Colostle #2: The stranger

Exploration Phase

The weight of the climb lingered in my bones as I descended into the mist. My breath was ragged, the adrenaline of escaping the rook still pulsing through me. But I didn’t have time to rest. The Colostle was always moving, shifting beneath my feet, and I had no interest in waiting to see what might find me next.

I stumbled forward, pushing through the undergrowth until the jungle finally gave way to something different—something ancient.

Before me stretched a massive skeleton, bleached white under the dull light that filtered through the canopy. Its form was humanoid, but impossibly large. I paused, squinting at the bones, trying to comprehend what it once had been. Could it have been… human? No, it couldn’t be. The size alone made that impossible. Yet something about it felt eerily familiar. I took a step closer, but then I noticed something else—a cluster of makeshift tents surrounding the base of the skeleton.

A bandit camp.

The camp was long abandoned, overgrown and decayed, but signs of life still lingered. Burned-out fires, discarded weapons, scattered supplies… Whoever had been here left in a hurry. My hand instinctively moved to the ice rookling, which stirred at my side. Something felt wrong. Too quiet.

As I scanned the area, I noticed strange marks in the dirt, claw marks. Large, powerful. And suddenly, it made sense. Gargoyles. I had heard stories of these winged beasts as a child, but never thought them real. Yet here were the signs. The bandits must have fled to avoid their wrath. But why leave so much behind?

I crouched near one of the abandoned fires, reaching out to inspect something—a piece of jewelry, delicate, half-buried in the dirt—when I heard it. The unmistakable beat of heavy wings.

Before I could react, sharp claws wrapped around my shoulders, lifting me off the ground. My heart leaped into my throat as the ground disappeared beneath me, the wind rushing past my face. The rookling let out a shrill cry as it tried to keep up, but the gargoyle was too fast. It carried me high above the jungle, higher and higher, until everything below was swallowed by mist.

I fought to break free, but its grip was iron. My mind raced, trying to remember the stories I’d heard about gargoyles. Were they creatures of instinct? Servants of the Colostle itself? Or worse—were they intelligent? If so, what purpose could it have for me?

After what felt like an eternity, the gargoyle began to descend, wings beating slower now. Through the haze, I saw a massive staircase, each step as tall as a small house, winding up into the clouds. The gargoyle dropped me onto one of the lower steps with surprising gentleness, as if it had simply delivered me here as part of some unseen design.

I landed hard, rolling to a stop as the creature circled above, its glowing eyes watching for a moment longer before it vanished into the mist.

I stood, dusting myself off and looking up. The staircase seemed endless, disappearing into the sky. Just like the one I had climbed earlier, but much grander in scale. Each step loomed over me, massive and crumbling, like it had been built for giants.

I took a breath and began the climb. Every step was an effort, my legs burning as I hoisted myself higher and higher. Memories of the previous staircase I had conquered came flooding back—the same exhaustion, the same uncertainty about what waited at the top. Back then, I had climbed for survival, chased by pirates and the sea. Now, I wasn’t sure what I was chasing. Answers? Escape?

Whatever it was, it felt different this time. The Colostle was shifting around me, leading me somewhere. But where?

I reached the halfway point, my body screaming for rest. I paused, glancing down. The jungle below was now just a sea of mist, the bandit camp long forgotten. I wasn’t going back. Not now.

And then I saw it—a door, impossibly large, rising up from one of the upper platforms, disappearing into the clouds above. From a distance, I had almost mistaken it for part of the wall, but now, standing before it, I realized its true scale. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, towering and ancient, as though it had been there for millennia.

But how to open it?

I moved closer, running my hands along the surface. There had to be a mechanism, some way to unlock it. The Colostle wasn’t kind with its secrets, but it always had a way of hiding answers in plain sight.

As I searched for a clue, a rustle of movement behind me caught my attention. I turned, hand instinctively moving to my rookling. There, standing at the base of the door, was a stranger. He wore unusual robes, marked with a symbol—a castle, etched into the fabric like a badge of rank or belonging.

I had heard stories about these people—whispers of a cult that moved through the Colostle, keeping its mysteries for themselves. No one spoke of them kindly, and I could see why. The way he stood, rigid and watchful, with a shortsword hanging at his side, told me that he wasn’t interested in talking.

He was armed. And he was hiding something.

...

The stranger moved fast—too fast. His short sword flashed in the dim light, a blur of steel heading straight for me. But reflex kicked in. Before the blade could make contact, I lunged forward, grabbing hold of the hilt with both hands, feeling the weight and familiarity of the weapon beneath my palms. My proficiency with my hands, a lifetime of building and fixing, came in handy once again.

CLANG!

The impact knocked the air from my lungs, but I didn’t let go. I grunted, eyes locked on the stranger as he staggered back, the force of my grip pulling the sword out of alignment. My chest ached from the blow, but more importantly, I still had control of the weapon. My hands, though trembling, were intact.

Round two.

The stranger wasn’t done yet. He raised his shield, advancing again, but my rookling reacted faster. Ice spouted from its hands, forming jagged walls that forced the stranger to pause. His eyes flicked between me and the rookling, something like recognition—or maybe obsession—flickering behind his gaze. He was interested in it. I could tell. Whatever he was hiding, it had something to do with the rookling, and the purple flames.

I took advantage of the momentary distraction. Creating some much-needed space, I reached for my slingshot, sliding a smooth stone into the worn leather. Plop!

The stone sailed through the air, striking the stranger square on the head. His eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, my heart racing as I stared down at his motionless form. He wouldn’t wake for hours, maybe longer.

I approached cautiously, nudging his fallen body with my foot. Nothing. He was out cold.

Treasure. I began searching through his belongings, rifling through his pouches, his robes. And there it was—a fragment of a map, torn and tattered, but unmistakable. It was connected to the purple flame army. Perhaps instructions, maybe even a location. I folded the map carefully, tucking it away into my pocket, and found a few other useful items—a small trinket that might fetch a price in the city, and a handful of other odds and ends.

I let the stranger lie where he fell. He had attacked me on sight, but he wasn’t the real enemy. My mind drifted back to the gargoyle. Why had it brought me here, to this place, to this man? Could they sense something in people, some hidden intention? Maybe that’s why the bandits had fled—the gargoyle saw something in them, something dark, and sent them scrambling. But me? It carried me to this new area, to the staircase, to this stranger and his secrets.

The Colostle worked in strange ways. I had learned that much.

I glanced down at my rookling, which had returned to my side, the ice melting from its hands. Two treasures now weighed down my pack—the one I had found earlier in the sunken ruins, and the one I had just taken from this stranger. Both would fetch a fair price in a city, and I’d need to trade them for something useful. Maybe parts to improve my tools, or something for the rookling.

But there was no time to linger here. The map fragment was a clue—one I couldn’t ignore. I had to push on. The secrets of the purple flame army were waiting, and I was getting closer.