Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

  He chuckled to himself as he imagined what Lex would have said to that plan and found that he missed his NPC’s sarcasm. He hoped the short hairy bastard was alive and well. He was likely sipping grog, eating mutton and flirting with barmaids while Gryph rotted in this dungeon.

  He returned his focus to the task at hand and opened the Air Magic perk tree.

  Gryph had selected the Base Tier Mana perk after his battle with the baalgrath and knew that choice had saved his life several times. Unfortunately, he had to more than double his current level before he could unlock the apprentice tier perks.

  The Effectiveness boost held some appeal, but he didn't jump the gun. Resistance wasn’t too appealing since he had not yet faced another air mage. However down the road such a perk could be invaluable, especially at higher levels.

  His eyes went to the Item Power perk. Most of his current magic items relied on Air Magic so that perk would make all of them 25% more powerful, including his Ring of Minor Air Shield. A plan formed in Gryph’s mind. He dumped one point into Item Power. The other two points he held in reserve.

  Air Magic Perk Tree

  Tier

  Mana

  Effective

  Resist

  Item Power

  B

  80%

  +25%

  20%

  +25%

  A

  70%

  +50%

  30%

  +50%

  JM

  60%

  +75%

  40%

  +75%

  M

  50%

  +100%

  50%

  +100%

  GM

  30%

  2X

  60%

  2X

  D

  20%

  3X

  80%

  3X

  Gryph cast Halo of Air again and then set to work. He did some quick math in his head and smiled. In theory, his plan was solid. He inhaled and held his right hand out. He pumped a full 20% of his mana into the Ring of Minor Air Shield. Normally, he would just let the ring create the protective bubble of air around his own body, but this time he had a different plan.

  He focused on the pocket where the arboleth's body met the smaller tentacles. It looked like an obese armpit and should, if Gryph’s guess was right, be perfect for what he had planned. With a deep breath, Gryph unleashed the power of the ring.

  A beam of solid air shot from the ring to his point of focus and built up power. The blue white vortex of air expanded, and the resultant explosion of water buffeted Gryph back several paces, spinning him head over heels. A moment later, he regained his balance to see that his plan had succeeded.

  The arboleth's body had pushed upwards as if resting on an invisible globe, and Gryph could see the blue glow much clearer. It was time to test his second assumption. Gryph swam up to the barrier of air and paused. The blue glow of his prize was throbbing now, and better still he could see another, brighter blue glow further down the beast’s abdomen.

  The eggs, Gryph thought. A grin crossed his face as he stepped forward. If this didn't work, then he would fail this quest and maybe end up with a busted nose. His foot passed through the field of air with only the slightest of resistance. The rest of his body followed. He now stood in an invisible sphere under twenty tons of fish flab. It was time to get cutting.

  28

  He’d been sawing into the arboleth's corpse for nearly four minutes when the cooldown on his ring ended. He paused and formed another bubble, this one closer to the other blue glow Gryph hoped were the eggs. The current bubble had about a minute left before it would collapse, sending thousands of pounds of arboleth corpse thundering to the lakebed with him underneath.

  One last rip and tear and he had the creature’s toxin gland. He’d been incredibly careful not to cut into it. He had no idea if the toxin needed to be injected to be effective, but he was sure not planning to find out. The thing was size of a large watermelon. Gryph wondered just how much poison he’d be able to extract from this treasure and just what he’d be able to do with it.

  He cut away at the strands of flesh holding the sack in place, careful to tie off one that looked to be the poison delivery tube. With a rubbery snap that reminded Gryph of calamari, the sack came free. He looked up to see the air shield was now flickering at an alarming rate, and Gryph swam to the right into the second air shield and a few seconds later the first one blinked out. The blubbery flesh of the arboleth sagged down once again, flopping onto the spot he had just been standing. He checked the time and his current mana levels. So far so good.

  You have found an Arboleth Toxin Gland.

  This incredibly rare item can create a poison that could make enemies susceptible to thought magic and other unidentified effects. You also get the sense it could craft an item that could grant immunity to poisons and other unidentified effects.

  He stashed the gland in his inventory, thankful not just for the satchel’s auto organize feature, but also for its preservation feature. The last thing he wanted was a bagful of rotten toxic flesh getting all over all his stuff.

  Gryph swam down towards the glow of the eggs and cast Halo of Air again. A moment later, the cooldown on the ring ended, and he created another air shield bubble. This one was further down and under the beast’s body. By his count he had less than three minutes before the second bubble timed out and collapsed. If he wasn’t finished by then, he’d be trapped and spend the last few moments of his life waiting to die by blubber smothering.

  He hacked into the abomination’s flesh once more and the dagger cut through a membrane with a snap. Inside he found three leathery sacks that resembled deflated footballs for giants. Umbilicals led up to the arboleth's body. As he moved to cut the closest umbilical, something inside the leathery sack moved.

  Gryph jumped back in shock, his heart pounding madly. Maybe this isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. He watched for a tense few seconds as the thing inside the egg stopped moving. Then with a deep breath he cut the umbilical.

  He grabbed the egg and shoved it into his satchel, hoping that the stasis effects of the intra-dimensional folds would prevent the egg from doing something horrible, like hatching.

  Congratulations. You have completed the Quest Harvest the Arboleth.

  You have Harvested items from the arboleth corpse.

  Reward: Extremely rare Crafting and Alchemy ingredients.

  XP: 5,000

  Gryph took a deep calming breath and smiled. Mission accomplished. A quick glance told him he had another minute and a half before the second bubble collapsed. He had the time and got to work on the second egg. As he sawed through the umbilical his mind wondered what good would come of harvesting these eggs? He sure as hell would not raise pet arboleth. The one had been enough of an abomination. Two could bring apocalypse.

  The second egg came free, and as he tucked it in the satchel, he examined it with Harvest.

  You have found an Arboleth Egg.

  This insanely rare item is of both incalculable worth and incalculable danger. You feel as if it could create a potion that will give a permanent resistance increase to thought and aetherial magics and other unidentified effects. You also get the sense it could craft an item that will protect a large area from thought and aetherial magics and other unidentified effects. It can also give birth to an arboleth, a species that has long been a scourge on the Realms. Use wisely.

  “My word,” Gryph muttered in shock. This thing was amazing and insanely dangerous. He placed the second egg into his satchel, sending a silent prayer that the stasis effect contained these seeds of destruction.

  The second air shield blinked, a sure sign that time was up. Gryph knew he'd have to leave the third behind, but there was no way in the nine hells he would leave it alive.

  He flexed his hand on the Ice Dagger and pumped a full charge into it. With a powerful thrust, Gryph plunged the blade into the egg sack. The thing inside th
e egg screamed in his mind, and he winced in pain. He thrust again, and the noise stopped.

  The blinking of the air shield had grown critical, and Gryph kicked off from the inside of the wall of solid air and emerged from under the massive body. A moment later, the second shield failed and the bulbous corpse collapsed. Gryph smiled to himself, cast Halo of Air again and began a slow, steady swim upwards.

  He was halfway to the surface when the fleshy body of the arboleth shook and rumbled. A second later, something lithe and fast shot out from an orifice near the arboleth's rear fin. It turned and darted towards Gryph.

  29

  Ovrym sat in meditation, his mind attempting to find ease. It was too late to help the man. All he could do was focus his own mind. The rock of the high shelf dug into him, but he did not feel it. He let his guilt and his fear and his weakness flow over him like the waves of a storm. Each breath brought relief. Each wave grew less toxic.

  Eventually he found peace again. His ancient demons chased back into the dark depths of his soul, for now. He reached out for the aether and spread his thoughts through it.

  Then he felt the elf. Somehow the man was still alive. A shudder of shock and hope flowed through his body. Ovyrm forced himself to focus. Maybe I can still help, he thought. He could feel the arboleth's stained and rancid thoughts, focused into a pinprick weapon.

  Ovrym molded his thoughts into a field or warmth and life and hope and settled it down on the drowning man. It wasn’t much, but perhaps it would be enough. Time lost temporary meaning as he became comfort and ease. He pulled his attention away from the battle. He was of no use if he could not remain calm.

  The xydai became warmth and hope and strength flowing into the man. He was only a sprinkle of rain against a raging wildfire, but he was something. Ovrym let himself become one with the aether. He was no longer singular. He was part of the All. Heartbeats passed like centuries, breaths like ages. He was both always and never and still he held to his task.

  Then a pulse of shock and anguish flashed outward, a nova of rage that exploded before collapsing unto itself and disappearing. The arboleth was dead. Ovyrm’s eyes opened in shock.

  He stood and stared down at the water as the last ripples of battle settled to calm. Where was the man? Had he succumbed? Ovrym reached through the water and found the barest pinprick of life distorting the calm of the aether. The man was alive but drowning. Ovyrm shared his strength, hoping it was enough.

  For a moment, Ovrym feared it was not enough. Then thoughts returned, and the spark became a fire. He stood, waiting to see the man emerge from the depths. Long minutes passed, and he did not surface. What was he doing?

  Ovrym sat again and waited. Whoever this man was he was of an odd character. Was he friend or foe? The shock of the arboleth's presence had so overwhelmed Ovyrm that he had not considered the man's nature. Was he a source of evil or a force for good? He possessed a Godhead. How was that even possible?

  Was he wrong in aiding this latent god? Had his mind been so warped by his hatred and fear of the aetherial abomination that he had overlooked a greater threat? These were the thoughts that raged in Ovrym’s mind as the man finally emerged from the depths.

  He did not look like much, near drowned and so exhausted that he collapsed to his knees the moment he climbed onto the island. He swayed back and forth as he inhaled a lungful of air. He was shaking. Fear? Adrenaline? Cold? He seemed confused, disoriented.

  Finally, he seemed to gain control over himself as a look of peace came over him. Then he screamed a scream few had ever heard. Ovyrm knew that scream and fear stabbed at his soul. The man gasped and then fell forward onto his face. Ovyrm saw the pulsating slug like creature as it sank spiny tendrils into the back of the man’s head.

  “Illurryth,” Ovrym said in anguish.

  The arboleth larva had infected the elf's brain. Soon it would feed upon it and replace his mind with an aetherial abomination, a sorcerer in service of the arboleth. The man was dead. Nothing could stop the metamorphosis, the process of consumption that resulted in a sentient being becoming the pure evil of the illurryth. He would be reborn as something else, a malevolence unlike any the Realms had ever seen, an illurryth in possession of a Godhead.

  Before rational thought could stop him, Ovyrm pulled his bow from his shoulder. He knocked an arrow and drew back, focusing both mana and stamina into his shot. The arrow burned with the blue aura of thought magic. He closed one eye, and the stamina flowed into Viper Sting, an Archery perk that increased both damage and the chance to hit.

  "Shall you be reborn at peace," Ovyrm said, putting his heart into the traditional prayer for the soul of the dead. He let fly and his aim was true. The arrow pierced both larva and man at the base of the neck, instantly slaying two minds.

  30

  Gryph swam as his body and mind relaxed. He had survived. He had won. Above him he could see the dim light of the surface. He kicked his legs harder, relishing the thought of feeling fresh air on his face again. Even if fresh was a matter of degree.

  He laughed aloud as his exhalations pushed through the halo to become bubbles of air. He imagined that when they broke the surface, the sound of his laughter would echo around the chamber like they did in the cartoons he watched as a kid.

  The surface was close now, and Gryph kicked harder. He was exhausted and wanted to be free of this watery prison. He pumped his arms and legs again as ease flowing into his mind. Then something punched into the back of his head with a wet thud.

  Waves of pain erupted in his mind, and he lost control of his body. Psychic threads of hate, anger and hunger delved into his mind. Part of him was aware of a debuff, but it felt as if it belonged to someone else.

  Debuff: You have been poisoned with Arboleth Larval Toxin.

  Thought resistance reduced by 80%.

  Possession: Your body is no longer your own. You are now controlled by an outside influence.

  Five-minute cool down.

  Gryph filled with terror, but his mind could find no focus. He was an observer. He felt drunk, ecstatic, without a care in the world. As he breached the surface of the water an oily stain of incomprehensible thoughts flowed over him. He tried to focus on them, but they tasted of acid. Through the rancid spiraling a thought came to him. This is for the best. You are becoming greater. You are becoming Prime.

  Inky fingers of wrath oozed from the Prime, grasping and tearing at Gryph’s mind. Slowly bits of him were being flayed and consumed. Gryph was becoming something else. He tried to find himself, some core of who he was to cling onto, even if it were for a few moments, but he felt his light dimming. Soon he would be Prime.

  What was it doing to him? Fear bit into Gryph, and he could feel the alien presence rejoice. Gryph began to disappear. Alien thoughts spread through him, replacing his own. He knew that he should be terrified, but his thoughts were distant as if he were being summoned to a permanent sleep. The Prime was consuming all that he was.

  What is fear? the colonel said from the deepest recesses on his memory. His mind found some measure of calm as the memory of one his father’s earliest lesson came to him. The colonel despised intellectual sloth and believed in the power of books to expand the mind. He had given Finn a well-worn copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune on his tenth birthday and made him memorize the famous litany against fear.

  He turned his internal gaze to the Prime and showed the alien entity what it meant to be a Caldwell. He rushed the Prime, fury and purpose beating the infection back into the deepest part of his mind. Somehow, he knew he couldn’t exorcise it, but he could lock it away. He sealed the mental prison, and the alien presence howled in rage. It beat itself against the fortifications of Gryph’s mind, slowly chipping away at their protection.

  A spike of pain exploded into the back of his head and a terrible scream erupted from his throat. It was both his own voice and the Prime. His body pitched forward, but his mind departed before the body hit the ground. An arrow pierced both the larva and brain st
em and the distant part of him that still existed sped down the tunnel of light.

  As Gryph’s lifeless body hit the sand of the island, a distant voice spoke.

  Thank You.

  31

  Gryph's mind returned with an explosion of shock and pain. He hit the ground hard, his lungs exploding. Not again, Gryph thought as he struggled for breath. Agony throbbed through him as he assessed the damage. He was hurt, but alive. What was happening?

  Debuffs blinked in his vision.

  Debuff added: You have died and respawned.

  All attributes reduced by 25% for two hours.

  Debuff added: Short-term paralysis.

  Cooldown: 2 minutes.

  Died? Gryph's mind surged with panic. Respawned? What the hell is going on?

  He looked around and realized he was in the small cave where he'd killed the barrow rat. He was back where he'd started. His mind struggled to remember what happened. The last thing he remembered was the Prime and the pain. He reached for his neck but could not move.

  Fucking debuffs, Gryph thought. Is that thing still on me? Fear threatened to drag him back into the darkness of the lake, into the maw of the arboleth. His memory of the Prime surged back. Fear crawled into him again, and he sought a safe harbor for his mind.

  As if answering a prayer, a gold prompt unlike any he'd yet seen called to him. With nothing else to do while he waited for the paralysis to wear off, Gryph tapped the prompt with a mental flick.