Lawlimi dove for cover. Damwise clambered onto the cage, torch in hand, and scanned the area. The ratfolk blended with shadows on the edge of the light, and their daggers reflected nothing. They were wiry and not quite filled out, like a gang of teenagers, and they surrounded Sashimibandit before he knew he was in danger.

He deflected the first knife stroke with his Bokken, then narrowly avoided being stabbed in his ribs, but the third assailant was one too many, and the tip of his weapon slipped under the steel shield Sashimibandit used as a backing for his breastplate and into the muscle beside his spine.

>>

(Sneak Attack! — Flanking Bonus — Dirk deals 642 Piercing Damage)

(Poison Resist — Failure — Constitution temporarily reduced)

(Sashimibandit (1000/1642)

>>

Sashimibandit screamed and went to his knees. This wasn't a game effect; it was his natural reaction to the real pain of being stabbed in the back. The sensorium bug they had encountered in the Mechano Factory was still in effect. They were experiencing undiluted pain.

Silva dropped her torch and equipped her weapon in a spin that left it quivering inches from the rats, but she stopped short of activating her Burning Whirlwind.

>>

Nezumi Cutthroat — Mortal 9

East — Earth — Violet (979/979)

>>

They were weaker than the mechanos, but there was a dagger against Sashimibandit's throat and another at his eye. He was whimpering, tears sliding down his cheeks as he tried not to move despite having a blade physically in his back. The third ratfolk was waiting for an excuse to twist it. Silva backed away, unequipping her weapon. Sashimibandit had been pulled from the verge of death already once today.

"Okay," she said, "what're we going to do now?"

"You go to the elders," the last cutthroat said in a spot-on rat person voice. It was throaty, hissy, and squeaky all at once. The vocal remixer had done excellent work. One approached her with a length of hair rope, and she allowed him to bind her hands in front of her. Lawlimi and Damwise were next, and finally Sashimibandit.

"How quick the wheel of fate turns," Damwise said, and the Therian binding his hands hissed at him.

They were walked around the cage, while wails of loss and desolation echoed at the sight of would-be saviors being marched away in defeat. On the opposite side of the pit was a small door that revealed a tightly curving spiral stairwell. Beyond this was a warren of passageways too tight for most humans to navigate comfortably, forcing them to duck or turn sideways at intervals. Water was running in the walls and out of pipes that had burst free here and there along the way, snaking like roots in unthinking profusion. There were access panels, ventilation systems, and mechanical remnants draped with moss so that it appeared the maze couldn't decide whether it was a dungeon or the under-works of a technologically developed metropolis.

In every direction I sensed Therians. Their bare feet had claw nubs that click-clacked as they shifted in the tunnels around us. None barred the way, and I eavesdropped on fragments of conversations as they went. What I heard wasn't promising. Human visitors had come before during the Maker's absence, and the way they spoke of those visits suggested that they had come to violent ends. After a nineteen-minute trek through the underground, a trek I knew to be deliberately circuitous, another stair appeared, and the party was brought up into the monastery.

Sashimibandit no longer sported a dirk in his back, the removal process had been accompanied by his screams over the top of Damwise's helpful humming.

>>

Hymn to Heroes - Resilience (Rank 2)

You and your party members gain a 20% bonus to resist poison and fear effects. Bleeding is reduced by 25%.

>>

Damwise sealed the wound with glue he kept in his medicine pouch, which the cutthroats had confiscated after realizing how many useful items it contained. When they reached their destination, Sashimibandit leaned against a wall, then slid into a seated position before finally laying on his side. He was done. The Therians ignored him.

The chamber had originally been meant as some kind of gymnasium, with a large open floor plan surrounded by tiered stone benches against which the ratfolk looked like children crawling over their parent's furniture. Stainless metal racks held weapons too large for most of them to lift, though Silva could have wielded them by brute force if she put her mind to it. There were axes with saw-toothed chains instead of a normal edge, hammers with mechanical modifications, and a single cloud sword with an untarnished Damascus blade and a huge dead cabochon in its crossguard.

"Dibs," Silva said under her breath.

Now Therians lived, ate, and slept on the benches, and the open floor was covered in hair rugs used for meditation and prayer. Censers burned continually, and a few small gems shone on poles, just enough for the yellow-eyed rodents to make their way. The party's torches had been pilfered and dowsed.

The Elders held court on the highest tier of the benches, and the party attained the level below theirs by means of a junkyard bridge, xyloid fungus and hair ropes and scrap sheet metal. It was tough going because of the low light, and Lawlimi caught his feet on loose fibers, falling face first. They had tied his good hand to his waist, so by reflex, he tried to catch himself with his stump.

>>

(Balance — Failure)

(Lawlimi takes 10 Impact Damage)

(Lawlimi is STUNNED)

>>

He moaned and rolled onto his back, agony arcing up his forearm and shoulder into his neck and head.

"Get him up," the cutthroat said.

Damwise helped Lawlimi back to his feet, and they came to stand beneath the gazes of the Elders, diminished and restrained.

"Long has it been since human feet have tramped these stones." The Elder that spoke was the furthest removed and most elevated on the thickest mound of hair mats.

>>

Ink Eyes, Nezumi Elder - Heroic 4

East — Earth — White

>>

"What brings you to our humble temple?"

"We're on a quest," Silva said. "We need an item called the Herald's Kiss."

Hissing and scratching filled the chamber, beginning as a whisper and rising to a white tide before cutting off suddenly at a harsh noise from Ink Eyes.

"Those are dangerous words. I take it you spoke to the demon of the tower?"

"I didn't see a demon." Silva couldn't meet the Elder's gaze from her angle, but she did a good job of pretending to stare him down. "There was a spirit in an amethyst crystal."

"Orobos ..." the name was spoken with a heady mélange of terror and reverence and menace. "That is the demon that infests this place. Where once the Maker tamed him, appointed him as his steed, now he festers in an eternal prison."

"The Herald's Kiss isn't for him," Lawlimi said, slick with sweat from the pain of his fall. "It's to awaken the pilot so we can go home."

"We know what it's for. You are the know-nothings. You are not the first heroes to meet us in the Undercity, and I doubt you will be the last. Orobos wishes to be free of this place, to fly between worlds as the Maker intended. Your success will be his success, but you cannot trust him."

Damwise, ever the story buff, had other interests. "Pardon, Lord Elder, but how did your people come to be in Undercity, so remote and apart from the natural world?"

Some of the Therians chittered their approval at his respectful tone. Ink Eyes inclined his head in recognition. "The Maker brought us here to aid the Star Men in maintaining the ship and its machines. When he left, the project was nearly finished, and we could do nothing but wait for his return. That was generations ago, and the Star Men we were prepared to serve were never born, save one. That one sits in patient reverie for the day his master returns to claim Eternity."

The throne and its offerings, the awful quiet of a being in impossible armor, that was their Star Man. He was alive?

"Listen," Silva cut in, "I get it, this is scary and dangerous, but can we just get the Herald's Kiss? We're on a deadline."

There were disapproving sparkles in the eyes of the Elders, but these NPCs were clearly geared to further the quest, not to execute players for being disrespectful, which players often were. Ink Eyes gave a small sigh. "We do not have the Kiss; it is frozen in a vault, a place we do not visit. All who go there are devoured by Dokutsu. You too will be devoured."

"Copy," Silva said. "And what about the Unbound Engine, how do we kick start that?"

"The engine is sleeping and must be fueled to wake. The gate that sequesters it is indestructible Titan Steel, but we can open it if we must."

"Great, let's do that first."

"No, we will not open the gate unless you have already survived Dokutsu and won the Herald's Kiss. It would cost us lives to do so, lives I'm not willing to waste on adventurers who will soon be dead."

"We don't get to choose the order," Silva said, "that's pretty basic."

"Can someone heal me?" Sashimibandit had gotten up and slogged up the ramp to make this demand. "You attacked for no reason! We would have come anyway. You owe me healing!"

There was chittering at this. "We are wary of trespassers. I will not apologize for your treatment. If we do heal you, it may not be to your liking."

One of the cutthroats pressed close and threw back its hood. Part of his face and one eye had been replaced with rudely fitted iron and glass. It smiled, wrinkling the scar tissue around the edges of the graft.

"He was wounded by one of the Dokutsu spawn," Ink Eyes said, "Such a wound deserves honor, so honor was given. Is this the healing you desire?"

"Soooooo no potions then?" Sashimibandit said.

"I'm into that." Lawlimi thrust up his stump. "A cybernetic hand would be super convenient right now."

More chittering. "Your enthusiasm for our ways is appreciated. We would be pleased to give you such a gift ... should you slay Dokutsu. That would be a true service to our people."

>>

[Slay Dokutsu — Celestial Quest Level 1]

The beast of the vault has threatened the ratfolk for countless generations. If you can kill it, rather than bypass it to collect the Herald's Kiss, they will consider you a friend of their people and be willing to grant nearly any request.

Reward — 9000 XP — A Nezumi Boon

>>

They accepted the quest and headed into darkness. The cutthroats reluctantly returned Damwise's medicine pouch and the torches after unbinding their hands. The route was less roundabout this time and they were soon ascending another stair that delivered them to yet another giant corridor hacked from the bedrock. Their guides were not coming with them.

"The vault is beyond the broken door," they said. "We will wait an hour, then assume you are dead."

Silva turned her back on the Therians, and the party continued down the hall without them. Sashimibandit was having difficulty keeping up.

>>

(Fatigue 2 — 20% penalty to mana regeneration. 15% penalty to maximum Spirit. 10% penalty to movement speed)

>>

Damwise started to hum an encouraging hymn, but Silva shushed him. "Some of the mobs down here are blind. Don't give them more to go by than we have to."

"I still want to free the prisoners," Lawlimi said.

"Mission comes first, then we deal with everything else. Now, you shut up, too.

They crept with relative stealth. Sashimibandit had the heaviest armor and the least energy, hanging on to his rogue talents by his fingernails, while Lawlimi had zero skill ranks and average dexterity. The pair walked slowly while Silva stalked like a forest predator and Damwise crept like a burglar to the termination of the passage. Trails of slime shimmered on the ceiling and the walls.

The vault door was a massive, wheel lock construct that would have stopped them cold if it hadn't been burst open and half off its hinges. There was a gap large enough to stroll beneath.

Silva stopped them all with hand gestures and motioned for Damwise to sneak a look. He held the torch out. Beyond the gap was a hangar lined with wreckage and mostly empty stasis units. A few dim lights flickered at the far end, surmounting an active unit with a fleshy-looking walnut held inside a cylinder that radiated gelid air. Frost coated the machine. The vault was crowded with bones and husks and a scuttling farm of roaches each as big as a hand. Some of the stasis machines still leaked coolant and mana, but most of them had been sucked dry. There were pipes and wires in the ceiling that had been ripped open and drained as well, a jungle of them surrounded the malignant tubular girth of Dokutsu. It had fed for years on the ambient power that the Maker had left behind, and now there was nothing left. Fronds tasted the air beneath it like the forked tongues of snakes, questing for sustenance. The roaches held no interest for it now; they could feed its spawn, or better yet, attract other prey. Many of the bones had the look of ratfolk.

>>

Dokutsu, Ship's Hunger — Cave Worm

Heroic Level 9 (75,328/75,328)

Nadir — Water — Brown

>>

Damwise made a choking sound and pulled back behind the vault door. He mouthed some words that none of them could figure out, and then whispered.

"Worm ... big ... ceiling."

Lawlimi motioned that he wanted to look, so they let him past, and he barely had his head through the opening when his Sixth Sense triggered, and he had to pull back as one of Dokutsu's delicate fronds waved by. He moved away from the vault door, and the others followed so they could share a hushed conversation.

"I've got an idea." Lawlimi produced a chunk of Drissil cake and mimed throwing it into the room.

"The fuck?" Silva asked.

"You want to feed it?" Sashimibandit was leaning against the wall until he saw slime and jerked away, grimacing from the still fresh stab wound in his back.

"Analyze the cake," Lawlimi told them.

"Unwanted psychological issues?" Damwise read aloud.

"You fed us this shit?" Sashimibandit gagged.

"We only had little bites, and I've had the most and I'm fine. But if we give Dokutsu everything I've got, maybe it will do something."

"You want to get the boss mob high?" Silva said. "Well, I'm really the only one who's going to be fighting in there, so I'll take any advantage I can get."

"If it works," Damwise said, "maybe we can pilfer the Kiss without having to fight the beast."

"Oh no," Silva said, rolling her shoulders. "I want that boon. There's a power sword in that rat's nest with my name on it."

"It's very big ..." Damwise trailed off.

"So’s my dick."

They all stared at Silva, who reddened. "I don't really have a penis. Shut up. It's a saying."

"Is it?" Sashimibandit was reconsidering all the things he had said and thought about Silva's body. Male players with female avatars were common.

"We're killing this thing, is what I'm saying. So, give up all the fungus you've got, and I'll toss it into the room."

"That's not all you have," I told Lawlimi, and he nodded. One by one he produced the vials he had stolen from Mona's lab on the way out of Fallow, as well as a syringe of the painkiller from the Mechano Factory. Most of the vials were Mortal ingredients, but none of them were healthy to ingest in quantity. He lined up all the Drissil he had and decanted the alchemical drinks into the spongy cakes one by one. He had given everything he had but the Golden Raspberry he was saving for a potential pet. It was still a minor offering compared with the behemoth they were about to face.

"Okay," Silva said, "let me warm up my murdering arm."