The Ironbound Keep, Where Seven Meet

Ah, the Clans. Perhaps the most intriguing of the open nations[1], in all their proud yet conflicting traditions and methods. Even keeping in mind these are essentially seven sub-nations in one, as competitive as ever in spite of their ample cooperation to present a single front to the caverns, the Bannerbound’s ways can be quite baffling to others. Even I’ll admit to being taken by surprise every now and then, be it by clashing tendencies I did not expect or simply unusual methodologies… and alterations, admittedly, seeing their unevenness goes down to their very biology.

Yet, as I said, they do what they can to present one front to the caverns, to every other nation that might want what they’ve got one way or another. Their territories are open to one another, in spite of every rivalry, and an attack on one is an attack on all, to be answered as such [2]. And even as their divisions remain and are enforced at every turn, their unity is similarly reinforced, Bannerbound one and all under a single flag, even if that flag may be made from seven others. Each pulling double duty of being a proud member of the Clans as a whole, and a proud member of their own and none other, no matter how contradictory it may seem at times to those outside it all.

Nowhere is this more apparent, and better symbolized, than in the Ironbound Keep, the very nucleus of the Clans’ territories, the one city that (officially) belongs to all seven at once.

It starts with the very name, in fact: Research on their pre-Refuge mythology showed me that there was no single Ironbound Keep back in the Peaks, and it was instead the name of a class of fortification of immense size, meant to be unassailable and the true staking of a claimed territory by a Clan. If an Ironbound Keep was erected somewhere, they expected that no one would ever move them from that place ever again, no matter what assailed them. Thus, it’s only appropriate that one would be the crux of their nation in the Subterraneum, now that the Seven have to cooperate. They’ve taken to it enough that, by all measures I could find, this one is the single greatest of the Ironbound Keeps, both as a symbol of unity and as a message to everyone else in these caverns.

They found such a construction important enough that it’s one of the first things they did down here – or rather, got started on, seeing construction took almost a century, even as the city proper grew around a mountain of steel and stone that grew just a little every year. And of course, they found it important enough to name the then-town after said Keep before the foundations were even finished. To their credit, its walls fended off some fairly vicious raids before construction was even halfway done, so I can hardly call such a construction an act of hubris. And even now, with techniques in both siegecraft and defense having advanced so much, it stands as impenetrable as it did on day one[3].

And so, finding myself heading towards the city for the sake of a different project, I decided I may as well indulge, and have a closer look at what the Bannerbound consider the heart (and brain) of their nation.

Riding the train across the Gyre’s sands, the city itself pops into view quite suddenly; one moment it’s just the rolling dunes and plateaus that still stream with sand from the last storm, all with the faint background glow that lets you know this is no place to be caught bare in… and the next moment, after one last dune that looks just like the last hundred, there it is, a scant few minutes away! You find yourself looming over all the slanted, stilted structures that form its wind-battered architecture, with their roofs that are little more than singular slabs of sandstone, as the train lowers itself into the city proper…

And lower it does. The core of the city was built back when the Bannerbound weren’t quite so used to building on the sands themselves or the storms the Great Dust Gyre had to offer, and hadn’t quite developed the high-riding stilt architecture they’re known for nowadays. So they scoured the sand out until they found rock, and built there instead; they’ve kept it that way all these years, with all the old architectural styles, even if it means digging them out whenever a sandstorm lingers a little too long. The Bannerbound are nothing if not obstinate, after all, it’s one of the biggest reasons they yet exist in these depths. Even if sometimes that obstination manifests in such things as trying to imitate styles born from the use of timber[4] using the far more present stone and iron, with results going from the merely interesting to the genuinely absurd.

Which now makes for an interesting connection, seeing iron had to be far more scarce in their old land than it is here. Perhaps that’s why they felt so encouraged to go for broke with this Keep.

Nevertheless, the Ironbound Keep itself stands far above all other structures in the city, with both the old, blocky towers and the far slimmer ones that followed thoroughly outsized, especially in width. For the Keep itself is tall, yes, practically scraping the ceiling of the cavern with its myriad, fortified towers, but it’s the volume that truly impresses. Almost a whole city core by itself once you do the math, and even without such calculus it’s easy to see one could fit an entire town, respectably sized and populated, under its roof. And by its staffing requirements, the Banner-Bearers likely did exactly that in terms of numbers and habitation. Perhaps it served as a decent lesson in planning a city in all three dimensions, even back then…

Of course, if you can take your eyes off the Keep and architecture – a more difficult feat than you’d think – you’ll quickly notice the locals are quite a bit more varied around this place, with members of all seven Clans milling about in plain view. This may sound less than remarkable, before you realize this is the first time you can actually see sorts from all seven, at once, in one place (if not one eyeful). No matter where you arrive into the city, even in the very transport you take, it can be hard to see more than two sharing their place, with one or two members of the rest. The city itself is even more neatly divided, to the point you can pinpoint which block belongs to which Clan by architecture alone, and confirm it by sorting through the local pedestrians and noticing the clear majority[5].

On the other hand, the closer you get to the Keep, the less likely you are to find anyone that’s not of the Bannerbound. Tourists can only get so far, and other locals are quickly crowded out, with those that moved in often far more welcome with one of the Seven in particular rather than here. And once you’re at the Ironbound Keep itself, the only non-Bannerbound you see are entirely hypothetical; you’re left to wonder if any of the more eclectic shapes under the clothing are, in fact, a different kind of citizen and not just a particularly altered Bannerbound. You simply cannot know, at such a stage.

Fortunately for me, that goes for them as well. You announce who you are through attire and accessories, and they shall all believe you, as they do with everyone else. It’s the way of the Clans, whether you’re part of them or not. It’s only fitting that this applied twice over in the very heart of their nation, where the Seven must cooperate most, and thus where it’s the most important for them to know who is who.

And so, with my papers in relative order, and thankful I didn’t need to wear quite as much clothing as my Zau guise showed, I made my approach.

I will readily admit this was not one of my easier outings. Everyone knows the network of inter-Clan relations is something that’s already difficult to navigate, even to the Bannerbound themselves, but what they don’t tell you is that intra-Clan relationships and codes are a different beast entirely, hidden in the dark and waiting to pounce as soon as you tread in its territory. I found myself keeping away from “my” own Clan as much as I could without seeming suspicious, and getting far closer to the others instead[6], to their occasional surprise; all I could do was keep said surprise pleasant.

Of course, I foresaw this, which is why I took a route into the city that dropped me off at a Norrish quarter; their Banner demands focus, their helmets hardly offer much peripheral vision and they’re fairly distant from Zau, so I got to the Keep’s exterior with very few glances and fewer questions still. A few spikes of eccentricity to stay “in character” were more than enough to cover said questions in turn.

All bets were off in that regard once I made it there, as I mentioned, since every Clan gets equal representation. It was made even more difficult by the simple fact that standing before these enormous iron walls, staring up at their full height and realizing there are carvings in there[7], from top to bottom, with enough engraving space to get an entire library’s worth of history… it’s easy to forget you’re supposed to not be awe-struck, that this is something you’re assumed to see every time you wake. The novelty has long rubbed off for your eyes… Either that, or I just stared at it like a tourist would, and even through layers of disguise that slipped right through; it’s admittedly a very particular look. Either way, I was snapped out of my little trance by one of the guards – one from Vesnor, to be specific – who made a joke about how Zau never stop to look, that I might be the first one to actually care. All I could do was laugh at my own expense, and mutter that I thought I’d seen a figure I somehow missed every time…

Nevertheless, in I went, through smooth and steely doors that haven’t shut in well over three centuries. No history is written there, except perhaps in the scratches and gouges left by those who tried and failed to knock them down throughout the Keep’s existence. Marks of old axes, the dents of several battering rams, and one deep mark made by a seven-point claw at a thoroughly worrying height[8], were the biggest standouts in that regard.

Now, the outside of the Keep is impressive in an imposing, outright intimidating way, making the caverns know it shall not be broken, let alone moved. But the inside is where the Seven get to impress in terms of elegance, even if their design and architecture fight to stand out at times. Little in the way of statues and armors, mind you, the needs of the Keep demand the hallways stay wide open; the only sculpture I found was a single fountain thrice the height of most Bannerbound standing in the Great Hall, with the Seven that took the reins of what became the individual clans during the Refuge portrayed in fine marble around the rim. A little vainglorious, perhaps, but it’s only proper for a monument to the founders, especially when it’s the only such monument in the Keep.

However, it’s the walls and columns that truly offered the artists of the Clans a chance to ply their trade, with each telling their old stories in the depths of the corridors, and giving their own takes and points of view on the events they were later forced to share. The pillars themselves were both artwork and guiding marks, as each individual Clan’s wing had a different carving pattern to follow (quite helpful in finding one’s bearings if you’re not sure which wing you’re in), with abstract symbols sculpted together into the stone that holds them up. The walls, in turn, were left smooth, polished to a shine, but strung with hanging tapestries in the seven respective styles, depending on the wing. And these weren’t abstract in the least: Each of them bore a wordless scene upon it, with recurring figures marked by certain symbols having their stories told along each hallway. And these symbols repeated even between different wings, and different Clans, so that one that had walked enough of the Keep’s interiors could piece together the whole tangle of tales!

Ah, it would’ve been exciting, but I couldn’t linger that long. Not this time. For what I sought was far deeper in the Keep.

Indeed, rather than willingly and happily stranding myself across the Clans’ sub-domains, my search led me deeper in, and higher up. Ambling towards one of the central towers, taking any passages up I could find on the way, a meandering route that let me both avoid any groups, and make sure I didn’t linger in anyone’s sight for long. Just another Bannerbound passing by, surely in a hurry as Zau-bound often are, likely late to something with that sizable stack of papers in his hands[9]. Watching as the decorations that surrounded me became sparser, yet portrayed far more fundamental events, with each of the seven styles taking turns in telling their most ancient tales. Why, when I was truly closing in on what I came for I started to recognize some moments, some figures, from before their Refuge. Back when the Clans were seven nations, properly, in a world that now lies frozen. I will readily admit they slowed me down, even as I did my best to trudge forwards without looking, without giving myself away, without delay…

Unfortunately for me, I would not find what I was looking for. Instead, and with some frightening and inconvenient fortune, I found something – someone – else. I found myself in an encounter that I would leave without the secrets I came for, yet shoved many others into my unsuspecting hands.

There I was, rounding on one of the towers, briefly distracted by the legend that surrounded me[10], when I felt eyes on me. Lingering, and very persistent eyes. And even before I turned around, the sense one cultivates when avoiding pursuit for long enough, that little alarm in the back of one’s spine, was going off fiercely – enough that, thankfully, I realized it was a little late to run, and simply turned around, intending to play the clever fool… And, well, the sight before me, it made me realize I had been a genuine fool, in never noticing these particular hallways were far bigger than they needed to be, tall enough that a crowd of Vezarym could fly down them without issue and wide enough for a loaded train. In never stopping to think what this could mean.

The one staring me down was one of monumental stature, with barely any exaggeration on my part. Why, I’ve seen actual monuments ordered by prideful and even megalomaniacal rulers that were smaller than her. And comparing her with a statue was only proper, since the armor that covered her was all a manner of greyish, featureless stone almost like polished concrete, in great and thick angular slabs that looked like they should weigh literal tons, yet burdened her little. Her steps rattled the floor beneath me, slow but methodical, and as she made her approach I could see an unusual prosthetic where her arm should be, a four-pronged metal claw at the head of a greater contraption, with a spool of thick chain clearly visible inside it. And in spite of the helmet, I could see those ruddy eyes staring at me within, with just a glimpse of thick, scowling scarlet eyebrows above them…

Moldaf Scatterlimb. The Great Besieger, Titan of the Gyre, Pride of Clan Heese[11], Champion of the Clans and unofficial Bearer of the Seven Banners.

She got the first word, of course, pointing a finger that could flick my skull off at me and demanding to know what I was there for. None of the others I found before this, even shortly before her, made any such demands, so I can only guess she’s either more paranoid than the rumors say, or – more worryingly – she saw something was off from the very moment she laid eyes on me. I personally, and with some bias, lean towards the latter, whether it’s augments or simply an instinct, I got the feeling she saw past the surface of my guise. Thankfully not right past it – I would be a thin smear otherwise – but deep enough to start asking questions…

After quickly balancing intimidation, to seem naturally put off by an earth-shaking giant yet not actively scared (lest I give myself away), I answered that I was on official business, and then attempted to disorient her, even just a little, by starting to present the more complicated documents on my stack and asking a few questions on whether I could find certain individuals there (that I knew would be away). Throughout it all, I gauged my options, and adjusted them as I saw more irritation than any confusion in what little I could see of her expression. And thinking quickly, I turned deferent, and perhaps a little starstruck, and “admitted” with little detail that I had always found her an inspiration. After all, I was playing the part of a Zau-bound, standing before a monument to what the Radiance can achieve…

She scoffed at me, stopping just short from an outright glare. Of course I would say that, she muttered, sounding unpleasantly unsurprised. I only needed the slightest of pushes to get her to blurt out I was very, very far from the only (apparent) Zau that said such things, that admired her just for something she was born with and had thoroughly troubled her throughout the years. That felt like something to note, so after a bowed apology, I pushed ever so slightly, with an educated guess: Was it a matter of uneven growth, or simple physics reasserting themselves even against Radiance? For I had little idea – and this was true for mask and I alike – but one could still speculate. And while her answer was practically a blowoff, abrasively questioning how I could even think it was the former, it was still very much an answer I could use.

Rising from my apologetic bow, I mentioned how much harder the latter would be to deal with than any kind of irregular growth. After all, her sheer size would mean she might well be crushing herself under her own weight at all turns; the laws of physics aren’t generous to those trying to upscale. But surely the Clans found a way to steer the Radiant changes towards something better, something reinforced, so that she wouldn’t just keep going until she crumbled into a pile of broken bones. And beyond that, still! Something glorious had to be done to turn something that’s practically an ailment into the foundations of a true champion of the Seven! Oh yes, I laid it on thick, letting my (supposed) starstruck state overtake all the rest, push me into outright fawning. Unwise, but provocative enough to move things along, I thought…

And move things along it did, just not quite in the direction I expected.

She did not strike a triumphant pose, though I got the feeling she wanted to. Still, she took the triumphant tone in telling me I was right, but it was strangely marred. Uncomfortable in a particular way, the way of liars that would rather not be so. I could tell, a stone-faced (pun not intended) champion like her could hide it from most in the city, but not from me… so then came the matter of sifting for the lie itself, for its size and shape, so that one could find the truth hiding right behind it. So I kept going, fawning a little more, in order to buy time for a better idea, and perhaps push this potential, awkward guilt (for lack of a better word) a little deeper. Glory to the Seven and all that, that would never let one of their own even across Clan lines suffer like that under the Radiance. And then it came to me: Out of impulse, on a patriotic whim of my mask, I went and ask her if it’d been Zau that had aided her so, that had ensured her body would be grown in such a way that it wouldn’t crumble under its own weight.

And I struck a nerve with that. Silence stretched after that, as she glared at me and I shrank under her to keep up the act. Her answer, once she mustered it, was a calm, but very resounding “No” with little in the way of elaboration. And yet… it was both a Zau-bound’s job and mine to continue to be curious, and wouldn’t it be good to bridge between Clans by learning which one made sure she could become the Besieger? So my mask would’ve thought. And so I straightened out again, and innocently asked if it had been Norrish, armoring her within and without, or perhaps Heese, as it was only appropriate – and besides, with devices like theirs, they had to know plenty! Or perhaps not. Perhaps Sofize knew something, and this was a little more esoteric than I thought! Ah, I whipped myself up into a frenzy of speculation, so easily distracted I’d pretend to be that a jumping, zig-zagging thought process could come out loud, just like that. I wasn’t just feigning interest, I was showing it! I’ll admit, I crept into the mindset almost too well…

And then, a twist, a quick chance to take now that I seemed so wrapped up in hypotheticals. I got back up, and went to take a quick but deep look at her prosthetic, at the claw that had torn down entire castles… I was putting myself inches away from death, I knew it, but it was hardly the first time I’d been there. All in the guise of praising the expertise involved, with a direct example! Who wouldn’t take the chance for a little inter-Clan unity? Some exaltation of the Seven, knowing she represented them all?

And what I saw… threw me off. It threw me off enough that I forgot about my mask, forgot my initial objective, forgot all of it, and just grabbed the machinery for a closer look, a closer dive, barely keeping enough attention on the rest of her as I got too close for comfort…

Already there was something about the materials that was meshing in ways I didn’t like, to my eyes, my mind, and other perceptions of mine. I could notice it up close. The outside was as expected, but the shafts, the motors, all that would be most strained when reeling in, when her monstrous strength would tear stone and steel apart, they were alloys I knew the Clans rarely have. All shining, all silvery, rather than the brassy tones one is used to here. That’s what hooked me, what sparked this… foolhardy dive into the topic. What practically made me stick my head in between the metaphorical gears. And then, a hunch guided me as I practically hoisted myself onto the prosthetic, and even her booming voice didn’t rattle me enough to get me out. I got as close as I could to the point of connection, where metal joined flesh, the part that’d need the most expertise to actually achieve, and knowing she’d be pulling me out in moments, I touched the metaphorical seam…

...and as my facade faltered just so I could take the deepest look I could, as whispered to myself the puissant words I’d need, I saw it, felt it. The alloys used, the type of insertion, the way the energy flows were arranged, all signatures by themselves. And guided by reflex, by the recognition sparked by what I already saw, I turned my eyes deeper, to an exact spot beneath flesh and stone, where only sights like mine could pierce. The Sodden-Silver[12] glittering in my sights should’ve been an indicator by itself, nothing else would’ve meshed so well with a body, to the point of being outright welcomed into her very bones. But that could’ve been taken, or simply traded in a lesser deal, it’s just metal after all. The true giveaway was deeper in, right where the radius would usually begin. A symbol. A signature of sorts to confirm the patterns I saw.

Two elongated triangles meeting at the bottom, like the needle on a compass, hidden right beneath the meeting between her nerves and the augment’s wires.

The Lodestone Sage.

Of course, she almost swatted me, I backed off but a single moment before she could smear me over the nearest wall. The breach of personal space alone should’ve gotten me killed, and I will not begrudge her that. I cannot begrudge Moldaf anything, in all honesty. I doubt she just walked North until she found a vault and knocked on it, willing to pay any price to fix her pains. So I told myself, as I apologized with a stutter, and just fled, throwing away all pretense as she thankfully prioritized raising the alarm rather than simply chasing me down… she would’ve caught me. Once her pursuit began she damn near did, she’s frighteningly quick even under a mountain of (apparent) stone. But even the inner walls of the Keep weren’t made to contend with Moldaf Scatterlimb at a dead sprint, so one tight turn around a corner later, one her boots had no traction to stop, I had an escape route readily made, one she could not follow as I threw myself off the hole she’d made and disappeared into the dark, leaving the alarms and her threats well behind. Without even thinking of looking back at her, or the Keep, or at the city as I fled…

…Custodial dealings, at the heart of it all. It lingers in my mind still, after catching me so deeply by surprise. With this tale, I’ve already given away that, at some point, the Clans (or at least Clan Heese) must have made some kind of accord with the Tower, in order to get the damned Lodestone Sage of all people to put her steely claws to work on this issue. It must’ve been a conundrum she would’ve been happy to tackle for free, yet her ego just wouldn’t allow her to leave things be, and she went and stamped her signature in her work. In her.

But I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Not when talking about someone who manages to keep an ego like hers after shedding so much of her very own body in favor of one she built herself. Even I am not sure what she once was, and I could perfectly see her liking it that way, making sure the world knows her only for the body she built from scratch rather than the one she was born in. No, of course she’d sign it. It’s one of her masterpieces, the world has to know it’s hers, doesn’t it? Even when she’s done it for free, just for the challenge, even just out of whatever goodness is left in her long-discarded heart, she just had to sign it. And she’s probably laughing now, as she reads this, finally someone found it! Finally someone recognizes it was her! Finally the world can settle doubts it should’ve never even had!

Yes, thinking deeper, the conundrum alone would’ve been payment enough for her. But the Tower? They won’t let this slip unpaid, believe me, that wouldn’t be like them at all. I know them, they latch their hooks deep and promise the very worst for those who’d try to be free of them. At least one Clan is indebted to them now, with all it could mean. Be it secrets slipped, be it an intervention on their behalf, or perhaps the lack of one, forced to repay it by standing back and watching helplessly instead of taking action. I do not know. Perhaps it’s even been paid already, or perhaps it’s piled on further interest still, I do not know that either. Not yet. And so, I’m afraid, I, and the caverns at large, must consider one of the Seven is unfortunately compromised, if not all of them.

I know what some of you will say, that perhaps it’s not so. That a mere operation like this, to aid someone, cannot extract too high a price. That curiosities and even altruism would play a part, especially knowing the Sage herself would’ve done this herself. I am not convinced of such. I cannot even see what’d convince me of such, right now. That’s not how the Tower operates. The Sages may have their agendas, their quirks and oddities, but the ones in charge are as cold-hearted as it gets. Theirs is the sort of vile “pragmatism” that comes up with atrocities malice alone cannot even conceive, and sees them as necessary. They simply don’t do altruism, they just don’t. They’re holding it over the Clans’ heads as I write, I assure you, waiting only for the right chance to bring it down upon their heads when it would further their blasted plans the most, no matter who else gets caught in it. I guarantee you they would gladly have Moldaf sent to what they knew was certain death without so much as flinching; this being the price for aiding her in the first place, this cruel irony, would not even register as such. They would call it yet another “lesser evil” and move on to the next without so much as glancing at the bloody consequences.

I apologize for the above. I considered crossing it out and not including it in this publishing, but it felt like too much of an omission about matters I had to mention, even if I fail to be as objective as I’d like about the matter. Suppose you can all take it as a reminder that even with my own attempts, I am but one voice, with all the failings and biases that may imply. On my end, I may need to actively ponder what I otherwise wouldn’t, seeing how I eagerly barred myself from more than one conclusion, when in my field I should know better than anyone that unlikely doesn’t mean impossible.

And to my faithful readers, all I can do is apologize. I leave you now with what I’ve written, scratches and all, since I believe I’ve penned far more than I should on the matter. At least for today.

Yours truthfully, the Ever-Restless Nirrhamidh.

[1]As opposed to the occluded nations, which as far as I know (and I believe I would) include only two of the four hives, and none other. Contrary to what some would say, the Pact’s individual “halves” don’t count for this, you can clearly and openly visit them; those who’d call that “occluded” should try calling the Seven Clans individual nations, and see how such a claim turns out.
[2]Unless, of course, a given Clan started it, in which case they’re often on their own until matters enter Clan territory once more – but not always. Part of why the Seven’s relations with other nations and entities in the caverns are so flighty and more hostile than average is the inconsistency this can present; with Norrish, Issouf and Zau being nosy at best, outright larcenous and aggressive at worst, it can be tempting to retaliate thoroughly, yet it’s never clear what will get the others, especially the usually sedate Sofize and Vesnor, to come down like a cracked stalactite on the attempt.
[3]Century’s worth plus one. You know what I meant.
[4]Not the fungal timber we are all used to, mind you, though the more forward-looking Clans hardly have an issue using them instead. Rather, these pre-Refuge styles were born from actual wood, of the sort we only see in minute amounts in the ferns of more luminous or volcanic lands. I’m told the untamed West no nation has yet claimed bears far greater and sturdier logs of such, but I’ve not seen them for myself.
[5]Assuming, of course, you have the basic education to tell which Clan is which by their attire; they all cover themselves as thoroughly as they can, but each Clan sticks as best as they can to a given style. It’s the least you can do to learn the differences, it’s a minimum of respect to be paid, but I won’t get into it here; a decent travel guide will set you straight if you’re in a hurry, but I don’t recommend learning it the hard way. It’s embarrassing in the extreme in the best of cases.
[6]I will admit to finding some unexpected rapport with Vesh in particular. I usually relate to Zau’s relentless drive for self-improvement and the testing of barriers and law, but with intra-Clan relations involved this was only made harder, reaching uncomfortable extents at times. Vesh, however, showed some pleasant surprises, in that their drive to self-impose, to make sure you know who you are before ensuring the world around you cannot deny it, it had some unexpected resonances I found relatable, and even pleasant. And I suppose it helped that they saw a Zau making such attempts at bridging without shame, and approved of it. Also their fashion sense is admittedly enviable, much as I couldn’t go with bandages like those here.
[7]Not the sculpted, high-relief carvings of Voska, mind you. Rather, they’re very low relief to the point of being almost two-dimensional, indented lines into iron likely hammered in to paint the whole, unexpectedly-geometrical picture. Older Bannerbound styles seemed to have clashed enough that, for this first cooperative effort, they ended in a thoroughly blocky compromise that I rarely see replicated anywhere else. It’d look almost brutish anywhere else, but this is a fortress.
[8]I’ve yet to dig out the truth of what caused this one. There’s nine fairly-defined, yet utterly contradictory versions on when it happened, how it came to pass, and what manner of rampaging cthonic monstrosity left it there; all agree that the thing came from below, but descriptions vary so much I am genuinely considering the creature in question simply didn’t have a defined form.
[9]One part identification, two parts backing for my guise, and seven parts gibberish to be rewritten on the fly.
[10]I do wish I could specify, but if I ever intend to reach the original objective, I believe it’s best that I don’t give it away. Not so soon, at the very least.
[11]Particularly remarkable in that Heese has neither the militarized bent (or armor designs) of Norrish nor the propensity to especially wild Radiant alterations of Vesh and Zau, yet she’d be a perfect example of both. Presumably she saves the expected mask and hood for special occasions.
[12]One of the famous “silvery triad” of alloys that form the bulk of the Tower’s nonstandard and unique metallurgy, alongside Sallow-Silver and Searing-Silver. Known for being mildly cold to the touch and always looking, thanks to odd tricks of the light, like it’s been splashed with water, with plenty of lingering droplets that aren’t actually there. Sturdy, but quite yielding, and very useful for biotechnology since most bodies react to it like just another bone.