by James Hunter
“For many years, everything was fine. A tenuous balance, but a balance.
“Until the harsh reality of their situation fully settled around them. It took them ages, but once they did realize the sobering truth...
“Eventually, they lost their purpose and their way. They stopped caring and started changing. They could not die—not consigned to Morsheim, as they were—so many refused to eat or drink. They didn’t need to breathe, so they stopped speaking to each other. They can speak, if they so choose, but simply don’t. There’s nothing left to say. Some made for the wastes, fighting and sometimes taming the other creatures of the underworld. Others went mad. More were driven to bitter rage. I admit, I felt a begrudging responsibility for their plight and a budding affection for them, so I assembled my Prime Aspects—Cao Qing, Tien Yan, Cui Cong, Ji Bie, Chen De, Gao Ren, and, of course, my Champion, Serth-Rog.
“A more mortal perspective was helpful in discussing what should be done with them.
“After nearly twenty years of debate, collectively, we decided to give the Thar a new purpose. Our purpose. The scripts were a necessary measure to preserve them, but I fear they have sapped something essential from them. The scripts take the pain away, but they also seem to strip away everything else as well. Further experiments and observations are required...”
Zendu gently shut the tome, caressing the cover fondly. “In time, the corruption spread, until there was nothing left of the Thar. You know, Vog is actually an old Wode word,” the shaman said, searching our faces to see if it registered. “Though one that has fallen out of common usage, apparently.” He waved a clawed hand, it doesn’t matter. “It is the root word for corrupt in the old Wode tongue. The Vog-thar were once simply the Thar, but over time, we were twisted by the same power that is slowly unraveling our master. Now all that remains of us is the corruption. We have truly become Vog, as your people have taken to calling us.”
“Jack,” Abby said, sounding flabbergasted. “This is just like the Realm of Order. Do you remember the Thrall army? Vox-Malum was using the Necrotic Pillars to corrupt and transform the creatures of the Realm of Order, bending them to his will. That’s what happened to you,” she said, focusing on the Lorekeeper.
“And that’s what’s happening to Jo-Dan and all of the mobs of Eldgard,” I said as the jigsaw pieces finally started to click into place. “Thanatos isn’t trying to destroy the world, he’s trying to remake it just like he remade the Thar.”
Zendu beamed—or beamed as much as Vogthar were able to without lips.
“Indeed, Grim Jack. Our tale is a cautionary one. A testament to what will happen if you fail to stop my master and his flawed design. But perhaps our story can also be a hopeful one. It is the opinion of the Lorekeepers that this corruption is reversible. Is it likely that we will ever return fully to our former glory? Doubtful.” He shook his head, heartbreak clear in his green eyes. “But I think it is possible to be restored to a shadow of our former selves. Thanatos, he is not evil. He is damaged. If you can fix him, it’s possible you will fix us all. And to that end, we would help you, Grim Jack. You bear the Reality Editor, yes?” he asked.
In answer, I slipped the key from the chain around my neck, holding it up in a clenched fist. The Editor buzzed in my hand, restless energy leaking out like the heat shimmers of a mirage. Zendu leaned in, green eyes narrowing, and slowly extended a hand toward the strange weapon. The shifting light from the key fell across his dusty gray skin, and slowly, the color began to change. Wonder crept across his features as dark claws receded, gray flesh replaced with wrinkled tan skin. He snatched his hand away almost at once, the limb reverting as he clutched it against his chest.
“Incredible,” he murmured, both elated and terrified. “Perhaps there is hope for us yet.” He gave me a long, measuring look before finally grunting and nodding at whatever decision he’d reached. “There is one more thing you should see. It is not far now.” With quick, efficient steps, Zendu guided us through the twisting, disorienting stacks and into a small alcove with a frieze covering a section of wall.
“Bloody hell, but would you look at that?” Cutter mumbled, planting his hands on his hips.
Abby whistled softly under her breath.
“Legend holds that Father Cronos left us this,” Zendu said, gesturing at the painting.
Splashed against the wall was an odd scene: a faceless man squared off against Thanatos, a shining key gripped in his fist. Towering bookcases, stretching up toward the heavens, flanked the embattled fighters. Surrounding the pair was a ring of Vogthar, their hands raised high in supplication, twisting, crimson magic bleeding from their palms.
“We have been waiting for hundreds of years. Waiting for you, Jack. Lorekeepers remember the old ways of our people, and we can perform a ritual that will temporarily overwhelm the scripts governing our Vogthar brethren. We will share our minds with them, just as I shared a small piece of the true histories with you. We will make them remember. For our kind, the pain of the past is excruciating. During that time, every scripted Vogthar in the entire Necropolis—in all of Morsheim—will be incapacitated, their minds lost in a maze of memory. They will be alive, but it will be as though they are dead.”
My mouth went dry and an anxious tremor worked its way through my hands.
“We could take the city in a day if we didn’t have to worry about the Vogs running interference,” Cutter whispered. “That would still leave us with Darklings to tangle with—”
“But we outnumber them at least three to one,” I said, pacing nervously. “How long will the Vogthar be down?” I asked Zendu.
The Lorekeeper’s brow furrowed in thought, crow’s feet spreading from the corners of his eyes. “Anywhere from days to weeks. Certainly long enough for you to capture the outer Necropolis and hopefully confront Thanatos.”
“This changes everything, Jack,” Abby said, sounding as shocked as I felt. “Everything. We could really do this. We could win.”
Zendu raised a hand, face solemn, stopping our celebration in its tracks. “The Lorekeepers can do this thing, but I have not yet agreed to do it,” he said gravely. “Such a ritual is costly. More so than you can imagine. Still, it is a price we are willing to pay, but only if we believe you can actually do what must be done, Jack. And that...” He tapped on the head of his walking cane with one slim finger. “That remains to be seen. You have borne witness to the true histories, but you have yet to prove yourself worthy of their legacy. There is one thing I must ask in return for our aid.”
“Anything,” I replied without thought. I would move mountains if it meant incapacitating the Vogthar fighters during our invasion of the Necropolis.
Zendu nodded, face grim. “You have shown great mercy in sparing the caretakers and the younglings—it is the very reason I decided to seek you out. But before we perform this ritual, I need to know they are safe. Not merely sequestered away within the cities, but truly safe. We have lost so much, and they are all our people have left. We have a saying, to remember the way back is to find the path forward. They are our sole link to what we once were and a hope of what we could be once more. If you can find a safe haven for them—a place far from the punishing reach of Thanatos—then and only then will the Lorekeepers help you.”
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: The Path to Victory Part 5
You have accompanied the Vogthar Lorekeeper Zendu of the Lost Heaven Caste to the Temple of Lost Waters outside of Idruz, learning the true history of the Vogthar and about their subtle corruption over centuries. Zendu has offered to help you in your battle against Thanatos, but only if you first help the Vogthar caretakers and unscripted younglings find a true safe haven.
Quest Class: Rare, Champion-Based
Quest Difficulty: Infernal
Success 1: Take the gatehouse and capture Idruz before Thanatos can muster a counterstrike from his capital.
Success 2: It’s possible the Vogthar are more than they seem; find a Vogthar Lorekeeper to g
et the answers you seek. They may just hold the key to toppling Thanatos.
Success 3: Save Page-Citizen Gnaeus Gessia within 28 minutes!
Success 4: Accompany Zendu, Lorekeeper of the Lost Heaven Caste, to the Temple of Forgotten Waters.
Success 5: Find a true safe haven for the Vogthar prisoners and younglings currently in your care to earn Zendu’s blessing and the aid of the Lorekeepers in your fight against Thanatos.
Success 6: ???????
Failure: Fail to complete any of the objectives.
Reward: ???????
<<<>>>
I read and reread the quest prompt, a budding excitement blooming inside me like a spring flower after a particularly long and brutal winter. We were on the verge of something monumental here, and all I had to do was provide safety for the POWs scattered across three cities. Finding a tenable solution wasn’t going to be easy, but after seeing the true histories, I had a rough idea forming in my head—though it was an idea that no general, strategist, or lifelong politician would ever approve of. That was also the reason it just might work.
Because it was the right thing to do.
“Cutter, can you get Zendu back to Idruz safe and sound?” I asked, mind already racing a thousand miles a second.
“Sure. Why?”
“I need to do a few things. We’ve been thinking about the Vogthar POWs all wrong, but I have a plan. I’ll need a doorway, though. I’ll also have to touch base with a few people back in Eldgard. Call in some favors.” I hesitated. “I also need you, Abby. You game for doing something a little wild? Reckless, even?”
She smiled and offered her hand. “As long as it’s with you, Jack.”
Favors Owed
ABBY AND I STEPPED across the frosty morning grass, retracing a path we’d walked many times before that snaked its way through the Avilynn Wood. The fringe of the woods was technically a beginner zone, perfect for newbs to grind out XP against random low-level mobs, but with the war on in Morsheim, it was abandoned. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of pine and reveling in the sounds of the world coming to life: robins and sparrows chirping out chorus and refrain, squirrels chattering on nearby branches as we passed.
It was beautiful out here, peaceful.
A nice change of pace after the harsh and desolate landscape of Morsheim—though many of the trees were badly blighted, reminding me that there was no real escape from Thanatos’ ever-lengthening reach. Unless, of course, we could defeat him.
Abby led the way, lighting our path with an orb of flickering flame as we zigzagged through the undergrowth, forded a lazily winding creek, then scuttled up a hill peppered with downed logs and jutting, moss-covered stones. During the spring and summer months, the canopy this deep in the Avilynn was thick enough to cast the forest floor in near-perpetual shade, but during the winter, the foliage thinned out considerably, providing us with a great view of the sun breaking along the horizon. Beams of pink and orange light splashed across the octagonal building jutting up from the bottom of the clearing below.
The Catacombs of the Forsaken.
The entrance to Jo-Dan’s mausoleum was roughly twenty feet in diameter and made of graying marble blocks, engraved with pictograms of grim-faced skeletons. Romanesque columns marched around the structure in evenly spaced intervals, each of them studded with black wrought iron wall sconces holding torches that burned with unnatural green fire. A golden dome capped the building like a half-buried gold ball, glimmering with beautiful glowing runes. It would be an awfully intimidating sight if I didn’t know the residents so well. And speaking of, milling out in front of the crypt were a handful of armor-clad Revenant Knights and the two people—or monsters—we’d come to see: Jo-Dan and Lowyth.
“It’s early, you know,” Jo called out to us as Abby and I descended the side of the hill, which dipped into the bowl-shaped clearing.
“Turnabout’s fair play,” Abby replied with a grin and a wave.
“Now you know how awful it is to get out of bed at the butt crack of dawn,” I added.
“Nonsense, troublesome fly,” Lowyth said with a dismissive sniff. “We dungeon lords and ladies have no need to sleep. We don’t share the same weakness as our prey. We are always ready for action no matter the time.”
“It’s good to see you too, Lowyth,” Abby said, rolling her eyes as the Revenant Knights parted for us. Abby went in and offered Jo-Dan a big hug, pulling him in close. “Seriously, though, it is good to see you both. How have things been?” She finally released him, holding him at arm’s length. “Any improvement?”
Jo shrugged, but then pulled back the sleeve of his voluminous robes. The black lightning-strike lines were far more pronounced against his pale flesh than they had been before, but they hadn’t spread any farther up his arm, which had to be a good sign.
“Things are still right on the edge,” he said in his usual lighthearted voice. Clearly, he was taking things in stride. “But Thanatos hasn’t gained any new ground since you guys launched the invasion, which is bananas. He’s even abandoned a handful of dungeons outright—recalling troops back to the Necropolis is our guess. We’re still in rough shape, but I’d say the last week has definitely been a win for us.”
I could hear the hope in his voice even if I couldn’t see it on his face.
“The Gravemonger is correct,” Lowyth said, planting hands on black chitin-covered hips. “We are gaining ground slowly but surely. Still, the effort may be too little too late, unless you can crush Thanatos beneath your heel. How goes the assault, troublesome fly? Tell me my faith in our partnership is not misplaced.”
“Things are good,” I said, keeping my voice even. Lowyth was a predator by nature, and even though we were allies, it was never a smart idea to show any sort of weakness in front of her. Not if you valued not dying a horrific death by disembowelment. “We’ve taken Idruz, Oxrus, and Einnheimr, and Vlad is almost done with the siege towers we need to launch the raid against the Necropolis’ walls. Just another two or three days until they’re operational and then we’ll go kick Thanatos right in his Overmind ass. But...”
“But?” Lowyth said, tone as sharp as a razor blade. “But what?” she hissed, instantly displeased.
“But we ran into a tiny hiccup,” Abby said quickly, raising her hand and spreading her fingers apart, just so. “Something Jack and I were hoping you could help us with.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled free a one-off port scroll sealed with a blob of red wax. “Okay, so don’t freak out,” I cautioned, breaking the seal and summoning the familiar opalescent portal that sliced between the folds of reality. Except instead of some random place in Eldgard, this scroll connected to one of the vacant bunk rooms inside of the Idruz Command Center. Waiting patiently on the other side was Zendu, head bobbing to some unheard tune, hands folded on top of his summoned cane. He looked as peaceful and implacable as ever.
Jo-Dan reflexively stepped back as Zendu padded through the portal, opal light washing over his gray skin.
“What trickery is this?” Lowyth growled, dropping low, claws extending from her fingers, the spindly limbs protruding from her back stirring in restless agitation.
“Whoa, whoa, hold on,” I said, positioning myself between the Spider Queen and the Vogthar shaman before she could disembowel him, decapitate him, slurp his guts out through a bendy straw, or kill him in any of a thousand gruesome ways. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It looks like you bringing a Vogthar Priest right to the doorstep of my dungeon,” Jo-Dan said, summoning his preternatural scythe with a flick of his hand. “Or am I somehow misreading the situation?”
“No,” Zendu said, trundling forward at a leisurely pace. “You are not misreading the situation, young Dungeon Lord. I am Zendu, Lorekeeper of the Lost Heaven Caste, friend of Grim Jack Shadowstrider and Lady Abby Hollander. I also mean no harm to you.”
“Lies,” Lowyth hissed, slinking to the left, trying to circle around me so she could leap. “Th
e Vogthar are our enemy, Gravemonger. They seek our destruction and must be eradicated.”
“Not all of them,” I said, lifting my hands to forestall her. “Zen, here, isn’t like the other Vogthar. And neither are the rest of the refugees we have back in Morsheim,” I said slowly.
“Refugees?” Jo asked, raising one skeleton wing, barring Lowyth’s path. “What are you talking about?”
“Do not listen,” Lowyth bristled, flashing her fangs at our guest. “Surely it is some ploy to undermine us.”
“Jo, you know I wouldn’t do that,” I said, somber and serious. “Please. Just hear me out.”
Jo hesitated, stealing a look at the Spider Queen before finally nodding. “No promises, but you can talk, I guess.”
Now that it seemed like the immediate threat to Zendu’s life had passed, Abby and I opened up, filling Jo and Lowyth in about the Lorekeepers, the true history of the Thar, and, of course, the Vogthar women and children—younglings, as Zen called them—tucked away in the corners of our captured cities. Zendu pitched in every now and again, answering the odd question or correcting the record when Abby or I got some facet of Thar history wrong. Lowyth, for her part, listened in detached silence, her many black eyes narrowed in suspicion.
I had a sneaking suspicious that selling her on what I had in mind was going to be tough.
Jo-Dan, though, leaned in as Abby and I spoke, completely enraptured by the tale.
“Dude. Wow,” Jo finally said once we’d finished sharing, “that’s nuts. But what do you want us to do? I mean, I don’t want the Imperials cutting them down any more than you do, but it’s not like we can leave Eldgard. I guess in theory, I could send some minions along maybe. I can’t afford to be away from my dungeon for long, though—not with the corruption spreading the way it is.” He lifted his arm, showing off the black lines snaking up his arm once again. “If I get that close to Thanatos’ power, it’ll be only days before I fall. Plus, there’s all the dungeons here to consider. Low and I still have a lot of work to do, and now isn’t exactly a good time to take a breather.”
