Savage Awakening 500. Stellar Gravity (I)

A/N: 500 chapters! :D

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His crew closed in on the vehicle. A few prodded it with their shadow-blades.

“Do you know who I am?” said the man.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar,” said the dwarf, more stiffly this time.

“They call me Pretty Boy,” said the bandit. “Pretty Boy Kal.”

He grinned, his scars twisting nastily on his lip. “It’s ironic these days, I’m afraid… I had to kill the sheriff who gave me that name—he made the unfortunate choice of naming me this Dragonspire’s #1 Most-Wanted bandit, you see. He gave me this scar in return.”

“May I ask why you’ve stopped me?”

“It just so happens this sector you’re passing through belongs to me,” said Kal, eyes glinting. “You’re trespassing, dwarf. I’m sorry to say there’s a price for that.”

He snapped his fingers. Each of his goons pulled out a weapon—giant shards, smoking shadow, like two-sided greatswords made of the void itself. They drew vicious scratches in reality as they passed. The dwarf eyed them, looking troubled. “Name it. I’ll pay.”

Kal laughed at that. So did the rest of his goons. Zane felt a bit bad for the dwarf.

“I was not joking, sir!” said the dwarf, flushing.

“Mm. That’s clear enough,” said Kal easily. “Word to the wise, friend—never say such things to a bandit. ‘Name it?’ Now you’ve got me wondering… Just how much do you have to give? But I have a hunch I know exactly how much.”

Kal started making a slow circle around him, gloved hands clasped behind his back.

“A traveling dwarf artificer,” he mused. “Hitched to a loaded workshop. A plain vehicle, well-hidden from scrying, and well-made too. A long way from home. All the way in the Far Limits… but what for?”

He tapped his chin. “I seem to remember hearing of a meeting. An event of great import—a Summit with the creator himself, for which some of the brightest minds in this Galaxy and the next would travel. There’s only one of the dwarven race who could fit that criterion.”

The dwarf went quiet.

“Dormu, the Worldbuilder,” rasped Kal. His diamond tooth glinted in the poor light. “They say so long as he lives, dwarvenkind will never fall. Such are the might and majesty of his creations… a great inventor you might be. But you make a poor actor, friend.”

Kal, patting him on the back. “If it makes you feel better, you never had a chance. We knew you were coming long ago. Your brethren in the First Cities named their price first, I’m afraid… that’s what gives Monsters the edge over races such as ours, I suppose. Hatred unites them too well. We tear each other apart... Such a shame.”

One goon dragged a blade over an axle wheel, shattering it.

The pretty bandit shrugged, showing his hands—like it was out of his control.

“If you know who I am,” said the dwarf, bristling. “Then you know it is of grave importance what I’m doing here—to your race, and to mine! I must reach that summit. I must meet with Aiwe!”

“And you will!” said Kal. “It’d be a shame if a mind such as yourself perished here. You’ll just need to pay the toll, that’s all.”

“I told you to name your price.”

Kal flashed that pretty-ugly smile again.

“I want your workshop,” he said softly. “All of it. Every last one of those creations I’ve heard oh-so-much about… I must admit I’m quite a fan. There are bidders on the mainlands who’re even bigger fans than I.”

The dwarf scrunched shut his eyes—something about his expression made Zane think he knew it was coming. “Impossible,” he said.

Kal pursed his lips. Then—he jerked out a hand, scruffed up the dwarf’s shirt, reeled him in hard, until they were face-to-face.
“Let’s make one thing clear,” breathed Kal, grin widening. “You might be the shit where you come from, little man. You're not in your tin-pot palace anymore. This is human land, and here things get violent in ways you can hardly imagine… I would choose my next words very wisely.”

Reality warbled around him.

At first, it looked like Kal and his men all stiffened for no reason. Kal let out a rasping breath.

Then—one by one, trembling, they sank to their knees, bones trembling violently. Eyes bloodshot. None of them could get a word out—all of them could hardly breathe. Physiques powered up; shadows flickered over their forms—it was no use.

It was like some invisible hand had crushed them in its fist.

“I'm no man,” growled the dwarf, straightening his robe. “My name is Dormu. They call me the Worldbuilder.”

For the first time, there was the spark of something in the dwarf’s eyes.

“And I would thank you to take your hands off me, good sir.”

Kal was struggling to even stay on all fours. His inner universe erupted—a storm of chaotic shadow bracing his body, throwing a reality’s weight against that force—fighting and losing.

The man could hardly even breathe right. Gravity made him kneel, crushed his powers before they had a chance to erupt.

Even those skeleton steeds were on their knees…

Dormu hobbled his way back into the caravan, looking shaken and angry at once. No one could move to block him. Then they heard the clanking, and a twelve-foot-tall hulk of whining gears broke out of the workshop, hissing steam.

A full-on mech suit, shining with gnarled runes. Its fists expanded in a whir of gears, making hammers.

“You had your chance,” said the dwarf. His voice trembled. Zane got the sense this was a man unused to violence.

But once he’d set his mind to it, he went for it.

It plowed right through the bandits, shattering them like statues; statues that went up in flame as they fell.

It was as though their bodies didn't dare move out of the way—the gravity on them was so strong there was no recoil to those piston-powered punches. Their physiques had to sit there and absorb the full force. There was a massive shattering.

Then the dwarf was done. His visor flipped back up. He looked deeply tired.

He made his way back to his caravan, got out some wrenches, and started working on his golden bulls again.

There came a trill—a sooty salamander crawled out of the workshop, yawning; it blinked at him. It’d been sleeping in the forge.

“It’s nothing, Stain,” said the dwarf gently. “Shh. Go on. Goodnight.”

***

The old dwarf didn’t seem a very domineering fellow. But that Concept was quite domineering. Not everyone needed to fight all the time, but he respected a fellow who could turn it on when things needed to get done.

Zane didn’t know you could even use Gravity that way. He figured the dwarf had put some core of gravity right where his targets were and cranked it up—cranked it up so much they couldn’t move.

He flexed his fist.

It really did seem like forcing his will on his foes—quite a useful thing for bird-catching and the like.

He’d have to try it out sometime.

***

Not long after he and the Barbarian Sage set off—heading for the dwarf king's palace. Along the way, Zane went over his vision.

“Dormu?” The Sage scratched his beard. “That dwarf you saw got made the Dwarf-King, if you can believe it. The last of the Dwarf-Kings, and the greatest of ‘em, they say! Some of his techniques are still around the Steelheart forges… those fancier mechs he made are all gone now, though. Lost to time. Real shame, that.”

He perked up. “Say—you see some of ‘em grenade-axes in there?”

There were no grenade-axes in the vision, Zane reported, to the Sage’s disappointment.

“Eh,” said the Sage.

Zane remembered what that space-bandit had said—that the dwarf was the last line of defense for the dwarves… he looked around at all the wreckage, all around.

It was a real shame.

It wasn’t long before they started coming across new Monsters. Mostly peak True Gods, a few half-step Empyreans here and there. The farther along they went, the higher-tech they got. At first, it was just corrupted golems—ball golems with belts stuffed full of grenades, and square golems on tractor wheels with cannons over their heads. Zane could tank the blows well enough, with his new body. And his Red Giant was more than a match for their firepower.

“This ought to make for good practice,” said the Sage. “Try that Concept on ‘em! Might be you can pull ‘em one way or another.”

Zane did.

He tried keeping in mind that feeling he’d gotten from the dwarf. Asserting the force of his will.

Making his will a core of gravity—and forcing everything around it to bow.

The more he made, the stronger they got at it. For some reason, the mechanism of it came to him quite easily. Gravity was quite a dominating force. Reina always felt it was something he was quite naturally suited to do. He thought so too.

They started encountering some dwarf skeletons too. They were decked in chunky armor, scratched thick with runes. Some wore simple exoskeletons, which they used to wield massive electrified hammers. Others hauled rocket launchers over their shoulders that exploded in vibrant green fire.

Zane burst into their midst, letting the rockets whiz by, inflicting heavy friendly fire. Then he clenched a fist, making a gravity core, making them stagger into each other, lining them up—one blazing axe raced out of nowhere, setting off a string of explosions in one brutal blow, carving them to ashes.

Then he turned and made a blazing X.

The rest of them went up like that.

Skill up!

Red Giant Slash V -> VI

As he clenched his fist, he felt the beginnings of that Concept rippling over his knuckles—getting stronger…

That fight had burned a little steel in his belly. He topped back up, downing a chunk of sunsteel and a block of infinisteel too.

A cheerful Sage behind him, he kept up his rampage. Making for the dwarf-king’s castle.