by Aaron Jay
I could feel the marrow in my bones change. My bones themselves began to creak. They snapped into a more perfect alignment and hardened. My ligaments and cartilage were washed and changed.
My thoughts sped up. My eyes noticed every detail around me. The sisters’ wrinkles. The hair in one of their warts. I could almost see through the barrier. I could almost see what the death of the fallow was made of.
Game announcements pinged in the background. I couldn’t stop whatever this was to check them.
Black, ichorous sweat squeezed from my skin: all the contaminants and toxins trapped in my body, forced out. It mixed with the tar of my previous alchemy failures.
Chedipe took the bowl that had held my blood and walked a few steps into the fallow and scooped a handful of its dust into the bowl. Then she walked to the barrier and she somehow scooped a handful of something from the place beyond into the bowl. It was every color and none. It moved and stayed still, it was formless.
The bowl held the dead stasis of the fallow, the formless chaos of the wilds beyond, and my blood.
She stirred it as her sisters shuffled in a sort of dance around me, chanting, and she forced me to drink once again.
Being stabbed, bled, and cooked were nothing compared to this. I realized that what had gone before was a form of practice. All my suffering before now was merely a rehearsal. Without this experience I could never survive being destroyed and recreated. The pain and pleasure were indescribable. But I knew that I would survive. I, me, would remain no matter what.
My stomach cramped and I hurled. This description is too limited. All the things that had been trapped in my body came out. Every precancerous growth. Every dead cell. Every trace of heavy metal. Everything the newly refined me had rejected came out. All the emotions I had bottled. Every bruise to my body and soul. Desires that I had stuffed down poured out into a black splash. Every secret I had been keeping from others and myself poured out in a giant series of heaves.
There was a flash. The pentagram shattered and I collapsed to my knees.
I didn’t fall unconscious. It was the opposite of that. I was more conscious than I had ever been.
The three sisters had disappeared. My strip of a garden had been blown down and trampled by the forces of the ceremony. Life from beyond the barrier had been thrown out into the fallow but was quickly being denuded of its vitality. Dust from the fallow had likewise eaten a few holes into the barrier that were being repaired.
My laughter startled Remus, who gave me an irritated look after he leaped back from my explosion of laughter.
“Sorry buddy,” I said.
I stood up and the tarlike stuff on my skin from my alchemy failures and the ceremony sloughed off of me like a snake’s skin. It fell into the awful sick-up I had ejected. I felt reborn.
My gaze fell onto the blinking notice, and windows popped up one after another.
NPC Alchemy Master Merga has stabbed you with the Gom Jabbar
1hp damage
NPC Junior Master Agnes has stabbed you with the Gom Jabbar.
Bleeding status 1 hp/3 seconds
NPC Grand Master Alchemist Chedipe casts
Sympathetic Bond
Synchronization increased from 18%… 32%… 45%… 51%
Sympathetic Bond blood is being boiled.
Burning status 2hp/sec
You have imbibed a potion of Materia Prima
Materia Prima: a personalized potion of transfiguration made of your physical, mental and spiritual essence by three master alchemists including a Grandmaster.
Effect 1:
Str +1
Int +1
Wis +1
Dex +1
Con +1
Cha +1
Effect 2: increases Alchemy skill to Intermediate rank
Effect 3: removes all foreign influences, geasa, status effects.
Potion will last for 24 hours.
23:57 remaining…
You have imbibed Materia Prima. Automatic Quest Engaged.
With great benefits must come great risks.
Epic grade and above items challenge the balance of the Game universe. To thwart the will of heaven by using such items, you must survive the tribulations that fate demands. Success will make potion effects permanent.
Possible punishments for failing the quest: Permanent character death, mutation, loss of skills, stats, abilities, levels.
My god, that potion was incredibly broken. Six additional stat points were equivalent to – one additional stat per four levels gained… twenty-four levels of bonus attributes. If the risk and reward thing are commensurate, I really was about to get crushed. Was the list of failure penalties cumulative or singular? I had a bad feeling.
The last thing my father had said was, “It will be more painful than it needed to be but perhaps that is for the best. It is also an opportunity.” My dad’s opportunity was going to kill me.
There was nothing to do but see what sort of Heavenly Tribulation would come for in the next twenty four hours, well 23 hours and 57 minutes.
With the stat bumps from the potion, I felt amazing. I hadn’t felt this good since I had woken up in my father’s office with Hamartia temporarily isolated. I was free. Or, so I thought.
A gurgling, sucking noise and a waft of some awful stench pulled my attention back to the world around me.
The pool of my vomit and alchemy napalm lying in the remains of the pentagram began to bubble.
Remus growled at it but kept his distance.
Your Heavenly Tribulation will arrive in
5… 4… 3…
Somehow, the pool was growing. More and more disgusting liquid was bubbling up from below. Before I knew what to do, the pool had grown to a few feet in diameter. It stilled for a moment and then, as if something from below had built up pressure, another wave of the stuff churned up, expanding it further.
A scaled leg ending in a three-taloned set of claws pushed out of the pool and grabbed onto the bank. It scrabbled until it found some purchase and flexed, trying to haul something up that seemed too big to fit out from the depths below. It gave up for the moment and slipped back down into the pool.
Another round of black liquid pulsed out, widening the diameter of the pool.
A shoulder and then a saurian snout tried to push its way out of the pool. Its nostrils blew sludge clear and it tasted the air above. The opening was still too small. It lowered its head and then swallowed giant mouthfuls of the fetid liquid, draining the pit by half a foot. I could see it working the stuff around in some sort of throat pouch. After a brief pause, it spit the sludge back out. A seemingly endless stream of peristaltic contractions pushed more and more black sludge out the pool, which grew wider and wider.
Finally, the pool was big enough for the thing to scrabble out into the valley, its sides heaving. The sludge dripped off its scales. A tongue washed an eye clear.
HeLLo MiLEs. I toLD yOu I’d bE seEIng yOu sOon!
I couldn’t believe that thing had been inside me.
It seemed impossible that the Game would have stats on this thing, but for lack of a better idea I attempted to identify Hamartia.
Hamartia
(Infernal Dragon)
hI MIles! YoU kNOw me. WHy arE yOu boTheRIng tO tRy aND iDenTIfy ME? oH wELl. HAvE a loOk. It woN’t MaKe a diFfeREnce.
Hamartia
A creature of the nether realms. It incubates inside its victim/host until mature, when it will burst forth, typically killing the host. There is some chance of it permanently bonding with its host, causing a race change in the host. You should have choSen tHIs rOutTE ;)
Level 14
HP 120 (6d6*6)
Skills: Deception +6, Stealth +6, Perception +6
Attacks: ThE uSuAl. Can wE gET oN wIth tHIs?
With a hiss, Hamartia lunged at me. I retreated and it seemed to enjoy crushing my herbs as it ran me down.
Raising my hand, I unleashed my ring of spell storage. Magic missiles struck
one after another, merely shoving it slightly to one side for a step. There were no damage notifications. Great.
Whipping through my weapon choices, I grabbed an axe I had gotten off one of the Wyrmmdiggers way back when. I drew it from my inventory and braced myself. I swung it in a looping figure eight, trying to time my attack.
Hamartia snapped its head at me like a snake. I blocked and backed up. It started circling me. It was faster than me. Much faster. It attacked from one side and the next and I kept giving ground.
The barrier could stop it from coming from one side. I sidled next to the barrier and used it to keep at least one flank protected.
Its eyes held that same inhuman intelligence I had seen in it back when Lilith had first offered it to me. It attacked me from my right. That happened to be the side that had the barrier. Turns out the barrier didn’t stop Hamartia a bit.
Its clawed hand knocked me sprawling and it slowly stalked towards me. I crab-walked backwards and got to my feet. My axe had gone flying. I pulled a sword from my inventory and tried to get back into a fighting stance.
Backing away, it still managed to keep the pressure up on me.
Another genius idea occurred to me.
“Can’t catch me!” I yelled. I spun and ran.
The barrier and what lay beyond might not impact it. But what about the fallow? Every other living thing in the Game broke down in there.
Running as if your life depends on it is actually pretty easy when your life depends on it. I ran into the dead grey of the fallow. Hamartia followed me. Unlike the other creatures I had seen enter the fallow, he seemed immune.
At first I thought my idea hadn’t worked. He didn’t slow down and was steadily gaining on me when I risked a quick glance.
My breath huffed in my ears and I tried not to choke on the omnipresent dust. I was out of ideas, stupid or otherwise.
Then I saw parts of Hamartia’s scales start to peel off. The fallow was having an effect, just not enough of one or quickly enough.
Hamartia caught up with me. Its back legs bunched and it leapt on me, knocking me to the ground. Its breath reeked of every bodily fluid that had been rotting into a carpet of a dive bar for decades.
My fist punched Hamartia in the side of the head over and over. My punches had less impact than the magic missiles. His head didn’t even shift.
I struggled and heaved. My stats were way ahead of where they should be for my level. But even with my recently added Strength and Dexterity, I couldn’t hit the dragon thing to any effect or twist my way out from its grasp.
Hamartia’s mouth opened and it raked its teeth down my face. My scream was muffled when it licked its tongue over the wounds it had just caused. A sound that I realized was a chuckle was rumbling from its belly.
Pinning me with one massive claw, it closed its jaws onto one of my legs and proceeded to drag me back to the barrier. He hauled me back to my camp and the pool that had birthed him. It had solidified but still gave off a profound wrongness.
You wouldn’t think you would be aware of having your face dragged along a rocky desert floor if a dragon is using your leg like a chew toy. You’d be right. All I could think of was how much my leg hurt.
Aaaaaaaah. tHaTs bEttEr.
Hamartia seemed to enjoy being back near the barrier. He let the barrier wash over most of him and writhed in pleasure. The barrier pushed me into his teeth, which swept another wave of pain over me and ran my hp down by another seven points.
The pain made me want to die. Which actually seemed like a good idea at the moment. My respawn point was back inside The Mines of Madness! If I died and Hamartia tried to follow me, he’d have to pass through the fallow.
Why is it that killing myself is so often the best plan I can think of?
I threw myself into Hamartia’s fangs, but the son of a bitch loosened his jaw and kept me from taking any damage.
nO No miLEs. nAUghTy NaUGhty.
“Come on and fight me, you fucking worm!” I shouted.
It hissed laughter and kept me pinned.
nOT yET.
“Kill me already!”
sOon. BUt nOT in tHE gAme. AhahAHah. I WIsh yOu hAD jOIneD wITh mE. buT tHIs hAs itS pLEasUres tOo.
Not in the Game? If not in the Game then he must be talking about real life. What was going on back in the Pitts? Despite knowing it was impossible, I tried to log out but all I got was the message that I was currently in combat and couldn’t exit the game.
I think if my leg wasn’t maimed and I wasn’t convinced that I was about to be murdered, I might have found the situation as funny as Hamartia clearly did. I tried everything I could to force him to eat me. I repeatedly threw myself into his jaws or onto his talons, but I couldn’t make him do it.
sHE cOMmands. i cAN’t leT yoU lEAve yEt.
My brain went into overdrive trying to think of something I could do to win the fight or even lose the fight, but I was coming up with nothing. I’d writhe and he’d just shove me back down onto the stony ground.
Wait. There was one stone in particular that might somehow be useful. I hadn’t been able to do anything with it before, but my father had sent me a vision through it.
Hamartia had dragged me back to my camp. The stone was just above my head. Once again I made as if to throw myself into Hamartia’s jaws and as it opened its grip slightly to keep me from taking damage, I scrabbled back a foot. Hamartia laughed and pinned me once again. I pulled the same trick again and I got the last foot closer I needed to reach the stone.
Putting my hand on it, I tried to identify the stone. Instead of the ever-changing, indecipherable mess I had seen before, this time I got a readable prompt.
Baetylus
A stone of life. These stones have been found across all lands, peoples and times. The Omphalos in Delphi, the rock that Excalibur was thrust into, the Stone of Scone, Kaaba’s Black Stone. Civilization must center around something. These stones are centers of meaning and power.
Options for the stone:
Philosopher’s Stone: using this stone you can transfigure one substance into another. All crafting skills +3 Tiers. All healing potions +3 tiers.
Keystone: use this stone in any building and it will automatically upgrade into a Legendary Building.
Ritual Altar: sanctify this stone in unclaimed territory and you will claim the land.
Which option do you choose?
There was no way I was going to craft a potion or build anything with my leg in Hamartia’s mouth. I didn’t know how long I had until Lilith and Ruod came for me in real life.
There wasn’t a convenient dragon killing building around to upgrade. There wasn’t any building at all.
That left one option.
I didn’t know if it would do anything about Hamartia, but trying anything is better than doing nothing when a dragon is eating you, or at least playing with its food.
I chose Ritual Altar. I received an error message.
The land had to be unclaimed. This land was owned by Brady. But that was only the land on this side of the barrier. I waited till the barrier washed closer and managed to get one corner of the baetylus beyond. I chose again.
The stone shifted until it was upright. Hamartia looked at this new variable and snorted.
Anoint the stone.
Your choice of substance with which to anoint your altar will define many variables for your land. The oil you choose and the herbs that infuse it will have long-term effects on the options, resources and direction your settlement will develop.
Crap. Turns out I was fresh out of aromatic oils. I was out of oil period. There was only one liquid I had easy access to at the moment.
Hamartia wouldn’t give me very long to figure this thing out. I rubbed my hand across the wounds in my face, then smeared my blood-covered hand across the stone. Nothing happened. I did it twice more.
The world froze. Hamartia stopped moving. This would have been more useful if my leg wasn’t currently trapped in its
petrified fangs. Even the barrier stopped undulating.
The stone absorbed my blood and I smeared more as fast as I could. The stone turned translucent wherever my blood was smeared. Runes and symbols I couldn’t make out swirled inside the stone. The translucence spread until the entire stone was a portal into an inside that was bigger than its outside.
HUMAN BLOOD
Blood is the most primitive substance you can use to anoint something. Settlement development will reflect this primitive nature and develop at the slowest possible rate.
Effect: The Mark of Cain
Agriculture -1 Tiers
Research of Peaceful Tech -25%
Buildings with peaceful applications -50%
Barracks, Coliseum*, Slaughterhouse, War College +20%
Weapon Development +20%
Hunting +10%
*must allow gladiator death matches
