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The Vial Collector https://elementscommunity.org/forum/index.php?topic=60698.msg1217320#msg1217320
« on: December 07, 2015, 11:35:33 pm »
Here's a thing I made a few weeks back that I forgot about.

The Vial Collector

Post reserved for contents page and introduction and stuff. Maybe. Or maybe I'll just leave this placeholder message here forever. This is a WIP as is pretty obvious to those of you lucky enough to own a brain

The Vial Collector: his story, and his plan.



I'd very much appreciate it if an admin would be kind enough to move the contents of each spoiler into a new reply to this topic. Didn't want to quadruple post, y'see. Cheers. Or not.

Spoiler for Part One: The Vial Collector:
The door opened, and a bell tinkled to announce the new customer. A woman stepped inside, dressed in a thick black cloak, shiny black leggings and black leather boots. The door closed slowly behind her, hitting the bell again as it shut but not hard enough to produce a sound. At the far end of the room, a bearded man with shoulder-length, messy hair looked up from a wooden desk. He looked at the customer briefly, then his gaze dropped back to the desk and to whatever he was doing.

The woman began to make her way forward. To her left and right were shelves upon shelves of glass vials. Some were neatly arranged, but most were simply drawers with hundreds of empty vials thrown in.

“This place lives up to its name.” she commented. The owner didn’t look up.
She continued. “The Vial Collector. Do you just sell vials?”
“Mostly. Empty and otherwise.” the man gruffed. Compared to his, her voice was silk.
“Do you collect them?”
The man finally looked up again. “How the hell do you think I have so many?”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The woman began to walk closer towards the man. She saw on the desk were a few pieces of parchment, a quill, and a small collection of empty bottles of ink. The topmost parchment was covered in line after line of scrawled handwriting. Given the amount of people in the shop buying - none - it was unlikely to be a business ledger. Perhaps a story, or a biography, or a letter? It didn’t matter. It was none of her concern.

The man looked up again. Closer now, she could see that his eyes were gaunt and hollow, and his copious facial hair could only do so much to distract her from the paleness of his skin. He placed down his quill, and it splashed a single drop of ink onto the parchment. He didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re not here to buy vials, I assume.” he said, staring directly at her.
She took another step closer, pausing. “Perhaps I am.”

As if she had suddenly changed her mind, she moved directly towards the nearest wooden drawer. Two black-gloved hands unsheathed from within the folds of her cloak, and she pulled on both the knobs of the drawer. It slid roughly forward, the vials inside clattering and clinking against one another. Reaching inside, she picked one up.

“Very thin glass. Round sides, pointy bottom. Based on the marks around the top, I’d say it was stoppered with a cork.”
She held the vial between two fingers, and pressed them together. The vial shattered, and tiny fragments of glass drifted down to the floor like dust in sunlight.
“Very fragile, too. This vial never held anything important.”

The owner shrugged. “You could work that out from how the vial was stored so carefully in a pile of other vials. You won’t get any benefit from analysing a vial, woman.”

“There’s not much to analyse in here, though, is there?” the woman asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I’ve analysed a vial. I’ve analysed your choice of decor - lots of dark wood, I like it - your desk, your parchment, your drawers, the way the vials are stacked within them. The only thing I’ve not been able to analyse is you.”
“I was right, then.”
The woman cocked her head. “How’s that?”
“You’re not here for vials.” He stood up from the desk. Under the impressive beard was a surprisingly skinny body, wrapped in a thin jacket.
“I knew you’d come for me eventually.” he continued, and began to pace around behind the desk. “Look at you. Clad in black. You’re from Darkness, I presume? Come to take me away for my actions during the Fifth War. Or perhaps you’re from Death, come to take revenge for what I did. Well, come on then. Look at me. I’m just a shopkeeper.”

His voice began to rise to a temper.
“Just a shopkeeper. And what do I sell? VIALS!!”
His foot slammed into one of the drawers and it jarred upwards. The sound of hundreds of tiny, fragile vials shattering against one another filled the room.

“A poor, defenceless shopkeeper. What threat could I possibly pose to you?”

The woman shrugged. “Not much. Probably. And I’m not from Darkness or Death or anything like that. But I do know you’re not a shopkeeper.”
“Oh?” the man asked, his head tilted obliquely to the left, walking directly towards her. The slight swagger in his step screamed ‘intimidation’. “And just how would you know that?”
He drew very close to her, such that he had to look down to make eye contact. His eyes burned with anger.

The woman sighed, and cast her head downwards. “Because I was in here yesterday, and you’re not the Vial Collector. I know him well - well enough to know that it’s not you.”

She looked up at him again. “And look at your eyes - so fiery. And your temper is off the hook. You’re high on Rage Potion, and drug addicts don’t run shops.”

The man took a step away from her. “Correct so far,” he relented, “but what do you want from me?”

“Where is the Vial Collector?”
“You’re stood inside it, right now.”
“The person, not the shop.”
“Downstairs. Bound and gagged.”
“Why?”
“Because he has something I need.”
“And tying him up is good way to get it?”
“Clearly, seeing as I already have it.”
“And what exactly would that be?”
“You.”

Spoiler for Part Two: Origin:
My name is Jenrk. I was nine Rounds old when I was drafted.
I remember, with perfect clarity, the day when they came and knocked on my door. He knocked four times, waited when nobody answered, and knocked four more. The sound of his metal fist against our wooden door was so unfamiliar to us, that despite the dangers lurking outside, my mother got up and answered it. I didn’t hear their conversation, but she quickly came back into the room and fetched me. Fearing for my life, I stood up and followed her. I glanced briefly at the hole in the dirt wall that we used as a window, barely covered by a wooden plank. I could’ve moved the plank and squeezed through and ran away, but I decided against it. I realise now that it was the thing I should have done.
The man at the door was a Warden, clad in a thick layer of shiny pieces of iridium armour. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I had no idea that its sole purpose was to distract me from what the Warden was saying. It worked perfectly. He was speaking and I had absolutely no idea what he was saying.
“...and we think that you’d be perfect for this role.” he finished. “What do you think?”
Having only heard the last few words, I assumed it was a job offer, and was about to say yes - we were rather desperate for money, after all. Only my mother’s fearful, teary eyes stopped me.
“Could you repeat that?” I asked. “Just so I have a clear picture.”
The Warden nodded. “The Earth army needs young, strong neuts like you. We’ve read your reports from the Clinic, and your affinity with animals would make you the ideal Gnome Rider, and we think that you’d be perfect for this role.”
I was speechless.
The Warden continued. “We’d need your answer immediately, of course, and your family will be reimbursed handsomely.”
“Will I ever see them again?”
“No.”
I turned to my mother. “Can we talk?”
She nodded, and we both moved back to the other room, leaving the Warden stranded alone in the doorway.
“I don’t want you to go.” she said.
“We need the money.” I pointed out
“We don’t know how much they’ll give us!”
“He said ‘handsomely’, that’s probably a lot. How much did the Strol family get?”
“Five hundred leptrum - almost eight electrum.”
“How long will that last you?”
My mother sighed. “Between me and your three brothers? Not long. Half a Round, perhaps.”
“Mum, look - the money will help a bit, and I’ll be gone too so that’s one less expense on the family. You and Snk can bring in a little money, Eirk too when he’s old enough, and then… I’ll have made a some money in the army and I’ll come back and I’ll help out too. And we’ll be happy.”
As I spoke a felt tears brimming in my eyes, and saw them in hers. We both knew Gnome Riders never came back from war. And we both knew that if I said no, the Warden would drag me out, kicking and screaming. I had no choice. I was being sentenced to death, and my crime was availability.

Spoiler for Part Three: My First Battle:
One Round passed - or eight segments, if you prefer - and I was a fully trained Gnome Rider. For the first time in my life I felt special - I felt powerful, I felt like I could make a difference in the world. In truth, I and my hundreds of identical counterparts were nigh worthless. We had cost one Earth quantum each to train - we were cheap fodder, and we were expected to pay quanta back to the leaders. One quanta per round. The commanders had been told that “Gnome Riders will generate one quanta per round” but they had no idea that the process was not automatic. Gathering and compressing dirt is hard, hard work, and it takes forever to produce a quantum. Enough to pay for another of me. I was nothing but a cheap investment in an inefficient military.

At this point in time, Earth was at war with Fire. I would be sent out to battle and not be welcomed back. This was my final destination, and now I look back on it so passively, like it was nothing. But at the time, it was hell.



The ground shook beneath our feet and a tumultuous crash echoed through the air - the terrifying sound that marked the beginning of a new Round.
“Second Round, First Segment!” the Warden called. “The enemy has erected two Burning Pillars thus far. We have no clue what their battle strategy is.”
“They’re using a Mark of Earth, sir.” one of the other Gnome Riders pointed out. “They could be fighting fire with fire… just Earth instead of fire, obviously.”

I stepped towards the exit of the commanding tent, and lifted the flap with my left hand. In the distance, two masses of red spikes protruded from the ground. From each, a tower of brightly-burning fire billowed into the air. The smoke seemed to extend upwards forever.

“What do you see, Rider?” the Warden yelled.
“Nothing, sir.” I replied. “Only the Pillars. Nothing new so far.”
“They must be waiting for us to move first.” the Warden deduced, as I lowered the flap to the tent. “What do we have so far?”
“Two Stone Pillars.”
“Can we get another?”
“Uh…” I checked outside again, this time in the opposite direction to the distant burning monstrosities. Our supply shipment was on its way. “I can’t see from this distance. But… stones. Lots of stones, I think. Enough to build a Pillar, hopefully.”

The Warden sighed. He took a step back, the iridium armour grating across itself. “Okay. When the good arrive, get three Neuts or creatures out there and build the goddamn pillar. I don’t care who does it, I just want it done. That’s all we can do for now. Then we just watch them.”
“I’ll help build the pillar.” I quickly volunteered, desperate for any excuse to stay away from the battlefield. “Sir, we have three quanta. Surely we should send a couple of Riders out?”
The Warden paused. “No. Not yet. But soon, soon. Soon as the moon.”
I nodded, and left the tent.

Supplied, as I had predicted, were mostly stones. Stone large enough that no Neut could carry them alone - but us Gnome Riders had an advantage.
Mounted upon my Beast, I approached the supply caravan. Two of my comrades followed.
Each of us took a stone from the wagon and let our Beasts arrange it vaguely comfortably on their backs. Then we made our way to the construction site.
It took us a quarter of a segment to reach it, meaning that we were roughly halfway through the first segment. Each Round has eight segments, and they pass disturbingly quickly. Every second counts. There are no breaks.
I was first to place my stone, and my partners stacked theirs roughly on top. We would go back a few more times, collect some more stones, and pack them together into a pillar with dirt from the ground. And somehow, that produced quanta. I had no idea how - I was only trained in what was strictly necessary for me to complete my job. Why waste time and money on education when you could be getting valuable military training?

By the time the pillar was constructed, it must have been close to the start of the sixth segment. Together, the three of us travelled back to the camp.

“Stone Pillar constructed, sir.” I announced as we approached. Nobody seemed to be listening, and all we facing towards the Burning Pillars.

“What are they all looking at?” my leftmost partner asked.
“No clue.” the other replied.

We rapidly drew closer on our Beasts, then dismounted an acceptable distance away. I ran straight for the Warden.
“Sir, what’s happening?”
“Some odd things happened while you were away, Rider. Here, take a look.”

Following his instruction, I cast my gaze across the battlefield towards the pillars of fire. Now, there were three - and one burned far brighter than the others. A Burning Tower. We were fighting a battle against a group whose training far excelled our own. Everything about them would be better, more powerful, more efficient. It was at that point that I knew we didn’t really stand a chance.

In the centre of the wasteland, alone, I could just make out a small red bird.

“What’s that bird?” I asked.
“A Phoenix.” someone replied. “But it’s a little small to be a phoenix. I’m sure they’re supposed to be bigger - I mean I’ve never actually seen one for real, but --”

The Phoenix exploded. A great wave of fire pulsed outwards from it across the battlefield.

“Murder me.” the Warden muttered. “Immolation.”

He turned away from the wasteland and towards us, and I knew that his iridium mask hid terror.

“New mission.” he said. “No longer do we aim to win. We aim only to cut our losses. Do whatever you can to ensure the survival of your comrades.”

I looked toward the battlefield again, and saw, in the distance, a Lava Golem marching toward us. That was the purpose of the Mark of Earth. There was nothing we could do.




Me and my team rode our Beasts back out to the Pillar. The stones used to make it were expensive, and if we could retrieve them and send them back prior to our surrender, that would be ideal.

We immediately began scrabbling at the now hard-baked dirt to expose the giant stones. As the one at the bottom of the stack was revealed, we all worked together to loosen it - but it was too weighted down by the stones above it. We move upwards, working on the next stone, and this one was loose enough to push with our combined strength. Together, the three Neuts and three Beasts pushed the stone and it fell to the floor, bringing with it an avalanche of dirt and dust and smaller stones.

Without a word between us, we each loaded up the largest stone we could carry. The yellow light of day turned to the red light of evening and we began -

Third Round, fourth segment. No way it was evening yet. That wasn’t until sixth, possibly seventh.

We looked up and saw what was causing the red light. Rain of Fire. A tool of mass destruction.

Within a few seconds, our peaceful air turned to burning heat. Globs of oil rocketed downwards, flung from far-off hostile catapults, each glob blazing like a torchbug in the dead of night. The oil splashed everywhere, and this wasn’t even the focal point - closer to the camp, the burning oil would have flooded everything. The whole platoon was probably dead. Here, closer to the pillars, we were safe. Ish. But not for long.

A great Explosion boomed from nearby, sending all six of us sprawling into the air. Chunks of rock twirled as if unburdened by gravity as we fell together in freefall.

I hit the ground hard, and didn’t wake for a while.

 

blarg: