Another loud click by an extended claw.
"The prime directive has been followed." the construct says finally, still not turning toward Tchokito. That said, considering the machine seemed to lack a face, perhaps such concepts did not apply here. Regardless, it still seemed focused on the flickering font of Positive Energy.
"The lighthouse has been maintained, even improved and has been made useful. The fog has increased the usefulness by considerable percentages. What was once useless, a light on a clear day, is now vital." A pause, a click like the meshing of two gears followed. "The well being of those arriving are not my concern. They are not part of the directive except as possible dangerous elements to the lighthouse."
There is particularly bright flare from the plinth, a burst of pure white light that illuminates the room for a moment before subsiding.
"You must leave. The construct says, voice lacking emotion but, perhaps, a trifle faster?, "I must focus on maintaining the planar link. This discussion is distracting and opposed to the prime directive. Leave, or you will be removed as a concern."
Tchokito makes a mental note that he and his companions need to develop a few hand signals. A "get ready for a fight" signal would be good right now, given how this conversation was going...
"Have you ever sailed a ship?" the tengu challenges the construct. "A light on a clear day can have many uses, and a light on a foggy day can be useless or worse. It all depends on the context. For example, there is a lighthouse--or actually a pair of lighthouses--at a harbor in Minata which is needed day or night, fog or sun. You see, there is a dangerous reef..."
He stops himself. "But of course, I can hardly trust telling you such things, given what you have already done. Who knows what you would do were I to tell you of how other lighthouses have become more useful?"
Tchokito waves a taloned hand. "Besides, you clearly already have your own definition of useful. It makes no sense and seems to have no relationship to what anyone else might think of use--we scarcely found any use for this light once we were becalmed!--but I suppose if you are fine with being attacked every time a ship sails here you have no need for advice on such things."
A long moment of silence fills the chamber after Tchokito's words die away, and the only sound is the endless grinding of the mirror and a distant whirr of gears and chains. The many limbs of the construct are still in motion around the glowing plinth, but others are stock-still, as if frozen. It is a thoughtful, pensive silence.
Then a long arm extended out from the construct toward Tchokito, several feet of dark black metal. On the end of the slender extension was a strange cylindrical object. Pointed directly toward the tengu, the witch momentarily fears it is a weapon of some kind and braces himself for an attack but no. Instead it is merely a tube filled with thick lens. To his amazement, the lens click and move. Once, in Tian Xia, Tchokito watched an aged jeweler ply his trade, a ratfolk of great renown. Tchokito recalled the man had worn a set of jeweler's lens, which had different lens that could be flipped for differing degrees of magnification. The construct clearly had something similar but an order of magnitude more complex and sophisticated.
"Skin temperature readings, breathing patterns and sweat production indicate stress but honesty." A loud click, "Information suggested deemed important for partial focus." A few more arms shift and wave, like some kind of unwholesome plant, turning toward Tchokito.
"You will discuss everything you know of lighthouses and their functions. You will do this promptly and without delay or attempt at deception. Then you will leave. Comply or measures will be taken to force compliance."
Tchokito is not quite certain what to make of the fact that this construct has such a capability. Why would the original creator give it such a thing? Or had it somehow added it to itself? If it had, where had it gotten the knowledge and understanding to do so?
Pushing such thoughts aside, the tengu points out, "Deals are much more eagerly and fully entered into than coercion. But I will begin."
He finishes describing the lighthouses in Minata he had been referring to--where they were built such that they lined up from the perspective of a ship only when the ship was approaching the safe passage through the reef.
He describes some of the other lighthouses he's seen--the Absalom Lighthouse, whose beacon can be seen for dozens of miles, leading ships to the harbor of the City at the Center of the World; Palin's Lighthouse, less impressive to suit the less impressive city of Korvosa; similar lights in ports in Minkai and Goka, and others.
Tchokito is a well traveled man, and has seen much of the world, in both Tian Xia and Avistan. The curious tengu has seen many lighthouses and observed much, so it takes awhile until his store of knowledge is exhausted. The construct remains silent during this, but with a sense of interest and study, the strange arm-like eye constantly surveying him, moving slightly. Still, eventually even Tchokito runs out of things to say, wrapping up with a long digression into river based lights and navigational aids.
A moment of silent passes, filled only the whirr of the machine. Then, without warning the construct says, "This information is deemed valuable and has been added to the ongoing informational matrix, to be considered and weighed." A sharp chime, like a tiny bell and then the weird arm points toward Hjalte, who is peeking around the door lintel.
"Humanoid." The machine says promptly, 'What do you know of lighthouses?" The huge Ulfen just shrugs, sword in his hand.
"Past experience indicates negative response equals no valuable information." Click. "You will now leave."
The arm swings back toward Tchokito, lens sliding in a dizzying pattern. It studies the tengu for a long moment and then it speaks. The voice is still a flat monotone and yet, despite that, the tengu gets a sense out of it. An air of desperation.
"Tengu. Are you well informed on the nature of portals and planes? The integrity of this portal is degrading rapidly and current protocol is not judged adequate to the task of preventing failure. Extrapolating from current trends and processing power, complete collapse is imminent."
"I specialize more in the disruption of hostile magics than portals and the planes, but I am familiar with the basic principles," Tchokito says cautiously. "If you will permit me, I could examine the portal more closely and see if there is anything I might be able to contribute."
He's not quite certain if the construct is referring to the portal he himself disabled or if it is referring to the pool here. Either way, however, a collapsing portal could well be very dangerous, so he is honest in his offer.
The construct wavers and Tchokito can imagine the dilemma facing the machine. On one hand it surely wishes Tchokito and the others to leave, being grit in it's perfectly constructed machine, flaws in whatever plan existed in the insane mind. On the other, clearly the witch had useful information and skills that could perhaps save the imperiled design. How long had it been since new information had been added to the databases?
Cheok croaked and added, in their secret tongue, "Are we going to look again?" The raven's voice was a strange combination of longing and concern.
"The others must go." The seemingly immobile machine finally said, voice clipped. "Distractions. You may approach." A greased click as arms wave and move, "Do not attempt deception or aggression or you will be removed as a danger."
Tchokito takes one step forward, over the lintel. The already bright light seems to grow in intensity, warm on his feathers. His skin starts to tingle, not painfully at first, but intensely, as if he had been standing out in bright sunlight all day. Slowly his muscles start to ache, eyes burning. The energy is too much, too much to get close.
Tchokito gives Cheok the slightest of nods. He understood both the longing and the concern perfectly. In truth he'd been leaning towards not looking, but... under the circumstances, he is not certain Eliyyah will be able to. Although...
"If I may suggest, Eliyyah here," he says to the construct, indicating the cleric, "Has experience with these exact devices. We will have a better chance of success if we both examine it. He had better success with the last one we encountered than I."
Turning to the Ulfen he says, "It is probably best if you wait for us downstairs. This should not take too long."
"Now, as this portal is leaking a significant amount of positive energy, any of us who approach will need to take the... odd precaution of harming ourselves. Possibly repeatedly. As painful as it will be, positive energy overload will kill us otherwise. That is why I am drawing my sword."
Assuming the construct does not object after his explanation, Tchokito draws his wakizashi and, after a moment to gather his resolve, quickly slices the back of one taloned hand before stepping forward. To Cheok he says, "Biting a toe whenever you start feeling overenergized may be sufficient for you."
He wonders, as he approaches, if the positive energy would be enough to heal the energy drain from the undead that still troubles him.
Hjalte and Oddný both look at Tchokito with confused shock. The huntress leans in closer, "You can't be serious. This thing is obviously insane and capable of gods only knows what magic. I know you see the best in things but Tchokito...this is foolhardy." Hjalte rumbles an agreement but then says, "We will wait around corner. Scream if you need us. Crazy birdman." With that he retreats out of sight, leaving Oddný alone and without support. She rolls her eyes and adds, "If you die and leave me alone with these two, I'll never forgive you. I'll hunt you down in the afterlife." She grabs Eliyyah's should and says, rather gently, "Let's wait outside."
The cleric hesitates, glances at the plinth but then nods slowly. The cleric seems less attracted to this portal then the last but perhaps that makes sense. Last time, it was built into a holy place for his dead god.
Then they are gone, leaving the tengu witch and Cheok alone with the possibly mad machine.
As they enter the overpowering aura of Positive Energy, Cheok lets out a sharp caw and, instead of biting a toe as suggested, yanks out a feather. Soon there is a little trail of black on the floor as they approach the glowing, dazzling portal. Each is replaced in moments by the sheer force, sprouting like strange mushrooms on the raven's skin. Tchokito's skin heals quickly too, leaving dried blood as the only trace of several wounds.
The construct surveys this technique for a moment silently, presumably adding it to some dusty tabulation deep in its memory. Or perhaps it already knew this and had spent centuries forcing living things into this aura and watching them expire.
Even with injuries, the intoxicating positive energy is hard to bear. It flows through him, a bit like being drunk or the dizzy thrill of standing in a high place, with no support. Living on the edge, or just over it. It is hard to slowly walk and not bound across the room, or even fly around the ceiling. One thing becomes clear, a few minutes in here are going to cure him of every scar, bruise and cut he has gathered over a lifetime of adventuring. This isn't just magical healing, but full immersion into growth.
Still, this is no time to lose focus. The witch reaches the plinth which is larger then he first suspected, the lip nearly at eye level. The bowl would probably be big enough to immerse a person in, if they crouched into a ball. The construct is a much larger as well, a silent hunk of dark metal bigger then five men and over seven feet tall. Deciding not to contemplate the danger, Tchokito turns to contemplate the plinth and the power source within.
Several things become apparent at once. Yes, this is a portal to the Positive Energy Plane. Thankfully a very small one, only allowing a bare trace of energy through, a mere shadow. More worryingly and this is obvious even to Tchokito's imperfect knowledge, the portal was very unstable and failing fast. The arcane bonds on this side of the portal were ancient and degrading. The witch could see the spells and bindings the construct must have tried, but it was like trying to hold a bridge together with dried mud and sticks. It might work for a day, but not against a flood. Worse, if this portal failed, it would not simply fizzle out. It was too old, too strongly working into the plinth around it, too deeply tapped into another plane. When it failed, much energy would be realized.
For a few seconds Tchokito worries that a truly cataclysmic catastrophe would erupt, something to ruin the world. But no. The witch let's out a sigh. Just enough to vaporize this entire island and a few square miles of ocean.
And it could happen at any moment.
Tchokito had thought his feathers were already standing on end simply from the energy in the area, but he finds there is a bit more they can give when he realizes what he's looking at.
He swears an oath in the old tengu tongue involuntarily. "This will do more than simply collapse when it fails. The entire island will be annihilated," he murmurs in Common, horrified.
There was clearly not much time. Not only because the overflow of positive energy would kill him were he to linger in spite of his self-injury, but because he couldn't tell just how close to total failure the portal was. So what could he do?
Repair was out of the question. Perhaps if he'd had a team of... ancient Azlanti portal-mages, it could be saved, but that was clearly impossible. Perhaps, rather than trying to save the portal, he could... shape, direct the forces of its failure? Perhaps bleed the energy off more slowly, so it was more controlled?
...perhaps direct them at the construct?
The tengu little liked killing. Some might argue that destroying a construct like this was not killing, but he had no taste for such technicalities. He'd worked hard to find another solution, but... he saw no sign that it would not proceed to make a giant artificial reef in addition to a fog bank or something of the sort were it to survive as things were going.
Could he live with that?
On the one talon, this was hardly a well-traveled waterway. It might well be another century before another ship came this way. On the other talon, this lighthouse had already lasted millenia. In such a long time, how many had died in spite of the infrequency of visits?
No, he had to end this if he could. But just how much the witch could do was certainly in question.
"If this continues much longer the lighthouse will certainly be destroyed. I'm going to try to at least control the release of energy so the damage is survivable," he states, knowing he has to say something as he begins to work. As quickly as he dares he starts picking out points he can modify the working, lines of power he can draw out to direct the power of the failing portal as he wishes...
There were many metaphors for doing arcane magical work, and Tchokito had heard many during his travels. It was an art like spinning fabric, some said, intricately connecting threads into a greater whole. Others said it was a science, like working on a vast machinal machine, were every part had its own rules and uses. Still others suggested it was more like a puzzle, slotting various pieces into a hoped for pattern.
Tchokito wasn't sure, and had a sneaking suspicion that such mental frameworks merely placed limits on magical practioners rather then helping. Still, they could be useful in a pinch. In his mind, he could see the lines of power, the literal chunks of magic floating here in that space between Planes, energy being shackled to use. if they could be adjust, perhaps-
"This conclusion has already been reached." The construct suddenly said, breaking his concentration. "It is obvious." There was the hiss and snap of a chain as two arms shot out and began caressing the air around the shuddering, glowing pool of Positive Energy. Cheok chirped in surprise at the quick action.
"What action are you initiating.." The machine began undoing his initial steps, like a child undoing his mother's careful knots. Not with any purpose of their own, and perhaps not even awareness of the design, but still perfectly capable of blocking any action.
"Destruction of the portal is not an option. It would violate the prime directive. Cease your actions and report other alternatives."
The plan was solid but clearly some distraction or sleight of hand would be needed.
"Saying the truth is unacceptable does not make it any less true," Tchokito snaps.
He stops himself and takes a breath, mentally praying to Desna to keep him alive through one more insane plan. How could he convince the construct to let him work, keep it from realizing what he was doing?
Perhaps...
"I can think of only one possibility," he states. It had said something about detecting his breathing, his heart rate to determine if he was lying, yes? Well, his breathing and heart rate were already quite elevated between the overload of positive energy and the possibility of instant death if this portal failed.
"If I loop back some of the energy overflow into the structure of the portal itself I could reinforce it, at least enough to give us another few days. At the small price of about doubling the chance of losing control of this entirely and blowing the island to the Boneyard, if not somewhere even more exotic."
It was not entirely a lie--he *would* be looping some of the energy back to the portal, and he did hope it would keep it from being immediately destroyed... because he'd also be using that loop-back to aim the explosion of energy at the construct.
There is a long, awkward period of silence, only broken by the sizzling and swirling of the portal. Already, after that minute struggle, the planar gap is already more unstable, with more energy pouring out of the small rift. Tchokito needs bigger and bigger cuts to keep the healing bounty at bay. Around him, the entire room is bathed in brighter light, no longer confined to the rotating mirror. The witch is happy this is a bare room of stone and copper, for who knew how plants or animals might interact with such a increase of healing powers. Death certainly but the tengu also had sudden visions of bursting jungles or cockroaches the sizes of small dogs. Perhaps this room had already held such wonders during the construct long term?
Arms and other appendages swing around Tchokito, circling him. Some are barbed, others hooked, scooped or even stranger. He does his best to remain calm, but it isn't easy under the scrutiny and the ceaseless waves of powers flowing through his body.
"Current energy levels are interfering with proper survey." the construct says, voice flat yet quickened. Does positive energy effect machines in some subtle way?
"Proceed with this plan. This proposal holds merit, although some aspects are beyond current understanding. Risk assement systems adjusted."
The construct grows still, watchful. He would have to be careful...and it wasn't an easy job. Tchokito was no planar engineer. The tengu was no stranger to energy and magical displacement, but he often interacted it out of intuition, guesswork and luck. This plan however, would require considerable fine tuning and careful precision. being slightly off could mean this entire room, or this entire island, being turned into molten rock for a few minutes.
Keeping his hands steady was all Tchokito could do. As if the pressure were not enough, the steadily increasing influx of positive energy would have given rocks jitters. But he knows the price of failure here, and so the witch calls on all his years of experience as he begins to put his plan into place.
He begins with the portal itself, putting some temporary reinforcements in to both buy him a few minutes and as a basis for the loop-back that he had spoken of. He knew even with the energies that would soon flow through the area it would not extend the life of the portal by more than a few minutes, but he hoped it would appear reasonable enough to the construct while giving him the time he needed.
The portal was, quite frankly, beyond the tengu's knowledge. But there were enough similarities to things he knew (perhaps because Azlanti knowledge had formed the basis for many modern schools of arcana? He pushes the thought aside for now) that he is... reasonably certain that his enchantments will work the way he wishes. Drawing out the power over time instead of all at once, and directing it in a single direction. A direction he hoped to aim straight at the construct.
It was delicate work in the best of circumstances, much less rushed, with the threat of annihilation looming over him while he repeatedly cut himself to avoid exploding from the energies he was absorbing. But somehow--perhaps Desna had heard his prayers?--the tengu finds himself steadying as the work moves forward, though he once or twice realizes he'd been drawn so deeply into the work he'd almost forgotten to injure himself until Cheok yanked out one of Tchokito's feathers.
Somehow, in what the witch is freely willing to acknowledge as a miracle, his working begins to take shape without an immediate disaster...
In Tian Xia there was a famous folktale of the Brave Dike Boy, about a young boy who, seeing a crack in a key dike, plugs it with his finger. He stands there all night in the freezing cold, holding back the tide. Morning comes, and he is rescued by adults who manage to brace the waterwork and save the town.
Tchokito felt like that boy now, except no adults were coming to save him.
Magic was pouring out of the portal now in increasing waves, battering both the crumbling defenses and hismelf. As quickly as he worked, they were washed away by the sheer power. But the tengu was not trying to stop the decline, the chance for that had passed. No, all he had to do was hold it back for a moment so he could redirect it. It was as if the little Dike Boy wanted to not only save his town, but also put out a dangerous fire with a carefully aimed spray.
Still, either luck or the gods favored him for his plan began to work. The feedback loops snaps into focus, the chain instantly sizzling with rippling surges of Positive Energy. For a single moment the sheer force actually solidifies in mid-air, taking on a glowing shape of magical runes. It was the first time Tchokito had ever seen such abstract magical concepts take physical form. It was mesmerizing, stunning, like water and light combined into a single strand. The portal's flowing slows, and then freezes. For a long second everything is stable, locked by its own stupendous pressure.
With a buzz of victory, the construct says,"You have done-" Then the portal erupts.
Positive Energy rarely had an effect on inanimate objects. It was the force of life, of growth, of change. Rocks, steel, glass was generally immune to such things. Witness the constructs stay of, perhaps centuries, in auras strong enough to kill any living thing. The stone floor, the copper mirror all were untouched by long exposure. But there was energy and then there was energy.
A geyser of pure, unadulterated positive energy straight from another Plane jets toward the construct. The heat and light is so intense, the air catches fire around it, a coruscating beam of sheer destruction. A bright glare fills the room and his eyelids are no defense. Indeed, if not for the healing aura, the witch (and Cheok) would have been flashed to cinders in moments. Instead they are set in a weird stasis in disintegration and healing, poised between matter and energy.
Ironically, the construct has no such defense and gains no healing from the beam. Instead it is suffused with so much energy it begins to glow, like iron in the forge. First red, then orange and soon bright white. Arms frizzle off, burned away as gears and chains fail. There is no sound in the blasting fury but Tchokito's mind fills in the details as he watches the helpless thing flail and toss in the tempest. The crack of steel bars, the clattering of cracked glass, the popping of overheated chains. A single red eye turns toward Tchokito, fixed on him despite the overwhelming intensity. Accusatory, confused, the witch can see it all.
Behind it the beam splashes against the stone wall, heating the rocks as well. Soon they are burning bright as a shooting star, baking. In moments they ripple like a waterfall and pour down in molten magma, and the jet of pure white rockets out into the open sky. Jets of fire surge everywhere at the inrush of oxygen, as every single square inch of the tower room becomes flame.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it ends. The portal sputters, chokes and dies. The light dies, snuffed like a lamp. All the fires go out, and Tchokito is left with a room full of rapidly cooling slag. There is no sign of the copper mirror, the ring in the floor burned away. The construct is a mere puddle of white metal, sizzling as it cools along with the black ruins of the melted wall.
Only the plinth seems unaffected, made by some power stronger then the released energies.
"That could be a problem." Cheok remarks, as usual overlooking the past in favor of the present. "Didn't we need that?"
Tchokito notes then, for the first time, he is naked. His clothes have been burned away by the savagery of the inferno. Worse, his non-magical gear is nothing but crisps. Behind him, a sooty outline of his silhouette is imprinted on the wall.
Tchokito stands stock-still for a long moment after the fury of the portal's failure fades, his mind and body still trying to catch up with the madness he had unleashed. He's dimly aware that his nerves can't quite tell whether they should be signaling exruciating pain after what they've just been through, the sensations of the past few moments staggering through his consciousness like drunken sailors.
Finally he breathes--had he stopped breathing in the midst of the flame, kept from suffocation just as he had been kept from incineration?--and moves. He subconsciously notes the slight crack as his taloned feet come free of the floor they'd begun to sunk into, taking a couple shaky steps towards the plinth.
His eyes stray over the cooling remnants of the construct, the memory of that 'eye' looking at him clear in the midst of the ruin. Had there been a way to save it, to fix its priorities instead of destroying it? If there had been, the tengu knew not what it was, but he cannot help but feel bad for destroying it. Not just because he has an aversion to killing in cold blood (this had been as close to self-defense as he could imagine without being in actual combat), but also because it had not been the construct's fault. It had needed to be destroyed entirely because of bad instructions.
He almost laughs when Cheok speaks. "We did indeed, Cheok," he says instead, looking to the plinth to see what remains there. "But for now I am simply grateful to have survived."
Tchokito turns to the stairs, suddenly worried for his companions. "Are you alive down there? It should be safe enough to come back up now."
"What a strange thing to be grateful for." Cheok offered. He flapped his wings, stirring up tiny twin clouds of ash. They fluttered around him, silent flakes of burned stone. "If we were dead, we wouldn't know it."
Animals were strange.
Silence greets Tchokito's call at first, a long enough pause to spike some worry. The building was still standing however, the floor was charred but in one piece. Surely if they were downstairs...
Finally, he hears Oddný's reply, "I am not sure safe is a word that applies to you Tchokito." Slowly the trio re-appears at the top of the stairs. Reflecting, Tchokito reflects it was probably for the best that Eliyyah did not remain. Who knew if the cleric would have gone along with his crazy plan.
Then again, perhaps the crazed cleric could have saved the portal as it was?
Ah well, Tchokito had offered, not much else he could have done with such a suspicious construct.
His friends reach the stairs and look around. "What's the construct?" Oddný asks, eyes sweeping the charred and ashen room. "What happened..."
Hjalte toes the cooling heap of slag on the floor with a heavy boot. It sizzles the leather slightly but little more. "Birdman has powerful magic." The big Ulfen turns his head toward the tengu witch, "Birdman should use more often. Handy in fight."
Eliyyah, oddly silent, wanders over to the quiet, cold plinth.
There is just a hint of a grin in Tchokito's eyes as he looks at Oddný, but he shakes his head as Hjalte speaks. "It was not my magic, but that of our goal here... unfortunately. It was so unstable it was at the point of exploding. I merely focused that destruction in the direction of the construct, and even so I and Cheok only survived because of the incredible quantity of positive energy involved."
He croaks a rather embarrassed laugh. "As you might tell from the... state of my equipment."
Nudity wasn't quite the issue for a tengu as it would be for a human, with their smooth, nearly hairless skin, but it was still somewhat... awkward.
He turns to Eliyyah and the plinth. "Can anything be done now? Or must we grope after the next without the guidance we would have gotten here?"
In colder climes Tchokito bundled up like everyone else, because you had to. At the Crown of the World, you spent months trapping in musty, sweaty furs or you died. Not much of a choice, unless you had some serious resistance magic. But in more temperate claims, Tchokito did not wear as much as humans and dressed more for function then fashion.
Still, it did mean his friends were not distracted from matters at hand, which would probably not be the case if Oddný or Hjalte went about naked. Cheok of course, thought the entire thing with clothes was highly amusing although even he accepted the usefulness of pockets. Once Tchokito had, in passing, suggesting finding a tailor to make him a bandolier and the raven was so offended he didn't speak to the tengu for a week.
Animals were weird.
The tengu steps over to the cleric as he asks the question. The strange man ignores him for a long moment but says-
With strength and patience all his grievous loads are borne,
And from the world's rose-bed he only asks a thorn.
Tchokito blinks and sees, deep down in the now nearly empty bowl, a tiny flicker of light. Mere dregs of light, tiny droplets of glowing liquid nearly lost in the deep shadows of the plinth. Indeed, the only light in the whole chamber is foggy daylight coming from the (now doubled) windows.
"The connection is not lost." Eliyyah says, voice soft and quiet, quite unlike his usual unhinged whirling. "What we are asking, is only the barest capability of these objects. A primer." The man frowns, staring down into the black bowl. "I can do it, but I need total concentration, to focus on this above all else. Do you have any spells that could help?"
Tchokito hesitates a long moment, thinking over his options. He could think of spells that might have helped... but he had none prepared, and the time was short.
"I have nothing for focus... but I may have another way to assist," he states. "A last flicker of power from earlier. Perhaps I might use it to reinforce what remains here."
He examines the plinth with its drops of light, looking for how he might best channel the power he had absorbed earlier from the elemental portal into it to make Eliyyah's task easier.
Eliyyah says nothing to this plan, still staring into the depths of the nearly empty bowl. Tchokito slowly examines the shattered remains of the wards, connections and structure of the portal and plinth. To his surprise the plinth itself is as intact as ever, apparently unmoved by the terrific energies unleashed a few moments ago. The same could not be said of the arcane fabric.
It was in tattered shape, battered not only by the eruption of positive energy but decades (centuries?) of the construct tinkering. In any case, it was far beyond his skill to actually repair to full glory. Jump-starting it with a surge of power very might work. It wouldn't last very long and would fully destroy any chance of repair but it would work. There was one other danger. Such a flash of power would resonate on the other side of the portal as well, brief but real.
There would be a moment of connection between the two planes again. This was not that dire of a danger, because the protections preventing another explosion were still there. But there would be a possibility of something small slipping between the cracks, draw by that flash of power. A predator hunting whatever passed for prey in the Positive Plane. Nothing too large could slip through, the sheer size and scope of the portal prevented that but still....it would be unpleasant.
The tengu taps a talon on his beak for a moment as he considers the dangers. He can't think of a better way to accomplish what they need, which means preparing for the risks.
"Hjalte, Oddný, what I'm about to do may allow a monster through this portal," he states, deciding that the inaccurate term is as much explanation as he can give. "It shouldn't be a very dangerous one given how small the portal will be, but Eliyyah and I may not be able to react immediately if his work is not yet done. Be ready."
Once everyone is in position, Tchokito focuses within. What he needs is a controlled flow of power, not a single sudden burst. With all the skill he can muster the witch draws a small portion of the extra energy still roiling within him out and starts to weave it into the ruined portal.
Very slowly, Tchokito can feel a trickle of power leave his body and aura, flowing into the remains of the portal. Behind him Oddný and Hjalte prepare themselves as best they can, weapons out, a few feet away. he'd rather them stand closer, but considering the wise of Ulfen swords....a bit of swinging space was required. The huntress breathes deeply and Tchokito can hear her talking to herself.
'What kind of monster, I wonder.."
But by then the witch is deep in concentration. It is a tricky business, slowly pouring out extra essence into a ancient artifact, doubly so for one already damaged that day. As is often the case for complicated magic he taps into his indefinable connection with Cheok, the raven a source of strength and calm. At least on a magical level. The bird stays on his shoulder, digging in tightly, very alert and curious about the procedure.
The power flows and the glow at the bottom of the bowl brightens slightly, pulsing ever so faintly.
"Yes." Eliyyah breathes. Tchokito glances over and sees the man's body is taut, nearly shaking with effort. Sweat beads on his face, his hands stretched over the bowl. Tchokito has no idea what the cleric is doing, but clearly it is draining. Voice shaking he grunts, "More."
Tchokito obliges, pouring more power. The bowl pulses again, the dregs rippling and seeming to grow. They start to swirl, a tiny miniature whirlpool of bright white light.
"More." Eliyyah says with effort, and the witch gives the portal more excess arcane power.
The bowl is half filled now and more unstable then ever, whirling and thrashing, a veritable tempest. For the first time Tchokito can sense the raw power there, hidden away at the bottom. Not the energy he has poured in, that has just been a catalyst, but a surge from the other Plane. Somehow, Eliiyah is holding it back with pure willpower, stopping another jet of raw arcana.
'Almost..." Tchokito puts in the last of the overflow, and breathes in. It feels odd being both normal and feeling drained. The witch has just enough time to realize he feels very healthy and whole for the first time in weeks.
The portal pulses and ELiyyah says, "I have it, we must-"
There is a flash of bright, sizzling light and something leaps out of the plinth. Eliyyah falls back onto the floor, shouting in confusion. The portal goes out, flickering to pure black.
But the room is not dark because a floating orb of light is hanging in mid-air, dazzlingly bright. It is formless, shapeless, reminding Tchokito of the witch's lights that hover over bogs or swamps. To the witch's surprise he can see, with his new sight, it has an aura. It is a living thing...to some degree.
With growing speed it starts to flutter about the room, like a moth caught in a jar. This way and that, a tiny comet trailing light. It circles Tchokito's head, pausing near Cheok who tilts one shiny eye toward it. Then it darts over toward Hjatle who, unsure what to do, vaugely waves a sword. It ignores hima nd floats toward the cieling.
"Tchokito..?" Oddný says but it is Eliyyah who answers.
"The Positive Plane. The Forge of Creation. It is where all living things get their spark, their life force. That is the start of a soul."
Tchokito watches in wonder as a fragment of divine essence travels the room. His learning has not prepared him for this. Was it dangerous? Did they have to fight it? Could it even live here?
It floats toward the floor, reaching the still sizzling remains of the construct. It seems interested in the destroyed machine, circling the slag heap. Eliyyah, still lying on the stone, frowns and says, "Wait, stop-!"
But it is too late. The floating orb glows brightly and then sinks into the fallen construct. The light vanishes as if it had fallen into water, and all is still and quiet.
Then the melted metal ripples, slowly at first then faster. It seems to re-heat, the orange metal turning white-hot again. The strange pile starts to rise and heap on itself, regaining some measure of cohesion. Soon is a waist-high pile of moving, molten steel, turning this way and that, looking like some fiery ooze. Under it, the floor is scorched and burned from intense het, flagstones cracking.
In the goopy mass a mouth appears, an open gash of white hot incandescence. Drops of steel drip from it, splashing into the twisting body. It lets out a gurgling, rasping roar and hurls itself forward.
Tchokito's hand automatically goes to his waist, where until moments ago his pouch of components for his spells had been. He croaks in dismay as he realizes that it had, of course, been annihilated along with the rest of his non-magical equipment. Mentally going over his remaining spells, the witch's heart sinks as he realizes the only spells that do not require something from that pouch will be of no use against a mass of molten metal.
"Retreat. We've done what we came here for," Tchokito says to the others, urgently. "Plunging blade or arrow into molten steel is unlikely to help the situation, and without my spell components I have no magic to aid."
Even as he speaks the tengu bends over to pick up what little remains of his equipment. He keeps his blade in one hand and stands near Eliyyah, trying to draw the ooze's attention until the cleric can get to his feet.
Tchokito doesn't need to urge the others very much. The roaring, sizzling mass of animated molten steel seems quite persuasive on its own. Even Eliyyah usually immune to such concerns seems easy to lead away, the madman muttering to himself, "I know the way, I know the way."
Cheok leads the way down the stairs, the rest running after him. The oozes roars again and gives chase but is, helpfully, not very fast. It slithers and crawls across the floor, sending up a halo of smoke and steam as it burns the ground.
Tchokito, Oddný, Hjalte and Eliyyah hit the stairs at a dead run, sprinting down them. Their biggest risk is tumbling head over heels on the narrow staircase and causing a general slide. The tengu's stomach churns every time he misjudges a stair but they managed to reach the next level down in one piece. They are all breathing hard, although Tchokito notes is probably the slowest, apart from from Eliiyah. This isn't surprising considering the general athletic nature of Ulfen and his allies lifestyle choices. Hjalte was a pirate of some type and Oddný dove off cliffs for fun. Crazy.
Behind them the ooze follows down the stairs, charring stone as it came. In the room beside them the construct kept turning the great gears, driving a mechanism now destroyed. How long would they mindlessly turn the great wheels? Would the magic binding them eventually break down and fail? Or would it be until floor and leg was worn to dust after countless centuries?
"Well, now what?" Oddný says, after taking a deep breath and glancing up the stairwell, where a glowing orange light is growing. "I don't mind running, but...whatever that thing is, ooze or machine, it is unlikely to get bored and stop."
Tchokito takes a moment to think. "I do not know... perhaps it has gained some echo of the construct's last moments, a rage at my destruction of it? If so it might well be pursuing me in particular. We might be able to use that..."
He wracks his brain for any ideas. He could... lead it into something dangerous for it? Would seawater harm the sizzling ooze? Would cold make it congeal?
"Nor would I leave this construct here to turn meaninglessly now that the mechanism it drives is gone. Hjalte..." Tchokito pauses briefly to look over the mechanism and the construct for a way to release it.
"Break that, there," he says, pointing at his best guess. "I will see if it targets me in particular. I still have my flight for the day, if it is foolish enough I may be able to lure it to its destruction."
He takes up a position a little ways away from the stairs, waiting for the ooze to come down.
Hjalte shrugs, lifts and his shining sword. It gleams in the gloom for a moment then swings down with startling speed at the indicated chain. It cuts through the aged, brittle metal like a knife through butter, sinking deep into the wooden beam behind it. Hjalte pulls it free with a tug, using his foot as leverage.
The slowly circling construct keep walking for a few moments, inertia carrying them. As their halters grow slack however, and resistance dies away, they slow. With much creaking and bending, the beings shuffle to a stop, in what may have been decades...centuries? Dull eyes scan the room but they do not speak. Tchokito wonders, perhaps, if they had not been designed with such parts. They stare at Tchokito dumbly, clearly seeing him and his friends but unable to react. Cheok flutters over, lands on one and blinks at his reflection in stained brass.
Meanwhile, Tchokito waits by the stairs. The light in the stairwell grows to a bright white, harsh and glaring. A strange slurping, sizzling noise fills the air, like someone tramping through thick mud. Then the ooze-like thing appears, pouring down the stairs like a waterfall in slow motion. Rivulets of burning metals trace down the stones, etching strange designs. More pours down, bubbling like soup left on the pot too long.
"Tchokito!" Oddný shouts, trying to shade her eyes from the blinding light.
It pours out onto the landing, spreading slightly before re-forming into a coherent mass. Tendrils reach out in all directions, seemingly blindly seeking something. The air grows hot in the chamber, smoke rising off the melted machine. Then, without warning, it starts to lurch toward Tchokito, like a dog catching a scent.
So it is not random.
"It does seem to be seeking me in specific," Tchokito states, voice calmer than he feels. He backs away from the ooze, head cocked to one side so he can watch it more from the corner of his eyes instead of searing his vision looking directly at it.
"Keep that construct away from it, and try to lead it downstairs. I have a plan for how to be rid of it, but I don't want to test what it will do if it gets close to another source of metal."
He leads the ooze in a large circle around the room, trying to keep it away from his companions and the structure in the middle while working his way back around to the stairs. The tengu hopes the stairs will have cooled by the time he gets back to them...
Oddný says, voice both confused and resigned. "Tchokito, you can't be serious. You want to spilt up again? Last time, you blew up the room!" But then the ooze is sliding toward them, slow but extremely dangerous. Even at this range, smoke starts to rise from Oddný's clothes and gear. Rolling her eyes, she pushes Hjalte toward the stairs saying, "After this island, I'm never leaving you out of my sight, Tchokito!" Then, under her breath, "Or never following him again..."
The room became a strange three cornered dance, with the ooze following Tchokito, the witch trying to lead it and everyone else staying out of the way. It went well at first, with Tchokito leading the burning slagheap in a slow circle around the room while the others hid. The ooze bubbled and boiled after him, thankfully slow enough for the tengu to stay ahead.
He had just reached the stairs when something unfortunate happened. The awakened molten pile was still chasing him, but even as it did so, a strange protrusion formed along the arcing back. A jutting horn that suddenly opened and spit a blob of burning metal!
The heated spatter hits Tchokito across the body, droplets of burning metal instantly burning through his feathers and into his skin. Searing pain sizzles up his nerves, and a whiff of charred plumage fills his nose. In a moment the metal has cooled, tiny bits of metal latched to his body.
Clearly this thing is not to be trifled with.
Tchokito clamps his beak against the pain, stumbling only a little as the hot metal burns him. He picks up his pace and runs for the stairs, then takes them two at a time once he reaches them.
Once he's opened a bit more distance between himself and the ooze he slows again. Focusing inward he draws on the uniquely tengu magic within to sprout a pair of dark-feathered wings. Now all that remained was to survive long enough for the ooze to chase him to the window and hope it followed him when he jumped.
Tchokito darts up the stairs, leaving his friends behind. Well, not all of them. It would take more then a burst of speed and a flaming ooze to lose Cheok. The glossy raven ghosts after him, spiraling up the stairs with ease. It showed the seriousness of the situation that he bird did not make a crack about how odd he found steps.
Tchokito reached the plinth room at a dead run, feet barely touching the cooling, smudged stones. The ooze was close behind, pouring up the stairs in a reverse waterfall faster then the witch would have liked. Indeed, he could feel the furnace like heat on his back, scorching feathers. The tengu barely had time to summon his wings and jump on the ledge before the molten magma caught up to him.
"Ha, yes!" Cheok exulted, "Your real shape!" Cheok always held that Tchokito's true form had wings, and treated his usual land-locked speed as a strange aliment, like someone missing an eye.
"Show him what we can do!"
But it was not as easy as launching himself into the air. No, he had to time it just perfectly. It was too much to hope that the ooze would just blindly follow him into empty space. He would have to entice it, lure it until the molten machine had no chance to run back.
So Tchokito crouching on the crumbled edge of the blown-out hole in the wall, claws digging into shattered and burned stone. The air smelled hot and sulphurous, a tang of metal on his tongue. The ooze didn't pause at the stop of the stairs, it simply threw out tendrils and rushed toward the witch. It took all his willpower to withstand the heat and light for a few moments to time it right-
He almost gets it right, but the gelatinous blob is a hair faster then he thought. At the last moment Tchokito throws himself out the window into the misty cool air. With a gurgling roar the white-hot creature follows him, pouring out of the window like a thick soup. At the last however, a thin tendril snakes out and lashes Tchokito back, even as he opens his wings to glide.
But the rushing wind dissipates most of the heat quickly and what might have been a searing blow turns into a small burn. The tengu pumps his wings once, gaining speed. Tchokito risks a look back and sees the boiling ooze rushing down, down....With his avian vision, Tchokito can see the creature take the shape of a raindrop, smooth and spherical, the rushing wind rippling the surface. It writhes in confusion or perhaps anger for a long second.
Then it hits the ground with the sound quite unlike Tchokito has ever heard before. A mix between a drppped egg and a melting frying pan.
Tchokito has had quite enough of pain today.
As if the cycle of annihilation and healing earlier had not been enough--he felt its echo every time he stopped to think--now he had cooling metal burning his feathers again.
But at least it might be over for today.
He can't relax, however. Not just yet. Oozes are... strange enough on their own, and this one stranger still. There's no guarantee even that great of a fall would have harmed it significantly.
"It's a pity I so often use my wings only when in danger," he comments to Cheok, partly in response to the raven's earlier words and partly because, now that the pain was fading, he was remembering that flying was enjoyable. "Perhaps there is a way for me to use them for longer in a day... but for now, I wish to make sure that ooze is not going to pull itself back together."
The fact that he'd have a bit of time to fly and... cool down didn't hurt, either.
And so the tengu circles above for a minute, watching to see if the ooze will keep moving.
Feeling more like a vulture then a raven, Tchokito slowly circles down toward the ooze. He keeps his distance but he also wants to see if the burning patch of sizzling white moves.
Catching his mental feeling, Cheok says, "Unless you start to smell like one, the flying isn't bad."
Looking down, the ooze seems quite stationary. It is still vert hot however, as smoke and steam rise from it's location, spiraling up into the same thermals Tchokito is riding. Glancing around, Tchokito can see little through the still rather thick fog. It is dissipating but such a thick bank will probably take hours to fully vanish. Still, above the sun is starting to burn through, and there are gaps in the rolling white, enough to glimpse shimmering seas in all directions. The air felt fresh and clean, the promise of a new day.
Once he can see the ooze is immobile, Tchokito relaxes just a little. Perhaps the impact from the fall had truly killed it, in spite of it being made of molten metal, more or less. Or at the least rendered it stunned long enough for them to leave.
The tengu sighs and comments to his familiar, "I doubt even a vulture would want to pick over this particular corpses. A pity it ended this way, but at least the danger should be past now."
With that, he circles back up to the top of the lighthouse, as much to enjoy a bit of somewhat worry-free flight as anything else, then soars in the way he came. Landing by the stairs, he walks down to see if the others have finished making their way out, casting one last glance over each room as he does so.
The top room is empty when Tchokito glides into it, neatly landing on the charred, sooty floor. His clawed feet leave very distinctive footprints behind him, much like Cheok's. Together they survey the melted ruins of the mirror, the runny remains of the copper track and the charred pile of leftover ooze. The plinth is blasted and blackened as well, the light extinguished, leaving the room dark. On the wall, Tchokito had see his shadow, burned into the stone.
Down the stairs, Tchokito glances around. The mechanism stands silent now, the harness destroyed by Hjalte's blow. The constructs still stand there though, unharmed but rather dully. The tengu worries but then recalls the island does still have another construct on it and, even if slightly mad itself , can probably help.
The next floor down, the air is still damp and shreds of fog hang in odd corners. The floor is dotted with the rounded tops of the columns, like weird tables. A crumbled arch stands in one corner, stones piled around in an untidy pile. The spell is broken and not even a wisp of a breeze flows out of the portal from the Plane of Air.
Farther down, Tchokito still shivers. Not only because them room is quite cold (it is), but because the witch can see feel the wounds. The remorhaz corpse slumps in a corner, still as stone. Frost is forming on the scales, but that won't last long. The air is already returning to normal tempature.
Tchokito and Cheok finally leave the lighthouse, stepping out into the slowly brightening day. Oddný and Hjalte are waiting for him, Eliyyah sitting on a stone nearby. The huntress grins and says, "I caught a glimpse of you flying. So, we have won?" Hjalte lets out a growl of approval but then Tchokito notices another figure.
That of the wire construct, standing as still as a steel post driven into the ground. There was no emotion shown, none of the tells of a human and yet....it looks tired. Worn out, as only a hard-working machine can.
"The other..." it says, voice squeaked with rust, "is no longer active then?" A pause, "Then I am the last functioning construct made by my Master." The sheer weight of time behind those words is immense. When this construct was made, Tian Xia was a collection of hovels and the tengu people little more then swamp dwelling wanderers.
Tchokito gives his traveling companions a quick nod. "It does seem that it is over. The ooze remains where it fell."
He then turns to the construct, head turning with avian swiftness. "The construct at the top is destroyed, yes. It left us no other choice. But there were others. Ones shaped rather like beasts of burden, turning the mechanism within. They seem rather lost now that those mechanisms are inoperable. Perhaps I could show you?"
Other questions bubble up within him now, about what this construct will do now, about its creator, but the tengu sets them aside for the moment. The others he is not certain of, but if any construct here can feel emotion it is this one, and he does not wish to press it.
The construct silently assents and Tchokito returns to the tower, but this time not along. behind him, moving with slow grated speed is the construct, wire-meshed feet surprisingly quiet on the stone floors. It doesn't take long for them to reach the wayward construct who are still standing where the tengu had left them. They see the ancient construct behind the witch, but betray no reaction.
"Latter-day creations." The construct finally says after a long silence. "Advanced symptoms of my brother's madness. His malfunctioning vision made into a physical act." A gear turns, and a chain rattles, almost like a sigh. "Others would understand it better, phrase it more clearly. I am fit only for formulas." A trace of bitterness or was Tchoikito hearing what he expected?
"Yet," the construct goes on, "Not without form and function of their own. Lesser creations they may be, yet they too are in the same lineage as myself. Produced, second-hand, by the same creator. Perhaps I could, like solving an algebraic equation to find a basic proof, work backward through them to learn about myself?"
"Is that what you wish?" The words are out of Tchokito's beak almost before he realizes, but having begun, he decides to press on. "The world is so much wider than this island, and no doubt your creator would have seen more of it. You could travel with us, see that wider world, see if it does not teach you something you could never learn here?"
He shuts his beak with a firm click, wondering if perhaps he's pushing too much. After a moment the tengu sighs and switches topics.
"It is a pity I could not find another way to... end the madness. Now these are left bereft of purpose, and the potential of their creator is forever lost. But I could find no way to break through his madness."
The construct is still as ever, inhumanely motionless. If he didn't know better, even now Tchokito could almost mistake it for a statute or a strange piece of art. Yet unseen wires and chains clattered inside, gears snapping together.
"It is possible. Without data it is impossible to make accurate projections, but preliminary calculation suggest it. A wider subset of information would allow for a new set of axioms to be explored." A pause as the eyeless face seems to scan Tchokito. "Indeed. Your offer holds great merit."
A slight buzz, "However, priorities must be ordered properly. I will not go and leave these products of my brother's madness alone. It would be against the final dictums of my Creator. No, I will stay with them, educate them and draw them out of the shadow." Seeing Tchokito's slightly crestfallen face the construct goes on, "But not forever. Now that I am truly the last, I am free of my duty to this place. When my task with these are finished, we will go forth into the world. This island has the requisite resources to construct a watercraft of suitable durability. I have the surveys of a thousands vessels in my memory. With the help of this lesser sons, we will construct one and venture forth into the wider world. "
A creak of an arm, "Perhaps we will meet you there, Tchokito, as fellow explorers."
Tchokito gives the construct a slight bow. "Perhaps we shall. In that case, I think it is time I bid you farewell. My companions are likely anxious to return to the ship, the fog is lifting, and I," he waves a hand at his bare feathers, "Need to retrieve a change of clothes."
He bows more deeply and formally. "Farewell, fellow explorer. May the stars guide your wanderings to greater wonders."
Once that conversation is over, he returns to the others at the bottom of the lighthouse. "The fog should thin enough for the ship to travel soon," he comments as he reaches them. "We should be aboard when it does... and I need a new chang of clothes." The tengu caws a laugh. "Come, let us return to the ship."
Tchokito leads the way back to the boat they'd left at the water, taking his time so as to take in the surroundings here one last time. A part of him wishes he had the time to examine these ruins and the ancient constructs here more, to speak to the remaining construct, but... while he is less sensitive about such things than most humans, he does feel awkward standing around in naught but his feathers. Though what truly contributes to his sense of nakedness is the lack of his spell components.
With luck, he'll be able to replace those on the ship, somehow.
The construct considers Tchokito's words for a long moment and then says, "Ah yes. Clothes. A curious mortal convention. One that you seem less attached to then others." A pause and then a halting, somewhat grating bow in return. A counter-weight drops into place and the ancient being moves smoothly upward. "It has been quite informational to meet you, Tchokito. It has brought many new variables to my attention. Thank you for this addition to my knowledge. " With that the wire-bound machine turns toward the wayward and dull constructs for a lesson that may last centuries.
Tchokito meets the others downstairs who seem glad to leave. Still, at least they aren't fleeing like the last island. As they clamber down the gravel-laden path to the shore Oddný asks, with a shrewd look on her face, "So, he turned you down?" Seeing Tchokito's surprise the woman grins, "I knew you'd ask him. To someone like you, a walking talking thing from ancient days would be like Hjalte finding a magical sword. Of course you'd want to keep it." She shrugs and adds, "Sorry he didn't want to come.
The four of them find the small whaleboat where they left it, among the 'dead' constructs of the past. Tchokito can't help but look at them and wonder what each had been like in 'life'. If the two survivors he had met were any indications, they would have been....potent personalities. What wonders Azlant must have held, that this would just have been a workshop!
Still, he is somewhat eager to get back to the Linnorm's Breath. It would be just his luck to survive all of that and get eaten by a mundane predator on the seashore. He'd feel better having his magic back and under his control. Cheok flutters overhead, and Tuuli, Lyn, Sade above that. Through the dimmer connection with the others they tell him of their own little adventures exploring the foggy island. Nothing too amazing but at least the tengu knows there isn't a pirate fleet just out of sight.
Hjalte rows them back out to the Ulfen ship, where everyone is waiting for them. Well 'waiting' as sailors do, working. Swabbing decks, coiling rope, repairing sails. The work onboard ship never ends. They tie up the whaleboat and begin clambering up the rope net that serves as a entryway. Oddný goes first, shouting, [b]"Make way! Make way for another triumphant return of our hero, but avert your eyes. His clothes have been sacrificed for a higher duty!" A laughing cry goes up.
If tengu could blush, Tchokito would have turned scarlet as he managed to get up on deck, naked as the day he had been born. Luckily, it could have been worse. The Ulfen are far more comfortable then nudity then other cultures Tchokito has encountered and even mixed gender bathing was common among them. Also, a thick layer of feathers helped with modesty.
Kristtór Hallmundur greets them middeck, the Captain wearing his usual salt-stained leathers. A rising sea-breezes tugs at his wild beard when he says, "Well? Success? Do we have a heading?"
Tchokito meets the others downstairs who seem glad to leave. Still, at least they aren't fleeing like the last island. As they clamber down the gravel-laden path to the shore Oddný asks, with a shrewd look on her face, "So, he turned you down?" Seeing Tchokito's surprise the woman grins, "I knew you'd ask him. To someone like you, a walking talking thing from ancient days would be like Hjalte finding a magical sword. Of course you'd want to keep it." She shrugs and adds, "Sorry he didn't want to come."
Tchokito croaks a laugh. "It was that obvious? Regardless, it was not so much that they did not want to come as it was that they thought the remaining constructs needed... instruction. A worthy reason to stay."
He shrugs slightly. "It may be for the best. If we were to return to Avistan with them aboard they would be at risk from those whose curiosity--or avarice--is greater than their morals."
Cheok flutters overhead, and Tuuli, Lyn, Sade above that. Through the dimmer connection with the others they tell him of their own little adventures exploring the foggy island. Nothing too amazing but at least the tengu knows there isn't a pirate fleet just out of sight.
The tengu feels a brief, irrational spike of fear realizing that he could have accidentally fried one of his raven friends with his final desperate trick with the failing portal. He knows it was highly unlikely, and obviously it did not happen, so he does his best to shove the thought aside.
Oddný goes first, shouting, "Make way! Make way for another triumphant return of our hero, but avert your eyes. His clothes have been sacrificed for a higher duty!" A laughing cry goes up.
If tengu could blush, Tchokito would have turned scarlet as he managed to get up on deck, naked as the day he had been born. Luckily, it could have been worse. The Ulfen are far more comfortable then nudity then other cultures Tchokito has encountered and even mixed gender bathing was common among them. Also, a thick layer of feathers helped with modesty.
Tchokito tries to play his embarrasment off by giving the crew an exaggerated bow as he steps on deck. [b]"Fortunately a tengu, unlike a human, is only as naked as the day he was born if his feathers are plucked," he jokes.
Still, he is glad enough when Captain Hallmundur approaches him, as it gives him an excuse to get out of the center of attention. "Yes, we do have a heading," the witch says, nodding at Elliyah. "Not that we were concerned about it, but no one will ever follow this path again, though."
The Ulfen captain smiles broad enough to part his beard. "Excellent! You have done it again." he claps the naked tengu on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock him over. "Gorum and Gozreh watch over you, my boy." Turning toward Eliyyah the Captain says tot he crew, "Now, get this man some clothes! We can't have our hero be naked."
Some sailor tosses Tchokito his bag from below with a laugh. Eliyyah and Hallmundur retire to the helm, the crazy cleric being gingerly led as usual. In short order men are sent aloft to set the sails and begin the process of leaving the construct island. The tengu notes that Fej is one of the topmen and wonders if the anarchist is settling in any better.
Unlike the last island, which they left behind a tortured cataclysmic mess, spirits are much higher this time around. Everyone got back safe and sound (Tchokito's clothes aside), Oddný tells a stirring tale of the lighthouse battles and there is a growing sense that Tchoktio can lead them out of any Azlant danger. The tengu tries his best to dissuade them of this but is unsuccessful.
A barrel is rolled out on deck and with Hallmundur's permission, measures of grog are issued to all hands. All gladly take some except Findeladlara the elf passes on a share, contending herself with water. Hjalte is soon roaring drunk and shouting, "Music, music!"
There is general agreement and a small collection of drums and harps are found, and impromptu music fills the breezy night air. It is a dark party, as fires on deck are too dangerous even in calm seas, but the Moon rises shortly, bathing everything in soft white light. The whole crew is there, apart from a few watchmen aloft to look for danger, singing, dancing and playing the instruments. It is a time of release, of joy and of community.
Tchoktio partakes only sparingly of the grog, having never enjoyed drinking to the point of intoxication (and not having that much of a taste for grog). He joins in the songs he knows--not particularly well, but given he's accompanying drunk sailors, who cares?
He does worry about his growing reputation, especially after how close Hjalte had gotten to death while fighting the remorhaz... not to mention the pain he himself had suffered. At least he had his spare clothing now, and while he hadn't had as nice a pouch to put them in, he also had his spell components.
Still, the tengu knows there will be more than enough time for such thoughts later, so he pushes them aside and does his best to just enjoy the moment.
When he can avoid the center of attention, Tchokito seeks out Fej. He's not certain if it's to check up on the man, or because the tengu feels the need to find someone who doesn't think of him as some sort of hero for almost dying again.
It is hard to leave the celebration without drawing attention since he is the man (or tengu) of the hour. Despite being the storyteller, Oddný seems to enjoy having him as a prop during her increasingly outrageous re-tellings of the adventure. It is whenever the slightly tipsy huntswoman asks Tchokito to strip back down as part of another finale that the witch draws the line and manages to slip away.
Leaving the increasingly raucous crowd behind, Tchokito seeks out his friend, charge and hopefully less drunk companion. He finds the thin Ulfen man near the stern just far away from the ever present helmsmen to not cause offense. He has a cup in his hands but is not drinking it. Instead he is looking out over the dark ocean, face to the night breeze. Above the stars burn softly, tiny pinpricks reflecting off the water's surface.
Tchokito quietly approaches but Fej clearly hears him because he says, "So, hero again, Tchokito? Maybe you could get elected king. I'm sure these sailors would vote for you. " A dark laugh, "Except they don't really do voting on ships. Maybe just proclaim it after your next successful adventure." The man sounds tired, which is probably accurate. Life aboard ship is a difficult one, doubly so if one doesn't adjust to the struct system of command.
Tchokito caws a bitter laugh of his own. "Nearly getting yourself and your companions killed should not be viewed as a positive leadership trait."
He sighs. "Unfortunately no one seems to pick up on that part when the stories are told... and making too fine a point of it would scarcely be wise."
He shudders slightly, feathers ruffling. "I still feel the echo of the burning. It is... like when those who have lost limbs speak of still sometimes feeling phantom pains where once it was, save for being everywhere... I feel as if that moment shall remain seared in my mind forever."
Fej seems to thaw a bit at Tchokito's self-depreciating words.
"The Ulfen are a strange people." he admits, "Leading people into danger and getting them back is a highly regarded talent. Besides, 'nearly' getting people killed in Azlant is a fair thing. Imagine someone like Hjalte in charge?"
He moved his arms, imitating the huge lumbering Ulfen raider. The anarchist chuckled and turned back to the fail, clearly in a better mood already.
The man shakes his head at Tchokito's final words though and says, "It doesn't sound like fun but perhaps that is where wisdom can come from? You have often spoke of finding new things and exploring new ways. Hard to get more exciting then that."
Cheok flutters over, narrowly avoiding Tchokito's head and landing on the railing near Fej. The convict, who had a soft spot for animals, grin and offers his hand. After a careful moment of inspection, Cheok allows Fej to scratch his chin once, then hops back. A shiny, greedy eye turns up to him.
"You pirate!" Fej says, looking back to Tchokito. "Cheok begs better then many I saw on the streets. You two can start a street act and hold our your hats."
"So, what next then? How big is Azlant anyway? Will it be islands all across the sea? Weeks? Months?"
Tchokito's laugh is a bit more cheerful this time. "The trouble with wisdom is that you have to have it to recognize it, I think, which makes it difficult to judge just who has it and who does not," he comments. "Still, I do like to think I have learned something for my travels, and yes, from the suffering at times."
He gives his raven friend an amused glance. "Funny you should mention piracy. It was while I was trapped on a pirate ship that we first met..."
The tengu gives Cheok a suspicious look, though amusement is clear through their shared bond. Then he turns back to Fej.
"It is hard to say. Once it was an entire continent, large as Avistan or Garund, or so the histories say. Filled with wonders, the greatest empire Golarion has ever seen. Then Earthfall came, and shattered it all."
He waves a taloned hand. "Now, I suspect no living mortal truly knows how large it once was, much less how large its remnants are. Perhaps someday journeys to Arcadia will be common enough that the outer edges will be mapped, but even then I suspect a route like we are taking, straight through the ruins of the continent, will be rare. That said... a month or two, would be my guess, from what I know of passage to Arcadia. If all goes well, of course."