Power up Prompt #15 LEVEL 3 Submission "Arthicican the last of the wandering cities"

An ancient megalith steam powered city, a bond broken by betrayal, a heist in sake of memories of the fallen. What mysteries does the wandering city of Arthicican hold?

I promise I will not keep you long before the story I have written I just want to speak on a couple things before hand.

I was blessed to be able to participate in my first Power Up Prompt. After a few nights of desperate imagination searching, and several hours of writing, rewriting, editing, and revising, I believe I’ve created a story that I am proud of.

This prompt had three levels to it:

(These three elements were taken directly from the original post. They are not my writing or ideas — only groundwork for what you’re about to read.)

Element 1: Setting
This week’s setting is The Walking Fortress. Simultaneously breathtaking and terrifying, The Walking Fortress is a sight to behold and a marvel of modern engineering. This steam-powered monstrosity is a heavily guarded city with its own people, its own army, and its own goals.

It moves on massive spider-like legs, releasing clouds of exhaust that fill the skies. It wanders a dying planet, seeking out pockets of life and resources so it can harvest them for a secret project known only as The Orb.

The Walking Fortress’ denizens want for nothing, enjoying the fruits of their harvest not relegated to The Orb. Meanwhile, the last pockets of civilization left on the planet live in fear of its thunderous footsteps and the hiss of its steam engines.

Element 2: Character(s)
This week’s character is The Sky Pirate. The captain of an airship and part of a resistance group seeking to stop The Walking Fortress by any means necessary.

No amount of firepower can destroy it, so instead the resistance has resorted to guerilla warfare and hit-and-run tactics to disrupt the mysterious work going on inside.

It’s a war of attrition. But the resistance isn’t winning — and the planet is becoming more and more inhospitable by the day.

Element 3: Conflict
The conflict for this week is The Heist. The crew of your airship are behind you all the way. If you told them to follow you into hell, they’d do so gladly. And in this case, you may be asking them to do just that.

The Orb project is the core of everything The Walking Fortress and its people stand for. Anything else is pointless. To bring it down, you must strike at its heart.

And so, you’ve been planning a heist — a plan to break in, uncover the truth of The Orb project, and stop it once and for all. It’s as risky as it gets. A one-way trip, most likely.

But if you pull it off, you’ll save the world. Seems like a fair trade.

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I chose to incorporate all three elements, weaving them together while adding my own inspirational flair — keeping true to the prompt, but making it my own. I hope those who read this find enjoyment, suspense, and thrill in this short adventure through the wandering city of Arthicican.

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The grinding of giant monolithic machinery filled the air,
the hiss of molten steam billowing from vents blotting out the very sun itself.

A walking fortress, Arthicican,
a city that walked endlessly on wrought-iron legs,
wandering aimlessly across a desolate, barren plain.

It was a final remnant of the world’s mobile, steam-powered cities.
The megalithic steam cities existed only because of an ancient divine force,
which razed almost all life from the planet’s surface,
leaving behind only a small handful of survivors.

They built behemoth, vapor-exuding migrant cities
to sustain them, to keep them safe
from the aftermath of the hellfire wrought upon them.

Arthicican pressed onward, relentless, like a man possessed.
Through the whirring of ancient, rusted cogs and clouds of toxic steam,
a subtle sound rang out in the sky.

A minuscule dot soared high above the city,
then careened downwards, faster and faster,
so fast it seemed as if it might self-implode
from sheer friction with the surrounding air.

Decrepit sirens embedded in the city’s enormous frame whirred to life,
causing the surrounding metal to reverberate with a sickening tune.

The inhabitants of Arthicican were warned by the ring of the sirens
of the impending danger rapidly approaching them.

The once-minuscule dot revealed its shape:
an archaic craft, flying through the scorched air around Arthicican.

To an unknowing eye, the mechanical craft zipping through the towers
could have easily been mistaken for a massive bird.

The vessel whirred and sputtered,
spewing steam and smoke entwined with one another
as it methodically wove between the walking fortress’ spires,
a predator seeking its prey.

A shrill cry filled the air,
matching the cacophony of the air-raid sirens
echoing across rusted sheet-metal walls.

“Today’s the day,” a voice chimed out.

A tall figure swung from the chains at the bow of the flying structure,
the last of the sky pirates, Ahtekan.

His skin was a deep, darkened color
from the constant barrage of the sun.

Ahtekan’s head hung proudly, a smile curling his lips
the kind of smile born of pure, childlike glee.

He effortlessly navigated his craft through the spires and obstacles of Arthicican,
finding a secluded spot to land away from prying eyes
and the gossip of the city’s citizens.

“You stay put, ole girl. I won’t leave you for long,”
Ahtekan said, planting his hand firmly on the hull of the ship
before gently kissing its exterior.

He raced off, light as a feather,
as his slender frame slipped, flipped, and twirled
through the various alleyways of the mechanical city,
dodging passing obstacles
with the ease of a bird soaring through the canvas of a deep forest.

Grasping an overhang bar, Ahtekan flung himself out of the alley into an exterior courtyard,
with a shout, “YAHOOOOOO!” — landing both feet planted firmly on the grassy yard,
a dramatic comparison to the surrounding architecture of the city itself.

Running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair, analyzing the courtyard,
it was completely barren, void of everything except a grassy yard and a tall pyramidal structure
jutting from the center of the landscape in front of him.

Sleek and black, yet almost primordial, vents affixed to its pinnacle.
The same harsh steam and soot from the city’s exterior
ventilated from these smaller pipes as well.

“Oh my sweet treasure, you knew you couldn’t remain hidden from me forever,”
Ahtekan sneered with vibrant glee.

Years in the making, a heist for something once thought so unattainable.
He stopped, remembering his fallen crewmates.

He had to finish this last job... If not for himself, then for them.
It was now within Ahtekan’s grasp; just a single set of doors in his way.

Marching forward toward the structure,
the air now eerily quiet.
Raid sirens offline.
The bustle of people fleeing vanished.
It was too quiet...

The doors to the void-like pyramid slammed open outwards with a violent hiss.
A callous and brief silence followed

Ahtekan startled, flipped backwards a few feet,
his right hand poised behind him,
gripped on his iron short staff tucked in his belt.

Three figures emerged from the dust:
a central figure at least seven feet tall, clad in some sort of
archaic exoskeleton, flanked by two other individuals in similar, albeit smaller, gear.

“Oh Ahtekan, I have been waiting for this day for a long, long time.”
A familiar voice rang out from the central figure’s whirring machinery.

“Moris!” Ahtekan snarled, unsheathing his short staff from behind him,
twirling it around rhythmically, the vibration filling the air
before resting in an old fighting stance.

“I know why you are here, boy, but you will die before you can claim your prize —
of that I can promise you.”

“I guess we will have to see about that, won’t we, brother...”
Ahtekan stated, the reply slicing the very fabric of the air around them,
the words opening old wounds of his blood brother Moris’s betrayal
he motioned for them to approach as he started to circle them,
his eyes never leaving them for a single moment.

“That we shall, my brother, that we most certainly shall,”
Moris’s voice echoed in soot, causing it to boom and reverberate deafeningly.

His arm reached down as his palm opened up.
A sharp, brief exit of steam released from his arm
as a large mechanical hammer released from the folds of his suit, falling into his open palm.

Grasping it, it hummed to life,
the blank metal heating up, becoming white-hot.

The two men flanking Moris activated similar mechanisms,
both revealing similar weapons.

Moris jet forward, attempting to not give Ahtekan a chance to react.
Ahtekan spun to the side; the molten hammer missed his face by only a hair.

Dashing toward the other two men, Ahtekan swiftly dispatched them both,
slamming them squarely on the base of their skulls with his staff,
rendering them unconscious but not in mortal danger.

Moris turned around, gritting his teeth roughly.

“You know, my brother, it was such a pleasure riding the world of your
vile thieving crew with my own bare hands.
Now I have the pleasure of dispatching you — their captain
and once and for all ending the legacy of sky pirates for good!”

Ahtekan let out a wild scream, running toward Moris.

As he slid beneath his legs, his arm swung methodically at the steam ports
on his legs, causing them to rupture.

Moris crumpled under the weight of the exoskeleton,
unable to hold himself up under its immense weight without its mechanics working.

He swung his hammer wildly, desperate to make any connection in his rage,
only to have Ahtekan counter his blow, sending Moris’s weapon flying across the yard.

“Even with all of your technological advancements, Moris, you’re still a pale comparison
to the lives of my crew you slew.

And though I want to end you with every fiber of my being,
I won’t tarnish the memories of my closest friends for anyone, let alone you.”

Ahtekan cracked his staff against Moris’s jaw,
causing him to spin wildly before falling to the ground completely and totally unconscious.

The trial before him now vanquished, Ahtekan entered the building, a fire lit in his soul
to finish what his now-long-since-gone crew set out to complete many years ago.

Inside the structure, steam and gears rumbled.
A lone pillar, surrounded by ancient screens and dials, stood.

A roughly glowing spherical object sat atop the pillar:
the Augerite stone
its shimmer was as brilliant as the most precious of diamonds
but as deep a blue as the now forgotten oceans,
the culmination of the Orb Project,
some state that it was
the catalyst of what caused the very earth itself to become barren,
to be razed to its core.
However even that information was vexing as all truth
was desperately hidden
for what reason was still unknown.

Ahtekan reaches forward grasping the stone,
releasing it from the claws that held it fast atop the pillar.
As the steam hissed and raged around him,
A tear fell down his face as he spoke to himself:

“I will never let your deaths be in vain, my brothers and sisters.
I will finish what we started with this final heist
and find the true meaning behind that tragedy that has befallen us.”
Ahtekan lets out a deep sigh what feels like a lifetime of anxiety to avenge
his fallen crew, it had finally reached its culmination.

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If you have made it to this point I want to thank you for your time, I hope you find this entertaining and enjoyable until next time.

Keep wandering the maze with me — Connor Mancuso