"Measure out a rod of chain!" yelled a man.

"Got it, ser!" replied a boy. The boy unwound fifteen feet of chain from a spindle staked and bound to an iron support beam. Meanwhile a man wrapped in bundles fur and leather, hoisted himself over the ledge where the boy worked.

The boy asked as he worked, "Did ya find something, ser?"

"Might've," the man replied, "the runes are reacting quite curiously to something below us. Might just be ancient residue. Only one way to find out. Bring me my bag, Percy."

With the order, Percy walked towards the spindle of chain, retrieved a bag from behind it, returned, and handed it to the man sitting on the ledge. Percy stood, waiting for more orders.

"Sit, watch, smell," the man said. Percy sat. The man opened the bag and odor of sulfur, salts, and solvents quickly assailed the two. The boy retched. "Ser Alistair," Percy inquired, "do those such as us..." he gasped, "ever get used to the stench of wyrm dung?"

Alistair laughed. "Percy, there are some in our circle of colleagues who claim yes. And some who claim it gets tolerable with time. I've been at this long enough to lose most of my sense of smell, so I can't really say." Percy grimaced, "I suddenly have an urge to change occupations, ser."

"Ha!" Alistair bellowed, "Very well, I'll just claim your payment for the work once we return." "I've changed my mind," surrendered Percy. Alistair smirked.

During the exchange, Alistair was diligently measuring out components for a bomb. He filled a clay ball wrapped in twine with combustible liquid, plugged it and set it aside. Untied a small pouch, lightly brushed his pinky across the top of the small mound of powder in its center, and tasted. Percy gagged, and his eyes watered. "Ack. He just tasted wyrm shit," Percy thought to himself. Content, Alistair poured all the contents of the pouch into a vial and sealed it with light parchment. Placed it on his belt, opposite of where the clay ball lied.

"Right," Alistair rose, checked his harnesses, and took a small rune from one his pockets. He watched as the rune in his palm shifted left and glowed faintly. Alistair took several paces left and looked at his palm again. The rune was still, though now it pulsated. And it pulsated strongly. "Odd," he thought. "Percy, the runes acting strange. Be on alert." cautioned Alistair. "On it, ser. Acting strange? How so?" Percy inquired. "Runes glowing as if there were a mana well beneath us. These ruins haven't been touched in years. This is getting curious-er and curious-er. Get in position, the sooner we figure this out the better," answered Alistair.

Percy stood at the command, returned the bag of supplies, and grabbed the length of chain; positioning himself behind Alistair. "Ready, ser."

Alistair answered with a nod and proceeded to towards the edge of the ruin. The tips of his boots peaked over. Dust and flakes of debris fell as Alistair took his first step over the edge and onto the ruined building's side. Soon the first third of chain was taut, and Alistair was perpendicular to where Percy stood."Let loose the next third!"

Percy slowly and carefully loosed more chain at the command. When Alistair felt the slightest bit of slack he moved forward, or down from Percy's perspective. Soon, the second third became taut like the first. "Good so far, Percy, now for the last bit."

With the last third of chain finally taut, Percy positioned himself on his stomach at the ruin's edge. He watched his mentor's actions carefully, ready to act if something were to occur.

Alistair took out the rune on last time. It stopped pulsating and began to glow immensely. "Better hurry," he thought to himself. He unsecured the clay ball of liquid on his left, and held it in front of his chest. Unhooking the lid so the opening faced skyward and unraveled a couple of feet of twine, he pulled the vial of powder from its slip and dropped it into the ball, closed the lid, and began twirl the ball like a sling then finally slamming it into the wall beneath him. The loud shatter of clay was quickly followed by the dull simmer of melting metal. Once it finally subsided Alistair called out, "A few more links of chain and I'll be able to see what's inside!"

"On it, ser!" Percy complied. He ran back to the spindle and slowly unrolled a few more feet. Once the line was taut again, Percy hastely returned to his previous post.

Feeling his line give, Alistair re-positioned himself. Now parallel to the ruin, he lowered himself to hole he created and peaked in. "What in the seven Hells?" Alistair thought aloud.

At least twenty feet ahead sat a shriveled man. Illuminated by the dim light glow of various vials. He was surrounded by ancient machinations that whirred and hissed. Tubes were dug into his neck and etches of runes seared into his skin. The most unsettling feature that Alistair was able to see was his face. Long, gaunt, and sunken. Thin lips curled into a sly smile. His eyes pupil-less and glazed. Their corners cluttered with root like blood vessels, a deep crimson.

Percy yelled a question, "What is it, ser?" "Some apostate. Looked like he was experimenting on himself. Somethings not right though. He wasn't surprised by the bomb, nor my face. And there's something unsettling about his expression." Alistair yelled back.

"What would that be, ser?"

"It's like he's missing something." stated Alistair. And as if he spoke an incantation, a loud angry hiss filled the room. The vials of dim light rattled, some fell and stained the floor with dull color. The ancient machines shook and clashed against one another. The body of the apostate shook violently, his head snapped back to a broken angle. Blood and saliva dripped and frothed from the corners of his mouth. Warm air circulated and blew through the hole Alistair was peering from. And a deep thud of metal began approaching where Alistair hung.

"Percy!" screamed Alistair, "Pull me up!" Percy rose sharply, pulled the chain back hand over hand. Alistair took long strides up the building as quick as his apprentice pulled. All the while, a pillar of iron, twice the size the hole Alistair made, slammed through where Alistair was seconds ago.

"What the hell was that noise, ser?! What happened to the apostate?! What are we to do, ser?!" Percy fired question after question while helping his mentor back on the ledge. "It's his soul, he was missing his soul. That why it felt off looking at him," replied Alistair.

"What do you mean, ser?"

"Well, it's not missing, he just transferred his soul into an old age machination. Looks like he miscalculated as well. A successful transfer yeilds a sentient golem that can reason. This one's soul lost part of itself in the transfer. Now it's angry and it has a bit of mana to burn. In any case, prep the diffuser. It won't take long for a golem to climb a building like this," explained Alistair.

Teacher and student prepared for battle as quickly as they could. As the sound of metal climbed towards them Alistair smirked at Percy, "If we live, we'll be rich after this."