuffed out before we have a chance to even begin them. Even now the only reason you move is because you fear that any one of you could be the next one served as a meal to the Margr hordes. I ask you to take a good look around you. What do you see. Holes? Debris? Well those do in fact exist in abundance, but let me tell you what I see. I see houses, still standing, with families to fill them. I see the fields that were spared from the Margr flames, still bearing crops with farmers to work them. I see hundreds of people who barely know each other standing together in the plaza outside my house, each one ready to march into a horrific territory AGAIN in the pursuit of a common goal. I see Ellomyr, and how much itâs changed. Gone are the days of Ellomyr being the small farming town it was two years ago. That chapter has come to a close,but in its place, the book has opened to a new one. Have you not all realized that each and every one of you could have left Ellomyr if you wanted to? No one is holding you here, the roads you took to get here still work perfectly fine. The Margr have left, and yes they will march again, but not for some time, and if they did, would you really want to be here to receive them? Many of you lost both brothers and sisters in that battle. Would you really risk it again? Even after knowing that? I know you have lost many precious lives to the Margr threat. I have walked through the memorials nearly 2 dozen times, I have walked among the graves, have asked the dead my questions, and have spoken my final words, knowing full well that there would be no answers. those stories have been lost to the rest of the book. So I beseech you all here today to not go to the Valley of Sin. Do not be rash in your quest for revenge. Do not end your story prematurely. Build, expand, fortify, entrench. Make this town a fortress, that would rival any of the great cities in the steadfast! So that when those rabid blood thirsty Margr comeback! We will be prepared to receive them. Not as Ellomyr, the small farming village, no, but as Ellomyr, the bastion of humanity.â He let the audience hang onto the sentence just long enough that some eager listeners began to applaud, then he wiped the sweat from his brow, and started again. âI know the man standing before you is not the man you wanted to see. I do not have Bruchaâs affinity for the art of war, I do not have Doraâs youth that drives her forward, and I do not have Nietenâs unending strength, but there are some things I do have. I have my voice, which speaks for everyone, new and old, who has walked the streets of Ellomyr. I have my words, which have touched the hearts of the youths of Ellomyr since long before most of you were born. I have my heart, which cares for every single citizen of Ellomyr no matter how hated and despised. And I have my mind, which knows that I alone will no longer be able to guide Ellomyr along the path it has chosen.â Gurner stretched a hand out to the quelled mob, the light shining on his old and balding head. âJoin me fellow citizens of Ellomyr, let us guide this town through the new chapter that lies before us! We have only made it through the prologue! By the time were done, when the Aeon Priests eventually come and gaze upon the sight of Ellomyr, they will gawk in amazement! They will be blown away by the mirical that all you here helped forge with your own two hands!â Gurner shook a bit as he grabbed for his cane. One of his attendants brought a chair for him to sit in, the tall man that stood before them was once again small and helpless. Like a baby Ithsyn, who had yet to grow into the viscous threat the world had destined him to one day become.â A person form the crowd began to clap, then another, and another, soon most if not all the people present, were clapping and hollering Gurnerâs name from the court yard. Some even walked up and shook his hand, reintroducing themselves to the ancient storyteller. Otherâs however didnât care for Gurnerâs ideals and tried to go along with their plans, or leave Ellomyr entirely. Many of those that went into the valley of sin that year, either didnât comeback, or found nothing useful. None of them had any traction among the populace. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gurner walked the streets more than usual after that day. He stopped and questioned every resident who came to Ellomyr about their life, adventures, and over philosophies, and wrote them in a large tome he called âThe Trilling Shard: a Guide to Ellomyr and itâs People.â When he died some time later, the people of Ellomyr continued his tradition, expanding the tome to over five different volumes. Every pen that touched those pages, every name or thought written in those books, was a part of Ellomyr. A part of itâs story. As Gurner had said, Ellomyrâs story was just beginning, we only made it through the prologue. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Even now, years later, we are still unsure if that voice that spoke with such strength that it shook the glass in windows, and parted the very clouds above him was a feat of might or sorcery. Calisitina never admitted to amplifying the old manâs voice, nor did she appear to be capable of preforming such a feat to begin with. Gurner never admitted to using any device either, maybe he was truly the voice of Ellomyr given human form. Sadly we will never know.                             For Gurnerâs story has already ended.                                    ~Passage from the book âThe Trilling Shard: a Guide to Ellomyr and itâs Peopleâ Vol.5, Pg#.116 Author Ellomyr,                                      ~Passage credit: unknown. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
0 notes
Text
Part 9: From The Bottom of The Bottle
From the bottom of the bottle Malco could see the light pour in from the window across the room. The light refracted off the glass bottom and burned his eyes. Why did the outside world have to be so bright? The bricks in the home hummed and beeped erratically, as they tended to do on warm sunny days, and a colony of tiny insects had begun to swarm around the red stone he had found by the river. The stoneâs current home was at the center of a large pool of red viscous fluid, among the a piles of trash that had been accumulating since the day the Margr struck. Loose wine bottles still poured the remainder of their contents onto the floor, feeding the crimson ocean near the center of the living room. The fumes making the room smell like a bushel of fruity haggrass found near the valley of sin. Dnk Dnk, There was a knock at the door. âMalco! Malco are you up!â The voice belonged to Nieten.  Malco rested the bottleâs side on his forehead and let out a long sigh. âMalco! Look Iâm sorry to be bugging you on your day off, but I wouldnât be out here if it wasnât important!â He let out another sigh. So just checking up on me wouldnât be determined âImportantâ then? He allowed the bottle to roll off his body. Then he hit himself on the forehead, his gauntlet slamming into his head with a much harder whack! then he was intending. No, donât vent your anger out on Nieten. She didnât do anything wrong. None of âthemâ did. The Margrâs attack was much larger than they predicted. Itâs not their fault tha- He froze and looked down at his gauntlet. It was still covered in blood. Actually his whole ensemble was coated thick in the stuff. Malco hadnât washed in the last few days, let alone change. He had been digging graves and hauling bodies nearly constantly since the attack ended. This was the first day he had to rest. Actually, technically it was his third day of rest, but Malco didnât count the first two days as very restful. The first he had stormed through the house knocking things over and screaming to the shard for what had happened. âWhy did Margr do this! Why after so long! What was their motive! Answer me you crudging stone!â he yelled as he threw his old rocks at the floor. The Trilling shard called out in the darkness taunting him, forcing him to remember the looks on peopleâs faces as they discovered their loved ones wouldnât be coming home. The sadness of families finding out their parent or child died amongst the front lines, or the rage of the wanderers as they saw the comrades they had known for years be cut down in the name of a silly little town like Ellomyr. Protecting silly little people like Malco and the rest of them.
He threw boxes at the walls, broke his bedroom door off its hinges, and stormed the wine cellar for his fatherâs collection. Malco wasnât a drinker, not by a long shot, but he decided his clothing couldnât get any redder. He gulped down two bottles, and puked up the rest. Eventually he woke up the next morning on what remained of his couch, soaked in the remains of puke and hag wine, with a piercing headache. He barely moved the whole day, except to wade through the disheveled mess to use the bathroom. Malco decided not to drink the wine, but discovered he felt pleasure pouring the rest of it onto the floor below him. The red seeping into the floorboards of his familieâs house. What does it matter? Iâm only going to leave this place to live with my family. He lurched forward, and puked into the pool he made before him. Perhaps the thought of his father and the blood red wine forced a response from within him, maybe it was the fumes flooding into the air. When day three rolled around he decided he had to eat. He trudged through the alcoholic swamp and found a box of cookies near the top of the pantry. He reached out his mind to pull the box down, but fell to his knees as a memory of Borrâs face flashed through his mind. He could see the snapped bones, and heavy bruises its rugged features had sustained after falling over two stories and being crushed under the debris of the crumbling watch tower. It was the same tower Malco helped build, the one he wrote that he was essential to building, the one that had crushed his friend. The one that crushed Annâs father. He could feel the voices inside his head taunt him as he laid on the wooden floor, wallowing in blood, wine, and puke. You canât go yet⌠not after you allowed so many to die.. You have to repay them. After all, they accepted you as one of them, and you still havenât repayed them for that. Not with those faulty defenses you made. They were right. If he had been more focused on building those defenses, rather than going to Hieroâs training in the mornings, maybe they wouldnât have fallen. Dnk, Dnk! The sound of knocking drew him back to reality. He had forgotten that Nieten was still outside. He often found himself becoming locked in thought these days. Dnk, Dnk! âMalco thereâs time for sleeping later, Itâs been three days and nobody has seen you! what have you been up too!â Dnk, Dnk! He looked down at his clothes, they had conformed to his body like a moist, extra skin. Suddenly, the smell of the room made him nauseous, and he rushed to the window and forced it to open. The gasp of air he would have had, might have been fresh enough to stop him from gagging, but as his body jerked from being forced out the window, he reflexively puked as the world swung around him. Malco was thrust up into the air with the power of a mighty metal fist. As he looked down from his perch he saw Hiero holding him up heroically, not looking to pleased as the puke ran down his upper arm. A small child cried out from behind him. âEWWWWW whatâs that smell!â Behind the hulking metal giant was too little figures, dwarfed by Hieroâs body and almost buried in his flowing cloak. Did he always have that? Karrus and Ann were using the automatonâs cloak as a buffer from the smell. Karrus was holding his nose while Ann made a face of disgust and looked away. âThat, young ones! Is the smell of heroism!â The automaton studied Malcoâs utter lack of self care, with obvious concern and disapproval mixing together on his face. âTHATâS the smell of heroism? It smells gross!â Ann said. Karrus gagged into the field, almost ready to puke. Hiero turned to acknowledge the children. âIf left unnurtured, Heroism can fester into hideous forms. Just like the one that seems to be afflicting this man right here!â Hiero dropped Malco allowing him to clamber back up to his feet. In the sun Malco looked like a thin, squeezed tomato. Hiero looked him up and down again. âYou are the floating man that sat in on my training arnât you! Your spear skills improved greatly as the sessions continued, and that was some strategy with the folding walls. very unique!â Malco jerked back and leaned against the wall, his body leaving a streak across the stone. He could barely think, let alone stand. âH-how did you find my h-house? I donât remember telling you w-where I live.â âI helped him!â Ann shot her hand up. âHe was asking around the smithy for the locations of good sources of metal and I thought of all the boulders you brought us! I went and got Karrus so he could bring us over to your house!â Karrus stood and looked embarrassed for a moment. As Malco got a better grip on what was going on he studied the group in front of him. He had gotten a reason for why the kids were with Hiero, but what of Ro? The little mutant girl was always with the metal knight, when she wasnât running around with Nir. Malco hadnât gone around the city to check for the dead. He avoided the roadside memorial like the plague, and instead wallowed in disease and drink within his home. He had no idea what Karrus and Ann were smelling, but it wasnât heroism like Hiero had claimed. If anything it was cowardice. A voice shot out from around the corner, it was Nietenâs. âHiero have you had any luck with the back exit? He doesnât seem to be ans-â Nieten walked around the house to find Malco looking like he just crawled out of the belly of some giant monster that he had been using for warmth. She ran over and hugged him. Hiero shepherded the kids back around the corner to let the two childhood friends have some alone time. âNever do this again okay!â Nieten smacked Malco across the face. âWhat if Dora or Darrion saw you like this!â âYou think I chose to be like this! Borr died because of me Nieten! If I had done a better job on that watch tower, maybe it wouldnât have fallen! Less people would have died! You think I could function normally with THAT on my mind!â  âYou should at least clean yourself! Malco, you did nothing wrong. It was a miracle that we got the tower constructed at all! Thereâs no way we would have been able to construct both towers and have prepared all those weapons in time without your help! Do you not see that!â  âNo! Because all I can see is the faces of the dead every time I go to sleep! Every time I look at the blood on my hands! Every time I hear that incessant stone singing on the horizon! Itâs as if nothing had ever happened!â Their conversation had long since turned into a shouting match. âDo you think this loss only affected you! That girl Hiero kindly pushed away was Borrâs daughter! HIS DAUGHTER! And do you know what she was doing this morning? She was firing the furnaces and making nails for the construction effort, just like yesterday, and the day before that! Whatâs your excuse!â Malco clenched his fists, but couldnât find the words to speak. âI get things are hard for you right now. Which is why we waited until now to get you. We figured you would need a few days to settle things, but have you even been feeding yourself!? You canât just rot the days away inside your house until you you die of starvation.â Nietenâs voice lowered. âEllomyr is going to need your powers if we want to rebuild quickly enough, we all know youâve been working hard and donât want to hear this speech anymore, but in case the Margr attack again we need to be prepared. Some of the wanderers in town are already planning on another journey into the Valley of Sin. I think itâs best that you go with them. Maybe youâll come to your senses after you spend some time in the wilderness with the wanderers. Get to know them better, theyâre good people Malco. Maybe youâll find whatever it is you need within them.â Malco slid down to the ground and put his head between his knees, he couldnât find retorts for what Nieten was saying anymore. Tears began to well up in his eyes, the first since finding Borrâs dead body earlier in the week. âNietenâs right you know.â Aethir floated down from above them descending from an angle that implied he was there for quite some time. âThe town needs every able bodied citizen and wanderer to help with the reconstruction effort. Now are you just going to sit here and cry like some little child who was just given a time out for setting the neighborâs Gallen on fire with a machine they found in the woods, or are you going to help make Ellomyr a better place and be remembered as a hero.â Aside from the constant harshness of his masterâs words, Malco could always tell when Aethir was being sincere. He even put a hand on Malcoâs shoulder, before immediately regretting the action, and removing a small synth ring from his pocket and rubbing it on his hand until the red liquid was entirely removed from his skin. He tossed the ring to Malco and told him to freshen up before strolling back into town. As he did there was a loud thud as Hiero collapsed into the drit from leaning over too much, the kids standing next to him pointing at the prone automaton accusingly. Hiero dusted himself off and began to pose dramatically, going off about some ghosts that had a grudge against him and how they must have made him fall. Malco began to tune it out as he looked at the ring in his hands already removing the top layer of grime, and then up at the people above him. From the bottom of the bottle, the world looked so much brighter than it did on the inside. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 8: 100 Doors and 100 Walls
Aethir slammed his hands towards the earth while cracking his knuckles. As he did, the walls shot up around them, creaking and popping into place. As he lifted them the walls went back down, now resting amongst the drit in the clearing. âWhat is this contraption you ordered Aethir? How do you plan on fighting the Margr with this?â Malco raised himself into the air and looked upon the various halls and tight chambers made by the inlaid machines. Aehtir joined him. âNot me. WE will be using this, at least during the start. These wooden walls can take a beating, but it is as you said, the Margr will break through them.â Aethir demonstrated by pushing and pulling various walls up and down. âWe shall use this plot of land to create a moving corridor that forces the Margr to run in circles, stabbing each other as people in the watch tower fire from above.â Aethir pointed at the tower they just came from. âLucky for us Borr is still up there and knows of my idea. I had planned to let people know of it before the invasion arrived, but now we have no choice. Borr shall tell the people who gather at the tower to fire upon the maze. The walls I set up by the river should keep them from making it to the towers and hitting them from the outside. Though the wood makes it less likely.â He pointed at Malco and then at the walls. âI want you to get familiar with these walls in case of the event I have to leave. I need to go and debrief as many people as I can before the Margr arrive. Now hurry along! You only have about 4 hours.â With that, Aethir left Malco to get settled into the old manâs machine. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ âThe sound of nearly 100 wooden walls slamming into the drit below them sounded like an applause on the battlefield, as the Trilling stone finished itâs haunting song.â                                                  ~Irina Jane                                      A trader who was present during the Margr attack. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ The Margr slammed into the Palisade! The wave of clicking bodies washed over themselves as they carelessly stabbed through their own front lines to get at the wall, to get at he meat inside. Some Margr hoards followed the walls Aethir had made. They didnât care what or where they attacked even stopping to stab the wood, before being shot in the head from afar. This wasnât a siege, it was natural disaster. Far worse then the tremors from the ground, far worse then walking outside to find the fields flooded from rain, far worse than the river turning red, no, this like holding back the Iron wind. As the Margr rushed along the barrier Malco chased them back too the trap. Aethir floated above but was keeping an eye on the front gates. Probably to check on how the new weapon had been doing. It was magnificent, hordes of Margr were burned, shocked, and frozen, along the field. It forced the Margr away, some decided to fight head on, and were still slamming into the gates, while more ran towards the magnetic labyrinth. Once inside they found themselves in a world of confusion and death. As Margr went to stab through the walls, they would suddenly drop revealing more Margr on the other side, not that they cared. If they tried to stab them while they were down, they would fly up, launching Margr into the crowd behind them. The sky above the maze was ablaze with Numenera, light blue tessellations arched in a lattice formation across the sky, illuminating volleys of slugs and arrows as the blue lights sliced through Margr in the maze. Bursts of metal needles leaking green mist fell upon the Margr at the walls, melting and warping their flesh until they collapsed in agony. Occasionally Malco sent his spears in as well, to pierce through the unlucky Margr that found it behind a wall. As the Margr ran around the maze a few ran into a colony of scavenger crabs, their hard metal shells and torch bearing pincers searing through the Margrâs bodies, and cracked their spears. âHaha! Told you they were useful!â Aethir dodged a volley of arrows alerted by their metal tips as he manipulated the walls. The windriders couldnât drop their bombs here, not yet. The maze was still useful, even though it had only been 20 minutes and a quarter of the walls had already been destroyed. With the explosions and burning fields raging in the distance, your could barely tell it was night. The light made Ellomyr glow, casting shadows of houses and windriders on the trilling stone from below. The Margr had not been prepared for aerial combat. None of them brought bows to fire at the Magnet wielders or the windriders, and those that threw their spears had little success, except one. Shortly before it died, one perhaps clever, perhaps lucky, Margr hit the engine of a windrider mid flight. As the machine spiraled out of control it slammed into the watch tower causing it to fall. People fell amoungst the rubble into the streets below. Malco was about to go help them when his grieves halted by Aehtirâs stronger pull. âDonât go! We must stay here so that the Margr donât attack the city as one! There are people back in Ellomyr whoâs job it is to save them! We have to keep on fighting!â Malco stayed. He stayed until most of the walls were gone. He stayed until the windriders dropped their bombs on the ones that remained shattering them to pieces. Then off he went. Dashing over the battle field he could see the death around the gates. Countless injured or dead, and many more still fighting. Malco did what he could, he was safe in the air, so he pushed a few spears out of the way of their intended targets, and hauled many injured or young into the air using their metal. Those that he could not move, he covered in weapons, shields, and bodies clad in armor, anything to try and protect them from the Margrâs strikes. From above he could see an army rush from the north and slam into the Margrâs flank. They cut the pack in two and forced a retreat. Ellomyr was safe for now, but probably wouldnât survive another attack if the Margr decided to come back. I was time to rebuild. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 7: The Corner of Fourth Street and Third
The corner of Fourth street and Third, an imaginary street corner on the outside of town. It was supposed to be part of one of Gurnerâs âexpansion projectsâ to help alleviate some of the stress the city felt with all the homeless wanderers that were seen lying in the streets. 18 town houses were planned in total. They were supposed to be lined up in a square with a border around it, each would be able to hold up to 8 different families of 5 for a maximum of 720 people that could sit comfortably within the expansion, twice that if they squeezed together. it was supposed to be built on the opposite side of the river, towards the mountains. They were going to use the machine the Nano Arkwiss had used to build his own dwelling, Gurner called it housing built fast and cheap. Then Brucha was in charge, and everything changed. Brucha, stopped all expansion projects and forced people to work on the tower, and it was a good thing to. For that tower was currently why Aethir and Malco were standing on the corner of Fourth street and Third. Earlier Malco had been on the tower. There were a few more people on the tower not enough to be crowed, but enough that you didnât want to make any wild movements, less you push someone off. Many wanders had gathered at the edges of the tower. Some wanted to test range attacks and some just wanted to get a better view of the land. Aethir and Borr where there as well, they seemed to be having a conversation. âTell me you at least got it done Borr! I donât want that front wall dealing with all these Margr by itself!â He leaned down and looked Borr right in the eyes. Aethir wasnât taller than Borr, no actually it was quite the opposite, but Aethir was currently floating a few feet above the ground as he usually did. âYup, got it done this morning actually. Well⌠not all of it. We had to supplement most of the metal for wood, but it should be entirely functional.â Borr rested his hands on his hips and began to glare at the floating Nano. Maybe thatâs just how they showed their affection. âVery well, I will go and test them now, before the Margr end up storming the city that is.â He began to float away. âStill no sign of them yet!â Borr said, âThey may still be a day or two away for all we know. Theyâre this late already, whats another few hours?â Not one of the souls on the tower dared to take such a light hearted tone when it came to talking about the Margr. Where was Hiero when you needed him. Malco thought. Things always seemed so much brighter when he was around, both figuratively and literally. He kept his pondering to himself, and was about to go back down the tower and go grab some bread when his master called out. âMalco! Come with me. Iâm going to need you for somethingâ Aethir jumped off the edge of the tower and began floating across the river towards the abandoned lot that used to be Gurnerâs expansion. It was unwise to not follow Aethir. Aethir was an old man when Malco was a kid, and there were rumors that he was immortal. That combined with the fact the the old hermit liked to keep grudges like the Trilling stone liked to sing and, Eh⌠it was best to do what he said. As they two landed on the dusty drit their boots made a soft thud, as if they had landed on a hollow opening. As Malco heard this he searched below them. There was a series of metal handles and panels under ground surrounding them. The metal objects snaked around the abandoned lot, like the giant body of a Queb crossing over itself as it moved. There were more objects near the river. Those were what Aethir went to next. He pulled on the joints and up slid a wood and metal wall from the ground. He pushed on a pin and the wall locked into place as he let go. âPerfect! Exactly how I ordered it! not quite safe from burning, but this is some resilient stuff!â He knocked on the wall he had erected with his mind and started doing the same to the others. Pretty soon a secondary wall blocked the other side of the river. Malco inspected the wall himself. It wasnât all that uniform or thick. it was probably made with the left over wood from construction. The metal added to itâs strength but there was just enough there to enable pushing and pulling it into place, and not for much else. Malco knocked on it again. âYou sure this will work Aethir? Iâve seen the holes Margr leave in houses and this is nothing compared to those.â People had begun to look over at the wall that had been building itself by the river. A few kids were about to run across the bridge and see what was going on when it happened. First there was the sound of branches snapping from the forest. Then you could see birds flying out of the trees to escape the commotion. There was a flash of silver as Acel the wingrider burst out from the canopy at full speed. No one could hear Acel Scream Margr at the top of his lungs, but none of them had to.  Aethir shook a metal cup he had been drinking from, careful not to let any of his tea spill. âBah! Already! Why donât those Margr have any common decency! Itâs like they chose a completely random time to get here!â A sound of a large bell could be heard coming from Ellomyr. It was a sign that people should be heading to the shelters, or wherever they planned to be when they received the Margr. The countdown after Acelâs arrival set the clock to 4-5 hours. Just as it was about to get dark. The Trilling Shard began to sing. ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ This is part of my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Part 6: Father
Father, I am writing you this message because, regrettably, I canât see you or mother in person. I heard the dairymen left a couple of days ago, and I pray you and mother left with them. I was never a religious man, but still I hope this message doesnât reach your eyes. For if it does, I believe it may be too late. The Margr are coming father. I know you chose not to believe it, and I doubt you want to leave in your condition, but I insist that you must! Please, if your legs ache, ride with Marylâs family. For they are still in town and their cart was built for their late mother Kyrn, it has room to lay! If you fear for the Gallen, take them with you! Set up a farm far beyond the path of the Margr, and then in a monthâs time, write back so I may meet you! The last time we spoke you were sick in bed. I would have asked Gurner to send for the Arkwiss, but I know how the nanoâs esoteries make you feel. I ask that if you have not already done so, leave! It is not wise for a man in such a state as yourself to be left on the front lines! If you are worried for my safety, I can fly now father. I have met up with the hermit Aethir, and he has trained me. This is not the same as when I floated around the herds, no, the heights I can reach now are much higher then those puny five lengths. I floated up the base of the Trilling shard to help with his research! I am no longer the week boy you held secret from the world! Included with this letter is a pouch containing half of the shins I was able to make during the past few months, assuming Hammond doesnât steal it. Take it to help pay for the land to work. If you need workers, Dyrius would surely go with you and your herd, and if you donât wish to take the handlers, use the money to pay for new ones! With you being sick, and me being absent, there must be a shortage of hands working the Gallen for their milk. I do not wish to see my father cut down, due to his stubborn mind. Though if you must stay, send mother and Dyrius away without you, show them this letter and tell them to take the Gallen. If you are so stubborn that you would die for your land while being unable to protect it, at least let the family survive without you.                                                Your Son,                                                      Malco Harley ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Malco read the note on the table. i sounded a lot harsher than he remembered when he wrote it. When he arrived it had been unopened and the pouch containing the shins was still lying next to it on the dinning room table. He sighed in relief. His father had left. A quick flight around the pastures showed that the Gallen were gone, and the barn was absent of supplies. Perhaps he went to Othmar, perhaps beyond. Malco wouldnât know until he received a note. IF he received a note that is. Malco was unsure of how his father thought of him after he left to live with Dora and her children. Malcoâs father was against it while Malco still lived with him. He could still picture his face, it was redder than a byriad fruit, but way less appealing. He set down at the table and rummaged through the boxes of items that were left behind. Most of the stones he had collected when he was young were still there. Malco eventually found out Toth had been making up those stories and threw most of them back into the Angry, but he kept a few of them. Toth was a part of Hieroâs training group. Malco was surprised. He always thought Toth would end up like Gurner, a talker, not a fighter.  As he searched the house, Malco decided to check the bedrooms, perhaps there was something he could use among the families belongings. As he walked passed his bedroom he noticed that the door to his parentâs room was open a bit. The rest of the house was properly locked, Malco had used his magnetism to find the hidden key they use to get back inside. So why was this door open? Did they simply not have time. The open door felt..... Intimidating. The last time Malco walked into that room, his father had been in there. You could hear him coughing and occasionally puking up his food while walking past. Maryl and her family had been visiting at the time. They delivered a special medicine they had traded for in Othmar. The ranchers were like one large family. They came by and helped ease the Gallen during birth, they even shared Gallen when the less fortunate rancherâs herds got attacked by predators, or warned each other of disease. This made it hard for all the dairymen when Malcoâs father got sick. Malcoâs father was the oldest dairyman still alive. Kyrin was older, but she passed a few years back. Hearing that another old hand was about to kick the bucket made then worry for the next generation. Malco knew enough to uphold the family tradition, but it was public knowledge that he had little want to do so, and Dyrius, well Dyrius was a special case. He came into town about five or so years ago, claiming the Ellomyr Gallen milk was the best he ever had and that he wasnât stopping until he became a dairyman himself! Some people still donât fully trust him. His frizzy brown hair made him look like he was in a perpetual state of just getting out of bed, and his lazy demeanor reinforced that. He wore long blue garments with white accentâs, clothes from his homeland or so he claimed, but Malco had yet to see similar clothing on any of the wanderers currently staying in Ellomyr. Dyrius never spoke of his past to anyone, not even Gurner. Malco saw him sharing a meal with Arkwiss once, but it seemed that it wasnât an often thing since Dyrius never mention the nano before, or after the event happened. As Malco entered the room he saw a large package on his parents bed. There was a note stuck to the outside. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Iadace Son, I know you have been working very hard over the past few months. I hear from Borr that you have been hauling metal from the river to help him with his work. He said he was going to make you some armor for your efforts, and that you have become a fine member of the town guard. It pains me that I cannot join you. You may not know this but I did my fare share of traveling back when I was a young man! I traveled all the way to the mountains and back! Not as far as those crazy Nanoâs have gone, but I have had my share of adventure. I decided that I would do what I can and move our herd away from Ellomyr. Your mother had to do MORE than her fair share of nagging to convince me to leave before I finally broke down. But know that I have, there will be no waiting for you. Here I give to the final piece of what I can give to the town. Every Gaurdsman needs a weapon right? I will send a courier with a message of my location to Gurner some time in the coming months. Provided Ellomyr hasnât been erased from the map by then. I donât get to say this often but, Iâm proud of you son. You took your first steps into the world long before me and your mother thought you were ready and came back a fine young man. Every day you had a smile on your face as you ran through the house carrying the objects you found by the river. If you must fight the Margr hordes to save the people, make sure to live, if not for me, then for your mother. She doesnât deserve to see her child die before her.                                                    Survive,                                                       Shepar Adi ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Malco put down the note. He had not noticed it earlier, but he was crying. He might never see his father again. He took a minute to work op the nerve to open up the package. He found a long spear, made almost entirely of metal. Along the shaft was a long scarf that seemed to be made of white, black, and brown wool, a gift from his mother, and another scarf made of white and blue fabric, a gift from Dyrius. It would be ridiculous to think someone would be able to wield it in battle. If that someone didn't have the ability to use magnetism that is. Malco pulled upon the heavy Spear and found that it weighed almost as much as the boulders he had lifted before. âHow did they get this up here?â He asked to himself. If it wasnât for his magnetism he probably wouldnât even be able to carry it. I guess itâs time for some- he stopped himself. âLightâ strength training, before the Margr come.
0 notes
Text
Part 0: A Boy and his Gallen
Malco ran down the creaky steps that led up to the bedrooms above. Now that he was allowed to leave the house, every day seemed to explode with color and excitement for the little 10 year old.  As he ran through the house he grabbed various items he had gathered throughout the last few months and spread them out on the dinning room table. He had the cap the weaver, Hr. Heinrick, had made for him, the stones he and his friend Toth had gathered from the Angry last week, and the tiny machine he found in the plains while following the older kids as they hunted synth chips for the carpenter, Elsard, Doraâs father. He hadnât known the kids that long, Only about 2-3 months, even now his best friend was still, the familyâs brown long haired Gallen, Gidget. They had known each other for as long as Malco had been alive, apparently Gidget was 15 years older than Malco and getting on in life. Gallens came in several colors, from white, to black, to brown, to even mixtures of the three. Each was essentially the same, but they offered some variety to the color of wool that could be used to make winter sweaters and long ponchos. These garments were the main export of Ellomyr, that, and the milk which was sold by the dairymen. Malcoâs family primarily got paid off the milk and meat, for no one in his family learned to sow. His mother had been studying to become a weaver, but the classes were long so she was barely home before dark, and with his father being away for milk sales, Malco was basically home alone for most of the day. He made a habit of walking out to the barn and greeting Gidget with the things he found with his new friends. He would work out how to arrange them upon the table and then bring them out to stables where she often slept. 25 was old for a Gallen so she rarely ever moved from the barn except to relieve herself. Her age made it hard for her to walk, just last summer Malco had to help his father install a ramp near the back of the barn just for her, since she couldnât make it up the two steps that led into the front entrance. As he gazed upon the items on the table he began to get excited. His little hands darted along the table as he organised the stones, arranging them by âcoolnessâ and ârarityâ. He had no Idea if the stories Toth told him about them were true, but Toth had such a way with words that he could probably convince a stump it was still a tree long enough to pick apples from it. He placed the machine in the basket near the table, he wanted to save that story for last. Then he piled to stones on top of the machine and put on his cap. He never left home without his cap, it was made with Gidgetâs wool after all. To Malco, it felt like he always had his best friend right next to him as he walked through the town. Before he left he grabbed one of the chairs Doraâs father made. He pulled it over to the pantry and piled some books on top of it. As he climbed the tower he had made he reached for the top shelf which held a small wooden box. It was slightly too tall for him though, and he couldnât reach. Frustrated he pulled upon the nails in the box, it flew across the room and landed on the floor, spilling small circular cookies across the floor. Malco hoped down and began to shove a handful of the cookies into the basket he had prepared, and then ate a few himself. Itâs not like he could put the broken ones back after all. He put the remaining cookies back into the box and placed it on the top of his tower. He pulled himself up and grabbed the box above his head. As he held it up, Malco pushed upon the nails this time and threw it back upon the shelf that he got it from. Then promptly slipped off the tower and slammed his elbow on the ground. It hurt, but not to the extent that another cookie wouldnât fix it. He was always lucky that way. Putting the books back on his fatherâs shelf, and pushing the chair back to the table, he picked up the basket and ran out the back door. The basket was heavy, but Malco didnât care, he was about to see his best friend after all. The back door to the barn was locked with an outer bar lock. The door was only there to keep out predators, since the only thing in the back of the barn was the birthing stables. This was where Gidget had decided to make her stay. The hay on the ground made it easy to sleep in, and a hole in the ceiling gave her a beam of sunlight to lie in for a few hours a day. Malco undid the bar and walked inside. Gidget was lying down in the sun, her legs tucked beneath her. She was breathing heavily, but the barn got really hot in the afternoon, and wouldnât cool down until late at night. That combined with her thick wool probably made it feel like a sauna. âHi Gidge! I brought you something special today!â He placed the basket on the ground with a thud. With that she began to look up. Gidget raised her head and shifted in the hay to get a better view of the young boy and his basket. Gidget began to sniff the air and then moved her head down towards the basket, nose moving quickly with excitement. âTHATâS RIGHT!â He laughed âI brought you cookies!â He took out one of the circular cookies from the basket and held it out before him. Gidget quickly grabbed the cookies and scarfed it down, Malco held out another.  âNow donât go telling mom I brought you cookies again. We donât want her hiding them from us.â Gidget quickly ate through the remaining cookies Malco had brought, leaving only the objects. He pet Gidget on the head and scratched her ears, she really seemed to like that, for her leg began to shake as he scratched her. After a few minutes he pulled back and began to take out the stones. âThese are the stones I got from Toth, Gidget. Remember these? I got these awhile ago, but I recently went out to the Angry with Toth, Dora, and Darrion. See? Look at all these cool stones we found!â Gidget looked at the boy as he placed stones on the barn floor. âThis one is my favorite!â He pulled out a large, red and turquoise stone. As he lifted it he twisted it in the light and the turquoise part sparkled like tiny pools of water in a see of blood. âToth said it was once the heart of a great beast that died in the mountains near the glaciers and washed all the way down here! Darrion says heâs lying, but I believe him! Toth knows everything about everything!â Malco dropped the stone, a look of surprise flashed upon his face. âOOOOOHH, I almost forgot. We saw a girl by the water today! She said her name was Nieten and that she lived with her father out in the woods! She was sooo strong! She could roll boulders that were thiiiiis big!â The young child held out his arms as far as they could go and then some. Taking a deep breath as he relaxed again. âShe didnât seem much older than me! I told he ALL about you. She told me about where to find the white stones like those two over there!â He pointed to a pair of pearly stones that were resting by the red one.  âI know! How about I take you to meet her! She said she would be near the river for the next two days! Come! Iâll give you another cookie if you come with me.â The boy took out half of a broken cookie he had been saving in his pocket and moved it just out of reach. This made Gidget get up. Now she was motivated. As she slowly walked over to the cookie in Malcoâs hand he slowly walked backwards and out the door, Gidget followed. By the time they got to the Angryâs edge, Gidget was already breathing heavily, she wasnât used to all the exorcise anymore. She sat down near the river and began to lick the water, taking huge gulps between gasps for air. As she drank, Malco went to search for Nieten, but she was nowhere to be seen. He traveled down to the edge of the forest and up towards the cliff with the pearly stones. She was nowhere. As he walked back to the spot he had left Gidget he saw her head was resting under the water. Panicked, he began to run. He dove into the Angry rather than running around the bend and swam the rest of the way. As he made it to the shore, he saw Gidgetâs head was completely submerged. He pulled as hard as he could, but Gallens were big creatures, and her head was to much to move for the tiny 10 year old. As he struggled, he reached out into the water with his mind, pulling on random objects to help him. A long pole which had been buried in the mud came loose when he pulled on it. As it flew up from the river he began to move it onto the beach and then tried to use it as a lever to push Gidgetâs head from the water. He heard a series of splashes come from down stream and felt something push from the other side. As the head began to move he saw who it was, Nieten! She apparently had come back from wherever she had gone off too, and not just her, Darrion and Toth had been with her! Together, the four of them were able to pull Gidgets head from the Angry. The process took what seemed like forever. When Darrion leaned in to check if Gidget was still breathing, he leaned back and shook his head. âSheâs dead, probably died of heat exhaustion.â Malco began to cry, he was about to turn around and run when Toth grabbed his arm. Toth pulled him in and hugged him tightly, telling him that it was going to be okay. If it wasnât for Tothâs greater strength and size advantage, Malco probably would have been able to run away, but he couldnât, all he could do was stand there and cry. When Malcoâs father came back from his trip, his wife informed him on what had happened while he was gone. Malcoâs father immediately began work on digging a grave for Gidget under a large tree on the property. It was a first for them, normally they harvested the meat and sold it to the other villages, but Gidget was a part of the family. Not some meat to be sold. Malco visited the tree nearly daily for 3 months, then weekly, then maybe once a month, then he stopped going all together. He was a part of Ellomyr now, he expanded his horizons beyond the family farm, to the pastoral hills around him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It had been nearly 20 years since the last time Malco visited the tree where Gidget had been buried. He placed a small bag of circular cookies he bought at the bakery on his way there next to a small wooden statue of a Gallen. He turned and walked down the road to his familyâs ranch for the first time in months. He was going to take Hieroâs advice and rest before the Margr hordes arrived, only walking back to town to practice the spear with Hiero. and magnetic combat with Aethir. He clutched the metal pole that floated at his side, near the end of it was a braided tassel of brown fur. He took that pole everywhere he went, he said it made him feel like his best friend was always by his side.
0 notes
Text
Part 5: A Hiero's Spirit
For Malco, sleep was becoming a thing of the past, work on the towers was taking longer than expected. He was used to getting up before the sun, but now he was also going to bed long after it sank. He couldnât remember a night in the past 2 weeks during which he slept for longer than 3-4 hours. They werenât the best hours, but he was keeping the city safe. Just a few months ago, Malco would have thought this whole Margr scare was a hoax. Back then, the only people who talked of Margr were hacks and nutjobs. Now those same hacks and nutjobs rule the town, and who could blame them, they were right.Â
Malco walked down the shadowy stairway, tightening the the loop on his utility belt that held his hammers and nails. He unfurled the sack that contained the metal balls his master had given him, it was a good time to practice his multitasking. He still couldnât see the balls, but he could feel them. He could feel other metals too, nails in the floor, the brass of the candle holder, and the metal of the door handle, worked as beacons guiding him through the inky blackness that enveloped the household. He got started to adjust the grieves and gauntlets he left near the door way. He called them to him and pulled on the tumbler inside the door to open it. âHowâs that for control.â He thought, the image of his master being able to sort through a bin of metal dust and organize it into sorted piles still fresh in his head.  He called to his plate, he forgot it inside, quickly it popped off from the spot he left it in the hallway and landed on his back. He decided to walk. He didnât trust his mind to not fly him straight into a wall this early in the morning, and his physical body could really use the exorcise. He looked up, the sky had been covered partially by clouds. Though occasionally you could see the countless stars that shown behind them. Malco always thought they were like the eyes of countless spirits, watching the Gallen while the farms slept warning them of predators. He hoped the spirits were also watching over the town now, protecting them from the Margr threat. The path to the tower would have been hard if it wasnât for the device he received from his master, a small object that produced light in a beam before him. He shown it on the stones in front of him to gain his barrings. âUseful.â He thought, as he silently tiptoed past four adventurers who had been sleeping in the streets. âWhy are they even here?â he muttered. The queston held some merit. NO ONE visited Ellomyr, not even the Aeon priests. Why had so many wayward souls ended up washing ashore in this small pastoral town. Malco recalled one of them passing out shortly after receiving the news of the incoming Margr attack, her pristine purple hair had come undone and shot out like the fur of a gallen left out in the summer mists. Yet, once she woke up, she got right back to work and kept going. âHow were they so strong?â  What had they faced, far beyond the rolling hills that surrounded the plains. Beyond the borders of Malcoâs world. Malcoâs joints creaked, and his mind ached, it was almost as if he aged 30 years in the past month alone. He spent 3 hrs a day asleep, the rest was dedicated to his practice. He was always either walking the rounds, gatherin metal, working on towers, or practicing his magnetic abilities. Usually doing multiple at the same time. To many of the people in Ellomyr, the abhumans were forgotten. Malco couldn't even remember the last time he feared the Margr threat. In hindsight it hadnât been that long, a few years at most. The Margr were never that far away either, only a few weeks at most, and thatâs if they casually walked to Ellomyr and stopped to take in the view along the way. If anything, the Margr were late. Nobody said anything, but it was true, they barely finished the wall in time for the attack, where were they? Malco stopped, and checked the metal balls his mater gave him. Stopped... That wasnât good. It meant he was focusing to much on the world around him, he was panicking. He began to whisper to himself. âBreath in...â .... âBreath out...â  HAAAaaaaaaa..... He repeated the exorcise 5 times before he started walking again. As he walked down through the shopping district, he swore he could see the hunched over shapes of bakers preparing for the morning bread from behind their dew covered window. âSome fresh bread would really hit the spot right now...â He had left without eating this morning. He didnât have time for breakfast. Hammond was already out on patrol and would have some left over jerky that Malco could probably snag while they exchanged shifts. In the darkness, illuminated by the small device he carried, Malco walked the final couple blocks to his destination. The tower, not Bruchaâs tower, but the one for the fire woman. A tower that shot sparks of energy at itâs foes. Malco wasnât good at fusing parts together. Aethir hadnât taught him that yet, and hadnât expressed any interest in doing so either. The only thing Malco could do right now was build the foundation, after that, the rest is a Nanoâs job. Malco couldnât move wood, not with his mind anyway, but he could move his gauntlets. He made them fly off his hands and towards the pile of wood at the base of the tower, he tested their strength. The pull was firm, and the wood budged but not by much. He sent his plate under the log and used it as a base with the gauntlets as a guide, that worked.... Enough. Malco had to hug the wood as he lifted it so it wouldnât fall and shatter on the stones below. Who knows how many more trees Doraâs team would be able to cut down before the Margr made their move. The task almost forced him to stop moving the metal balls near his head, something Master Aethir would have probably smacked him for admitting....Â
Malcoâs mind started to drift towards the good old days. He spent twenty years swimming in the frigid waters of the angry, herding his families long haired gallen from one field to the next, and not caring about what existed beyond the rolling hills around him. Heck, he even spent a few summers relocating scavenger crabs when necessary.
Malco always was prone to reminiscing while working on the towers. As his mind had to focus less and less on the boots supporting, he would begin to daydream as he worked. By the time he became re-aware of his surroundings, the sun had already begun to creep over the horizon, itâs golden fingers bringing warmth to the chilled ground below him. When seen from above, Ellomyr was quite small, the part not obscured by the Trilling shard anyway. Without Malco even noticing, the world had already begun to wake up beneath him. The sounds of villagers and wanderers hammering away at the walls reminded him of the times he ran past Doraâs house while she was working on her newest creation. Ann would be chasing around Doraâs kids with a stick yelling at them to âGet some guts!â Karrus was usually the first one to respond, and usually got defeated swiftly there after. The cold breeze that blew across the town reminded him of the times he spent swimming in the Angry. The high level of metal made him calm, it was as if the river hugged him with every dive. He always wondered how a water that was so calming to him could be so âAngryâ to his ancestors. âI guess the same could be said for the townâ He muttered to himself, not that it mattered so high off the ground. Though the town had changed, it was once so peaceful. Now it was on the brink of chaos.Where fields of grass occupied with herds of grazing gallen stood, a wall had been built in between. The forest he once played in around the town had been pushed back considerably, now around the town was only fields of stumps. Wind blew in from over the hills. The cold air washed over him, and the morning rays of sunlight coated the top of the tower where he was working on. The smell of bread wafted up from the bakery down the road. The hushed murmurs of Ellomyrâs early risers faded as they began to prowl the street going about their business. Maybe the town was still peaceful after all.
BOOOOOOOOooooooom! A bright light shot up from the ground almost obscured by the Trilling shard. The glow was so powerful it seemed like a second sunrise.
What was that! The sun rose fromâŚ. theâŚ. ground? Actually isnât that the field by the dairymanâs house? He should still be gone for a few more days at least. And according to that fear monger Darrion, the dairyman sold that house when he left! Who would buy a house in a city thatâs about to be raided by Margr? Someone with an affinity for explosives apparently. Malco rushed his way over to the field, being careful to rest the log he was about to lift back on top of the pile. The flight took about about 5 minutes. It would have been shorter, but as sure as the sun would rise, the Trilling shard began to sing. Itâs siren like song reverberating through the streets below. Malco still didnât like getting too close to it while it was singing, both Aethir and Gurner worried about it, though both tried to hide it. Maybe it was what was attracting the Margr? Maybe is attracted the travelers as well? Like some sort of massive beacon. Questions on who it could be jumped through his mind. Who bought the hose? Did someone break into it and detonate a cypher? Besides the Dairymen, who else had left the town? He paused. The fact that Malco didnât know the answer scared him. He ALWAYS knew. There wasnât many people in Ellomyr, and he was part of the guard! It was basically his job to know!
As he rushed over, he saw about 20-30 people sitting or standing in a circle around a man plated in armor from head to toe. Many of people still wore what they went to bed in last night. They obviously came to investigate the cause of the massive light and noise from earlier. The armored man continued to speak.
âNow despite what I just showed you a few minutes ago, the 5th rule of being a fantastic hero is~â He lifted up a finger, as if he was looking for answers.
âHeroes donât burn down the city!â A small girl with an equally small tail and koi-like white and orange skin sat amongst the much older participants in the circle.Â
âVery good Ro! The rest of you have allot to learn before you can even hope to reach her level of heroic knowledge!â He quickly spun upon his foot with calculated grace as he made sure to address the circle equally, stepping over a small pile of spears near the center.
The little mutant girl looked pleased with her praise and giggled as she shifted around in her seat. Her white and orange skin glistening in the early sun.
âNow! Who could tell me what the next rule to being a fantastic hero is?â The armored man paced along the inside of the circle taking great care to watch every single person involved.
The mutant girl raised her hand again.
âAhh yes! Ro! Do you have an answer?â The man pointed again at the little girl, she shot up immediately unable to hold in her excitement.
âHeroes arnât formed by tragic backstories!â The girl sat back down waging her tail like a seskii waiting for a treat.
âEhhh not quite. Though that is important! One should not pursue the noble quest of a hero with a heart tainted by anger and vengeance!â The little girl, eh... Ro, looked sad for a second but perked back up as the knight continued to speak.
âThe 6th rule to being a fantastic hero is to pursue excellence in every task! One must never complain when wanting to pursue the path of a hero and must always be prepared to stand for whatâs right!â He accented the last part by grabbing one of the many spears near him and planting it tip first into the ground, striking an overly heroic pose. âNow letâs begin with basic combat practice!â Ro shot up and began to clap, jumping into the air, unable to hold her excitement. A few of the other participants began to clap aswell, while a few exchanged nervous glances. Malco recognized a two of them immediately as people he grew up with, Belara and Arturo. The mass seemed to be made of whoever was nearby, not some organized riot.
Malco descended from the sky. Still quite unsure of what he was witnessing.
âHow did you like that display, frail sky man!â The knight turned and pointed towards Malco as he landed.
âCome to join my training session and start walking the path of a true hero!â It was then Malco realized why some of the people were exchanging glances.
The knight was a robot! He thought.
From above the knightâs armor appeared to glow with the heat of the sun. Malco thought it was just very reflective. No, the light came from a core of plasma that pulsed within the breathing knightâs metal chest. As Malco reached his mind into the strange being, he found it was made of so many different layers of metal it almost overloaded his senses so much he had to pull away.Â
Malco didnât want to stay much longer, he saw Arturo from over the knightâs shoulder. He was already holding a training spear. The villagers here were reasonable right? This, thing, was one of the robots they heard about growing up in Gurnerâs stories. A crazed being that could turn on them and kill them at any moment. They wouldnât follow that mad ramblings of a psychotic droid right? Wait, did the knight cause the explosion? Was he the one Darrion said bought the house? Malco wasnât sure. None of this made sense! Not to the lowly villager who knew almost nothing of the outside world. His headache got worse, his peaceful morning becoming nothing more then a faint memory. Malco desperately wanted to salvage what was left of the peace he felt earlier and tried to back off.
âActually I have to get back to my post... I have to swap with Hammond for patrol duty in about 2hrs or so, and I should really-â
The knight jumped and changed poses adopting one with a more combative tone. Malco thought it made his already intimidating 6ft posture seem even more imposing.
âSo you are a member of the guard? Perfect! I was looking for a sparing partner to help show these hopeful heroes in training how to really fight! It will be good for them to see how two beings trained with the blade engage each other before they start!â
Training!? Did this robot want to kill him!? Malco never learned how to fight! Well he did, but not extensively! He was being trained by Nieten for awhile, but that ended once everything got busy. He learned some magnetic combat from Aeither but that was only for self defense! Not enough to spar with such an imposing machine!
âAhhh, listen I would love to, but I donât think Iâd be all that helpful for a demonstra-â
âWhat bableing is this!? You are a member of the guard! This townâs protection! And YOU are not confident of your skill? I know that when going up against someone like me who was built to be the perfect hero from the minute they were conceived might seem daunting, but you must at least try! For a hero-â
âMust seek excellence in every task!â The little mutant girl shouted once again.
âGood answer Ro! Now tell me frail hero! What do YOU believe would bring you closer to excellence? Letting these poor villagers die at the hands of the Margr? Or teaching them how to protect their loved ones with theyâre own two hands!â
The knights eyes narrowed. Malco could feel the droid studying his facial movements. Malcoâs mind went dizzy. Up until the moment he heard Ro scream, he completely forgot he had an audience, and it had only grown since they started.
âWhat would Nieten do?â He thought Surely she would have fought the knight. She tried to help in every way she could. Even though she was working on the wall, and scouting the perimeter, she still lugged boulders like the rest of the villagers. She even still harassed Malco when he didnât do his exorcises. How she knew was still beyond him.
Dora was also helping the town as much as possible. Although she probably wouldnât have tried to fight him. Though Malco found the idea of Dora swinging her saw at the looming metallic knight to be particularly hilarious. Even so, she would still be out here urging the other villagers to learn how to fight and might even take the class herself. Malco scanned the audience, no sign of her, but that didnât mean she wasnât on her way. She probably already knew about the beam of light and was running through the streets as they spoke.
Master Aeither kept studying the trilling shard, hoping to mine it for the answer to this disaster. he had spent many sleepless nights comparing notes with other nanoâs that were doing their best to âunlockâ the Trillingshard. Malco himself had to climb it a few times with him. The adventurers rise each morning to protect a village they donât even have any attachment too! They pour blood, sweat, and even tears into the construction of Ellomyrâs defenses. Regardless on if they are even getting paid or not.Â
Heck, even Darrion continued to speak his opinions. He may think the odds are against us but even HE hasnât left yet! Even Dora says he shutâs up and rolls the stones like the rest of us. Spending every second of his break time shouting his prophesies, even if no one really cares to hear them.
It was at that moment a spark of courage erupted from within Malco. Yes he was scared of the robot in front of him. But that crazed mountain of machine had a point. If Malco claimed to be a guard, that meant he had to be prepared to save the town when it needed him most. If he wasnât sure of his combat ability, then he was obligated to remove those thoughts through hard work! As Malco called his pole two his hand and his plate out in front of him, he stroke the pose Nieten had taught him nearly a month ago. Well... good enough at least. He called to a spear near the robotâs foot and had it float next to him but on the opposite side of his pole. If he couldn't affect the robot with his magnetism then he might as well abuse the terrain. The Knight seemed pleased by his answer. For itâs core began to burn brightly. The energy radiating off of the robotâs body was hot and fierce, like that of a star. The fiery power burned away the last of Malcoâs concerns and filled him with heroic fury. As the rushed towards each other.
The match... didnât last long. Malco lost. He lost hard. As it turns out, courage canât out weigh a lack of training and sleep deprivation while on the battle field. The tall knight walked over to where he knocked Malco out of the sky with a single blow with a spear. Each one of his heavy foot steps clicked and hissed as parts moved within his body before crunching on the dried drit below. âThe 7th rule to being a fantastic hero. Is to always make sure you are in you peak fighting condition. You humans, have weak bodies, do not die simply because you didnât sleep enoughâ The Knight extended a hand to help lift Malco off the barren drit.Â
Malco spent the rest of the hour getting taught spear techniques from the large mechanical knight with the rest of the group. A few more villagers joined the circle in the field as they went. Malco had to leave early, he still had to get ready for his patrol. He could really use a piece of that jerky now, and planned to stop by the bakery after he was finished. He left not knowing how many people truly showed up to the robotâs training session before it stopped, but in just that short hour, they managed to gather more people then they had spears. When he was on his way out, he realized he never got to robotâs name, if it even had one. He spun around and flashed a grin through his still drit stained face.
âIâm Malco by the way. What may I call you Sir Knightâ
âYou may call me Hiero Sol! Champion of Starlight, Defender of Humanity, and Soon to be Savior of Ellomyr! My data shows it would be the easiest way for your human bodies to pronounce such a glorious name.â Ro nodded in agreement.
Yep, he was a weird one, but Malco decided he would return again. Once he got some sleep.
0 notes
Text
Part 4: The Nano Aethir
   Malco stayed floating above the streets below him. He was hammering in the nails that held up the tower walls. His boots locked him to the plate he was standing on, meaning unless a strong gust made itâs way through the plains, he wasnât falling off.    He had the gauntlets Borr made him floating off two his left and right. They were holding the wood panel in place. And he was using two hammers, one with his hands, and the other mimicking his movements on the opposite corner. He was good at jobs like this.    It offered allot in terms of training. He had to be accurate enough to hit and hold the nail in place, and have the endurance not to drop himself. This particular kind of job also lent itself to multi tasking. Holding everything where it needed to be was often difficult, especially in the wind, and occasionally Malco would find himself drifting off to the left or right while working.    What was it that old fart Aethir told him.    Three days prior.    When the pile of scrap left the ground it began to hiss and snap. Itâs fifteen spider like legs flailing underneath it.    Scavenger Crabs.    Maclo had to float far away while removing them. The crabs liked building their shells out of random bits of the numenera they found in the wild, then bury themselves in the drit so only their shell poked through. They have two pincers, a big one that they used for attacking and digging, and a smaller one with a torch on the end so they could fuse the pieces of their shell together. They were everywhere lately.    As Malco took the crab back towards the Angry, it turned and tried to get a good snap at him with itâs bigger claw. When that didnât work it tried to flare the torch and burn him. As he threw it into the river it made a large âplopâ as it sank below the surface. Normally the creatures were too scared to wander into town, they didn't like the constant sounds of  people walking about, but something was making them move. With any luck maybe a few Margr will accidentally step on some during their charge upon the city.   The thought made him think about the wall. When Nieten wasnât on her rounds, she was helping roll stones into place. The southern wall was almost built, but some builders had to be taken from it to help build the tower for Brucha. Malco was one such builder. His time was split between hunting for metal boulders, patrolling the town, building the tower, and now removing crabs.    âBah! If only I could use the metal from those useless creatures shells!â    âI wouldnât call those things useless boy.â There was the voice of an old man that came from behind him.    âI learned how to solder wires by watching them work on their shells.â    âWhoâs there!â Malco quickly used his magnetism to spin himself and propel his body 18ft into the air and over the river, calling his pole to his side and moving his plate in front of him. He was less stable in the air while using his boots to fly, but his intruder didnât need to know that.
   âWhat a marvelous demonstration of skill child! Not as marvelous as me when I was your age, but still! Good show!â    The old man was wearing a long red cloak, and had a long white beard that looked like it was recently burned a bit. Actually all his clothes looked like they were burned slightly especially the parts of them that were covered in devices.    The man hiked up his robes to reveal a pair of metal boots and began to float into the air, rushing over to where Malco was above the river. The action was so fast that Malco got startled and lost control of his legs dropping into the river below, only to find him, and his stuff, to be forcibly removed from the Angryâs waters and be lifted back onto the shore.    âOne mustn't try to rest themselves on such a small platform if they donât have the focus to balance child. Youâre lucky it was above the river! If you had fallen from that height onto the ground you might have broken a bone! Do you want to be impaired by the time the Margr come!â       Malcoâs head was still swimming. Not only had someone floated up to him, but hey also fished him out of the river! Using HIS power! This is the first time he had ever encountered someone remotely like himself. He heard from the Nano heâs rooming with that there was other people like him, but he didn't think he would meet one so soon!    Cough! GASP! âWho are you!â He managed to get out still choking on water.    âWhere do you come from? How did you get those powers!?â Malco began to move his limbs erratically as he kept slipping on the rocks while trying to stand.    âI am the Nano Aethir Scarax. I come from that house down by the hill over there. People have been knocking on my door for weeks now trying to get me to move within their silly walls, and here I thought just about everyone knew where I lived.â  The man floated down next to the prone Malco.    âAs for how I got these powers, I assume it was much like you. I was born with them. There aren't many people like me but I do find them from time to time. I didnât think one would be so close to Ellomyr however! How long have you been here?â Aethir leaned in close, the smell of smoke emanating off his person.      Aethir?   Malco had heard of him, like Brucha, Aethir was one of the townâs hermits. People went to him when they needed help with some old tech they dug up from the drit.
   âYouâre Aethir Scarax? I thought you were just some hermit who was good with tools! I had no idea you had powers like mine! I would have sought you out sooner if my parents hadnât said they already asked! Doesnât the miners son Devan go to you to repair the objects they dig up? To think you were so close~â The man shot up a hand and smacked Malco on the head.    âWe can save the worship for later boy. You seem to know allot of things about me, but I know nothing of you. Who are you and how do you know me.â    Malco was resisting an urge to hit the old man back, provided he could get a grip long enough to stand back up.    âIâm Malco Harley, Son of Erid Galvrick and Kara Heywart. I was told they went to reach you shortly after my birth.â    âKara and Erid? Yes they do ring a bell. I think they tried to get me to quell their son some 20 years ago, but I was very busy at the time. I was just about to leave on one of my expeditions. Ahhh, and what and expedition it was. I wouldnât mind going back to the mirror Isles, far from that noisy Devan and his father! A 34 year old man has to move out of their fatherâs house, I donât care if itâs for the sake of the business or whatever. That Devan can barely even fend for himself now! Maybe heâs had a few too many boulders hit his head while in the mine.â    Malco finally caught his breath and began to stand. He felt like this meeting was going to change him.    Shockingly, that was not the case. Aside from a few pieces of advice Aethir didnât offer much else.    âPicture a swarm of hands that you can move around you in any way you like.â He said âJust like with hands, you can use them to move and shape the world around you. And just like with your real hands, they have a set endurance and accuracy you can train. Itâs obvious you have been doing that, but another thing you must learn is how to multitask.â He poured a set of 15 metal beads into Malcoâs outstretched hand. For every moment your awake, I want you to move these beads INDIVIDUALLY up and down at different speeds in a place where you canât see them, BUT I want you to move the first bead and second to last bead up and down at the same speed, and the third bead and fourth bead in the exact opposite direction at the same speed. If you must watch them to get it down then do so, but make sure you can do it behind your back by the time the Margr make theyâre move. You will need that kind of control when they eventually make their move.â Malco peered back up at the hammer and gauntlets that where hammering the board in place. He could still feel the small beads moving along the other side of it. Just as Aethir had wanted, probably, anyway.
ââââââââââââââââ This is my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Doraâs State of Mind
   Malco rose from his bed and wiped the crust from his eyes. The sun had yet to rise, but Malco was getting used to that. It has been three weeks since the Margr incident. Over a month since he began his training under Nieten, and two weeks since the dairymen left to spread the word and deliver the last shipment of milk and fur to the outside world.Â
   âThey left us! Left us to die I tell ya! Left us to be fed to the hordes of those horrid Margr beats!â    The voice had been coming from the open window. The window overlooked a courtyard. It wasnât as big as the one in front of Gurnerâs abode, nor as traveled as the ones by the market grounds. The individual would have had a much better time gaining an audience if they had set up in either of those locations. No this individual was looking for a very âspecificâ audience.    Malco, Nieten, and the five travelers had moved into Doraâs estate. She had a large family with many kids so her house was fairly large by normal standards. Malco and two of the travelers, the sorceress and a traveled man named Hammond, shared a room with Doraâs three oldest children. Two of which were already out on the fields gathering synth.    Malco had worked with the children before, they helped fetch the sled when he found large metal boulders. Karrus, the second oldest, had stayed behind. Karrus had taken a liking to the guests. He is a tall lanky kid with short messy red hair and long arms that he claims help him dig the synth out of long holes he finds out in the fields.    âI want to be a guard like you!â He exclaimed jabbing a half broken stick he found through the air, still ignoring the yelling man outside.Â
   âYou think you have what it takes to be a member of the guard boy?âÂ
   Hammond sat on the floor, still wrapped in the blanket from his roll bed, sipping a morning glass of tea he had prepared shortly before.Â
   âYou know it! Iâm the best of all my siblings when it comes to fightân second only to Ann!â    Ann, or Annette if you wanted to get your knee punched in. Was Borrâs oldest child and only daughter. Ann had a good swinging arm from training under her father. Malco had seen her lift Scavenger Crabs from the soil with her own two hands, and would think twice before engaging in a test of strength against the little girl.Â
  Ann wasnât much older than Karrus, probably around 14 years of age, a little older than Malco was when he finally felt accepted by the village. It hadnât seemed like that long ago when he made his first walk into the town proper, but now that was nearly 20 years ago and he was getting to the age where he should be having kids himself.Â
   My how time flies.    ��Excuse me Darrion. I would like to kindly ask you to take your little milk box and GET OFF MY PROPERTY.â The voice was Doraâs.
   âSeems like sheâs finally gotten up!â Hammond mused âI wonder if that Darrion fella will be able to quell the beast now that heâs gotten her out of her cave.    âHe wonât. Maâs really scary if she doesnât get enough sleep, and sheâs been out all night for the past three weeks.â Karrus had dropped his âswordâ and was now leaning out the window sill watching his mother walk up to the frightened Darrion and begin to wave her saw wildly in his direction.    âSheâs gone mad! First the dairymen leave us, then Brucha refuses to answer are calls! Now the would be leaderâs gone insane! Truly this is the end of our fair Ellomyr! Grab your families and leave! Leave before the town burns around y~âÂ
  The saw went flying past his head and skidding across the courtyard, and the once loud Darrion was now running down one of the side streets back towards the market. Where he will likely give the same speech again, but with a few ânewâ additions.    The tea in Hammondâs glass shook as Dora slammed the door below them. She was... understandably, NOT, in a good mood.    As Malco left the room he called his plate, which now had a handle so he could tie it to his armor, and his pole to his side. Being wary not to hit Karrus as the boy ran past him and out the door.   Doraâs house was filled with handcrafted furniture. Many of the pieces had synth embedded in them, giving them a more bejeweled, or scaled, look. As he walked down the stairs he could hear Dora muttering to herself in the room below.    âSleazy little weasel... Always coming up here early in the morning... I should teach him a lesson the next time he shows his face around my door again....â She was biting on the remains of her finger nails. A habit she had picked up while working on the fortifications. Malco didnât want to disturb her, not while she was still holding the saw..    âHey Dora! Iâm just about to head out and complete my rounds, Nieten should be back in about and hour or so~â    âHey!â She interrupted.    Malco flinched.    âTell Nieten that she and Hammond have to stop by Bruchaâs shack later today. Iâll meet her there in an hour or so after I gather a few people to help talk him down.â    âBrucha? Iâve heard of him but Iâm sad to say in all my years of being out here I never met him in person... And I thought I was the recluse.â    Brucha lived on the outskirts of town. Removed from the other houses. Even more so then Malcoâs family farm was. He only came by a few years ago, but Malco had gone on a trip with the dairymen when it happened.    âBrucha is a strong fighter, and an even stronger tactician. Though lately he has been closing himself off to Gurnerâs attempts at negotiation. Probably thinks the town deserves to die for not listening to his warnings from earlier, but Iâll talk him out of it. After all he has to listen to me, I listened to him.â She swung the saw she threw at Darrion through the air. She was probably trying to seem playful.    Malco saw it as a threat.    He grabbed his jacket, put on his boots, and rushed out through door and towards the camp, being careful not to step on any Scavenger crabs. There had been more ever since he started fishing the boulderâs out of the Angry. Perhaps that had something to do with it? Maybe.    Nieten was already there by the time he made it to the camp, she was sitting on one of the benches made from a log split down the middle, long ways. Dora made it, apparently it was filled with bugs that made it not fit for carving.    Great.    She had her waterskin out and it seemed she just finished dumping the contents onto her face, for her hair and armor made her look like she just went for a swim. Maybe she had. The river was only a few paces away after all.    âHey Malco. Are you ready to take over guard duty for the next few hours?â    âUh, as ready as Iâll ever be. Though I got a message from Dora for you. She says you have to take Hammond out to Bruchaâs place. Sheâll meet you there in an hour or so with some people to talk some sense into him.â    Nieten stood up and shook the water from her hair.    âItâs really happening isnât it? This massive raid from the Margr. I even saw them with my own eyes and I still canât believe it. Up until this moment the only thing I feared for was the Iron wind finding us. Not some barbaric abhumans from the wildlands! If Dora is going o see Brucha, she must really be desperate. Heâs like a prophet to her, one doesnât usually disobey their prophets by showing up uninvited.â    She began to walk back towards Ellomyr down the same path Malco floated down to get here. She stopped and began to turn around.    âOh an~â    âI know, Iâll do both the accuracy tests and the required endurance tests right when I get done with my shift.â    She nodded and resumed her march back to town. ââââââââââââââââ This is my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
Job By the River
   It was a peaceful morning. It had been two weeks since Malco had gone to see Gurner about a job, and he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted.Â
   Gurner was curious, yes, but the old leader had no idea where to begin investigating, and many of the more common labor had already been taken. So he was given the last job they had left, guard duty. Fore even with his metal moving powers he was only slightly more valuable than the average farmer. Perhaps they thought he could deflect the blades of incoming raiders as they approached.    Silly thought.    Malcom's power wasn't nearly so precise and his skill with a blade was even worse. Both didn't really matter though since there were no raiders near Ellomyr, and according to his "boss" Nieten, the abhuman colonies were so far out they probably didn't even know of the town's existence. His days for the past two weeks were spent moving the Iron pole he pulled from the water 5ft up, stop, 5ft right, stop, 10ft left, stop, back to center, and down right before it hit the ground. "Precision Practice" as Nieten called it, Malcom knew it as hell.    He was to do these practices in sets of 100, twice a day, during the time Nieten was doing her rounds. For every one he had left to complete after she got back, he had to do and additional 10 push ups while staying suspended on a metal platform 3ft above the ground. Her "Endurance Training".    He didn't know how she did it, but she always seemed to know exactly how many he had left when she returned. This made skipping out on the exorcises quite literally impossible.    Maybe she had some sort of device near the camp? He would have to look for this later. For now he just sat back and tried to rush through the remaining sets. After all, she should be getting back any minute now.    There was a crack like lightning. It wasn't far off from the riverside camp where he had been doing his training. Surely there wasn't something out there was there? The forest had been quiet up till now but maybe one of the trees had fallen.    Then it happened again. With a loud crack that echoed through the trees causing ripples to disturb the riverâs flow near the edge.    Malcom lost his concentration. He wasn't quite sure why, but even though his power seemed to be entirely mental he often felt very physically drained after using it. As if he was using some unseen hand he had never used before. When the crack happened a third time he regained his composer and began to run into the woods, calling out to his pole which had dropped into the river and directing it to his hand.    By the time he got there the job was over. Several humanoid bodies laid crushed in the drit. Ichorus blood staining the pure clear water of the river. Nieten was cleaning off her signature clear sword and talking to a bunch a strange people that looked like they came from affar.    Aeonpriests?    Malcom was unsure, but judging by the way they dressed and the ample amount of mechanical objects affixed to their bodies, they had done allot of traveling in their past. If anyone was going to change his boring life and know the cure for his father's illness, it would be them.    Sadly, that was not the case however. It turns out all the adventurers were able to bring was bad news. Apparently hoards of abhumans were making their way to Ellomyr, a force so big the tiny town could be crushed in a night, half, if they decide not to do anything about it. As Nieten described to Gurner, "The end may be upon us."    It's been four days since then.    "Malco! How's the border look like out there? See any abhumans?"    "None yet Dora, but just as I'm sure the Tilling Stone's gonna sing again, they're gonna be here. I saw âm with my own eyes."    Dora Redmire had been the biggest influence in the construction of the watch since the news hit. Naturally she would take charge in this situation. Fore she had been pressing Nieten and by extension Malco to do this kind of job for weeks, even before there was any signs of abhuman activity in the area.    "Well Dora, I'd love to stay and chat. I really would, but I have to make it out to the river. Seem's like the forges are running low on metal again. Borr's been having those kids of his yell at me to get him more bolder's before the sun hits midday ever since I walked back into town. I had to give them the slip near Gurner's house in order to meet you here. Luckily, even now he's still willing to tell the little ones a story."    "Enough of Gurner's stories Malcom." She interjected "If Borr says he needs more metal you better be off to get it. I have to get back to woodcutting myself actually. The wall isn't going to build itself. It's a good thing those travelers have begun to help out with security. Not many people around here have talent like Nieten or powers like you." She began to walk back towards the field where some of the towns people had begun construction on the wooden barrier.    "Oh, and don't forget to visit your father every once in awhile. I know you have your duties to the town but you shouldn't leave your father in the care of his laborers for too long! We may all end up dead soon!" She began to trod off even faster now, boots kicking up drit from the small pathway between the houses.    It was a grim warning, but that didn't make it any less true.    He decided to run down the river in the direction of the battle that happened a few days before. If there were any good boulders hidden under the water there, he'd like to know before the enemy was right on top of them.    Fishing for metal was not engaging work. Malco reached out with his mind, and felt deep below the surface tugging on any metal he found. If the piece was small enough he put it in his bag, and if the boulder was big enough he would head back and call a sled to help him get it back. It wasn't as glorious as patrolling the wilderness, but it was something only he could do.    Then he found one, a massive stone of solid metal buried under the thick mud of the Angry. As he tugged upon the massive rock he could feel the veins in his head bulge from the strain. He pushed harder, and he felt a tug, but it seemed to be snagged. As he pulled harder and harder he began to sense the cracks within the object areas where the Angry had dug it's teeth and eroded the boulder.    He knew his powers were getting stronger. Thanks to the training he received from the travelers, he could now push blades away with ease, albeit on a smaller one to one scale. It still required a large amount a focus that he simply didn't posses for large scale encounters.    He he forced his mind deep into the cracks and pulled and pushed upon the surface he could feel the metal shatter as his mind almost blacked out from the stress. His constant training had made him stronger, but this was the most he could manage.   He found out later that he had passed out by the side of the river. He was found by Nieten and the Nano from the forest. They found him with a large hunk of metal that vaguely resembled that of a human hand. The chunk was brought back to Borrâs forge while Malco was asleep.    It was more metal than he had ever brought back in one session before. Out of gratitude Borr had some gauntlets and boots made for Malco. He thought them fitting due to the strange nature of the boulder he managed to uncover.    Borr claimed that the boots and gauntlets may help Malco with his fighting, since he seemed to be more adept with his power than his actual body. Perhaps he was right. Malco didn't care though, all he wanted to do was sleep. ----------------------------------------------- This is my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes
Text
The Magnet Boy
   Malco Harley is a Rugged Jack who Employs Magnetism.    Malco grew up in Ellomyr, lived there his entire life. Rancher's son, living just out of town, with a heard long-haired gallen that his father kept claiming was the best in the region.    Malco knew from the start he was different from the other rancher boys, he could move things, heavy things, without even touching âem. As such he was confined to the farm, kept hidden from the townsfolk around him.   His mother kept sayinâ she'd take him to see the Aeon Priests once they arrived, but they never did. Malco wasn't let off of the farm until he reached the age of 6, when he finally knew enough about his powers to keep them hidden from others, but it didn't help much. Just like any other kid who discovered they had powers he eventually wanted to show them off, and he did. It took awhile for people to get used to it. The stubborn, took almost 7 years, but stranger things happened this far out in the wilds.    People grew used to the sight of the boy flying through the air atop his metal plate, using a long metal pole he pulled from the Angry to heard his gallen.   And time went on.   With the Aeon Priests never showinâ up to Ellomyr, the people felt forgotten, lost to the rest of the world. Gurner was worried about the Trilling Stone's song, but most of the others accepted it for what it was. After all, it's how it has always been. "As sure as I am that the suns gonna rise tomorrow, Iâm sure the Trilling Stone's gonna sing again, only difference is the time" is what his father used to say, before falling ill a few months back.   A few days ago it had gotten worse and Malco came to a decision. If no Aeon Priest was going to answer Gurner's call, then why not make a few shins and use his powers to figure it out himself? After all, without medical treatment his father may not make it. ââââââââââââââââ This is my contribution to the Numenera2 Kickstarter for the Trilling Shard. The Kickstarter can be found here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/montecookgames/numenera-2-discovery-and-destiny/description
0 notes