by Oliver Mayes
The stench was foul. Damien found himself wondering how the vampire could possibly hope to find anything through his own smell, but the thought was buried somewhere deep down beneath his horror.
Bartholomew seemed to consider for a moment. Then he released him.
“I do not smell the blood of occultists on you. Nor do I smell anything else for that matter, save for the three wretched beasts you slew in my unhallowed halls. This is well, for I can forgive such a minor transgression. Yet you brazenly claim to have fought my brethren before. Are you lying to me? Your life depends upon your answer.”
Damien re-evaluated his position. His primary goal was unchanged. While this was definitely an interesting interview, he needed to get out of here and get on with his real objective. That meant not being murdered by a wrathful vampire. Maybe it would be best to try and play along.
“You got me. I’ve never even seen a cultist, much less been attacked by one. Sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
Bartholomew narrowed his eyes. Then his open palm whacked into Damien’s shoulder.
“Good man!” he suddenly said, breaking into a toothy grin. “I’ve always thought being a liar was an indicator of strong character.”
Damien rubbed his sore shoulder, trying not to show his relief too openly. For a moment, he’d really thought he was dead. Bartholomew had hit him so hard in his enthusiasm it caused mild damage.
“Err... thanks, I guess. I’m sorry if—”
Bartholomew’s face loomed back in uncomfortably close and the stench filled Damien’s nostrils once more.
“Even so, your rudeness has sorely tried my patience. I shall ask you some questions. If you answer to my satisfaction, I shall let you live. If not, you might make a better snack than an occultist after all. Do you agree to the terms?”
Damien swallowed the hard ball that had formed in his throat. It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. If he got through this, he might still be able to leave. But something told him he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
“Of course.”
Bartholomew smiled again. Even when he’d been in a good mood, Damien found his smile difficult to look at. Now it oozed contempt and savagery. This was the real Bartholomew. Damien liked the previous version much better.
Bartholomew licked his lips. “Let’s say you were a budding hero, starting your career in the human capital city of Camelot. Just a short stroll from this very spot. Your first directives would be passed down directly from the highest echelons of society. What do you imagine these directives might entail?”
Damien was in way over his head. He could not leave too long a pause and clearly lying wasn’t going to serve him very well. It was clear what Bartholomew wanted him to say.
“I imagine it would involve killing cultists.”
Bartholomew raised a warning finger.
“Occultists! But otherwise, good. Yes. Cultist is the name given to us by ignorant fools who do not understand our art. We study the occult. We are occultists. Not cultists. But I’m sure that was merely a slip of the tongue. A slip of the tongue you have committed several times over the course of this conversation and which I generously chose to overlook. Nevertheless—”
Bartholomew waggled his warning finger teasingly.
“—that’s strike one. Question two: if you accepted these directives and went about your business for the glory of the Empire, setting out to slay occultists left, right and center, do you think it might occur to you to speak with your so-called enemies first? Or would you simply wade in and ritually slaughter them?”
Damien had never considered it that way. He’d only ever played after enrolling in the Empire faction, which had included a warning about ‘the cultist threat’ and an automatic decrease to his standing with ‘cultists’. Everything had seemed simple enough; accept quests, kill listed enemies, accept quest rewards, repeat. He’d never imagined Saga Online might offer a hidden path at such an early stage.
“I suppose there’s a good chance people would just follow their orders.”
Bartholomew crooned at him, nodding his head as he sarcastically implied Damien was telling him something he didn’t already know himself.
“Very good! I commend you for your honesty. However—”
The middle finger of Bartholomew’s hand leisurely raised itself up to join the index finger in Damien’s countdown to death.
“—I already told you I hold liars in higher regard. Your lack of imagination may yet prove to be your downfall. That’s strike two. Last question: let’s pretend you came to The Downward Spiral to meet with Aetherius, the widely celebrated occultist murderer.”
Damien’s eyes widened and Bartholomew caught it, his smile scything even further until it almost reached his ears.
“My dominion may not be what it once was, but I still know everything that transpires within it. It is no secret to me that you were invited here by the leader of Rising Tide, the abhorrent guild that struck me down less than a week ago.”
This was bad. Bartholomew was associating him with Rising Tide, Aetherius’s Empire-aligned guild. The most prolific occultist killers.
Damien took a step back and Bartholomew took one forward, keeping his face uncomfortably close to Damien’s own.
“Let’s skip the hypotheticals, shall we? Aetherius betrayed you, casting you down to your certain death. You survived against all odds and showed great determination, if not skill. I watched your progress, hoping to have found a valuable new ally, the first occultist to be recruited from among the heroes normally reserved for the Empire.”
The vampire stood back and tapped his chin, considering Damien one last time.
“I am offering you an opportunity to plot revenge against our common enemy. I shall make this offer once, and once only. If you refuse, my patience shall finally wear thin and I will redecorate my dungeon with your intestines. How will you proceed?”
Bartholomew raised a parchment up in front of Damien’s face and pressed a quill into his hand. A blue box appeared, just like the one he’d seen when signing up as a warrior back in the Empire’s encampment. He knew when he was beaten.
“Where do I sign?”
Bartholomew’s smile reached its zenith.
“Good boy. We’ll make an occultist out of you yet.”
8
Things Can Only Get Better
Damien squinted at the blue box intently. He wasn’t trying to delay his descent into occultism. He already knew it was inevitable.
He just couldn’t think of a name that wasn’t utterly terrible. He’d already given up on all the names involving Scorpius. They’d be no good to him as an occultist. But everything else he was trying had already been taken.
“Was I unclear about what I’d do with your intestines? I’m sure they’d make a lovely garland at the dungeon entrance. Did you know the human digestive tract is approximately thirty feet long? I could drape it all the way from one side of the opening to the other! Why don’t we try it now?”
Ignoring the goading vampire, Damien continued to rack his brain for alternatives. His name was important if he was going to stand out in the Streamer Competition. He could live with it having his year of birth or even being stylized slightly, but every name that was even vaguely presentable and relevant to him was long gone. He tried to calm himself down and focus. There should be a variation of his name that would work for his current situation.
Something collided with his shin and Damien glanced down. It took him right back to his first time fighting occultists. The imp had returned from the darkness and was kicking him repeatedly. Its four-fingered hands pivoted to maintain balance as it struck over and over again, gleefully cackling the whole while.
Damien followed the pattern and moved his leg at the last second. The imp had been going for a particularly vicious kick, so its leg sailed into the empty air before it landed on its back with a thud. It immediately leapt up and started screaming at him in daemonic tongues, which would have
been terrifying if it wasn’t so high pitched and adorable. It balled a fist at him, shaking it angrily as it continued its tirade. Watching it gave Damien an idea.
He’d had what could only be described as an epiphany. A name that made sense, sounded cool and wouldn’t make him look like one of his own fanboys.
He entered: ‘Daemien.’
A little green tick appeared next to the box and Damien slammed the quill down on the enter key, terrified that someone else would register the name first or the game would realize it had made a mistake. The blue box faded away with the name ‘Daemien’ still sitting inside it.
Damien forgot where he stood, throwing the quill into the air. He dropped to his knees and pumped his fists above his head, roaring so loudly in triumph that the imp stopped screaming with a strangled yelp and leapt out of his reach.
“Congratulations,” Bartholomew sneered, his hand snapping upwards to catch the quill without looking away. “You remembered how to write your own name. I’m beginning to have second thoughts about this arrangement.”
Still, the vampire nodded in approval and regarded his new recruit down the place where his nose should have been.
Damien quickly stood back up, handing back the parchment and dusting off his knees.
“Sorry. I fell a long way to get here. Must have banged my head.”
Bartholomew nodded, the quill and parchment vanishing into his cloak.
“Mmm. Quite. Well, that won’t be the only head trauma you’ll suffer today, I’m afraid. Now that you’re officially an occultist, Daemien, I have some knowledge to pass on to you.”
Bartholomew placed his open palm on Damien’s forehead. Damien didn’t move, but that first comment had been more than a little foreboding.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Ahem. What are you doing, master?”
“I asked you first.”
Bartholomew’s claws dug in, but he smirked and continued speaking evenly.
“I’m imbuing you with some basic abilities available to occultists. Your mind is not yet mature enough to deal with the more complex spells and incantations, as you have just made abundantly clear with your impudence. Hold still.”
Bartholomew’s palm became hot where the skin made contact and pop-ups started appearing in Damien’s HUD one after the other.
Class Unlocked: Occultist
Skill Tree Unlocked: Maleficium
Skill Tree Unlocked: Demonology
Chaotic Bolt Unlocked!
Corruption Unlocked!
Summon Imp Unlocked!
Class Trait Unlocked: Soul Harvest
Class Augmentation: Sneak upgraded to Shadow Walker
As the ‘Shadow Walker’ notification snapped into place, Damien’s vision flashed a brilliant white. He closed his eyes against it, making no difference whatsoever. It was so bright it felt as though he must be emitting high-powered beams through his eyelids. Before he could open his mouth to complain, the feeling passed.
He scrunched his eyes open and shut a few times. He’d expected the light to make his vision even worse, so he was surprised to discover he could see clearly. Bartholomew floated in front of him, his form slightly translucent due to his innate stealth. Damien could see all the way through him to the back wall.
“What the hell was that?”
Bartholomew removed his hand from Damien’s head. The heat immediately subsided, but Damien hardly noticed. He was too busy scanning the notifications, trying to get a sense of his new-found abilities. As much as Bartholomew insisted that occultists weren’t necessarily evil, he could see why their assorted skills might raise an eyebrow or two. They all sounded more than a little malevolent. Damien’s new master flashed his fangs.
“Night vision. Just one of the many gifts I grant my followers.”
Damien had to admit that was a pretty useful perk of being an occultist. Then he ran his eyes back over the list and found a more urgent notification at the end that had been obscured by the flash of light. It didn’t seem like much of a ‘gift’.
Class Trait Unlocked: Enemy of the Realm
Reputation Status with Empire has been reduced to ‘Loathed’
‘Caution! Empire-aligned NPCs will now attack you on sight. Empire-aligned traders and shop owners will no longer do business with you. You will be denied entry to Empire settlements and outposts. Complete tasks that benefit the Empire or defeat enemies of the Empire to increase your faction status.’
A new resource counter had popped up on his HUD as well. It was a translucent teardrop, but the top had the shape of flames. 0/5 sat in the center of it. He assumed it was something to do with the unique trait, Soul Harvest.
Bartholomew stood by silently, reluctantly waiting for him to settle. Damien caught his eye and closed the notifications. He could inspect them later.
“Wow, I’ve got a lot to learn. OK. So, what’s next?”
Bartholomew grabbed him by the shoulder.
“I see you are eager. Excellent. After everything else you have been subjected to today, I think it’s time to let you flex your new-found power a little. I have some ideas in mind.”
A yellow exclamation mark appeared above Bartholomew’s head. Damien was going on his first quest!
“OK, lay it on me. What are you thinking of?”
“There is a task that requires my attention…but quite frankly, it’s too boring for me to demean myself with. There are a number of vermin who have seen fit to make this dungeon their home. Unsightly, overgrown rodents such as those you dispatched upon your arrival here. I would have you scour my dungeon and root them out.”
A quest notification appeared in Damien’s vision. It was entitled ‘Infestation in the Occultist Nation’. The objective appeared next to it – ‘Kill ten (0/10) lesser vermin inhabiting The Downward Spiral.’
“Ok. Got it. Anything else, master?”
Bartholomew nodded, either not noticing or totally ignoring the sarcasm. “I am going to lend you a modest backpack.”
His hand disappeared into his robes and returned holding a ragged sackcloth bag with some straps affixed to it. Damien gratefully accepted it before swinging it around his arms. Without an inventory, managing items was almost impossible.
“Thanks. I really needed that.”
Bartholomew shrugged.
“It’s a poor receptacle. I can provide far better with the correct materials. Go and fetch me five rat furs. I shall use them to construct you a bag you can use on a more permanent basis.”
A second quest notification appeared in Damien’s display.
‘Fur is all the Rage – Bring Bartholomew five (0/5) rat furs.’
“Finally, I wish to see if you are able to use the abilities I have granted you. Become well versed in them before you return. If you can do so, I will recognize your aptitude.”
‘You Want Skills? I’ll Show You Skills! – Use all new abilities once.’
Damien looked them over. He could do all three quests simultaneously. This would be ideal to get some quick leveling done.
“Oh! And this special minion is now your own. Do not let Noigel’s appearance deceive you. He is more useful than he seems.”
The imp Bartholomew had summoned during his explanation of occultists, which now seemed like so long ago, came and stood by Damien’s side. A new miniaturized health bar appeared near Damien’s own along with a final notification.
Special Summon – ‘Noigel’ Unlocked!
The name had sounded exotic when Bartholomew said it, but written down it appeared to be a corruption of ‘Nigel’. Not a name that screamed damnation.
“What kind of a name is that for an imp?”
Bartholomew smirked but did not offer a direct reply.
“I feel that is more than enough for you to be getting on with. Do not worry about finding me. I shall find you. Good hunting!”
The vampire pulled the cloak over his head and abruptly vanished from view. Damien wasted no time in opening his Stat page.
Account Name: Damien Arkwright
Character: Daemien
Class: Occultist
Level: 2
Health: 110/110
Stamina: 110/110
Mana: 110/110
Stats:
Strength 11 - Agility 11 - Intelligence 11
Constitution 11 - Endurance 11 - Wisdom 11
Stat points: 5
Experience: 26/750
Soul Summon Limit: 1/3 - Soul Reserve: 0/5
Damien smiled. Seeing his name listed made it all the more real. It finally felt like he was getting somewhere. Maybe this occultist thing wouldn’t be so bad. It was interesting to him; maybe it would be interesting to others as well.
Anything to pick up some extra votes would be essential. It sure beat running around with a bunch of players who had the same name and class as him, anyway. He closed the Stat page and navigated to his Skills tab.
Maleficium
Chaotic Bolt: Mana: 30 Damage: 15+(Int x 0.2) – You channel a pulse of rift energy in your closed hand. After 3 seconds the energy can be launched, dealing damage to the first thing it hits. After 5 seconds of holding the prepared spell the rift energy explodes, regardless of its current location. At higher intelligence thresholds this ability can be upgraded, dealing more damage but costing more mana.
Corruption: Mana: 20 Damage: 2 + (Int x 0.1) per second – With a directed thought and a flick of the wrist, a target within 30 yards is afflicted with black flames that cannot be extinguished by conventional means, dealing damage over 15 seconds. At higher intelligence thresholds this ability can be upgraded, dealing more damage but costing more mana.
Demonology
Summon Imp: Mana: 100, Souls: 1 – You point at the ground, searing it with runes to open a portal to the demon world. After channeling for 10 seconds, the portal is opened and an imp arrives on the mortal plane. The imp will serve you until it dies or is dismissed. Imp stats improve every five levels.
