Spire's Spite

“Get up here,” Nic growled through his scarred lip.

Fritz and Bert quickly complied, scrabbling up with the last of their gear. It was hard work getting up the small stone outcropping, what with Bert and his great glass horns slung over his shoulders and Fritz with Quicksilver in hand. Kev followed up after them, glancing around to make sure they left nothing behind or stashed anything away somehow.

Heart thumping, hoping that Kev didn’t spot the hidden hole in the cliff, Fritz met Nic’s assessing gaze not daring to look over his shoulder.

Nic motioned at the jagged black blade in Fritz’s hand and asked “Treasure?”

“No, monster part,” Fritz replied tersely, to Nic’s disappointed glare.

Nic sighed then coughed, spat and began the interrogation, “Got a Path?”

They shook their heads immediately.

“What level are you?” Nic said sighing, seemingly even more disappointed.

“One,” Fritz replied.

“Tw-One,” Bert said at Fritz’s glare and elbow jab.

“Uh-huh. Wouldn’t be lying to old Nic now would ya?” Nic asked with a cruel smirk further twisting his notched face.

“No, level two,” Fritz said sullenly then added, “Sir.”

“Don’t sir me, boy. Ain’t no titles in the Sunken Ring. Or in the Nightshark’s employ for that matter,” Nic growled, his scowl somehow deepening further and his dark eyes glinting with suspicion.

“Yes...boss?” Fritz said.

“Right. Now what Attributes and Abilities did you choose?” Nic asked as if by rote.

“I uh… can I check my Sanctum?” Fritz asked.

“Sure, Attributes first then we’ll chat about what ‘wonderful’ Abilities you chose,” Nic said drily.

“Why?” Bert said as if he didn’t quite get what was going on.

“So we can see if you got anything good, something the Nightshark might make use of. Idiots,” Nic said. “Hurry up, we don’t have all night.”

Fritz sat and dived into his Sanctum, reminding himself of the Abilities and Attributes he was going to tell Nic about.

His feet squelched in the muddy ground. Rain fell heavily over the willow branches over his head, protecting him from the torrent. Standing in the writhing shadows He thought he might as well view his Spire sheet while he was here.

“Spire sheet,” Fritz said and thought, the silvery, glowing glyph appeared humming dully.

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Spire Readout

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Name: Francis Hightide

Level: 10

Path: Spy

Strain: Human

Sigil: Sunken Spire, Gold Award

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Attributes

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Strength: 3

Agility: 9

Endurance: 9

Perception: 18

Focus: 9

Memory: 9

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Advanced Attributes

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Awareness: 18

Control: 9

Dusksong: 6

Grace: 6

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Activated 2/3

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Stone Pit

Gouge the stone, shift the ground, instant craters, holes abound.

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Gloom Strike

Weapon writhes, in shadow’s grace, deliver foes, to night’s embrace.

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Passive 2/3

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Trap Sense

Pits and wire, falls and fire, discover danger, before it’s dire.

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Danger Sense

Behind the boulder, up in the tree, lurking threats, can’t hide from me.

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Trait 2/3

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Door Sense

Beyond the portal, behind the door, a brutal death or distant shore?

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Cloak of Dusk

Wrap yourself in twilight’s cover, what’s one shadow from another?

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Path 1/3

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Illusory Shadow - Evolution 1/3

Fake darkness, mocking light? Pseudo shadows, subdue sight.

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Technique 2/3

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The Observations (Novice)

Whittle away, scatter survive, poor prevail, covertly thrive.

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Arte Pugilist (Novice)

Strike, Slip, Punch, Kick, Dive, Skip, Grab, Flip.

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Strain 0/3

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The first thing Fritz noticed was the new ‘Sigil’ line at the top of his Spire Sheet. Strange it doesn’t list out all the Awards. Then he focused on the small section and it expanded within his mind.

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Awards

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Bronze - Night Vision

Though much is secret in the night, it won't be hidden from your sight.

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Silver - Marbled Bones: Moonsilver

Veins of silver, shining mesh, weaved in bones, beneath the flesh.

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Gold - Reignbreaker

Shatter prisons, break the chains, throw down rulers, free demesnes.

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Fritz still wondered about Awards but didn’t have anyone to ask, save perhaps Nic, but asking him would blow their cover so that was out of the question.

He quickly decided on the Abilities he would tell Nic about. He didn’t want to tell them about Illusory Shadow and he couldn’t tell him about Stone Pit lest they discover his hastily made hole in the cliff face. As for his Passive, he really didn’t want to inform them of his wonderful Trap Sense and life-saving Danger Sense. So reluctantly he went with Gloom Strike for his Active and the Night Vision for his Passive.

Though Night Vision was technically from an Award and not a Passive he hoped it was close enough that it wouldn't be questioned too much.

As for the Attributes, how many points did he get at level one again? Twenty-one and then three more for level two, I’ll just say that I spread them over Agility, Perception, Focus and Memory. Which was close enough to the truth.

Fritz gave his Sanctum one last look and returned.

Nic was watching him expectantly, and Fritz rapidly spluttered out, “I have six points in Agility, Focus, Memory and uh... Perception.” In reality, he had many more Attributes and some Advanced ones to boot but again his aim was deception.

“Not bad for a thief to have I suppose,” Nic grumbled, “But why no strength? What's wrong with you boy!? Just six would have made you considerably more useful. You could carry more loot for one. What kind of man picks Focus, Memory and Perception over Strength,” He added shaking his head.

“I wanted to able to see the danger, not wrestle it,” Fritz responded hotly.

“Course you would, you’re a coward,” Nic said blandly. “Abilities? Better be better than you’re miserable Attribute alignments.”

“I have Gloom Strike and Night Vision,” Fritz said glumly.

Nic sighed, if Fritz had thought him disappointed before he was wrong, it seemed the man had completely written him off as a failure and a weakling. Which was his goal but he was still surprised at how much it stung.

“What?” Fritz said offended. “They’re great Abilities!”

“Sure they are, But Night Vision?” Nic shook his head again. “You’ll find out if you climb the Sunken Spire to the top. That’s if you ever want to climb it again, most cowards don’t.”

So did everyone get the same awards from the Spire? Interesting. Did that mean Nic had climbed this Spire to the precipice? From his words Fritz suspected he likely had.

Trying to probe for more information Fritz asked, “What do you mean? Have you climbed all the way to the top?”

“Got to the top on the second try, not that it’s any of your business,” Nic boasted.

Fritz acted impressed, pushing awe into his tone and saying “Woah. Even the two floors we conquered were deadly, have you climbed any of the other spires?”

“Yeah, I have. The Mer Spire is a summer drizzle compared to the Sunken Spires winter storm, and The Rain Spire only gets hard at around the twentieth floor.”

“How’d you get permission to climb the Rain Spire? Doesn’t the King decide who goes in?” Fritz asked, now very glad they decided on trickery rather than ambushing the man as Bert suggested. If he had climbed all the Spires he said he had he was at least level thirty-eight and might be as high as level fifty. An enormous gulf of power, he was as strong or stronger than the rank and file of King’s Scale Guard.

Nic shrugged, “Nightshark sent us in, with all the proper badges. Even got us a Guide. Which was mighty kind of them, knowing the prices those pompous pricks put on their services. They barely looked our way once we showed the Scale Guard overseer the badges. But enough about that, where did you put your points,” He said pointedly to Bert, who feigned being startled.

“I Aligned nine to Strength and Endurance, six to Agility,” Bert boasted.

“Good. At least one of you has some sense,” Nic said drily.

“And I have Tough skin and Concussive blow,” Bert continued, beaming from the scarred man's praise.

“Both good Abilities,” Nic replied with approval greasing his rough tones.

Seemingly dismissing any further questions Nic looked over the meagre loot from the Spire, “Any Treasures?”

Bert held up his gloved hands and Fritz gestured to his black suede-like boots, saying “Found these in a bronze chest.”

Nic pulled out a blue-tinted glass lens or rather a monocle rimmed with gold and inscribed with tiny runes around its edges. He held the thing to his eye and peered through it at them and then their pile of monster parts. His dark eye lingered on their magical boots, gloves and then snapped back to Bert's ragged, torn vest and pants.

“Those clothes, you get them from the chest too?” Nic asked.

Spire’s spite! Fritz cursed inwardly, as their ruined clothes ruse was about to fall apart. If he knew Nic had a Treasure that could spot other Treasures they would’ve hidden Bert's garments in the hole with his ring and dagger.

“I did,” Bert pronounced proudly.

“Well they're imbued, and a set,” Nic said.

“What's that mean?” Bert asked looking dumbly at Nic. Fritz knew his friend well enough to see through Bert's idiot act but it seemed Nic had a far lower estimation of his cognitive prowess.

“It means, that it has an Ability, and sets can do anything from unlocking extra Abilities or other effects to linking the item with the same effect allowing one Activation to encompass all the set items,” Nic explained in a casually gruff manner.

Fritz hadn’t known that, hadn’t even thought about it really, he just assumed the vest and pants counted as one imbued Treasure. He wondered how Nic knew and then grasped the obvious, Nic was an experienced Climber, he had even worked with a Guide. And all knew that Guides were fonts of such knowledge, for the right price.

“Oh,” Bert said scratching his head in apparent thought. “I just liked the colours. What do they do?”

“Activate it and find out,” Kev broke in with exasperation. “Idiot.”

Bert frowned at the man lifted his hand as if to hit the thug with a jet of Corrosive Spray and Activated his garment's Ability. His clothes lit up with a soft glow and the tattered remains knitted themselves together as the grime and filth fled their fibres. There Bert stood in his vest of vididly light blue and pants of pristine white.

“Damn, I was hoping for an acid spray,” Bert said sullenly, then brightened on seeing his good-as-new outfit.

Nic's frown deepened, as he strode in front of the grinning man within a moment. He was moving fast, far faster than any normal man, he was as quick or maybe even quicker than the Hound. Nic planted a fist into Bert’s gut before he could react. Bert fell to the ground wheezing, clutching at where he had been struck and struck hard, without much of the obvious restraint he had used on their first meeting.

“Don’t Activate Abilities at us!” Nic commanded with a rapid kick to Bert’s chest.

Fritz didn’t hear any bones break but he still winced at the thud, which was good because it stifled the small triumphant smirk he would’ve worn after noticing that he could track Nic's movements. The notched thug no longer blurred, no longer moved too fast for his eyes to see, and Fritz knew if he could see it he could scout it. And if he could scout it, he could find a way to kill it.

His small moment of absent-minded plotting earned him a glare and some harsh words from Nic, “Stop scheming.”

When Fritz went to deny the accusation Nic cut him off, “Don’t bother. I know a grudge when I see it. If you’re going stab me stab me.” He added gesturing to Fritz’s hand, where he held Quicksilver tight enough that its edge had cut through its cloth hilt and into his palm.

“But you’ll get just as he got,” Nic warned. “So make it count.”

Welcoming the invitation, and more than a little incensed at how Nic had treated his friend Fritz used his Gloom Strike, fueling it with the cruel, dark elements of his Dusksong mana. He found it didn’t match the Ability completely but it was still compatible with it, costing more than it would have if he had Nightwell, about double the amount if he had to guess. He smirked, glad it had worked as it was far better than draining his Stamina.

Pulling his attention back to the present Fritz lunged forward with his shadow-wreathed black blade, thrusting it towards Nic’s chest, where his heart would be, if he indeed had one. The man didn’t even move, his eyes attempted to follow his sword's strike but were seemingly unable to, gliding away from Quicksilver and instead meeting Fritz’s glare blandly. Nic smirked and took the point head-on as if the blade couldn’t cut him in truth.

Which turned out to be only a small truth as Quicksilver’s tip punctured his skin and dug into the muscle beneath. Nic must have sensed or seen something wrong because he scowled and his skin changed in an instant, where it had once been pale it went dark grey and metallic. Fritz’s sword was stopped immediately, jarring his arm and shoulder from the sudden resistance. He tried to push harder, push deeper, but the blade wouldn’t budge an inch, stuck as it was in iron flesh.

A predicted pain like shattering and breaking pulsed over his nose so Fritz, not desiring to have his face pulverised, leant backwards out of the rapidly oncoming punch from Nic’s iron fist.

He was only mildly successful as he was still hit with blistering speed, but on the cheek rather than the nose. Using ‘The Arte Pugilist’s’ move-with-the-blow Technique he was able to diffuse some of the punch’s terrible force. Fritz threw himself at the stone, thudding to the ground like a sack of squid guts. He dropped Quicksilver with a clanging clatter and he felt a cut was opened along his prominent cheekbone. He knew it’d bruise and bruise badly, but in his book, it was far better than having his nose broken.

Danger Sense warned him of a powerful kick to the head and he quickly curled up into a ball to protect himself, catching the blow to his braced forearms instead of his fragile face and skull. With another kick to Fritz’s curled body, Nic stopped his reprisal and spat to the side.

“Okay, Gloom Strike’s not so bad,” Nic admitted, “But you are. See, if you had some Strength behind you might’ve actually got me.”

Fritz knew the man was lying, he already had turned off whatever Ability he had used to turn his skin to iron having only having used it for a second when he was surprised by Quicksilver piecing into his flesh. Obviously, Nic was trying to make it seem like he didn’t even have to use his magic to beat him, which Fritz now suspected wasn’t the case at all. He had cut him, he could still see the hole in the oilcoat and while he couldn’t see a trickle of blood he could swear he could smell its coppery tang.

Not wanting to push his luck any further Fritz merely wheezed out a, “Told you so,” before he slumped, pretending to pass out for a moment. Then he listened.

“Didn’t have to hit him so hard,” Bert groused as he sat up, rubbing his chest where he had been struck.

Nic spun on him, then searched him with a suspicious glare.

“I did, otherwise your friend would have some funny ideas about getting revenge. And I don’t much like having to look over my shoulder for every brat who thinks I did them some great harm,” Nic said. “Not that they could hurt me, but it does get tiring having to wipe their splattered remains off of my fists.”

Bert shrugged, and said, “Maybe if you weren’t such an arsehole they wouldn’t come hunting for you.”

Rather than an outburst and another kick to Bert’s chest, Nic instead chuckled coarsely, “You’d think that but, no. Being a bastard actually gets most of the morons to avoid you.”

“Speaking of others, weren’t you in a crew with that burnt girl and her grumpy guy?” Kev asked.

“Jane and Toby?” Bert asked reflexively. “They made it out?”

“They did indeed, with Paths and all,” Nic said. “Did you split up or something?”

“They… uh… left us behind,” Bert said sadly, sticking close to the truth.

“I see,” Nic said sceptically.

Fritz put on a loud groan and pretended to stir then wake. He sat up and looked around wildly putting a hand to his steadily swelling cheek.

“Looks like the sleepy-skulg has finally woken up,” Kev mocked.

“Got any of that healing grease?” Fritz asked as if dazed and done with his grudge. He wasn’t done, no the fury still bubbled deep in his gut, but he could wait to mete out his revenge. He’d done so for so long already, what was a couple more months?

“Here,” Nic said, throwing a tin of the stinking substance.

Fritz only saw the swift movement from the corner of his eye but he caught the grease tin deftly in one hand. His motion was too quick, too precise, and far too smooth for it to look entirely natural. Internally, he cursed himself for slipping up and potentially revealing his Advanced Attributes of Awareness and Grace.

“Nice catch,” Nic noted darkly, his scowl and suspicion seemingly growing deeper.

Opening the tin and smearing the bile-mint scented grease over his cut Fritz said, “Thanks, got quick hand, always have. Though not as quick as yours it seems,” He added timidly with a wince. Fritz was worried he was laying the flattery on a little thick but it seemed to mollify the man as the suspicion left his notched features.

“Right. Up, and empty your pockets, time to pay tax,” Nic said as if he’d said it a hundred times before, which he probably had.

“How much is the tax?” Bert asked as he and Fritz stood.

“Two-thirds,” Nic said, seemingly bored.

“What? That’s robbery!” Fritz protested.

Nic looked at him like he was an idiot, and replied, “Yes. It is.”

Kev chuckled maliciously with a glint of greed in his eyes as they began to unload their pockets.

Luckily they had prepared for this eventuality, they hadn’t seen Sid have to go through this treatment as she was led away almost immediately. Probably to go meet the Nightshark if Fritz’s guesses were correct.

Emptying their pockets took less time than the asking, they each had three golden triads and a selection of other small things, like twine, rags and their empty water skins. Bert however also had a palm-sized quartz stone orb that Fritz hadn’t seen before and that his friend was obviously trying to keep out of his sight.

Kev homed in on the gold as did Nic, but then he looked disappointed again saying, “Really? That’s all you have?”

“Yes,” Fritz said defensively. “It was horrible in there, we mainly hid and ran from the monsters trying to get to the next floor. Didn’t have much time for butchering monsters or looking for chests,” He added hoping he sounded suitably sullen.

“Then what about the horns?” Nic asked drily.

“They look like they have flecks of gold in them, might be worth something,” Fritz said.

“I was going to mount them above the fireplace as a trophy!” Bert blurted out.

“You don’t even have a house let alone a fireplace,” Fritz bickered back, replaying an argument they’d already had.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Nic said annoyed at the bickering. “We’ll take the triads, this quartz, and the horns. That’ll let you keep what you’re wearing, the imbued clothes and the... fish blade,” He offered with a grimace.

“No, not the horns,” Bert intoned seemingly devastated.

“Shut up, it’s just some dumb horns,” Fritz hissed.

“I want his boots,” Kev added, poiting to Fritz’s feet, to which Nic nodded in agreement, saying, “And his boots.”

“No, not the boots” Fritz intoned, actually devastated. Well, not devastated, but supremely annoyed at Kev's gall. First tying my laces now stealing my beautiful black suede boots, he lamented silently. If Kev wasn’t already at the top of Fritz’s revenge list then this little stunt would catapulted him right to it.

“Do it. I’ll take that ball of quartz as well,” Nic told an aghast Bert.

“How bout I give you the gloves and I keep the ball,” Bert bargained.

Nic looked at him thoughtfully.

“They’ll keep your fists from being stained,” Fritz rejoined, not exactly sure why Bert was so precious about the small sphere of quartz. He wondered where or when he’d even gotten the cloudy ball. But if his freind was willing to go as far as giving away his gloves Fritz would back him.

Nic seemed to think it over, then agreed with a jerk of the head.

Grumbling and glowering Fritz and Bert complied, knowing that now was not the time or the place to fight, the previous scuffle and their new bruises had taught them that very well.

Still, they plotted, planned and schemed as they were left with only the clothes on their backs, the orb of quartz and Quicksilver which the thugs didn’t seem to care about. Which both offended and relieved Fritz.

Still he had to stifle another smirk, giddy that their deception was working so well. He covered a giggle with a cough and put on the most mopey expression he could produce.

With one last disappointed look at their ‘loot’ Nic motioned for them to follow. They were led out of the dome and into the dank tunnels where the sound of sloshing waves was replaced with that of the familiar, nostalgic drumming of the rain.

Through the winding stone brick passages they trudged, and Fritz lamented the theft of his magic boots eyeing them jealously as they now protected another man's feet.

One day, Fritz fumed. He pushed down his anger for later, instead making sure to memorise the twists and turns of the dark maze-like tunnels.

Eventually, after what seemed like nine minutes, they were led up some stairs and to a heavy wooden door that led to the outside, but before it was opened and they were left to fend for themselves Nic halted them and dug out two silver triads from a pouch and handed each of them one of the glittering triangles.

“Don’t get too drunk celebrating your survival, or do, I don’t care. But don’t talk about the Spire unless you want to wake up drowned. If anyone has questions say you were in hiding or doing a job for me,” Nic warned.

They took the coinage as politely as they could manage, not bothering to hide the resentment and greed in their eyes. It was a pittance compared to all the loot they had just been deprived of, but it was best to take what they could get, and its not like they couldn’t line their pockets later. And there were always their stashed Treasures, both in the hole in the cliff and hidden...elsewhere.

“You’re to meet me at Bitter Ends down in the Bluestone district at dusk in three days. I’ll have a new job for each of you,” Nic told them.

“Don’t make me find you,” He warned, then unbarred and unlocked the door with a heavy brass key. He swung it open and they could hear rain in truth now as a cool breeze greeted them.

They stepped out into the rain and felt it caress their skin with nostalgic fingers they stood there for some seconds before Nic said, “Get a move on.”

Fritz shrugged and out of the corner of his eyes saw a magnificent storm hawk, rain slipping off its dark plumage. The blue almost black feathered hawk was perched on a leaking roof and watching them with a lightning blue eye. If Fritz didn’t know any better he would have thought the bird was glaring at him. It clacked its sliver beak, puffed out its stormcloud grey breast and let out piercing cry before taking to the rainy sky.

Nic subtly stiffened at the hawks call, a mote of surprise sparking from him that was quickly replaced with a dull aura of something like anxiety then something like relief. Fritz watched the man intently somewhat surprised he could somehow make sense of the impressions Awareness revealed about Nic’s emotions.

Must be because he’s not so guarded at the moment, or maybe it was just a surprise? He theorised.

“Scared of birds?” Fritz smirked. “Did they do that to your face?”

“No,” Nic spat, glowering. “Get lost or I’ll have you two skulg scraping for a month.”

Only needing to be told twice, they turned and left the two thugs behind. Fritz and Bert ran into then out of the dark alley they found themselves in, into a cobblestone street then they strode alongside a rushing gutter. After a couple of minutes, and then a couple more, once Fritz was sure they weren’t being followed they glanced at each other, grinned, and both began to laugh.

Leaning against stone walls in an empty street, they laughed until their throats were hoarse and their sides hurt. They slapped each other on the backs, congratulating one another heartily for their immaculate acting and the sublime success of their reckless ruse.

“We sure fooled them!”