CC 9: Tenacity ~ One

Joe the Ritualist surveyed the new realm he was trapped in. Compared to the last time he had gone to a new world, this was practically a vacation. No choking to death because he couldn't force air into his lungs, he chose to come here instead of being exiled, and he was surrounded on all sides by friends. “Great, now we have all the positives out of the way.”

He chuckled to himself as he looked around, finding that the surrounding landscape was aglow with the flickering flames of numerous fires, providing warmth and light to the gathered crowd. Even with their joy being tempered by their loss, the vast majority of those assembled were triumphant Dwarves reveling in their newfound freedom; fresh from their escape of Alfheim. Their society lay in ruins, their old way of life had been torn out by the roots, but every single one of them had grabbed the chance to start afresh in this unfamiliar world.

Being the catalyst for their escape—as they had earned survival on their own—Joe wasn’t surprised to find himself the object of the Dwarves' gratitude. Every person who recognized him would have their faces light up, followed in short order by endless offers of potent drinks being sent his way. Their persistent attempts to celebrate with him touched Joe deeply, filling him with the warm and fuzzies even as he politely rebuffed their invitation.

Still, he was only human. The Ritualist could only hold out so long; eventually the pleading and earnest offers wore him down. Even despite his often-introspective nature, Joe understood the significance of this momentous occasion, and the importance of bonds forged in the fires of shared struggle. With that thought in mind, he submitted to their desires a single time—joining the celebration in his own way by raising a mug of coffee as a toast to their survival, and the promise of a brighter future together.

After escaping the small knot of people that knew him well, Joe continued his observation, his keen eyes surveying the mingling crowd. Approximately eighty thousand Dwarves made up the vast majority of the group after the aggressive escape through the bifrost. That was offset by the smaller groups of humans towering over most of the crowd, their multiple thousands seemingly insignificant compared to the dominant population. They were remarkable in the fact that their stances were stiff, and the expressions on their faces differed greatly from the joyous celebration surrounding them.

There was good reason for it, and Joe felt the same sinking sensation in his own gut. They’d all received the same message—they were trapped on Jotunheim, a world of giants, and the only escape lay in the likely years-to-decades long task of building a City and dispelling the thick shroud of clouds above them, all in the hopes of generating a new bifrost. Even then, to ensure that they wouldn’t need to travel tens of thousands of miles to use it, they needed to complete their project before anyone else could claim the prize before them.

Joe rubbed at his lightly frosted bald head, understanding that this world would be yet another zero-sum game. Still, he was trying to focus on the positive portions of their circumstances, so he put a smile on his face and worked to keep his mood light. “Gotta enjoy the successes when we have them, or what’s the point of winning?”

Smile firmly pasted in place, his mind shifted from observation to planning, thoughts consumed by the task of building a new city, dispelling the clouds, and most likely being the glue that would bind these two groups of surviving Dwarves and advancement-greedy humans together.

As Joe's gaze extended to the distant horizon, he saw daylight timidly seeping in; an utterly incremental illumination of the world. The creeping wall of light moved at a glacial pace, underscoring the inconceivable vastness of the world they now found themselves on. ‘Glacial’ was an excellent descriptor of the area, as the abundant snow and ice were the only terrain features the light managed to highlight. Before he could start feeling concerned about the situation, he was grabbed roughly and once more invited to join the celebration of the now-shivering Dwarves.

The Ritualist firmly shook his head and set getting shelter as his number one priority for living on this world, as he saw the Constitution-focused Dwarves already beginning to pale and tremble.

“We’re going to need shelter sooner rather than later.” With that thought in mind, he turned on his heel and started walking back toward the guildhall, the only permanent structure that had currently been created in the area. His goal was to start putting together some apartment complexes; elevating the number of people that could be protected from the elements. He swept some of the blowing snow that had accumulated off of his Exquisite Shell as he thought about his next move. “If I build the apartments in a circle around the guildhall, will that help with cutting down on wind shear? There’s gotta be a city planner here that knows, right?”

He came to a halt as he saw a Dwarf on her knees punching the ground and snarling. Of all of the people around, she was the only one that didn’t seem happy in the slightest. “Excuse me… what’s the matter?”

She stopped moving, letting out a deep sigh as she looked up at the sky, the tears frozen in her mustache catching the light. “I'm an Expert frozen treat maker, I focus on ice cream.”

“Ah. Tough luck on that one. Shaved ice might be popular someday.” Joe stepped around her after a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, and entered directly through the entrance of the guildhall; his body instinctively shivering as a wave of warmth enveloped him. In that moment, he became acutely aware of the chill that had been slowly seeping into his bones. Whether it was an inherent trait of this world or a peculiar environmental effect, it seemed that the everyday dangers of Jotunheim were going to be even more severe than he had been thinking.

Only a handful of individuals were currently in the space, each of them radiating a palpable aura of power and competence. Among them, Grandmaster Snow stood out, a figure of authority and experience seated at a table, meticulously examining a rough map of the surrounding area. Her poise was a stark contrast to the other, less elegant happenings.

Havoc was arguing with his brother, Grandmaster McPoundy, about the viability of creating a smithy immediately, but the conversation cut off as Joe stepped into the small building, the wind howling in with him before he finally managed to shut the door. “Good, finally you realized that you should put down the stein and get in here to discuss strategy with the adults! Hurry up, there's lots to go over.”

Joe approached with a respectful nod, acknowledging the Grandmaster he was apprenticed to, though his eyes remained on the rough map that would provide him with a glimpse into the treacherous terrain and potential threats lurking in the vast expanse that was Jotunheim.

“Frankly, Havoc, it doesn't matter if he’s here… or not.” Grandmaster Snow murmured as she stroked her mustache. Her eyes never left the document in front of her, “You know as well as I do that he's nearly empty of resources, having used them up in our escape. Until we're able to secure deposits of minerals and such, there’s no point in trying to squeeze blood from the stone that is Major-General Joe Pyrrhic.”

“I've seen him do more with less.” Havoc countered immediately, giving a rare nod of acknowledgment toward the human in their midst. “Worse comes to worst, I'll have him out there converting dirt into bits of coal to light our forges until he's useful again. At least it'll be good training.”

Joe's eyes widened, and he decided to get involved in the conversation before he was assigned an absolutely pointless task as a mandatory quest. “Good to see you as well, I'm glad that everyone got through safely. If you don't mind me asking, is that a map, or a preliminary report on the area?”

“Ha! Coal?” McPoundy triumphantly pointed at Havoc. “I knew you were coming around to the idea of making a forge before anything else!”

Instead of answering Joe’s question directly, Snow ignored the bickering brothers and tapped the page in front of her, then began speaking loudly. “We escaped, for now. Everything is going to be extraordinarily difficult for the next several weeks as we rush to survive. You may have noticed that the conditions out there are rather… extreme. Well, get used to it! There are constant clouds in the sky, and it'll be extremely cold even during the height of daytime. Which, for your information, looks like it will be sometime near the end of next week. Settle in for the long haul, and let’s start to build a firm foundation, no matter how long it takes.”

Everyone quieted and leaned forward slightly, waiting patiently as though she were about to start reading a story to a group of children. Seeing that no one had a comment, Snow tapped the paper and went over her thoughts on the information. “Going by the size of the planet, and checking that against the slowly increasing light, we're estimating that each day on this planet is approximately two weeks long on Alfheim. That means we're going to have two weeks of daytime, followed by the same amount of time in absolute darkness as we're engulfed by nighttime. Havoc, as you were just having this conversation with your brother, could you enlighten us on the status of our resources?”

“Yeah. That's easy. In the grand scheme of possessing things, we find ourselves in a stuffless abyss, where the void of stuff knows no bounds.” The cigar-puffing Dwarf explained shortly. “It's cold. It's dark. We’re already under attack by monsters on the outer fringes of our group. We need metal, we need enough plants and meat to survive. Eh, mushrooms would work. All of this comes together to a simple conclusion: we need to start digging right away, and get our society living underground like we always should’ve been.”

“I'd wondered about that.” Joe didn't realize that he had spoken out loud until he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him. Instead of apologizing, he leaned into his question. “If Dwarves are so used to living underground, why did you all live on the surface when I found you? On that note, why do you all carry axes and the like instead of pickaxes and shovels?”

McPoundy was the one to speak up this time, “We lived on the surface because it was part of the rules of the last world. Since we were in a state of constant war, living underground would’ve meant giving up all of the fortresses and the resources that they automatically generated for us. As to why we carry axes? That one’s easy. Elves live in trees.”

That got a chuckle from the assembled group. When they quieted down, Snow gently placed her hands on the paper in front of her, lifting her chin until she was meeting Joe's eyes. Seemingly trying not to get her hopes up, Snow quietly, yet firmly asked the question on her mind. “Havoc seems to think that you might have a few tricks that could help us. Is there anything you can think of that you could put in place to increase our odds of survival?”

“Sure. I’m thinking we-” Joe was about to start explaining his plan for putting up temporary housing, but something outside of the window caught his eye. Several Dwarves were using the oversized metal block that the Ritual of the Traveling Civilization was on as an ale-pong table. One of them had just knocked over a cup of the strong brew onto the extremely dangerous, treacherously vulnerable ritual, sending a warning tingle down Joe's spine as he turned on his heel and ran for the door. “Yeah, hold that thought for a minute. If they break that ritual, I'm not exactly sure how big the explosion would be, but… big.”

He dashed back out into the cold, rapidly closing in on the metal block and waving his arms at the ruddy-faced revelers. “Get out of here! Shoo!”

The Assemblage of Dwarves scattered like scared chickens, although their laughter made it clear that they were seeing this as part of the fun. Joe cleaned off the surface of the block of metal, and as he did so, decided to make sure everything was working properly. He accessed the ritual itself, swiping out until he could see Jotunheim as an astral object on the surface. Joe flinched as a cloud of snow went past him, and he turned his head to see another human man using the snow as some sort of training.

The man had a huge shovel, and was creating walkways even though there wasn’t a clear route that needed to be made. “Are you trying to stay warm or something?”

“Nah.” The man turned his head and grinned at Joe as he continued shoveling his way to the guildhall. “I just dig snow.”

“This place is bringing out the worst in people already.” Joe snorted and went to close the projection the ritual created. He was satisfied that everything was safe, and was now sure that the ritual wasn't about to explode from a simple spill. He started  closing everything out, but just before he stepped away, Joe felt his body seize up as a glowing dot appeared on the very edge of the map.

It hadn't been there a moment ago, and was ever-so-slowly traveling across the area he had selected to view. Curious, he zoomed in on it until the dot was in the center of the screen. A few words appeared above it, and Joe’s eyes went wide. As he realized what he was seeing, his plans changed and his heart leapt. “That’s Alfheim, this was where we left the Shoe, and this…!”

Joe sprinted back to the guildhall, slapping the door open and shouting at the top of his lungs to drown out all other conversation. “The pyramid! We have a chance to save it!”

That didn't elicit the reaction he wanted or needed, as most people simply looked at him as though he had finally drunk one too many mana potions. “The Alchemy hall! It’s still intact! I don't know for how much longer, but if we move now, we have a chance to pull it through to this area!”

Jake the Alchemist sprinted into the building, somehow having heard Joe even though there was no reason for him to be in the area. He hadn't even stopped to open the door that was slowly closing behind Joe, simply smashing it off its hinges and turning it into several chunks of wood in his haste. “You can save it? Fool! Why are you wasting time telling people! Bring it across!”

“I need help,” Joe explained as rapidly as possible, his eyes noting that Jake was peeling a label off a bottle labeled ‘failed quest punishment’. “It’s going to have a severe mana cost, I'm positive of it. I need as many people as can be spared right away.”

He waved for people to follow him and hurried back out to the metal block as orders started flying through the air. There were tens of thousands of Dwarves in the area, and every single one of them had access to their mana, even if they themselves weren’t spellcasters. The people not interested in the rescue of the Artifact-quality building were interested in the ‘party game’ that required everyone to gather around in a set of giant circles.

Joe wasn’t above tricking a few tipsy Dwarves into losing their mana—and likely their lunch—if it meant that they could jumpstart their progress toward having a city. Happily, there was no end to the volunteers, to the point where Joe needed to start turning people away.

He wasn't idle during this time, focused instead on finding the best placement for the Pyramid of Panacea itself. The Ritualist was practically shouting back and forth with everyone that needed to be involved in the placement process. Amidst the bedlam of differing opinions on the ideal location for the building, it rapidly became apparent that Jake the Alchemist was going to take matters into his own hands, exercising his strange level of authority to the utmost.

He proved this fact when an upstart city planner finally arrived and jumped into the fray—arguing about them needing to take their time and really consider the layout of the eventual city—the Alchemist simply blew a handful of powder into the Dwarf’s face, making the bearded Dwarf’s fervently excited eyes shift into a vacant stare, his demanding noises falling flat; along with his now-unconscious body.

That spectacle earned a chuckle from Havoc. “Compliance powder. Gotta love ol’ reliable.”

With that, the location of the pyramid was firmly decided. Joe began laying out the ritual plates that sprang from the block the Ritual of the Traveling Civilization had been inscribed upon. Circles of ghostly energy sprang out, and the Ritualist began directing the volunteers to fill the open spaces. The ritual had a minimum number of people that could be involved, but they blew past that in an instant as Joe filled every position possible for maximum power generation.

In fact, it got to the point where Jake was nearly ready to start shaking Joe to make him start the process, but the Ritualist firmly told the Alchemist to back down. His reasoning was sound, the only reason he didn't get a puff of powder in his face and have the Alchemist seize control. “I can almost guarantee that we're only going to have one shot at this. Let's not mess it up by underestimating what it’s going to require to bring the pyramid across.”

With everything in place, the ritual ready to go, and the party continuing to rage ever-louder and wilder outside the bounds of the intense situation… Joe activated the ritual with a whoop.

His voice choked off as the air above them screamed. Space itself ripped open, and lava began flooding down to the icy plain below.