by C. M. Carney
The potency of the healing potions continued to amaze him. They didn't just restore health, they knit bones and closed wounds. It was one of the many things in this world he couldn’t wrap his head around. He made himself a promise. If he lived though this hellhole of a dungeon, he would learn how to make them. Lots of them.
He caught his breath and surveyed his surroundings. The lake was large, half a mile across at its widest. It was surrounded on three sides by the high walls of the cavern, but the fourth side had a beach and better yet a solid metal door. There was a way out.
Then he felt a tingle at the back of his mind and his gaze turned to his left like iron to a magnet. Two hundred yards off was an island of rock and sand. A large metal and wood chest sat at the center of the island. A swell of desire rose in his mind. He wanted the chest, wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew it was foolish. He needed to get out of the Barrow, not detour for a few trinkets.
Gryph focused and swam towards the beach. He focussed his mind, ignoring the lure of the chest clawing at his mind. After a few minutes of swimming he was stunned to realize that he had drifted and was now swimming for the island.
I may as well check it out now, Gryph thought. I’m so close.
He pulled himself up onto the island. It was 20 feet to a side. His mind fogged and the pain in his leg faded to a distant throb. The chest was close, and he knew, just knew it contained amazing treasures meant just for him. A shooting pain zipped through the haze as the spear grazed upon the stone of the island.
He grimaced and fell to his knees. Looking down he saw the barbed spear head pushed all the way through the muscle of his calf. Only a few inches of shaft protruded from the other side, broken off in a jagged splintery mess. Gryph grabbed the shaft below the tip and inhaled deeply. On the exhale he yanked the spearhead free drawing a gout of fresh blood. Gryph screamed and lost consciousness.
Sometime later he awoke, surprised the wound in his leg had healed. Residual effects of the healing potion, perhaps? He stood and the pain in his leg had reduced to a deep throb. His mind was foggy, reminiscent of a post bender hangover, but Gryph forgot his pain as he saw the wondrous chest.
He felt a longing like nothing he’d ever experienced. A child’s obsession for a favorite toy or the alcoholic's need for a drink or the returning soldier’s desire for his lover’s touch. It was all these things and more.
He walked to the chest, his fingers trembling in anticipation. Energy flowed from the chest and as he got closer, he saw it was as much a work of art as a container. Aged wood that told a story with carved bas relief images, bolstered by bands of a green metal.
A mighty warrior, shining spear held aloft, stood by the open chest. Rays of radiant gold poured from the chest, bathing the warrior in warmth and glory. His expression was the fulfillment of every promise Gryph now felt in his mind. Whatever was in this chest would change his life forever. The rest of the story told of the great adventures. Kingdoms united. Demonic beasts slain. Evil thrown from the Realms.
Gryph’s mind rushed to Brynn. With this I can save her. The echoes of his thoughts returning to him bolstering his surety. He had never been more confident of anything in his life. With trembling hands he eased the chest open. A low click announced the mechanism had released, and the lid opened on well oiled hinges.
Gryph looked down into the chest with awe. So distracted was he by the wealth in the chest he didn't notice the bubbles of rancid air break the surface a dozen yards behind him.
For the chest contained wonders unlike any Gryph had seen since entering the Realms. His Identify skill surged to life as he pulled each item from the chest.
You have found Elven Bracers of the Return
(Light Armor)(Air Magic)
Item Class: Base - Item Category: Active.
AC Bonus: +8 (+2 Base Item Bonus).
Active Powers.
Power(1): Magnetic Control of Thrown Weapons.
Mana Limit: N/A - Cool Down: 5 seconds.
Yellow elementum scrolling infuses these extraordinary quality leather bracers. Besides providing great armor bonuses, the wearer can use the bracers to summon thrown weapons back to them, allowing them to attack again. There is no cooldown of this power.
You have found Banded Leather Breastplate of the Moon (Light Armor) (Life Magic)
Item Class: Major - Item Category: Passive/Active.
AC Bonus: +18 (+5 Major Item Bonus).
Passive Powers.
Power(1): Health Regen +25%.
Power(2): Resist Death Magic: +25%.
Active Powers.
Power(3): Moon Flare: A surge of moonlight (Life Energy) explodes from the chest plate causing temporary blindness and 5 points of damage per point of mana spent to all creatures of evil alignment and healing 5 points of damage per point of mana spent to self and all allies within 50 feet.
Mana Limit: 20% - Cool Down: 6 hours.
This extraordinary quality leather jerkin is covered in layered bands of green elementum and white mithril.
You have found Elven Boots of Deftness
(Light Armor) (Air Magic)
Item Class: Base - Item Category: Passive/Active.
AC Bonus: +10 (+2 Base Item Bonus).
Passive Powers.
Power(1): +2 Dexterity.
Power(2): -10% Stamina cost for Stealth.
Active Powers.
Power(3): Speed Doubled for 15 seconds per mana point spent.
Mana Limit: 10% - Cool Down: 1 hour.
These extraordinary leather boots are worn by elven warriors. Crafted from the hide of a strike lizard, the boots offer excellent protection and speed based abilities derived from beasts.
You have found Elven War Pants
(Light Armor)
Item Class: Non magical - Item Category: NA.
AC Bonus: +12.
A well made pair of leather pants enhanced with thick hide pads that provides excellent protection.
You have found Cowl of Elvenkind
(Light Armor) (Life Magic)
Item Class: Base - Item Category: Passive.
AC Bonus: +6 (+2 Base Item Bonus).
Passive Powers.
Power(1): +5 Levels to Perception and Analyze while worn.
Mana Limit: NA - Cool Down: NA.
This soft leather cowl is made from the hide of a scout fox. It provides excellent protection and perception abilities derived from the animal. It is the traditional garb of wood elf scouts.
You have found Bane of the Dark (Elvish War Spear)
(Staves/Spears)(Life Magic)
Item Class: Base - Item Category: Passive/Active.
Base Dmg: +11 (+2 Base Item Bonus).
Passive Powers.
Power(1): Double Damage to aetherial, chthonic, death or chaos creatures. The so called Lower Magics.
Active Powers.
Power(2): Banish (Undead or Summoned) Upon Strike a 2% per mana point spent chance to sever the Undead’s/Summoned Being’s connection to their natural realm, thus “killing” it. Capped at 80%.
Mana Limit: 5% - Cool Down: 5 minutes.
This elvish war spear is made from a shaft of white alder wood tipped with mithril and sealed with starflower sap (a Life resin). The life energy in the weapon dispels undead.
You have found Empyrean Spider Silk Rope
(30 feet)
Item Class: Base - Item Category: Passive.
Passive Powers.
Power(1): Compel. Beings tied with this rope are compelled to answer all questions. Chance to resist is equal to twice the beings Wisdom.
Power(2): Animate Rope spells last twice as long.
Mana Limit: NA - Cool Down: NA.
Woven from the silk of an empyrean spider, this rope is nearly unbreakable and like the empyrean spider’s themselves can compel truthful answers from other beings.
The find was incredible and perfectly tailored to him. Part of his mind found this odd, but hi
s excitement drove away all doubts. The chest also contained a sack of 135 gold coins, five more health, stamina and mana potions and a small sack of glowing spell stones. He focused on the individual stones, receiving a slew of prompts.
You have found a spell stone for the Air Magic Spell Halo of Air.
You have found a spell stone for the Life Magic Spell Minor Healing.
You have found a spell stone for the Life Magic Spell Detoxification.
He tucked the bag of spell stones into his inventory and pulled on the pieces of armor. He felt pulses of energy surge through his body as the various passive powers of the items enhanced him. He felt a boost of vitality as the breastplate kicked his Health regeneration into a higher gear. He felt more agile and energetic as he pulled on the boots. He could sense the magnetic forces now at his command as he slipped the bracers onto his forearms. Finally the fog in his mind cleared as the Perception bonus from the cowl became active. He hung the rope at his belt and hefted his upgraded weapon.
Life was good.
A second before pain erupted in his leg his upgraded Perception alerted him to a slithering noise behind him. He turned in panic, but even his newly enhanced Dexterity was not enough to evade the silent attack. A thick grey green tentacle wrapped around his left ankle and needle like spines punctured his skin. Agony tore into his leg as he was dragged into the water.
25
O nce, a long time ago, the Barrow was much larger. The physical space was unchanged. The same caverns and tunnels and ruins of barracks, storage rooms and ancient temples still existed and in the same places. The Barrow was no normal dungeon. It was alive, but it had been slowly dying for hundreds of years.
This is how Ovrym still lived. Had the Barrow taken him at the height of its power he would not have survived more than a few days, never mind the many years he had called this wretched place home. Some days he wondered if his existence was truly living. Perhaps it was his penance. He let these thoughts flow over him and their power dissipated like a wave breaking on a beach.
As Ovyrm sat in his chamber meditating, he felt a ripple in the aether. The disruption that had so long ago sent him on this quest had come. The ripple became an explosion that flowed over him and pulsed outwards to cover the entire world. His eyes opened, pinprick coals of yellow light that pierced darkness and living beings alike. The time he had foreseen was upon him. After years of waiting his purpose had revealed itself.
Ovyrm was a xydai, perhaps the only one in this Realm. His grey skin was the color of spent charcoal, a dusky grey hue, more dead than alive. He was lean and tall. His shining silver white hair was long. Two thin strands of twined hair draped from the side of his head and past the pointed ears that were a daily reminder of his people’s stolen heritage. A long thick braid draped to the middle of his back, clasped with rings of elementum. Badges of honor. Badges of office. Reminders of his betrayal.
He stood and walked to a small shelf against the wall. He drank water from an ancient clay vessel and stoked the coals in the fireplace. The room that had been his home these last several years had likely once been a servants quarter. Long before he arrived. Long before he’d gone into exile not once, but twice.
Now the small space was home. But, as he urged the slumbering coals back to fiery life he knew today, everything would change. He placed a pot of too old mushroom stew over the fire. He willed the gurgles in his stomach from his mind and practiced his forms.
Ovrym had once been an Adjudicator, a warrior monk who had mastered the aether in the service of Order. As he moved through the forms with practiced ease, his mind settled once more. He drew back from the negative thoughts that daily threatened to smother him and opened himself to the aether as sweat rose on his body.
The aether was ever present and had always been, the first of the spheres. To the uninitiated the aether felt like an endless sea of sameness, but to one attuned it was a flowing ocean of current and potential. It was the most dangerous force in the universe, desperate to drag all of existence back into its primordial soup. But it was also the All from whence creation rose.
Ovrym stilled his body, rigid as a statue, relaxed as water and sent his thoughts into the aether. His mind snaked through the tunnels and passageways like blood through veins. Pockets of light pulsed like organs as he traversed the body of the Barrow. He avoided the large glow in the depths and snaked around the wyrmynn camp. He slowed as he passed through the small outpost he had once called home, but moved on before sentiment could grab hold of him.
He zipped and flowed and found what he sought. It was a man, a high elf, a race long believed to have abandoned this world as his own people had. He stretched himself around the newcomer and saw a mote of pure power at his core. Ovyrm sent his thoughts into the mote and it pulsed with violent light.
Back in his cave Ovyrm fell to the ground, stunned. Surges of all the spheres of magic bit into him sending cascades of pain into every cell. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. After a moment the pain disappeared and Ovrym regained control of himself.
“A Godhead. So it is true,” Ovyrm said with fearful glee.
Ovyrm sat and ate. The warmth from the stew brought comfort to his body as he tried to bring calm to his mind. After eating he stood and walked to a chest in the corner of the room. It was time to suit up. The Order had long followed a ritual of preparation. Patterns brought meaning to life and helped to tame the aether.
First, he pulled on breeches made from the spun silk of aether wyrms and felt a rush of wellbeing enhance his Stamina. His empyrean bull leather jerkin came next, and he felt a surge of Health pump through his veins. Arm wraps of treated celestial tree bark came next along with boots made from the hide of a prismatic serpent. His mind grew clear and his body grew stronger and more agile. He pulled his bow and quiver onto his back.
Finally, he took his Bleed Metal Saber from its pegs on the wall and strapped it to his waist. The traditional weapon of the Order was a razor sharp curved blade made from elementum that had passed through a bleed zone, a place where the spheres of magic held no sway. The saber, like the Bleed itself, acted as a magical null zone, capable of dispelling all magics. In the hands of an Adjudicator it was a powerful weapon.
Ovrym exited his small cave and entered a larger one. The steady trickle from the stream that fed his garden helped ease his mind. Even here, in the depths of the Barrow life held sway.
He stopped at a wall of rough stone and gestured a pattern with his fingers. The stone flowed apart, its base structure altered by the aether itself. He stepped through, wrapped himself in Stealth and made his way towards the disturbance.
It took several hours to find the newcomer. During the journey Ovyrm felt ripples of pain, fear and triumph pulse through the aether. He passed many a beast on his journey. Wyrmynn and ridge worms, gnome and umber beasts. Once he was so close to his old companions from the Grey Company, he could hear their joking. He pushed back his feeling of loss and let them pass.
After a long search, he found him. The man with the Godhead.
Ovrym was at the end of a long unused tunnel, one blocked by an ancient cave in. Beyond he could feel the man. He was in a large chamber dominated by water. An underground reservoir. He raised his hand ready to ease the broken and fallen earth aside as he had the barrier that protected his home.
But then he felt something else. Something primal that dredged up ancient feelings of terror in all xydai. Something that should not, could not, be here.
“An arboleth. The ancient enemy," Ovrym said in fear and disbelief. “How?”
His hand hesitated and shook. Ovrym pulled his attention away from the chamber and to his hand. He attempted to calm it, yet for long seconds it ignored his commands. Fear battled purpose. Ovrym knew he had to reach the man, but to face an arboleth was worse than suicide.
He closed his eyes and centered his thoughts. After long moments he was back in control.
Ovyrm sent pulses of aetherial magic into the
dirt and stone in front of him. Slowly the rubble morphed and melted and spread open. There was just enough room for him to shimmy through and he found himself on a ledge high above the water.
The cavern was huge, the largest he had seen so far in the Barrow. The man was far below on a small island in the center of the lake, standing in front of an open chest. He was pulling pieces of armor from the chest and donning them. From this distance his Identify skill could not make out the items stats, but their quality was exquisite.
As Ovrym turned his Analyze skill on the man with the Godhead an invasive feeling of longing flowed into his mind. He wanted what was in the chest. He had to have it. Before realizing it, Ovyrm had taken several steps forwards and his mind was calculating a dive into the waters.
“By Ymiir?” Ovyrm thought shaking his head to regain control. He focused and flushed the toxic thoughts from his mind. The room was rife with powerful magic of a kind he had never encountered. Something that grabbed onto the core of his being and dragged him forward. It was only his stringent mental training and his skill level in Thought Magic that had allowed him to regain control. No wonder the man below could not resist the siren call.
It was the Barrow, Ovrym realized. It had to be. He’d known for some time that the Barrow had the ability to compel creatures of all kind to enter its depths. That is how he and the Grey Company were snared. But this level of hold on the mind was much stronger than any he had felt even on that day so long ago.
The chest. The powerful magic was centered on the chest, drawing the man in like a vulture to carrion. The man must have awakened the arboleth. That was why Ovrym had never felt the stained thoughts of the aberration before now. It had been slumbering.
