Eventually the snowfall thins enough to see the sun, a pale glow just above the horizon. The outlines of rocks and stunted trees peek out from the drifts, and distant screams and shouts float on the wind.

If she sensibly keeps going towards the screams rather than away, she will eventually come to the lip of a small valley. There are buildings down there, unimposing one-story houses tucked away in the lee of the wind, and around ten people running around shooting arrows and jabbing spears at a flock of flying creatures who keep trying to land next to them. It's not clear whether the people on the ground or the flyers are doing most of the screaming, but it sounds very heated.

The flying creatures look like giant birds with a human torso and a pair of arms separate from their wings. Whenever they manage to land, they start dancing like demented ballerinas, and possibly singing as well (it's hard to hear over the general racket), but the humans quickly drive them off.

Some of the flyers hit by arrows have had enough. With angry screeches, they divebomb the three archers and carries them off bodily before the spearmen can close in, arms and clawed feet awkwardly wrapped around the men who gamely try to stab them with daggers. After gaining enough height, they drop them. Amazingly, one of the archers gets back up; he wisely staggers into a nearby house rather than continue fighting.

The other humans scream angrily and redouble their attack, but they seem to be on the back foot now.

Screams mean people in trouble- People at all. Even if trouble finds her, it's better than being lost in the snow alone.

-Shit! There are evil constructs attacking people. She can't not help, risk of discovery to the city, or not.

She flips a switch, and the armor clangs and groans as mechanisms open up further. She can do more than just walk now- She leaps off the lip of the valley, trusting the shock absorbers to hold up the huge bulk of her armored suit, then runs. She's not an amazing marksman, she'll have to get closer.

The flyers notice her first. They break off their attack and fly towards her; a lone target looks more enticing. There are no archers left, and the spearmen follow at a distance but seem reluctant to approach more closely.

-Clawed constructs flying at you is SCARY! Even if you have armor! Now seems like a good time to stop and unsling her shock blaster, leveling it at the nearest one and snapping off a hasty bolt of lightning! Nice thing about lightning, it's easy to aim if you don't care about friendly fire.

The lightning obligingly hits the nearest flying monster; it sizzles around it before dripping off, leaving it unharmed and looking quite smug. The other monsters screech triumphantly.

Oh fuck, of course the constructs are immune to lightning. 

She freezes for a bare moment, then drops the lightning blaster, though it's still attached by a thick cable, and fumbles slightly to bring up the blunderbuss with her left fist instead. The right one has a mining drill attached to it and can't hold anything.

Two of the monsters land next to her, and try to grab her with their claws. The other three land some distance away and start dancing again (it looks even weirder up close). Seeing this, the spearmen break into a sprint towards the dancing monsters.

The suit is not exactly very mobile, but she steps back in a clumsy dodge and swings at one construct defensively with the drill arm, which is spinning viciously. (The drill misses, but might force it to back off a bit, at least.) The other one clawing at her gets a boxy weapon pointed at it, center mass almost directly touching its torso, and there's a loud KSSHHHHHHH, as a dozen steel balls are flung out at five feet of range, along with a jet of superheated steam.

"AAAAAAAH FUCK YOU, GET SOME!"

-No, don't swing wildly again. Go back to neutral stance, trust in the armor. Don't fall over. Don't fall over. Don't fall over. Steady stance.

That monster now has a dozen huge holes through its body! It looks surprised more than anything, and doesn't fall over, but it does jump back and keep a respectful distance.

The other one keeps circling around Waltana, trying to get her from behind. They might be underestimating the range of her steam shotgun.

The remaining monsters have been surrounded by spearmen, who have them at a two-to-one disadvantage. This time, though, they stand their ground and keep dancing despite being stabbed.

And then lightning explodes from the monsters, and strikes everyone indiscriminately.

Two of the spearmen fall over, and don't get back up; one of the bodies is smoking. The others yell and keep stabbing until the monsters reluctantly take off again. Both sides seem wounded and exhausted; the monsters don't try to land again.

The mania is taking over now. She's in 'the crazy place'. The constructs scratch at the steel armor, tear open thick leather coverings, damage conduits and connections as they attack her joints, making her more furious by the second. Swinging her drill arm as it extends and thrusts and lashes into flesh, and screaming, blood singing in terror and exhilaration.

She notices the crazy, but she doesn't care because "You STUPID CONSTRUCTS think you can zap me?!? Ha, I'm grounded too you FOOLS! My steel and steam will RUIN YOU! FLEE like the GUTLESS COWARDS YOU ARE!"

Slap the blunderbuss against the port on the armored suit's chest, that loads another dozen projectiles into it. Aim and fire with another KSSHHHHHHH. 

They probably mostly miss. It's a short range weapon. She could make something to strike them down, a long enough tube could launch the drill arm like a spear of justice into their cowardly backs and-

-They're getting further away by the second. "And don't come back, lest you taste the STING of DESTRUCTION!"

Now. What ELSE is around here that might IRRITATE her, HMM?

The monsters are getting away, flying up the slope where the spearmen can't follow easily. They yell angrily and shake their spears, but are quickly forced to give up the chase.

One of them tends to their fallen comrades. He pours a vial into the mouth of one body, which immediately sits up and smiles the smile of a man who knows that today, at least, he's done his fair share and can take it easy. Then he picks up the other casualty (still gently smoking) and carries it back towards the houses. He saunters along like it's no big deal to lift two hundred pounds of armored dead weight, and neither is facing the apparent death of your comrade-in-arms.

The remaining three watch her cautiously. Incomprehensible, incomprehensible incomprehensible? one of them calls out in her direction.

OH, so THESE GUYS are sparky TOO. Constructs themselves? Or merely inundated with some sort of device.

"I definitely cannot understand you. The Captain warned me about this. Outsiders and their outsider tongues... That's not even Baltemic, or the Europan tongue..."

HMPH. The flying ones were obviously aggressors to outside appearance, but she should CHECK to MAKE SURE in the future.

She turns, winces at how something worryingly hitches in the mechanisms, and puts her blunderbuss away, then reaches for the lightning gun dragging on the ground and looks it over for damage, before doing the same.

She feels cold and sweaty as the energy of the fight leaves her. And now... She's lost, out of contact with the city, in contact with a bunch of outsiders. A lone spark, who may well be mistrusted and put in danger by the warring powers out here.

...She doesn't know much about the outside world, aside from how Sparks like her fight and kill each other basically all the time. Shit. But she can at least thumb the canopy open, revealing the top half of her face and red hair, and have the suit wave and nod reassuringly at them?

"Greetings! I'm lost."

Excited incomprehensible! This construct has a human in it! Or at least half a human head, but the rest is probably inside somewhere too, unless - incomprehensible numeria?

After trying several different-sounding phrases to no effect, they beckon her to follow them back toward the houses.

...She may as well follow. Carefully. Man, these guys aren't doing so great, are they? The city's housing is at least solidly built, with nice roads and the odd park and electric lights.

Her huge armored suit makes a scraping sound whenever the right leg moves forward, but she follows at a solid jogging pace easily enough.

The houses are either very low-technology, or successfully masqueraded as such. They're made out of stone, brick and wood, and the windows are firmly boarded up against the wind (and possibly the flying monsters).

More people come out as they approach; most of them seem to be walking wounded, greeting the returning fighters. Everyone crowds around a woman in shining armor (it glows in a pleasant off-white color) with a bright blue butterfly painted on the front.

Once Waltana has come close, the woman says something that seems to cheer everyone up. They begin moving much more energetically, with clear purpose and a spring in their step.

If Waltana had any minor aches or wounds, she may notice they have mysteriously disappeared.

Also in the crowd is a man, the only one not wearing metal armor, who is holding up a page covered in handwriting and glancing rapidly between it and Waltana's face. Incomprehensible, he says when he catches her attention, and then seems to settle on pantomime.

He points to his mouth, Waltana, his ears; shakes his head sorrowfully. Then he holds up the page, stretches his other hand as far as he can towards Waltana's face, wiggles his fingers, and says uncomprehend incomprehensible! in a triumphant tone. 

He goes through the pantomime again. This time when he touches his head, his metal headband starts glowing, just like the woman's armor. He makes an exaggerated happy face, and nods rapidly.

Then he stretches out his hand again, and cautiously approaches. Will Waltana let him touch her cheek?

"Woah."

Weird area-healing effect? Not that she was particularly injured, just the usual scrapes and aches from suit usage. She's still sweaty and tired, too. But it was clearly some form of ENERGY that suddenly rushed through everyone, she SAW wounds and pains vanish suddenly she WANTS that same energy for HERSELF and needs to OBSERVE it happening some more-

...She's not very keen on letting a strange man touch her face. She holds a metal fist in front of herself in warning. Manic paranoia runs through her head, but if she can't trust the people she just fought off evil constructs with, who can she trust? What if she - pops open the right side collar, in the way she'd normally use to scramble up and out of the suit, and raises her right arm out, wearing leather gloves and a full-covering heavy leather coat?

That will do! He taps her leather armor, and - finger wiggle! The writing on the page he's holding sparkles and disappears, leaving it blank.

Knowledge floods her brain: a new language (Taldane), a new alphabet (Jitska), words and concepts all mixed together. She can understand what everyone's saying now! Not the proper nouns, and she lacks a lot of context, and has no idea how she knows all this. (The disappearing writing used some other alphabet that remains as opaque as ever.)

"Testing, testing, can you understand me now?" the man says, and continues without giving her a chance to reply - "I'm Otho, and we're the Black Spears adventuring company out of Andoran" (a country name, her new knowledge supplies). "Thanks for the assist! Viatrix over there is our leader" - he points to the woman in shining armor.

"Only when I have to be," she agrees cheerfully, "for talking to stuffy types who insist on seeing someone called 'commander'. What's your name? I've never seen armor like yours before, is it some kind of construct or golem?"

"I obviously couldn't just stand there, lost and confused or not!"

She pops the other half of her collar, so they can see her head and shoulders, but doesn't actually climb out. 

"Waltana Hampson."

Should she imply she's not, personally, a Spark? Would it be better to be known as such, or more an anonymous minion using someone else's creations?

She feels a rush of indignation and pride. They're HER creations. And she won't be able to hide the mania for long anyway.

"Yes, behold! The power and force of steel and steam, and of course the Spark to make it all work."

"The Spark? That didn't translate. Is it magic? A god? A metaphor?"

"I heard some people in Numeria animate constructs with lightning", Otho volunteers, "lightning is pretty sparkly." And she used lightning, so it's an obvious guess.

"The Spark? Why, it's nothing less than... The Spark! You're sparky," she points at the paper-wielding man. "Brilliant and a tad scary, whatever you did! And the healing! A new form of energy, yes, to harness, for mighty devices! I want to learn it!"

"That's just magic", she says casually.

"There's nothing 'just' about magic!" Otho objects. "Magic is the most important fundamental force of the universe, and also the most beautiful! You don't appreciate it properly, because you're used to having it done for you!"

"I appreciate Desna, for giving me magic! The magic itself isn't anything special, even you can do it!" This has the sound of an old argument.

"Let me try to explain," Otho says to Waltana, "the spell only does words, it's not great at meaning. So, lots of people use magic in different ways. Those who are smart enough to actually understand what they're doing, to invent things and write books and learn from each other and build Civilization, are called wizards. Like me." He grins smugly.

"Other people have magic powers because they're just a magical kind of creature, or had magical ancestors. They can use them instinctively but they don't understand them, like children learn to walk without understanding mechanics. These are called sorcerers, or whatever kind of creature they are."

"And some people get magic as a gift or a trade from powerful entities. Clerics like our friend here get them from gods. Then there's druids, shamans, oracles, witches..."

"Ignore him," Viatrix whispers loudly, "he likes to show off knowing lots of words."

"...mediums, paladins, summoners, rangers, familiar spirits, and many others," Otho goes on pointedly. "How does your 'spark' work? Did you learn it, or inherit it, or find it, or get it from Someone?" The last word uses the grammatical case for 'gods', but this doesn't tell Waltana what 'gods' are, exactly, beyond apparently deserving their own set or pronouns.

Honestly, Otho has the right idea! The powers of the world are worthy of appreciation, especially the act of harnessing them!

"I'm beginning to think I've been lied to about the outside world-" wait shit that implies the existence of the city "-even more than I already suspected. I hope some of it is a lie, honestly, it would be really quite depressing if Sparks - magic people - really do constantly murder each other... There's so much POTENTIAL! Why waste it with something as stupid as DEATH and BETRAYAL and POINTLESS BACKSTABBING! A shame, I say! With the power of the MIND and the natural forces of the world there should be NOTHING we cannot achieve!"

This seems to have been the right thing to say! The members of the Black Spearmen crowd around her excitedly. "Hurrah for the potential of the human species!" someone shouts, and "the stars are our destiny!"

"What are you, an Arodenite? Desna says the stars are our destination" -

"What about elves, don't they get some stars?" objects a man with pointy ears.

"They've been interplanetary for ages, if they haven't gotten to the stars yet, I don't think they care," opines another.

Viatrix ignores the babble with aplomb. "I completely agree! Where are you from? We Desnans are born travelers, so I've probably at least heard of it. And if the place has more people like you, it's probably worth a visit!"

"I don't think people with magic try to murder each other more than other people do," Otho says thoughtfully to himself, completely ignoring the other conversations, "we just have more power, so we end up killing more people. But they - we - also help and save more people with magic! Magic is, like, the most important multiplier to anything you do. As the saying goes, not all important people are wizards, but all powerful wizards are important."

"If only, if only! The strong could refrain from stepping on the weak! But sadly, if you are strong, and nice, someone less strong and mean will win! -I don't know any of these people. Have you heard of Wulfenbach? Albia? The Heterodynes and their Jaegermonsters?"