Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

behind her head, and her feet were shrouded in fire. The artist had even detailed the engravings on the Warsinger’s armor. Roses twined around her hands, up her arms, across her chest and up her neck to either cheek, ending just beneath the baleful glowing grates of its her eyes.

“…The third aspect is the mantle of the Warsinger. It was the Warsingers who turned the tide against the Drachan and gave us time to create the Caul.” The whispering, sweet voice of Lahati turned over in my memory. “You already know of one of them: Sachara Ha’Shazir, the Demon Queen, pilot of the Warsinger Withering Rose and the Empress of the Shalid.”

“Withering Rose…” Was this… was this the tomb of Sachara? Surely there was no way.

I let my fingers hover over the image, barely daring to breathe, before I tore my eyes away and looked to the golden casket. It seemed to beckon to me, calling me to open it. As I had in Taltos, I just didn't feel right about opening the casket and disturbing the dead, but when I laid my hand on it, the air of the room seemed to sigh before settling into a heavy, expectant cloak around my shoulders. The Mark of Matir tingled pleasantly.

“Sorry, bro. Or sis. I don’t want to disturb you, but my Dark Lord compels me.” Grimacing, I put my shoulder to the heavy lid, and pushed.

The metal was lighter than it looked. It rasped as it slid over, and a pleasant earthy smell bloomed out of the sarcophagus. It smelled like cedar, woody and resinous. When I looked in, I saw a smaller wooden coffin. It was vaguely man-shaped, and painted with bright colors that looked barely fifty years old, not over a thousand. Feeling more awkward by the second, I pushed that lid aside, and in doing so, revealed the occupant.

The mummy was smaller than I'd expected, shrunken by time and desiccation. The body wasn’t bandaged up, but he seemed almost like he’d been magically cured, somehow. He lay in state, so perfectly preserved that I could still see the deep lines around his eyes. Dark leathery skin pulled back from twin rows of white teeth and clung tightly to the lines of his skull.

“Not Sachara.” I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. Something about the idea of a famous Empress being buried this close to a sewer just hadn’t seemed… right. This guy being here made more sense, because according to our minimap, we were about three hundred feet below the temple of Khors in the center of the university, and this man had definitely been a priest of Khors. The style of the robes, the cut and the length were all different, but the mummy’s clothing had once been a brilliant turquoise blue, and he wore a beautifully made toolbelt around his waist. He also had a magnificent false beard draped over his chest, woven from hair the same coppery metallic red of Suri's. It was made out of skillfully twisted rope braids capped with gold, perfectly preserved except for the strap that had held it onto his face. I glanced at the wisps of hair that clung to his scalp. They were black.

On his right hand, this ancient artificer wore the finest spellglove I'd ever seen. It was an intricate, graceful device made of the same strange brassy metal that the Tomb Guardian had been crafted from. The sleeve of it was patterned in a surprisingly-modern looking hexagonal matrix, fitting over the back of his hand with a series of artificial tendons that allowed for delicate movements of the fingers. I'd worn motorcycle gloves with that same design. The tendons formed ridges over your knuckles when you clenched your fists. They were fucking awesome for punching people with.

The other hand was clutched around the haft of a golden hammer with an elegant, bird-like design, and over that, a large starburst medallion on a chain. The chain was tarnished, and so fragile that it crumbled when I brushed my fingers over it. The medallion itself, however, didn't have a single green spot on it. I picked it up carefully and stared at it until my HUD gave me a tooltip.

Ancient Medallion

+5 Intelligence

This ancient medallion is engraved with mysterious symbols in a language you do not understand. You will need to find someone capable of understanding its significance.

“Is that all?” I frowned, puzzled. This guy had obviously been someone important, but that artifact seemed… well. Kind of basic. The hammer and spellglove, on the other hand, were not.

Aurum Workhammer

+2 Strength

+15 to Metalshaping skills

+20% Stamina while Crafting

A hammer of ancient design wrought out of incorruptible aurum metal. Aurum tools can be used to forge Aurum parts. Can only be used by Artificers (All).

The hammer was much heavier than it looked. I didn't have to be a genius to figure this thing was really fucking valuable. I stowed it in my Inventory, and then gently tried to slide the spellglove free. His elbow crackled and dislodged, and I winced as my fingers slipped and accidentally hit a button on the inside of his arm. The raised hexagon panel slid soundlessly into the gauntlet, and then the entire thing folded down from his elbow to his wrist, shuunk-shuunk-shuunk, until it was just a small fingerless glove encircled by a large golden manacle.

“Wow.” I eased it off the mummy's hand, and tried it on. As soon as I pulled the glove onto my hand, the plates, tendons, and liquid crystal tubules unfolded, perfectly molding to the shape of my body. I flexed my fingers and grinned, then blinked as an item description appeared without me asking.

Gauntlet of the Arch-Smith

Soul-bound Magical Weapon

Slot: Spellglove

Item Class: Relic

Item Quality: Legendary

Mana Capacity: 2000

Mana Discharge Rate: 97%

Durability: 4%

Weight: 1lb

Special: Soul-Bound, Level Restriction (Level 40+), Class Restriction (Mages (all) and Artificers (all)).

Crafted from the rare legendary metal aurum, this legendary spell-glove bears an unusual maker’s mark. An appraiser of historical artifacts might know more about