Gitch was now down to 24% mana. Retreating wasn’t an option, and neither could he afford to cast any of his spells. With a grim determination, he pulled out his needle. Gitch turned to face the rakatu, and charged headlong. The pitter-patter of his tiny feet echoed across the large chamber. He tossed his last remaining Trilit ball at Zargath, hitting him square in the chest.
Congratulations! Trilit has increased to level 5!
Stun duration per ball amended to 2 minutes, minus 22 seconds per rank of positive alignment
Damage per ball increased to 20, plus 5 additional damage per rank of negative alignment
The impact left a brilliant hole which burned and sizzled. Zargath grunted in pain, but otherwise seemed unaffected. He stuck out his palm just before Gitch reached the end of the bridge. Zargath uttered a one-word incantation, and Gitch felt a dark force slam into him. He was sent tumbling over the edge. His needle fell through the dark portal, but Gitch was able to swing his feet back to just catch the edge of the bridge. He hung upside-down, already beginning to slide.
He heard heavy footsteps from above. “Isn’t this interesting. Shall I keep you for a pet, or send you on through the portal as a precursor for my precious minions. A taste of what is to come when they finally flood through. Oh, the choices!” Zargath laughed.
Gitch was down to just 12% of his total mana, and he would be dead or worse within the next few seconds. He was just about to shout some awesome one liner about revenge, but something hit him smack-dab in his right eye. His acorn necklace! He grabbed it without hesitation and blew into the magical nut.
The whistle screamed against the cavern walls, echoing for three miles in all directions. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew there was little chance that some beast, which happened to be friendly towards fairies, was close enough to offer any real assistance. It was a last-ditch effort to halt the inevitable.
He heard cold laughter from above, immediately followed by a terrifying scream. Gitch heard something like galloping, and then another scream, but this one seemed to belong to a different voice. Something shattered on the ground, bathing the cavern in a pale blue light. He had no idea what was going on, but his mana stopped dropping. Gitch saw it stall out at 15 points, and then begin increasing at a pace somewhere close to 180 points per minute! He gladly spent some mana to fly back topside, eager to see what the Dufflin was going on.
Zargath was standing back up with a grimace on his face. Blood dripped from a wound on his side, and his shoulder hung loose from dislocation. Shards of glass were strewn across the bridge next to him and a blue vapor was spiraling upward.
His savior was standing not ten feet away, looking at him carefully. It was the third figure that had been trapped within the circle of purple glyphs. Gitch was hesitant to call it a ‘him’ or ‘her’. The thing was bipedal and stood four and a half feet tall, with a pair of 13-inch long black horns jutting out of its head. It was covered head to toe with shaggy grey fur, and its knees bent the wrong direction. If Gitch didn’t know any better, he might think this was...
“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Misha, by chance?” Gitch asked.
The creature shook in surprise and stamped the floor, but smiled at him all the same. “Well met, friend! I am indeed Misha. You must be the fairy in need of assistance. You have a familiar scent about you. Tell me, do you know of a short fellow by the name of Dwik?” the goat said with a true Georgian accent. If he closed his eyes, he could picture him as some southern lawyer or college professor.
“Yes, Dwik and I are friends. Were friends. We might still be friends, or he might want to murder me, I’m not really sure at the moment.”
Misha cocked his head to the side and was about to ask a follow-up, but was interrupted by a loud cough. They both looked over to where Zargath was watching rather impatiently. “You do know both of you are about to die, right? When I am finished with you, I will find this Dwik character, turn him into my pet, and have him eat your corpses before I slit his throat!”
“Zargath, you are a freak, and you will die. Soon,” Gitch said through gritted teeth. He and Dwik may be going through a bit of a rough patch, but he would not suffer this douchesicle to threaten his friend and brother any longer. He activated polymorph.
Gitch felt his skin turn scaly as a long tail unpleasantly popped into existence. His fingers retracted, replaced by a set of deadly sharp claws. He could feel his wings stiffen and his head squish. His vision, hearing, and even sense of smell were all enhanced greatly. A forked tongue issued out from his lips, and he could taste the delicious poison coating the walls of his mouth.
You have morphed into a Tree-Dragon!
Warning! You must transform back to fairy form within 11 minutes!
Congratulations! Polymorph increased to level 3!
Maximum duration increased to 12 minutes
He. was. DRAGON! Gitch could feel pure, unadulterated power coursing through his veins, even though he was not much larger in this form. Apparently, tree-dragons were the runts of the dragon family (something he would need to remember to mention to Boker when he saw him next). Regardless, he could smell fear and hatred emanating out of Zargath, and watched as the mage slowly backed away. He heared Misha’s hooves on the stone bridge and knew he was backing away as well, but that was fine.
Both of his steely eyes were placed firmly on Zargath, whose swirling mists now looked more like cheap parlor tricks than true magic. Gitch smiled, flashing row after row of pointed teeth. A new smell wafted his way, and he knew he had him. Gitch lifted into the air and was on him in seconds. Zargath tried to cast a spell, pointing his flaming staff at the diminutive dragon, but he slipped on his own urine, falling flat on his back. Gitch landed on top of him. Biting, tearing, clawing, stabbing. All that mattered was making sure this piece of filth died. Horribly.
Gitch didn’t slow until he heard the beating of Zargath’s heart come to a complete stop. Even then, he wasn’t completely satisfied. Much like he did with the imp leader when ambushed in the forest, he wanted to make sure this guy was uber dead. With one of his long claws, he unceremoniously opened Zargath’s mouth and hawked up a glob of whatever concoction had been forming in the back of his throat. It was a foamy white sludge that ignited shortly after leaving his mouth. Zargath’s head went up in flames, which quickly spread to the rest of his body.
You have slain Zargath, Level 12
Experience points received: 810 (550)
Quest completed: A Fairy Sneaky Mission
Zargath the terrible lays dead and the Dufflin Forest is one step closer to peace everlasting. You actually did it!
Reward:
100 reputation points with all creatures of positive alignment
-200 reputation points with creatures of negative alignment
2100 (2000) experience points
HARK! You have manifested to level 8! Continue on this journey to realize the furthest depths of your true self!
You have gained 1 attribute point to distribute.
Health increased from 161 to 184
Mana increased from 609 to 696
Stamina increased from 397 to 454
HARK! You have manifested to level 9! Continue on this journey to realize the furthest depths of your true self!
You have gained 1 attribute point to distribute.
Health increased from 184 to 207
Mana increased from 696 to 783
Stamina increased from 454 to 510
Finally appeased, he deactivated polymorph and returned to his fairy form. Misha was staring at him, open mouthed.
“Um... I just really don’t like bad guys. Don’t worry, we’re cool.”
Misha gulped, but nodded. Gitch looked down at the burning corpse, slightly frustrated that he wouldn’t be able to loot the body. Everyone knew that bosses carried the best loot. He sighed and began walking to the center platform, at which point he was interrupted by a tenacious snarl.
“WHERE IS THAT DEMON, ZARGATH?” Croken sho
uted.
“You needn’t worry, Mr. Croken. He is dead, though he was no demon. Zargath was a run-of-the-mill evil mage that was pulled in way over his head. His task was to prepare the way for the imp armies, led of course by their demon master. Much of the power Zargath possessed came from that orb.” He pointed to the glowing sphere that was still resting on the dark pedestal.
“So that thing is powering the portal?” Gitch asked. He was all for catching up with his brother, but time was of the essence and he really didn’t need something dark and demony flying out of the portal below.
“That is correc-wait!”
Gitch hurried over to the pedestal and stuffed the orb into his Pouch of Holding. As soon as he picked it up, the beam of energy that tethered the platform to the portal snapped. This caused the portal to collapse, bringing some rather unfortunate consequences. The walls began to shake and large cracks appeared throughout the bridge and platform. Misha almost tumbled over the side, but Croken was quick enough to grab him by the beard and pull him back to safety. The two of them ran down the bridge, with Gitch flying close behind. Croken lowered his shoulder and barreled through the back of the skull-door, flinging bits of bone everywhere like shrapnel. The hall was still empty, but small pebble-sized rocks began falling from the ceiling.
“Hey, brilliant move. Really liked the part where you tried to kill us in there!” Croken said sarcastically.
“I guess I could have let some evil rat mage mind control me. Worked well for you, didn’t it? Did he make you call him Han? Because you were pretty much his pet Wookie,” Gitch shot back. He wasn’t really mad, but he knew just how to push his brother’s buttons. Croken clenched his fists together and looked ready to throttle him.
“You better watch yourself, Sparkles. In case you didn’t notice,” he opened his massive jaws wide, showing off his very large, very intimidating teeth. “I’m a bit of a carnivore.”
Gitch wasn’t concerned, he knew Tommy was all bark and no bite. Well, used to be anyway. He’d be hard pressed to find a gentler soul than his Tommy. That’s precisely why he stood his ground. “I do not sparkle!” Gitch shouted, flying up to within inches of Croken’s face.
Croken let out a menacing growl and bared his teeth again. “I do not care! I spent a lot of time and a lot of money coming to this freaking forest, and if you manage to get me killed before I find my brother, I swear I will find my way back and literally tear you in half!”
This was fun! Gitch was having a hard time not cracking a smile. Seeing Tommy stick up for himself made Gitch proud. Time to screw with him just a little more.
“Wait, your brother wouldn’t happen to be Gitch, would it?”
“You know him? Where is he?!?” Croken said, eyes wide in shock.
“Oh yeah, I know him. Killed him twice, I did. Really horrible deaths too.”
“WHAT? You crazy flying eraser, he is twice the man you will ever be!”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.”
“You murderous piece of-OWWW!”
Gitch dodged Croken’s reaching hands, finishing with a slap on his elongated snout, chuckling all the while. Only when Croken leapt forward to try and take a legitimate bite out of him did he call it quits.
“Tommy Salami, it’s me man! What do ya think? Pink my color?” he said, turning around in mid-air.
The Yazzik stopped rubbing his nose and bent down to look at Gitch, eyes growing even wider. Rocks were continuing to fall all around them, but neither gave them any attention. Croken’s mouth hung open as he stared dumbly.
“Ollie?”
Chapter 29
Gitch smiled wide. “In the pink, fairy flesh, little bro! I may have to stop with the ‘little’ part, though.” Croken ran forward, and Gitch flew to meet him. They embraced as only a 5-inch tall fairy and a 9-foot tall yazzik could. A tear might have been shed, and a sob might have broken out, but no one would tell. In that moment of falling rocks and cracking floors, all that mattered was that he had found his brother. The moment was only broken when Misha let out an ear-piercing scream.
“I do apologize for breaking it up, but we do need to at least try and escape this evil place. Where is the exit?”
“I think there is a stairwell on the far side,” Gitch said.
“You think? How did you get here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gitch mumbled.
Croken gave him a funny look, but shrugged. “Fine, but Misha is right. We need to hurry before the whole cave falls down on our heads.”
They rushed down the hall, careful to avoid the ever-increasing size and number of falling rocks and pop-up crevasses. Gitch was the smallest target and didn’t have to worry about the ground, but any one of those rocks had the potential to snuff him out. He hung out on Croken’s shoulder, giving him a heads up on any falling debris. Misha followed close behind.
The next level was similar, but had several passages branching off from the main hall. A chunk of ceiling knocked Misha in the shoulder, but Gitch was able to spend just 145 mana to heal him up fully. In doing so, he learned his race was no longer ‘goat’. It actually listed him as a goshen. The shaking died down just a tad on the third floor, and he decided to ask his story as they ran.
“Misha, I don’t mean to be inconsiderate, but Dwik made it seem like you were a normal goat. What’s up?”
“This is true. I was once a dumb beast, but no longer. Zargath had been experimenting and transformed me into something more. It has been less than a month since I gained my sentience. When he discovered his success, he began teaching me, preparing me for what was to come.” Misha paused, appearing uncertain if he should continue, but Gitch’s interest was fully piqued.
“What was to come, Misha?”
He sighed, but answered him. “You remember I said that the demon master would soon be coming through the portal? Demons do not port well, and their host-vessel is almost always burned away. What I do know, is that goats make fine substitutes. Goats are easy to possess, but we are weak, stupid, and soulless. These three areas are key to optimal demon possession and must be addressed prior to a demon’s arrival.
That was the real reason Zargath was sent ahead. Me. He already tried converting Polka, and Tacka was next if I was deemed a failure. Thank you for breaking the enchantment with that little necklace of yours. I fear they were close to completing the ritual. I have no interest in being controlled by another. Now that I have discovered myself, I have no desire to relinquish control.”
“Props to you, man,” Croken said admirably.
“I am not a man. I am a goshen.” Misha admonished.
“And touchy,” Gitch whispered in his brother’s ear. Croken didn’t say anything, but let out an ugly snort. As they neared the stairs leading to the second floor, Gitch thought to ask Croken how and why he was even there. Might as well get both stories together.
“I got your letter, Ollie. I had a feeling you would do something stupid, like enter Manifest. I was hoping you would remember my name and maybe think to send me a message. I have been checking every day, saving enough for a single port, just in case. My luck skill is only 18, but I just happened to be in one of the larger cities and saw your letter almost instantly. I looked up the location of the Dufflin Forest and bought a port for the nearest town, a dumpy little place called Hogmorrow. I would not recommend visiting unless you fancy losing all your money, and maybe some dignity while you’re at it.
Anyway, I left the town pretty much right away and headed north. Your letter mentioned one of your friends being an imp so I thought they would be friendly. Nope! Next time, try to be a little more descriptive in your letters. It would have been nice to know there was a full-on war taking place and that you were on the fairy side!
A few dozen imps saw me while they were out on patrol, capturing me with ease. I may be strong, but they had numbers and wings. They took me to Zargath, and he cast some sort of mind-control spell on me. You pretty much know the rest.”
G
itch listened patiently, but one thing stuck out at him above all the rest, even over his barb about the letter.
“You have a luck score of 18?!” he said in astonishment.
“Yeah, I know, it’s one of my lower attribute ranks. What’s yours?” Croken said as he narrowly missed being impaled by a falling stalactite. Gitch was so completely sidetracked he had stopped shouting warnings.
“I kind of hate you right now,” Gitch said sourly. “Mine’s 1.”
Croken snorted, but tried to backtrack at seeing the death stare his ‘big’ brother was giving him. “Oh, uh... sorry, all this dust is wreaking havoc on my allergies.”
“Whatever, Simba. I still saved your flea-ridden butt.”
“Did you?” Croken said, unconvinced. He shot a look over at Misha.
A large crack in the floor appeared just in front of Croken. He leapt over the growing chasm and turned back to help Misha across. He needn’t have worried. The sure-footed goshen bounded over the gap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Gitch was just glad he had the option to fly, or sit in this case. He decided it was time to shut up and focus on getting out of there alive.
They gained yet another cause for concern upon reaching level two. All of the upper floors had been devoid of life, but not this one. Scores of imps were pouring out of a side passage, all trying to dodge the falling debris. Most failed. The falling rocks on this floor were much larger and fell much faster than what they had witnessed on the floors above. A few of the imps were successful, but most were struck down. The lucky ones were pulverized instantly, but the others were merely immobilized. They suffered broken wings, legs, and some were even trapped underneath rocks.
Aside from the screams of pain, they could hear the imps shouting and cursing one another fervently.
“Not again!”
“I am so damn tired of this floor!”
Manifest Page 38
