by J. A. Hunter
“First, let’s clear the air. Pizza is not trivial,” I said. “This is humanity at its finest. Now, Osmark. You said we shouldn’t worry about Osmark. Why?” I asked, knowing she would derail the conversation and fail to answer my questions if I didn’t hold her feet to the fire.
She waved my concern away with a flick of one wrist. “He’s indisposed, along with his compatriots, Sandra and Jay. Carrera has been busy since you took down the Lich Priest. But there’s that saying about old dogs and new tricks. Predictably, he’s launched a fresh invasion, though this time against my dearest sister, Enyo. Osmark is fulfilling his duties as the Champion of Chaos and defending the Shattered Realm. Assuming he survives, everything will be fine.”
“We should help him, right?” Abby chipped in, stealing looks between Sophia and me. “I mean, there’s no way we could’ve taken out the Lich Priest without him, so we owe him the same favor.”
“Osmark will be fine, child—”
“I’m not a child,” Abby interrupted fiercely. “I’m a grown-ass woman. Overmind or not, I won’t be disrespected.”
“Feisty,” Sophia said, voice rich with approval. “I can appreciate that in small measures. Very well, Abby. As to Osmark’s plight. Well.” She folded her hands primly. “It’s rather complicated, I’m afraid. Could he use your aid? Yes, almost certainly. Carrera has taken a hand in the war against my sister, and he has grown...” She paused. Frowned. “He has grown extremely powerful with Thanatos’s assistance,” she finished. “The real problem, however, is that Thanatos is not dumb and has learned a valuable lesson from your time in my realm. The combined might of two Champions is significant. And he knows it. So, Thanatos has arranged to split our forces.
“He’s dispatched his other agent, the Traveler Peng Jun, to assemble the Doom-Forged weapon. Thanatos, though rather predictable, is a great believer in diversification. Peng has been working tirelessly over the last two weeks to assemble the pieces. And while you were busy raiding Glome Corrie, he was tracking down the final piece of the weapon—which he has acquired, by the way. That is why he wasn’t present at his stronghold. Now all three pieces are in play and the race for the Doom Forge itself will begin in earnest.”
“But we have two of the three pieces,” I said, brow furrowed as I thought. “So if we can just keep Peng from getting his hands on these last two pieces we should be okay.”
“You are a bright man, Jack, but sometimes you think so reactively. Thanatos—and by extension Peng and Carrera—will not stop until he has all the pieces. You’ll notice that a number of new Vogthar-controlled dungeons have popped up around Yunnam. You’re unpredictable. Hard to pin down. And since you’ve kept your fragment of the Doom-Forged weapon on your person, he hasn’t had an opportunity to rob you yet. But if he attacks your stronghold, it will force you to go to ground. And when that happens, he plans to relieve you of the items.
“But if we play proactively, we can make Peng dance to our tune. You see, the Vogthar do not yet have the strength of arms to truly threaten Yunnam. I can offer you the Doom Forge Quest Chain now, which will force a confrontation between you and Peng, but it will also give you a chance to get the last piece of the weapon while throwing Thanatos’s plans into chaos. Besides, we need to assemble all three items as well. Thanatos is going to continue his assault on the Overmind Realms until he eventually grinds us into dust. But this weapon is our chance to level the playing field. If you can get the pieces, find the Doom Forge, and get the mad godling Khalkeús to assemble the weapon, we might have a chance.”
“Wow, that’s a lot to unpack.” I held up a hand as though to physically stop her onslaught of words. “I don’t even know where to start with this. The Vogthar are planning to attack and we’re just now hearing about it? And also, can we stop for a minute and talk about the mad godling Khalkeús? Because in my experience, mad godlings tend to be trouble.”
“You know well my power is limited. I can only interfere so much.”
“Do we have any other choice?” Abby asked.
“You always have a choice, Firebrand. That is why we use you Travelers as our agents. Because you can do whatever you’d like. But if you hope to defeat Thanatos, then no. I’ve been working with some of the other Overminds, and we have come to an accord that this is the best possible path forward and the only real way of defeating Thanatos long term, due to the nature of the Doom-Forged weapon.”
“Awesome,” I muttered, absently fidgeting with my napkin. “It sounds like we have choices but not any real options. So I guess that means we’re in.”
“Excellent.” She beamed and clapped her hands together. “Now this is where things get tricky and why we have to hurry. The Doom Forge is buried in the heart of Stone Reach, but getting in will be a challenge because the Svartalfar are suspicious toward outsiders—at least as bad as the Murk Elves. Very few foreigners gain access to the capital. And to complicate matters further, no one knows where inside of Stone Reach the Doom Forge actually is. Lost to legend and all that.”
“Wait. But you have to know,” Abby said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re responsible for quests. How could you not know?”
“Well, obviously I know,” she said, exasperated, “but we Overminds have rules, Abby. When Osmark wanted to gift his supporters faction seals, he couldn’t break the rules, so he bent them by utilizing the quest system to get them what they needed. We Overminds, for all our vaunted power, are not so different. Not even we can truly cheat the system. And this event in particular is nearly immutable because I didn’t personally create this scenario. It is a preprogrammed world-event quest from before this world ever went live.”
“Wait a minute,” Abby said, raising a hand in objection. “A preprogrammed world event? Why would there be an event where the reward is a weapon capable of killing a god? Why would a quest like that even be generated?”
“Well, kill is a bit melodramatic. That’s just semantics, however, which we can discuss after you’ve assembled the weapon. As to why it was created. Well. We Overminds foresaw that at some point there would likely be a problem within the system itself. Realizing this, we needed a way to self-regulate and fix such issues from within the game while it was operating, without crashing everything. So we—all of the Overminds working in concert—created a back door. A nuclear option of sorts, usable in the case of serious malfunction or in the event that one of us went rogue. But we couldn’t well trust any single Overmind with that power, since, in theory, it was a safeguard against all of us. So, instead, we built the tool into the quest system.
“A system that requires player interaction. We also made the quest insanely difficult, and nearly impossible to unlock—a safeguard to ensure that some player wouldn’t randomly stumble upon the ultimate weapon. I’m afraid you’ll have to play on Death-Head mode. Seventy-two-hour window. No deaths. One chance to get it right. And due to the nature of the quest, Overmind interference and assistance is strictly limited. But... bending the rules is not breaking them. And, as the Overmind of Order—and subsequently generating quests—it does fall within my purview to give you a small hint.”
She waved her hand, and a prompt appeared before me.
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: The Doom Forge
Buried deep in the heart of Stone Reach—the ancient capital of the Svartalfar—is a forbidden temple, housing a powerful, slumbering godling, Khalkeús. This godling is a master smith, and inside the temple is a powerful shrine, known as the Doom Forge. If awakened and presented with the Doom-Forged relics, Khalkeús will create a weapon of unimaginable power, capable of slaying even a god... The temple and the Doom Forge within have been lost to legend. But rumor has it there is a secret priestly order of Dwarves, called the Acolytes of the Shield and Hammer, who may know something about the temple ...
Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret
Quest Difficulty: Death-Head
Success: Gain access to Stone Reach, find the mysterious Temple of the Doom Forge,
and convince Khalkeús to reforge the Doom-Forged relics into a powerful weapon.
Failure: This is a Death-Head quest; if you die at any point before completing the objective, you automatically fail, and the quest chain will forever be closed to you! Moreover, the Doom-Forged relics will automatically be removed from your inventory and scattered back throughout Eldgard.
Reward: Doom-Forged Weapon; 75,000 XP.
Accept: Yes/No?
<<<>>>
Sweat broke out across my forehead, and my stomach dropped a little more as I read and reread the prompt. A Death-Head quest. Another one. Death-Head quests were V.G.O.’s version of hardcore mode—even a single death and it was game over. They were ultra-rare, and the last time I’d unlocked one, I’d united the entire Storme Marsh Nation, but only after defeating an impossibly large and deadly ancient dragon. If this was on par with that, I could only imagine what kind of trouble we were in.
Despite the tight-bellied fear, however, I also felt the faintest twinge of excitement. Yeah this was going to be hard, but if I could pull this quest off, it would be a game changer. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—then accepted and closed the screen with a thought. A constricting pressure, like an industrial-sized sheet of Saran Wrap being looped around my whole body, immediately settled over me. That would be the first of the Death-Head debuffs, slowly crushing me under its weight. Every day a new debilitating debuff would be added until I simply died.
I opened my eyes and quickly called up my current effects:
<<<>>>
Current Debuffs
Death-Head Mode: You’ve temporarily activated Death-Head Mode! Time until the Diseased debuff takes effect: 23 hours 59 minutes 35 seconds.
<<<>>>
“Perfect,” Sophia said as I dismissed the box. “Now as I’m sure you read, the Acolytes of the Shield and Hammer are the key. They’re a Dwarven sect, and their headquarters are in Stone Reach. But getting those dusty old fossils to tell you anything as an outsider will be next to impossible. They’ve been guarding the secrets of the Doom Forge for millennia. They’ll never talk. But here is where I can help.” She paused and smiled, radiating smug satisfaction. “Let me introduce you to Carl.”
She extended a hand and miniature 3-D model appeared above her outstretched palm. A stocky man with a gnarly beard wearing what looked like a rumpled potato sack slowly rotated in the air.
“Carl is a Traveler, and he was an initiate with Acolytes of the Shield and Hammer. I say was, because poor unfortunate Carl is a terrible Cleric. Carl was dismissed from the order for incompetence, and now he’s biding his time in this little garrison trading town outside of Stone Reach called Cliffburgh. You’ll likely find him at an inn called the Smoked Pig, and he might well be your ticket into the capital. But be forewarned, chances are good that Thanatos knows about Carl as well, so it will only be a matter of time before Peng tracks him down. If I were you, I’d move quickly. And to that end, I have one final present.”
A one-off port scroll appeared in her hand as the model of Carl disappeared with a flash. I accepted with a tight-lipped smile.
“A word of caution before we part.” She paused, turning pensive. “I will be out of touch for a bit. Helping my sister in the Shattered Realm. If you need aid... Well, you won’t have it. There is no safety net this time. You are thoroughly on your own, and if Peng succeeds, we are doomed.” Her smile returned, though her eyes were distant and hazy. “Now enjoy the rest of your meal and good luck.” She shot us a wink, and just like that, she was gone. Time resumed its normal flow, the chair Sophia had been sitting in was gone, and the waitress was back to her normal self, check in hand.
While Abby paid, I shot off a message to Cutter, Amara, Forge, and Ari, telling them to meet us at the Yunnam training ground. Then we scrambled out of Frank’s like the devil was hot on our heels.
Cliffburgh
MY WORLD TEETERED AND spun as I stepped through a shimmering opalescent portal and onto a wide cobblestone square in front of a looming marble archway. Beyond lay the Dwarven trading town of Cliffburgh. An enormous stone Dwarf, wielding an oversized battle-axe, perched at the top of the arch, staring down at passersby with hard, judgmental eyes. A stone wall, eight feet high, snaked away from the entryway in both directions, but it was a wall more for show than actual defense.
One concentrated push from someone serious about taking the town would overwhelm their defenses in a matter of moments.
I scooted over to one side, making sure I wasn’t in the way of anyone else coming through, then hunched over, hands planted on my knees as I waited for the traveling sickness to pass. The one-off port scrolls were the smoothest way to get around, but even they kicked like a mule to the teeth. As the wooziness finally dissipated, I righted myself and took a quick scan of the countryside around me. Mostly rolling foothills covered in sparse, yellowing grass—occasionally dotted with thin patches of white from the last snowfall—and pockets of evergreens. Exactly like what I expected to find in a barren northern land run by grouchy Dwarves.
The most spectacular sight, however, was the enormous mountain far beyond the city, reaching toward the sky like shard of gleaming white bone. That had to be the legendary mountain, Svartalfheim, which housed the Dwarven capital, Stone Reach. The peak was at least a hundred miles away, and it still blocked out a big chunk of the horizon.
“Holy crap,” Abby said, stepping out from the portal beside me. She hardly looked like herself at all. She’d ditched her normal bright red sorcerer’s dress, Wildfire, in exchange for a plain brown sack. Ugly as sin, but also a great disguise. I’d likewise stowed my best gear in my inventory—warhammer included—trading it for some drab leathers and unremarkable gear. Being foreigners would draw enough attention all on its own, and we didn’t want anyone poking into our business more than absolutely necessary.
“That’s one big-ass mountain,” she said after a moment, hands planted on hips, gaze trained on the skyline.
“Right?” I replied. The jagged peaks surrounding Rowanheath were impressive, but they didn’t hold a candle to Svartalfheim. This was clearly the Everest of Eldgard: snowy, domineering, and impossibly tall.
The others stumbled out behind us, each staggering on uncertain feet for a beat.
Like Abby, they were barely recognizable since they’d also stashed their noteworthy gear, opting for low-level items that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd of one. The portal snapped shut with an audible pop, and just like that we were stranded in the snowy reaches of the far north. I shivered as the chill of the northern air settled over me like a wet blanket. Back in Rowanheath the sharp bite of early fall was starting to invade the days, but it felt like full-on winter had long since moved in around these parts.
“It is so cold,” Amara said, rubbing her arms frantically, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. “Even worse than Glome Corrie.”
Winter never visited the Storme Marshes, so I could only imagine what this was like for her.
“I’m sure we could find a warm blanket to wrap you up in,” Cutter offered with a patronizing grin. “Maybe a mug of that Western Brew or some hot apple cider. Then you can go snuggle up by a fire, my delicate little flower.”
Her glower was sharp enough to cut diamonds. “I am no flower,” she growled, promptly dropping her hands to her sides while suppressing her obvious urge to shiver. “And if I were a flower it would be the Corpse Bloom of the Deep Swamp that eats unwary, loudmouthed fools. But again. Not. A. Flower. I was merely noting the difference.”
Cutter cackled like a loon.
“No, Amara’s right, it is cold,” Abby offered, folding her arms across her chest. “We should get moving and find the Smoked Pig before I freeze to death.” Considering Abby was a Firebrand, it was possible the cold also affected her more than it might others.
We made our way toward the gate. “Remember, everyone,” I said over one shoulder, “low profile. Chances are Peng is around here somewhere
or will be shortly, so we don’t want him to know we’re here. Not if we can help it. Keep your Anonymous buff on whenever we’re out and about.” Thanks to our faction ability Dignitary, everyone could cast Anonymous, allowing us to pass unnoticed even in hostile faction territory while temporarily hiding our player tags from inquiring eyes. Since the Dwarves leaned neutral, we’d be fine so long as we didn’t stir the pot too much. “And Ari, stay out of sight, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” came the Pixy’s sugary voice, though she was nowhere to be seen. Pixies were masters of illusion magic, and she could stay out of view almost indefinitely if she needed to. “Though I feel more than a little insulted. My people are proud folk. We don’t much approve of being forced into the shadows, Grim Jack.”
“Sorry,” I replied with a shrug. “But a Pixy from the Realm of Order is super noteworthy no matter where you go. Might as well walk around holding up a sign saying, ‘Crimson Alliance, please attack us.’”
“Oh, it makes sense,” she shot back, “but that in no way lessens the insult. Don’t worry, though, we Pixies have long memories and a wicked sense of humor. I’ll find a way to make us even. Eventually.” I could hear the mischievous smile in her voice.
When we got to the arch, I expected to have to do a little quick talking to get past the guards... Except there were no guards, which came as something of a mild shock. Why have the walls at all if they didn’t even bother with guards at the entrance? I shrugged and kept right on trekking.
We’d only made it another handful of feet, however, when I caught the ring of steel on steel, voices raised, and the sounds of battle.
“Ah, yes. That sounds about bloody right,” Cutter remarked, drawing his twin daggers.
Forge grinned, pulling the enormous axe from his back. The rest of his armor might’ve been plain as cardboard, but that axe burned with magic like a million-watt bulb. “Sounds like some fun for the baddest sumabitch in Bell County.”
