Bind on Pickup

by David Silver


85 - Same Ol' Same Ol'

Tabitha sweat a lot on the next floor.

The place was a furnace, forges belched flame, which wasn’t a particularly large problem for most of the team.

But Tabitha had mixed feelings about the thick padding underneath her plates right then.

She definitely still needed them, though, as she braced herself, physically and with magic, to stop the blow directed at her. The tremendous forged metal elemental monster pushed her back several feet, but at least she was still up. It hit with a lot of weight, but there wasn’t anything more to it, just a blow.

Garble sprang up over her. “I won’t balk to hit you with my shock!” He brought his sword down onto the monster, a crash of lighting too, and the scraping of metal was heard. The lightning flowed down the monster’s form into the ground, and the sword left… a scratch. It definitely scored the exterior. Somewhat.

"Elemental mismatch," called Tabitha, standing her ground despite her dire warning. "Recall, regroup."

It was just how fights that high went. They had to gear up for each battle with the right tools, or risk everything trying to win by skill alone.

Tammy clapped her hands eagerly. "Wow, that sounds like something you'd want--"

"--cold," finished Tabitha, rolling a hand as if that were obvious. "Load us up with cold damage and fire resistance. We're going back in, today preferably."

Spike lifted his shoulders with an unsure expression. "That's just one monster. There's no assurance it'll be the last. It may not even be the boss. The monster after it could be something else."

"Then we come back," huffed out Tabby, rolling her eyes. "We'll keep what we have, so we'll have two sets to switch between."

Sandra yelped as she was nudged. Twilight had thumped against her and she pushed back at her equine summon's snout. "Yes, I can hear you."

"But you don't seem to be listening," came the voice only Sandra could hear. "That 'saint'. Why did you leave him so quickly?"

"Huh?" Sandra shook her head, shoulders lifting in a grand expression. "I don't know him, and he let us past. Why would we stick around?"

"He lives in the tower." Twilight looked in the direction of the tower, hidden by the wall of the forge they were in. "He must know about it, how it works, where it came from. We should be asking him. Besides, he seemed… friendly enough after we consoled him." She nervously laugh-snorted, thinking back to the crying mess they had reduced the Divine Lord to.

“I’m not sure if he exactly ‘lives there’.” Sandra looked uncertain as she considered. “Like he did say he was taken by the tower as he went to the top, but would the tower like… leave him just to wander around it for the hundreds of years?”

“We don’t know because we didn’t ask.” Twilight threw her forehooves up, limited in movement as they were as proper horse limbs instead of pony ones.

“Well, if he’s still there when we go back up then we can ask him,” Sandra said, then stopped herself. “Oh… oh no. G-guys,” she said, getting everyone’s attention. “We didn’t see a recall point after that other floor, right?”

Garble raised an eyebrow. “No, so what?”

But Smolder figured it out immediately. “Oh no, we’re gonna have to go through the flying trap floor again.”

There were groans all around.

A long exhausting climb later, he glared down at the group, panting and tired. "You've come to give me a fresh new reason to question my life?" On the plus side, he hadn't immediately attacked them. "You." He leveled his sword at Spike. "What made you take the martyr's path?"

Spike pointed at himself. When the saint nodded, Spike returned the gesture. "Oh, yeah! I hated seeing my friends get hurt. Um, and… I kinda… Well, I can take a hit. Ask Twilight." He hiked a thumb at the Twilight/Sandra fusion. "So I figured if I could get a hit instead of them, that's a net win, and even if it hurt, I could do something about it." He hefted his staff up, the tip glowing with warm green light. "So I take it, then I get rid of it."

Smolder smiled deviously. “You’re not gonna mention that you wanted to do spellcasting, but we already had one and nobody else was gearing up to heal us?”

“... I wasn’t going to, no.”

The saint’s eyes narrowed. “And you bear resentment for having to choose my path?”

“What? No!” Spike exclaimed. “Divine Lord has been great! I get to cast, and I get to protect my friends and I get to get up close and smack things around sometimes.” He held up his staff. “And specifically the martyr powers can change the whole flow of a fight. Protect from things that would stop us in our tracks, and turn it around into damage immediately.”

Turro grumbled something as he scratched his chin. “Your words don’t stink of lies.”

Tabitha grinned brightly. "You're looking better than last time." That got her a look. "It's a compliment, promise. Still a huge fan, by the way."

"You look closer to what I would expect." Turro looked from one disciple to the other. Neither were exactly what he was. "You are here. Did you fail? Not hard enough, your presence proves this. Is the tower playing cruel jests? That is like it. I suppose it would be my duty to challenge you again, but how can I do something again without doing it the first time?"

“We were up against something that absorbed all the elements we had,” Tabitha said. “Also only three of us could basically stand in the area. So we needed some gear changes.”

Turro pursed his lips. “The tower attacks your weaknesses at this level. It cannot create a challenge that is unconquerable, but it aims to make it difficult in clever ways, instead of by simply throwing more power at you.”

“Yeah, we figured that one out,” Smolder added with a wicked smirk.

Sandra stepped forward, before anyone else could say anything. “What about you, Sir? Do you… live in the tower?”

The pursed lips became a wry smile. “Live is a very generous way of putting it. I exist, asleep, in the tower most of the time, and am occasionally allowed to display my combat prowess. There is nothing else for me. This is the price of my sacrifice.”

Spike curled one arm across his front, the fingers of that hand at his chin. "So… Basically us showing up woke you up, and when we leave, you go back to sleep?"

"Do you dream?" Tabitha's eyes shined with wonder. "Do you dream of your amazing adventures?!"

Sandra raised a hand suddenly. "I don't mean to interrupt." Despite that being exactly what she was doing. "But I have a more serious question." When the others didn't order her to be quiet, she pressed on, "The tower has a purpose, for us, a specific one."

"It always does." His tone was tired, but a little smile conflicted with it. "Every comer thinks they are the master of their fate, but the tower is pulling those strings."

“But does it normally mean the man at the top has literally made a plan about it?” Spike piped up.

“I... “ Turro seemed genuinely surprised. “How do you know about the jailer?”

“He’s been talking to me since I got here...” Spike lifted his hands in a helpless shrug. “Apparently he arranged for--” He stopped, blinking and shaking his head. “Wait, the jailer?”

“I know not else what he might be. He was not here when I first arrived at the tower, but one day he was, and he would allow me to go to certain floors to fight the adventurers that made their way up, instead of me simply finding myself there.”

“And he sent you here… today?”

Turro nodded. “Yes.”

Sandra suddenly looked smugly satisfied. "Of course he would. There are rules and even he has to follow them. You're on this floor, for us. You can't stop being on this floor, for us. He put you there, but he can't undo that."

Tabitha slapped her friend on the shoulder with a hearty thwack. "You are so right! How did I not see that?!" Her jubilant expression faded. "But what do we do with that knowledge?"

Turro looked on languidly. “It is up to you whether knowledge of your opponent can be used in conflict with them. I could not fight him any more than I could fight the house that I am living in, than my own body. If he has influence over the tower it is certainly more than I.”

Sandra stepped forward. “By remembering the rules. The tower's in charge."

Garble huffed softly. "Yeah? So?"

Smolder brought her hands together balled, fist to fist. "So we play the tower's game, even if that means he loses, even if that means he wins."

Spike inclined his head at the idea. "Not sure I'm following."

Smolder crouched down, putting her head equal with Spike's. "Your guy's lost it." She twirled a finger. "Nothing against him, but he's stuck in a rut he's been in for… How long has he been here?" She looked to Turro, who shrugged. "That many years. He's stuck. We aren't. We give the tower what it wants, nice and dramatic, but our way. I think it'll let us."

“So… you think the tower has a different plan than the man in the tower?” Spike furrowed his brow.

“Yes, if the tower has a plan at all, and isn’t just like a big dumb animal that loves spectacle and fighting and sacrifice or somethin.” Smolder held her finger up. “So we do that stuff, and the tower will totally let us.”

“But what plan is that!” Spike exclaimed. “We don’t know what his plan exactly is anyway!”

Turro gave Spike a sideline look, and looked up to Tabitha, apparently waiting for something.

Tabitha set to thinking. “If we understand that now… then when we do learn his plan, we can respond accordingly. Especially if it’s something the tower doesn't like.”

Turro said nothing, but nodded approvingly.

Spike suddenly clapped the edge of a balled fist into an open palm. "Yeah! Yeah!" Everyone looked towards him. "Oh, I just mean he's told me, sorta." He pointed up for lack of better direction to work with. "He's been stuck here for a long long time. I think he wants to end it, all of it."

Sandra looked off to Twilight, whose voice was echoing in her mind, "That sounds possible. If he wants to end it in a way the tower would not approve of, say… destroying the tower. It shouldn't be hard to get the tower on our side."

"It wouldn't be that simple." Not that anyone could hear what she was responding to exactly. "You're giving him too much credit."

Garble lifted his shoulders with a disdainful grunt. "How so?"

"He doesn't care about… the whole tower." She waggled her fingers and gestured up and down in a circle. "He just wants to get out of it."

Spike looked to Turro as if magnetically drawn. "Before him, what was it like?"

“Less personal. I found myself on a floor, and there were adventurers. I understood my role, even though it was not explained to me. I would also appear on lower floors, but after the man came up, I believe I’ve been summoned less frequently, and only for higher floors. Often the floors have much more elaborate designs.”

“So… he… made it more… complicated?” Spike tilted his head.

“He used to go on and on about the goal of the floor, but lately he has simply sent me on my way,” Turro looked up. “His excitement for this has drained, like all of us, really. Once upon a time I widely valued news from the world, but now I simply do things.”

“But… you’re talking with us now, aren’t you?” Spike smiled a small smile.

It was reflected on Turro’s face. “Perhaps you are right, but there is not much else for me.”