Scene: Mid-Hunt on Dykuma

Dykuma’s vast salt flats stretched endlessly, shimmering under the relentless glare of Umbra, the lone supermassive star that dominated the sky. Unlike the soothing warmth of smaller stars, Umbra’s intense radiation scorched the land, turning once-lush terrain into an arid wasteland. The air rippled with heatwaves, distorting the distant horizon where jagged cliffs loomed like the spines of ancient beasts.

Brennan “Rook” Velez crouched near one of those cliffs, his mechanical arm whirring with the sound of shifting gears and clock work mechanics, effortlessly gripping a crumbling outcrop for balance. He pulled a water canteen from his side, its metal casing etched with faint runes—an artifact of a forgotten age.

“This star doesn’t just bake the land, Cash,” he muttered, squinting against the glare. “It bakes anything dumb enough to stay out here too long. Including me.”

Cash scuttled nearby, their crystalline body shimmering faintly as they absorbed the heat without complaint. Their form elongated, stretching into a more aerodynamic shape as they leapt from one sun-scorched rock to the next.

Danger! The Sprite blinked the pattern. They had been together a while now, and they had found a way of communicating like this. Subtle messages passed through blinking forms. The beast was close.

The beast wasn’t the prize, but it was a barrier. According to the fragments of lore Brennan had pieced together, the caves held remnants of a civilization older than the Exodus itself. They were said to guard knowledge of black iron—its origins, perhaps even its secrets.

Brennan’s cane tapped rhythmically as he rose, his frame casting a long shadow across the cracked ground. The ruins he sought were too significant to be left in obscurity, but he’d made sure whispers of his intentions had reached all the right ears. His rival would hear of it, no doubt, and be drawn like a moth to Umbra’s unforgiving light.

“Let them come,” he said, more to himself than to Cash. “This isn’t just about knowledge—it’s about legacy. And mine doesn’t end in the shadow of someone else’s triumph.”

Cash flitted ahead, a faint glow of encouragement radiating from there crystalline wings. Brennan adjusted the grip on his map case, the weight of his mechanical arm a reassuring presence.

From deeper within the salt flats came a guttural roar, reverberating like the clash of iron against iron. The beast was restless, its territory encroached upon by an unrelenting interloper. Brennan smirked.

“If it’s guarding something that loud,” he said, his tone sharp with anticipation, “then I’m definitely in the right place.”

He began his approach, not as a hunter stalking prey, but as a scholar reclaiming what should never have been lost. His purpose burned brighter than the star above, and no beast—or rival—would stand in his way.

Gather Information

Miss: 4 + 2 (wits) = 6 vs 6, 10.

Scene: A Flawed Approach

Brennan’s smirk faltered as he crouched behind a jagged outcrop of salt-crusted stone, scanning the shimmering flats for any sign of the beast. The information he’d gathered in Aurora—a dubious mix of secondhand accounts and tavern boasts—wasn’t painting a clear picture.

“A predator, big as a skiff,” one grizzled trader had muttered, leaning in close over his drink. “Fangs like harpoons, fast as lightning.”

Another, more poetic soul, claimed, “It’s not just a beast; it’s the desert itself. Silent as death, striking from the mirage.”

The accounts had been inconsistent at best, but Brennan figured he could piece together a clearer understanding once he hit the trail. Now, though, as the roar faded into the oppressive silence of Dykuma’s scorched expanse, he realized how little he actually knew.

Cash hovered beside him, their form shifting into a low-slung, scurrying shape better suited for the uneven terrain.

They Flashed again... "Plan"

Brennan gave her a sharp glance. “I've got one” he lied.

“I know it’s big,” Brennan retorted, his voice low. “And I know it’s dangerous. That’s enough for now.”

But it wasn’t. The scattered signs of the creature’s passage—deep claw marks on the salt flats, strange circular patterns burned into the ground—told a fragmented story. He couldn’t predict its movement, its tactics, or even if it was still in the area. Worse, the beast’s roar echoed oddly in this landscape, making it impossible to pinpoint its location.

He stood and adjusted his cane, trying to maintain an air of confidence despite the gnawing uncertainty. “Doesn’t matter. I’m adaptable.”

Cash clicked their crystalline claws against the rock, their tone skeptical. Adaptable doesn’t mean invincible.

A sudden gust of hot wind surged through the canyon, carrying with it a low, rumbling growl that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Brennan froze, instinctively tightening his grip on his cane.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice edged with a nervous chuckle. “We’re definitely not alone.”

From the shimmering heat-haze ahead, the ground seemed to ripple unnaturally, the mirage twisting into something more solid. Shadows coalesced, forming an immense silhouette with jagged edges and a predatory grace.

“Well,” Brennan said under his breath, “that’s not ominous at all.”

Cash skittered closer, their glow dimming as they prepared to vanish into the terrain. Again they flashed... Plan...

Brennan smirked despite himself. “I'm winging it. It’s tradition.”

But as the beast’s form grew sharper, its eyes glinting like molten iron, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tradition might get him killed this time.

(I rolled on the oracle and it gave me a large car sized beast with an elongated neck and an energy breath.)

The beast emerged fully from the shimmering heat of the salt flats, and Brennan felt his smirk falter for real this time.

It was enormous, nearly the size of an old-world land cruiser, with a hulking, muscular body covered in an uneven armor of cracked, obsidian-black scales. The beast’s elongated neck swayed as it moved, almost serpentine, with powerful, sinewy muscles rippling beneath its hide.

Its head was blunt and wedge-shaped, with ridges that glowed faintly, pulsing in time with its heavy, deliberate breaths. A crest of jagged spines ran from the top of its skull down the length of its neck, their edges glinting like razor-sharp glass.

Its eyes were the most unsettling feature—twin orbs of molten gold that seemed to burn with their own light, tracking every movement with an intelligence that made Brennan’s chest tighten.

It moved on four massive limbs, each ending in claws as long and curved as a shipwright’s scythe. The beast’s tail lashed behind it, leaving deep gouges in the salt flats as it walked.

When it opened its mouth, Brennan caught a glimpse of jagged teeth glowing faintly from within, like embers in a forge. But what really caught his attention was the glow at the back of its throat—a swirling, chaotic energy that hummed with barely restrained power.

As it exhaled, the air around its mouth shimmered unnaturally, and the salt on the ground beneath its feet hissed and evaporated. Whatever energy this thing wielded, it wasn’t just for show.

Cash clung tightly to Brennan’s shoulder now, their crystalline form barely visible.

Brennan tightened his grip on his cane, his mind racing.

The beast let out a low, rumbling growl, its elongated neck arching toward him like a coiled spring ready to strike.

Gather Information

Miss: 3 + 2 (wits) = 5 vs 10, 8.

(doing good so far)

The terrain appears deceptively featureless—rolling dunes of salt flats broken by jagged ridges of mineral deposits. Brennan might have been hoping for something strategic—a narrow canyon or even a patch of quicksand—but all he gets is a shimmering wasteland. His instincts whisper that there’s something off about the land, but he can't pinpoint what it is in time.

(So I’m thinking Brennan is going to try to lure the beast out of the cave and away… hoping it will follow him. While cash goes inside. He got a strong hit on his face danger roll and the oracle said there would be a hole or soft spot in the ground)

Brennan crouched low, just out of sight of the beast’s cave, his mechanical arm digging into the ground to steady him. The salt-laden air stung his nostrils, and the shimmering heat made the horizon ripple. Cash hovered beside him, its crystalline form rotating slowly, shifting into a sleek, aerodynamic shape as it prepared for the signal.

“You’re the stealthy one,” Brennan murmured, sliding his rapier back into its scabbard. “Go find out what’s in there while I keep our new friend busy.” Cash gave a soft chime of acknowledgment, darting toward the dark mouth of the cave with barely a whisper of movement.

The Lure

Brennan stood, dusted off his coat, and started pacing toward the cave. He raised his voice, letting his tone carry that familiar swagger. “Oi, you overgrown lizard! I hope you’re ready to have that fancy energy breath put to the test, because I’m about to give you a reason to use it!” He swung his cane theatrically, the silver-etched hilt catching the light.

The ground beneath him trembled, a deep rumble resonating through the salt flats as the creature stirred. A guttural snarl echoed from the cave, followed by the scrape of claws against stone. Brennan took a few steps back, deliberately placing his boots on solid ground, keeping his movements measured but deliberate.

The beast emerged, its elongated neck stretching out as its jagged, armored scales glinted in the light of the oversized star. Its glowing eyes locked onto Brennan, and its energy breath began to build—a faint hum accompanied by a shimmer of heat at the back of its throat.

The Chase

“Come on, then,” Brennan called, spinning on his heel and sprinting toward the salt flats. His cane tapped against the ground with rhythmic precision as he ran, his mechanical arm swinging for balance. The beast roared and followed, its massive claws tearing through the brittle ground as it gave chase.

Brennan's instincts kicked in, guiding him toward a subtle change in the terrain—a patch of ground that looked slightly discolored, almost too smooth. The soft spot. He felt the telltale give beneath his feet just as he leapt to the side, landing in a crouch on firmer ground.

The beast wasn’t so lucky. Its massive bulk crashed onto the unstable patch, and the ground collapsed beneath it with a deafening crack. The creature roared in fury as it struggled to regain its footing, clawing at the edges of the pit now forming beneath it.

Brennan stood at the edge, catching his breath and adjusting his coat. “Well, that’s one way to make an impression,” he muttered, watching as the beast snarled up at him.

Meanwhile, inside the cave, Cash flitted silently through the dark, its crystalline form reflecting faint traces of light from deeper within.

The interior of the cave stood in stark contrast to the desolation outside. Its walls shimmered faintly, inscribed with ancient sigils that pulsed as if alive. Dust covered the floor, undisturbed for countless years, but the air was thick with a hum of energy—a presence that made even Cash hesitate.

The sprite flicked its crystalline wings, light refracting like fractured glass, and scurried toward the inner chamber. A low, protective field of blue energy flickered across the entrance to the reliquary, a defense left behind by the long-dead architects of this place.

Within the chamber stood the relic: a smooth, oblong stone set into a cradle of black iron, its surface etched with the same sigils that adorned the walls. The language was lost, but the power was palpable.

---

The cool air of the cave clung to Brennan like a veil, heavy with the dust of centuries and the echoes of forgotten rituals. Shadows danced along the jagged walls, their shapes reminiscent of figures mid-prayer or mid-scream—he wasn’t quite sure which.

“Cash,” Brennan whispered, a low murmur that carried far in the silent hollow.

The sprite responded in a shimmer of motion. From the dark recesses, its crystalline form emerged like a shard of starlight given life. Delicate wings, ever-shifting between ethereal and tangible, hummed softly as it hovered before him. The glow refracted across the cavern, turning the dull stone into a mosaic of fractured rainbows. Cash’s form shifted again, its sharp angles folding into a sleek, ground-crawling shape, low and quick, to better navigate the tight, treacherous terrain ahead.

“Show me,” Brennan muttered, adjusting his grip on his cane. “And stay unseen. I’m not keen on finding out what kind of welcome committee guards this place.”

Cash responded with a faint pulse of light, a signal they had shared countless times—a flash of trust and understanding. It scurried into the darkness, its crystalline claws tapping faintly as it navigated unseen hazards. It could squeeze through gaps Brennan wouldn’t dare attempt, perceive traps woven from ancient tech or primitive instinct, and sniff out energy signatures no human eye could detect.

He followed carefully, each step measured. His boots pressed into the smooth, worn floor as symbols etched into the stone caught his eye. Curving lines, intricate spirals—a language? A map? Perhaps a story. He traced a hand along one with reverence he rarely granted anything.

An ancient reliquary…

The Archivists wanted the artifact within, but Brennan sought more than trinkets. Who built this place? What had they sworn upon? The Forge was littered with the bones of forgotten civilizations—some broken by war, others by arrogance. This place felt different. Sacred. Purposeful. He could feel the weight of iron vows in the very air.

Cash darted back suddenly, its form flickering into a defensive, spiked coil. It hovered before Brennan, its glow urgent.

“Trouble?” He tightened his grip on his rapier, eyes scanning the gloom.

The sprite’s glow dimmed, then pulsed twice—a signal for “presence” and “unknown.”

“Perfect,” he muttered, stepping further in. “Let’s meet the neighbors.”

---

The cavern walls began to pulse with the eerie glow of the ancient writing as Brennan and Cash stepped into the heart of the cave.

The flickering glyphs, a radiant blue, shifted as if alive. Their curling lines and sharp symbols twisted into patterns too complex for the human eye to follow. Cash moved ahead, its crystalline form refracting the light into a dazzling display of colors. It hovered for a moment, blinking rapidly—a warning or perhaps simply awe. Brennan’s eyes, trained from years of scouring lost ruins, drank in the scene. He could feel the weight of the place pressing into his bones.

In the center of the chamber, raised on a dais of smooth, dark stone, rested the artifact they had come for.

It was unmistakably black iron, its surface rippling like liquid, yet solid as ancient stone. It bore the unmistakable sheen of the living metal, the kind used in ancient vows and tied to half-remembered myths of the Iron Gates and the precursors who built them. The object’s shape was strange—not quite a key, though its jagged edges suggested a purpose as a tool or conduit. It hummed with a low, dying resonance, as if waiting to be awakened.

Brennan’s breath caught. “That’s it.” His mechanical hand clenched his cane.

A movement in the shadows stirred his senses.

From the far side of the chamber, a figure emerged, its silhouette wreathed in shadow and flowing robes. The acolyte’s features were masked beneath a veil of thin, translucent material that obscured all but the faint glow of eyes—eyes that burned like embers. The acolyte’s hands, thin and sharp, rested lightly on a staff of the same black iron, intricate carvings spiraling its length.

A voice, hollow and calm, echoed through the chamber.

“You come seeking knowledge. But the gate is locked. The path forgotten.”

Brennan tilted his head, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Funny. Locked gates don’t usually get in my way.”

The acolyte’s eyes narrowed. “The artifact is a key. But its power is spent. The Iron Gates require fuel to open—a solution that no scavenger or thief can simply take. It must be acquired through sacrifice, or forged in a way beyond your grasp.”

The acolyte took a step forward, the glyphs on the walls shifting in response.

“You do not leave here with it unless you solve what is broken.”

Cash blinked rapidly at Brennan, its lights flickering into a complex pattern of curiosity and urgency.

“I’m thinking,” Brennan muttered.

The acolyte’s calm voice grew colder. “Time is not your ally. The Forge is hungry.”