Disclaimer: I don't own Worm or the Pathfinder setting. I'm not making any money from this, it's written purely for my own enjoyment of writing.

Flayre Blazefist

People who know me, know that I am a man of my word. If I say I will do something then I will do it. Good, evil, these things are irreverent. What matters is upholding the fabric of society. It is for this purpose I usually put my skills to the test. But as I said, I am a man of my word. And I had promised the pathfinder society my aid in finding a ruin they are searching for. Most of the original team they had sent out was killed by a succubus. Eh, it happens. Shame when it does, but such things are one of the many dangers when you poke your nose into where it's not wanted.

The new team that was formed consisted of myself, a young man named Davon, a wild lass who called herself Rijorn, and a magus that was the sole survivor of the previous group. Didn't catch his name. Oh, who am I? I suppose that's a fair question. Name's Flayre, and I'm known as the Blazing Fist. Or just Flayre Blazefist if you prefer. Anyway, as I was saying. What do you mean I shouldn't try to be punny? We'd finally located the temple the pathfinders wanted us to investigate.

All told the place was kind of dull. Lots of ruined architecture, stagnant pools of water, mutated monstrosities trying to kill us, and far too many undead for my liking. All in all a pretty average excursion. At least it was until Davon started destroying support pillars left right and center during a battle. One second we're fighting this big ass monstrosity, the next the ceiling is collapsing on all of us. Not my idea of fun. I saw the magus go down when large chunk of stone crushed his head.

After that I was too busy trying to stay alive. I felt someone grab my arm. Just as I was about to throw whoever it was my world began to spin chaotically. When everything stabilized I turned around and saw who had grabbed me. It was Rijorn, and she had blood trailing down the side of her head. I didn't recognize where we were. The walls weren't made of stone, but I couldn't tell what they were made from. And there were many metal doors lining the hall. The doors looked too small to be open into a passage. And there were too many.

And what was that gods damned stench?! Since Rijorn appeared to be safe for the moment, I turned my attention to tracking down a faint pounding I could hear. To my horror, the pounding was coming from the same place as that foul aroma of death and rot. Only then did I hear a voice pleading. The language I didn't recognize. But that wasn't remarkable. There's a lot of languages I can't speak. With but a thought I sheathed my hands in solidified water. Then I punched what looked like some sort of lock.

Never before had I seen a lock with a dial instead of a keyhole. And I am no master thief. But the force of my blow shattered the device, as well as punched through the thin metal of the door. Once I'd pulled my hand out of the newly made hole I opened the passage. This revealed a storage space, as well as a human girl who looked deathly pale. Quickly I did grab her and pull her out of the filth I could now see. A faint breeze was constantly swirling around the human. It caused her short brown hair to blow about uncontrollably. Was she too gifted with power over the elements? It would appear so.

I could see many small electrical burns across her arms and legs. She also had, was that a maggot actually digging it's way into her leg?! I could feel her pulse fading. I'd already pushed myself as far as I could. My body couldn't withstand any more strain from overloading it. But there was one thing I could do. Calling upon the elemental plane of water, I pushed the energy I gathered into her body. I could see her injuries lessening. Feel her pulse becoming stronger.

Yet equally I could see the strain it was putting on her body. Even so it was worth the price she was paying. Saving a life is worth a bit of fatigue and sore muscles. And it would fade in time. Not to mention I knew she'd have to get use to this feeling. It was the price those like her and I pay for our gifts. With the human girl no longer at risk of death, I turned back to my companion. And maybe friend. She too wasn't looking very good. While not at death's door, Rijorn was hurt badly enough that I healed her too. Once again I had to let my friend suffer the price of me healing her.

Once both Rijorn and the girl came around I asked if my companion could aid with communication. I then explained that the local language was like nothing I'd ever heard of. My friend was still looking woozy though. Come to think of it, I'd had to heal her a few times since hitting my limits. At least she could stand though. The human girl I'd rescued was unconscious still. And quite frankly, I wasn't sure if waking her was a good idea yet. So carefully I picked the unknown girl up and guided my friend outside.

A task which took longer then I'd expected, I don't mind saying. Still it was an important one. What we learned however was that we were nowhere either of us recognized. Nor was the local language anywhere near understandable. I thought everyone speaks Common, hence why the language is known as such. And what was up with those strange contraptions traveling down the paved lanes? Nor did I recognize what sort of stone the lanes were made from. It was black though. There were pathways next to the lane made of an unusual gray stone. Again like nothing I'd ever seen.

"Where in the abyss are we now?" I muttered quietly.

Interlude: Taylor Hebert

Ever since she'd met those two her life had taken a strange turn. On the one hand, she knew two capes. And was one herself. On the other hand, she knew two strange capes and nobody in the Protectorate had believed she had powers until Taylor accidentally zapped a computer. Apparently her trigger was unlike any others known. She didn't spontaneously gain a new part of the brain, so wasn't a parahuman. Of course her dad knew as well. It was kind of hard to hide when she accidentally fried the TV.

The good news, if you could call it that, was that there was an investigation going on into why exactly nothing had been done about the bullying in Winslow High. It seemed an unknown cape having to rescue and heal a dying student was enough to bypass the general apathy. It was also enough to prevent Emma's father from covering things up. It didn't particularly feel like a victory however. Not when Shadow Stalker was actively trying to kill her.

Taylor dodged to the left as yet another bolt narrowly missed her. Her entire body ached. The crackling electricity that covered her skin was proof that Taylor had been forced to push herself far more then she'd have liked. Wind was whipping her hair everywhere, although it didn't affect anything else. She glared not at her attacker, but the man watching things calmly.

"Why?" Taylor demanded.

Shadow Stalker was with the Wards, the teenager division of the Protectorate. Not much was known publicly about her though. Not that this helped with figuring out why a hero was trying to kill her. The winds surrounding Taylor caused a crossbow bolt which was about to strike Taylor in her stomach to veer off course, embedding it in a chimney. The bolt of electricity fired in return went wide, striking a lightning rod instead. After the first one had hit Shadow Stalker, the crazed heroine had started to dodge instead of relying on her shadow form for defense.

"I'll step in if you're in trouble," her mentor said calmly.

That calm could grate on the nerves. How could someone face down the gangs with no fear? Face people with GUNS without flinching? Finally after three more crossbow bolts were sent off course due to the swirling winds surrounding Taylor she managed to tag Shadow Stalker with an electric bolt. This had the result of Shadow Stalker collapsing to the roof while twitching. The exhausted teen pulled a cell phone out of her belt and hit speed dial one. Once someone answered she spoke.

"This is Tesla," Here she paused with a sigh. "I have a downed Ward with me. It's Shadow Stalker, not sure why she attacked."

When Taylor asked why her mentor had a camcorder with him, he told her "Because it's better then a written after action report.

Rijorn Wordbender

I've spent most of my life alone. That's not by choice. Or at least originally it wasn't. My parents were wandering merchants. And when they died we were in the middle of the wilderness. I grew up in the jungle. And over time I learned a bit of my parents trades. Dad had been skilled at working leather, while Mom was an accomplished jeweler. Me, I'm no where near as skilled as they were. Or at least, I don't think I am. What I make always looks crude and unfinished.

Even so, I am skilled at one thing my parents never could do. When I was young I found the Names of many things. And Names as I learned have a kind of power. By describing something, you make it be. Some would call it magic. And perhaps it is. For me, it's just been a talent of mine. To Name things and cause them to happen. To describe to the world how how I want something to be, and it becomes what I described. I'm told what I do is called enchanting, but it's not that simple. Or rather it's exactly that simple yet more complex.

Take the white gemstone I had before me. I knew what I wanted to try. I understood the nature of both the stone and the desired end result. But it was something I'd never attempted before. Normally I make belts, boots occasionally, and the odd headband. These I'm good at describing. But this white gem situated in a thin leather circlet was for a new project. If this worked, I would give it to the child. If not, it would probably need to be destroyed as a dangerous mistake. I've had a few of those. It's why I always wear gloves when handling a newly Described object.

"Remember, child, always wear protective garments when you handle something you or another Craft. I have seen broaches cursed to become scarabs that kill in seconds, and storage containers that eat any who are foolish enough to stick their hand inside. Until you know for sure something is safe, it isn't. Target sense magic"

I'm told my eyes glow when I use that Description. Never seen that myself. But then again I'm not one for vanity. The wilderness is not the place for preening. Unless you're a bird of course. Studying the stone carefully, I finally deemed it probably safe to use. There were no harmful effects that I could determine. That didn't mean there were no harmful effects though. Just that I couldn't find any. Which to be honest was as close to safe as I could make things. There was still a risk involved. And I'd have preferred someone who can deal with curses to be on hand before testing this new Description.

Unfortunately this Realm had a decided lack of such people. In fact, I hadn't found anyone of true faith yet. There was a delightful child who could heal, but no clerics. No paladins or oracles either. Why even their alchemists had forgotten what their craft is truly capable of. Where were the healing elixirs and tinctures to cure diseases? The local artificers called my wares impossible, yet with my mage sight their own works clearly glowed. Did they truly not understand the nature of what they did?

I picked up the fone those Protectorate people had given me. A strange device, not magic in the least yet capable of further reaches then the best communication spell or Description I'd heard of. It had been pro grimmed to contact the one called Armsmaster when I hit the upper left button. Why the man chose that particular name I don't know. He's not a master with his chosen weapon. Then again compared to others I've seen here, he might be considered one.

Once someone on the other end picks up I spoke. "Hi, it's Wordbender. How are the belts working out? … What do you mean they haven't been issued? … Of course they're safe! You don't think I'd sell something flawed, do you? … Sir cut tree? What in the abyss is that? … No, they're made from leather and thread then have enchantments layered on them. … No, it's not something anyone can do. … I haven't seen anyone in your realm yet that even acknowledges the arcane exists, let alone practices using it. … Yes, I know I told you your equipment radiates magic. But it reads like it was conjured, not enchanted. Listen, I just finished a project to help my friend's apprentice. … Yes, the one you're calling tesla. Anyway, I'm fairly sure it's safe to use. But I'd feel better if there were people on hand in case something goes wrong. Maybe that nice healer girl. I think she might be able to unbond a cursed object. And in a worst case situation save Tesla's life."

I listened to the man's rant about safety for a minute or two before cutting him off. "I do take every precaution. But this is an enchantment I've never tried before. And I've seen what can possibly go wrong when you're pushing your limits. I already checked to see if it's correctly enchanted. But here is the problem, most cursed items don't read as a cursed item until after you try using it. … Yes, I said cursed. The object in question should enhance Tesla's abilities. But I can't tell if it's correctly enchanted, or if I screwed up horribly and it only looks like I didn't. … No, the belts aren't cursed. I've been making those for twenty summers. I've long since gotten to the point where I can enchant them without mistakes."

I listened to the rather impressive rant about safety and regulations on tinker tech before asking "What, pray tell, is tinker tech?"

Flayre Blazefist

"I believe I've mentioned this before, but it is worth saying again. Fighting dragons is insane."

Even as I spoke I was casually weaving through the dragon man's attacks. Well, aside from that one punch early on. That had hurt quite a bit. This Lung person was suppose to be extremely dangerous. I could see it. He moved like the wind and was hard to hit. Well, for me at least. The kid and Rijorn seemed able to do so. He also regenerated alarmingly fast. And as he fought I could see him getting bigger and stronger. Probably tougher too. All in all, it was a nasty combination.

If the fight went on for too long, there was a good chance my companions and I would be dead. Fortunately help was on it's way. I was hoping said help consisted of many people who are skilled at dragon slaying. This was actually my first time doing so. I'd have loved to keep out of Lung's reach, but that's kind of difficult when he's immune to fire. So I had to settle for punching him with fists elementally charged with water. That... wasn't working so well either.

Fortunately Lung's rage made him reckless. That was something I was able to take advantage of. Twas even more fortunate when the dragon man shifted his focus from me and onto Rijorn. With flames surrounding the now eight foot tall man, he dove at Rijorn. His recklessness made it possible for her to evade the brutal claws and vicious bite which probably would have killed her. Worry over hitting her comrade stayed Taylor's hand, which was possibly a good thing.

Rijorn took a cautious step backwards and said "Ranthar lenbuci qfthik oufltha"

Instantly Lung stopped moving. A good thing too since he'd started going after those less defended. It was then that the promised backup finally arrived. Disappointingly, it was merely one man. Armsmaster stared at the scene before him without saying anything at first. Finally he pulled out his halberd and fired something at Lung. I could tell that it instantly knocked Lung out. Even so, dragons are known to be tricky. So I prepared to strike if Lung was faking.

"Do you often get sent out alone to deal with dragons?" I asked the armored man.

He ignored me for a moment. Which was fine since it was done to contain the dragon man.

"No, Punchsplosion" was his reply. "Everyone else is busy right now."

I don't understand this realm's obsession with giving nicknames to those with training or ability. The 'media', which I still was unclear about the nature of, had decided to call me Punchsplosion. Not sure why. I have a name, Flayre Blazefist. That should be good enough for people to know me by. Besides, 'punchsplosion' sounds rather idiotic. Then again my protege got saddled with being called Tesla. Which again I don't really understand the reasoning behind.

Rijorn is known in my home realm as The Wordbender, but that is because of what she does. She bends words, twisting them in unnatural ways. And this causes physical effects upon the world. People began calling me Blazefist because when I fight my fists are usually shrouded in elemental fire. That's normal. My father was called Cooper because he made barrels. And until I started making my own way in the world I was known as Cooperson, the son of the local cooper. Having a surname which denotes your profession or a distinctive attribute is normal.

These 'cape' names people of this realm insist upon though, that's just silly. Such thoughts were still on my mind an hour later as I made my way to a local clerical station. Or 'hospital' as the people here called to them. I'd been volunteering there for a while. Although why they kept giving me slips of paper I didn't know. Supposedly they were paying me. But I had yet to see any coins. What good is paper after all when you need to resupply your travel pack?

Actually, I'd yet to see anyone besides myself and Rijorn who carried real money. Copper coins seemed to be harder to come by then I'd ever seen. And those have the least value. And when I paid for a meal at one of the local taverns, the barkeep had gotten wide eyed when I handed him the two silver such a meal usually costs. Maybe it's about time to try heading home? Rijorn is fairly sure she knows what had gone wrong. And Taylor now is capable of defending herself.

Actually, fighting that Lung person had taught her a lot of new tricks. I learned a lot from it too, but not as much as Taylor had. Still, adventuring alone is dangerous. Maybe I should talk to her about joining the local team. I know she doesn't like the idea. And I can't blame her. But she'll need backup. This is a fact of life for an adventurer. Those who try going it alone, often die alone. Something to consider.

Author Notes:

This is just one of many abortive attempts at writing a "Taylor is a kineticist" story I've done. This time around I brought in a word caster sorcerer and pyrokineticist I'd played in my local Pathfinder group to be her mentors. This too has been sitting for a while with no updates. I'm fairly sure the story is ether finished at or shortly after this point, or takes a new direction as the two central figures head home, leaving Taylor to handle things on her own.