by G. Akella
Another hidden quest—why was I not surprised? Until this nonsensical prophecy and the Great Essences around it were done with, I would only know peace in my dreams. Vaedarr was next. I was headed there anyway—to destroy Urgam, the bastard who had tortured my wife. I had no doubt about his identity anymore. That kid Rynec had perished, and I wasn't going to judge him for what he did. How would I have acted in his shoes? Actually, I'd already been in his shoes, quite literally... And never in my life had I experienced such despair, such sadness.
My hatred for Cheney was of a different kind. I was confident that someday I would plunge Ruination to its hilt into his disgusting face. However arrogant that may sound, I believe you shouldn't ever make a move unless you're one hundred percent sure of success. Sure, you might fail or even die in the attempt, but no life could really be lived without faith in yourself. Without relying on your ability to do what you intended. Without knowing you will never back down! We who came into this world had a clear advantage over its natives. We saw no boundaries. Gods and nobles did not cause us to quiver in trepidation. Many of us would fall aside along the way, yes. But some of us would make it. We were exceptional—we had been taught that all of our lives. But the youth from my vision didn't have that confidence... Still, he had completed my teacher's quest. Ahn Kulad was destroyed and Hel was, by all appearances, dead. But what had happened after, nobody knew. Nobody except me. The prophecy drew me, like an invisible puppet master, to face the servants of the Twice Cursed God time and again. What if I just left all this behind and traveled to some place on the northern coast of Erantia? Would the prophecy follow me and send some Twice Cursed Fish my way? What would happen to the whole quest? The search for the seal was only the first quest in the chain. Logically, that meant those dark gates needed to be opened in order to protect the City of Seven Winds. But how would that protect it? Would something within serve to defend Vaedarr from the undead threat? Or had Teiran gotten in there without a key—probably with some cheat Cheney and his goons had provided—and was now using the magic of the tomb of this mysterious Arkam to gather an invasion army? No matter. We would handle the truth, whatever it was. I had to find the seal and get those gates open, and the others could sort out their own problems. I supposed that Vaedarr had enough NPCs who could defend their territory well enough to cut off the heads of the Twice Cursed God's army. Meaning I didn't have to bother with it, at least for now. I would find the key, get to Vaedarr, and figure out my next steps.
There. I had a little more clarity now, and that made things easier. My head was still pounding, but I felt stronger now. There was no point sitting around.
"More than twelve hours, you say?"
I got up, trying not to wince from the pain, and smiled at the party gathered around me. "Come on, let's get some air. I have a very interesting story to tell you."
"Everything is-s-s great, yes-s-s." Reece hissed, making no effort to disguise his sarcasm. "Auntie s-s-summoned some zombies-s-s back in Xantarra. They s-s-seemed fine. Compared to you, that is-s, dar."
"Come on," I waved towards the stairs. I had a word for Reece, though.
"You... quit changing form like that. Understand?"
"Daddy's a strict one! But fair." He changed back to his normal form and ran past the dragons to reach the stairs first.
I sighed. "We all have to listen to your chatter all day anyway. That's enough of a struggle without all the hissing."
"...and he has no sense of humor!" Reece appended, without turning to face me. "Then again, nobody here has a sense of humor. Except the dragons. Maybe."
"Krian," the necromancer's daughter said with a nod at a corpse near the stairs. "We should take him upstairs. This is the tomb of the human king, after all, and I doubt the goddess will mind if we bury her scout."
"I'll take care of it, my lady." Obviously tired of being in the tomb, Kan scooped up the body as he followed Reece out.
"Vaessa," I said as I watched them go. "Tell me, do bonehounds feel any attachment to the necromancer that summons them?"
"You know that we give them a part of our very selves, dar," she said with a shrug, eyes on the listening dragons. "Each time, we know exactly how much of ourselves we want to put into them. We decide. I placed nearly half of my own self into these two, by the way." Vaessa smiled, gently running her hand along Lola's face. "That's much more than I needed to, but they're... they're alive, dar. And I will recover what I gave them, someday."
"Wait. So if that necromancer dies..."
"The hound won't disintegrate," said the demoness, finishing my thought for me. "It'll remain in the world, forever seeking vengeance on the necromancer's killers. It'll continue to live, but what will ultimately become of it, even the gods don't know that."
"Got it. Thank you. Wait, one last thing, Vaessa. These runes..." I nodded at one of the columns.
"Worthless." She shrugged again. "Only seventeen of the forty are still active. It's the ancient alphabet of a god that perished a long time ago. The god who granted people wisdom before the time of Myrt."
"You mean Arkam?" asked Raena.
Unlike the others, the sorceress was in no rush to leave the place of burial. She examined the pattern on the walls and would probably stay here for a whole day if she could. Had the twelve hours I spent lying here unconscious not been enough?
"Yes," I answered for the magus. "Look at them closely, ladies, and remember them. I don't think we can get out of having to visit the tomb of this Arkam fellow, and these dead runes might come in handy on location. Stop!" I raised a hand to stop the flood of inquisition that would follow. "I'll explain when we're out of here. I'm going up for a smoke. Had enough of this tomb..."
The sun was a dirty yellow, almost brown. It clung to the tops of the stumpy trees around the ruins. The walls had turned to black and collapsed in places. Piles of rocks covered with a dense carpet of green-brown moss. Broken, rusted metal where the gates once stood. Fifteen hundred years is a long time, and whatever the army of the Twice Cursed God's companion had not destroyed, nature was slowly finishing off.
We had arrived at this ruin of the undead Ahn Kulad just five minutes ago. Last evening I had told the guys about my vision and given orders to break camp and rest. There was no point to wandering around in the dark. Now I stood looking at that strange rippling iridescent entrance to the instance. The ruins were of the university of dark magic and necromancy, and I badly hoped that the portal would take us to that Hart-cursed Hall of the Ancient Kings. Straight to it. Not to another stepping stone, some Great Swamp teeming with frogs and reeds. A level 250 dungeon designed for a group of twenty raiders shouldn't cause us too much trouble, but it would be foolish to let our guard down. Who knew what was there waiting for us?
"Tell me, commander, why can't some of these dungeons be elven brothels? We could sure use that," said Reece thoughtfully, looking at the half-collapsed gate. "Auntie likes this place. Friends of hers everywhere. But I'd rather—"
"Since when did elves become your thing?" Raena said with a sniff, sizing him up with a smirk.
"I've never seen them, is all," said the mage with a shrug. "But the commander said they were pretty much all arrogant, cold-hearted bitches. And I hope you've realized by now that that's just the type I like."
"Pipe down," I interjected, nipping the latest family quarrel in the bud. Turning to the knight-commander, I said: "You wanted to say something, Kan?"
"If this sizde.. siste... system of yours is right," he said, still unaccustomed to the word, "then Vaedarr is indeed in serious trouble. Much more than we thought. I stayed up all night thinking about it." He sighed and looked in my eyes. "What could be hiding in the tomb of this long-forgotten god? What can help us stop the undead army? Some mighty weapon? I have never seen a sword better than the one you have at your waist. Will it help you defeat the army advancing on the city?"
"You think that monster is gathering an army beyond those gates too, huh?"
"Worse. Much wors
e," the knight-commander said, shaking his head. "Stupidity is not a trait of any companions of the gods. The first and second legions of Prince Calle will hold out until the main forces arrive, keeping the undead in the catacombs, and Myrt and Liana will blast the Lord of Darkness into a fine dust layer miles wide. He is perfectly aware of this, believe me. So, the only explanation that makes sense is that a great war is coming. Erantia will be attacked from the outside. The borders of the Great Forest, the Kraet Peaks, and the Orcish Khanate are blocked off, so help will not be quick to arrive. And the Cursed God, according to you, is now stronger than ever." Kan looked guiltily at Vaessa and sighed. "History is repeating itself, my prince, but with us in that boy's place. Though, alas, cutting our throats won't be our way out."
"The goddess is giving no answer," said the necromancer's daughter. "I think there is a reason for all of this."
Maybe everything had already been decided in the Gray Frontier. The logic of the Great Essences was not much different from human logic, and a god sure of his power would start by destroying his enemies first and foremost. And when there was an entire world of his enemies out there, well... Hart, this is all so cliché! Since childhood I had loved fantasy books and films with their Saurons and their saviors of the world. I had even had a fight with my girlfriend, saying that the Master of Fantasy had simply lived in a different time, that Nazis had appeared in the world a hundred years back... and now history was repeating itself, in a sense. The developers had created Vill just as he was, and the villain surely didn't lack for cunning: as soon as he dealt with his enemies there, he would advance to the higher plane. Given the pressure the orcs and humans were under by the spawn from the Gray Frontier, whom I was sure he could gain control over, his first targets would be Erantia and the Khanate. And he didn't give a damn about all these prophecies! But then again, maybe this was all just part of that game Lilit had mentioned. How could I know? I had wanted to go to the Great Forest first, and then on to Erantia. But it seemed that my search for my sister would have to wait. She was with Max, and I would trust Max with my own life without hesitation. But would this information even help the humans? If one more companion of Vill's was destroyed, would that even help this shit situation? Or were Kan and me just paranoid? Anyway, I could navel-gaze all I wanted, but that wouldn't change anything. We had to go to Erantia's capital even if there was a slight chance we were right. I sighed and ambled towards the dungeon entrance.
"Whatever's out there, we don't have a choice," I said without turning. "Let's get out of here and go to Erantia to warn the humans."
Ruins of the University of Dark Magic and Necromancy. Up to level 250. Max party members: 20. Unique.
What the... I swore to myself. So that's why the dungeon entrance is orange. I hadn't noticed the word "unique" thanks to the font difference. We had only one chance to clear this one, and none of us wanted to think about what would happen to us if we died there. A unique location's increased drop rate and double experience were every player's dream, but I was getting tired of all these games. When we cleared this instance, it would disappear. The ruins would become just ruins, nothing more. And it was a matter of "when," not "if"...
"Well, shall we?" I waved the others to follow, and stepped first into the permeable orange membrane of the instance.
Ruins. As soon as I saw what was left of Ahn Kulad, the word flooded my mind. There wasn't a single standing building visible here, in the former domain of necromancy. They'd all crumbled. The cracked and melted stones were overgrown with weeds and nettles. Nearby, a fountain was half-torn out of the earth. Why had Teiran needed to level the place? Based on Rynec's recollections, the main building was once quite like the architecture of Westminster Abbey on the outside, though with a different size and shape. Of course any place of black magic higher learning needed to be in the Gothic style. That much had been ingrained into the populace, including the devs, by modern literature. Those pointed arches, columns, buttresses, archvaults, archbuttresses... I didn't really know much about Gothic architecture, and I didn't understand why vampires and necromancers were supposed to like it so much. It had religious roots. The undead should hate it! Actually, their hatred was what we were looking at. Only the bottom three floors of the southern wing remained of the whole main building. The upper parts of it were black, noticeably melted, and the roof had been demolished by some powerful spell. We needed to get in there, but we would never be able to get inside the vault. And that was a damn shame. My vision had revealed a sweet ring and equally sweet amulet in there, both of which Vaessa could surely use. Except shoveling aside hundreds of tons of smashed rocks was, even in this game world, hardly possible. And the artifacts could be gone by now. The defenders could have tried to use them to fight off the attack. Oh well. The Eye of Oblivion still had two full charges, so Vaessa could put up a portal to this place at any time. We'd deal with this prophecy and then come back for whatever archaeological purposes we wanted. Right now, we just had to finish this part of the quest.
I breathed in the bitter smell of the grass dominating the ruins, and looked at the first boss of this supremely strange dungeon. Level 210, with 280 million HP. Just like in the vision. Burning, crimson eyes, a huge chest, and the lean form of a great predator. To Rynec, this was the most beautiful creature in the world, and in some ways, I agreed, having spent too long in his skin, feeling his every thought and emotion. The hound was two hundred feet ahead of us, its head held high, proudly surveying the area. Upwards of fifty other hounds in the 200-210 level range surrounded it. Only they weren't hounds. I had seen these creatures before, in the west wing. These were stronger, about fifty percent larger and with three hundred thousand HP each. It didn't take an Albert Einstein in the party for us to realize that the boss would attack us as soon as we got within the aggro range of any of those long-dead mongrels.
The hound and her pack tightly guarded the way to the southern entrance, which lay only a few hundred feet from the square in front of the gates. Getting there would require traversing all the piles of stones, the remnants of university structures. Crossing them was possible, of course—by hugging the left wall—but that was a long shot. Stone staircases running up the wall were situated to either side of the gates, about fifty feet away. Or had once been situated, anyway. Now they were awkward protrusions, and each guarded by a pair of the undead mutts. And I would bet a hundred gold to a couple of coppers that they could detect invisibility. Which made sense—the dungeons weren't designed to encourage hapless wandering, but were more or less linear. Still, this whole situation seemed off somehow.
No other bosses were in sight. There were four groups of skeletal warriors with some blue zombies and a dozen reapings near the far wall. The big baddie was probably in the half-destroyed wing to the left, its entrance being a gaping black hole. Calling this thing a castle would a stretch. Save for the walls, there were no defensive structures. And even those looked like more like a decorative fence for the wandering undead. That made sense—why have towers and fortifications when the gods themselves couldn't find this place back in its day? And towers wouldn't have helped, anyway, with no one to man them. The university only had a couple hundred necromancers at its apex, most of them students.
"I don't know about you, auntie, but I wouldn't study at this school in a million years," said Reece with a chuckle.
Vaessa sighed. "When will you grow up?" She touched my wrist, nodded at the hound, and asked quietly:
"Is that her?"
When I nodded, the magus continued.
"We don't have to kill her, Krian. Right?"
"I agree, prince," said Raena, adding her voice in support of Vaessa's. "The disavowed is—"
"I don't want to kill her, either. Whatever Rynec was, he more than anyone deserves to have a piece of his soul remain here." I looked at the necromancer's daughter, then nodded at the bonehound.
"How long could you hold her for?"
"Two minutes," she replied without hesitation.
"Excellent. Here's what we'll do."
I pointed at the uprooted fountain.
"Reece and I will head up there. On my command, Vaessa will hold the boss, and I'll draw the other hounds. Reece," I turned to the mage. "You will stay right behind me. Once all of those undead beasts gather round, cast Ice Shackles and get to the main group, which will be right here. I'll use Earth Shackles, and you and Raena give it to the incapacitated mutts. Ten seconds should be plenty of time. Kan will provide backup. Once the adds are down, we head into the building." I gestured towards the dark entrance, where a pack of ten skeletons and zombies ambled about.
"Vaessa, while we're dealing with the dogs, send George and Lola over to take out those tourists. We'll all head inside, and Raena can bring the entryway down behind us. It's about to go to snot, anyway. The hound won't be able to get us then, unless she also has the gift of flight. We'll exit through a window if we have too. Once we clear this dungeon, the barriers will come down and the hound will be able to leave in peace."
"'Go to snot,'" Reece repeated, thoughtfully. "Interesting turn of phrase. Is it yours, or..."
I cut him off. "Save it for later. Get going on the sandwiches, buffs, alchemy, etc. We start in two minutes."
I patted the rascal on the shoulder and nodded towards the fountain.
"That means you, too, Mr. Philosopher. Here we go."
It was the west wing all over again. Half-rotted mobs with their burning blue eyes. I wonder what makes the colors of the undead's eyes differ? Always red, blue, or crimson. Why are they never violet? I would have to ask Vaessa later. I smiled as I checked the buffs on our group, switched to combat form, and stepped out, covered by my shield.
With a dull squelch, Stone Discs flew into the zombie flesh and a narrow black ribbon encircled the bonehound. At that instant, the university courtyard erupted into deafening noise. The monsters around the hound howled, the bone dragons roared—laying out the zombie hounds in their paths—and I shifted on my feet and activated Infernal Rage. With one shot of Tongue of Flame, I destroyed the first attacker. And now for Ruination. As a kid I dreamed of having a lightsaber, but lightsabers had nothing on this! The stench of burning dead flesh was everywhere. I stepped left as a corpse ran by me, and hit the next with an Ice Blade. Crit! A dog came at me from my right, only to be knocked down to the ground with my shield. The blow felt like little more than a parry in a game of ping-pong. One step back and my back was against a rock. Two of the beasts dug into my left leg then, but I couldn't shake them off without risk of getting swarmed. There were just too many dogs, and the noise was unbearable. Dastardly grinning faces drenched in slobber, pieces of bone sticking out of their dead flesh, and that stench... Thanks to my shield, I held my ground. It was a good thing the beasts could not all attack me at once.
