Memory Obelisk

A Memory Obelisk keeps your experience safe to the last point: put it into the stone and it is not lost when you die, nor spent on the steep prices of high levels. And while you are within eight blocks of the obelisk, the anvil, the enchanting table and the Reckoning Desk take their price from it, at the lowest price: your own levels stay with you.

Use the obelisk with an empty hand and its window opens. Put in a level or all of it, take out a level or all, or stand on the level you need — the obelisk puts in the surplus or makes up the lack itself. Glass Bottles fill into Bottles o' Enchanting: each costs seven points and, broken, gives exactly seven, with no luck either way. A Glass Bottle in hand on the obelisk fills one.

Prices in levels are cheaper low down: five levels from the fifth cost 55 points, from the fortieth — 875. The obelisk pays as if you stood on the lowest level that allows the price: a five-level repair at the anvil costs 55 points, the thirtieth-level line of the table — 306. That is what a careful crafter would do by hand, only without the fuss and without loss. If the obelisk lacks it, you pay yourself, as usual.

The obelisk holds a hundred levels — 30,970 points. Its owner is whoever set it down: they decide who else may use it — nobody, the trusted from a list, or anyone — and whether it pays for work nearby. Broken by hand, the obelisk carries its experience along; someone else's personal one does not yield to a pickaxe, and explosions do not take it. A comparator reads how full it is.

The Reckoners measured flux to the last part. Memory — the experience of the living — they took for the same flux, only set in whoever lived it, and they learned to lay it in stone like water behind a weir. The runes in the obelisk's groove fill with its pale gold from the bottom up: as much light, as much memory.