The Clockwork Heist

Clocks ticking, engines humming and steaming, gears turning and creaking. People were rushing into the city on their mechanical bikes in the morning traffic. Few steam cars sped up and went around them, everyone in such a hurry.

Dark grey clouds loomed over the high buildings, hovering and traveling in the sunless sky in slow motion over the city of Nrah. It was not raining so it was a good day for most. Valeria, or Val for short, liked the rain though, for making a mess of everything and causing people to react with disgust to the filth spilling from the street to the pavements. She particularly enjoyed watching rich-dressed people desperately try to take cover from the chemical dirt of rain, bringing down the particles casually floating in the air from the surrounding factories. A rather entertaining sight. She wore her engineer helmet and goggles, and with a huge smile on her face, jumped here and there on street puddles with her big plastic boots, smelling the wet metals surrounding her. 

No, "Dancing in the Rain" was not on today's list. Rather mundane morning it would seem if it was not a big day. It was the day of her last job before stealing back her freedom, so her heart had been racing since last night, in anticipation. Val liked to take refuge in tall, abandoned buildings, and her makeshift “room” had a captivating view, especially at night. Something was calming in enjoying the sight of the street lights shining like fireflies in this normally metal and grey city. Last night, her mind was mesmerized by the colors of lanterns lit for the festival of Regeneration. According to old beliefs, a giant snake was the protector of the city and showed Kronos, the founder of the city, where it was safe to build it. Every year on this day, the citizens honored the city’s mythical benefactor, who brought good fortune and regeneration. It was probably one of the few customs the citizens still maintained in this “modern” era.

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For a moment, Val covered her eyes from the faded sun coming through the carbon-colored sky and, with feline grace moved across the uneven rooftops. She reached an alley on the other side of the block to meet Pete, a “friend” of the Guild of the Thorns. They owned the city of Nrah, and it was their headquarters in a way. Being an associate, and then a friend meant trouble but also meant a mostly good life, resources, and status.

Shady characters of different clans, with a variety of skills and/or magical capabilities, came together in this kind of life in despair but also in ambition. In the Guild of the Thorns, one of the five major guilds of Eterotropia, halfling rogues usually did the thieving, sorcerers were the alchemists making all sorts of drugs, potions, and even fake coin very similar to gold, all of which were super profitable sources. Gnome bards were the usual information brokers, wood elf druids were the smugglers, and Dragonborn fighters were like a “soldiers” department. It was not super strict, but mostly it was them in charge of their “specialty”. For delivering a black hand or a good beating, the half-orc barbarians would be up for the task. Paladins were at the top as the crime bosses, of course, because they would get fed up with being the nice guys and need a side hustle, one would think. However, one might on the contrary suggest that being nice was a side job, a facade, as the main bread and excitement came from the underground life. The council of the five guilds was managed by a counselor with the nickname Vorus Scaleborn, an eerily cheerful elven wizard, deceptively powerful, and respected by all the bosses. He was said to be a distant descendant of the founder of the city.

Val once dreamed of making her bones like Pete, but then was disappointed a few years later when she did. By now, she had grown fed up with this lifestyle and wanted out. Normally she was in the shadows, getting sometimes artifacts but mostly collecting information and passing it to the pipeline, to the bards. After speaking to an elder, she agreed to volunteer for this heist mission, and if successful she would gain her freedom. Out of the guild, out of the city, and never come back. An oath by the Thorns is an oath true. Pricked and sealed by blood.

And the heist job would take place tonight, at a place called the Silent Cathedral.

Pete was smoking a cigarette. He had gotten there first by a few minutes. With his flat cap style hat and old-fashioned street attire, the only things distinguishing him from a paperboy were his revealed geometric tattoos on his neck and forearms, and the strangely stoic facial expression. He was known to be one of those people to stab someone and not have a care in the world, kind of creepy to Val, yet she was intrigued.

They first met each other years back, on a street not far from there, when she helped him with his wounds. Normally she would not get in the middle of that, quite a loner to minimize risk, but the fact that he remained stoic gave her the feeling that she needed to figure out whatever he figured out to be so fucking chill. It might sound silly, but sparked her curiosity, and went out of her way to help him and hide him that time from a Ranger police officer and his canine companion, and this built a sort of symbiosis since then.

“The market is bustling today” he exclaimed when she was approaching.

She briefly stopped and stood next to him.

“Seem’s like everyone looking for a good deal”.

In the brief pause, her eyes shifted left and right. With so many locals and travelers using magic, one could never be too careful, and common examples to look out for were the shapeshifters or any artifacts for enhanced hearing. 

“Have you checked Jimmy’s pub?”

“Mm”, Pete groaned, “Heard the drinks are better around midnight.”

“How many meatballs will you order with your beer?”

“Ten before the beer, just to be sure.” He said in a low voice.

“So be it.” She replied.

He nodded, and the two rogues left in different directions.

Pete’s group would create the distraction of the guards ten to midnight at the place of the mission, Val revised in her mind. Never write this stuff. Ok, she better not be late then, she needed to make the final preparations, and get her equipment kit.

According to Val, infiltrating the cathedral required finesse, according to Pete a gatling gun. They said to meet halfway. She would use her mechanic and lockpicking skills, and he would lead the diversion act.

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There were some systems in place. Well, it was mostly superstition due to a said-curse, and a lack of building maintenance because they never finished constructing, therefore they never opened the Cathedral for the public. However, there were some guards, and it was due to the artifact stationed behind the altar. The Gearcore was an artifact of arcane magic that was said to affect magical powers. If you had strong magic, it would grow stronger according to how much power it had previously “charged”. In the unlucky case, that magic was weak in you, it would be drained away completely by the device, “charging” it. Strong and weak sounded a bit arbitrary till you witnessed it in action, but this was the gist of it. It was, therefore, a dangerous “toy”, and the public did not know of its properties, as the authorities preferred to keep it that way. However, they needed police guards, some of whom were on the payroll by the Guild, and let it slip for a good price. It’s just how things in Nrah were running.

As it got darker, she felt impatient. ‘Twas time. In the cover of the night, Val moved through the shadows. She entered from a window in the back. It felt way too easy, something in her gut felt wrong. She stayed alert and moved on through the hidden passages between the walls. It had taken a long time to find the building plans, but it was paying off, taking a “safer” route to the altar.

The Silent Cathedral, a place rumored to hold secrets as old’ Kronos

himself, awaited her artistry. Val's steps softly clicked on the marble flooring, like the meticulous ticking of a grand clock in the ambient hum of the city. If someone heard, it would sound like a mouse walking inside the walls. As Val approached the looming side entrance for the altar, the gears within the construct continuously

clicked and clacked, and the humming within made her pause with awe. Such a brilliant mind and a wonderful craftmanship to the detail to make such a construct.

The master architect-engineer, or whoever carried the title of the “HeadMaester” was hidden in mystery, shrouded in a myriad of rumors. Some said that after delivering this work, was assassinated together with his whole team, to keep the secrets of this magnificent structure. Others claimed that the gods whispered the secrets to the team and then took away their memories, but not many believed in the existence of such gods; not only caring but intervening for such a stupid human matter. Others said that the HeadMaester was of a shapeshifter clan, and nobody knew his or her true form for that matter. However, the most popular of all is the rumor that claimed the HeadMaester was a government contractor persona who had a beef with the government and left his project unfinished while placing a curse on the city on his way out, “the citizens to be forever prisoners of time”, or whatever that meant. Often, the truth lies somewhere between.

Val had her eyes on the prize, but nobody knew what kind of booby trap was in place and if there would be noise and catch the attention of the guards. Risky plan to just go for it, but she had drained her brains to find an alternative and there was none. Nada, nothing. Bet that even the guards didn’t know what it does. So, for her freedom and to bring this mission to success, she decided to risk everything and go for it. There was where Pete’s crew was going to come through. It was almost time for Pete’s diversion.

Guards stood and patrolled outside the altar room and the temple. Val could hear the guards pacing up and down, and she felt her heart racing. Come on Pete.

Someone screamed outside, and then a bam!

Always making an entrance.

Amid the explosions and smoke bombs of a human sorcerer of the guild, the sound of Pete’s twin gatling guns. Then chaos took over, and so did Val’s excitement. She saw from her hiding spot the guards running to the source of the noise to help the outside guards.

Such a bad move, boys! Someone should stay and guard the artifact.

Again, something tingling in her gut, and it wasn’t last night’s dinner. Something felt too easy. Too late to turn back now.

Val danced through the intricate mechanisms guarding the heart of the structure. At the heart of the Silent Cathedral’s altar, the Gearcore artifact pulsed with ethereal light, and Val’s eyes shined with ambition. Yet, as she reached for the artifact, the city's sounds became a cacophony—a ticking so loud it felt like the gears of time grinding against each other. As she approached and tried to use her tools to break out the gear from its place, the earth shook, and pieces of the ceiling started falling in the tumble. The Cathedral started falling apart, and it started raining clockwork pieces, such as sharp gears and keys, falling like rocks. Val ran inside the unstable building to take cover. The clockwork rain intensified, each droplet a tiny timepiece ticking away moments in their heist.

As the Gearcore radiated its arcane golden glow, the world around her trembled, and the ticking reached a deafening crescendo. Then, as if the clock had struck midnight, a metal alarm clock rang out and everything dissolved like a wisp of steam.

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