II-7 Gate

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SIGNED: Writ of joint command and control over Demonic Expeditionary Column Gravebanner between Lord Scorn the Ruin-Forged and the Lords of Law Over Compact

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Equity: All resources, minerals, and trade goods passing through Mana Gate Theborn will be taxed and processed by Compact. Enforcement will be conducted by members of Demonic Expeditionary Column Gravebanner, and they will be given judicial authority within inter-dimensional territories and led by Lesser Marshal Confriga (aside from territories denoted as “Consulate,” “Embassy,” or other sectors protected by contracts of extraterritoriality)...

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Exemption: Vicar Sullain is recognized and protected under personal contract. All matters dealing with the Vicar are to be regarded as dealing with a Legendary Pathbearer. All requests from the Necrotech Legions for extradition are to be ignored. Exemption stands under command and contract signed by the Lords of Law Over Compact (And will remain in place indefinitely until an update or nullification is delivered to this document)

-Unclassified sections from the contract of control signed between Lord Scorn the Ruin-Forged, and the Lords of Law Over Compact

II-7

Gate

Of all the things Shiv felt upon passing through the gate, an intense coldness was not one of them. It was also a wrong kind of cold. An unnatural kind of cold. A ceaseless chill emanated from the chained sun in the distance, its grayish glare channeling a constant stream of frost down over the world. That was contrasted with the world below as Shiv looked over the edge of the bridge he was on. Veins of molten metal circulated through the bedrock of its place. The heat below was so intense that Shiv could see an optical mirage forming.

Behind, the spatial mana sustaining the gate went dead and the way back vanished. Shiv felt the heavy weight of finality tightened its grip inside him. He made his choice. No going back now. Not like back was that great of an option in the end, considering what was happening with the Jealousy.

A rumble sounded ahead as a massive set of stone doors opened to welcome them at the end of the bridge. They were about to enter the base of the pyramid structure he saw earlier, but before that, there were two elemental golems standing guard and a layer of security wards veiling the interior.

Shiv realized they were the same kind of golem he fought in the teleportation anchor almost a week ago—though they seemed just a bit smaller. They weren’t his biggest concern, though. Shiv studied 811 next to him and knew the orc was watching him too. Nothing missed the brilliant brute. Without easy means of escape or reconnecting with his friends, Shiv needed to operate with greater caution. He could come back from dying, but he didn’t know much about this place at all. 

Losing his mask might just end with an entire dimension of enemies coming down on him at once. Shiv was battle happy and death hungry, but he had no interest in being broken and caged in mind or body. And if things went wrong, he very much expected someone to shatter his mind and uncover everything about him…

They passed by the golems and shot through the wards. As the spells washed through Shiv, he readied himself for sirens or an attack. They never came. His mask was pretty damaged, but it was still functional. I really need to find a way to fix this thing. And soon. Not sure how I’m going to do that here, but I’ll find a way. I just need to get my bearings first.

It occurred to him how lucky he was in running into the Umbrals. Nomos might’ve been a bit of an asshole and his first impression of even Uva was how aloof they were, but Weave took to him pretty well. And he took to it was well. It was practically his favorite city in the world at this point. Well, the only actual city I’ve been to. Blackedge is… shit sprinkled with some people I care about. And this place seems to be a special kind of miserable.

As the last of their group got inside the building, Shiv found himself standing on what appeared to be a very large elevator. A second later, as the large, metal gears in its corners began to turn, he knew he was right. A tension immediately broke among the mercenaries. Helmets were removed. Curses and sighs escaped lips, and 811 began to chuckle. “Another run complete.”

“Joy,” Shiv said, pouring some of his uncertainty in the word.

The orc bumped him on the shoulder. Then frowned. “Hm. I remember you being easier to nudge.”

Right, the vampire apparently lacked Physicality. “I remember you bothering to—” 811 shoved Shiv again. The Deathless timed a near-sprawl perfectly. “Oh, you godsdamned stupid creature!”

811 laughed again. Shiv caught the heavily armored Umbral walking by, sneering at them. “Well. I’m glad you two are having a laugh. In fact, I hope you keep up that laughing when we get to the guild office because you’re both felling done. I’m not having you in my band no more. Never again. What happened today with the attack at the end? That was your fault, 811.”

“I disagree,” the orc smiled politely. “If I may, I would like to defend—”

“Save it,” the Umbral spat. She nodded down at Shiv and spat at his feet. “You can save it too. You’ll be assigned final pay and be released back as freelancers. I needed professionals. Not a brute. And certainly not some First Blood fugitive in desperate need of a personality transplant.”

Shiv didn’t know what to say, so he just sneered back. She poured a final bit of disgust into her glare and walked away.

“Well. Free at last,” 811 said with a breath. “I must say, we really should avoid these low-risk quiet assignments. With what you are and what I am, violence is in our nature. Running from it has done us a disservice.”

“Some of us don’t come back if we die,” Shiv said, fully aware of the irony in his statement.

“Ah, but that just increases the thrill, does it not? Imagine how sweet it will taste to finally best and free yourself from the First Blood hunters who seek your heart? Imagine spreading your own rogue bloodline away from the Court and being a power they cannot touch. Death is a simple slip. A dreamless sleep at worst. But life offers a great many prizes to the ones that dare.”

Shiv looked up at the orc. The orc looked down and blinked. “Oh,” 811 said, sighing. “You must truly be tired. You didn’t tell me to shut up at all during that monologue. You’re very unlike yourself today.”

Once again, Shiv reaffirmed his need to kill the orc—and get away from the brute as soon as possible. This cover wasn’t going to last much longer.

***

Another thing Shiv wasn’t prepared for: How insanely boring the after action processing was. After stopping on a certain floor, they handed the “core” they were transporting over to a group of automata who secured, scanned, and slapped a tag of their own on the cart. Through it all, Shiv found himself surprised that the mana tag he was given by the Weaveresses didn’t set off any alarms.

Trapdoor has some nifty equipment, I’ll say that.

Once finished, the automata wheeled the cart around the corner and the elevator began to move again.

And then began Shiv’s journey into purgatory.

The elevator arrived quickly enough, which gave him a false sense of hope about finding a chance to slip away. That was quickly dashed as they were taken through what Shiv could only describe as teleportation customs at Blackedge, but infinitely worse. They were made to passed through over ten rooms for countless scans, interviews, more scans, an interrogation about what happened along the journey, more scans, made to fill out a report about what they thought they did well what could be improved. Then, just as Shiv found himself released into a lobby, the angry Umbral mercenary that led this outfit threw what were supposed to be his employment papers at his feet and stomped off, telling him he needed to go through an exit interview with the guild now. She also told him to eat enough shit until his stomach ruptured. Both statements were delivered with the same tone and seriousness.

“I will be honest,” 811 said, sounding dismayed for the first time. “The excrement eating option has some appeal to me right now.”

Shiv looked the orc up and down and shrugged. “It’s just an exit interview. Let’s get this over with.”

There was no “getting it over with.” Shiv had no idea why the Guild of Armed Protection and Non-Faith Affiliated Contractors needed him to go through five more interviews—most of which were frankly just the guild’s administrative staff calling him an idiot over and over again for sponsoring an orc.

This was how Shiv found out the vampire and the ork were truly friends, or something close to it.

I really, really need to kill this orc before this becomes a miserable tale of revenge and retribution, Shiv thought, his mind entering a meditative state as the interviewer insinuated he was an idiot once more.

Finally, after three hundred contracts and papers signed, Shiv was given a briefcase filled with paper bills that displayed some kind of blind woman holding a blade in one and a feather in the other. A few seconds later, 811 emerged as well, letting out a deep groan. “The torture… has ended. We are freed.” He reached down and clapped Shiv on the back. Shiv barely remembered to stumble and glare this time. 811 laughed. “Come. To Little Gomorrah we go. Let me get you a slave. One you might like this time. One of the younger ones with fresher blood.”

And my pride at butchering the bloodsucker just grows, Shiv thought with disgust.

They staggered out of the building a moment thereafter. As Shiv looked back, he realized another problem he didn’t anticipate: He couldn’t read Compact script. Language was fine—the system seemed to want people to speak to each other without issue, but the written word remained impenetrable. This made it hard to know where anything was or how to get to this Little Gomorrah when 811 told him to lead the way.

They were walking along a bridge that led to a plaza. There, Shiv could see collared automata and Umbrals working the floor, scrubbing rails, shouting slogans for businesses, offering services. Most of the unchained ignored them, but Shiv struggled to turn away. These were slaves. He could tell that immediately. It was just a jarring sight.

People hated me on Blackedge, but no one ever thought of making me a slave like this. Roland Arrow kept Shiv under watch and contained, but even his shadow only loomed so far. He didn’t force Shiv to do a certain job or live a certain way. He certainly didn’t make Shiv wear chains. Chains that connected them to other slaves. And that was the other thing: They were all bound together, so they couldn’t move that far from each other—or run away easily without pulling the other slaves along.

Shiv also came to a darker conclusion: This was effective for group punishment. If one escaped, the rest might just face the pain.

“I always liked the concept. Slavery.” 811 hummed happily as he grinned at the slaves. “Not the keeping or owning of people. No. That is pathetic and weak—one should always seize power for themselves. But the psychological warfare waged against these people to break them down and keep self-determined beings docile is a thing of artistry.”

The orc spoke like he was complimenting a painting. Shiv contemplated if he could knock the orc off the bridge into a river of molten metal below. I have a feeling it might not be enough to kill this one. And I am going to make sure he is absolutely dead.

Shiv listened carefully as he walked, to try and catch what people were saying. If he got lucky, he might just get a clue about where Little Gomorrah was. But his focus got him some to notice something else. Some few meters away, an automaton in a suit brought a belt slick with down across the face of a child.

The boy was ten, if that. He sprawled across the ground, heaving, sobbing. Around his neck was a collar, and in his hands was a mismatched pair of gloves. Gloves that fit the dimensions of the automaton’s hands.

 Shiv was walking toward them before he even realized what he was doing. By the time he caught himself, 811 was watching him, and Shiv cursed. Shit. I should have— What should he do? Just let it happen? When he could do something about it? When there was probably something he could do? 811 said something about me wanting fresh blood. Well. Here it is. I can use that as an excuse. Use my hunger as something to hide what I am about to do.

Before the automaton could bring his belt down again, Shiv caught them by the arm. It took a considerable amount of restraint on his part not to close his hand and crush the bot’s fragile limb, but Shiv had strength in spades, inside and out. The goal was what mattered; he could come back and finish the automaton off later. Frankly, he wanted to slaughter this entire place clean, other than the slaves. And he would. The first chance he got, he would.

“I,” Shiv began, trying to mask his anger as hunger, “am hungry.”

The automaton held a very human guise. Its glass eyes flashed bright and dark in something like a blink, and it tried to pull its hand back. But Shiv didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled out some of his earnings. He didn’t know what a child cost in this place, but he just might be able to pull it off.

“I’ll spend premium,” Shiv said, adding a bit of a rasp into his voice to sell his hunger more. “Half. For the boy. Fresh blood.”

“You—” The automaton sounded between fear and outrage. 811 was just shaking his head as if his old friend was up to the usual antics. Then, the automaton noticed the money, and turned to stare at Shiv again. “Half? Of all that? For just… the boy?”

“Yes,” Shiv said, trying to make it seem like a desperate thing rather than him not knowing how much a slave cost. Or even what the currency here was called. “Do we have an arrangement?”

The automaton grabbed the money and Shiv released its arm. As it counted the bills, it regarded Shiv and let out a pitched laugh. “I… you must be truly desperate, friend. Hungry and desperate. But I understand. We all have thirsts. A word of advice…” The automaton cast the belt it was beating the child with aside and reached down to take the boy’s chain. “...Get yourself sorted early. And drain this one quick. His mother said he was supposed to learn fast and level quickly. She lied. He couldn’t even pick up the right gloves from the story.”

Shiv could feel how deep the lashes ran on the boy’s back. It was deeper than skin. Deep enough that he was bleeding heavily—and there was stuff in the air getting in. An infection was going to set in.

Practical Metabiology > 8

Accepting the child’s chain into his hand, Shiv’s restraint nearly snapped when both his Barter and Acting Skills advanced. It was like the system was mocking him.

Barter > 11

Acting > 7

“Get up,” Shiv said, trying to sound uncaring. Inside, he was an inch away from ripping the automaton in half. He had some biology knowledge now, but he couldn’t heal the boy easily. Tentatively, he clamped the parted skin and flesh together with his Biomancy. The act made the child wail. I’m going to kill this automaton soon too. The moment I get the chance. 

“What’s your name?” Shiv asked the automaton. It stared at him, and he just sighed. “To send you a proper apology. It was… impolite to grab your arm.”

“Ah, I understand now. I am Master-Advisor Maxwell Oldsmith. As for the grabbing… I suppose I understand. Not all of us can be so blessed of self-control. Say, are you an independent contractor of sorts?”

Shiv paused. And then nodded.

“Splendid. Well. I might have something you can do for me as an apology. But that’s best discussed in private. Come see me at the sixtieth floor of the Hex. I’m currently staying at the Twilight Republic’s consulate on assignment.”

The automaton’s words hit Shiv like a punch to the liver. “The Republic?”

“Quite so! I represent certain interests from the capital. We are looking for intrepid souls willing to partake in a… limited scope military operation. But here I go saying too much in public. A final note: I promise that you’ll get all the taste you crave if you do choose to sign up. To the victor go the spoils, and a siege comes with an awful lot of spoils.”

Every word the automaton came down on Shiv like heavier and heavier weights. The automaton was from the Republic? Recruitment for a siege? Blackedge? What else could they be talking about? Maybe the system wasn’t mocking him. Maybe it wanted him in this state, wearing this mask, drawn to situations exactly like these.

The system desires strife above all, indeed, Shiv thought.

By the time he reacted, the automaton was already walking away, leaving Shiv with a bombshell of a lead, a whimpering, wounded child, and quite a bit less money.

One problem at a time, Shiv thought. He then noticed 811 looking at him. Okay. Maybe two problems at a time.

“Come on,” Shiv snarled. He picked the boy up under pretenses of being in a hurry. The child screamed despite Shiv’s attempts to be gentle, but this is the best he could do. He was just planning as he went now, trying to navigate a path out. “Let’s go to Little Gomorrah before my inhibitions get the best of me again.”

To his satisfaction, the diversion worked. 811 was leading now, guiding him through an intersectional plaza connected to several other bridges. Along the way, Shiv spotted all manner of dimensionals patrolling the streets. Some of them seemed like cousins to the Steel Fiend Shiv fought yesterday. A great many more were monstrous beasts only slightly smaller than the orc, sporting with over a dozen weapon-bearing limbs, the head of a wolf, and a body shielded by rusted armor.

With the way the wolf heads patrolled in groups of five, Shiv guessed they were something like gate security. Overhead, there were other dimensionals as well. Despite resembling faint wisps that crackled with lightning, they also had wolfish heads. Seems to be a running theme here. Might mean they are from the same dimension. How does that work?

The boy he was carrying whimpered. Something inside Shiv recoiled at how miserable the child sounded. The worst part was how he couldn’t just help the kid without breaking his own cover. 811 was already shooting the boy these strange looks. Looks Shiv really didn’t like.

“Shh,” the orc whispered, eyeing the child. “It won’t be long now.”

“P-please,” the boy said. “I’ll remember next time! I’ll remember! Please don’t… I promised my mother I’d find my way back.”

And that was enough to make what Shiv felt about Compact very, very personal.

Soon, he found himself following 811 across a new bridge—this one sparsely occupied. The structure ahead was hollowed like a great alcove, with shops and establishments everywhere. Instead of heading for any one of them, the orc took Shiv down a hall and into an elevator. Bottles and filth were littered along the floor. The discarded body of a disassembled automaton dangled above them like some kind of warning.

Shiv didn’t know what kind of place Little Gomorrah was, but he suspected it wasn’t going to be a joint he enjoyed.

“Maybe you should hurry along first,” Shiv said, pretending to succumb to his hunger. “I need to feed.”

“Then, feed,” 811 said, grinning at him. “Don’t be shy. We both know what you’re like when you get hungry. Right?”

“No!” The boy begged. The way he was writhing caused his wounds to twist and open again.

This damned orc… Shiv channeled that into outrage. “What are you taunting me?”

811 just laughed as he stepped past a narrow alley leading deeper into the structure. He gestured for Shiv to go first, and playing the role of surly high vampire, Shiv scoffed, turned, and froze.

He was looking at a dead end. A dead end with three stripped corpses stacked against the far wall. His brief confusion ended when 811 ripped the boy out of his hands and then slammed his large mace against Shiv’s back. Everything around them cracked and shattered. Dense stone crumbled and parted. The Deathless bit back a snarl as he felt his back armor fracture and chip—but making it thicker paid off. Even so, the hit was heavy and blunt. Three of his right ribs fractured; the orc’s blow had been a falling meteor.

Shiv drew on his Might of Mass and skidded across the floor instead of getting blasted off his feet. He came to a sliding halt just a few steps away from the corpses and growled. Yeah. He was really pissed now. And the damned orc probably knew something was up. Shiv turned to glare at the orc, the cold anger inside him dulling the pain at his side.

There, twitching in the orc’s outstretched hand was the boy Shiv was trying to save. The child’s condition was even worse than it was before. The shockwave burst his eardrums, and his eyes were rolling. 811 grinned viciously at Shiv. “I must confess one thing: I don’t much like you young. They’re too vulnerable—and it always provokes a predator response in me.”

“Don’t—” Shiv hissed.

811 closed his hands. What started as a snarl turned into a wet squelch. Shiv wasn’t fast enough to stop the murder. But he was fast enough to smash himself into the orc’s chest in immediate retribution.

“Tainted bastard!” Shiv roared. Another small shockwave shook through the alley. The Deathless heard 811 breath out, absorbing the hit. The orc swung. Shiv ducked and hit the monster three more times—filling his Momentum Core with every blow. His mind was nothing but cold, furious focus. He needed to kill this thing. He needed to murder the orc if it was the last thing he did. He wouldn’t be right until he butchered the orc.

At some point, he drew out a bone dagger from his cloak and started cutting as well. 811 reared his mace back but Shiv parried the blow aside before it could hit. Then he was back to tearing into the orc again, his core filling, preparing—

It was only instinct that stopped Shiv from being caged by a stone maw this time. He slammed into 811, barely budging them out of the way through a combined effort of brute strength and Biomancy before a jagged maw exploded out from the ground to clamp down where he was. His biggest edge against the orc was his speed, and Momentum Core was a good few hits from hitting overload. Shiv’s Reflexes got faster. The orc lumbered slower, but all the while, there was a serene smirk on his face. Like he just remembered something pleasant instead of murdering a child.

Shiv pulled out a few more of his bodies from his cloak. He tore them open with Biomancy and fused them into the walls, creating biomass platforms in the alley. Jagged stones burst out from the ground at the orc’s gesture, but they bounced off the Diamond Shelled underside of Shiv’s corpse-platforms as he climbed higher, avoiding the ground.

Both Pathbearers met each other’s stare. 811 chuckled. Shiv trembled with bloodthirst and aggression. The orc was going to be dead by the end of this. Shiv didn’t care what it took. He was going to rip this godsdamn monster apart.

“Who are you?” 811 asked, frowning at a slight chip in his mace.

“How’d you find out?” Shiv responded with a question of his own.

811 tilted his head. “The way you react, mostly. Isaiah was… troubled. Resentful. Hateful. The slave gave you away the most. He loved the whippings. He loved the torments. It reminded him that there was lower to fall, even for a fugitive of the First Blood. He confided in me that he liked to imagine himself as an Elder in those moments, and the slaves as the ones who used to abuse him—and now continue to hunt him. Your excuse of… wanting an immediate sip was understandable. The money you spent was not. He would have never thrown that away—hungry or not. And ultimately… if he had one virtue, it was endurance. He could handle his cravings more than most.”

That earned a humorless laugh from Shiv. “And here I thought my acting was carrying me through this whole thing.”

“Afraid not. You weren’t too bad at a few points. You even got some of the things he said down. But you’re too angry to be him. Too decisive. Too explosive. And you walk with too much strength. He was fragile. Soft at times. You… I suspect you don’t even know what’s that like.”

Shiv took this moment to create a new bone drill as well. He could hear footsteps and shouts echoing down along the walls of the alley. “We’re also nowhere near Little Gomorrah, aren’t we?” Shiv asked.

“No. Practically the opposite direction. Another slip in your facade.” 811 clicked his pointed teeth together. “Now. Who are you? A raven of Aviary? An agent of New Albion trying to steal a weapon? A weapon that wasn’t where you expected it to be?” Shiv didn’t answer that question. So, 811 asked another. “Isaiah. Is he dead?”

Shiv gave the boy’s brutalized remains a final look as cold rage surged through his veins. I was going to save him. I was. I was… “Yeah,” Shiv said. “And it was an ugly death. He started screaming pretty hard when I laid hands on him.” 811’s serene smile faded. Shiv kept going. “In fact, I found it pretty pathetic how fast he broke. You want to know what killed him? Pain. He couldn’t take it. He passed out—couldn’t do anything to stop me from taking his heart. Just a shame you weren’t there to see it.”

The orc stared at him for a moment. There was a twitch to the corner of his lip. A flash of a snarl. “He was my friend.”

“I know,” Shiv whispered. “I could tell.”

811 tightened his grip around his mace as the ground trembled. The first of the multi-limbed, wolf-headed demons appeared around the corner, but Shiv didn’t give a damn about that. 

“I don’t have many of those. Few people understand me.” 811 was glaring at Shiv now, his anger rising too.

Shiv sneered. “One fewer now. But don’t worry, orc. I’ll remember you after this. I’ll remember your screams most of all.”

Silver Tongue > 5

Intimidation > 21

And that was the last thing said. The last thing that needed to be said. Words were over. Blood needed to flow. Shiv launched his bone drill into the orc’s skull. It impacted with a brief spurt of blood and a shower of chipped stone. The orc made the gesture of a clenched fist. His body flared with mana. Stones erupted and jagged crystal burst out from the surrounding structures. He tried to crush Shiv—did break one of the corpse-platforms. But Shiv was already descending, coming at the 811 at Biomancy-accelerated speeds. He smashed knee-first into the orc’s face. 

811 barely reacted.

He drove his bulk into Shiv shoulder first. The Deathless drank the momentum out of the hit—only to feel a giant stone hand seize him from behind. It felt like the weight of a small building was pressing down on him, pinning his limbs in place. Shiv jerked and twisted as time crawled to a halt. 811 was rearing his entire body back, preparing to deliver a colossal hit on Shiv—the hit that ended Shiv’s life the first time.

The Deathless just smiled. The orc was too slow. And now, Momentum Core was full. Time to show the big, gray bastard what a heavy hit actually was.

Shiv discharged his core. Suddenly, he was moving too fast for the stone hand to hold. It burst apart into dust and fragments. 811’s eyes barely had a chance to widen before Shiv caught his bone drill and thrust it forward into the orc’s face. The sheer force was too much. Too much for the alley walls to endure as Shiv and the orc blasted through meters of dense stone. It was too much for the surprised wolf-headed dimensionals who were blasted aside. It was even too much for Shiv’s drill as it snapped it in half.

But not before it drew blood, shattered tooth, and kissed bone.

As the last of Shiv’s Momentum Core died, he and 811 crashed through another wall before they slid along the length of the bridge, knocking aside pedestrians and ripping the ground asunder.

When they finally came to a halt, Shiv surveyed the damage he left. The building behind him was starting to fold inward slightly. Countless people ran screaming from the stories and rooms lining the structure. Meanwhile, a deep, ugly gash ran along the side of 811’s face. Blood flowed from a flap of severed muscle. The orc dipped a finger into the wound and tasted it. “Huh. Not bad. Not bad at all. Here I was hoping you were something more than just a sneaky little dagger. Seems like you have plenty of brawler in you as well.”

Shiv mended his bone drill. And he shaped another. And another. Three drills hovered behind him, clutched by the same field. “I haven’t shown you a brawl yet.”

“Indeed,” 811 chuckled. “And I haven’t shown you all my skills. And as 811 held his mace high, a crack of lightning echoed from on high, and the winds began to build. “Let me give you a full taste of my Mastery.”