by G. Akella
It was time to press forward. Putting his pipe away, Max sprung to his feet. He needed to find some kind of shelter by nightfall.
The next two skeletons were found roughly thirty yards from the first. They belonged either to very large dogs or, going by the hoofed feet, to a kind of toothy horse. Well, no one said all of the Netherworld's denizens were humanoid, he thought to himself, assuming that these specimens hailed from the lower plane. The density of skeletal remains multiplied as he drew closer to the foot of the mountain, and so did their variety! Some had six or even eight arms, while others appeared to have employed tentacles for movement. Max tried to keep count of the bones at first, but quickly gave that up as hopeless. I'd love to bring a dozen of Earth's archaeologists here, Max mused as he studied a twelve-foot-tall skeletal frame of what looked to be a cyclops. They'd be squealing with glee. All signs pointed to this being the site of an epic battle that for one reason or another had never made it into the chronicles. Who were the warring armies? The first legion of the Elder Demon of Ruin against the elves? Or someone else entirely?
It took another five minutes to reach the mountain. Rounding a big boulder coated with brown moss, the warrior came upon a bindstone, just beyond which stretched a gap through the rock roughly fifty yards wide. A bluish screen extended from wall to wall, transparent yet obscuring what lay behind. A dungeon! Goddamn! The only way to check its level was by binding to that stone. Sure, no problem—Max had no intention of dying here, nor was he foolish enough to go inside by himself. However, information about this dungeon could prove priceless, especially since he was now capable of building a portal here... Walking up to the bindstone, Max touched its sun-warmed surface with his palm... and cussed in exasperation. First Legion's Last Stand was a level 280 raid dungeon designed for raid parties of 300+ players. One more time, all together now: goddamn!
Taking a seat on a crumbling granite statue, of which remained only the ten-foot-long legs wearing peculiar sandals, the warrior sipped on some water while reflecting on his discovery. He recalled Donut explaining that in a regular dungeon the bosses' levels were equal to the dungeon's while in a raid dungeon they could be up to twice higher. That meant that the final boss in this particular dungeon could be as high as 560! Max considered for a moment how much money the game's leading clans would readily pay for information about this gorge, then chased away the six-figure numbers flashing through his mind with a chuckle. He felt like a caveman who'd stumbled upon a deposit of plutonium. There wasn't a clan in the game capable of clearing this instance. If only it were at least a hundred levels lower... Max drew a heavy sigh, and took another swig from the flask. Oh well, there was no harm in knowing, was there? Maybe in five years' time he could come back here with a clan strong enough to give the dungeon an honest shot. He rose from the rocks and stretched, his head thrown up to the sky. Hmm, I wonder if you can see inside from up there? the thought flashed through his mind. Why not find out? He didn't have anything else to do, anyway.
No sooner said than done. Shifting into cat form, Max rounded the moss-covered boulder and started ascending the mountain. He was moving quickly, passing by non-aggressive ram-like mobs that paid him no mind. Were this happening in the real world, these rams would be fleeing in terror at the first sight of a lion. But Max didn't mind their non-reaction—at level 260, these very rams would pwn the lion as if he were a newborn cub if he tried anything. Upon reaching the top, Max looked down and noticed that the shape of the mountain was that of a deer hoof. The gorge of the instance down below was fairly wide and about a mile in length. Obscured by the same bluish screen, he couldn't make out anything from here either. Moreover, the high density of trees all around made it difficult to see anything, period. Max briefly considered and rejected the prospect of climbing one of these giants. Looking around, he moved unhurriedly to the southern tip where the slope was more gentle.
He glimpsed the five-foot-high outcropping of rock some three hundred yards later, mistaking it for an anthill initially. After drawing closer, he gasped with marvel, then swore yet again, this time with frustration. The irregularly shaped hunk of dark-violet rock jutting out of the ground stood in stark contrast with the surrounding landscape. Rich adamantine deposit. Shifting into elf form, Max struck at the rock with his pickaxe just in case, but it was useless. The system log told him to take a hike, metaphorically speaking, and not to come back before raising his Mining skill to level 270. What rotten luck! He approximated the deposit weighing more than two tons—even if the ratio of ore to rock was no higher than .02%, that would still amount to more than eight pounds of ore! And eight pounds would be enough to forge a pair of daggers or a one-handed sword of rare or even epic quality in the 200-300 level range! Could this day get any weirder?! For all the incredible discoveries Max had made today, he couldn't make use of any of them. So near and yet so far, he remembered the old adage ruefully.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that he could always come back here once his profession was high enough, and scour the surroundings to boot. Also, according to the Mining manual, adamantine wasn't as rare and precious as titanium. Lost in thought, Max leaped over a wide fissure in the rock, and nearly fell into the next one.
"What the hell!" he swore, glancing warily at the bluish film of the dungeon glimmering around ten yards off the surface.
The fissure was more than thirty feet in diameter, and expanded further to over one hundred fifty feet. And it had formed fairly recently if the fallen trees lining its edges were any indication. A thin sheet-like formation stretched out from the other side, covering nearly half of the rift. The distance was nothing at only about fifteen feet, but Max feared jumping on it for fear that it wouldn't hold. Why risk falling into whatever dangers awaited below? But he did note with interest that a section of the raid dungeon was located above ground. No information is superfluous, it's just a matter of finding a use for it, thought Max as he continued his journey.
Ten or so minutes later he caught sight of a girlish figure near a small bush. And suddenly everything became clear. The young woman was picking berries and depositing them into a small brown basket at her feet while singing a melodious tune in a tongue unknown to Max. Her green leather breeches were tucked into elegant half-boots, and her matching jacket was tied at the waist with a wide hunting belt, a pair of striking daggers hanging from it. A black fox's tail twitched to the rhythm of her song, like a conductor's baton.
"Fancy meeting you here, Lady Sata!" Max extended a greeting after shifting to elf form.
The girl spun around sharply, her face contorted with fear that quickly gave way to surprise. Also, the warrior realized at once that it wasn't Sata—the green bar above her head hadn't been visible against the green bushes, especially in cat form. The young woman was certainly beautiful, with a high forehead, green almond-shaped eyes and long black hair, but that was where the similarities with the prophet from Ellorian ended.
"What are you doing here?" she asked with surprise before finally processing the meaning of his greeting.
Then she burst out with a pleasant, melodious laughter.
"You mistook me for the Mistress, warrior. Alas, she isn't here. She only visits us once a year for the Bellathane Spring Festival," the fox flicked her hair back with a graceful gesture, then gave a lovely smile. "My name is Chani."
"Pleasure to meet you," he nodded. "And I'm Max."
So the monster spawned by the dark god hadn't destroyed the entire fox species, he thought to himself. But that still doesn't explain what I'm doing here? Max no longer doubted that a certain goddess favoring the likeness of a wily fox was behind redirecting his portal, but to what purpose? To saddle him with another epic quest, ostensibly, but then where was she?
"What were you doing on top of the Wicked Mountain, warrior? We try to steer clear of it whenever possible."
"I don't know how I got here, actually," Max shrugged. "And I know nothing about this area. Why is the mountain called wicked, anyway?"
"Long ago, before even our arrival here, the gods confined to it a demon army that had escaped the Netherworld. A terrible battle took place here that claimed many lives. The bones of the fallen still line the entrance to the gorge," she turned and waved northward.
"You don't seem to be especially scared of it."
"Rose hip only grows on its slopes," Chani said. "And it's an essential ingredient in many useful potions. I'm not scared anymore, but several months ago when there was a great storm, with the earth shaking and lightning striking at the Wicked Mountain, we thought for sure the fiends were going to escape. Uncle Ulmao even ordered us to pack our things and be ready to flee. We're not a warlike people, and we wouldn't be much opposition if those demons escaped from the mountain's bowels."
"Well, if it didn't happen then, I suppose there's nothing to be scared of," Max turned and gazed in that direction.
So that's where that fissure came from, he thought with a frown. Nature must have celebrated patch seventeen in its own way.
"Say, could you shift into your true form?" Chani asked. "I've never seen your kind before."
The appeal on her face was so sincere and adorable that no man would stand a chance against it. Feigning a grimace for show, Max shifted into a cat.
The werefox, whose chest was now precisely at Max's eye level, walked up to him and held out her hand hesitantly. She flinched and pulled it right back, then got a hold of herself and petted the lion on the head.
"You're so big and handsome!" she exhaled her awe, scratching him behind the ear.
Max felt pleased and awkward at the same time. Watch, she'll break out a laser pointer and... He chuckled to himself at the comical thought and shifted back into an elf. But Chani didn't pull back. Instead, she raised her eyes at him, now glowing with impish sparks...
"Thank you, Max," standing up on her tiptoes, she pecked the warrior on the cheek, and walked back toward her basket.
Oh, these children of the forest... Max grunted, trying to bring order back to his thoughts, which were presently swirling around the idea of what kind of offspring might be born to a union between a lion and a fox.
"Come, warrior," Chani smiled and gave an inviting gesture. "Our village isn't far from here. And we're very hospitable to those whom the Mistress favors."
The wide, footworn path they turned on five minutes later was leading southeast. Chani was walking just slightly ahead—and with the clear purpose of giving Max a good view. The gentle swaying of those hips, the playful glances she would shoot back at him... Men of smarts and experience know those tricks well, but that knowledge is useless when it comes to resisting them. Max didn't fear coming to harm at Chani's village, but as for the rest... It wasn't that he was some kind of a prude—simply, he didn't want anyone but Alyona. Why bother with these side adventures when he already had a woman that truly made him happy? How do you even do it if your partner has a tail? Might be fun to find out... The treacherous thought gave him a start, and he forced himself to look away from the peach-shaped tush in front of him. How the hell do I get out of this? He thought with a tinge of panic. He didn't want to offend his new acquaintance, but he also wasn't going to jump on the very first female he came across like some sex-starved fiend on his first business trip away from home. What did he know about foxes? In Chinese and Japanese mythology, they were called Huli jing, literally "fox spirit," and were something along the lines of succubi and incubi from European legends. That is, they were masters of seduction. The devs must have drawn inspiration from Asian folklore when designing these werefoxes. Prepare to be disappointed, sweet cheeks—this middle-aged white guy is no sex tourist! Max chuckled to himself, then winked to Chani just as she turned around. The young woman arched her brow but didn't say a word, simply giving him a coy smile that made it clear to Max that he was in for a fun night.
"Are you hungry?" Chani asked as they rounded a bend and the palisade surrounding the village came into view. "My mom is roasting a forest hen as we speak—it's her signature dish. We'd love to have you over!"
"Thank you," Max smiled, surveying the village they were coming up on.
The fox village was called Virassa. Sitting on an expansive forest meadow, it was surrounded by a deciduous wood to the north, a fir grove to the west, and clusters of alders and miscellaneous shrubbery to the south. The settlement was enclosed by a rectangular palisade with each side roughly three hundred yards long. Looks more like a town than a village, the warrior thought. As far as he could see from here, the interior was very similar to that of a standard elven settlement, populated by Marlorien and cultivated structures in the same radial arrangement. The village was lush with greenery, with each front yard blooming with flower and vegetable gardens of every variety. It made for a serene, enchanting sight.
Chani had been spot on with her assessment that her kind were not a warlike people. Even the smallest, most backward elven village was outfitted with at least two watch towers, and that was considering its location on sovereign land. This village, however, hadn't even that much. The sole sentry lounged, leaning lazily against a gatepost while watching a bunch of little foxes playing in the square just inside the gate. He wore light leather armor favored by rogues, his pike resting against the palisade. My drill sergeant would have their asses, he thought, recalling his old army days. Despite all the resident foxes being over level 200, with Chani herself sporting a hearty level 270, it didn't change the fact that the lacking defenses left the village extremely vulnerable to attack.
"Hey, Lim," the young woman said as they drew near the village gate. "Look alive, we've got guests."
Turning his head toward them slowly, the sentry gave a skeptical grunt.
"I would have preferred a couple of kittens."
"Don't give me that!" Chani seemed indignant. "You've got Faita, don't you?"
"And you've got Kalarik," the male fox sniffed. "That doesn't seem to stop you."
"I owe nothing to Kalarik, we're not even engaged," the young woman frowned.
"You tell him that," the sentry parried lazily, examining the fingernails on his right hand.
He hadn't even bothered standing up, as if visiting Nightcrawlers were a perfectly commonplace occurrence in this backwater village. So much so that he'd actually grown weary of them.
The children at the gate, however, had stopped playing and were now bunched up, inspecting the guest with considerable interest. Nearly all were varying shades of red, with only a pair of dark coats standing out.
"If you want a warm welcome, pal, bring some women with you next time," Lim addressed the warrior. "We're always happy to see women."
Do these guys never get any tail? Max smirked in appreciation of his own witticism.
"Go on in," the sentry waved them through, seemingly losing interest altogether.
Just then there came a crashing sound coming from the forest, and a loud plangent howling that gave Max a start.
"What was that?" he shot a quizzical look at Chani.
Gazing blankly in the direction of the sound, the werefox was slowly getting down on the ground, as if in a trance. Standing perfectly still by the gatepost was Lim, wearing the same enthralled expression. Likewise still were the little foxes, as if frozen in place by the sound.
"What the hell..." Max looked toward the disturbance, rattled way past his comfort level.
The unending howling hadn't affected him in any way, but all the foxes had been hit with an unknown debuff called Hallot's Revenge. Not being grouped with any of them, Max couldn't see the details of the debuff.
The sound kept drawing closer until eventually a ghastly monster crashed through the bushes about a hundred yards away. Looking like an anglerfish, the beast boasted level 450 and one and a half million HP. Its bluish skin was covered with warts and cracks that oozed a brown viscous liquid that was apparently smoking. Max read the legend hovering above the boss' head: Python. Size-wise the beast rivaled Cenatodone, with four colossal tentacles that propelled th
e enormous torso forward, and four more winding and twisting to his sides like Medusa's hair. All four of the monster's blood-red eyes, set symmetrically over a massive maw, expressed nothing but listlessness and an unquenchable hunger. It must have been the way a serpent looked at its prey before devouring it.
That's why there were no survivors from that village, Max recalled Phylatrim's story. This bastard enthralls the foxes with his howling, then gobbles them up. But what does any of it have to do with me?!
And then, as if in response to his question, the system log exploded with text.
You've accessed the quest: Saving Virassa.
Quest type: unique, epic.
Dispel the deadly hex of Hallot's Revenge from the villagers, and use any means necessary to kill Python, the messenger of Hallot the dead god, before he destroys Virassa.
Python must be slain within the next two hours.
Reward: experience, unknown, increased reputation with the Tylwyth Teg, increased reputation with Sata, the Goddess of Luck.
119:59… 119:58… 119:57…
If all the Tylwyth Teg residing in the village survive, the reward will be significantly greater.
"But... how? How can I possibly..." Max muttered as he read the description of the quest, transfixed with shock. "It would take me a day and a night to make a dent in him, and that's if he just stands there like a dummy without retaliating..."
