- - - - -

Race: Saurian

Bloodline Powers: Improved Strength, Rending, Firebreath

Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 4, Wind (Noble) 3, Sound (Advanced) 2

Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4

- - - - -

“Do you think our next evolution will be able to sweat?” Dussok asked, pressing a metal hook into a hole he had carefully driven into the valley wall over the last twenty minutes. “This is absolutely intolerable. After spending so long mastering the mystery of heat, I never thought I would be at risk of heat stroke, yet here I am, half buried in some pit and cursing our current race’s poor temperature regulation.”

“Just modify your heat levels,” Sam replied, willing the floating sphere of crackling fire that the three of them were using as a light source closer to the laboring saurian. “You’re a practitioner. It’s almost embarrassing for you to suffer under the effects of one of your own mysteries.”

“I am a practitioner,” Dussok grunted back, eyes focused on the metal hook. A second later it began to glow a dim red. His muscles flexed and Dussok forced it the last finger span into the hole. He shifted his grip slightly, wiggling the hook a little until was fully in the gap and unable to move any further. Finally, he turned around and jumped off of the pile of boulders he was using as a step stool and walked over to the river that cut through the center of the valley and dropped to one knee, taking a double handful of water and splashing his scaly face.

Slightly refreshed, he stood up and continued his conversation with Samazzar.

“But being a practitioner doesn’t mean that I have an infinite ability to focus. In order to plant the hooks firmly in the walls, I have to use the mysteries of heat and metal simultaneously. That doesn’t leave much concentration left for my body.”

“But it’s exhilarating,” Sam responded, a mad glint in his eyes, “isn’t it? Pushing your body and mind as far as possible just to see how far they can go before they snap. Every time you reach your limits, you find out that you can go just a bit further. Then, the next time you find yourself struggling, your limit is a little bit further. It just makes you wonder how far you can go if you keep at it for long enough.”

“Once again I am reminded that your brain has been slightly cooked by the amount of magic you have run through it,” Dussok said matter of factly before grasping hold of one of the thin, finely crafted metal chains that hung from the hooks in the wall. It jangled slightly as he picked it up and yanked on it once.

“Pull your cable taut Takkla,” Dussok called out. A second later the chain picked itself up from where it had been laying draped across the valley floor and riverbed. The saurian measured it out, pulling on metal links until they couldn’t move anymore.

Samazzar reached down, pressing the chain with his thumb and then releasing it. The metal bounced back up, thrumming gently.

“The chain is tight.” Sam shouted into the darkness. “Tie it off on both ends and then we can handle the other three.”

On the other side of the river, he felt the heat signature that was Takkla give him a thumbs up before scrambling to her wall of the canyon and begin the process of threading the chain through itself Once Dussok was done on Sam’s side of the gorge, they moved on to the next ring, about two paces above the first. The gentle clank of metal on metal was audible in the stream as the smaller barbed cables that criss-crossed between the major supports shifted into position.

Sam set down his pack, and slipped on a pair of gloves made from sheepskin before pulling out a ceramic urn of paralytic poison. Then, as Takkla and Dussok began the preparatory work for the third chain, he waded into the stream. It wasn’t terribly deep, maybe only waist high, but the chilly water ran swiftly so he was forced to watch his step.

One by one he began to coat the thumb length spikes of metal sticking out from the cables with the poison. Periodically, Samazzar would have to touch the mystery of heat in order to warm his freezing legs and chest, but over the course of a half hour, the three of them working together finished setting up the metal net and reconvened on the side of the valley they had climbed down from.

Dussok plopped himself against the wall, chest heaving while Takkla rubbed his tense shoulders. Even Samazzar, usually a bundle of excitement and cheer, was worn out behind belief. Maintaining two balls of fire for his siblings while he kept himself warm and fought the stream’s current was incredibly taxing. Considering the effort in finding narrow spots in the canyon and installing all three of the chain nets, it was no wonder that he was spent.

Instead of resting, he walked over to the stream, planting a fist into the stone and dropping down to one knee so that he could cup water to his muzzle with his free hand. Once Sam was sated, he walked over to Takkla and Dussok and slumped next to them.

After what felt like forever, Takkla spoke up.

“So, we’re done here, right little dragon? We managed to make it to the mine because you lied to some bureaucrats, dropped off the food, found those crystals your master needed, and then set up a whole bunch of absurdly heavy traps for some reason.”

“Cliff drakes,” Samazzar replied. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen their claw marks and stool everywhere down here. They hunt a lot of the monsters that only exist in darkness down here. So far the light and scent of fire has kept the scavengers away, but it would be better if we didn’t test that prospect too much. As for the cliff drakes, they’re big lizards. Not as big or scary as wyverns or cloud drakes, but they’re at least the size of a horse. One or two of them should be enough for all three of us to complete another full evolution.”

“And the nets are… traps?” Takkla asked, motioning generally at the walls of velvet surrounding their small sphere of firelight. “I thought we were going to be doing a lot of traveling. It’s not like we’ll have a chance to check them frequently.”

“The net wouldn’t stop a drake on its own anyway,” Sam responded with a shrug. “It might break one of their wings, but there’s nothing to stop them from crawling to shore and escaping. The point is to catch them swooping toward the water to catch a fish and stop them at such speed that the barbs can break through their scales. I can’t guarantee that the poison I used will keep them unconscious for more than a week, but it can certainly handle a couple of days. More than enough time for us to make a run to the magma vents and back.”

Dussok stood up, a barely audible groan ripped from his throat as his aching muscles stretched tight. Sam didn’t make a comment despite hearing the noise with his access to the mystery of sound. There was a reason he didn’t sit down. His body was already expressing its displeasure at him from the tedious but strenuous work of applying poison while wading through the river. If he were standing up next to Dussok, there was a zero percent chance that he would be any more dignified than his sibling.

“And now we must climb,” Dussok said with a groan, glaring into the darkness in the general direction of the harnesses and access ladder that they had used to make their way down from the mine.”

“Unfortunately,” Samazzar replied, sending one of his floating balls of fire ahead to clear the way. In the distance he heard a pair of reptilian scavengers pad quietly along the walls as they tried to escape the light of his magic. Both of them were about the size of a dog, and members of their species had been tailing the saurians off and on throughout the valley’s depths.

Ordinary warriors wouldn’t have been able to detect them, but between heat and sound, the creature’s camouflage was borderline useless. Samazzar hadn’t seen any signs that they were developing enough courage to lead an attack, but by the same token, he didn’t want to try his luck any further.

“Up up up,” he motioned with his hands, quick flicking jerks, as he tried to shoo Takkla into action. “The sooner we start the climb, the sooner we’ll be on the prairie. I know we fooled the people besieging Vereton by claiming that we were heading for the forest, but they’ll figure it out eventually. The quicker we can dash through the open and get to the magma vents where they don’t have the alchemical equipment to follow us, the better.”

She looked disgruntled for a moment before relenting. Sam couldn’t really blame her. The climb wouldn’t be as bad as last time, what with his bones being in one piece and in the right place, but Whistling Gorge was deep. He didn’t have any idea as to how many years of water runoff it took to cut the deep gash through the prairie, but it was almost impossible to fathom how nothing but water had carved the stark, vertical rock walls of the valley.

Before too long they were climbing again. Samazzar kept tabs on their surroundings. Barely anything approached within a half league, but a ball of flame floating toward an animal was all it would take to drive them away. All of the creatures in the gorge were adapted to the almost total darkness of the caves and riverbed. Anything more than the sliver of light filtering down from above was enough to startle and alarm them, buying the three saurians more than enough time to finish their grueling ascent.

They paused halfway up, resting their arms in the mine. Almost none of the animals that dwelt at the bottom of the gorge would make it up here. There simply wasn’t a purpose for the creatures to waste the energy on the difficult climb when their water, food and bedding was all at the bottom near the river itself.

After an hour or so of relaxation and a quick meal, they slipped their harnesses on a second time and resumed their climb. By the time the three of them got to the top and buried their safety gear, they were heaving for breath, and the sun was beginning to drop in the sky

Samazzar spread out his senses, using the mysteries of wind and sound to search for leagues in every direction as the three of them hurried north. He found a number of deer, rabbits and coyotes, but only once did their group need to stop and dive beneath the tall grass because humans were in sight.

It wasn’t much of a threat, only a man and a women in light leathers and holding bows. Sam didn’t even know if they were from the bandit group or if they were from some independent tribe that was trying to survive in the wastelands outside of Vereton. That said, he wasn’t going to risk it. If they were scouts, killing them would raise questions. No, the better approach was to stay put, letting the rest of the team have a quick nap while he kept track of the archers.

Once the humans left, there wasn’t that much to slow the three of them until they reached the border of the magma vents. There, they camped for a day, resting after pushing themselves so hard. They would have limited time on the vents given the necessity of using chemicals and oils to filter out the noxious fumes, so it only made sense for them to be fully rested before venturing out into the dark basalt wasteland.

When they finally set out at first light, there was a spring in Samazzar’s step. As dangerous as the magma vents were, they were strangely freeing. There wasn’t any drama or dilemma about an enemy invasion. He didn’t need to worry about trusting the wrong person or responding with too much or too little enthusiasm to what seemed like an innocent question.

It was like the caves all over again. He was here to hunt monsters, gather treasure, and the only law was that of power. Those who could, did. Those who couldn’t, hid.

He was a dragon, and although he didn’t have the power yet to defeat all of the monsters he might encounter in the lava pools around the vents, that didn’t mean that he needed to be afraid. Combined, the three of them were stronger than most of the monsters they were likely to run into around the outskirts, and even if they weren’t, he would be able to spot something truly dangerous long before it could slip into range.

Most importantly, he could feel his knowledge of the mystery of fire teetering at its apex. When he tried to understand more about the mystery, it was like pouring water on a soaked sponge. There wasn’t any room for him to absorb the teachings.

Even stepping foot near the molten rock sent a thrill of energy down his spine. Sam was ready for a baptism. As soon as he found the right way to inundate his body with the energy of fire, he would be able to take his next step toward mastery, and not a moment too soon. Although he could control and expand existing fire at the senior student level, as an acolyte he'd be able to mold the very form of his mystery.

That meant explosions amongst other things, a sudden blast of fire that consumed gaseous fuel and expanded fast enough that it generated wind of its own for him to use. He was practically salivating at the concept, and the steady build in tensions made a sudden increase in firepower a necessity.

Frankly, the reward for the flame garnets wasn’t really the main selling point for coming to the magma vents. Sure, artificers could use the stones to make explosive or flaming projectiles, something that would likely help the city’s defenders, but more than anything the draw of the dark, poisonous wasteland was the lava and raw fire essence.

Every step along the path to fully learning a mystery became progressively more dangerous. Many practitioners would stall out, too afraid to risk their lives for another breakthrough, but that was simply an alien thought to Samazzar. It took everything he had in him to wait long enough to craft the alchemical supplements he would need to maximize his chances at surviving the baptism.

More than anything, from the very second he realized he was ready for a baptism, Sam wanted nothing more than to find a way to reforge himself in the fire. He was practically vibrating with excitement while he sourced the last of the salts, oils, and rare minerals that he would need to create the potions of healing and dampening that he had prepared specifically for this journey.

And here he was. Safely away from the prying eyes in Vereton and the predation of the mysterious besieging forces. The three of them still needed to collect some flame garnets in order to justify their expedition in the eyes of the Academy, but that wouldn’t be terribly hard. The stones weren’t common, but it wasn’t like anyone else was making the trip out to the magma vents to harvest them.

After five or so minutes of delving into the dark wasteland of the vents, Samazzar raised a hand to stop their progress. Silently, he closed his eyes, activating his magical senses one by one. Heat and fire were barely useful. Everything was hot, and there was barely anything to burn. If he concentrated long enough, Sam might be able to map some of the magma caves beneath his feet, but that wasn’t a terribly interesting use of his time.

Instead he focused on wind and sound, letting the air map the rocky wastes around him and listening intently for any faint or distant sounds that might give him hints as to where the various lava pools might be hidden. Sam counted silently to five, letting himself sink deeper and deeper into the magic with each successive tick.

His eyes opened, almost on their own. Takkla and Dussok were looking at him expectantly, and no words were needed. Samazzar motioned to the northeast, charting a course for a fairly large basin in the craggy basalt.

Their walk was uneventful, Samazzar’s snout wrinkling at the chemical smell of the rags he used to ward off the noxious fumes. Other than the whistle of the wind and the burble of gas bubbles popping in the lava puddles, there wasn’t any real sound. Most of the creatures that lived in the barren landscape of the magma vents were much deeper in. Here, it was almost as lifeless as a rocky cliff-face. Occasionally he spotted one or two of the peculiar stone trees he’d noted in the past, but none of the groves or forests that he had seen deeper in the wasteland.

Finally, the three saurians arrived at their destination. Just as Sam predicted, the dip in the rocks signaled an entire lake of lava, gently burbling next to a small collection of obsidian trees. Other than a handful of small reptiles that flitted from branch to branch, there wasn’t much life, but that wasn’t his goal.

Instead, with one eye hungrily eyeing the glowing lake of fire, Samazzar reached out with his senses. Ironically, even though the deeper portions of the vents might have richer concentrations of heat and fire energy, it was easier and safer to collect lower grade materials such as the flame garnets. Sam had learned the hard way that some truly ancient and foreboding powers dwelt further into the basalt wastes. Some of those creatures actively hoarded and collected items of power like a dragon. Others were simply territorial, keen on turning a lost saurian seeking his fortune into a snack.

Here, it was just a matter of locating patches that were unexpectedly warm or where wind and sound were behaving in a strange manner. Samazzar was unlikely to find anything truly rare or powerful but-

He paused. There. One of the channels that fed the lake stretched deep underground. Some twenty five paces under the surface there was a side chamber that glowed white hot, almost blindingly so. There wasn’t any way to verify exactly what was in the cave, but there was little doubt in his mind that there was some item of power hidden away beneath the surface.

“I think I found something.” Sam’s voice was muffled by the muzzle of treated cloth as he began to strip off his clothing, folding up the cheap linens and handing them to Dussok as he went. “It’s fairly deep under the lava so I can’t tell for sure, but-”

“Is that why you’re stripping naked?” Takkla asked, the scales around her eyes scrunching. “I have to say, I haven’t gone completely soft due to city living, but I would at least appreciate a loin cloth of some sort. You aren’t a pup anymore little dragon, this is all a bit unsettling.”

He threw his pants at her before downing a potion of regeneration. The liquid had been expensive to create, especially with the supply shortage in Vereton, but given the dangers of leaving the city, Sam had considered it an essential creation. Now, he thanked his past self as he smacked his lips to try and clear the greasy egg yolk taste from them before he replied.

“I’m planning on submerging myself in the lava and swimming my way down to a hidden cave filled with magma. Any clothing will simply burn off by the time I finish. I figured a half hour in the nude was better than having to fashion some breeches from buckskin or weave myself a straw skirt on the walk home.”

“Couldn’t you just cool your surroundings?” Dussok questioned, a note of distaste to his voice as he collected Samazzar’s discarded clothing. “After all, that’s what all three of us are doing right now. This entire place is completely inhospitable without heat magic or some powerful alchemy, I don’t really see why you couldn’t just keep that active.”

“Because I’m going deep,” Sam answered, digging through his satchel to find a lozenge before turning the leather bag over to Dussok. “Temperature regulation to a safe level would flash cool the magma around me, encasing me in solid rock. I’ll have to aim the cooling directly at the core to prevent myself from overheating, but I’m afraid that my scales are going to need to get a little singed if I’m going to make any progress.”

Samazzar paused, cocking his head for a second as he thought of something.

“Of course,” he continued. “That probably isn’t the case. If the magma cools too quickly, I doubt that it will harden into one contiguous rock. In all likelihood it would shatter as it chilled, lacerating me quite badly.”

Dussok rolled his eyes, accepting the leather satchel. When he responded, he didn’t even try to fight. Instead his voice was resigned.

“As long as you’ve made preparations little dragon. Exposing that much bare skin to white hot rock will be insanely painful. I hope you’re fully ready for this little mistake you insist on making.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t trying to stop me,” Sam said, taking a deep breath before removing the mass of air filters that he had packed tight around his muzzle and creating a bubble of breathable hair around his head with the mystery of oxygen. “Normally when I try something this reckless you’re the first to come at me with a list of twenty reasons why it won’t work.”

Dussok shrugged in reply.

“I’ve learned better, little dragon. When a foolish idea lodges itself in your head, nothing will get it out. I’m not going to be able to stop you. The best I can do is ensure that you have taken proper precautions before you throw yourself to the wolves.”