Monday 24th January 2011
I squared off against my opponent -- a massive golem, at least three metres tall, with molten gold flowing under its skin. My creation raced towards me with terrifying speed, a fist larger than my torso raised to destroy me. This was a fight to the death.
I--
Wait, let me back up a bit.
When midnight struck, I got my Scheme -- Nature Demands an Offering. It said to pick an opponent, and they would pick an artefact, creature, enchantment, and land, which would all be sacrificed. Nice, I supposed, if I was in active conflict with someone and not engaged in a one-sided cold war. Also, 'sacrifice' meant 'killed', and I didn't want to murder anyone if I could help it, even by proxy. I chose not to set my dastardly scheme in motion.
My regular card was a lot more promising -- Golden Guardian. For four mana (well, three thanks to Artificer), I could summon a 4/4 golem with Defender. Ideal for protecting my Bootlegger tunnels. It wasn't a land, but! For two mana I could tell it to fight one of my creatures, and if it died, it would be transformed into a land: 'Gold-Forge Garrison' which could be tapped for two mana of any colour, or it could be fed four mana and be tapped to produce a 4/4 golem that didn't have Defender.
I was a big fan of ramping up my mana; at this rate, in a month my daily mana income would be just silly.
Because the Golden Guardian wasn't a land, I could play my island today as well, even if I transformed the golem, getting around the one-land-per-day limit. Something to think about, anyway, when I could pull my thoughts from all my new-found Artificer knowledge. Seriously, even looking at the empty Potion of Healing bottle, or a Biro on my desk triggered all sorts of thoughts and ideas. It was distracting.
Oh, and once again I felt that internal need to identify what I wanted. To express my desire. To define the coming week's selected daily cards. This time it was easy.
I said, "I want the Empire to be destroyed, please." There was no harm in being polite. Plus I wanted Queen Administrator to keep liking me; we were already up to happiness six -- I'm pretty sure she like me capturing Hookwolf. The benefit was simple -- I could now change the size of my 'battlefield', initially a small amount, but more if I practised the skill. I committed to doing just that in my idle moments.
I didn't know what to expect from tomorrow's card. I'd lost Yuriko, so maybe Queen Administrator would give me another friend whom I could send on a suicide--
I didn't want to send any more friends out to die. Maybe my Power would give me a golem or a robot or something, and I wouldn't mind so much. Or someone I didn't like, and I'd be happy to send them into a fight. Or maybe it'd give me a weapon, encouraging me to stop hiding behind other people and go out and do something myself. Standing by the sidelines was hard.
"There's a lot to cover, so thank you all for being so prompt," said Rebecca Costa-Brown over the line. "We'll start with ENE."
Emily Piggot blinked. The meeting of all PRT directors was a tedious chore that was held every month where topics that might cross district boundaries were brought up. PRT-ENE was about low as it was possible to get on the PRT totem pole, so getting asked to present first was unusual.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Emily, "I have a few topics of interest. Firstly, we have a Birdcage transport. Hookwolf was captured last night by a new independent called, 'Walker'. We haven't worked out the details yet, and we'll probably try to keep the number of people informed to a minimum, but we will be passing a convoy through several territories with very little notice at some point next week."
"Of course," said Director Tagg, "If we can help, please let us know."
"Thank you," said Emily.
"What do we know about Walker?" ask Costa-Brown.
"Not much," said Emily, "She keeps her cards close to her chest. She's young -- probably a teenager, Watchdog say probably fifteen to seventeen. Smart. Idealistic. Very angry, somewhat bitter. Careless with her strength. Does not trust the PRT in the slightest. Miss Militia has spent the most time with her out of all my staff, and she has the impression that Walker intends to clean up every gang in the Bay, and that would include the PRT if we got in her way."
People on the call laughed. Emily wasn't laughing, and neither had been Miss Militia.
"Otherwise, she's strong and getting stronger. Seems to come up with new powers and abilities every time we've interacted with her. Hookwolf couldn't scratch her. Her current, provisional, ratings are Brute 9, Mover 5, Master 6, Trump 9, based on her ability to summon other parahumans."
There was a low whistle from someone on the call.
"She may have Tinker support, she may have Thinker support. Based on what Aviator has told us, she could eventually summon someone to fill practically any role she feels she needs. Aviator also tells us that she's very unusual for a planeswalker; normally a brand new planeswalker would disappear into 'the blind eternities', not stick around after they've triggered. She's also growing far faster than he would expect, even allowing for her being 'unopposed'."
"'Unopposed'," asked Kamil, "What does he consider opposition, if the gangs in the Bay and the Protectorate don't count?"
"Other planeswalkers, or mass invasions from other planes," said Emily, "Apparently 'gods' can tread carefully around planeswalkers. He wasn't clear on what counted as a 'god', but acknowledged that Scion might qualify. The Endbringers don't. You can understand why I am recommending establishing a tight control over Walker, and preparing possible contingencies for when she lashes out."
"Denied," said Costa-Brown firmly, "We wish to work closely with Walker, and that requires trust. Trust I want your division to earn, Emily."
Emily winced. She knew an order when she heard one. "Yes, Ma'am." She took a breath. "That ties in with a couple of her 'summons'. Firstly, Aviator. He freely confesses to being Mastered by Walker, and will unhesitatingly follow any command she might give him. She summoned him and sent him to us as a test." Walker wasn't the only one who was a bit bitter. She'd have had the man imprisoned if he wasn't so useful. And if the Chief Director hadn't explicitly ordered her to not do that.
"How is Aviator working out? Is he a confirmed Tinker?"
"Yes, Ma'am," said Emily, "Aviator had made what he calls a 'Spotter thopter'. It's a flying drone with airtime measured in weeks in between recharges that can monitor a fair section of the city and feed visual back to Headquarters. It can be controlled manually, but if left to its own devices it will follow simple instructions and highlight incidents that it spots. It outperforms human-controlled drones by no small margin. It is also armed with blasters."
"Now that sounds interesting," said Director Simmons on the call, "I wouldn't mind having one of those for St Louis."
He was quickly followed by a number of voices asking for Spotter Thopters of their own, which were quickly silenced by Costa-Brown. "Enough. Aviator is clearly a valuable asset. I don't want him getting burned out just making a single tool. The Spotter Thopters will be useful, but encourage him to work on other projects as well, Emily. And see if he can switch that blaster to a confoam sprayer."
"Ma'am, as mentioned before, considering his absolute obedience to Walker, he represents a massive security risk to ENE. One that would be significantly reduced if he had a different posting. As I don't have the budget to support another Tinker, I would be happy to trade him--"
"No," said Costa-Brown, "Walker's trust is more important. Having one of her agents at the ENE Headquarters will build up her confidence in us over time. I'll authorise a budget increase for you to cover Aviator and his Tinkering, but once he is comfortable I expect his creations to be shared." She laughed drily, "I want a Spotter Thopter too."
Emily was temporarily dumbstruck. That was the first time Costa-Brown had authorised a budget increase for Brockton Bay in years. "Uh, yes, ma'am." Dammit. Aviator wasn't a bad person, but having someone who freely admitted having higher loyalties to someone else under her command rankled. "Dragon has expressed an interest in collaborating with him. It may be possible for her to work out a way for them to be mass produced."
"Good thought," said Costa-Brown, "Authorised."
"Thank you, Ma'am," said Emily, "Continuing with the topic, Walker is proposing to summon a 'Colossus' to aid Brockton Bay. She reports that it will be about 130 feet high, and made of iron and bronze. She wants to use it to remove a tanker that is currently blocking the Bay, and then act as a tourist attraction. She has consented to it being used in S-class emergencies if its presence is requested."
"130 feet? That's three Behemoths standing on each other's heads!" said Tagg.
"Yes," said Emily, "About the size of the Statue of Liberty, without the plinth. Which is why I am permitting the summon only under protest."
"Again," said Costa-Brown, "We need Walker's trust. Blocking her plans to improve the Bay will alienate her. We also want to encourage her to check with us before summoning anything problematic ... How dangerous will the colossus be?"
"Armsmaster has examined a golem that Walker had summoned previously and had assured him is of a similar nature. He is confident that the colossus will be precisely as dangerous as Walker wants it to be. Whether the public will come to agree with his assessment remains to be seen."
"I'll contact the Triumvirate," said Costa-Brown, "I'm sure one of them can make themselves available for the summoning. It might help calm some nerves."
And now Emily was being offered support from the Triumvirate! What information was Costa-Brown acting on to give Walker so much leeway? There had been a dozen times when Emily had asked for Triumvirate support and she had been denied every time. "Uh, thank you, Ma'am, I think that would be very helpful."
"Anything else, Emily?" asked Costa-Brown.
"Shadow Stalker, the ENE Probationary Ward is having her wardship revoked. Questions raised about her behaviour while in her civilian persona triggered an investigation. She was placed under observation and found to be conducting unauthorised patrols with lethal equipment. She's out."
"'Behaviour while in her civilian persona?'" asked Costa-Brown.
"Bullying, Ma'am," replied Emily, "Quite vicious bullying against one person in particular."
"Has the victim been contacted?" asked Costa-Brown, "Compensated?"
"That... that is not our normal policy, Ma'am, as it would expose the identity of a ward, violating the unwritten rules." And also cost a lot of money and open the PRT to some very expensive lawsuits. Why was the Chief Directory worrying about little details like this?
"Hmm, let's make an exception this once. Make sure that they sign NDAs, but I don't like that the Wards programme has failed like this. Come up with a generous compensation package. It can come out of the legal fund."
"Really, Rebecca?" asked Tagg.
"I feel very strongly about this," said Costa-Brown, "For a Ward, for anyone, to get away with a sustained bullying campaign at a high school is a failure that we should own up to. Make it right, Emily."
"Yes, Ma'am." Emily was now wondering just how many people on the call were thinking as she was, that the Chief Director might need Master / Stranger screening? This was completely out of character for the woman.
Monday meant school.
Monday also meant half-day, because I didn't do sports any more. I was getting used to half-schoolday Mondays, and I could whole-heartedly recommend them to anyone who didn't have the option of zero-schoolday Mondays.
Monday also meant 'Press Conference'.
Yeah, I had butterflies in my tummy over that one. Thankfully I didn't have much to say beyond, 'Hi,' and a few words about how grateful I was that everyone was working together to make this happen. There would be questions, but Ms Cooper, the mayor's Press Secretary had told me to give a little hand gesture if I was getting overwhelmed and she'd dive in to save me. Having that lifeline was a weight off my shoulders.
I peeked through the curtains at the assembled august representatives of the press. There wasn't a sea of reporters, and only two television cameras.
"I was worried that there would be more," I said quietly to Ms Cooper. I'd have preferred to speak with my dad, but we needed to pretend that we barely knew each other. He was studiously ignoring me, chatting quietly with the mayor.
"This isn't a presidential briefing, Walker," she said, "This is actually a pretty good turnout for us. We let our contacts know that we had a big announcement; if we hadn't there probably wouldn't have been any cameras at all."
"Good, good," I said, trying to keep the welling energy from transitioning to panic. I did not have a life of public speaking cut out for me. "When do we start? Can we start now? They're all here, right?"
"Relax, Walker. Maybe take a breath? We start in ten minutes, but we're still waiting for the Protectorate representative to show."
"The Protectorate?"
"They need to show that this is being done with their approval, Walker. Relax. Breathe. It's fine. You'll be fine."
Ms Cooper really was good at her job; by the time Miss Militia showed up and had joined us, I almost believed that there wasn't going to be any problems.
"Your first press conference, I take it, Walker?" said Miss Militia, "You'll do fine."
"Thanks, Miss Militia."
Ms Cooper stepped up to introduce the mayor. The mayor spent fifteen minutes telling the gathered press how much of a blight the tanker had been on Brockton Bay. I forced myself to listen to him talk; boredom turned out to be a wonderful counter to nerves.
After the mayor, Dad got up to speak, to explain the plan. There were slides. Photographs of the tanker. Explanations on the environmental audits done, the potential problems that were anticipated and what was being done to counter them. More words about why they were sponsoring a cape to do the work. And then...
"After all that, I'm sure you're all keen to meet the new cape who will be helping Brockton Bay, so with no more further ado, I am proud to introduce you to Walker."
That was my cue, and I flew onto the stage. I was, of course, dressed in my full regalia of my Robe of Stars, Mask of Law and Grace, and Vectis Gloves. I admit the gasps from the press at seeing me, and the rapid staccato of camera shutters was quite gratifying.
"Thank you, Mr Hebert," I recited, "Hello! My name is Walker, and I am proud to offer my services to the Dockworkers Association to clear the tanker out of the mouth of the Bay and usher in more prosperous days for our home city. I am very grateful for everyone who has given up so much of their time and effort to make this happen so swiftly." I nodded towards the mayor, who beamed at me. I then turned back to the press. "Um. Any questions?"
I don't recall who asked what question, but they followed a broad narrative.
"What can you tell us about yourself?" -- I was a new cape. I grew up in Brockton Bay.
"Can you tell us about your Powers?" -- I was a flying noctis brute who could summon objects from other planes.
"What objects can you summon?" -- It's random.
"Did a tinker make your robe and mask?" -- No, they're summoned objects.
"What do they do?" -- Keep me warm and dry when I'm flying. Otherwise, no comment. That one got a few laughs.
"Can you give your objects to other people?" -- Haven't worked out how to give my gear to Brockton citizens yet.
"What can you tell us about the golem?" -- It's going to be big, friendly, made of iron and bronze, and look a bit like a Spartan.
"How will you control the golem?" -- I tell it what to do. It will obey my orders.
"Can anyone give it instructions?" -- Only if I order it to obey someone else's orders.
"What will you do if it runs amok?" -- It won't. It can't.
"What will you do if someone else gains control of your golem?" -- They won't. They can't.
"How will you react if the golem attacks someone?" -- It won't. It can't.
The press were really pressing me on how I controlled the golem, and maybe I shouldn't have let it get to me. It did, though.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, if my golem were to 'run amok' or attack someone who wasn't attacking it, I would hold it off until the Protectorate could intervene. They have the Triumvirate on speed dial, for pity's sake. Heck, half the Wards could stop it in its tracks if they wanted. It will be fine!"
"I think that is all the questions we have time for right now," said Ms Cooper, diving in to save me maybe a question too late. I very quickly surrendered the podium to her. "Now, we are privileged to have Miss Militia of the Protectorate here to say a few words." I found a place on the stage to float awkwardly. I was so grateful that my costume made it impossible to read my expression. That didn't help me work out what to do with my hands though. I ended up tucking them into my sleeves.
"Thank you, Ms Cooper," said Miss Militia, calmly marching up to the podium as Ms Cooper smoothly stepped aside. They'd both clearly done this dance before. "I am Miss Militia, and I am a member of the Protectorate, assigned to the PRT East-North-East region. I am happy to say that we have reviewed Walker's plans and have given our approval for the summoning to proceed. While I will not go into full details on the security for the event on Wednesday, I can confirm that there will be a strong Protectorate presence, and we are confident that we have accounted for all reasonable contingencies. Please rest assured that public safety remains our number one priority."
Every journalist raised their hand for Miss Militia's attention. She nodded to one lady who hadn't had a question answered so far.
"Wendy Mossberger, Brockton Bay Bugle. What is Walker's PRT Power Classification?"
Miss Militia nodded, "We have not done Power testing with Walker yet, but their provisional rating is Brute 9, Mover 5, Trump 9." Huh, that was interesting. I was sure that they'd give me a 'Master' rating, after having met Prakash. Was this the PRT playing nice with me?
"Brute 9? Trump 9?" said Wendy without even waiting for a nod.
"What rating would you give to someone who can summon and command a golem that is taller than town hall? So, yes, Trump 9. As for Brute 9, last night Walker dropped Hookwolf, who is himself rated as Brute 7, off at the PRT-ENE Headquarters, having overpowered him without taking a scratch. Brute 9 was considered a reasonable provisional assessment."
Yeah, that set the cat amongst the pigeons.
The press had wanted to ask me more questions about Hookwolf, but I stuck to the most basic facts and let Miss Militia handle most of the questions. Eventually they ran out of questions that anyone was going to answer and Ms Cooper called a close to the proceedings. The whole thing had taken hours and I was still thinking over every answer I had given and every mistake I'd made.
Everyone on the stage had a quick conference afterwards, where Ms Cooper assured me that I'd done fine and there would be no problems. I bumped fists with the mayor, my dad, Ms Collins, and Miss Militia, and then beat a hasty retreat. There had been a camera crew waiting for me to leave the building, so I took the expedient route of shooting into the sky as fast as my flight would take me.
Victoria Dallon, aka New Wave's 'Glory Girl' watched the video play out again. A new cape in the Bay was one thing, but a powerful Trump was another. She longed to examine Walker's robe and mask, because they just didn't look real, and if those gloves weren't tinkertech she'd eat her tiara.
There was another video she hadn't watched yet, of Walker leaving after the conference. She didn't have high expectations -- it was only a few seconds long. She clicked 'play', and was watching the town hall front door. It opened, and Walker stepped out, still wearing her costume. She caught sight of the camera, and then rocketed up in the air, faster than Vicky could fly.
"Mover 5 my ass!" said Vicky.
Yuriko had been right when she said that I needed a phone. I had money from our 'petty cash' ex-Treasure token, and I used it to buy a much nicer second-hand phone before heading home.
Dad hugged me when he got back home. "You did well, Taylor. Good job."
"Thanks, Dad," I said, "Do you know why they announced Hookwolf's capture like that? Surely they would want to make it its own announcement."
"Dunno, kiddo," he replied, "Maybe they were trying to talk you up. You don't have a reputation yet, so them putting the Hookwolf conversation in there meant that they could make sure that people take you seriously, so that they'll take Collie seriously."
"Ugh, politics," I said.
Dad laughed at me, "Oh, kiddo, just wait until you're older. I promise you can cram more disgust into the word than that."
"Something to look forward to."
Dad cooked supper, a very nice bolognaise, and then I headed out to do some 'stuff'. I told Dad that I wasn't going to target Empire, and that he shouldn't wait up. He needed his sleep, and he had work tomorrow.
First, I place my Island at Brockton Electronics, a shop deep in Empire territory. It wasn't the neatest fit, but it meant that the Bootleggers' Stash now gave me a secret tunnel to the middle of the Empire's heartland. It was dark, I was flying, no-one spotted me.
Second, I headed out to the Triome Wilds. I found a relatively flat piece of land, and summoned the Golden Guardian, tapping my mox and jewel. It was a massive golem with glowing traces of what looked to be molten gold flowing through its body. It looked at me with impassive eyes.
I took a deep breath, and then paid two mana from my gem to have it fight me to death.
It wasn't a fight.
The golem was dangerous: huge, fast, powerful and tough.
I had a card called, 'Tidy Conclusion' that would instantly destroy a target creature.
The second I cast Tidy Conclusion, the golem shattered into tens of thousands of motes of light that streamed up into the air and then arc downwards into me. Getting hit with three life points had felt great. Getting hit with one hundred and forty seven life points in one go?
Yeah.
I barely had the presence of mind to set the Gold-Forge Garrison in the depths of the Bootleggers' Stash's tunnels before I fell back onto the sandy soil.
Midnight hit before I knew it.
Tuesday 25th January 2011
Okay, I was still as high as a kite when the day started, but my interface was asking lots of questions that I needed to answer. The pressure kept building until I was forced to do stuff.
What artefact would I copy with Artificer 3? Eh, the tunnels needed guards. I got myself another scarecrow and pointed it at the entrance to the Stash. It'd patrol and guard the stash, scaring off intruders.
What cards to discard? I only needed to get rid of three. Goodbye, Chained Throatseeker, Goblin Gathering, Shredding Winds, I hardly knew ye. Enjoy the quiet of the graveyard, maybe give Yuriko something to play with. Or kill.
My new Scheme? Know Naught but Fire. It would damage my enemies proportionally to the number of cards they had in their hands. I didn't want to burn my enemies to a crisp, and was in far too good a mood to think about it. They didn't have any cards so it wouldn't do anything, but I didn't activate it anyway.
My new card? Invoke the Winds.
Okay, that broke my mood quite ably. Invoke the Winds was a very simple sorcery: pay one generic and four blue mana to 'Gain control of target artefact or creature. Untap it.' It was a Mastery effect. An undeniable Mastery spell that would gain me permanent control of whoever I pointed it at. Quick. Simple.
This was the kind of spell that would get me sent to the Birdcage. It was the kind of spell that would let me destroy the Empire with ease. I had no real clue how to end the Empire, but I'd bet my Armsmaster-themed underwear that Kaiser could do it. With this spell I wouldn't even need to ask him nicely.
I'd already given up being a hero. Casting this spell would permanently make me a villain. This was worse than murder.
I sat there at the bank of the river with my head in my hands, uncaring of the world.
I cared plenty a couple of hours later, when I realised the state of my hair.
I'd been lying in sandy, salty soil for hours. My hair was ruined. I shrieked when I realised what happened, and flew back home at my top speed to shower, recondition, and see if anything could be salvaged.
My hair wasn't 'good' by the time I needed to head to school, but that was what the hoodies were for.
I really needed some decent hair-care cards, pronto.
Thankfully no-one at school noticed: Madison was avoiding me, Sophia still hadn't turned up, Emma was still committed to an insane asylum, and her minions were giving me a wide berth.
School was boring, until it wasn't. Vice Principal Evans came over the tannoy, announcing a last period assembly for the entire school.
The assembly was a bit disorganised, but the key bits came out. Principal Blackwell wasn't School Principal any more. Evans would be acting Principal until the board identified a successor. There was a document I needed to take home to be signed by Dad. They very pointedly didn't say what had happened.
I was grinning like a loon as we left assembly. Yuriko had struck down Principal Blackwell from beyond the grave! Justice was served! Finally!
Unfortunately some people noticed that I seemed to know what was going on and started asking me awkward questions. For the first time in a year people wanted to talk to me, and now I didn't want to talk to them. I solved the problem by ignoring them and walking away, but I knew that the rumour mill wouldn't let things lie there.
The letter from the school didn't have much more information than the Vice-Principal had given out. Dad let me read it: Blackwell was gone, wouldn't be coming back, and it wasn't the fault of anyone at the school, honest.
The only thing about it that caught my attention, because it was weird, was the emphasis that bullying wouldn't be tolerated and a 'thorough review' would be held on prior complaints. Blackwell hadn't been bullying people alongside the graft, right?
It hardly mattered: she was gone, I was confident that she'd be prosecuted, I was happy.
I mean, apart for the state of my hair.
Another nice thing that happened that afternoon -- Prakash completed another Spotter Thopter for the PRT. This one wasn't a prototype but a fully developed version, with greater power, toughness, vision, and all that jazz, and even better its attacks were non-lethal -- he'd swapped the prototype's blasters with containment foam sprayers. It's creation also let me scry cards when it entered the battlefield, just as the previous Spotter Thopter had done.
I had already committed to keeping Shieldmate's Blessing from my previous Scry. I also kept Contact Other Plane which would draw me cards. The other two cards, Misthoof Kirin (a magical flying dragon-goat based on the card art) and Lethal Sting were less desirable to me, and I happily consigned them to the bottom of my deck.
Armsmaster and Dragon both congratulated Prakash on the second thopter. Apparently the first one had been so useful that other cities wanted one, but he'd be able to work on some other flying projects before he needed to deliver another. Armsmaster and Dragon had a few ideas, and soon they were lost in a highly technical conversation about possibilities for bringing their various expertises together for different projects. Prakash was bubbling with delight at the respect of his peers and the prospect of more Tinkering, and it was a little contagious.
My hair needed some extra love after the abuse I'd heaped onto it that morning.
Once it was drying, I settled down in my room and idly jotted down thoughts and plans. It was eight PM, and, it had been a full day, and I still had more to do.
Firstly, I checked my messages on PHO online as I did every day, despite the sluggish nature of our internet connection. This time I had a new message from 'Miss Militia (Confirmed Cape) (Brockton Bay Protectorate)' telling me when and where to meet her, Thursday night. I made a note.
Then was the big action I'd been waiting for. I had twelve mana in hand. I tapped two lands into treasure tokens, because I hadn't remembered to do that this morning, and then, for two blue mana and eight generic mana, I upgraded my Artificer class to level 4. I became a Tinker.
I had a reason for doing this and not Escalate(!!!)ing, even though it had been ages since I last Escalate(!!)d. The reason was simple -- I had a plan, and there was something I needed to make that plan work. I didn't have it. I didn't know what it would even look like, but I was sure that there would be an artefact I could Tinker up that would do what I needed.
Becoming a Tinker wasn't as mind-blowing as becoming a master artificer. I just suddenly had a few faint ideas at the back of my mind.
That was fine. The way Tinkering worked was simple. You design what you want. You get the tools and materials you'll need to make the tools and materials you'll need to make the final product (there may be a few more iterations of those steps for some projects), and then you make your object. I would have to put aside time to convert my materials into Tinker counters that would eventually become the object I needed. The first step, though, was to decide what to make. My Tinker affinity was 'Artefacts a planeswalker could summon'. I needed to go through all my options. I wanted to make notes for future projects.
I lay back in bed and tried to envisage what I could now make.
Ouch.
There were a LOT of artefacts. Thousands of them, and they weren't just lots of examples of a few different object types. There were equipment artefacts, creature artefacts, land artefacts, vehicle artefacts, enchantment artefacts, sentient planeswalker artefacts (although I was probably not going to be able to tinker up one of them)...
I could sort the cards in my mind in various ways, (thank you, Queen Administrator), so I sorted them alphabetically and counted the number of cards starting with 'B' -- there were 205 of them (there were too many that started with A, I decided). I then counted the pages in my school dictionary for words that started with 'B' (32), and the total number of pages in the dictionary -- 623 (page numbers for the win). So, if the proportions roughly held (and I had no idea if they would or not), I was looking at nearly four thousand cards.
I couldn't go through them all; I just didn't have enough time. I looked for the highlights. Low casting cost? It looked like my Mox Amber wasn't the only Mox I could get, and each one would give me one mana of one colour or another. Nice. There were lots of other things at zero cost, and I couldn't sort through them all. Most expensive casting cost? There was a joke artefact that cost one million mana (which also looked like a horrific device for Mastering the world), but then the second most expensive artefact was an object called a Mox Lotus that cost fifteen tinker counters to make, and gave infinite mana each turn. That one might have been a joke as well, maybe? But it looked like it would still work anyway.
Excalibur, Sword of Eden would cost me 12 tinker counters, and it would give me ten points of power. I didn't need that, frankly, but I couldn't deny that it would be cool to own. Even if the only people I could show it to were my dad and my summoned friends.
There was an object that would make me indestructible. Several of them, in fact. That sounded useful.
I could have a spaceship. I could have a flying aircraft carrier that had angels and not aeroplanes. I could have any number of weapons. I could have what looked to be a perpetual motion machine.
No spaceship, I decided, not until the day the Simurgh was gone; there was no way that the Hopekiller would let it fly. I didn't want to kill people, so the weapons were pretty much useless to me. And the kickass angel carrier. Angels didn't sell well these days anyway, they looked too much like the Simurgh. The perpetual motion machine looked useful; it'd give me a lot more mana every turn. So would that Mox Lotus, but that was a lot of tinker counters even if I could get the materials I'd need...
There was one other thing that caught my eye.
What did I want? I wanted to save the Bay, and not do that through killing everything in sight. So to bring prosperity to the Bay, and that probably meant another tourist attraction. And I did see a very interesting card for that. I mean, the picture implied that it might be more than just a big pile of rocks, but if it was, I was sure that someone could stop that from being a problem. And it did other things, too; it would give me more life, more mana. Hmmm. Something to make later, then. I noted The Great Henge down in my notepad.
Either way, I had jotted down details of a dozen artefacts that looked to be useful for me to consider, but the one I really wanted, the one I had become a Tinker to make? I found it, and it was cheap. One single tinker counter would be enough, and the materials would be easy enough to get.
I made a note -- the Bards had the right contacts to get most of what I needed, and I could make the tools I would need from a few boring purchases from Lord Street Market, along with the last few items I would need.
I was going to make myself a Spellbook.
I duplicated my Coveted Jewel for my level 3 Artificer choice last night. Mindful of the effect that looking at it had on me, I'd 'sat' on the Jewel manifesting until I had an old shopping bag big enough to fit it, and then let it spawn inside the bag, and threw it on the appropriate pile in the basement. It landed with a clank. Just like the first Coveted Jewel, it would tap for three mana of any one colour, and it drew me three cards when it spawned.
As expected, I drew Shieldmate's Blessing and Contact Other Plane, a card that would let me draw up to three other cards, depending on luck. The other card was less interesting: Blood Pact would draw two cards for the cost of two life (and three mana to cast it). Meh -- I had plenty of cards and plenty of life, but I had better things to do with my mana.
I had too many cards in my hand. I needed to get rid of four of them, and I went with Jade Bearer, Ramosian Rally, Blood Pact, and Intrusive Packbeast. I liked the look of the Jade Bearer, but I couldn't pretend that summoning them would be a sensible thing to do. I really didn't think I'd need the Rally any time soon -- I wasn't keen to throw my friends into combat, even if they did consent, and the last two cards just didn't interest me. Well, the packbeast was a non-lethal takedown for two opponents, which was good, but then I'd be left with a cow bigger than a bus that would need housing, feeding, cleaning up after, and would presumably be rather unhappy without any friends to herd with. Too much maintenance, thank you very much.
Wednesday 26th January 2011
Your Puny Minds Cannot Fathom!' I incanted. No, the name of my next Scheme didn't make any more sense when spoken out loud. It really needed a subject -- "Your Puny Minds Cannot Fathom the Extent of My Power!" No, no, that didn't work either. Fathom is all about distance down, and extent is usually distance outwards. Hmm. "Your Puny Minds Cannot Fathom the Depths of My Brilliance!" Better. Not great, 'brilliance' feels like it should have an upward trajectory, but it'd do.
I had problems with the title of the Scheme, but I had no problem with what it did. It drew me four cards, and gave me an unlimited hand size until the end of the next turn. No free spells with this one, but I forgave it.
I activated it.
Four cards: Fear of Surveillance was a floating nightmare eye with tendrils and three pasty-white arms. It was Vigilant (obviously), and whenever it attacked it would allow me to look at the top card of my library and put it into my graveyard if I wanted. Depending on how it manifested, that might actually be useful. Driving my enemies mad isn't as bad as killing them, right? If they're really nasty people, at least? I considered my horrific pet nightmare as a 'maybe'.
Battering Craghorn was a goat beast that looked like a demonic dire goat with disturbingly human eyes. Its stats were impressive -- 3 attack power coupled with first strike would win a lot of fights in the Bay -- but I wasn't interested.
Tempest Owl? Ooh -- cute, useful, and essential for any Harry Potter cosplay I might want to do!
Cinder Hellion -- I think I'll pass on the massive ugly fire slug, thank you.
My Power-selected card was far more interesting, as it solved two problems I'd been wrestling with. Okay, two minor irritations that I was dealing with just fine, thank you. Firstly, my mask, the Mask of Law and Grace, was not exactly subtle when it came to anything stealthy -- it blazed with light. Secondly, I really didn't know how my system would interpret damage, and wasn't keen to experiment. My Power's solution?
Darksteel Plate. A full suit of black plate armour that was both indestructible, and granted its wearer indestructibility. I mean, the picture showed it to be a little shiny, but it was far better than having a bright light shining from my face. I could keep the Robe of Stars / Mask of Law and Grace combination for public appearances, and switch to the darksteel plate for when the guns started blazing.
Upon inspection and contemplation, Indestructibility wasn't Invulnerability. I could still be injured, but I couldn't be easily killed. While my Life Points gave me great regeneration, they wouldn't stop me from dying if I took more damage than I had toughness. This Darksteel Plate would.
Queen Administrator picked me the best cards.
New cards all assessed, I tapped all my lands except the Garrison for Treasure. Phew. Sorting out everything that happened at midnight was taking longer and longer.
I mean, I was still bored while waiting for breakfast time, and I was almost looking forward to school (!), but still. I occupied myself drawing up notes for my Spellbook. It wasn't really necessary, with a casting cost of zero I could tinker one up in a few hours with the right materials, without any fancy preparation, but it was good practice and it passed the time.
School was back to interesting again. I was getting looks. They used to be looks of pity or disgust. These ones were caution, distrust, and occasionally outright fear. Of course, no-one was speaking to me so I had no idea why.
I went in search of someone I knew whom I could interrogate.
"Ah! Taylor! You surprised me!" said Greg Veder. I hadn't actually sneaked up on him, but he never had anything resembling situational awareness.
"Greg, why are people staring at me?"
Greg looked like he wanted to be anywhere but standing next to me. "Um, I don't know?" Greg was a terrible liar.
"Greg..."
"Okay! It's just that since you've become a cape all your, you know, enemies, have, like, a habit of disappearing. Dropping out of school. It's scary."
"What do you mean, 'since I became a cape'?"
"Eep!" Greg's cowering game was on fire today. I glared at him. Thankfully his folding-like-a-wet-paper-towel skills were also making a strong showing. "Well, ever since, you know, the, uh, you know? You've gotten all, um, Amazonian? And then Emma disappeared and no-one is saying anything, and then Sophia stopped showing up to school and isn't answering her phone, and now Blackwell disappeared, and you seemed to know what that was about even though no-one else did. People are connecting the dots and really don't want that line of dots to connect to them. Madison has gone home sick, you know."
There was so much wrong to unpack there that I didn't know where to start. 'Amazonian'? No, focus, Taylor. "Look, Greg. None of that has anything to do with me. Emma wasn't well, she's getting treatment. Blackwell was embezzling school funds, she's getting arrested. And I have no idea what is up with Sophia--" That letter, review of bullying, did someone tell the PRT what Sophia was getting up to at Winslow? They'd never do that in my defence, but if she was spreading the pain around, maybe one of her victims actually managed to be heard? Which would mean the Probationary Ward might not be a Probationary Ward any more, and that would mean juvie. "--Huh. Okay, I have an idea of what might have happened to her, but she has no-one to blame but herself. It certainly wasn't me!"
Greg's eyes were round as saucers, and I just realised that I'd dumped a mother lode of gossip on the school's gossip patient zero. "Is-- is Sophia coming back?"
I sighed, "If I'm right, no. Not ever."
Greg gulped, and then ran.
Yeah, they were looking at me even more now. Great job, Taylor.
I escaped at lunchtime. I'm sure that all the gossips at school were as happy about that as I was.
I didn't have much time, though. I had a hurried lunch and then changed into my Walker costume and then flew out to the docks.
There was a crowd waiting. A big crowd. And lots and lots of television cameras. And they weren't even the most intimidating thing.
I flew down to meet one of the Triumvirate -- Legend was here.
Legend was tall, lean, muscular, square-jawed, and gay. I was definitely not the only person who was disappointed when they realised that last fact; it had been a big thing when he came out, but I had been too young to understand what that meant at the time. Sending him to Brockton Bay was a lovely 'fuck you' to our resident Empire Eighty-Eight bigots.
"Legend, Sir. It is an honour to meet you!" No, I wasn't babbling. I was speaking calmly and with dignity.
"Walker, it's a pleasure," he said, offering his hand for me to shake, "I heard that you were going to put on a show and I couldn't stay away." I could translate that one pretty easily, but he had the grace to look slightly embarrassed and clarified. "Sorry about this. I, and the Protectorate, have every confidence in your abilities, but--"
"But you being here will keep people calm," I said, shaking his hand. Legend didn't need a fist bump for his protection, "Thank you for being here, it really is an honour to meet you, and sorry to pull you away. I know you must be very busy."
He smiled, "Oh, I am, but this is worth it. We spend so much time fire-fighting, it is a welcome relief to help someone who is proactively working to make things better! Keep it up, Walker. Keep it up."
"Thank you, Sir." Yeah, I was feeling taller than Collie would be after that speech. The Triumvirate were all awesome in their own ways, but Legend really was by all accounts the most heroic of them. Being seen by him? That blaze of young heroism in my heart grew stronger.
"Still, you're not wrong about the busyness. Shall we get started?"
"Absolutely, Sir."
There was a jetty next to the Dockworker Association's main building, and another a few dozen feet away. Both areas had been cleared of any obstacles, and trials done previously made me certain that I could summon Collie with his feet on each of the concrete pads. Everyone was standing well back. I flew into position, and a silence came over the crowd. I tapped both my Coveted Jewels and my Mox Amber, which released seven mana. I then directed it to summon the Colossus of Akros.
The Colossus of Akros was an iron and bronze statue that stood about 130 feet tall. That doesn't mean much to anyone until they're less than thirty feet away and struggle to crane their heads far enough to see his head. I'm sure that the DWA would have put the crowd further back if they could, but then they'd be sitting in the middle of the approach road.
"Holy--" "Fuck!" "My god!" "Goddam!"
Legend was a star, he just said, "Huh, that is a big guy."
Most of the crowd had been seated, so they were okay, but more than one cameraman staggered backwards or fell.
The Colossus didn't care. He raised his massive spear, whose head was easily twice as long as I was tall, in salute, and bellowed, [For The Glory Of Akros!]
His voice boomed over the gathering, making people flinch.
[Hey, Collie,] I said, [You will protect this city. But first we need to remove the tanker blocking the Bay. Oh, and give you aviation warning lights.]
[For The Glory Of Akros!]
Right. Another scintillating conversationalist.
The lights were easy enough -- the PRT and the DWA had agreed on the lighting system, and it was easy to fit Collie with lights, a solar panel, and a hefty battery pack hidden under his helmet.
There was a bigger problem: as I'd suspected from the card's flavour text and description, the Colossus couldn't actually, you know, walk. That was what the whole 'Defender' keyword was about. The card showed him standing over the inlet of a city, and his long spear would be great for stabbing unwanted visitors, but not so good for removing distant tankers. Thankfully, he could be granted the power of walking with the infusion of ten mana. My original plan had been to tap into my treasure reserves for that mana (hey, choice between public embarrassment in front of Legend and five hundred thousand dollars? Shut up and take my money!). Thanks to the mana ramp up I'd had recently from the Coveted Jewels and the Khalni Gem and new lands, I actually legitimately had the daily mana to activate him.
I tapped my Garrison and pretty rocks and infused the mana into Collie. He made a loud and wordless cry like a war horn, only so, so much louder, and then turned to face the sea, walking with confidence.
I flew with him, at his head height, as he strode into the water. The Bay was deep, and the water came up to his chest, but it got higher again where the tanker was blocking it, at only ankle height. Puppeting the Colossus was definitely the way to go, I didn't want to try and instruct Collie about how to dismantle a tanker with verbal instructions.
There was a news helicopter circling us, Legend had flown out a little so that he had a good view, and one of Prakash's Spotter Thopters was watching us, too. Between my Bards watching the television and the Spotter, I had plenty of eyes to see through as I guided Collie to the tanker, and the DWA had helpfully marked up the tanker with spray paint so that I knew where to cut.
I planted Collie's spear into the silt of the Bay, and drew his short-sword (which was only short for Collie -- it was longer than the tanker was wide). I decided to make one big cut first, and see if the two sections of tanker would be light enough to lift without further cuts being necessary. The infusion that allowed Collie to walk had also made him stronger. He went from a mere 10/10 golem to a far more respectable 20/20 golem. I had him carefully align the blow along the DWA centre line and swung.
There was a high-pitched cacophony of metal, and the tanker was now in two pieces. The chopped ends of both pieces were being pushed away by the current, so I had Collie sheath his sword and try to pick one of the ship sections up.
It wasn't easy to get a good grip, but by tilting the tanker section in his arms, he was able to carry it out of the water and towards the makeshift salvage yard that had been set up for it. Putting it back down again neatly was a bit fiddly, but manageable. I sent Collie out to pick up the other piece, and laid it alongside the first, as planned.
There was shouts and cheering from the shoreline, people waving and taking photographs, so I had Collie salute them with his sword, and he boomed, [For The Glory Of Akros] again.
I parked him on a small spit of land near the head of the bay, sword sheathed and spear in hand, and set him to stand guard and not kill anyone. I was sure that it was only a matter of time before someone managed to get themselves stepped on, but that wasn't my concern. The DWA would put up a fence with 'Do Not Approach' signs, and maybe a tourist booth to distract people.
I flew back to the docks, and found Legend staring at Collie thoughtfully. We were far enough away that we could talk privately.
"Impressive stuff, Walker," said Legend, "You say that you'd be willing to call it over for Endbringer fights?"
"Yes, Sir," I said, "I'm not sure how useful he will be--"
"I'm keen to find out," said Legend with an engaging grin, "Maybe not the Simurgh, but Leviathan? Absolutely, if only to form an area of denial. And if he can stand up to Behemoth's heat, he'd be a godsend."
"Well, he's opened up the Bay, so the most important job is done. If he gets wrecked trying to help, well, it was worth a try. Easy come, easy go."
Legend nodded seriously, "Thank you, Walker. I look forward to working with you in the future. Keep up the good work!"
He shook my hand again (!) and flew south, presumably back to New York where he was stationed. Legend could fly so much faster than I could -- he was out of sight in a moment.
Looking for something to do, I saw Dad speaking with Miss Militia and Armsmaster, so I flew down to join them.
"Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Mr Hebert," I said as I approached.
"Walker, thank you again for doing this," said Dad, "That tanker has been a blight on the Bay for far too long. And Collie will be a popular destination for our tourists for a long time to come."
"No problem, Mr Hebert," I said formally, "I'm just happy that I could help."
"Speaking of uses for your golem," said Armsmaster, "Would you be willing to command him to view the PRT and Protectorate as allies? Being able to direct it in some emergencies would be useful."
I shrugged, "Sure, but not today. At the moment, he only speaks Ancient Greek, but he should learn English via mnemonic transfer and somnolent concept osmosis over the next few days." My mask hid my grin as I copied the words that Guillaume had used to describe the process. Wait-- 'Somnolent' meant 'sleeping' and Collie didn't sleep. Darn it, now they're going to think that I was an idiot. I kept going and hoped that they wouldn't notice my gaffe. "Once he understands English we can probably sort something out. I'll order him to obey DWA for civilian activities, but give the Protectorate some method of overriding those commands in an emergency. Maybe a unique object that Collie will recognise; you don't want him to just obey everything said to him by someone dressed as a PRT officer, after all."
"Correct," said Armsmaster. There was a brief, awkward silence.
"I'll be off, then," I said, "Mr Hebert, you know how to contact me if you have any other ideas on what to do with Collie."
"That I do. Have a pleasant afternoon."
"You, too."
"Walker," said Armsmaster before I could leave.
"Yes?"
"Are you aware of a computer game called, 'Shadow of the Colossus'?"
"No, should I be?"
"Probably not; I hadn't heard of it until it was pointed out to me by a colleague. The game involves climbing over various colossal creatures, weakening them, and then killing them. My colleague is certain that Leet and Über are aware of the game."
Great, Collie was probably going to be targetted by Brockton's least favourite (and only) gaming-themed parahuman villains. I thanked Armsmaster for the tip, and flew off.
Lisa Wilbourn had been intrigued by the idea of someone calling objects from other planes; she would have been at the summoning even if Coil hadn't outright ordered her to be there.
The whole thing had been terrifying.
First was the whole, 'I'm a villain and Legend is flying right there in front of me' thing, which didn't do much to calm Lisa's nerves.
Then Walker had flown up to casually chat with one of the most powerful capes on the planet, and Power went wild, feeding her information. Walker is female ... Walker is nervous ... Walker's clothes are not tinkertech ... Walker's clothes grant Walker additional powers ... Walker summoned them ... Walker can continue to summon more power-granting clothes for herself ... Walker is one of the most powerful people in the Bay ... Walker regularly gaining strength ... At current rate, Walker will become more powerful than Legend inside a few weeks ... Walker will eventually become more powerful than combined Triumvirate ... Walker--
Lisa looked away. She had already stretched her Power a lot to get that much information; more and she'd be nursing a migraine from hell before she even saw the giant metal statue.
Lisa did her breathing exercises and tried to relax. She didn't look up until the mood of the crowd changed from impatient to expectant. Walker was in position, Legend watching her. Legend is confident that golem will obey Walker ... Protectorate has already inspected a golem ... Walker summoned a golem before--
Then the golem appeared and Lisa forgot how to breathe. Golem is magical ... Golem is powerful ... Golem cannot walk ... Golem will not be able to dismantle tanker from current location ...wait a minute, shouldn't she be having a headache right now? It seemed that Power was too fascinated by Walker to punish her for using it... Golem is non-sentient ... Golem can understand spoken commands
The golem roared out something so loud that Lisa's ears hurt. She clasped her hands over them and hunched up in her seat. Golem speaks Ancient Greek ... Golem is modelled after Spartan warrior ... Other planes include Ancient Greek analogues
She looked up to see Walker clench her fist, bright light streaming through her fingers, and then throwing the light at the Colossus. Colossus can now walk ... Colossus is now stronger ... Colossus is now more powerful than Legend
Lisa whined in fear, quietly.
The DWA had set up a big screen to show the dismantling of the tanker. It was streaming the feed from the news helicopter. Golem is being controlled by Walker ... Walker has absolute control over golem ... Walker can control herself and golem simultaneously ... Walker is also viewing tanker through eyes of PRT Spotter Thopter ... Walker can control the PRT Spotter Thopter ... PRT have worked closely with Walker
The shriek of metal as the great sword cut the tanker in two with one hit made Lisa flinch, just like everyone else. She watched as the golem picked up and carried each half of the tanker to the shore with ease. Her Power kept feeding her information about the golem and Walker, estimates on strength, ability, and it was all terrifying.
After the Golem had been set on guard duty and Walker flew away, Power insisted on getting a closer look at the golem. As it wasn't causing her pain at the moment, Lisa saw no reason not to accommodate it; she was curious too. And once she had done that, she would have an awful lot of information to get Coil off her back for a few days.
It was a busy day, and I still had more to do. First, though, was going home for an early supper. I'd sent Dad on an urgent errand, so I made a nice lasagne to compensate him for his time.
He returned with two bags laden with goodies from the Lord Street Market and I gladly relieved him of them.
We were eating the lasagne when the doorbell rung.
I went to answer it, and found myself facing Miss Militia. Or rather, Hannah Washington, Miss Militia's civilian identity. Beside her was an average-height late-middle-aged man with dark skin, very short curly hair, pale blue eyes, and a thin smile. They were both dressed as PRT officers.
My ability to multi-task was so useful -- even as I took them in, I switched to my unsummonable Earth Bet card UI and noted that there was now a new parahuman card, and that parahuman was in my visible range. 'Sere -- Brutal Hero' He had the ability to physically pull the water out of people (yeuch) and dehydrate them, either in a field or in a longer-range conical blast.
"Hello, Ma'am," said Hannah, "Is your father home?"
We put our plates in the oven to keep them warm and invited the PRT agents into the living room. Hannah saw the 'You don't have to be mad to work here' poster and laughed. Before she would say anything else, she did ask us both to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Dad read it carefully before signing his, and taking his cue, I did the same.
"Thank you. I'm Hannah Washington, and this is Mordell Clayton, and we're with the PRT. I'm very sorry to have interrupted your supper, Mr Hebert, Ms Hebert; we'll try to keep this brief."
"That would be appreciated," said Dad firmly.
Hannah held out a letter to Dad, "This is an official apology from the PRT for the suffering that your daughter underwent at the hands of Sophia Hess," Dad took the letter from her, but didn't open it, "You may not be aware of this, but Ms Hess was a Protectorate Ward. The complaints raised about her conduct were ignored by her case worker in return for cash payments from Principal Blackwell of Winslow High, who was embezzling the funds that the Protectorate was paying Winslow High for Ms Hess's additional security needs."
Neither of us were actors. I was pretty sure that both capes realised that we already knew about Sophia's alter identity. "That is very concerning, Ms Washington," said my dad, "Should you be telling us Ms Hess's parahuman status?"
"Recidivist criminals do not have the full protection of the unwritten rules, Mr Hebert, especially when they abused others with their parahuman abilities while out of costume. Ms Hess has been remanded in custody to face the charges that were suspended when she joined the Wards under a probationary deal. She will not be returning to school, so the revelation should have limited impact. We do ask that you not disclose this conversation to others, though."
"Understood. Is the PRT going to do anything to compensate my daughter beyond offering some pretty words?"
Hannah nodded firmly. "The letter details a generous compensation offer. In addition to the money, we would be happy to expedite your daughter's transfer to Arcadia High, if she so desires."
"Arcadia High?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Our investigation implies that Winslow High might not be a good match for you. Transferring to Arcadia High would allow you to start fresh."
I nodded, it did sound tempting.
"...Also," said Hannah, "Arcadia High is a vocational school. It allows students to dedicate half their days to other productive activities than schoolwork, if suitable employment can be found. I'm sure that the DWA would be able to sponsor your daughter's apprenticeship, for example." Ooh, half-day schooling every day? I mean, my mother would be disappointed, but the idea was attractive.
Dad stiffened, "Thank you for the suggestion. I'll have to discuss this with Taylor."
Hannah rose to her feet, "Thank you for your time, Mr Hebert. If you wish to discuss the offer, or details of that transfer, there are contact details on the letter."
"See you later," I said, waving as they left.
"They know," said Dad, once we'd recovered our lasagne from the oven, "That half-day thing is how they get the time to train the Wards."
"They suspect," I replied, "They wouldn't have sent two capes for that conversation if they didn't."
"Wait, what?"
"They were capes, Dad. Don't worry, they were out of costume, so they weren't expecting a fight, I think. I'm just tired of the double-speak. I'm tempted to unmask to the PRT, just to keep the conversation simpler. If that compensation isn't a joke or the move offer isn't a trap."
"Unmasking is your choice, always, Little Owl. I'll check the offer after supper. It probably is generous; they are treating Walker with very soft kid gloves. They want you to join the PRT."
"Hmph. I admit that Miss Militia hasn't been too bad. I need to work out how many of them are corrupt, incompetent, or hypocrites before I make a final decision. Anyway, I cooked supper, so you can do the washing up while I work with my lovely presents."
"Of course, Ma'am," said Dad with a half-bow. I kissed his cheek as I left.
My bedroom wasn't the best crafting environment, but my Artificer skill would let me make do with far worse than what I had. Most of the materials I needed had been purchased from Parian by the Bards -- fine thin leather, silk thread, and parchment made by Parian's Power. I could get the other materials I needed from my treasure hoard -- lapis lazuli, gold, silver. Dad's trip to the Lords Market had gathered the tools I needed. With everything ready, I set an alarm and let myself slip into a Tinker fugue where my Power took the driving seat and made the magic happen.
It really wasn't a complicated job. The difficulty of the crafting correlated with the casting cost, and the artefact I'd chosen had a casting cost of zero. I'd be using materials of excellent quality, and adequate tools. I slipped out of the fugue state to find a beautiful leather-lined, gold-embossed book in front of me. My Spellbook.
It only did one thing, but it was something I really needed -- it permanently removed the limit on my hand size. Step one of unlocking my potential was complete.
Out of curiosity, I opened the book. I'd expected to see blank pages -- it wasn't as if I'd had the full selection of inks I'd need for my cards to properly show -- but I hadn't accounted for magic. The first page of the book showed the 'Wrath of Oko' card, complete with picture, flavour text, and explanatory notes. I was grinning like a madwoman as I turned the pages, looking through my cards one by one. Excellent! I could actually explain my cards to other people with this.
I was still admiring my Power's handiwork when my alarm rang.
Copying the Coveted Jewel had been working well for me before, and I didn't mind the extra cards, so I did that again with my Artificer level 3 power. I now had three Jewels, which was nice.
My new cards were Spinehorn Minotaur (another dumb bruiser, it seemed), Incite War (I was putting in a lot of work to try and do the exact opposite, thank you very much), and Woodland Sleuth a 2/3 Human Scout who made me pause. When the Sleuth entered the battlefield, if a creature died this turn, it would return a random creature card from my graveyard to my hand.
Yuriko...
I wouldn't actually kill someone to make it happen, but, you know, if someone died anyway... It only had a one-in-five chance of actually giving me Yuriko's card, but that was better odds than zero.
Thanks to my lovely new Spellbook, I didn't need to discard any cards.
Thanks to summoning and empowering Collie, and converting three of my Treasure tokens into Tinkering materials, I was down two Treasure for the day. Not great, but I should probably be spending my Treasure more anyway.
Coil re-read the report from Tattletale.
Coil had been worried about Walker. She'd been a little too pro-active in her enthusiastic attempt to 'save' Brockton Bay to make him think that she'd willingly be a follower. And now that he'd seen Tattletale's report, he was less convinced that his 'pet cape' plan was going to work out on her. He just didn't have time to set it in motion before she become too powerful to handle.
He sighed.
It was a shame, but the girl needed to go, and fast. He reached for the phone.