Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Oh. So you’ve decided to be soul-bonded after all, have you?” I focused on my hands, trying to reconnect with them. It was the strangest sensation, because they weren’t numb. They just felt like… ‘not me’. “Still at 17% durability, I see.”

  Wonderful. Sudden onset Alzheimer's Disease, no clothes, no fucking idea where I was, and a weapon with 15 base damage at Level 13. I could probably kill some rats with it, provided they were normal sized rats. Then I could employ my mastery of Leatherworking to make myself a rat-skin thong and wreak vengeance on the world. It would serve Whats-His-Face the Bad King right if that was the last thing he ever saw. I couldn’t remember his name, either.

  I used the Spear like a cane, sweeping it ahead of myself as I began to cautiously explore the room I was in. I froze when the spear clunked against a large, rectangular block of stone - a coffin-sized block of stone.

  “Shit.” I jerked away in case some unseen animated corpse came lurching out. “Dear God of Darkness - if I’m supposed to be your Herald, why the fuck didn’t you give me darkvision?”

  A ghostly light kindled to life behind me, throbbing like a slow heartbeat. I felt a bead of sweat run down my temple - or at least, I hoped it was sweat. Slowly, I turned around.

  The glow emanated from a nine-pointed chaos star-like symbol: the symbol of Matir. It was about half a foot long, glowing brightly enough that it illuminated the mummified flowers I’d smelled before, along with an offering of coins and jewelry on the remains of a small, hexagonal altar set above the sarcophagus. Curious, I gingerly touched the rune, and was rewarded with... nothing. No darkvision, no sudden magic power. The only thing that happened was that the dim light steadied out.

  “Weird. But okay.” I frowned, flexing my fingers. Now that I could see them, they felt more connected. They looked normal, and as the seconds passed, I found myself syncing back up. Once I was sure my hands weren’t about to fall off, I searched the altar for any clues, and glanced up when I noticed a trio of inscriptions in different languages.

  One of the engravings looked like it was made of funny squiggles and shapes, almost like a magical script. One was more like Sumerian or Babylonian Cuneiform, with lots of triangles and straight lines. And the last one – a flowing vertical script similar to Mongolian – was my language, Tuun. And even weirder… I could read it.

  In darkness you were conceived;

  To the darkness you were sworn.

  In the darkness you have found your peace,

  And through darkness shall you be reborn -

  Here lie the fallen of Kalla Kulesi, who joined us in our battle against the Trauvin.

  Matir’s Blessing be upon these Honored Dead in their nest of loving earth.

  I slowly recited the passage, stumbling over the translation at points. I had no idea what a ‘Trauvin’ was… but I could read. And that was strange.

  Heart hammering, I turned to look at the rest of the crypt where I’d somehow respawned. It was small, barely ten by ten feet, with only two tombs. One was missing its lid, the other was not. There was a rusted iron gate at the end of the room I hadn’t yet searched, leading out into the inky blackness beyond. There was no corpse in the open sarcophagus, but there was in the closed one. I only got a glimpse of the skeletal face and empty eye sockets before my naked skin crawled and I slid the lid back into place.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “There’s nothing here.”

  The room did not reply.

  Frustrated, I searched around, using the dim light to try and spot anything I’d missed in my first minutes of terror. The gate wasn’t locked, but the outside area beyond this tiny room was so dark as to be impenetrable. A cool wind moaned from somewhere outside. The place would be crawling with monsters. I wasn’t walking out there naked, with a shitty spear and no light.

  Panic began to set in. I felt disconnected and floaty as I paced back and forth, at a loss for what to do. My dragon... she’s trapped in that circle, and she’s helpless. One of your friends is in a cell, and she has to be terrified. The others are going to meet the bad guy, and he’s going to bring those fucking murder-ghosts as backup. They’re expecting treachery, but not an undead that can kill the head of the Kingsguard in a single hit. King What’s-His-Face going to wipe the floor with them.

  I looked back out into the darkness, mouth dry with fear. What do I know about Matir? Fuck. He... he hates the undead. I remember that.

  The rune’s light was starting to fade. I walked back to it, searching the altar for anything that might help. None of the jewelry was magical, but I found myself looking back to the sarcophagus - the one with the body. The thought of raiding the coffin squicked me the hell out. In some games I’d played, it had only been mildly disturbing. In a full sensory immersion scenario, it was as creepy as it would have been IRL.

  “He hates the undead, so that prayer and the sigil... they’re probably a protective spell for the dead to keep them from being animated or to guard against ghosts or something? I edged toward the coffin. “He’s the god of the normally-dead. So the ‘death is a natural part of life’ thing, and the dead don’t take their belongings with them, so…”

  I pushed the lid open properly this time, exposing the ancient corpse.

  It was wizened, dry, but recognizable as male. He was fully dressed. I couldn’t really make out much detail, but his heavily-armored hands were resting on his sternum, the knuckles touching. There was something dignified about him… even serene.

  My HUD - super bright against the near-blackness - immediately began to highlight things of interest.

  [Belt of Tiger’s Spirit]

  [Barrier Shirt]

  [Blindfighter’s Fold]

  [Sanctified Cold Iron Gauntlets]

  [Ancient Kamanocha]

  [Boots of the Winding Path]

  Kamanocha. That was a Tuun word. A Kamanocha was a very special kind of dagger from Tungaant... but I couldn’t bring the specifics to mind. Fuck. I am even still in Taltos?

  Agitated, I bought up the summary descriptions for each item and had the system read them to me:

  Belt of Tiger’s Spirit

  Magical Item

  5 Armor

  Slot: Belt

  +5 bonus against fear

  +5 bonus to intimidate checks

  An ancient Vlachian shaman bound the spirit of a tiger to this leather belt, which was made from its skin.

  Barrier Shirt

  Magical Armor

  125 Armor

  25% chance that backstabs, critical hits and sneak attacks will be treated as normal attacks, with no bonus damage.

  Light armor

  Body slot

  82% durability

  Armor to protect against those who would fight dishonorably.

  Sanctified Cold Iron Gauntlets

  Magical Armor/Weapon

  50 Armor

  Item Class: Relic

  Item Quality: Exceptional

  Damage: 65 x 2 Bludgeoning

  Durability: 55% (-2 damage)

  Weight: 10 lb x 2

  Special: Darkness element. x3 damage against the Undead. x2 damage against monsters weak to cold iron. +20 bonus Adrenaline Points.

  These skillfully forged, heavy but flexible full-arm gauntlets are the traditional weapons and armor of the Baru, warrior-monks in service to Burna. They appear to be completely made of pitted cold iron, yet they have no rust.

  Blindfighter’s Fold

  Magical Item

  Glasses Slot

  Special: Obscures normal vision while granting the Blind-Fighting ability.

  Created in a ritual by a Khatvaana, a priest of the Left Hand Path in the cult of Burna, the Blindfighter’s Fold is an important teaching tool used to train Baru for the ranks of the Dark Moon Brothers.

  Ancient Kamanocha

  Magical Weapon

  Item Class: Relic

  Item Quality: Masterwork

  Damage: 50-74 piercing

  Durability: 100%


  Weight: 0.5 lb

  Special: Mercy Strike - This weapon has a specific, special enchantment. If the dagger is drawn to commit an act of euthanasia, this knife deals x15 piercing damage to the target. If the weapon is ever used to strike a target in an act of aggression - offensive or defensive - this enchantment is lost and can only be regained by taking it to a temple of Burna.

  Special: Brittle - This weapon is made of specially tempered bone that is as hard as steel when used to stab, but is still weaker than metal against certain forms of stress. Tuun bone weapons take x2 damage from bludgeoning weapons or crushing damage. Slashing with a Kamanocha degrades the weapon quality normally. If they are used to Pierce, they take no loss to durability. Tuun bone weapons cannot be reforged.

  A long dagger made from the chemically and magically tempered bone of a human femur, Kamanocha (Kah-mo-notch-ah) are special ritual tools carried by Tuun as religious heirlooms. Kamanocha are created and consecrated by priests or monks for specific purposes, and may not be drawn or used for any other purpose lest the spirit of the person who donated the bone.

  Baru traditionally carry a special Kamanocha which is used only for acts of euthanasia so that the monk may grant terminally ill or injured people a swift, painless death.

  Boots of the Winding Path

  Magical Armor

  Item Class: Artifact

  85 Armor

  Durability: 78%

  Weight: 3lb

  Special: +10 movement-related checks on unstable surfaces; +5 Stamina

  Boots made of hookwing leather and enchanted to be supernaturally resilient. There are small metal cleats on the soles that make them suitable for hiking in mountains and wilderness.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. Now that I looked, certain things about this corpse were recognizable. His hair was long - very long, separated into two narrow braids that reached past his knees. This guy was Tuun - and he had to be a baru, one of Matir’s warrior-healer monks. But that made no sense. Tuun weren’t from this continent - we came from Daun, the Western continent on the other side of the ocean. There had been no migration between Daun and Artana before the invention of airships. Had there?

  “Vlachian cloak, Tuun gear... but we don’t bury our dead in Tungaant,” I muttered aloud. “We do sky burials with giant insects. This baru was injured really badly when he died. Broken ribs, crushed skull. He died fighting. A hero? Yeah... but a hero in Vlachia who was given a burial in pre-Khorsian times.... which means I have to be in Taltos. Somewhere in the underground.”

  Call me old-fashioned, but I didn’t like the idea of robbing graves, especially now that I was marked as an oathbreaker. But as I studied the body, there was no sense of judgement from either him or Matir. Instead, I could almost hear the monk whispering to me. Take them.

  Reverently, I lifted out the knife, and then carefully removed the other objects. I pulled on the chain shirt and belted the Belt of Tiger’s Spirit on over it. The gauntlets were powerful weapons, but they were obscenely heavy. I equipped them anyway, testing out the range of motion. As the description said, they were surprisingly flexible, allowing me to properly ball my hands into fists. I put on the blindfold last, acutely aware that I was now wearing everything but pants.

  The blindfold didn’t help me see - but the world around me opened up in a silent rush without the need for vision. When I tied it on, I could somehow sense the location of nearby objects. The edge of the open sarcophagus, the small altar to Matir, the body of the fallen baru… I knew exactly where they were. It was more like sonar than darkvision, but it was almost as good as seeing in the dark.

  Feeling more confident - if no less breezy downstairs - I went back to the altar and gathered up the offerings of jewelry. The rings were ordinary treasures, but I could sell them once I had Tidbit back and this shit was over and done with. I no longer had an Inventory to store items, so now I had rings on along with everything else - except underwear.

  I belted the Kamanocha on my hips, then pushed toward the iron gate and brought up my mini-map. It was mostly a big blank space beyond the door - a big round space with little nooks and narrow corridors coming off it. I stepped out, and as the sound open up, I could ‘see’. What I perceived made me gasp.

  Dragons.

  There were six colossal biers arranged in a ring around this room, and each stone platform held the skeletal remains of a dragon. They were all curled up the way that Tidbit liked to sleep: balled on their side with their tail wrapped around their body, one foreclaw clasped over their snout, the other arm, wing, and both legs drawn up. I wandered over to the closest one, awe-struck. Taltos had used to be a dragon city… and I’d respawned in one of their tombs.

  There was an inscription at the base of the bier. I crouched down to have a look, but this one was not in three languages - only one, the sticks-and-triangles script. Is that draconic script? Draconic writing?

  I moved out into the dragons’ crypt, turning and waiting to face each corridor to see which one was the windiest. That was the one I chose. When I left the security of walls, the Blindfighting ability was less useful - for a couple of minutes, I had nothing but the disturbing groan of the wind rattling through ancient tomb corridors to guide me. The tunnel was easier to navigate than the open tomb. I broke off into a jog, trying to put the pieces of my memory together as I headed back up, toward the surface.

  Thirty minutes or so later, my HUD chirped. [You have a new message from Rin Lu.]

  “WRU??” It began. ”We’re in the Imperial Crypt and Andrik will be here any minute now! (O.O!)/”

  Andrik. That’s right. “I died. Andrik had some crazy-powerful monsters guarding my dragon.”

  “OMG! Is Karalti okay!?”

  Relief washed over me as I heard her name again… and with it came a few lost memories. She wasn’t Level 3 any more - she was just barely Level 6. I knew there were other things I’d forgotten, but piecing the gaps together was going to have to wait. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “What monsters did you fight down there?” Rin asked after a minute or so.

  “Two ‘Void Wraiths’. Ring any bells?”

  There was a short pause before she replied. “No way.”

  “Yah way.”

  “Void Wraiths shouldn’t be in Artana! They shouldn’t even be able to spawn yet!” She messaged back. “You’re sure!?”

  “They hit me for over 1000 points of freezing damage by looking at me, so yeah.”

  “Oh no! Void Wraiths are endgame monsters. Minimum Level 40 (T__T)”

  “Do they have any weaknesses? Restrictions?”

  “Umm... they’re incorporeal undead, so they’ll be weak to Dark and Light magic, immune to Time, Gravity and physical hits… but even if we somehow magically had Shadowfall or Deliverance at our level, I-I know if we could beat one unless it was REALLY nerfed…”

  There was a slight pause before she sent another message. “Hey! You just appeared on my map! You must be close /(TwT)/”

  I was heading up a flight of hollowed out stairs. When I glanced at my own map, I saw Rin’s icon. It was dim, meaning she was on a different floor to me. I wasn’t sure how many I had left to go. “I see you, too. I must be under the Imperial Crypt. That’s good news for us re: wraiths - this place is consecrated to Matir and there’s magic active on the premises. That’s why I respawned here, I think. BRT.”

  “OK… but hurry! I think Andrik is here, and-”

  “What?” I picked up my pace as much as I could, breaking out into what looked to me like part of the Lethos Cellars. “Rin?”

  There was no reply.

  Chapter 43

  I ran through the levels of cold catacombs, through halls stacked with old bones, reliquaries, and - eventually - torches. There were no monsters down here, the undead kept at bay by the many small, active wards that flared to life on the walls whenever I passed them. As I got closer to Rin’s blinking marker, I heard the sound of steel clashing against steel, shouts and scream
s... the sounds of combat.

  I wrenched open the first door I found and squeezed into a narrow corridor barely wide enough for my shoulders to pass - like a maintenance shaft, or some kind of secret channel for sneaking behind the walls of the Imperial Crypt - effectively the basement of the biggest church in the city - to eavesdrop.

  Wincing, I shuffled like a crab down the confines of the passage, chafing all the way. I still didn’t have any pants, which made this more of an adventure than I would have preferred. The sounds of combat grew louder, but there was little light and no sign of an exit. I was beginning to think I needed to go back when I finally realized what this stupidly tight corridor was for. Above my head, about eight feet off the ground, was a ventilation panel.

  “Hmm.” I narrowed my eyes while I considered how the hell I was going to get myself and the Spear out through such an awkward exit. I experimentally reached up to jab at it with the blunt end of my weapon. As I did, there was a weird whomp sound that cut through the air with a wave of bitter cold, and a hoarse feminine shout - Ebisa’s voice.

  “No time.” I clamped my teeth together and started to bash the grate in earnest. The plaster around it crumbled, and the wire dented with every blow. A dozen hits, and I knocked it out to the ground. I threw the Spear through first, jumped up, Spider Climbed the wall, and pulled myself through.

  I slithered out to land on awkwardly on an altar, scattering candles, flowers, a white silk runner and an urn to floor. I desperately lunged out to catch it. It smacked into my palm, and had I not been wearing the Cold Iron Gauntlets, it would have stopped. Instead, the delicate porcelain slid along the leather and thick iron plating, toppled to the floor, and shattered in a cloud of ash.

  “Oh my god,” I moaned, trying not to breathe as I backed up, dusting myself frantically. “I am so sorry.”

  There was nothing I could do for the remains of Volod Wizimir the Second, so I pulled the silk runner, beat the ashes out of it - wincing the entire time - and tied it around like a girdle. Or a diaper. It was better than nothing.