Varnoth- the Black Blade 2

by Lavelle Jackson

  You have completed quest!

  You have learned a pathway to acquire a Dark Eagle from the clerk at the Finnmork Post!

  You have received 500 experience points!

  The immediate notification startled Varnoth as he tried to process the clerk’s request.

  After a couple of blinks, Varnoth said, “Where would I find a Dark Eagle egg?”

  The clerk covered his face and sighed.

  “If I knew, don’t you think I would have gotten one already?”

  You have been given a new quest!

  Paul, The Finnmork Post clerk, has offered you a fully trained and enchanted Wally, the Dark Eagle in exchange for a Dark Eagle egg!

  Rewards:

  700 Experience Points

  Wally the Dark Eagle

  Do you accept this quest?

  Yes or No?

  “Alright, smart ass, I will go find you a Dark Eagle egg. You just better keep up your end of the deal,” replied Varnoth.

  “Of course, my furry friend.”

  Before Varnoth left the building, he paid one gold to send William a message that he had arrived safely. Varnoth was surprised that it cost so much less than before in Drangar. Then he saw Paul attach the letter to Wally.

  The poor little guy doesn’t get any respect.

  CHAPTER 23

  Slorm was a goblin town northwest of the gnome village of Colkirk. The war chief of Slorm was the tyrant, Wrimrung. He believed that he was commanded by the gods to expand the goblin empire across Albattara. The war chief began the process of establishing small outposts upon receiving this divine revelation. Each outpost was five miles from Slorm. They formed a square perimeter around town. There was one outpost located at the four corners of the perimeter. Three of the four outposts had been checking in as Wrimrung commanded them. However, the southeastern outpost had been silent.

  Wrimrung, stood six feet five inches tall, which is enormous for a goblin. However, he was not just a goblin. He was a hobgoblin. The war chief had arms the size of large tree branches. Large pulsating veins traveled up and down his arms. He had hands the size of a timber bear’s paw with thick, sharp nails that extended two inches past the tip of his fingers. Wrimrung’s legs were even more impressive than his arms. They looked like two tree trunks impaling his torso. The hobgoblin wore fine leather armor with skulls etched across his chest. He wore a bloodstained bone necklace passed down to war chiefs over generations. He had razor-sharp teeth with a tongue that would extend almost to his neck. His nose was large and pointy. His nostrils flared as he breathed. The hobgoblin had large, black eyes that cut like a knife into whoever he gazed upon. His ears were large, and skull earrings dangled from each. His jet black hair hung down his back to his waist in a ponytail. His weapon of choice was an iron sword with a bone hilt. One side of the blade was razor-sharp, and the other side was serrated. The sword had an enchantment that invoked heavy bleed on his opponents. He also carried a steel buckler shield on his back. Wrimrung was a terrifying creature to behold.

  He drank the blood of a goblin who had deserted his post in the north. The goblet was made from the skull of a human, and the blood ran down the sides of his mouth when he took his large first gulp. Drinking the blood of another creature exhilarated him. He preferred blood over any other drink. He was not a vampire. So he didn’t require it to survive. He just loved the taste of liquid that flowed through another’s heart. He felt that he absorbed the souls of whoever he drank. He enjoyed blood the most when it was warm and fresh. He kept prisoners to drink from daily. His witchdoctor, Toggus, was very good at knowing where to make the proper cuts. He needed these prisoners to last as long as possible. After one of these prisoners inevitably died, Wrimrung would remove their hearts and eat them. Fresh hearts were absolutely delicious to devour. Afterward, the bodies were given to his dire hounds. Wrimrung would use some of the bones leftover to construct weapons, jewelry, or furniture.

  As powerful as he was, he could not say the same of most of his goblin horde. Most were small, chubby, and clumsy. They served as fodder for the most part. Wrimrung did what he could to get the most out of his horde. When the shit hit the fan, the war chief would have to rely on the hobgoblin population in Slorm, which was a small percentage. However, they were the muscle when fighting was required.

  When Wrimrung grew frustrated with the lack of communication from the southeastern outpost, he sent one of his strongest hobgoblin warriors, Klotts. He carried five other goblins along with him. The chieftain of that outpost, Morf, would pay dearly for his unwillingness to follow orders of the great Wrimrung. It was unlike Morf to be disobedient. Morf would have never attained the outpost chieftain rank if he had not been trustworthy. He was anxious to learn the reason behind his silence.

  Baldrik quickly entered the war chief’s hut. She was a trusted female hobgoblin that served as Wrimrung’s mate and a ranger. She stood 6 feet tall and was very lean and muscular. She wore a burgundy tunic and had white hair down to her shoulders. Her weapon of choice was a redwood bow with a high accuracy enchantment. She was the best in all of Slorm at ranged combat.

  “My lord, Klotts, has returned with his party from the south. He does not appear to be happy,” said Baldrik with her back straight and chest out.

  Wrimrung nodded and sat on his bone throne in anticipation of Klotts arrival. Heavy footsteps and steel rattling approached the hut. Klotts, the hobgoblin warrior, ducked as he walked into the chambers of the war chief. He walked in front of Wrimrung and bowed.

  “My lord, I bring disconcerting news from Morf’s outpost,” said Klotts.

  “Go on,” replied the war chief with a scowl on his face.

  “We arrived to an empty camp. The huts had been burned, yet there were no corpses anywhere. Nothing of value appeared to be stolen, which I found very odd. After looking around a bit more, we found tracks headed east. We followed the tracks and reached the gnome village of Colkirk. It was also abandoned. However, we located the burned remains of countless goblins. We saw one corpse that may have been Morf. His chieftain necklace had been left behind in the pile of bones. As best I could tell, all of the goblin soldiers assigned to the outpost were killed. We found a handful of fresh graves where I assume gnome corpses were buried.”

  “You mean to tell me, a village of gnomes killed all of the outpost's soldiers? The gnomes are farmers and brewers. How the hell did they do this?” asked Wrimrung.

  Klotts gave a quick shrug and shook his head.

  “You need to give me a little more than that, Klotts! Do you realize the dishonor that has fallen on me because my goblin outpost fell to a bunch of little rats?”

  “I am sorry, my lord, we were able to see wagon tracks that headed out of town into the Mead Valley,” replied Klotts as he trembled in fear.

  “And? Go on.”

  “Nothing, sire, we turned and came back to give you the update on what we found. We wanted to wait for your command. Honestly, I wanted to bring better warriors. I was not confident that my party would be effective,” said Klotts.

  “Ok, so you are a damned coward, who was scared of a bunch of damn gnomes!” Wrimrung exclaimed as he stood to his feet.

  “No, sire, no, I thought you would want to know first. I swear it. I am no coward!” Klotts cried on his knees.

  “Well, you were dead wrong. You shouldn’t have come back until you had some damned answers. I am disappointed in you Klotts,” Wrimgrung said as he kicked Klotts in the head with his giant foot.

  Blood and teeth flew toward the back of the hut as Klotts fell on his back. Baldrik had to block one tooth with her hand before it hit her face. Wrimrung unsheathed his sword and placed the point on Klotts’ neck. The fallen hobgoblin breathed heavily as blood poured from his mouth and nose. He didn’t know whether he should speak or stay silent.

  “I will give you one more chance, you slimy coward. Get your ass up and get a group together and investigate this bullshit. If you return to me with no answers, I will cut you
r heart out of your chest and eat it while it still beats in front of your cowardly face!”

  “Yes, sire, I will not fail you again!”

  Wrimrung did a quick swipe and sliced open Klott’s cheek. He then lifted the sword blade and licked the blood from the tip. Klotts grabbed his cheek and jumped to his feet and left the hut in a hurry.

  “A little tough on Klotts, don’t you think?” asked Baldrik with a judgement laced stare.

  “Absolutely not, woman. Mind your tongue!” Wrimrung said with a deathly tone.

  Baldrik got the idea that she should leave her war chief and lover alone to fume over the day's events. She walked out of the hut before she could get herself into more trouble.

  CHAPTER 24

  Varnoth headed toward the bank that had been marked on his map. The building was white and made of marble — six giant pillars stood tall at the top of a massive flight of stairs. Bank of Albattara was written in large letters on the roof. There was no doubt this was the right place. Varnoth walked up the multitude of stairs which took him to a large, glass door. He entered slowly. The lobby of the bank was huge. Employees walked all over performing their job duties. A few turned and gave him a quick smile, but the majority were focused on whatever task they were trying to accomplish. It was a very diverse mix of employees. He saw dwarves, gnomes, humans, and a reptilian race that he was approaching. It appeared to be female, and she stood behind a large rustic desk. She stood almost six feet tall. She was very lean with dark green scales. Her eyes were large and yellow with a thin, black pupil in the dead center. Her tongue would extend from her mouth every few seconds. It appeared to be a body function like blinking. You must do it every few seconds, but you don’t realize you are doing it.

  She smiled with razor teeth and spoke first.

  “Hello, sir. How may I help you on this fine day?” Her voice had a hissing sound that he had never heard before.

  Varnoth realized he was staring in astonishment at the woman, and he became embarrassed.

  “Yes, sorry. I am here to start an account and retrieve an enchanted coin vessel for my castle.”

  “Of course, I can certainly help you with that. My name is Reeka, and I am a Reptaralan. I could tell you were interested. I get those looks a lot.”

  “I am sorry. Please forgive my rudeness. I have never had the pleasure of meeting a Reptaralan,” replied Varnoth, who blushed under his pitch-black fur.

  “Likewise, I have never seen anyone like you either.”

  “My name is Varnoth, and I am a shadow panther. Unfortunately, I have never met my kind either.”

  Reeka giggled and said, “It is nice to meet you Varnoth. The minimum deposit required to open an account is 500 gold. The coin vessel you require will cost you 300 gold, and there is a monthly deduction of fifty gold to use it. May I also suggest a personal coin vessel to carry with you. Any money you place in it will automatically be deposited into your account. This is extremely convenient, and it prevents you from the worry of being robbed of your gold. The personal vessel is soul bound with ancient magic that cannot be broken by anyone other than our enchanters. This type of vessel will cost you 750 gold and 50 gold per month will be deducted from your account. What may we provide you, sir?”

  Varnoth felt that all she offered was vital. So he agreed to all of the options.

  “Fantastic sir, how much coin do you wish to deposit with us today?”

  Varnoth had the minimum amount needed for everything, and he had a great deal of gold that he had earned on his travels. He took out the 1,550 gold needed to start the account and purchase the two vessels. He retrieved an additional 10,000 gold that had been accumulated from quests, kills, and trades. This would put 10,500 gold into the account. Whatever gold he received in the future would instantly be deposited through his personal vessel.

  “Sir, thank the gods you weren’t robbed. There are a lot of dishonorable Albattarans out there!” Reeka said with wide eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am, I have met a few. I thank the gods as well,” Varnoth said with a small grin.

  Varnoth filled out all of the required paperwork and instructed Reeka to provide access to the castle vessel to his council. Reeka asked him to have a seat, and she went to receive the coin vessels. After a few minutes, she returned with a small sparkling box in one hand and a much larger one in the other. She placed them on the desk in front of the shadow panther and smiled.

  “Here, you are, sir. They are quite simple to use. You simply open them and put the gold in, and they go into your account here. When you wish to retrieve the gold, you open them and think of the amount you need, and it will appear. That is, of course, dependent on if you have the funds available in your account. If your vessels are stolen, let us know at once, and we will provide you with another. You will also have access to your account at any bank branch across Albattara. May I help you with anything else?”

  Varnoth placed the vessels into his pouch and thanked the Reptaralan and walked out of the bank. The wind blowing off the Bellvue refreshed him, and he paused a moment to enjoy the sensation. Varnoth continued toward the district of Finnmork that sat on the river. He wanted to get his first close look at the river that flowed past his estate at Darthill. A store to his right grabbed his attention. The sign above the decorative wooden door said “Owyn’s Alchemy and Other Fine Things.” A smile burst onto Varnoth’s face as he realized he was looking at the shop of his rescuer. If Owyn had not come by way of the Regal Road weeks ago, the shadow panther would have been a decomposing corpse hanging on a wooden cross.

  As he entered the shop, he was welcomed by a bell ringing on the door. There was a rather peculiar combination of smells that filled his nostrils from the goods in stock. A familiar older man walked through a curtain at the back of the shop.

  “Can I hel...my gods, I remember you! Your name has slipped my feeble brain, but I remember helping you get off that wretched cross. Terrible way to die, I tell you,” said Owyn.

  “It is good to see you, my friend. My name is Varnoth."

  “Of course, of course, I knew that!” replied Owyn shaking his head, “You look very well. You have been working very hard, leveling yourself.”

  "Yes sir, I have been on many travels since we met and fought a lot of scum."

  Varnoth could sense that Owyn’s mind was elsewhere, and he was under a great deal of stress.

  “Is everything ok? You seem overly anxious about something?” asked Varnoth.

  “I’m am afraid so, my friend. It’s my granddaughter.”

  “I’m listening,” replied Varnoth.

  “Celeste graduated recently from the mage academy here in Finnmork. She decided to follow in my footsteps as a pyromancer. She was at the top of her class, and I am very proud of that. However, all her successes at school have made her overconfident in her skills. The use of magic at the academy is much different than using magic in the real world. This overconfidence has resulted in her acceptance of a perilous quest she isn’t prepared to tackle solo. She went to the town quest board and took a quest from the Church of the Infinite Star to kill a necromancer who has taken hold of the catacombs in Mount Garmark. I am sure you can see the danger of a necromancer inside of a crypt full of the dead. I don’t know what she was thinking. Foolishness!” Owyn shouted as he slammed his fist on the counter.

  Several of the items for sale on the counter shook or turned over altogether.

  “Forgive me, Varnoth,” Owyn said as he put the strewn items back in order.

  “I will go check on your granddaughter. Mark on my map the location, and I will travel there at once,” replied Varnoth.

  “Thank the gods for you, my friend. She is a very strong pyromancer, but I fear she has bitten off more than she can chew. She left this morning after she accepted the quest. I only heard because a friend of mine was at the quest board, and he came by to tell me. I didn’t get a chance to talk her out of it. I will go with you. However, I am an old man, so I fear I will slow you down a
bit. On the other side of the equation, I still pack a punch with my staff. I want to leave now if possible.”

  Of course, let’s go get your granddaughter,” Varnoth replied.

  You have accepted a new quest!

  Celeste, the granddaughter of your friend, Owyn, has accepted a difficult quest to rid the catacombs of Mt. Garmark of a necromancer! Owyn feels that she is not equipped to handle this mission and come out alive! You will travel with Owyn to Mount Garmark as quickly as you can to save Celeste!

  Reward: Unknown

  “Just a moment, let me grab some items and lock the shop up.”

  Owyn opened a cabinet and retrieved some vials of different colored liquids and placed them in a pouch. He then took a black staff that hung on the wall. When he grabbed the staff, the end of it glowed bright orange for a split second. It made a rather unusual humming noise for that same length of time. It was as if Owyn awoke the staff from a deep slumber.

  “Let’s go, my friend. Mount Garmark is not far west of Finnmork. I pray to the gods that we make it in time!”

  Varnoth

  Level 17

  Shadow Panther

  Black Blade Legendary Class

  Attributes:

  Strength – 95

  Dexterity – 103

  Intelligence – 59

  Vitality – 110

  CHAPTER 25

  Varnoth traveled for two hours on their trek west from Finnmork. Very little was said between the two adventurers. Owyn was afraid that they would be too late, and he would lose his granddaughter to the evil that resided within the catacombs. As the duo approached their destination, Mount Garmark, a feeling of dread fell upon them. The mountain was tall, jagged, and desolate. It looked like the gods had cursed this mountain, and it was dead and rotting. The smell of death and putrefaction filled their nostrils as they came closer. Varnoth hoped for the best, but his expectation that they would find Celeste alive was dwindling with each step they took. Owyn used his staff as a tool to help his old, feeble body climb the rocky incline to the entrance. Varnoth attempted to help his friend, but Owyn was a proud man and wouldn’t accept his assistance. He was determined to reach the door under his own power. The entrance to the catacombs was a horrible sight to behold. Skulls lined the opening from top to bottom. They looked as if they wanted to tell the adventurers to turn and run.