The Hammer And The Anvil Song [Pt 3]

[Imogen]

Searing, 42 122

The witch sat in the shadowy room, preparing a spell.

Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Firstly, “spell” was probably a misnomer, though it was generally good enough as a description for whatever a witch did. More importantly, she wasn’t yet ready to prepare any sort of spell, because she hadn’t yet figured out what kind of magic would actually help her.

"Where it isn’t made of metal, it’s hard as metal anyway." Imogen said to her reflection in the mirror, and to her shadow against the door, "It’s faster than a jungle cat and stronger than a tyrant lizard, but that’s the least of my worries. How am I meant to extract the metal that grows from it if I can’t even dislodge a feather?"

“Mrow.” replied her shadow, unhelpful as usual. The witch’s eyes narrowed to slits.

"You’re lucky you’re cute. But YOU-" Imogen jabbed a finger at her own reflection, "Have got no such thing going for you. Any thoughts to earn your pay?"

Imogen’s reflection rolled its eyes, as if to remind her that it wasn’t being paid. Or if it was, it wasn’t being paid by her. Still, it reached out and placed a hand on the glass, gesturing towards her.

Tentatively, the witch reached out and placed her hand against the reflection, where it ought to have been anyway. The mirror grew cold, frost creeping away from the edges, stretching towards her hand, and the light within it began to shift, forming strange scenes from Imogen’s memories.

She watched herself sitting in the theatre at Wawari Bobul, the mawoiden woman telling the tale of the forest and its stalker. She saw herself stalking the Kegumu Rakaka, taking note of the strange metal spikes protruding from its body. She saw herself engaged in combat, her nameless sword and thousand copied spears bouncing off the Primal like raindrops from the roof of a sturdy house.

The images suddenly vanished, leaving only her reflection, chest heaving, panting with exertion. She realized that she was doing the same.

Master Gerhard’s spirit took a moment to compose itself, pushing its hair–well, Imogen’s hair–out of its face and breathing slowly and deeply. Then it removed Imogen’s notebook and opened it on the dresser in front of her. It began to write.

She observed the spirit, quite fascinated by this new behavior. It took a few minutes, scratching things out and starting anew, before it was satisfied, closing the diary with a firm push that sent dust flying. It pointed at Imogen.

Imogen blinked, momentarily confused, uncertain what was expected, before an idea hit her. She walked over to her actual diary and opened it, flipping quickly through to the present day. And there, she found a new entry.

A Spell To Render Vincible The Metal Primal

A singular weakness it has by design-
A heart which is humble before the divine.
The hand that can leave any cleft in its hide
Has no expectation of leaving alive.

In cradle of earth is all metal first made
And such is the cradle, then such is the grave
All creatures too proud to be rendered to flame
Must find in resistance they soften and tame

The final component to make it desist
Is something which doesn't, or shouldn't, exist
Is something which seems only willing to hate
Is something no gods, in their wisdom, create

This, to Imogen, was a perfectly comprehensible spell. But as she read it, again and again, her face darkened.

"Really? Damn, are you sure?"

Her reflection nodded.

"Fuck."

[Imogen]

~~~ A Heart Which Is Humble Before The Divine ~~~

“You want what?” asked Car’euv, face totally blank, emotions unreadable.

Imogen sighed, breathing deeply, before repeating: "I need you to put me in my place."

“Put you in your-” the other woman frowned, “Is this some kind of proposition?”

"No!" Imogen objected, almost too quickly, "No, it’s a ritual, of sorts. I need to duel an Arbiter, and I remembered you from the interview."

It was a ridiculous-sounding claim, but Imogen was confident she’d be believed. She didn’t know very much about the Arbiters, Raxen’s chosen, but she remembered hearing that they could discern all lies. In fact, remembering that, the witch quickly added- "Plus, I remembered you didn’t like me much, so I thought you might go for it."

Car’euv snorted, but looked a little more relaxed as the whole truth came out. “You were no worse than most others. Certainly not enough that I was going to... attack you. What manner of ritual are you trying to perform?”

"It is… difficult to explain." Imogen conceded, and that was the truth, but she tried anyway, "The spirits of the elements have commissioned me to collect something from a primal here to help repair an imbalance elsewhere, and to do that, I am going to create a magical tool. The first thing I need to forge it… is a duel."

Car’euv looked surprised, which meant that she believed Imogen. There were serious advantages to dealing with Arbiters, it seemed.

“With an Arbiter specifically?”

"Eh… maybe?" There was no point prevaricating; the witch was winging this whole thing.

“I see.” The Arbiter sat there a moment, thoughtful, then stood. “Very well. It seems within the remit of my duty.”

"You’ll do it, then?" asked Imogen, hopeful.

“Yes. I will beat you up.”

~~~

Per Car’euv’s directions, Imogen returned to the high temples atop Drathera the next night. She was wearing simple clothes–nothing she’d miss if it was shredded–and carried nothing except the steel knife she’d purchased two days’ past.

The Ork’s hand was still bandaged and unusable from her fight with The Silent Fisher days prior, but that was fine. She was going to need to hold the dagger in hand anyway, and she didn’t expect it to be useful- quite simply, she was just going to have to fight the Arbiter without much help from either arm.

Car’euv met Imogen there, wearing a simple shift and tight leggings, and holding one weapon. The Arbiter’s sword was long and thin, much thinner than the style of Ecith, and black as obsidian, but inset with a single blue gem, brighter and clearer than the pre-eclipse sky.

“Ynnogen.” the Arbiter greeted her, completely bungling her name. That was pretty normal. “One last chance to back out, no shame.”

Imogen made a derisive gesture with her bandaged hand, or as close as she could approximate, and Car’euv laughed. They were still standing in the middle of the road leading towards the Senate building, and the witch looked around, curiously. Why meet here? Was there a sparring ground to hand?

“Very well. Let the duel begin.”

A sudden, terrifying shift in slipspace rippled through Imogen’s mental map. Alarmed, the ork looked from side to side, watching as the mountaintop seemed to fall away, consumed by a black void. Just as she opened her mouth to shout with alarm, spacetime slammed back into being around her.

She stood in the sand-cushioned center of a vast colosseum, with thousands of empty seats to every side. The walls rose up to block the sky in all directions, and only a bright, uncanny gloaming light seemed to filter through the sides. A vast array of constellations wheeled above them.

Imogen returned her attention to her opponent, who had been waiting patiently for the ork to regain her bearings after the sudden shift in the environment. It was admirable restraint, in a way–Imogen probably would have taken the opportunity to attack–but the Arbiter was still wearing a wide, mocking smile.

The witch caught her breath, realizing that she’d been spared humiliation only by Car’euv’s sense of fair play. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, keep relying on that. Instead, she raised her dagger-gripping hand to her side, and materialized her Pact sword.

Sands whipped through the air around Imogen’s Pact sword as it materialized, forming a thin dervish for a few seconds. The Arbiter cocked a brow at the sight of the enormous weapon, but said nothing. Well, it didn’t matter what she thought. Imogen wasn’t about to risk holding back against the Arbiter.

"Light."

The nameless sword obeyed, and the twilight throughout the Arena grew dark for a moment as the sword pulled in elemental aether. The air around it distorted into brightness, then erupted into flame, silver nova-fire momentarily jutting ten feet into the air above the combatants.

Car’euv whistled, plainly unsure what to make of the technique- then raised her long, black sword, just in time to block Imogen’s sword, whirling end-over-end through the air at her like an argent comet. Though the silver fire strained against the Arbiter’s own blade, it didn’t manage to reach her flesh, and she easily pushed the dancing sword aside.

The Sunsinger exhaled, feeling much better about her chances. This was going to be the plan. If she could keep Car’euv at bay with Dancing weapons, she had a chance of overwhelming the woman at range, where her own limitations wouldn’t-

Her supernal senses warned her before her own ears, and she glanced up to see her own sword spinning backwards at her. Imogen Blinked to the side, faster than she could possibly have moved, then turned to look at her own Pact weapon.

Imogen’s Pact sword lay on the sands, still blazing with silver fire- but as she watched, the fires began to recede. She could sense, instinctively, that Car’euv had somehow severed the aetheric bond between herself and the weapon. If she wanted to re-establish it, she was going to need to touch it again.

A novice would have rushed for the weapon, but this wasn’t Imogen Ward’s first duel. On a hunch, she stepped backwards, both physically and through the veil of slipspace, rendering her body intangible. Almost as she did so, a slender Orkhan arm gripping a black blade poked through her ghostly form. Imogen spun away, facing the smiling Arbiter behind her.

“So you’re not a… what do your people call it, a one-track horse? That’s good! I thought this was going to be very short.”

The Sunsinger didn’t rise to the taunt. She could only stay intangible for so long, and she didn’t trust that black sword at all. Dodging was only going to work for so long before the Arbiter came up with a way to close the trap. She was going to need to go on the offensive.

Somehow.

"Think of these thoughts-" she told the smiling woman, "-as limitless light."

The Arbiter frowned, sensing a sudden shift in the aether within the Arena. The light shifted, as silver light bloomed above- and long bronze spears began to rain down from above, in the dozens and the hundreds.

Car’euv looked up, alarmed, and raised her empty hand. A ward blossomed above her, like a great translucent flower, and the spears slammed into it.

But unlike Imogen’s stunt with The Silent Fisher, her assault here was not a total waste of power. Each of the duplicate spears still burned with her imitation of Novuril’s silver fire, and before each one disappeared they ate slightly through the Arbiter’s ward. Imogen felt a surge of vindictive pleasure as she watched Car’euv’s shocked face as her protective Negation began to falter.

Then Car’euv brought her sword up, and it pulsed with silent power. The ward redoubled above her, its wounds healing, growing larger and more ornate, and Imogen felt the power behind her attack petering off. How could anyone have so much energy?

Still, it had taken all of the Arbiter’s concentration to defeat her spell, and that gave Imogen just the opening she needed. Car’euv made a very satisfying “Erk!” noise as Imogen’s staff slammed into the small of her back, bowling her over and sending her skidding three feet across the sand. Imogen gathered her will for another stri-

“Stop.”

The Arbiter spoke–not shouted, but it was somehow as distinct as if Imogen had heard it in her own ear–and Imogen felt her magic snap once more. The staff clattered to the Arena floor as if dropped. Car’euv stood, dusting herself off, then turned to the now-disarmed witch.

“Fall.”

Imogen blinked, then felt the world tumbling around her as her legs gave out. She landed on her knees, pain rushing through her arm as her weight fell on her injured hand. But she didn’t drop the dagger, so there was that.

The Arbiter approached, holding her sword warily in front of her. She no longer looked playful at all. Imogen had proven that she had strength and surprise enough in her that Car’euv plainly intended to finish things without giving her any additional chances.

“Fa-.”

This time, the witch had caught on to the Arbiter’s trick. The moment she spoke, Imogen blinked, though she didn’t go anywhere. By leaving space for just an instant, she could avoid even Car’euv’s words.

“St-”

Imogen attempted to blink again, but Car’euv was no idiot.

“-ay.”

The veil between space and slipspace contorted as Imogen tried to manipulate it, cut by the Arbiter’s words. It was much the same as injuring a full portal- impossible to use safely until the wall between worlds settled.

“Fall.”

Imogen braced herself for the worst, but it did not come. Instead, her Pact shield manifested once again. The great circular mirror shield, shining with silver light and shot through with dozens of golden cracks, appeared between its master and the Arbiter, and her word slammed against it.

It was still quite painful. Whatever had happened with the Pact weapon back in the tower had somehow undone the shattered Pact, but it had done nothing at all to remove the psychic wound. Every hit still cast her mind back to the moment of the Sundering, when she began to dissolve in the cerulean destruction of the world’s ending.

“Fall.”

Car’euv tried again, this time aiming to sever Imogen’s connection to her shield as she had with the other two pact weapons. This time, however, nothing seemed to happen. Or rather, it did- the Arbiter staggered backwards, as though she’d just swung her sword into an unyielding wall.

The force of it caused the pact shield to vibrate, and a bell-like tone rang out through the Arena.

Imogen felt connection returning within her legs, and painfully pushed herself up from the floor. She reached out to her staff and sword with her mind, re-establishing the connections of Reaving while the Arbiter was distracted.

She rushed as Car’euv, throwing caution to the wind, her weapons arrayed telekinetically about her. Thirty feet… twenty feet…

As the witch approached, the Arbiter visibly recovered, turning to look at her. Car’euv’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled once again. Then she gestured at the gate on the far wall.

The doors blew open with the force of an explosion, practically tearing themselves off their hinges, and darkness rushed out. It flowed past Car’euv in an instant, and then it was on Imogen. And then…

For a moment, she thought it was the dragon, Exathun, the ancient white. It swooped down towards her, eyes the size of buildings, wings overshadowing the frozen hills of Zaichaer. It breathed deeply, shadow and ice mixing within its maw, ready to drown out whatever light and fire she raised against it.

Then it was the Vonaid Koid, the great fire-beast awoken from slumber. It rose from hot red terror, every exhalation smoke and fear and shadow, and its crazed eyes of magma fixed on her and she knew it wanted the fire inside her soul, and would tear her to pieces to consume it.

Then the shadowy figure of the Liar-beast loomed between the trees, barely visible through the shadows, and it spoke in an unfamiliar voice but the words were her own. It spoke fears and insecurities and the worst part was that even though she knew it was lying–it was called a liar-beast–she also knew she couldn’t help but believe it.

Finally the shadows were on her. She was in a grove, lying in a shallow pond, and through the circular hole in the trees above, she could see the dark, reddish circle of the Great Eclipse. She pushed herself up by her elbows and saw, just above her, the shadow of the Kegumu Rakaka. Only… where the Primal’s eyes had been white circles, like holes in the world, this one’s were filled with static. Like a blizzard of white and black, flurrying endlessly, purposelessly within the void.

Imogen tore her gaze away from those eyes and saw herself, holding her own sword. But it wasn’t her, it was the static-eyed spirit in the mirror, smiling placidly. It drew back the sword, to plunge it into Imogen’s breast.

The Sunsinger screamed, terror and outrage and outcry all at once, and stabbed herself in the stomach with the dagger she’d been holding this entire time.

~~~

When Imogen regained consciousness, she was lying on a bench at the top of Drathera.

Car’euv was standing directly next to the bench, doing stretches. When the Arbiter noticed Imogen stir, she rose to her feet, walking over to check on her.

“Good to see you’re stirring. How’s your head? How many fingers am I holding up?”

The witch’s vision swam, a little, but she counted… "None. You’re not holding up any fingers. Oh, fuck, my head..."

“No brain damage then.” said Car’euv cheerfully, “That was much more invigorating than I expected, Ynnogen. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

Absolutely not, the witch thought.

“Did it work? Do you have what you need for your ritual?”

Imogen blinked, then patted the bench around her. There was no sign of the dagger. She closed her eyes, and lifted her unbandaged hand to her chest.

A heart that is humble before the divine…

“I…think so. Yes. Thank you, Car’euv.”

“Of course. And can you get back to where you’re staying from here?”

Imogen tried to sit up, but found herself too dizzy. The Sunsinger slumped back down into the bench.

“...no.”

“Hmm. Well, see you tomorrow morning, then!”

And with that, the Arbiter walked away, and Imogen was left with only the stars and the shadows for company.

"Mrow."

[Aegis]

REVIEW TIME

Ms. Imogeniality

Loot: Part of a spell well earned.
Injuries: Nothing a stiff drink and a good night's rest can't cure.

Points: 10, may not be used for magic. This increase in Exp is due to following the mod designed plotnotes here. viewtopic.php?t=4085

Lore Development Opportunities:
Car’euv, the Arbiter NPC

Comments: I love this thread the first time I read it, and it is even better the second time about. I think the personality and style you used for Car'euv showcases the Ecithian Arbiter, not just as an archetype, but also as a real person. The combat was smooth and fun to follow, and I'm looking forward to see how this spell progresses.