The Guild of Mirages
A Terracore Story, Part 3 🧙♀️
Under the darkening sky and emerging starshow, Tayde and Nikurskyy worked to dismantle the wreckage of their dustroller. The raider’s EMP had goofed up Tayde’s thermal regulators, which were pouring too much heat into her suit in response to the dropping temperatures.
Sweat in her eyes and steam on her visor made her practically useless in the task, so she “helped” by monitoring her radar feed.
“My energy stores will be shot in six hours at this rate,” she said. “That enough time to freeze to death out here? Clever approach for them raiders. Make it look like a malfunction.”
“Six hours, ah, yep, that should kill you good,” replied Nikurskyy. She pried a bent piece of steel away from the wreckage. “Though them raiders aren’t much for killing. Bad for, ah, business—they need us alive and freshly robbable.”
“I’d say a full on EMP blast is pretty well a death sentence out here, no?”
“If you weren’t a miner.”
“How’s that?”
Nikurskyy knocked a panel off the squashed vehicle, revealing a small opening. She unwound her extruder hose and fed it in.
“I usually keep it on my person,” said Nikurskyy. “But it can, ah, interfere with the extraction process if it’s too close. Usually safe in a nearby place, didn’t expect the dustroller to, ah…” She waved a hand skyward.
Tayde blew out a frustrated breath, immediately regretting it as it further fogged up her visor. She spat on it, which cleared a thin, goopy line for her to see through. Nikurskyy had pulled the hose out. Stuck to its end was a thick, black rectangle. It was a little bigger than a human hand, and maybe twice as thick.
“What they call a Favor Reflection. It’s, ah, coded to my biometrics,” explained Nikurskyy.
“They?” said Tayde.
“The Guild.”
“Ah.” Tayde had been briefed about the Guild or Mirages. They embodied Terracore’s closest approximation to an organized society—if a group of cultish sand worshippers could be considered as such. There were vague reports of several settlements, protection rackets, strange ritual sacrifices, illegal bioengineering practices, and all sorts of other colourful rumours. Her assignment hadn’t rated a bonus for any intel on them, but Tayde knew a few byte-peddlers who’d give her a price for a juicy scoop.
“Every miner must pay Favor to the Guild,” her tutor said. “If only for one’s own survival. Raider recovery is, uh, how would you say… built into their program. Like Raiders, the Guild needs us. But more Favor: better, uhm, service.”
“And how much Favor have you coveted?”
“Enough so that we won’t be out here before you freeze.”
Nikurskyy popped the black rectangle—the Favor Reflection—off the end of her extruder and tapped it about a dozen times, in a practiced and fluid motion. Tayde felt something happen. A subtle change in pressure perhaps, like her ears wanted to pop ever so slightly for just a moment.
“Now we wait,” said Nikurskyy.
As night settled in, they made what shelter they could from the shell of the dustroller. Tayde hooked her suit up to Nikurskyy’s so the extra heat could be put to better use. Her visor cleared, and so did the winds.
Peacefully, for a time, they watched a series of distant auroras and sparkling meteors. Once or twice, a streaking flash would snap low across the horizon.
“Autonomous scavengers,” explained Nikurskyy. “Yixn Droneworks runs an operation around this sector. Easy, ah, raid targets—key is to have a lot of ‘em.”
“Quantity over quality,” said Tayde, and Nikurskyy nodded.
The name Yixn Droneworks didn’t ring a bell—Tayde figured it was a local outfit. Still, potentially useful information for the Consortium. She checked her file storage to see if there were any functioning memory cells left. Somewhat unsurprisingly, the system reported that her corrupt fullspec file from earlier had somehow infected more than half of her remaining cells. Probably the root of her heat regulator issue too.
Tayde was sequencing up a diagnostic tool when Nikurskyy tapped her arm. “Help is here,” she said.
Tayde’s radar booped a confirmation a second later. Movement, inbound, from the south. A furrow of disturbed sand formed a wake around a levitating land craft of some sort. Its speed and smoothness indicated it was of much richer stock than the ill-fated dustroller they’d rumbled out here on.
It was a dull silver triangle—an elongated cheese wedge with bulging propulsion nacelles. Starlight glinted off irregular lines in the otherwise spotless fuselage, giving Tayde the sense of a subtle circuit board patterning. She wondered if it was aesthetic or functional.
The craft glided up to their position and came to a stop. Simple visual diagnostics (if they could be trusted) put it at just under 17 meters long. A static frizz grew all around, lifting sand grains up off the dunes in small waves. Then there was that strange, distant ear-popping feeling again, the static stopped and the sand dropped back down.
“Shield ‘round us now,” said Nikurskyy. She held her black rectangle device aloft. What was it called? Favor Reflection, Tayde thought. She really needed her recording and storage back online.
A hatch opened in the craft, in stages. The hull appeared to pull parts of itself inward, breaking into puzzle pieces along the glinting lines Tayde had noticed. Some sank directly back into the craft, others seemed to hinge backwards, others slid away. The shifting door revealed a human figure, clad in tight fitting grey-white armor, which was mostly obscured by a matching cape. A midnight black helmet visor went transparent to reveal a smiling brown face.
“Nikurskyy!” said the man. “What happened to your roller?”
“Emmax,” said Nikurskyy. “Glad you’re, ah, here. Tayde here thought to annoy some raiders.”
“Brilliant! Hilarious! Keep them on their toes and keep them entertained, I like this Tayde—you must be Tayde!” He pointed at her.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Tayde said. “Thanks for, uhm, helping. I’m still learning.”
“Learning! Why, that’s effectively my own mandate. Emmax Izzonlyne, Crystalsight Mirari, at your service—for the right Favor, of course, which goes without saying, but maybe not for those learning. Ha! Come on board!” He swirled his cape and disappeared inside the craft. It lowered itself so the opening was accessible.
“He’s going to chatter the whole ride back, isn’t he?” murmured Tayde.
“Oh, aha, yes for sure,” said Nikurskyy.
“Lovely.”
They walked to the craft and got in.
Inside was suspiciously indistinct. It was clearly an isolated passenger compartment meant for situations like this. Six basic seats, a lavatory cubicle area, and a viz-screen that showed them a view from the bow.
As for Tayde’s prediction, it was true: Emmax the Crystalsight Mirari was more than happy to pile an encyclopedic avalanche of Terracore trivia onto Tayde. Most of it had to do with his personal sand art collection and the importance of how his sect of Mirari needed to imbue themselves with local culture.
She tried to listen, converse, and fix her damn storage issue at the same time. It was a tricky social dance—she needed him to spill good information only when she was ready to record.
He’d babbled on about some bits already that she’d just have to commit to memory. The hierarchy within his Guild of Mirages for example: the low ranking Crystalsights, who shepherded stranded Miners and did the grunt work of the guild. The Bladewrights who built weaponry, the Metalsongs who specialized in defensive works. The Favor dealers were Blackwings, leadership was something called Morgana…
“What were the newbies called again?” Tayde asked, while reading a diagnostic readout.
“Ah, the Sunshift Mirari. Apprentice to the Guild similar to how you are apprentice to Nikurskyy here. Better working conditions though! And often the very best tipsters for where to find sandetch specialists and glass artisans. You see, it’s because they’re still socially rooted in their communities! Why just the other day our newest Sunshift, she’s called, oh what was it…”
Emmax droned on. Tayde reconfigured some security settings, authorized an override. She figured it couldn’t get any more damaged, software-wise. She’d managed to quarantine the corrupt file, but now it was doing something to her playback controls. It kept trying to play itself.
“... and then, wouldn’t you know it, one of our most celebrated curators is a Hivetrend Mirari. They’re the ones who Miners sometimes call, humm, astroalchemists—yes, that’s it! Astroalchemists, masters of the Scrap itself!”
“Whoa, wait, hold on,” said Tayde. This was paydirt. Damn this corrupted filesystem.
“Yes, it’s all a bit much for the learning mind,” said Emmax. “The nature of the Scrap. But some of the base principles are really quite easy, especially if you know the math, which isn’t always simple, but is always made of simple parts—almost like the Scrap!”
The playback icon pulsed wildly in Tayde’s display. Frustrated, she tried to blink it away but managed to somehow activate it. But instead of blasting her display with a mess of unintelligible data, the spec readout somehow started to play flawlessly.
“What… the…” she said.
“I said, ‘almost like the Scrap itself!’,” said Emmax. “You see…”
But Tayde couldn’t hear him anymore. There was something wrong with the fullscan spec. It looked fine, but a stretching, sickly feeling came with the gliding charts and compositional readouts. She felt too tall, too present, too big—and something watched, probed, something saw into the back of her skull and peeled out all her old thoughts and secrets and forgotten memories.
There was brilliant blue, the lines expanded out of the display, towering above, giant towers of glittering white-blue, a million suns, gravity enormous—she looked up and she was a tilting planet, pulled this way by agonizing unyielding masses.
Every sun an atom, every atom a whirlpool, every whirlpool tearing her apart and putting her back together in a cycle, an orbit, a swirling mass and she screamed but galaxies can’t scream so the vibrating threads of force in the vacuum wailed and pitched and͍̤̙̝̲̱͚̱͇͢ ̡̼͍̟̮̀s̢͚̯u̪̩̮̯̺̻̙̪̙͡n̫͙̭̝͜g̭̫̝̲̮͘͝h̺͈̰̟̱̪͎͙̮e̻͈̗̥͘r҉̡̲̥̻͜ ̵̳͎̟̘͉͉̣̬ͅt͕̬͇͚̰̠͉͎͝͡h̡̨̞̭͓̭̝e̵̤͔͙̥͙̙̲e̪̭̝̟͔̮͍̮ͅn͉͍d̫̻̼̩̤s̙̜͡0n̴̬̯͖͠ͅͅg̢̭̝̜͕̘͇͚̠ ̭̻̦̤͎̱̟̼̀̕ò͎̣̜͞f͏͉̻̙̣̰̥̮̣̕ ͕̺̲́T̴̵̢̮͇̗̝i̶̵̛͈͓̺̲̻m̤̪̘ͅę̖̹ ̢̛̦̘̗̘̗͕̖͝f҉̪̞͖͍̥̻̠͚̖o̹̬r̨̪̳͎͕̩͍̬̥ ́͏̰̦̺̞t͉̙̲͓̹h̴̛͎̼͓͈͉̳͉̻͈̀i̬s̢̡̧̲̖͍ i- ̹̳̙̻̤̩ẃ̠͇͕̣͍͔̹̀h͏̧̜̞̯̪͢—é̲̣͎y҉̸̖̗̫ ͕̪̲s͏̵̯͇̞̤̹̱a̠͕̟̩̺̮w̖̪͝͠ ̣̲͚͍͉͘ṯ̥̱͓o̴͕̖̭͚̕ͅo͏͍̘͙̬͚̞̼͞,̸̳̥ ̛̞ạ̴̛̩̟̫̩̪̫n̞͉←u̷̵̗͓̲̦̺̭s̞̞̻̱͓̥͟t͉͓͔̺͘͞ ̸͎ẁ̨̫̠̻͓͈̪̮͔a̳̻̮̻̺̰̰r̷̪̠̫̯̝̗͍̘͜n͕͎̮̗̞̤̕̕͟ ̸̻̗̬̝̟̣͡a̭̗̟̼͠͠g͍͚͎͖͚̪͕̞͟͟͠ḁ͈͙̱̥́i͎͍̖̹̖͇̰̞̭n̨̬̜͡͠—
She saw her face reflected in the dead screen of the visor a moment before her own vomit erased it—and she collapsed in a heap on the floor.
| 👥 Character inspiration |
|---|
The following players' Hive names (not their personalities! 😜) were used to inspire some nouns in this part: @emaxisonline • @bladewing124 • @hivetrending • @yuexn • (and in Part 2): @kwskicky. If you'd like to see your username involved, come by the #📚 lore channel in the Terracore Discord! |
🚀 Publishing schedule
This story will be released as the Terracore community reaches the collective goal of contributing 500,000 Favor in-game (thus burning the $SCRAP tokens). Exact publishing times will vary, but will (generally) adhere to the following table:
| Part (working title) | Community Favor Needed | % of Goal |
|---|---|---|
| Part 1: The Nature of Scrap | 13,000 | 2.6% |
| Part 2: A Harsh World | 19,000 | 3.8% |
| Part 3: The Guild of Mirages 👈 | 29,000 | 5.8% |
| Part 4: Desert Magnificence | 44,000 | 8.8% |
| Part 5: Mud, Dust, and Steel | 66,000 | 13.2% |
| Part 6: The Heat Never Sleeps | 99,000 | 19.8% |
| Part 7: Paths amid the Dunes | 148,000 | 29.6% |
| Part 8: Sunspear | 222,000 | 44.4% |
| Part 9: With the Light at our Backs | 333,000 | 66.6% |
| Part 10: Oceanic Dreams | 500,000 | 100% |
Learn more about the Terracore Game
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Game docs
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