Spire's Spite

The goblin Chief towered over Fritz’s kneeling form its burning-bright blade held high. The creature trembled with giddy delight and giggled darkly as its radiant sword swung down in a terrible, effortless arc.

Fritz pushed against the compulsion bearing down on him. The force that bade him stay still and held his body rigid tremored but held. He felt the taut mental bonds that held him had tightened where he had pushed but they had loosened across the other parts of his body. A plan came to mind instantly but he didn’t have time to enact it, no, no time at all. He could already feel the heat of the blade on his cheek as its brightness blinded him on that side. He knew he couldn’t move in time, but could he use his magic?

In a panic he called on his very first Ability, pitting his will against the crystal floor under the Chief's bare and oddly long foot. The crystal resisted but shifted all the same causing the Chief to stagger as its crude stance slipped. It wasn’t enough, though he had diverted the blade by a couple of inches it was still coming down on his shoulder. Better than my neck, Fritz thought but still a deadly wound.

But now that he knew his magic worked, he activated his ring. The Chief’s sword was mere inches from cutting into him but was shunted suddenly to the side by the abruptly appearing then bursting barrier. The blade struck the ground in front of Fritz, sparking as it scored then stuck into the crystal below. The Chief barked, spitting out furious syllables as it attempted to pull its sword free.

Fritz used the time he bought from his little trick the fight against his mental bonds a second time, focusing on the force around his legs, knees and feet. His efforts shook the energy of the compulsion more heavily than his last attempt, but the constricting power was too strong to break completely. His legs twitched and the goblin Chief noticed, glowering it pulled again on its still-stuck scintillating sword. It failed again to yank out the sword. Frustrated it sent its free hand darting forth and the Chief rapidly wrapped its long, pale and surprisingly warm fingers around Fritz’s throat. It squeezed.

“Got you,” Fritz growled. The goblin's grip tightened and he choked on his growing smirk and gloating words.

With another flare of effort Fritz twisted and squirmed his will into the tips of his fingers, then outwards into his hand and up his arm. His Control slipped through the invisible bindings like an eel in a too-loose net. He acted, slashing his dagger upwards at the goblin's wrist. As he swung Fritz activated both his daggers curse and his own Gloom strike. The dark, bitter malices fought each other as they coated his bone blade, their discordant energies clashing in an inaudible wail at the edge of his senses.

For a moment Fritz was afraid that the Chief would notice the sputtering shadows and that the cold curse roiling, rioting over his dagger would give his strike away. But his arm swept up unseen and the bone blade cut into and through the Chief's wrist with surprising ease. The grip on Fritz's neck relaxed somewhat but remained tight, somehow still clenched even without it being connected. The Chief glared into Fritz’s eyes with its candle flame irises and giggled darkly, obviously enjoying his strangled torment.

The creature frowned when it noticed its ringed hand didn’t obey its intent. It stepped back from Fritz leaving its severed appendage behind. A look of dawning horror and black fury stretched its already hideous features into a rictus mask of gnashing, mad rage. Its own mismatched, needle teeth cut into its thin lips and it bellowed bloodily.

Fatigue and a small amount of fear set in, but Fritz was too elated by the success of his gambit to pay those feelings any heed. Now that his arm was free of the mental bonds he pulled at the steadily weakening force. The goblins and his crew seemed also to be breaking out of the Chief’s command. Sid was quickest to do so and jerkily put her fin blade to a guard's exposed throat and drew it across slowly, even as the goblin watched on and twitched viciously. Then suddenly; all were able to move again. The battle resumed with a flurry of movements and renewed yells, shrieks and giggles.

Fritz fought off and squirmed out of the last of the compulsion holding him, jumped to his feet and cast his Illusory Shadow over the Chief’s throne. His crew took notice and rushed the Stairway that was behind the throne and cut into the back wall. Sid slipped and weaved; Bert ducked and dodged; past the goblin guards and their shimmering weapons. The Chief goblin charged at Fritz, it had finally managed to pry its sword free in its mad rage and was swinging it in vicious sweeps heedless of any goblins near it. One of its elite guard fell to its sizzling blade as Fritz dived under a swift slash aimed at his head.

He met the ground in a rolling motion that brought him to his feet, and he gallantly fled, leaving the Chief to meet out his fury own its own kin. Fritz raced past the goblins, jumping over their attacks or sliding under their strikes. As he passed the throne he spotted a dark mass right below the seat, sealed under the gleaming crystal.

Fritz’s mind immediately leapt to the Treasure chest in the Glass Bull room, and he was sorely tempted to stop and see if he could get to the prospective chest. He knew the Chief was after him as he could hear it shriek at him from behind, the goblins were going to close in at any moment, but he couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.

“Big.. Fish,” he grumbled out.

He ducked around the back of the throne, kneeling again and putting the thick crystal between him and his pursuers. He was tired, exhausted even, and doubly so from all the Ability use, but he felt he had enough for one more casting left, even if it would leave him reeling.

Setting his Control into motion, shaping the spell the way he wanted; he activated his Stone Pit, using its cool light to pull open a hole just big enough for the dark shape to fit through. Fritz’s head swam but he was able to grab the bronze banded wooden chest. He pulled it to his breast and staggered up and towards the Stairway where Bert stood waiting, worry writ plain across his rugged features.

Fritz took another step and he fell forward as the vertigo hit him, a burning bright flash flew over his head and he recognised it as the Chief’s searing sword. It plunged into the right side of the Stairway’s arch, just in front of him. His greed urged him to take the sword too, but his body barely responded, he clasped the wood of the chest tight as he felt hands grip him and drag him away. With all the spinning he couldn’t tell which direction he was being pulled, but knew in his heart that he had pushed too far again. Always too far. And I will suffer for it. His vision darkened, and garbled words rumbled in his ears.

“The.. hand, get...grip,” Sid’s voice rang painfully in his ears.

There was a grumble, the world started to retreat. Replaced with black, no, it was always black, colour was just an aberration, light a chaotic inevitability.

Someone was slapping his face, he woke up. It wasn’t the worst way to wake up as it was Sid slapping him, not Bert. The world came back into focus quickly, he must have passed out for a moment because they were still in the Stairway, he’d been dragged out of the reach of the goblins, who stared and shrieked at them. Especially the Chief who pounded his good, and now only, hand on some invisible barrier that stopped him from entering the Stairway.

“He’s awake!” Sid shouted. “Come on, Fritz, get up!”

Bert also yelled some words of encouragement but Fritz couldn't quite hear them over the furious howls of the Chief.

Fritz stood wearily. He was unsteady on his feet but let himself have the satisfaction of smirking and bowing to the Chief in a mocking farewell. The small chest he had been holding almost fell from his arm, but he thought he played it off well. He turned his back to the jabbering horde and strode, well, limped, up the stairs.

When they were some ways up the staircase Sid asked, “Where’d the chest come from?”

“Under the throne, still got the Chief's hand?” Fritz replied adding a question of his own.

“Nah, ditched it once we broke the ring off,” Bert said, holing up the golden ring with dark purple gemstones that glittered softly in the shadowed stairway.

“Nice job,” Fritz coughed. He wanted to rub the tension out of his neck but as he only had one good hand and it was preoccupied with his dagger and the bronze banded chest he had to let it wait.

“Yeah, that floor was fun. Hope we get another like it. Except without the mind magic, I don’t like it much,” Bert mused.

“Well, next time I’ll find a goblin fort without any Treasure-holding chieftains,” Fritz said blandly.

“That’d be great, Fritz. I knew I did good when I fished you out of the gutter,” Bert eagerly reminisced.

Fritz shook his head smiling at the memory.

“Where’d the Chief even get the Treasure?” Bert asked.

“Maybe it opened a chest?” Fritz suggested too tired to think through the implications.

“Then why didn’t it open the one you’re holding?” Bert said prodding Fritz in the back with a finger, urging him to climb the stairs quicker.

“I don’t know. Keeping it for later?” Fritz didn’t know why but as soon as he said it he thought he was on the right track.

“I didn’t even know monsters could open chests,” Bert said.

“My father's journal mentioned something along those lines,” Fritz explained. “He thought it was an exaggerated Spire tale, like Faeries, but he may have been wrong.”

“This is the weirdest Spire I’ve heard of,” Sid added. “Not much about it has been normal. By all rights we should’ve run into a floor that was not a complete deathtrap.”

“What about the Maze and Trap floors?” Bert countered.

“Woulda’ killed us for sure without Fritz’s Abilities,” Sid stated darkly. “One wrong move and boom or splat.”

“What if Fritz just chose wrong?” Bert said.

“First of all; how dare you? Second of all; maybe,” Fritz supplied wearily, barely putting any effort into his feigned offence.

“Not likely,” Sid disagreed.

Fritz nearly beamed from Sid’s vote of confidence but could only manage a well-worn smirk.

They plodded up the stairs, their panting slowly easing into heavy but steady breaths.

Five minutes that felt like five hours later, they had reached the Well Room landing. Fritz looked about with the odd sense that he was being mocked. The room appeared to be a smaller, a much smaller, version of the cavern they had just fought through and fled from. Mushrooms carpeted the shallow basin’s floor and in the centre was a miniature fort of crystal complete with a tower that was about the same height as his chin.

The small fake Spire was resplendent with Power and pulsed with radiance. Fritz set the bronze chest down and his pack for good measure, then he trudged towards the small tower.

“New Ability, new Ability, new Ability,” Bert cooed in a singsong tone, pulling ahead of Fritz but unable to outpace Sid as she reached the Well first with her long striding grace.

She effortlessly vaulted over the calf-height wall and placed her hand upon the crystal tower’s dazzling surface, siphoning its Power into her own. Sid turned to Fritz and Bert and smiled, eyes twinkling, before she sat and plunged into her Sanctum.

Bert got to the Well next and was sitting and falling into his Sanctum within moments. Fritz was left to watch, he knew it was probably safe but this was the last Well before the Precipice and the Spire had tried to drown them with a timed trap once before. Touching the glowing crystal himself he felt the lines of burning cold energy race up his arm and into his Sanctum where it mingled with his own radiance and was absorbed, adding to his growing Power.

Where the small spark in his centre had been there was now a twinkling cool star the size of a fingernail. Fritz marvelled at its size. He had noticed it growing every time he ‘drank’ from the Wells but he hadn’t really paid much attention to its increased intensity. He idly wondered how big the Sanctum his centre would get, would it one day be as big as his fist? As big as his Head? As big as his whole body? How would it fit? He didn’t know much about that but he was sure it would.

Musing on these thoughts he waited, attempting to relax as he sat with his back to the glowing crystal tower anxious and excited to receive his new Ability choices. Bert came out of his Sanctum first with a pensive cast to his rugged features. He glanced to where Fritz was sitting and his brow rose in surprise.

“Fritz? Why aren’t you in your Sanctum?” Bert asked.

“Someone has to keep an eye out. Remember the trick on the second floor?” Fritz replied.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. Go see what you got, I’ll watch now,” Bert ordered.

With some trepidation and bracing breaths, Fritz readied himself for the pain in his arm to flare up. He let himself be pulled into the current of light in his centre and dove into his Sanctum.

Fritz was greeted with pain and rain, his arm stung as the cool drops showered the burnt flesh of his arm. His hand and forearm still looked terrible, but most of the black char around his cooked flesh had healed into thickly blistered red skin. He could move it again, far more easily, but it was still agony to do so. With an effort of will he pushed the pain away and stopped examining his tormented limb.

Fritz focused on the Power swirling around his Sanctum in lines of bright white, almost like shooting stars. The choices manifested in his mind as he reached out to them, pulsing and booming across his thoughts.

---------

Ability

Choose One

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Treasure Sense

Is it pretty? Is it shiny? Is it made of jewels and gold?

I can see it, I can touch it, it is mine to take and hold!

Increases your aptitude in detecting objects of value and Treasure Chests to a minor degree.

Alignment: Mind, Sense.

Cost: None.

Duration: Passive.

Refresh: None.

---

You have discovered and acquired three Treasure Chests.

Influenced by Sense Aligned Ability (Trap Sense).

Influenced by Sense Aligned Trait (Door Sense).

---

Danger Sense

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

Increases your aptitude in detecting imminent harm to a minor degree.

Alignment: Mind, Sense.

Cost: None.

Duration: Passive.

Refresh: None.

---

You have detected dangers and avoided many of them.

You have fought a battle against multiple monsters and did not receive damage.

You have dodged a deadly blow many times.

Influenced by Sense Aligned Ability (Trap Sense).

Influenced by Sense Aligned Trait (Door Sense).

---

Spell Shape

Pull it this way, push it that way, magic sculpted as you say.

Increases your aptitude in shaping your Abilities and Traits to a minor degree.

You may increase the cost of an Ability to increase your Control over its shape and form.

Alignment: Arcane.

Cost: None.

Duration: Passive.

Refresh: None.

---

You have shaped your Abilities many times.

You have sculpted your Sanctum.

Control is Activated

---

---------

Attributes Gained

+3 Unaligned

---------

Fritz nearly screamed. Not from the constant pain of his arm. No, it would have been from frustrated exaltation. Among his choices there were two Senses he desperately wanted and another passive that could seriously augment his Abilities. He decided to get away from the horrible distraction of his burnt arm and flew out of his Sanctum.

He woke to the real world then brushed away the sweat beading on his brow and saw Sid and Bert looking at him worriedly.

“What?” Fritz panted, finding himself strangely out of breath.

“You were groaning,” Sid stated. “Like you were in pain.”

“Moaning,” Bert corrected. “Like you liked it.”

Fritz scoffed at Bert’s comment.

“It didn’t sound at all like he liked it,” Sid argued giving Bert a pointed glare.

“And how would you know that?” Bert asked annoyingly while raising an eyebrow suggestively “You two been sneaking off together?”

“No,” Sid said flatly. “We know better than that.”

Fritz winced, from a jolt up his arm, not at all from the hardness in her tone. Bert looked at him sympathetically and shrugged.

“Abilities?” Fritz interjected before anything more could be asked down that line of inquiry. “Bert you first,” he added when no one volunteered quick enough.

“Sure,” Bert said with an eager grin. “I got the choice of Corrosive Conditioning, Hardened Bones and Provoking Presence.”

“Well, I think I know which one you picked already,” Fritz said. “Provoking Presence, the one that makes you even more annoying, no doubt.”

Bert frowned in mock outrage, “I haven’t picked yet!”

Fritz put on a display of being shocked to the core, fraudulently gawking at his friend.

“And it doesn’t make me more annoying,” Bert explained. “Well...actually... it does, but only to foes... probably,” he amended with a grin.

“What do the other two do?” Sid asked.

“I presume, Hardened Bones is fairly self-explanatory,” Fritz commented, rapidly dropping his act.

“Uhh, yeah. Hardened Bones does harden my bones. Useless for me, my bones already mend themselves,” Bert espoused.

“Not useless,” Sid said. “You would be spending less Stamina to repair your bones.”

“Plus, your fists could hit harder without being shattered. Not to mention it's probably a lot less painful to have your bones, you know, not break all the time,” Fritz said with not a little exasperation.

“Hmm, I didn’t think about being able to punch things even harder with Hardened Bones,” Bert said contemplatively. “But, I’m still leaning towards Corrosive Conditioning.”

“And what, pray tell, does that wonderfully alliterative Ability do?” Fritz asked.

“It’s sorta similar to Acid Resistance. But not,” Bert explained unhelpfully.

“Would you like to elaborate?” Fritz suggested.

“Not really,” Bert replied.

Fritz sighed. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth trying to get any information out of Bert. He supposed it was some sort of ‘don’t talk about it’ attitude a lot of the thieves, thugs and other ne’er do wells had, as secrecy and plausible deniability served as safety. But it was frustrating to deal with when it wasn’t warranted, like here and now in the Spire.

“Let me rephrase that. Please elaborate, Bert,” Fritz entreated trying not to show his annoyance as that would just encourage the idiot to be even more secretive, just to aggravate him.

“Since you asked nicely, I will,” Bert said smugly. “One second, I’ll just go read it again.”

He dived into his Sanctum and Fritz shook his head, and spoke to Sid as she stared on thoughtfully, “He’s always so secretive about the strangest things.”

“Maybe it’s cause I’m here,” Sid said as if the topic didn’t interest her.

“Nah, Bert trusts you. I can tell. Spires, I do too for that matter. You’ve been worthy of that trust every step of the way too. Far more so than the others in our crew. I think he just does the whole secrecy thing to annoy me. Which it does mind you,” Fritz blandly ranted, trying to give the weighty grudges some air.

Sid glanced over at Fritz with an unreadable, pensive expression cast over her features. She was about to speak but Bert popped back out of his Sanctum and said, “Increases resistance to corrosive substances to a minor degree. Further Increases resistance to corrosive substances that you have been afflicted with before to a minor degree.”

He then waited for Fritz and Sid’s reaction to his seemingly word-for-word recitation.

“So it’s Acid or Corrosive Resistance that’s better against acid you’ve already been melted by?” Fritz asked.

“It might be useful for your Corrosive Spray, but Abilities can be evolved to not harm their user,” Sid stated. “I heard of a Fire Elementalist that evolved his Fireball so it wouldn’t burn him.”

“Ah, yes. But there’s one more line: Resistance can be increased from repeated exposure,” Bert proclaimed proudly.

Sid lifted her eyebrows, she seemed actually impressed, “Pretty powerful.”

“Quite the Ability,” Fritz said as he thought. “So eventually you’ll be immune to your own acid without having to evolve your Corrosive Spray. Very... effective and probably painful.”

“That seems to be the gist of it,” Bert said grinning. “So which should I pick? Provoking Presence, for keeping enemies attention on me? Harder bones for punchin’? Or the last and definitely the best one, Corrosive Conditioning?”

Fritz thought on the conundrum for some moments and settled easily into Bert’s own thinking. Corrosive Conditioning and Hardened Bones were about equal in Fritz's estimation, both had intriguing potential synergies and Evolutions. Fritz would’ve picked the bones but he knew Bert would pick the conditioning, he was just that sort of man.

“Go with what your heart says,” Fritz said dramatically.

Sid scoffed, and said, “Go with the conditioning, it’ll be good to not have to worry about you melting yourself anymore.”

“I’m glad that you worry. But you need not, for I have already picked Corrosive Conditioning! This was a test!” Bert announced.

Fritz groaned as his frustration and annoyance bubbled to the surface, “A test of what? A test to see if we are as disastrously dim as you?”

“Exactly! And you both passed!” Bert laughed.

Fritz couldn’t help but smile at his friend's antics and turned to Sid who sat there shaking her head with a small smile on her lips.

“How about you? What choices did you get?” Fritz asked her.

She glanced at him and was about to speak when Bert blurted out, “Oh no, Sid always picks second! Fritz should pick now, to make it fair.”

Fritz frowned, then shrugged, supposing it was fine for him to go next.

“Well, I guess I am in need of some advice.”