Archon Keepers

[JW%]

His head was pounding. Or maybe the was the sound of the surf. He blinked a few times, coughing. His mouth felt dry and the coughs hurt his ribs. Had he been vomiting recently? His eyes felt crusted over, and his hands were covered in sand. He probably had been vomiting. Drank a little too much seawater on the swim to shore. Right? The sky was dark and moody, as though a storm had swept through, and the beach was rock littered and uneven, but showed signs here and there where things could get caught in a tide pool or against some rocks were signs of ship wreckage. The tide was just going out by his guess.

What had happened? Looking around it seemed that he had swum to shore from a shipwreck, but he couldn't remember anything clear besides the throbbing in his head. Had he hit something on the swim over? Why had he abandoned ship in the first place? Because of the storm? He remembered danger, a threat to himself and everyone else with him, but trying to put a precise image to that threat failed him.

Well, he wasn't going to get anywhere just laying on the beach, right? He rolled himself to his knees and let out a groan and another sputtering cough. His muscles were tired in ways he didn't know they could be. For a few moments he wondered if it was worth getting to his feet, since he knew he'd be dizzy getting up, but then he decided that it would be better to get to his feet than to remain here on his hands and knees, rocks digging into his knees and his beard dragging in the sand. So he pulled himself up, putting one foot and then the other underneath him as he stood. The wave of dizziness staggered him and the weakness in his limbs told him to sit back down again, but he knew he should get away from the water.

"Hey! Hey you, dwarf!" It was a young melodious voice came over the sound of the crashing waves and other sounds of crashing and shouting that seemed to be far off. Something about that voice grated against his nerves, like it's familiar and unwanted. But he couldn't quite place it. Maybe because it was calling him a dwarf, though he didn't think that was an insult, in fact he took pride in it as part of his self identity.

The boy had almost purple hair, and was tall and thin. His outfit looked almost like a uniform with shoulder epaulets done up in an attempt to mimic gold. "Hey, are you alright?" The boy said and something in the tone told the washed up survivor that this was an elf.

"I'll live." He croaked out.

"Right, sorry." The elf nodded. "I'm Gabriel." A distinctly feminine name, or at least that's how the boy pronounced it to the dwarfs ears. "What's your name?"

"Ah..." The dwarf considered for a moment and found himself somewhat facing a blank. That brought a surge of panic to him. He'd forgotten his own name? How'd that happen? Maybe if he said it out loud it would come out naturally. "Me name's..." He blinked. There it was, right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't remember it. Started with a certain sound. "Wallcrest." That sounded about right.

"You got blasted by that Cursed dragon, didn't you?" Gabriel asked. "It was some kind of mind blast, made everyone confused, vulnerable to attack. Most of the city was alright, but the ships out in the bay..." He trailed off, it was clear that the ships had been easy prey for a large flying beast. "You'll be alright... there's a fire further up the path. You'll feel better dried off. Warm hands warm your heart, as my sister used to say. You might want to look along the beach for anything that might be yours while you head up there, even if it's just a chunk of drift wood. There's shambling cursed about, zombies and skeletons and we don't want them massing on our flanks while we're fighting the main push. We'll have to break the siege of the city before you can get safely inside the walls of Iaconia."

"Right, right." Wallcrest gestured dismissively, taking stock of what he actually had on him. His light cotton shirt and torn cotton pants made him feel almost naked for some reason, as though despite how weary he was from the swim, he needed to feel a weight on his body. Did he wear armor often? Fat chance any of THAT would have washed up. He noticed that Gabriel at least had a sword at his hip.

"You head up that way, see the trail?" Gabriel gestured back the way the boy had come, and Wallcrest nodded. "I'll look over the beaches a bit more. If you managed to make the swim, maybe others did. I'd hate to think every ship that was hit lost all hands, right?"

"Aye." Wallcrest sighed, glad to get away from the elf. Elves were like the annoying cousin that just wouldn't shut up and go away, only taller and prettier. Damn elves. "Thanks for your help, I guess."

"Just doing my duty, think nothing of it." Gabriel nodded. "Take care of yourself, and luck be with you."

The two parted ways as Wallcrest headed to where all the other survivors were being gathered, a small militia camp just off the beach. He hoped maybe the secret of his identity would be explained, but somehow he doubted it. He felt like he was a very long way from home...

[JW%]

The beach side camp fire was surprisingly dour. Oh, there was a cheerful fire ablaze, and a few quick commanders tents set up, but the people sitting around the fire when Wallcrest trudged up the edge of the coast, where the sand gave way to grass.

He gave a nod the watchmen, who had obviously seen him coming from some distance away and hadn't reacted until the nod, which they returned.

"Shipwreck survivor?" The big burly man in a slightly more decorated uniform than the watchmen asked. Wallcrest nodded.

"Aye. Some elf Gabriel told me to check in here. Names Wallcrest."

"Glad to have you. Corporal Philip at your service." The corporal introduced himself. "We're currently watching the flanks while the main force deals with the attack."

"Heard something about a cursed dragon." Wallcrest looked around the campfire and saw what looked like a Huldra and a Kappa both working their own cauldrons to make some kind of stew for the camp. Iaconia tried to remain urban, keeping itself above petty racial feuds, but from the looks of the two cooks there was at least some religious rivalry. The Huldra was invoking the power of her goddess Frig to make a hearty meal, while the Nilbog had a large stirring ladle and was calling on his god Dagda to do the same.

"Draco-lich." One of the watchmen, a dark skinned human, said glancing up and then turning her attention back to the field of tall grass and the trees beyond.

"We managed to kill it when it came to the town where our wizards in the towers could strike back at it." Philip explained. "Right now we're keeping watch not just for any shambling corpses to come out of the forest there, but anything to come up out of the waves.

"Have a few Silkie and Merfolk living in the shallows and by the docks. They'll try to salvage what they can from the shipwrecks, after they're sure there's no skeletons walking the sea floor to attack. What kind of gear did you have before you got hit?"

Wallcrest considered for a bit, but all he got was a fog. He had some visions of things that made no sense, like an entirely different life before the dracolich had mindblasted his ship. Instead he went with what came naturally. "A shield." He said almost on instinct when he thought about what he would need. "Big one, round and solid. And some heavy armor."

"We'll see what comes out of the waves. You might be able to help us if a fight breaks out. Right now, get yourself some chow." He gestured over at the otherwise attractive woman with the big nose and barklike skin, and the short old man with greenish skin and floppy ears. The scents from their pots were starting to smell really good, even after the toll the sea took on him. Wallcrest nodded and headed towards the fire.

[JW%]

Wallcrest was eating his fill of the two different kinds of stew the cooks had made. Both of them had taken it as an insult that he mix the two, and he'd liked that just fine. Besides, one of them was far too spicy for his taste, and the other a bit too thick and heavy, like trying to eat paste. Mixed together he figured it was better.

A few more survivors of the ships had been found and made their way to the camp. The latest one being a tall man with tightly trimmed dark beard. He looked like he could almost pass for a human, but his ears were pointy and the way he moved... another elf. He was wearing a blue skull cap that hid his hair and blue tunic that hung low over what looked like tights. Silly way to dress Wallcrest thought to himself, but something about it said that this elf was a wizard of some sort. What exactly blue clothing, or perhaps that particularly silly outfit, screamed wizard Wallcrest didn't know, but there was something.

"We're going to have to move soon." Corporal Philip said, after a talk with a runner. "They say that the front is shifting our way, and we need to pull back to the city. If anyone here has any fighting experience, get yourselves ready to help out, we're moving out hopefully at dawn, unless those zombies manage to catch up to us, in which case we move when we move."

There was some grumbling, as most of the survivors didn't have anything but the cloths on their back at the moment. The wizard however seemed to have something in mind. He found himself a patch of sand and sat down in a meditative position as Wallcrest watched. The wizards two hands came together as though in prayer, and then he pulled them apart, a strange softly glowing object appearing between them and floating there. It looked like a blue crystal, the way the light only partially caught it, the way you could see through the shape. But it was also square. Or rather made up of squares. Each side was a square made up of nine squares, and the whole thing was a cube. Floating in the space between the wizards hands as he studied it thoughtfully.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wallcrest asked.

"I think I'll need a weapon soon." The wizard replied, and scooped up a handful of sand. For a moment he studied it, then he poured it into the shifting and rotating cube with a swirling gesture. He took a moment to study the sand as it was floating within the cube. He reached out and twisted a side of the cube. Inside the sand twisted and changed and he considered it again.

"And you're making some kind of dagger outta sand?" Wallcrest asked.

"Glass." The wizard corrected absent mindedly as he poured another handful of sand into the cube. "And not a dagger. An orb I can focus spells through. I need only invoke my patron god, offer the materials in it's construction as sacrifice and focus my thoughts by adjusting the shape of the cube."

"Ah." Wallcrest said thoughtfully. He watched the wizard working for a bit and then stomped off, as if to relieve himself behind a tree.

The wizard, known as Windsailor, worked for awhile before he released his concentration. A smoky glass sphere dropped out, and then levitated up and floated around him, just above his left shoulder where it would be easy to grab, a fast draw spell focus.

And then Wallcrest walked back, holding what could charitably be called a shield. It looked sort of like he had found a fallen oaken tree branch and broken off the stump the branch was attached to.

"Is that your shield?" Windsailor asked.

"Yup." Wallcrest nodded. "That cube thing works pretty well. It's how I managed to get the arm straps in." In addition to the branch he was holding the shield by, there were also straps that seemed to be grown into the stump that he had around his forearm.

"The Hypothetical Framework?" Windsailor asked, trying not to show surprise that the dwarf could work such magics. In theory anyone could use it to craft whatever they wanted, but in practice only the truly gifted could master the art.

"Yeah. That." Wallcrest nodded. "Who's got first watch? Need my rest before I bust some undead skulls with this baby."