by Adam Drake
Thorm peered at the man's flesh, but shook his head. “No. That's not a disease.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the man looked up at us. His face was worse than the rest of him, almost blackened with the strange veins.
“He's here,” the man said, tears streaming down his face. “He's here and there will be no sending him back now!”
“Who is here?” I asked. Mudhoof and the others had tensed for a fight, watching our surroundings.
“The one who is all!” The little man said, working himself up into a frenzy. “The one who will rule!” He began to shake.
“This guy's a nut,” said Mudhoof. “Let's just kill him and loot his corpse.”
I ignored my bloodthirsty friend and tried to calm the little man down by trying a different approach. “I'm Vivian, these are my friends. What's your name?”
The little man's eyes locked onto me, as if noticing my existence for the first time. “Why, I'm the mayor of Ashbrook. The place he has chosen to begin his empire!”
The mayor of Ashbrook then stood and shook his fists in front of him. “Death to the despoilers! Death to the craven worms who do not worship the One!”
Thorm stepped forward gripping his great broadsword with both hands. He mumbled a quick chant and the mayor abruptly stopped shaking, but his eyes were still wide with whatever mania afflicted him.
“I don't believe this soothing enchantment will hold for very long,” Thorm said, eying the mayor warily. “But you may get a more coherent answer from him, now.”
“He's not diseased?”
Thorm shook his head. “No, he's cursed, and in a bad way.”
I said to the mayor, “We would like to help. Where can we find this 'One' you are talking about? Did he hurt you?”
At the mention of the 'One' the mayor's fists resumed shaking, and he took a step closer to me. “Do not think you can defile him with your blather!” He screamed. “He shall grant you the gift of death for your insolence!”
“What a charming conversationalist,” said Feign, and a large snowball appeared in his hand. “Best get ready, I think this one is going to blow up at any moment.”
The mage was right. The little mayor suddenly grunted and his body twisted about. We all eased back, weapons at the ready.
The black veins in his flesh now ballooned outward, expanding against his skin. The mayor let out a blood-curdling cry as his torso and arms tore open his shirt and jacket. His shoes popped and his feet extended out.
In moments, his entire body had mutated into a blacked, bulbous contortion.
His eyes, one now freakishly larger than the other, looked to us. When he spoke, it was not with his own voice.
“Fools,” the mayor rumbled down at us. He was getting taller now. “To think I allowed you to infect this realm in my absence. Such a mistake will not happen again.” The trees near him shook with the power of his voice and leaves cascaded down like rain. “I will smite you and all others into the Demon Void were your carcasses will fuel the fiery pits of agony.”
Mudhoof laughed. “Laying it on a little thick, aren't you, buddy?” He hefted his uber ax over his shoulder. “I'm not into role-playing, just killing.”
The mutant mayor roared at Mudhoof, “You bovine scum! I shall make steaks from your seared flesh and...”
“That's it!” Mudhoof said and swung his ax straight down into the ground before him. The ground cracked open at the impact and the crack grew out toward the mayor.
In an instant, the crack reached the mayor but not before he punched downward with a huge misshaped fist. A loud boom rumbled, and the world shook. The crevice had stopped expanding and the mutant mayor sneered at Mudhoof.
Mudhoof blinked in surprise. “Oh, wow. That should have knocked him over.”
Feign threw his snowball which struck the mayor and ice quickly formed around his feet. It grew up his legs, crackling loudly, and in a few moments the mutant was encased in ice up to his waist.
The mayor twisted his torso and opened his mouth wide. A thick geyser of blackened vomit shot out like water from a fire hose, straight at Feign.
The ice mage gasped and raised his arms in surprise.
Then, Thorm was standing before the mage a magical barrier forming around them both. The black fluid splashed off the barrier and hissed and bubbled as it slid off.
I stood wide eyed in shock. Things had escalated quickly, and I needed to join the fray. To Mudhoof, I shouted, “Get his attention! Distract him!”
Mudhoof gave me a fearful look. “What? And have him barf all over me with that stuff?” But he was already moving away from me and shouting. “Hey, over here, you puss-bag!”
The mayor reared around, the ice on his legs shattering. He roared at Mudhoof.
Certain it was not looking at me, I stepped back under the shade of the trees and activated my Shadow ability. I shimmered into invisibility.
Quickly, I skirted the edge of the clearing to get behind the mutant mayor.
“I shall pick my teeth with your bones, cow-man,” the mayor shouted, then he inhaled his breath.
Mudhoof stopped moving, finding the air around him being pulled toward the mutant. “What the FILTERED?” He said in alarm. He dug his hooves into the ground, but he continued to be pulled back, forming little trenches beneath him.
The mayor inhaled faster and Mudhoof struggled to not lose his ground.
A glance at Feign and Thorm showed the barrier shielding them was still covered in the black acid. Thorm couldn't deactivate it without getting seriously injured or killed.
As I moved into position, I saw Phlixx race around firing tiny bolts with his little crossbow at the mayor. The mutant didn't even notice as the projectiles bounced harmlessly off him.
Mudhoof was now in full panic mode. The inhaling winds nearly tipping him backward. In desperation, he swung his great ax into the ground again, but this time without invoking its knock-back ability. Instead, it stuck deep into the earth.
Suddenly, Mudhoof lost his footing and his legs shot out from under him. He grasped at the ax's handle in desperation. The minotaur flailed about, the only thing keeping him from being sucked back was his grip on the ax.
“Vee!” Mudhoof cried.
I now stood directly behind the mayor and reached back to my empty quiver. With a single word an arrow appeared within it and I snatched the arrow out. Its feathers were bright red, and the tip glowed with a molten heat.
Mudhoof lost the grip of one hand, and he slid backward down the ax's handle. He was shouting incoherently.
I fired.
The magma arrow struck home, burying itself deep into the back of the mayor's misshaped head.
The mutant stopped inhaling and screamed with agony. Hot lava spewed from his mouth and out from his eyes and ears. Like a volcano, the lava gushed over him, melting him down in waves.
In moments, all that remained was a bubbling pool of molten rock.
I looked to Thorm and Feign. The black acid had vanished and the Holy Knight had dropped the barrier. Both looked at the mayor's lava pool in amazement.
Mudhoof lay on the ground looking bewildered, one hand still gripping his ax handle for dear life.
I ran over to him. “Are you okay, Muddie?”
The minotaur looked up at me, wide eyed, and said, “This quest sucks.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“That was intense,” said Thorm. He held a hand over a dark blemish on the armor of one arm where the black vomit had touched it. The armor glowed, and the blemish vanished.
“Thank you for your quick reaction,” said Feign to Thorm. “I shudder to think what the result would have been.”
“Not good,” I said and satisfied they were okay, walked over to Mudhoof who stood next to the molten mound that had been the mayor. The lava had hardened, but was still lethally hot.
Mudhoof said, “If this mayor idiot was our first fight, what are the rest going to be like?” It was strange to hear doubt coming from him.
We'd adventured together many times, and he'd never expressed this much concern over a quest.
“I don't know,” I said, shrugging and watched the molten mayor puddle cool. “Probably worse, would be my guess. Quests usually get progressively difficult the further along you go. I'm under the impression we have our work cut out for us today.”
“That voice he used,” Feign said. “Someone was speaking through him. Taunting us. The final boss, perhaps?” Nearly every big quest had a final bad guy to fight to gain access to the quest's greatest loot.
“Guy had it out for us, that's for sure,” said Mudhoof. He hefted his great ax onto one shoulder. “Nice play with that arrow, Vee. We could have wiped right here. Just as we were starting. We would have been the laughingstock of the whole game. Not something I would have enjoyed.”
I patted the minotaur on the elbow, the highest spot I could reach. “The game caught us with our guard down, so to speak. But now we're armed with the special knowledge we didn't have before.”
“What's that?” Mudhoof said.
“That we need to treat every encounter as a possible wipe scenario. No getting lazy, or expecting an easy ride.”
Thorm and Feign came to stand next to the rocky puddle. Phlixx threw pebbles into it and giggled at the hissing noise they made.
“He didn't drop any loot,” Mudhoof said. “I figure after all that we deserve something more than this puddle of crud.”
“It hasn't cooled enough, yet.” To Feign I asked, “Perhaps you can speed things up a little?”
The ice mage gave a small bow. “Of course. Allow me.” He leaned forward and blew out as if at a candle. A cold gust of icy air enveloped the hot rock. It crackled loudly, then turned from a hot red to black.
“That should do it,” Feign said.
Phlixx tossed another pebble and when it landed, the mass of black rock shattered and crumbled to dust. Soon it all faded away.
“Okay,” Mudhoof said. “Where to next? The town? He was the mayor so that makes sense.”
Stating the obvious was Mudhoof's way of dealing with his anger, so I didn't poke fun at him. At least not right now. “That sounds like a plan. We'll go see what the mayor was ranting and raving about.”
We continued down the trail, but now more on edge than ever. This game had proven it would throw in fatal encounters from the get-go and we needed to respect that. I kept Phlixx on snoop mode while Thorm had cast an aura of alertness over the entire group. That should boost our perception and limit any potential of a surprise.
Soon we reached a fork in the trail. A crooked sign pointing north said, 'Old Mine', while another said 'Ashbrook', pointing west.
“Should we take a vote?” I asked the group. It was common etiquette to ask for other members opinions when faced with a decision to make.
Mudhoof shrugged. “It's your show, Vee. I'll follow you whichever direction you take us.”
“Yes, I believe you are our de facto leader,” Feign said with a smile. “It is your quest after all.”
“Lead the way, m'lady,” said Thorm.
Phlixx crossed his arms and sneered at the men. “That's right. You know who the boss is here.”
I laughed. “Okay, fine. Be that way,” I said and looked at the signs. “The mayor screamed about Ashbrook so we'll check that out first. But I think we'll find ourselves in the Old Mine soon enough.”
We headed west.
The trail became a simple cobblestone road, but we didn't see any other travelers along the way. Mudhoof took this to be a bad sign stating the game was bottling up everything in one place. I begrudged him the point.
The strange black tower became more clear as we got closer yet just as confusing to look at. Was it an actual tower with beings inside or was something more sinister at work? Feign thought we'd probably end up there if we survived the journey.
The road turned out of the forest and we emerged right on the edge of Ashbrook. It looked like every typical medieval fantasy community the game likes to create. Stone-brick buildings wedged up against each other and crowding over a narrow road.
We paused, taking in the new environment.
“No one is around to welcome us,” Mudhoof said. “There's always a greeter of some type or other. If not to give you a quest then to annoy you with a history of the place.”
It was also silent. No crowd noises or wagons rolling over stone or hawkers trying to sell their wares. Nothing.
On a hunch I checked my quest tracker which logged our progress.
'After your encounter with the mayor you decide to investigate Ashbrook and what befell its inhabitants.'
I read this to the others.
“Simple enough,” said Thorm. “But I'm not taking any chances. Keep your eyes peeled.” He insisted on leading the way.
As we entered the town-proper the shadows of the buildings fell over us and I felt a chill. Normally, I welcomed the presence of shadows, but this was off. Something was very wrong.
Each building we passed appeared empty, even the shops.
“Maybe we should break in to some of these places and loot them,” suggested Mudhoof.
“And how would that be helping the residents of the town?” I countered.
Mudhoof shrugged. “I should have rolled a thief. They get all the fun.”
The further along the street we went the colder it got. Again, I resorted to adjusting my simulation suit's temperature controls.
Mudhoof shivered. “I'm freezing off my bull-bits. Someone turn up the heat.”
I said to Feign, “You must be enjoying this.”
The ice mage shrugged. “Now you know what it's like to be me all the time. Still, this drop in temperature is an indication of bad magic. Demon magic, possibly.”
This made us even more wary.
We passed by side streets and when I looked down them it was more of the same. Nothing. No people, no activity.
“I think we're coming up on the town square,” Thorm said.
Suddenly, above us someone hissed. “What are you doing? Don't go there!”
Everyone whirled around, ready for an attack.
A man peeked out from a second-story window. He wore a deep blue robe and was as bald as an egg. A bright white crystal hung from a necklace around his neck. Sweat glistened against his pink skin. “You don't want to go to the square. It's too dangerous.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I'm Perrin, the town scribe,” the bald man said. His eyes darted about nervously. “But that doesn't matter. You need to get off the street. Now!”
I glanced at the others.
Thorm shrugged. “He might have information we can use. Let's pay him a visit.”
To Perrin I said, “We're coming in to talk. Don't worry we're friendly.”
“Friendly right up until he mutates into an acid spewing monster,” Mudhoof said as we filed through the building's only door.
The inside was as quaint as the exterior. Simple furniture and knickknacks. Everything had the look of being hand crafted.
A stairwell led up and Perrin appeared at the top. He regarded us with obvious nervousness.
“What business do you have being here?” He asked, giving Mudhoof furtive glances. Probably had never seen a minotaur before.
“We're, uh, adventurers looking to help out,” I said. That was true enough. I could have told him we were human players logged into a game where he wasn't even real. But where was the fun in that?
Perrin mulled this over. “Well, if you think you can help, it would be most welcome, but I don't know what good it would do.”
“What happened here?” Thorm asked.
“It all started with when that black tower appeared. It grew right out of the ground at the end of the valley. Then people started acting strangely. Getting angry. Fighting. But it got worse. Much worse. Everyone began to develop black veins in their skin.”
“Everyone?” I asked and shot Mudhoof a meaningful glance. The minotaur frowned with c
oncern.
“Yes. Everyone except me. I don't know why. So I hid in the cellar here for several days, thinking it would all clear up on its own.” He chuckled nervously. “Foolish, I know, but where else was I to go? I only emerged this morning to see what had happened. Empty streets. No people. Then a few hours ago I heard the most horrid screams and shouts coming from the town square.”
“What happened there?”
