Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches
The first notes sent the harp and mapping cube to storage in Foundry before Amdirlain scoured a patch of ground further down the mountain to bedrock. With it cleared, she lifted into the air, and Sarah followed suit to hover beside her. She moved the complete building, including the front wall with them both clear of it, past their foundation. Without so much as a strained timber, it resettled in the scoured site near new dormitories outside the inner wall. With the relocation done, Amdirlain''s attention turned to the now-empty site below her. Though tempted to avoid an exact match with the grey stone and redwood, Amdirlain kept her rebelliousness restrained.
As she hovered above the excavated lot, the mountain’s bones hummed as if urging her to call them up. Though simple, it risked eventual shifts under the surrounding buildings, and she created grey granite instead. Layers surged upwards, following the image in Amdirlain’s intent to form a structure and front wall from a single unbroken mass, though it matched the previous one in appearance. Columns and the once-ceramic roof were simply colour-shifted stone to match the hue of what had once been red-lacquered wood and tiles.
Though she could have played games and provided iris-like doors and shutters styled after the Anar buildings in her memories, Amdirlain created hardwood replicas of the components she’d shifted away.
Her original Resonance had guided her establishment of Nolmar’s dimensional space, an origami creation involving thousands of folded-together dimensional slivers. Each touched in a seamless expanse that ran hundreds of metres further than the outer walls contained. With her improved Resonance, she could trace dimensional boundaries with far greater accuracy, allowing the melody to fold and arrange them in a tighter compression. Though she could have completed it in a split second, Amdirlain relaxed and sang the full theme, improving the details as she went.
Before she had finished compressing layers into the first metre of the courtyard arms or the training hall, there was a cavernous expanse two kilometres long. When she reached the limits of the arms, their four-metre external width contained a space nearly fifteen kilometres across, yet her song’s efficiency continued to increase. With every burr that Amdirlain smoothed from her notes, the dimensional slivers folded tighter into place and the larger space provided by the training hall grew substantially.
Ultimately, it contained an expanse nearly five hundred kilometres across by four thousand, with the ceiling far out of sight. As Amdirlain finished stabilising her creation, she added underground crystals tied to the Outlands’ Mana to maintain them. When she wove the concealments to surround them, the flaws within the songs’ notes allowed her to catch the crystals’ presence. She worked through the songs a thousand times and slowly tightened the concealments, yet continued to hear their presence. Though they sounded far fainter, her continued ability to detect them drew a disappointed huff as Amdirlain bound the latest attempt in place and considered the notification that had appeared.
[Crafting summary: (Dimensional expansions)
Dimensional space (Small) x 2
Dimensional space (Medium) x1
True Song Crystal x8
Total Experience gained: +86,700,000
Olind?: +86,700,000
True Song Genesis [G] (10->11)]
The dimensional games provide more experience than some True Song Crystal constructs. Focusing on the notes'' accuracy continues to give me insights into the Power.
“Everything is steady, but I might have overdone it,” sighed Amdirlain dramatically, holding her thumb and forefinger a hairbreadth apart.
Sarah shot her a dazzling grin and pounced towards the closest door leading into a courtyard arm. “Might?”
Even as Sarah pulled open the door, the click of the door’s latch echoed in the space beyond, and she froze. “This is sweet. With a space this big, you’ll be able to pack plenty of students into your training hall and still have room for your obstacle course.”
“I’ve got a bit more room where the training hall is. Perhaps you should check it as well,” suggested Amdirlain.
Not sparing her a glance, Sarah trotted along the awning to the first set of doors that opened into the training hall. Sarah laughed so loudly as she cracked open the doors that Amdirlain set a sound barrier in place. “Overachiever?”
“I was on a roll and kept correcting the problems I could hear,” advised Amdirlain as she strolled over to join her at the door.
Sarah leaned against the doorframe and peered to either side. “This makes Foundry look like a neglected orphan. Poor little Demi-Plane, will you feed it and have it grow big and strong?”
“You’re the one that pointed out why I should have a home here,” protested Amdirlain before she shrugged helplessly. “I could upgrade Foundry’s space, but it has a different purpose. Wait, your bed is there. Is that why you want it bigger?”
Sarah laughed. “No, surely not. What are you going to do with all this space? Just set up an obstacle course, or will you duplicate all the traps the dwarven celestials created for you to train against?”
Amdirlain frowned. “I’ve barely used them, but I won’t duplicate the traps. If I died to one I duplicated, that might count as self-destructing, not having been killed by the Celestial who made the original. It feels improbable that I’d get one shot after my last surge of levels, but I’d rather not give Murphy’s Law a chance to bite me. Can you tell me why Ori trained the way she did? I don’t know if I should catch my mundane skills up.”
“If another Primordial holds hazards in place, the options are to overpower the Primordial, destroy the creations, or evade them. If you’re spending effort to overpower the creations, you can’t direct that energy against the Primordial,” explained Sarah.
“Oh,” muttered Amdirlain. “Efficient use of resources, not just because she wanted to blend in. I’ve kept putting off developing those skills.”
“Going to bump it up the list now?” questioned Sarah.
Amdirlain smiled sheepishly. “Erwarth recommended it years ago. The other issue is I’ve got an increasing divide in my attributes. My Strength and Quickness are lagging far behind.”
“How far lagging?”
“They’re a quarter of my now massive Endurance rating,” replied Amdirlain.
Sarah smiled slyly. “Massive Endurance?”
“Please don’t start,” pleaded Amdirlain.
A wicked little smile curled Sarah’s lips. “Only because you begged for it.”
She’s such a tease, and now I know she’s yanking my chain.
“Bitch,” huffed Amdirlain.
Her composed expression returned, but Sarah continued to chortle beneath the mask. “So you can take a hit but can’t get out of the road. Just as well that you held off until your resistances got higher.”
“Yeah, I won’t progress them fast now,” sighed Amdirlain. “I hope my Primordial Resistance is enough for the deep planes.”
“It might be, but you should improve your other defensive options since we didn’t cover all of them,” advised Sarah.
“I’ll create a shielded area for practising my spell casting,” said Amdirlain. “Though that is a point with all the people gaining affinities, I should establish something for the monastery’s students to use.”
Sarah returned to the side area, set a large metal workbench out, and spread various metal working tools atop it. “It’s been a while since I used normal tools, but I might as well not give the game away.”
As Sarah arranged things to her satisfaction, Amdirlain watched from the doorway, only for a strange nostalgia to hit; the strength of the impact had her expecting another rush of memories, but nothing came forth.
The memories settled down again? Should I fish for one not involving Ori? I’d like to look at her arena again and see if I can recall her building it.
“You told Nomein and the others your full schedule would start in a couple of days,” said Sarah, not looking up from the tools. “What have you got planned between now and then?”
“I’ve got sparring sessions lined up with two of the masters and want spare time to establish things,” informed Amdirlain.
Sarah nodded and looked up. “Are you going to fill in some of that space with entry rooms so people aren’t just walking into that cavern in the training hall?”
“No, actually,” replied Amdirlain. “I want them to come in and feel the full impact. Maybe I’ll add floating platforms with tables for entertaining guests.”
“Subtle,” drawled Sarah.
Amdirlain laughed. “I’m not even trying to be subtle. Sometimes, a casual display of power will get people to take you seriously.”
“Oh, this little thing? Yes, I’ve had it for ages, darling,” lisped Sarah.
“It''s not quite what I’m getting at, but it might be fun,” replied Amdirlain. “I was going to go for modest Novice, but Livia and Kadaklan knocked that plan on the head, so I’m going to have some fun instead.”
A grin lit up Sarah’s gaze. “Dear, oh dear. What have they let themselves in for?”
“Do you know anything about primordials?” asked Amdirlain.
“With the minimal I know, I won’t drop hints either, especially since he told you it would cause problems,” Sarah rejected, and her words rumbled in her throat. “No fishing!”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Amdirlain, and she snapped a salute.
“Please, I work for a living,” grumbled Sarah.
Amdirlain smiled. “Taking naps is such hard work.”
Movement on the lower slope of the mountain drew Amdirlain’s attention. “Kli is on the move and heading this way.”
“Goodness, slipping away from a sleeping lover, tsk,” replied Sarah. “Did they leave her unsatisfied?”
“No, she sounds happy—eager and happy—so it might be she’s simply looking forward to lessons,” supplied Amdirlain.
“She gets to help you break your new training hall in,” said Sarah.
“Like a new pair of leather shoes, I’m sure the place will rub someone the wrong way,” replied Amdirlain. “I’ll leave you in peace while you get your equipment settled in. Maybe I’ll start on my obstacle course.”
“I’ll be back and forth for a bit. I don’t have all the gear for an Artificer workshop with me,” advised Sarah.
“No worries, I don’t plan to go anywhere today, so you know where to find me if you need something,” said Amdirlain, and she headed to the cavernous expansion at the rear of the courtyard.
The lack of light in the dimensional areas didn’t impact Sarah or Amdirlain but would challenge most students. Without changing its external appearance or sturdiness, a melody adjusted the stone roof to let the sunlight through, but the effect on the enlarged space was a diffused illumination. After brief consideration, Amdirlain supplemented the glow with floating globes that lit the place like halogen floodlights.
Amdirlain cast a waiting variation of the Message Spell. “Master Payam, it would be my honour to host you and however many observers you’d like to bring to my training hall. I’ve made some adjustments to ensure plenty of space so that mere boundary lines shouldn’t determine the outcome.”
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With that obligation handled, Amdirlain knelt in the doorway and stretched Resonance through the space as she spun hundreds of themes out. Reinforced barriers shimmered into existence to mark out spaces for spell casting and sparring areas and protect any that stood nearby. As she considered the creation of an obstacle course, Orhêthurin’s training arena, with its trapped floor, moving hazards, and constructs, niggled at her thoughts. When she’d initially recalled the memory, True Song and Resonance were denied to her. A slow exhalation carried nervous tension from her as Amdirlain looked inwards.
Her awareness skimmed across the battered landscape of her Soul, the golden surface pox-marked and broken, jagged spires and chasms mocked Amdirlain as her attention settled on a scar near an aching void. Within the Soulscape, she landed next to what seemed a chipped ridgeline and, among the fractures, she knew the pain that belonged to the memory she sought. Delicately tracing a tiny fracture among thousands on the ridge, the scene bloomed around her.
The memory smoothly unfolded, lacking the rough edges she’d experienced when delving into other memories and the moment carried an emotional clarity instead of the tight coil of emotions. The last time the memory started had been when Orhêthurin’s daughter arrived, but in this recall Amdirlain experienced her dropping into the arena.
Snippets of her confrontation with Hirindo ran through her mind, sparking pain in the repeated recall of her husband’s flat rejection, and a myriad of ‘what ifs’ haunted her thoughts. Each pointed out how she’d worsened the situation, and her continuing love for him drowned her with guilt.
As her feet lightly touched down on the hardwood slates, Orhêthurin took her pain and grief, and crushed it in a furnace of determination. Beneath the slates, millions of melodies crafted to provide ever-shifting obstacles and traps echoed in a layer above the most lethal mechanisms. On those, Orhêthurin’s will focused and multiple chimes resonated a melody to which Orhêthurin sang a counterpoint. Silence settled briefly before additional mechanisms shifted through dimensions to strengthen the existing dangers and disable all the safeguards.
Within the white-grey stonework, mechanisms reacted to her weight on the floor, and doors opened to send columns of spinning blades towards her. Many dubbed the scythe-like blades dragon claws, but these would hit harder than all but the most ancient of wyrms. Orhêthurin sprinted forward with her flowing steps, a dance that triggered more traps and spells from the walls. Amdirlain absorbed the surrounding music and leapt into Orhêthurin’s memory of creating the arena millennia earlier.
Strands of stone rose from the earth and braided themselves in a honeycomb pattern until an enormous dome covered two kilometres of the grasslands. With the main frame completed, more strands rose and threaded through the different levels, while others established spiral staircases that ended at the circular walkway a hundred metres from its top.
There was no attempt to fold the dimensions to provide extra space; instead, the machinery for the traps, gadgets, and enchanted weaponry slipped sideways in reality. Among them, Amdirlain caught the brutal devices sent into the furthest reaches whose power seemed enough to snuff out stars. Yet to Orhêthurin, they seemed mere dangerous toys that were a scant threat except to embarrass her. Within the core of the mechanisms, songs weighed the strengths and weaknesses of those within and determined how to stretch the limits of both. The purpose of it all was to keep herself honed rather than from any expectation of growth. Unlike many songs Amdirlain had heard enacted by Orhêthurin in her memories, there was no joy or delight within the melodies, only brutal and cold efficiency.
It was a heartlessness that Orhêthurin directed towards herself, and Amdirlain fled from the memory. The scene in the Soulscape was unchanged, and the spectacle of the broken landscape, despite its warm hue, twisted Amdirlain’s stomach.
She didn’t delight in creating everything, and she deemed battle simply doing what was necessary. What is my Martial Art to me, an essential Skill or something I enjoy?
I don’t see how Livia can believe all these scars and damage to be beautiful. She never got close enough to see the full spectacle. Or she only saw it from the orbital platform Viper and I used to appear on.
Amdirlain reached out for another nearby fracture but stopped before she straightened her finger to bridge the gap.
Am I now seeing all the issues without beauty simply from being down at ground level? Did it look comforting before because of my distant perspective? Or am I seeing the microscopic grains in the woodwork and ignoring the impact of the whole?
The ground blurred away and, before she could react, Amdirlain hovered so far from the golden surface it looked the size of her palm. Amdirlain mentally nudged herself closer to the orb and, in fits and starts, eventually got an overhead perspective of her Soulscape to fill her vision. It looked like someone had taken a mangled cookie cutter and used it to smash into something more significant, leaving only a circle with uneven edges along its course. However, away from the edges, the fractures eased into mere ripples, creating a topography that appeared like a living world.
As she followed the thinning line of a fracture, Amdirlain found a significant depression with thousands of familiar statues she’d once visualised lying in a lake of sludge. She found a statue of the Mithrilblood Patriarch among them, but almost didn’t recognise him given the youthful visage and his beard in wedding braids.
His pre-wedding look, rather than the mess he was at the end.
Unsure of precisely what she sought, Amdirlain started to drift in the direction where she’d last seen Ori’s form but stopped beside a female statue with elven cheekbones and ruby skin. Next to her was a mound that she’d thought was simply part of the lake bed, but now she recognised as a solidified representation of the energy lifeform whose existence she’d briefly glimpsed.
Hesitantly, she reached for it, only to yank her hand back.
I have enough issues with my headspace; there are better options than adding a completely alien perspective. I want some insights, but that will be unlikely to help since Sarah doesn’t even remember living that way.
A step set Amdirlain beside the ruby-skinned female, and she rested her palm on the statue’s forehead.
A packed auditorium listened to her mate’s roaring and took in the scents he produced. Motion seized her attention and, with a sword already in hand, she pivoted towards one customer who strained the boundary rope. The motion caused the younger male to step back from the stage rope and raise his hands submissively. The gesture did nothing to still her anger at the customer’s intrusion, and blood lust rolled off her. Others who’d also started to strain against the boundary retreated violently, forcing the crowd behind to give way to their craven hearts. The performance ran through dozens of songs ranging from playful to challenging, but none mellowed the tension incited by the aggravation of her fresh pregnancy. His fans loved him with too much passion, and many had taken it to dangerous, if exciting, extremes.
From rows deep in the crowd, a female lept high with her diamond-sharp fangs already fully unsheathed. A sidestep put Am in position to intercept with a cleaving strike. With her free hand, she grabbed the ankle of the falling body and flung it back into the crowd; those who caught it drank from the still jetting stump. As it bounced across the stage an attendant caught the head and hustled to set it on the stage edge—it might be reunited with the body if the hunger cooled before her mind reached final death. Among the blood-splattered throng, those blessed by the female’s offering licked the blood from each other’s skin to savour the sensations of excitement, lust, and pain. Those not close enough lifted their liquor-filled glasses and toasted the more fortunate among them and the Matriarch whose fading life they celebrated.
Before she turned back towards the crowd, her husband’s hunger-infused gaze blazed with anticipation for their after-show celebrations. Still, the notes didn’t falter, and her own craving stirred for his glistening body. Before she could excite him further, her gaze snapped to the crowd, and she returned to her position. Three songs and four torpors later, the scent of death from the Matriarch’s passing filled the air, and all those present threw back their heads and howled their goodbyes. Around them, bodies started to fall as her bloodsworn perished in droves. With a quarter of the crowd dead at their feet, those still standing feasted before the blood could cool.
Amdirlain yanked her hand free, but snippets about their culture came with her.
Living vampires? So much for not wanting an alien perspective. Though, at least I’ll get to tease Sarah about being the ultimate goth singer. A species of predators that could only normally die from old age, but some blood magic linked elders to their servants.
Klipyl plopped down beside Amdirlain and rested her head on a shoulder without a word. Happiness buzzed from within the Celestial, and Amdirlain’s Soul welcomed the energy. The shift of energies caused a tiny indentation left behind by the thorns that had covered Ori’s statue to vanish.
“Good morning,” murmured Amdirlain as she released the Soulscape.
“Something wrong, sis?” chirped Klipyl.
“Just a lot has gone on since we last spoke,” replied Amdirlain, and she winced at the undertones of tension in her voice.
At the wince, Klipyl straightened up, slung her arm around Amdirlain’s shoulders and gave her a gentle, one-armed hug. “Here to help with whatever I can.”
“I’m dealing with some old memories and confusion arising from Ori’s relationships,” replied Amdirlain. “While they’ve opened my eyes on some matters, it’s hard to know what is right for me. I went looking into other memories and got a weird one.”
Klipyl nodded understandingly. “It’s hard to live in someone else’s shoes. Attempting that has caused many personal issues for people I’ve spoken with over the years. From newlyweds fighting because one partner or the other doesn’t do things like the other person’s family, to families in different professions simply not taking the time to understand the other person’s stress.”
“You don’t cook as good as mum. That’s not how to fold the clothing,” muttered Amdirlain. “What do you normally get them to do?”
“Focus on the things that brought them together and work at building new standards,” replied Klipyl. “Doing some chores together instead of just expecting the other person to have done it the way you expect. Small steps are often needed, especially if they’ve been fighting or been married off on their relatives’ orders. That second I’ve run into even here.”
“Among the students?”
“The eldest son of the largest village’s chief,” clarified Klipyl. “He got ordered to marry to unify the villages.”
“Aren’t there three villages?” inquired Amdirlain.
“And?” questioned Klipyl. “The other chiefs had daughters of marriageable age. He didn’t understand why they were so timid in bed. I felt like clipping his ear, but I explained to him it’s important to work up to intimacy.”
“Numbskull?”
Klipyl shook her head. “Nah, just stupid expectations. His parents don’t argue because his mother sounds pretty submissive, but he didn’t marry submissive women.”
“Oh,” murmured Amdirlain. “Did they even want to get married?”
“Pfft, one had other plans, and the second had her eye on a different man—their relationship had been approved until they moved here,” replied Klipyl. “She hadn’t even met the chief’s son until the marriage ceremony.”
“Yikes,” said Amdirlain. “How did you get involved?”
“You asked me to find out what options they had for advancing, so I went and talked to the villagers,” said Klipyl. “The guy was muttering furiously about the latest family clash and didn’t hear my approach.”
“How did he react to an Elf in a ribbon?”
Klipyl shrugged, and the ribbon rippled across her skin, expanding into a silken kimono before it retracted again. “Best purchase ever.”
“You’re pushing the enchantment to the limits, getting it to reform into that outfit,” cautioned Amdirlain.
“I know,” replied Klipyl. “But I’ve been told that attempting a form beyond its limits will result in it not changing.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” mused Amdirlain. “I’d get Sarah to examine it as I hear discordant notes. However, that could just be me, as my sensitivity has jumped. There is one other thing to be aware of, Klipyl.”
“Oh?”
“White is associated with death in some local cultures,” explained Amdirlain. “While it’s one thing when it’s just a ribbon or decoration, a full kimono has other implications.”
“No wonder he looked like he was going to pass out,” laughed Klipyl. "He was initially startled, but I calmed him down enough to answer my questions. I had thought it was because of the elven ‘noble’ being down among the warehouses. Maybe I need to go back to reading thoughts, but that’s too much like the old days, and it’s more fun to be charming.”
“Only charming?” laughed Amdirlain.
Klipyl’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “A tiny bit charming. It’s been good fun to talk to the different people around this place.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun. Have you got any information for me?” asked Amdirlain. “Cyrus mentioned he spoke to you about my request.”
Klipyl nodded. “I heard about a hall used for teaching kids, but it was empty when I checked, so I figured I’d ask him about it. He says you have a different viewpoint about education than most I’ll meet here. Where would you like me to start?”
“Wherever makes the most sense to you,” replied Amdirlain.
“Okay, well, they weren’t given a choice to relocate, but most villagers are happy they did. The crop production in the outlands is stupidly fast, and they’ve got far more food than they used to get at home,” replied Klipyl.
“Yet I saw kids working the fields before the morning started,” said Amdirlain.
“The kids get more time for lessons now they’re near the monastery. Afternoon sessions every third day are a mixture of being taught techniques to sense their Ki, reading and writing, and what they call the classics.”
As she considered that news, Amdirlain raised an eyebrow briefly. “What options do they gain by applying themselves to their studies?”
“If they can sense their Ki, they might join the students, but that’s rare,” said Klipyl, and she hastened to clarify her statement. “Sorry, sensing the Ki thing is rare and requires effort and then more effort to show any sign of being able to use it.”
But there are techniques to make it easier, so it sounds like they don’t use them. That turns individual effort and natural talent into the first filter for candidates.
Amdirlain nodded. “For those that do show signs?”
“They’re warned not to select a Class without first training. If they’ve got the aptitude for it, they can join the students, but it gets more complicated if their aptitude differs. Joining the students is more common now. Before the move, only the best in a year’s recruitment were accepted. Now, the village youth get first spots, and then the monastery brings extras from the kingdoms.”
“How about opportunities for those without Ki?”
“Only if they apply themselves to their lessons. Otherwise, it’s fieldwork or craft apprenticeships. Those they have to arrange themselves and go first to the crafter’s family,” answered Klipyl. “The most respectable career for those that can read properly and have presentable calligraphy is joining the clerks. The people I spoke to all believe that the clerks receive good pay. They even have the choice of silver or contribution points, but what works best depends on their family''s needs.”
“For special items that are cheaper with points?” asked Amdirlain.
Klipyl nodded energetically. “Some feel it’s best to stockpile contribution points in case of any grave illness in the family. You can get a potion from the duty pavilion, but that could be years of savings.”
Yep, no free healing for the peasants. Then again, there isn’t free Ki healing for the students beyond what healers offer in the lessons.
Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully and considered what she had heard the other day. “Don’t the healers help those in the fields?”
“Cuts and breaks, yeah, but diseases aren’t something Ki can fix without the right knowledge.”
Amdirlain gave her a one-armed hug without shifting position. “Thanks for looking into that. Do you want to start your lesson?”
“In a minute,” said Klipyl, and she sighed contently. “This feels nice, and you make a great headrest.”
When Amdirlain started laughing, Klipyl sat up straight and put her hands on her hips. “Less so when you’re bouncing from laughter.”
Amdirlain rose and motioned Klipyl to move further into the hall. “Now that I’ve ruined it, let’s begin.”
Klipyl reappeared further out into the training hall and assumed a neutral stance before she started on the first strikes.