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month record rogue 4 2 1
'I'm serious. Out of all the Children of Soil and Stone I've met before, you're the stoniest of the lot.'
'In here.' The voice added.
'Where?'
'In your head! Look, I know I don't have a body, or arms, but surely you can use context to figure out where I'm pointing. Your imagination! Use it!'
Inside her heavy work clothes, Mudrock reaches out to touch the inner wall of the pipe, visualizing the flow of energy in her mind, and searching for the optimal place to interrupt it.
The voice ranting and raving inside her head is a revenant, one of the Sarkaz's ancient ancestors. According to him, he had a 'fated encounter' with her. But as Mudrock sees it, ever since she ran into him in Nymph's ritual, she has been plagued by his incessant nagging every time she goes into the Furnace.
The revenant is attached to a piece of slag within the Soul Furnace, burning himself away to provide power to the city. Mudrock does not wish to risk incurring the wrath of Kazdel's higher-ups by taking that piece out of the fire, so there is nothing she can do to appease the voice.
'Ever since I heard your stories, I knew you have the most barren imagination among all of them. You can't even use the inherent power of the furnace properly. What a wretched existence.'
'We connected the furnace nodes to our homes with pipes. They keep us warm every day.'
'The heat's just a by-product! You've seen what this furnace can conjure up! You need only picture them! Come, perform that ritual again; I'll demonstrate.'
'If I do, will you be satisfied?'
It's hardly any trouble at all. Mudrock still remembers how it was conducted, so performing it again is a simple matter for her. Just recreate the altar, re-enact the rites. The Lord of the Liches and the other Kazdelian bigwigs have no idea she possesses this particular talent.
'Oh... You did it, I can feel it. Good. Okay, uh, repeat after me: The Sarkaz enter an empty room.'
'The Sarkaz enter an empty room.'
The image-creating witchcraft within the Furnace activates, just as it does when Nymph and the others tell their stories here. The metallic interior of the pipe and the Originium lamps above gradually fade from Mudrock's vision, leaving her in darkness.
'Next, say: a white light illuminates the room they're in.'
As Mudrock repeats his words, the room is filled with a white light of unclear origin, illuminating every nook and cranny.
'...Impressive. This sort of thing never happened for the last two hundred years we've been roasting in here—*cough* *cough* Now, tell me, what do you want?'
'I want to get back to work. Amiya asked me to seal off the pipe by the end of the week.'
The illusion flickers a few times as the revenant lets off another tirade.
'Just work with me here! Gah!
'Listen, I need your help to do some testing. This is for Kazdel's sake!'
'...Fine. Make it quick.'
'Repeat after me—Wait, no, I should test something else first—Okay, ask me 'what do you want'.'
Yes, this could work, the revenant thinks.
'...What do you want?'
'Hmph, well—
'Guns. Lots of guns.'
Mudrock is buried beneath a flood of firearms of every make and model. A flood that fills the entire room.
