Chapter 5 : Out of Touch

Mnemon Rhomon, Sorcerer

Realm Year 764, Resplendent Water

Thousand Dragons Lake, An-Teng, Satrapy of the Realm

“...Are you certain of this… contraption?” Shuri, the latest addition to his company, asked with a polite nervousness, sharp-nailed fingers pressed together. So far a pleasant companion, the snake-prince had a rigid and formal manner of speech, a softness to his tone that never really went away, and a serpentine sway to all his walking. Very easy to mistake the poor lad for a woman, if you weren’t keeping a sharp eye out for secondary characteristics. 

A femboy, in short. Not exactly the first retinue member he would’ve picked, but a polite enough addition.

“He’ll feign confidence, at least.” Brahm declared dryly, staring at him with an unimpressed look on his face. The monk looked back and forth across the lake they were in the middle of, the hired boat gently rocking up and down from the small waves. The hired local was also staring at him with a vaguely concerned expression, watching him work with his latest construction.

“I am perfectly confident, yes.” Rhomon replied with a sharp nod, slipping his arms through the leather straps of his device. A large metal cylinder with a flexible but supple bit of waterproof tubing that fed into a simple metal helmet that had one panel of chiaroscuro glass as a viewing-port. The helmet had thick padding around the neck, and the whole thing was enchanted twice over to make up for the deficiencies in the craftsmanship.

It was his best attempt at making a diving helmet and air supply, half of it only functioning due to magic. The canister on his back contained a little trinket of blue jade that he had taken from the Palace of the Lotus- he was fairly certain it used to be an air freshener, because all the air it trickled out smelled like lemon citrus.

“We’ve already tested it thoroughly in the shallows. It works perfectly fine.” Rhomon nodded his head, slipping the helmet over his bare head but leaving the visor raised for the moment. He reached down to take hold of a rope that was attached to a bag of rocks. “And if it does fail- I can simply let go of these weights, float back up to the surface, and you can retrieve me.” 

“Ah… Sir… There are freshwater sharks in this lake…” The local fisherman spoke up with a nervous tone. Low Realm. He sounded quite hesitant to point this out to a paying customer. 

Rhomon was mostly nude at the moment, save a pair of shorts. Making himself bronze would weigh him down the same as the rocks, but it would also make it impossible to return to the surface if there was an accident. The layers of clothing and armor would only slow him down in the water, so he had stripped himself of most of it. The only things he was going to bring down was the breathing apparatus, the bag of rocks, and his staff.

The other things, of course, were the various talismans and charms he wore. He reached up to his neck and raised one in specific- a necklace carved from the tooth of a River Dragon and enchanted appropriately. “That’s why I have this talisman- they’ll steer clear of me so long as I wear this.”

Warding Talismans were superbly useful. 

The other talismans he had would protect against bad luck, evil magic, divination, poisons, diseases… 

He carried a lot of talismans. He cracked his neck and then nodded at Brahm and Shuri, letting the charm fall back to join its brothers around his neck. “Right- watch over my belongings while I’m down there.”

“At what point should we assume you to be dead?” Brahm asked sardonically.

“Hm… If I don’t come up within a day, it's probably safe to assume I’m dead.” Rhomon tapped a finger against his chin, thoughtfully. “If I end up finding an underwater cave down there like I’m predicting, then the air within will be more than enough for me to stay down and investigate for quite awhile.”

“I’ll make sure your corpse is returned to your family.” Brahm bowed respectfully, a blank look on his face. 

“Wiseass.” Rhomon huffed, giving the monk a side-eye before sealing the visor shut against his face. It was a one-eyed helmet, on account of he himself only having a single eye. Turning a knob on the side of his helmet to tighten the seal until his breathing became slightly stilted. Another turn of a different knob opened the tubing up to the canister in the back, which immediately flooded his helmet with citrus.

He coughed slightly. The scent of lemon-orange was slightly overpowering. “Right- I’ll be heading down now.” He declared with a nod.

Brahm and Shuri stared at him for a few moments.

“What?”

It was pretty hard to communicate through this helmet- Rhomon didn’t build it with speech in mind. A slight design flaw for what he was planning, but it should be fine. 

Bag of rocks and staff in hand, he stepped off the side of the boat, right into the middle of Thousand Dragons Lake.

His staff, filled with sorcerous fire, was not extinguished upon contact with the water. Instead a flurry of angry bubbles rose from where the fire boiled away nearby water, and a dim firelight illuminated his rapid descent into the murky, mysterious lake. 

Bubbles spilled out from the bottom of his helmet as he fell through the dark waters, additional air being forced through the seal around his neck. This was intended design, as the air freshener in the canister never stopped producing fresh air, so it needed a way to relieve pressure without exploding his head.

One thing he did not prepare for, however, was just how fucking cold it was getting as he descended. His entire body shivered and he swung the staff down, letting the boiled bubbles splash against his chest as he fell. The warmth from the supernatural flame on the tip of his staff wasn’t quite enough to completely offset the chilly waters, but it was enough to get by.

“My nipples are like fucking icepicks right now.” He grumbled as his feet finally landed on the soft, muddy bottom of the lake. All around him was murky water, almost impossible to see through. The glow of his staff let him get a glimpse of about fifteen feet around, and an uncertain picture of about fifteen feet past that. 

The single-eye viewing port didn’t make things easier, but at least the shard of glass he bought to be the viewing window was from Chiaroscuro and thus, magically durable. Chiaroscuro was a ruined city from the first age, encompassed by a giant glass dome that was long-shattered from ancient weaponry. Fragments of this glass were collected and sold to make various things, usually razor sharp blades. 

Prince Laxhander was more than happy to part with a hunk of it upon request. The visible benefits of having a local rich guy like you. Ducking the parties that the other dragonblooded tried to invite him to was a bit more annoying.

He paused his walking, crouching down to inspect the slope of the lake bottom. The place he was looking for should be roughly in the center, at the lowest point in the lake, hidden from the ages by the fact that it was at the bottom of a murky lake. 

After checking his direction again, he rose and got to walking, using his staff to push off the bottom and a wide stance to prevent himself from sinking into the mud. The canister and bubble of air on his back and head kept trying to make him float up, but the bag of rocks in his hand was weighed to counteract it.

He was on the hunt for a particular building down here, though he hadn’t told either of his companions about it. A building that contained a particular individual, who he was looking to talk to.

Unfortunately, from what hazy memories he had of her, she was pretty paranoid at the moment and would likely-

-A shark brushed past him, well within the tolerances of his warding talisman, covered in rough skin. He froze briefly, before steadying himself and flipping his staff around, slipping the rope around his elbow to free his hand. 

He steadily moved on, deeper and deeper into the murky lake across its bottom, eye vigilantly roaming. He didn’t know much about sharks, but what he did know is that they normally didn’t attack humans, and if they tried you could always-

A shark, the same or a different one, rapidly approached, jaws gnashing. He let go of his staff and raised his hands.

Palm firmly on the nose, other palm low, he twisted and pulled its nose down towards the lakebed.

The shark froze up as it was suddenly pointed downwards, floating listlessly in the water, held up by his hands.

Rhomon swallowed nervously, then chuckled in adrenaline-fueled amusement, slowly letting go of the shark to retrieve his staff. He didn’t know the exact science behind it, but sharks were uniquely vulnerable to being put in this sort of state. Something in their brain makes them freeze up if they were forced into it.

“Get rotated, fool.” Rhomon chuckled with faux-maliciousness, backing away from the shark and onwards towards his destination. The shark continued to hover there, nose down towards the lakebed, as relaxed as a giant predatory fish could be. 

Were sharks fish? He actually didn’t know off the top of his head. 

“Now- if I were a giant underwater manse, where would I be..?” He asked, bubbles trailing up from his watery path. He held his staff out ahead, illuminating the way and making odd small beasts like crabs and smaller fish scuttle away. 

There was an entire wagon wheel down here too. He poked it with the base of his staff, making a few smaller creatures flit away. Curious little dudes. He moved on, eye roaming about for any other sharks that might roam close. 

A heavy current suddenly pressed against him, washing over him and nudging him several feet to the side. He froze, feet sliding across the mud, bubbles rising from his staff. A long, slow rotation with his staff held out revealed nothing in particular. 

Oh course, being that this was incredibly murky water, it was nearly impossible to tell. He slowly reached up to his neck, tugging off a stone with a symbol carved with a word in Old Realm. Old Realm was a pictographic language with words made of increasingly complex little symbols, symbols that looked like weird little monster dudes stacked up on each other. 

The word he had carved meant something like ‘diplomacy’ or ‘meeting of foreign powers’. He kept it raised before him like a priest holding a crucifix against a vampire, making sure to hold it in the light of his bubbling staff, rocks looped around his arm. 

Another loop around, finding nothing, he slowly started forwards again. The cold water made him shiver uncomfortably with every step, but an uncomfortable layer of sweat built up on his brow regardless. 

It was good that he wasn’t a coward, otherwise this would be way harder than it-

Another heavy current pushed him forwards, making his feet slide across the mud and lifting him off the bottom briefly. He flailed momentarily, hopping on one foot to steady himself, and then wheeling around with staff held out. 

Nothing but murky water. 

His face fell flat. “Okay, now I know someone is messing with me on purpose.” He mumbled through breaths filled with citrus. He turned and resumed walking, down and down along the muddy bottom. 

A great current swept him off his feet, sending him tumbling through the water. He cursed, limbs flailing as he gripped the bag of rocks, trying his best to-

A great shape sped through the water. His virtuous guardian of flame twisted to life, taking on the shape of a burning shield.

The dark blur smashed through the fire, scattering it about and smashing into him. He wheezed as claws clutched down around his form, pinning his arms to the side. He was tossed about again, head thrashing in the water before being subject to heavy current.

He strained against the current, pulling his head up- it was like trying to look forwards while riding a rollercoaster. The shape holding onto him- an immense taloned claw, bestial and rough-scaled. It was connected to an arm of some fashion, and then a shoulder, and then a long and sinuous body. Something vaguely like a shark or otter or sea reptile, but nothing like any of those things. 

And the faint gleam of silvery patterns traced themselves across its form.

He smiled nervously, even as his brows creased with fear. 

He had found what he was looking for.

—

He rolled across the stone floor, sliding up to the base of wide, short stairs leading deeper into a marbled hall filled with waterfalls and faintly gleaming lamps. His back impacted the stairs roughly, and his helmeted head clanged against the stone. His vision swam with disorientation.

A heavy impact sent vibrations through the stone. He clutched onto his staff with a white-knuckle grip, reaching up with his other hand to grab at his helmet and steady himself. The sudden movement and shifts- he took a moment for sight to return to his eye, and to blink the stars out.

A shadow fell across him. He stilled, staring at the clawed feet of the immense creature that had grabbed him and drug him here. Slowly, respectfully, he set his bag of rocks and diplomatic rock down, lifting the hand to turn the knob on the side of his head. 

His helmet slackened with a little hiss, and he gently removed it from his head and set it to the side, still looking down at the floor. Wide-eyed, shaking limbs, and dripping wet. 

“H-hello.” He said in his best Old Realm. Eyes low- eye contact is a challenge. The last thing he wanted right now was to challenge the monster before him to a fight. 

There was no verbal reply, only a shifting in the claws that dragged themselves across the marble floor. The claws were not quite raptorial, not quite mammalian, but something in between that and layered with sharkskin. 

Somehow, that shifting of the claws conveyed a very precise question. He knew exactly what was being ‘said’ without words ever coming into it. 

‘How did you find this place?’

“I found this place- and you- through a combination of… unwitting prophecy, guesswork, and luck.” He replied, staying low but shifting his position into a proper kneel. “I came to provide warnings, trade information, and make a request. I- I can leave if you demand it.”

Silence greeted him. The monstrous paws began to pace around him, each one decorated with three claws that were individually as long as he was tall, and gleamed silver. Spiralling lines of silvery-blue dragged themselves up along these monstrous appendages, disappearing beyond what he was willing to let his gaze follow. 

A heavy, coarse voice full of the rust of disuse replied. It boomed through the hall and rolled down against him. Neither feminine nor masculine, simply monstrous. “Warning? You seek to warn me? Against what? Do you even know what I am, intruder?” 

Rhomon swallowed. He did, indeed, know who she was. She was the entire reason he came down here. “You’re- I don’t know your name, but… You’re a Lunar Exalted. Chosen of Luna. From the Usurpation.” 

“From before.” The great monster circling him growl-hissed. “What do you know, intruder, of what came before? Do you simply parrot fragments your masters don’t wish for you to know, scion of civilization?”

Rhomon considered how to answer that. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

The great monster that circled him was patient as he thought of how to reply.

Eventually, he settled on repetition. 

“Once, the Primordials ruled the world, and played the Games of Divinity.” He began with a slow nod. “The Gods were their servants, and Mortals were their crop. The Gods grew tired of this in time, and the King of the Gods proposed rebellion.”

The pacing claws stopped somewhere behind him. 

“The Primordial Autochthon, Great Maker, and the Primordial Gaia, Mother of Creation, sided with the Gods. The gods were bound by geas to not rise against the Primordials, and so Autochthon took the essences of powerful gods and Gaia and distilled them into the Exaltations, and set them off to choose worthy mortals to uplift into champions.”

“The Exalted were the Solars, Lunars, Sidereals, and Dragonblooded. They overthrew the Primordials, winning the war for the Gods, and were rewarded with Creation as their domain.”

He slowly stood to his feet, confidence rising as he recounted ancient history that no one remembered. “While most of the defeated Primordials were imprisoned, several were slain, and as they fell they uttered curses against the Gods. When Sol, King of the Gods, parried their grave curse, it sought out and bound itself to their servants instead.”

“The Great Curse took root within all Exalted at that moment. Invisibly resting within the hearts of their power, slowly twisting and subverting them all into wicked parodies of themselves, with none being the wiser to its presence. A slow, subtle descent that begins at the moment of their Exaltation.”

The great claws that flanked either side of him flexed once, another unspoken message being conveyed by their flexing. 

‘And how do you know this?’

“Tell me, Lady Lunar. What would you do if you knew the future?” He asked, turning around, finally working up the courage to stare at the immense monster that loomed over him. Something between a tiger, shark, otter, or something else. Predatory but sleek, adapted for swimming but fully capable of stalking the land. Only the light of his flame and the faint glow of the beast’s silvery tattoos illuminated its immense, shadowed bulk. 

Three eyes shone in the darkness, glaring down at him without any clear pupils. 

The form rolled and shifted, collapsing in on itself like a tower with its base removed. Flesh shrank and then twisted up and then folded against itself.

A nude woman rose from the equivoque rolling of flesh. Her long, blue-gray hair fell in one solid curtain, clasped together by a bauble near her knees before suddenly spreading out again, a cropping in the center giving the vaguest impression of a wide fin at the end of a long tail. Her skin was a dark grey shade, covered in rippling lines of silvery-blue tattoos that brought the impression of waves to mind. 

She wore trinkets of bone and teeth, a pair of predatory-jaws around her neck, with leather cords carrying individual teeth, claws, and fingerbones. Her hands ended in sharp, clawed digits, as did her legs.

Her face maintained its three-eyed state, even as full lips grew across sharp teeth, briefly flexing and shifting in experimental fashions. 

She was very beautiful, in the monster-girl sorta way. 

“I’m listening.” She said in accented High Realm. It was a kind of smoky tone that naturally accented itself with husky flavors. 

He blinked, then his features fell into a flat expression. “You could speak High Realm the whole time?” He asked dryly.

“Your Old Realm is atrocious. I will not torment myself by hearing any more of it.” 

He thought he saw a flash of a smirk come across her new lips before it disappeared again.