by Oliver Mayes
‘Slither a Mile in My…Shoes? – Kill five enemies while in possession of a wraith.’
“And since you need to test the wraith in a dark place, you’re going to take the opportunity to build your own lair.”
‘Home is Where the Sacrificial Organ is – Establish an occultist base in a secret, preferably cave-like location.’
“Off you go. By the time you return I’ll have finished your bag.”
Bartholomew did not fade away into the shadows as he had done before, but he removed his attention from Damien completely and buried himself in his knitting. He had found a couple of spare buttons and was giving them a new purpose as rat eyes for Damien’s plushie bag. Damien set aside his complaints about the extremely cute yet disturbing item and focused on the serious issue.
“You want me to build a base…somewhere?”
Bartholomew did not raise his head. He seemed to be trying very hard to ignore Damien completely.
“Yes. Very important. You’re an occultist now! You have to learn to make sacrifices, literally and metaphorically, and the first sacrifice you’re going to make is moving out of here and finding your own place to live.”
Damien hadn’t built a base when he’d been playing Scorpius. He’d never received a quest instructing him to do so and had more than enough to keep him occupied without it.
Even so, from what he’d seen on Saga Online’s various streaming channels, he was pretty sure most players didn’t build their bases in dank caves. They set them up in occupied towns to integrate themselves with society, offering a variety of services ranging from blacksmithing to enchanting to practice their skills, improve their stats and make extra gold. It appeared occultists were not quite so sociable.
“I’ve only just started playing—I mean, learning how to be an occultist. You can’t kick me out into the world yet!”
Bartholomew stopped knitting and the rat furs fell to the floor in a heap. Bartholomew pointed at him with a slender finger, punctuating the most important words by jabbing the finger into Damien’s stomach.
“I am not kicking you out. I am guiding you on your journey of happiness, self-improvement and, ideally, revenge. Establishing your own domain is crucial to this process. Also, you’re smelly and stupid and having you here is an affront to my senses. Begone! And return when you have completed the tasks I’ve assigned you!”
Bartholomew raised his hands and the furs levitated themselves back off the floor into their flight formation. The knitting resumed at pace. Damien wasn’t too happy, but he decided he was going to milk Bartholomew for information before he committed to a course of action.
“What do I need to build a base?”
“Build? You don’t build anything, boy! Just find a place you like and call it home. When you’ve done that, you can come back and I’ll have actual construction tasks for you.”
Now Damien was annoyed. This was a waste of time he couldn’t afford. When he’d played as Scorpius, he set an inn as his home base and could quickly find his class trainer and gather as many quests as he wanted from people in town. What Bartholomew was proposing was totally unacceptable.
Damien would have a home base in the middle of a cave somewhere, totally removed from anything useful. Then, just for the privilege of talking to his class trainer and primary quest giver, he’d have to come back to The Downward Spiral. All the way down the steps. Then all the way back up again. Every single time he needed something from Bartholomew.
Damien wasn’t having it.
Bartholomew had made it obvious that Damien wasn’t welcome, but he’d fallen just short of telling him not to build his base here directly. Damien looked at a section of The Downward Spiral and defiantly thought ‘home’. A patch of ground up against the wall flashed green and a much larger red circle highlighted an area around it, stretching to cover almost the entire dungeon floor. A notification showed up underneath Bartholomew’s quest.
‘Congratulations! You have chosen a home base. In order to start building you will either need to clear the surrounding area of hostile forces or, if they are capable of diplomacy, come to an agreement with them.’
There was a clatter and a thud as Bartholomew’s concentration lapsed. The materials for Damien’s bag fell to the floor again, forgotten. Damien turned and found Bartholomew looking decidedly hostile: his arms were at his sides and his fingers were curling hypnotically, closing then opening again. He was aware Damien had claimed a chunk of his territory.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m working on my assignment. I’ve selected an area, in a secret, dark, cave-like location to turn into my base. Just as you instructed. Next, I’ll negotiate with the current resident so he’ll allow me to build here. That’s you, right? So this should be easy!”
Damien’s world blurred. He had the briefest impression he was spinning before his back ended up against the wall. Bartholomew was holding him there by the scruff of his shirt.
“Don’t be snide. I made it perfectly clear I don’t want you here. What inspired you to go against my wishes?”
Damien’s hands were clasped around Bartholomew’s arm, but they weren’t capable of doing anything. Bartholomew had the situation firmly under control. Even so, Damien could see his gamble was on the verge of paying off; despite the speed and strength used to move him so quickly, Bartholomew had dealt no damage. Even the way he was holding him – by his rags rather than his throat – showed that Bartholomew didn’t want to risk injuring him. He was just trying to scare him.
It was just as well they weren’t technically in combat, since the imps had gathered behind Bartholomew and were hesitating. Even Noigel wasn’t sure what to do. Damien shook his head at them in case they got any ideas and tapped Bartholomew on the arm.
“I’ll tell you why I want to build my base here, and if you don’t agree, I’ll leave.”
Bartholomew lowered him down, scraping Damien’s back on the wall as he did so, before dropping him. Damien landed on his feet, once again defying Bartholomew’s intent. The vampire grumbled and stuck his hand on Damien’s shoulder, pressing down until he was on his knees.
“I am the leader of a group that once pitted itself against the entire Empire. I have subjugated scores of powerful demons, laid waste to hundreds of settlements and cultivated the loyalty of thousands of subjects before the Empire even existed. I do not share living space. If you still wish to waste your words, by all means go ahead.”
Bartholomew removed his hand and leered down at him, but Damien knew for all Bartholomew’s power he had something to lose. His speech, designed to intimidate, only revealed how badly he longed for his former glory.
Damien rested his hands in his lap but did not stand up. That would’ve been a step too far. What he did do was stare Bartholomew directly in the eye.
“Ever since I got here, you’ve done nothing but talk about how great and powerful you are. And you are! Great and powerful, I mean. But if I’m to believe what you just told me, you’re nothing compared to what you used to be.”
Bartholomew’s eye twitched and he brought his face in very close.
“This is not going well for you so far.”
“Then it’s not going well for either of us,” Damien snapped back. “If you force me to leave, you’re not just making my life difficult, you’re risking the most valuable thing you have. Me.”
Bartholomew’s head recoiled as if Damien had swatted him in the face. Then he howled with laughter. It was even more sinister than Damien had anticipated, a booming, echoing cackle, fading into a rasp that lingered in the mind long after it had actually expired. Bartholomew had clearly mastered the evil laugh during his reign. Damien patiently waited without looking away. His apathy only annoyed Bartholomew even more.
“And what makes you so certain you have any value to me at all?”
“Aside from me, how many ‘aspiring heroes’ have come down here and signed up to be occultists?”
Any trace of
amusement disappeared from what was left of Bartholomew’s features.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I was at the Empire’s recruitment area this morning. Don’t give me that look!” The mock horror on Bartholomew’s face was immediately replaced with a sour pout. “You knew damn well where I came from when you blackmailed me into becoming an occultist. But did you know how many warriors joined the Empire’s ranks today? Nearly three hundred. That was just this morning. It’s probably more by now. And that’s just the warriors! How many new soldiers of the Empire will be recruited by the end of the day? A thousand? More?”
Bartholomew’s nasal cavity flared.
“I don’t see what the Empire’s lackadaisical recruitment tactics—”
Now it was Damien’s turn to laugh. It may have lacked Bartholomew’s timbre, but it got his sentiment across.
“You want me to find a spot in another location? What if even a fraction of those new recruits wander into the area where I set up my base? I’ll die, that’s what. I don’t see how that helps either of us. So, you can wallow here by yourself and wait for someone else to land on a rat while I get ganked outside, or you can offer me protection until I take revenge on Aetherius.”
Bartholomew drew a finger across his distended lips. He was considering the proposal but still didn’t seem to like it very much. Damien gave him one last push.
“Imagine how famous you’ll be when one of your disciples kills such a well-known hero of the Empire. You’ll have people fighting each other to become occultists!”
This did provoke a response. Bartholomew’s eyes gleamed before they fell upon Damien and narrowed once more. Despite all the correct boxes being ticked, he wasn’t going to let Damien have what he wanted that easily.
“Your enthusiasm is undeniable. But you’re a weakling. Aetherius is one of the strongest heroes in Arcadia. How long do you suppose it will take to exact your vengeance? What if you fail? I will not allow you to stay here indefinitely.”
Damien thought quickly. The Streamer Competition was going to end in six days' time and the prize money would go along with it. If he didn’t win the competition it would hardly matter if he had to find a new base. Nothing in Saga Online would matter. He’d have to find the money for his mother’s bionic heart by some other means.
Killing Aetherius was the ideal solution. Now that his plans to revive Scorpius had been crushed, he couldn’t think of any other way of gaining the publicity he needed in such a short time while also presenting Bartholomew with a concrete goal. It was perfect! The fact that killing Aetherius would bring him immense pleasure was just the icing on the cake.
“Give me a week. If I haven’t killed Aetherius by then, I’ll leave your dungeon either way.”
Bartholomew regarded him evenly.
“Seven days, starting from now. Whether or not you’ve killed Aetherius, you will leave. Do we have a deal?”
Damien stood up and grabbed Bartholomew by the wrist, shaking it vigorously. He didn’t bother hiding his joy. Bartholomew didn’t bother hiding his disgust.
“Deal!”
Bartholomew pulled him in closer. “But I won’t have you cluttering up my killing floor. Come with me. We’ll find a more suitable corner for you to skulk in.”
10
Victory Loves Preparation?
Bartholomew led Damien and his imps to the back of The Downward Spiral. The vampire placed the palm of his hand against a seemingly innocuous section of cavern wall and muttered under his breath. Bright white light seared across the crevices and a couple of seconds later the wall collapsed inward, forming a perfect alcove where the rock had given way.
Bartholomew picked his way through the rubble without missing a step and gestured for Damien to follow.
“This should meet your requirements, I believe. Tell me what you think, so I can tell you how little I care.”
Damien clumsily clambered through the debris and whistled. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was certainly spacious. If Damien were to stand on Bartholomew’s shoulders (although he was pretty sure he’d die in the attempt), he’d still only be a third of the way to touching the top of the domed ceiling.
“Yes, I can already sense that you’re about to recommence your incessant whining: ‘But master, it’s so small, why aren’t there any furnishings, where’s the latrine, etcetera, etcetera. But this is far more than you—”
“It’s great! Thank you for letting me stay here, Bartholomew!”
Bartholomew looked a little put out that he’d inadvertently made Damien so happy.
“Curses. I knew I should have made it smaller. Consider yourself lucky. Well? What are you waiting for?”
Damien stared at him, nonplussed, before realizing what was missing. He focused on the center of the room and thought ‘home’. The translucent green circle reappeared before expanding to fill the space, climbing up the walls and spreading over the ceiling until the whole room was bathed in it. It seemed this room was much more suitable for his purposes than the patch of ground he’d flippantly designated as his base outside.
“Remember, this is only temporary. If you refuse to honor our agreement I won’t waste my energy throwing you out. I’ll simply seal this door, and I won’t bother checking if you’re inside when I do so. Have I made myself clear?”
Damien fluttered his eyelashes.
“Oh, Bartholomew, you don’t have to pretend to be so mean. You’re actually really nice.”
“Ugh. Don’t make me regret this more than I already do. Your first base-building assignment is to build a Soul Well. This will be the core of your base, so choose the location wisely.”
‘Soul Well That Ends Well – Construct a Soul Well in your base.’
New menu options available!
Damien opened his menu and found a new option had appeared. It was called ‘Base Schematics’. He opened it and was presented with a long list of tabs. Most of them were grayed out, but the Soul Well was sitting pretty right at the top.
Soul Well
Health: 250
Description: The dark heart of an occultist base. Can be filled with souls.
Requirements: twenty stone blocks, one soul.
He nodded and the menu closed unexpectedly. He was about to bring it back up when he noticed a transparent gray outline in the dark, directly in the center of his vision. He looked to Bartholomew for guidance and was slightly alarmed when the gray outline followed, turning red where it overlapped with Bartholomew’s body. Ah. Clever. This was to show how much space the structure was going to occupy so Damien could decide where to put it.
He focused on the center of the room and nodded gently while keeping his eyes trained on the same spot. There was a click in his head and the Soul Well schematic rooted itself to the ground. An empty loading bar appeared above it, probably displaying how close it was to completion. The only problem was that it wasn’t moving.
“Loooseeer.”
Damien rolled his eyes. It was good to know he was not in fact going crazy. Still, he needed to make an example of Noigel before he got too cocky. It was hard enough controlling him already. Damien pretended he hadn’t heard anything and looked to Bartholomew.
“Well? What now?”
“You’ve chosen where you’re going to build? I suggest you start building, then. Although,” he grinned mischievously, “you could have your imps do it for you instead.”
Damien grinned back. He understood completely.
“Hey, Noigel. Come here.”
The imp strutted forward ahead of his posse. Damien looked him up and down. It was hard to tell there’d been any change, not least because Noigel was hiding it. There was at least one sign the imp hadn’t thought to cover up: he was standing more upright than when they’d first started working together.
He came to a halt in front of Damien, his face pulled into a calculated mask of stupidity. If he hadn’t proven himself to be so wily in combat, Damien would have told Bartholomew to take him back. Since Damien d
idn’t have the luxury of throwing away advantages, no matter how small, he was going to have to punish Noigel for his insolence instead.
Sheesh, thought Damien, I’m starting to sound like Bartholomew.
“Noigel, I heard some strange noises when we were outside. They were coming from almost exactly where you were standing, actually. It sounded like someone was calling me a loser. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Noigel?”
Noigel pointed at himself, his mouth falling open in a show of surprise that would’ve been much more convincing if Damien didn’t already know the answer to his own question. Noigel made a big show of looking around himself and adamantly shook his head.
“Oh dear. If you couldn’t detect it, it must be quite powerful. And it’s mocking me! We need to make sure we’re safe.” Damien pointed at the other two imps. “You two, stand outside the door and tell me if you see any strange enemies.”
The two remaining imps looked at each other and shrugged before moving outside and standing guard. Within five seconds they’d started playing Patty Cake again. Since Damien knew there was no danger, he couldn’t care less.
“Sorry, Noigel, but that means you’re going to have to build the Soul Well by yourself. I’ll talk to Bartholomew about how to defeat this mysterious enemy while you work on it. Chop chop!”
Noigel was dumbfounded. He stared at Damien with his mouth open and made several dumb noises that were far more legitimate than when he was simply pretending to be stupid. Then he frantically pointed between the two imps and himself, gesturing that they should swap places.
“No, Noigel, that’s very brave of you, but you’re my best minion. I won’t risk losing you to some unknown enemy. It’s much safer for you in here. You'd better get started; that Soul Well won’t build itself.”
Noigel looked to Bartholomew for help. Somehow the vampire managed to keep a straight face. He simply looked at Noigel and shrugged. Noigel parked himself on the floor and folded his arms. He was refusing to co-operate. Damien was delighted.
