by C. M. Carney
Ovyrm’s eyes snapped open as the pain awoke him. He nearly gasped, but refrained. They swung in a loose parabola back and forth, coming closer and closer to the spasming sides of the shaft with each motion, before their spin calmed and eased. A small grunt of pain pushed through Ovyrm’s lips and tendrils reached out and towards him.
One entwined itself around Ovyrm’s waist and Gryph could hear the dull sizzle as the acid ate through the warrior monk armor. Then another reached towards Ovrym’s face. It slid across the man’s exposed skin and ate at his flesh. Tears streamed down the xydai’s face and blood oozed from the corners of his mouth where he had bit his tongue to hold back from screaming.
But soon the pain was too much and Ovyrm howled. The ooze reacted with hunger and tendrils whipped out from the walls. They twined around both men and Gryph felt himself burn. He too screamed. His health plummeted.
Debuff Added: Acid damage. 20 points/second.
Gryph was being eaten alive and knew he had mere seconds. Then there was a pop and another and another and plumes of silver laden water covered him. The ooze instantly retreated, and the solution counteracted the acid attack, easing Gryph’s pain.
He looked up to see Wick tossing a few more of the silver concoctions clearing most of the bridge. He then pulled his silver dagger and swiped at a tendril that came close. It cleaved through the gloppy ooze with a sizzle and a hiss. Three more tentacles met the same fate before the assault stopped.
“We need to get back up to that bridge,” Ovyrm yelled through gritted teeth. “There’s a tunnel we can use to escape this hellhole.”
Gryph nodded and commanded his rope to pull them to safety. Wick held guard as Gryph pushed Ovrym up onto the bridge. Both men downed a health potion. Ovrym pulled a few silver potions from his pack and advanced on the ooze-covered wall. He held the potions high and stared in silence at the pulsating blob. His eyes closed as if he were attempting to communicate with the beast.
After a moment's pause Ovyrm fell to one knee. The tendrils withdrew their attack and the ooze in front of Ovyrm sluiced open, revealing a tunnel. “We have come to an agreement.”
“You can’t be serious. You trust this giant blob of acid snot?” Wick said, as he eyed the now smooth surface of the ooze.
“It's mind is very alien, but it understands pain as well as any other living creature. I promised it far more pain if it did not let us pass in peace.”
“Will it keep its side of the bargain?” Gryph asked, eyeing the long tunnel ahead.
“I believe it will, but hold your silver solutions in your hands and be ready to run.”
Gryph reluctantly nodded and watched for a moment as Ovyrm entered the tunnel. He had a flash of being stuck in the digestive tract of a massive beast and felt himself panic slightly. He breathed a few deep breaths before stepping in as well.
“I hate this fucking place,” Gryph muttered.
The party moved slowly through the tunnel as it turned and weaved. As they walked, the ooze parted like the red sea as they approached and flowed back in as they walked past.
“The walls are moving. The ceiling is moving. The floor is moving.” Wick grumbled as he forced back another bought of claustrophobia. “Absolutely nothing about this is okay.”
“Quiet,” Ovrym said in a calm, but deadly tone.
As they rounded another corner, it dawned on Gryph that without Ovyrm’s parlay there was no way they’d have been able to force their way through this length on tunnel. Had this been a part of the plan?
Ovyrm turned another corner and Gryph heard the man say “Almost through,” in a calm voice. Gryph breathed heavily and tried not to run as he rounded the bend and light from the end of the tunnel came into view.
Ovyrm passed through unscathed. He smiled at Gryph and nodded, pointing his attention to the ground at the tunnel’s exit. Gryph saw a perfect crescent of silver embedded in the floor. As he crossed over the barrier, he craned his neck. The thin silver band crested the entire entranceway like the line of a magic circle. As his foot hit solid ground on the other side he realized he’d been holding his breath. The exhalation was as big a relief as any he’d ever experienced.
Ovrym motioned Gryph to stand behind him. “Keep those solutions ready.”
As Wick turned the last corner a huge grin crossed his face, and he ran. The sudden motion caused the ooze to flutter and pulse. “Slow,” Ovrym warned, but Wick would have none of it. Panic had taken him.
Wick was near the end when his toe caught a ridge on the floor and he went down. The vial in his left hand skittered across the floor before bouncing up and onto the wall where it burst. The ooze at the point of contact sizzled and disappeared, burned away under the power of the silver.
Wick struggled to get to his feet as the rest of the ooze pulsed in what may have been anger. Gryph could hear a deep rumbles akin to the sound of water gurgling deep inside a network of pipes, but this was a hundred times louder.
Ovrym didn’t hesitate and lobbed several of the silver grenades into the tunnel. This opened a path for Wick who scrambled to his feet and ran again. This time tendrils erupted from the sides and the roof of the tunnel, tripping Wick.
Terror crossed the gnome’s face as he jerked to a stop and the noise from further down the tunnel grew to a cacophony. More tendrils lashed out, enveloping Wick. He screamed as the acid dissolved his skin.
Gryph drew his ice dagger and rushed back in the tunnel, hacking and slashing at tendrils that came his way. The daggers did not slice through the thick liquid the way the silver did, but the freeze damage seemed to stop them in their tracks for a few moments.
Unfortunately he still felt the burning pain of dozens of tendrils latching onto his limbs and biting into his face. The cloying black ooze could just muster up more tentacles than he could cut. The world turned to black as the ooze sealed off the entrance, entombing them.
Gryph heard Wick’s low moans ahead and knew his friend was near death. If only he could get to him. Another tendril gripped him around the arm, and another around the neck. Deep, burning pain dug into Gryph. Death was coming for him.
37
S afe in the antechamber, Ovrym howled as the tunnel sealed with a plug of bulbous ooze. He tossed his last few vials of colloidal silver at the rancid beast, but only burned the edges away.
His friends were trapped and they would soon be dead. Then he could see a glow begin to rise deep inside the tunnel as ooze bubbled and boiled off like water sputtering off a newly forged sword. Rancid steam and bits off burning ooze erupted from the tunnel like over shaken champagne and Ovyrm dove aside.
*****
Inside the tunnel the world went quiet as the ooze enveloped Gryph. He was in agony, but his outstretched arm found Wick. He found the gnome’s head and cradled it in his arms. Gryph then drew every ounce of Mana he could from deep inside of him. When it had built up in his mind to bursting, Gryph fed it into his breastplate and ordered it to explode.
The burning stopped instantly as the healing light ravaged the black ooze, burning it away like the desert sun to spilt water. Gryph could hear a deep rumble and a splintering of stone as the black ooze tried to force too much of itself into too small a space, desperate to get away from the scalding light. Gryph opened his eyes as the healing warmth of the light eased his pain.
He looked down on Wick who was inhaling deep ragged breaths. He was alive, but only just. The deadly acid had sheared his blue hair and his skin was raw and blistered. Gryph upended a health potion into Wick’s mouth, again amazed at the healing powers of the Realms.
A moment later he heard Ovyrm’s voice. “Keep a hold of him. I got you both.” Gryph gripped both arms around Wick’s child sized body and cradled him as Ovrym’s strong arms pulled them both into the light and airiness of the cavern beyond the tunnel.
Wick was alive, but unconscious. As Ovrym tended to him, Gryph downed another health potion. The warmth flowed through him, eased his pain and smoothed out the acid burns
that covered much of his exposed flesh.
Ovrym carried Wick and led them to another tunnel at the opposite end of the small chamber. “The ooze shouldn’t be able to get past the vein of silver, but I’d rather not test that theory.”
“Seems rather convenient,” Gryph said. “A silver vein in exactly the right place to keep that monster at bay.”
“It is no accident friend. It is the will of the Barrow,” Ovyrm said as if that explained anything. They moved through the tunnel and came to what appeared to be a dead end. A slab of granite blocked the way forward. Ovyrm nodded to a small lever. Gryph eyed it a moment before turning it. A grinding of stone on stone rose as the slab of stone eased aside on a well oiled track.
“What do you mean the will of the Barrow? You act as if this place is alive.”
“It is,” Ovyrm said as he slipped through the opening left in the wake of the grinding slab. He eased Wick down and checked on him again.
“I don’t understand.”
“Long ago, something happened here. A battle between two powerful users of magic. I believe it was that battle that sent this tower plummeting into the depths of the earth. I think that battle not only made the Barrow, but the Barrow King.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
Ovrym eased Wick onto the ground and placed the gnome’s pack under his head. Wick groaned in his sleep, but did not wake.
“My Order is trained in thought magic,” Ovyrm said. “It helps us uncover truths and better enforce the Accords. I am gifted in that art. Perhaps that is why they tolerated a xydai.” The already melancholy man seemed to descend deeper into the darkness of his past for a moment, before coming back to the present. "It is difficult to explain, but a powerful mind infuses the Barrow. Whatever the Barrow King once was, it is now a disembodied mind whose will can alter the very fabric of the dungeon."
“Yes. The Barrow King is weaker than he once was. He is hungry and his ability to alter the Barrow is waning. Good for us. Had we fallen into its trap in his prime, we would have long ago been consumed.”
“Consumed?”
“Yes, I don’t know how exactly but the Barrow feeds on life. It lures prey into itself with the promise of treasure and glory and then slowly consumes them.”
“A Venus flytrap,” Gryph muttered.
Ovrym gave him an odd look.
“There is a plant where I’m from that uses a sticky, sweet sap to lure insects into itself. Then it traps and consumes them.”
“An apt analogy.”
“And I’m the juiciest of flies,” Gryph said.
“Whatever happens my odd immortal friend, you must not let the evil in this place take you.”
Ovyrm locked eyes with Gryph and he knew that to prevent the Barrow King from attaining the Godhead, the Adjudicator would kill him again and again.
“Rest if you can.. Wick will be unconscious for a few more hours.”
Gryph nodded and glanced around the small chamber for a place to lie down. Near the far wall was a small alcove covered in worn runes. Curiosity tugged at Gryph and he walked to the niche. The runes were too faded to make out, but the spot had the feel of an ancient altar. There was something warm and inviting about the spot and before he realized it Gryph had placed his hands on the small altar. A prompt floated into his vision.
Respawn Point Discovered.
You have discovered a nexus of power that can be designated as a respawn point. Do you wish to change your respawn point to this location?
Gryph jumped back in alarm. He already knew that he was functionally immortal, but having his ability to return from death so casually tossed in his face was jarring. He let his heart rate cool and then placed his hands back on the altar.
Do you wish to change your respawn location to this Respawn Point?
Gryph toggled the YES icon. At the very least if he died again he wouldn’t have to traverse the pit of horrors where the black ooze lived. A pulse of warmth flowed from the altar through his arms and into his body. The warmth was relaxing and Gryph found his mind eased somewhat.
Congratulations. You have changed your Respawn Point.
Gryph tried not to dwell on the casual nature the game dealt with death. His eyes drifted over to Wick and Ovyrm and he knew that neither of his companions was blessed with the same gift. They had one life, which made them more precious. He was starting to wonder if he'd selected the right Divine Perk.
What is the point of all this? Gryph thought to himself. Brynn’s face popped into his head again. She'd been terrified, so why had she entered the Realms and where was she now? Whatever part Brynn had wanted him to play, this was not it. He calmed his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. The plan still hadn’t changed. He needed to get out of the Barrow. Only then could he find Brynn. For now, his greatest chance at success seemed to be with the two men next to him.
It was time to spend his two saved Perk Points. He was sick of being so easily damaged. Not only did this increase his chance of dying, but it really damn hurt. Gryph opened up his Light Armor perk tree.
Set Bonus: The bonus to AC when a complete set of light armor is worn.
Agile Defense: It is easier to move in light armor, thus making it more likely to avoid attacks. The % bonus to AC for light armor.
Silence: The increase to Stealth while a complete set of light armor is worn.
Damage Reduction: The reduction to damage when a full set of light armor is worn.
This choice was a no-brainer. He put one point into Agile Defense and another into Damage Reduction.
Light Armor Perk Tree
Tier
Set Bonus
Agile Defense
Silence
Reduction
Base
20%
25%
20%
20%
Apprentice
30%
40%
30%
30%
Journeyman
40%
60%
40%
40%
Master
50%
80%
50%
50%
Grandmaster
60%
100%
60%
60%
Divine
75%
2X
75%
75%
Gryph and Ovyrm came up with a plan and then Gryph lay down for some much needed rest. Several hours later, Ovrym shook Gryph awake. He nodded towards Wick who was sitting up and eating. Gryph stood and went over to Wick, who smiled up at him grimly. The gnome’s skin was still raw and red, but the deep scarring of the acid had healed. His hair was a different matter. Gone were most of the long, flowing azure locks that had once graced the diminutive mans head. What remained reminded Gryph of the time five-year-old Brynn had given “my dolly a haircut”, a mohawk styled by a drunk blind man. But Wick’s smile remained.
“You look good,” Gryph said.
“Liar,” Wick said and grasped Gryph by the forearm. “Thank you,” he said. In answer, Gryph nodded. Gryph felt the strong grip on his arm, he saw the intense look in Wick’s eyes and knew that the gnome was a true friend.
“We’ll save her,” Gryph said and told Wick the plan he and Ovyrm had conceived while Wick had been resting.
“You’re plan is insane.”
“You have a better idea?”
The gnome thought for a moment, before nodding his head no. “Guess we go with insane then.”
Several hours later, Ovrym shook Gryph awake. He nodded towards Wick who was sitting up and eating. Gryph stood and went over to Wick, who smiled up at him grimly. The gnome’s skin was still raw and red, but the deep scarring of the acid had healed. His hair was a different matter. Gone were most of the long, flowing azure locks that had once graced the diminutive mans head. What remained reminded Gryph of the time five-year-old Brynn had given “my dolly a haircut”, a mohawk styled by a drunk blind man. B
ut Wick’s smile remained.
“You look good,” Gryph said.
“Liar,” Wick said and grasped Gryph by the forearm. “Thank you,” he said. In answer, Gryph nodded. Gryph felt the strong grip on his arm, he saw the intense look in Wick’s eyes and knew that the gnome was a true friend.
“It is time,” Ovrym said as he helped Wick to his feet. “Time to visit some old friends.”
The men geared up and walked to the secret door that kept this room hidden. Ovrym had insisted that nobody else knew about the room, but once they opened the door, they would be in the province of the Grey Company.
“Ready?” the yellow-eyed man asked. Wick and Gryph nodded grimly.
Ovrym eased his hand into a small crevasse and with a small click the door eased open, exposing stone steps carved directly into the rock. They climbed the stairs and emerged into what appeared to be an ancient storeroom. Massive stone urns that likely once held the water supply when the Barrow had been a tower lined the room.
After they climbed out, Ovrym twisted an old faucet and two halves of another ancient urn moved with a low grinding noise. Gryph admired the handiwork as the secret passageway sealed itself shut, leaving no trace that this urn was any different from the rest of its brethren.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” a deep voice tinged with amusement and danger said and a group of men wielding bows and swords emerged from the shadows.
38
“H ello Dirge,” Ovyrm said, only mildly surprised. “Long time.”
The man named Dirge emerged from the shadows. He was wiry, but held a deadly grace that Gryph had seen in many men. A grace that not only suggested an ability for deadly violence, but a love of it.
