The Journal of Rafiq al-Rashid
As day broke and the sun crept over the structure, we began to see a change in the script that covered the doorway. Where before it was indecipherable, now three symbols stood prominently over the doorway which in common read out as “FIRE OPEN NOW”. As I stood there trying to unravel the riddle before us, the young boy Raouf strode forward and read the words aloud in a language I can only imagine to be Umbrian. No sooner had he finished the last syllable, the great stone doors began to slide inwards and we were met by a blast of heat beyond anything I had experienced.
Hours passed as we took turns trying to decipher a means of entry. Raouf had given up and returned with several coconuts which were well received, Shade was left constructing some kind of sail for reasons best known to himself, Pang and myself took cover under some trees to watch Maissa continue to throw various objects through the doorway out of little more than desperation.
The afternoon dragged on and the sun crawled across the sky until but a sliver of light fell over the trees and onto the stone doorway. With little more to do, we watched the light slowly disappear and as it did so the heat that emanated from within rapidly extinguished. Cautiously, we made our way into the darkness.
We made our way down a sloping corridor, dispatching several guardians on the way and came out to a large central chamber. Hulking clay men lined the walls for as far as the eye could see and in the centre, an assembly line ticked onwards. Unlike the heavy handed process of the clay men outside this process was more detailed, more organic. Crystals were collected from a central sieve and were passed down from automation to automation and in doing so, became more recognisable with each stop. By the end of the process, these rough glass crystals had become the clay men where after they were unceremoniously dumped in a lifeless pile. It seemed that like the clay men, this process had instruction but suffered a fault and was never corrected thus continuing to manufacture duds.
After some examination, one curious property of the crystals is that they seem to absorb either heat or magic. Small fire spells and cantrips are snuffed almost immediately, whereas my larger spells are consumed to the point of saturation. After which, the crystals violently expel the excess energy.
Despite my objections, it was made clear that such a factory cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. If someone like Wassim learned of it and were able to reactivate the clay men, he would have an army far greater than anything seen in the Caliphate. So Pang tossed a torch into one of the crystal piles and we made our escape. Behind us, the crystals began to glow with stored energy and one by one they hit total saturation. We were barely out the door before the explosion rocked the island, stone and debris came clattering down from the sky as we ran for cover.
The clay men around us had ceased their routine and began to congregate, shoulder to shoulder, around the building. I watched as the last one fell into place and, as one, the raised their faces to the sky and let out a deep droning cry. It echoed throughout the island, washing over the trees and almost deafening us in the process. While I scrambled to my feet, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prick up as a huge magical aura now engulfed the island’s interior. Overhead, black clouds began to form in what what once a clear azure sky, thunder crackled and lightning began to dance between them. Then it rained. It was a torrent of water, unrelenting until every inch of this area was soaked through.
We collected as much water as we could, in everything from waterskin to coconut shell. By now the flaming structure was smouldering and the golems had fallen into inactivity. Knowing there was nothing more for us here, we returned to the ship and once again set sail for Shushan.
Hours passed as we took turns trying to decipher a means of entry. Raouf had given up and returned with several coconuts which were well received, Shade was left constructing some kind of sail for reasons best known to himself, Pang and myself took cover under some trees to watch Maissa continue to throw various objects through the doorway out of little more than desperation.
The afternoon dragged on and the sun crawled across the sky until but a sliver of light fell over the trees and onto the stone doorway. With little more to do, we watched the light slowly disappear and as it did so the heat that emanated from within rapidly extinguished. Cautiously, we made our way into the darkness.
We made our way down a sloping corridor, dispatching several guardians on the way and came out to a large central chamber. Hulking clay men lined the walls for as far as the eye could see and in the centre, an assembly line ticked onwards. Unlike the heavy handed process of the clay men outside this process was more detailed, more organic. Crystals were collected from a central sieve and were passed down from automation to automation and in doing so, became more recognisable with each stop. By the end of the process, these rough glass crystals had become the clay men where after they were unceremoniously dumped in a lifeless pile. It seemed that like the clay men, this process had instruction but suffered a fault and was never corrected thus continuing to manufacture duds.
After some examination, one curious property of the crystals is that they seem to absorb either heat or magic. Small fire spells and cantrips are snuffed almost immediately, whereas my larger spells are consumed to the point of saturation. After which, the crystals violently expel the excess energy.
Despite my objections, it was made clear that such a factory cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. If someone like Wassim learned of it and were able to reactivate the clay men, he would have an army far greater than anything seen in the Caliphate. So Pang tossed a torch into one of the crystal piles and we made our escape. Behind us, the crystals began to glow with stored energy and one by one they hit total saturation. We were barely out the door before the explosion rocked the island, stone and debris came clattering down from the sky as we ran for cover.
The clay men around us had ceased their routine and began to congregate, shoulder to shoulder, around the building. I watched as the last one fell into place and, as one, the raised their faces to the sky and let out a deep droning cry. It echoed throughout the island, washing over the trees and almost deafening us in the process. While I scrambled to my feet, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prick up as a huge magical aura now engulfed the island’s interior. Overhead, black clouds began to form in what what once a clear azure sky, thunder crackled and lightning began to dance between them. Then it rained. It was a torrent of water, unrelenting until every inch of this area was soaked through.
We collected as much water as we could, in everything from waterskin to coconut shell. By now the flaming structure was smouldering and the golems had fallen into inactivity. Knowing there was nothing more for us here, we returned to the ship and once again set sail for Shushan.
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