But who would know and tell me, and not lynch me for asking? From what I'd seen in the tavern, attitudes ranged from hostile to grudging acceptance. There was only one I’d met who seemed even close to receptive to the close proximity of the Daughters of the Dark.
A few minutes later, I was knocking at the herbalist’s door. At this hour, it was closed, but he still came to it and opened it a crack. “Ah!” he exclaimed upon seeing me, opening it and grinning. “My fellow blaspheme!”
“Hi again,” I said awkwardly. “Sorry to bother you this late, but I need to ask you something.”
“You do, do you?” He pushed his spectacles up, to no avail. I wondered if his nose was a slip-and-slide of greasy pores for it to glide down so easily.
I shook the thought from my head, and prayed my charisma could help me out. “I’m looking for the Night Sisters’ sanctuary,” I blurted. “Can you direct me to it?”
The herbalist blinked. “Yes, of course. It's not far outside of town. But why go there now?”
“I'm only here one night. And I'm sure you saw how my companion reacted earlier…”
“Ah. I see.” The herbalist looked speculatively out past me. “Well, it would be very much in the spirit of the Sisters to do so.” He grinned. “It's really quite simple…”
He gave me the directions, and I thanked him. Then I stuck out my hand. “The name's Marrow. In case we ever cross paths again.”
The herbalist tried correcting his glasses one more time before accepting it with a smile. “George. Hope to see you if you pass back through. If you do, I'd be happy to show you a thing or two about herbalry.”
I smiled and nodded, then made my goodbyes and headed off into the night.
Following George’s instructions, I made my way outside of the town to the east, using my map overlay to keep me honest. Looping around an old, gnarled willow and crossing a trickling creek, I saw an edifice looming out of the night. A mix of excitement and fear stirred in my stomach, but I forged ahead across the wild, grassy grounds.
From what I could see of the building, it looked like a castle Count Dracula might have even abandoned. I wondered if the Daughters were undead like the Sisters they worshipped, as I didn’t see how anyone could stand living in the place.
Two great doors still stood in the entrance, rising 40 or so feet up. I stepped up to them and, after a moment's hesitancy, knocked loudly three times. The sound of a deadbolt lifting came almost immediately, and the doors cracked open a moment after, like a porter had just been waiting for my knock. Chills ran up my arms, but I still tugged open one huge door, the mammoth thing swinging on silent hinges.
Inside was grand as a papal cathedral as far as I could tell, though the light from a small yellow lamp mounted on the wall was barely sufficient to illuminate it. Rows of pews lined up, leading towards the front where a plain stone altar was centered. Behind that altar stood an unmoving hooded figure.
“Hello,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage. “I'm here for—”
“I know what you're here for,” a man's voice interrupted.
Now I was confused. Men could be Daughters? Or was something else at play here?
“Okay,” I said slowly. “What am I here for?”
“An escape.” The cowled man took a step around the altar. “A way out of normalcy.”
Suddenly, I had a feeling this wasn't about the new channel. “Am I?”
“You must return.” He continued his slow approach, now coming up the aisle. “Before you disturb the balance.”
“Balance? Return?” He couldn't be talking about logging off, could he? Why would a NPC say that? Maybe it was programmed in that this figure would appear if someone played for too long.
“He wants you to stay, I know,” the cowled man continued. He was halfway towards me, yet I didn’t dare move. “But you must resist, if you can. He does not know that the walks between us and the Everfolk are for the good of all.”
“The Everfolk?” He was talking nonsense, but the meaning behind his message sunk in as an eerie feeling. Suddenly, I was thinking back to the strange “test” the cowled Gnarish had set before me at the beginning of the game, though they were only related by the creepy dress of the messenger.
The hood ruffled as the man shook his head. “Why would he choose you?” he asked softly, more to himself than me, it seemed. “You do not even know who you are.”
“I’m an Everfolk, then?”
But before the man could answer, something creaked off to my right. Before I could turn to look, the cowled man seemed to melt into the shadows at his feet, then was gone.
“What the fuck,” I muttered to myself. I felt I'd touched on something big, and that it was something urgent. But what it was, I had not the slightest clue.
The creak came again, and I turned to see a young woman with bags under her eyes hurrying towards me. “Hello, hello,” she said hurriedly. “Marrow, isn't it? We were told to expect you.”
“Yes,” I said, pushing the incident from my mind. “They told you what I was here for as well?”
“Of course.” The Daughter bowed. “If you'll follow me…”
She took me up the aisle the cowled man had melted into, and I couldn't resist taking a look around to see if he lingered in any corners. I hoped I could learn that magic sometime, but it'd probably be dozens and dozens of levels before there was a chance of that.
We went into a room behind the altar, where the Daughter handed me a yellowed scroll apologetically. “I'm afraid our Mothers asked for a favor in return for our instruction. On this scroll you'll find a recipe for a very potent potion. We need you to either brew it yourself of find someone who can, then deliver it back to us. If you do this, we will teach you the channel you desire.”
New quest: Don't Swallow! (Level 5) [Night Sisters] - Find a brewer for the Daughters of the Dark potion. Hop to it, errand boy!
Reward: 500 XP. Increased alignment with the Night Sisters. A new Black channel.
I unrolled the aged paper, revealing a list of over twenty ingredients, and instructions that extended for twice that length. This didn't seem like an overnight job at all, but I'd have to try nevertheless. Fortunately, I knew exactly who I'd take this to.
“Thank you, Daughter,” I said. I felt I should bow, but no need to make a fool out of myself. Soon enough, we said goodbye, and she saw me to the exit of the sanctuary.
Sometimes a fetch quest is just a fetch quest. Go here, get this, come back. So simple a dog could do it, if they could put a dog in VR.
While this took a little finesse and plying of a previous relationship, I had soon accomplished my task, or near enough. Instead of a potion, I brought back to sanctuary a guarantee with George’s seal on it, claiming he would deliver the potion as soon as it was done brewing. The Daughter reluctantly accepted it in its stead, and I received a notification that the quest was complete, along with an even more welcome one:
You are now Level 5! (+10 Status Points, +4 Attribute Points)
Leaving that for later, I said to the Daughter, “I hope it proves to your satisfaction. Now, since daylight is fast approaching, if I could get mine…?”
A flash of annoyance passed over her expression. “Yes, yes,” she said.
Her hand darted out and grabbed my arm, startling me. “What are you—?” I started, thinking she’d misunderstood me.
The demure girl was gone. “Look at me,” she hissed.
I obliged, and saw that her eyes had gathered a sickly yellow glow. As soon as I met her gaze, my body stiffened. I couldn't move. I thought I'd choke on my own spit. Breathing was nearly impossible inside the shell my body has become. I tried choking out words, but it was too difficult with my jaw locked up.
“Basilisk's Gaze,” the Daughter explained as the yellow glow faded from her eyes. “Paralyzes anyone who looks into your eyes while you're channeling it, at least for a short while. Yours should be fading in a few seconds.”
She was right. My body be
gan to slacken like a melting snowman, until after five more panicked breaths, I collapsed to the ground. “Th-thank you,” I stuttered as I tried mastering myself again.
Then, just like that, knowledge of the channel flooded into me:
You have learned a new channel: Basilisk's Gaze! (Lvl 2)
Affinity: Black
Faith: Night Sisters
Cost: 3 spirit per second
Effect: Paralyze targets level 15 and below for 5 seconds.
I was ecstatic to already get a level 2 channel. Not to mention the possibilities for this with Siphon Essence were mind-boggling. I could perpetually sustain Basilisk’s Gaze in battle that way, so long as I wasn't interrupted. I rose to my feet, my strength returning and panic subsiding.
“Now go,” the Daughter said gently. “Fulfill our Mothers’ mission. Much depends on it.”
Uncertain what to think, but happy enough with the current results, I nodded and left.
16
Crumble
I hoped to return before Farelle was up again, and with dawn burning on the horizon, I’d have to hurry. Still, I was too eager to handle my level up to wait any longer.
Now that I had such a powerful channel and a way to recharge spirit, it was making more and more sense to invest in faith-based magic. That meant the 10 SP were going to increase my spirit meter to 110.
As for the attributes, since I was now leaning more towardly the priestly avenues, I put a couple points into belief. I also had struggled with that bandit’s poison — it couldn’t hurt to bolster my resistance with a point. Finally, since I was looking forward to Farelle teaching me new combat skills, I put a point in dexterity, figuring it’d be helpful later on.
My mana meter was also back up to full, which was a nice bonus.
My stats nicely padded, I sauntered my way back to The Whispering Boar, spirits high as a zeppelin. Until, that is, I walked in the door to see Farelle sitting in a chair, tapping a hole into the floor, arms crossed over her chest.
“And where have you been?” she asked with dangerously measured tones.
“Me? Oh, I just like early morning walks.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve slept in later every morning we’ve travelled together.”
“Have I?” I resisted the urge to scratch at my scalp, a sometimes nervous habit of mine. “Well, no time like the present to start back up good practices.”
“Funny, isn't it?” The Wilder stood and walked over to me, hooves clopping on the wood. “That you return to this habit when we stop here, of all places?”
There was only one way out of this: lying about something so embarrassing she wouldn't question it. “Fine,” I blurted. “You caught me. I was visiting the herbalist.”
An eyebrow arched. “For?”
I hung my head. “For a potion for… male enhancement.”
I didn't meet her eyes for a long minute. When I did, she was smirking, but the smile didn't touch her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “Not sure why you need that — doesn't seem you get much game. But in the future, let's not wander off from each other. Bad things happen when the party splits.”
I nodded, wondering if she knew the truth. No way to know.
Or was there…
I peered at her stats, and sure enough, our relationship had soured to Suspicious. I grimaced. It could be worse, but I definitely didn't want to sour things between my companion and I.
We left the inn and town just after dawn broke, following the river and heading for the Black Craigs, the mountains just beyond Halduran. For several days, all was peaceful and quiet, including between Farelle and myself. Suspicious she might be, but she never accused me of anything, and a subtle watch on her stats told me our relationship was slowly crawling out of Suspicious territory and towards Wary where it had started.
As promised, every night I would cringe about our new arrangement, and Farelle would instruct me in combat training. My weapon skills grew, but I was disappointed she didn't teach me a new combat skill yet. “Patience is a warrior’s greatest ally,” the Wilder chastised me when I mentioned it. “Plus, you suck at weapon skills, so we need to get you up to snuff before we go beyond the basics.” It was a bit discouraging, but by the time we reached the mountains, I had gained levels in Swords and Knives, and I was feeling a bit more confident.
Once we neared the mountains, we left the river and headed for the pass that could bring us safely through the snow-laden peaks. “Don't want to fill those felt boots of yours with snow,” Farelle snorted. I didn't mention how easy it must be for a goat to travel through mountains. No need to sabotage our improving relations.
The day after the mountains came into sight, we found the pass and made to enter it. Running between two mountains leaning close overhead, it began with a arcing natural stone bridge that rose high over a dry canyon. I wasn't sure I like the look of the curved top, which left only a couple feet across flat enough to walk on.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, eyeing the structure.
The Wilder snorted. “I've crossed through this pass a dozen times. I've never been more sure.”
I, however, was still a bit sore from when she had us camp near bandits and we were promptly ambushed in our sleep. “Right…”
Still, in the end, there was no way but forward. I tried not to look down as I stepped onto the bridge and began to climb up it. If I ever figured out how to change races, I reminded myself to never try being a sky elf. I was nearly shitting my pants and the ground was only fifty feet below.
Fifty feet. I swallowed and kept my mind blank going forward.
Meanwhile, Farelle was happily clopping along the stone, practically skipping at times. “Nothing like Helene’s Pass,” she said happily, her voice echoing through the canyon below. “Barely ever monsters here for some reason. You'd think they'd get smart to the travelers passing through here.”
“Don't jinx it,” I groaned.
“Really, this Wilder will keep you safe.” She turned and winked at me, making my stomach lurch with how nonchalantly she balanced atop the bridge.
“But seriously. What creatures are around here?”
“Fine, fine.” She sighed heavily and turned back around. “The most commonly sighted are harpies and marpies.”
I knew what harpies were — winged women with bad tempers — but marpies were knew to me. “What are marpies?” I asked.
“Male harpies,” she responded derisively. “I thought that was obvious.”
“Yeah... I'm not calling them marpies.”
She shrugged. “It's on you if you want to be wrong.”
I ignored her. “What else?”
“There are also trolls — craig trolls and black trolls, if we're being specific.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered. “Anything else?”
“Sure! Goblins, giants, rocs, rock slugs—”
“Rock slugs?”
“The kind that eat through stone. They won't have a hard time eating through you, too, trust me. Then there's also some anti-social tribes of Gnarish you'll want to avoid…”
My heart was racing at this point. “So everything but dragons basically,” I said, fear putting a bite in my words.
Farelle paused in front of me. “Come to think of it, I do think someone saw a wyvern once here. But only a small one.”
I groaned. I guessed even a small cousin of dragons could make a lunch of us and still be hungry. But at least we were nearing the end of the bridge — I could see the other side just ahead.
At that moment, there was a crash on the stone below, and the bridge shook.
My fear-stricken thoughts knew the bridge was collapsing, just as I suspected it would all along. But as I dropped to the stone and hugged it, Farelle was hooking herself around a stony finger to peer down below us.
“Shit!” I heard her yell over the noise. Figuring I was going to die anyway, I followed her lead and did the same.
A wide, gap-toothed face leered up at us, its gray body blen
ding into the landscape around it. A troll, no doubt about it. Not knowing what else to do, I looked up its stats.
Craig Troll (Lvl 35) - A gigantic, cruel being native to the Black Craig mountain range. “Smile pretty and I might not eat you… Just kidding!”
Level 35 — seven times my level, and more than four times Farelle’s now level 8. It was fifty feet below us, but I knew we were screwed. From the way it had banged on the cliffside, it could probably bring down the bridge if it wanted to. Then there’d be nothing we could do to save ourselves.
Farelle had come to the same conclusion. “Run!” she screamed over her shoulder, then bolted. The troll saw us fleeing and roared, then made another attempt at felling the bridge. The stone shook dangerously once more under its blow to the canyon wall. I waited no longer, but scrambled without dignity after my navigator.
“Shit!” The Wilder skidded to a halt just before the end of the bridge, and I knew it couldn’t be a good sign. I didn’t have to wait long to find out why. Screeches and shadows fell upon us as winged people with gaping jaws swooped down from the sky, their claws extended and reaching.
“Fucking harpies too?!” I drew my sword, for whatever good that would do. If I was going to help here, it’d be by magic.
Farelle, fortunately, had her bow out and was notching an arrow. “Marpies actually!” she clarified, then loosed. One of the forms fell with a splat to the ground, and the others screamed louder. And there were plenty others to scream — I counted over a dozen in a brief scan.
The troll, not to be outdone, slammed his club into the cliff again, and the bridge shook once more. Cracks spiderwebbed through the delicate stone. But we couldn’t move yet, for half of the marpies — screw it, harpies — were swooping in for the kill.
Absalom’s Fate Page 11
