by Brian Simons
At least it was asleep.
Daniel stared at the creature for some time.
>> You have Surveilled Hiber: Level 179 Manticore, 9340 HP.
He swallowed hard. There was no way. Absolutely no way they could do anything other than tiptoe away from this beast and abandon the quest. Its head was two feet tall, a feline face with a man’s eyes and a large, human mouth. It bore a thick, regal mane and the body of a lion, but had giant red wings like a bat’s, red as a candy apple. A large, black, segmented tail lied at the monster’s side.
The manticore opened its mouth and said something unintelligible.
Daniel froze. The manticore opened one eye and looked right at him. “Oh, a human,” he said. “Leave the food.”
“We don’t have any food,” Daniel said, wondering if his hand should be closer to the hilt of his sword. He didn’t want to provoke a fight, nor did he want to be caught unprepared for one.
Now he had the manticore’s attention. Hiber got up on all fours. “Then what have you brought me?”
“Nothing,” Daniel said.
“I don’t take visitors.”
“You are aware,” Daniel said, “that the Mayor wants you gone?”
The manticore laughed. “So you are here to slay me?” He lifted his front paw and looked down at his long, sharp claws. Then with lightning speed, he swiped his claw at Daniel.
>> You’ve been hit! 1259 Damage. [Wounded]
“If I did that right, you’ll have 1 HP left. Soul-wrenching, isn’t it? That Wounded debuff will prevent your HP from regenerating, so get used to that verge-of-death feeling.”
Daniel fell on one knee, barely able to support his own weight. Each breath brought nothing but pain into his lungs. He thought his chest had been torn open and that his organs would come toppling out.
“Why did you do that?” Coral asked, bending down to check on Daniel’s condition.
“I could have killed all of you with the back of my paw,” he said. “I did this to show you we are not equals. Don’t challenge me unless you seek your own death.”
“We haven’t challenged you!” she said. “But now I see why the dwarves have a hit out on you.”
“Yes, well I did nothing to deserve that.”
“Why should we believe that?” she asked.
“Because I freely admit it. For all the wars the dwarves have fought, I have never intervened. I could have ended those battles before lives were lost, I could have protected their children from the Araqueen, I could have flown them to safety when the plague came. I did none of those things. I lie here in my hole and I wait for time to end my suffering. For this, they hate me.”
“Why wouldn’t you intervene?” Coral asked.
Daniel’s insides felt weak, like they would give up on him any minute. He couldn’t decide whether his heart would go first or his lungs. He could barely follow Coral’s conversation with the manticore.
“Why would I bother?” Hiber said. “No one intervened when my kind were hunted into extinction. On the contrary, it was the humans, the dwarves, the elves, the orcs — every race alive — that hunted us. They tore the tails off our bodies and squeezed the poison out for their tinctures; they tore horns from the skulls of the dead and ground them into powders for magic rituals. I owe them nothing.”
“You had horns?” Coral asked.
“Not me!” Hiber yelled. “The dragons had horns, the phoenixes had their glorious feathers, we all had something your kind wanted. I wish the burden of living as the last of my kind would pass. I wish sweet death would take the last of the ancients away. But I would give no mortal alive the pleasure of being the one to end our line.”
“There is still a dragon,” Coral said.
The manticore took a step closer. Coral did not back away. The ancient creature pressed its face close to hers. “You lie,” he said.
“I haven’t seen this dragon, but I have heard of its existence and I know where it is imprisoned,” she said.
“I will not be tricked by you!” he yelled and drew back his paw. He was ready to strike her down, to send her into the same abyss of pain that Daniel was mired in, or worse, to kill her outright. Daniel reached into his inventory and pulled out a small bottle. He held it above his head, wincing at the pain that tore at his chest.
“Do you,” he said, “know… what this is?” He could speak only a few syllables at a time, but he had captured the manticore’s attention.
“A sooth syrup,” he said, scoffing at the potion as if it were a common vial of water. “What of it?”
Daniel opened the bottle and drank its contents. He swallowed slowly, and feared he might cough it back up as he spasmed in pain. He finished the potion and felt his head grow heavy, as if his neck could no longer support the weight of his skull.
“She tells the truth,” Daniel said. “Harold, the Regent of Havenstock, has imprisoned a dragon there. We learned of this yesterday, from a woman who has served in the kingdom for a long time.”
Hiber was livid. He pressed his body back and up onto his hind legs like he wanted to attack. His bat-like wings flapped twice, sending a strong wind through the small cave.
“I am truly sorry for what happened to your kind in the past,” Daniel said, his breathing labored. “We would happily investigate and, if possible, free the dragon. In return, we ask only your respect.”
“You cannot bargain with me,” Hiber said, a low growl emanating from his throat. “I could kill you with one breath in your state.”
“If you do that,” Daniel said, “the trail will run cold and the dragon will continue to suffer. And you will be alone.”
The manticore folded his legs under his massive body and sat in silence. “Fine,” he said. “Discover a way to free the dragon. I want to meet him.”
New Quest: Ancient Mystery (I)
Hiber the manticore wants you to learn more about the ancient dragon kept prisoner by the Regent of Havenstock.
Reward: Improved relationship with Hiber.
Daniel started to wonder what they were going to do with all of these quests that were piling up. Coral and Sal helped him to his feet and they left the cave. They found a nearby rock wall to lean Daniel against. His Wounded debuff showed no sign of fading.
“Daniel,” Coral said, “your armor has a terrible gash across it.”
Daniel looked down. Sure enough, the manticore’s claw sliced the iron armor wide open. It can’t have much Durability left now.
“Take it off,” she said.
As if that were some easy feat. Just breathing hurt. He didn’t have the energy to unequip anything. He was just fighting to stay conscious.
“Guys, help me take that thing off him,” she said.
Daniel’s friends pushed his body and his limbs in awkward positions as they removed his armor. He felt mildly better, not weighed down by the iron breastplate. Now he could see the bloody gash across his chest. That wound would never heal. He wondered, if he had a potion, would it help or would the magic brew drip through his ribs and flow out of the open hole in his torso.
The cool mountain air was refreshing, even if it did give him goosebumps. Then he felt a stabbing pain that rattled his whole body.
19
Coral placed a hand on Daniel’s bare chest. It felt strange, this kind of skin to skin contact in a virtual reality game. She didn’t have the luxury of thinking over the science or psychology of it. She needed to move quickly, before Daniel saw it coming.
She had a needle ready, and a spool of suture thread. If she could patch up a sheet of zombie skin, she could sew together Daniel’s torn flesh, right? It should be the same mechanics at work. In some ways, the entire ordeal she went through last week had prepared her for this moment, saving Daniel before he lost his final hit point.
Coral knew from having poked herself with her sewing needle that it would hurt, but it wouldn’t take away any hit points. That didn’t make this any easier to put Daniel through, though.
She ran the needle through his skin and he screamed. God, she wanted to stop. This turned out to be nothing like zombies. His skin was warm, and her fingers were getting wet with blood, which made it harder to hold the skin precisely in place. She thought the screaming would be the worst part, knowing that each needle puncture caused him to wrack with pain. It turned out, the worst part was when he stopped screaming, almost stopped breathing, like he didn’t have the energy to endure her stitching anymore.
What came next was a surprise.
>> Congratulations! You have unlocked Close Wounds. Skin is just a garment bag for your body, right?
She wiped her hands off on her blue leathery armor and put her needle and thread back into her sewing kit. The Wounded debuff faded away.
“Daniel,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “Daniel?”
“Two,” he said. She waited. “Three.”
“Your HP?” she asked.
He nodded his head.
“You did it!” Sal said. “You patched him up!”
“He’s regenerating his HP, but that’s a slow process,” Sybil said. “See if there’s an inn or something nearby, get him a bed.”
“Will do!” Sal said, helping Daniel to his feet and walking him slowly down Hiber Camp’s only street. The Mayor and a few guards passed them on the street and kept walking toward Coral and Sybil.
“Will he be ok?” the Mayor asked.
“I think so,” Coral replied.
“And he slew Hiber?”
“No, we didn’t touch Hiber,” Coral said. “I’m still not sure I understand the problem. You want him dead because he refused to do your bidding for you?”
“Hiber has lived on this mountain since time immemorial,” the Mayor said. “When the dwarves arrived, we practically worshipped him. We named the mountain after him. We fed him and honored him. Then, when we needed him most, he sat by and let other civilizations slaughter our people and steal our land. He betrayed us.”
“Did he ask you to worship and honor him?” Coral asked.
“He didn’t have to,” the Mayor said. “We respected his strength and assumed he had integrity to match. He let us down, but we turned to Podonos, our champion god.”
“Then why not just leave Hiber alone?” Sybil asked.
“When anger feeds a culture, it only hungers for revenge. Our people are preoccupied with Hiber’s perceived abandonment. As long as he resides on our mountain, he is a distraction.”
“I’m not helping you murder the manticore to avoid a distraction,” Coral said.
“Me neither,” Sybil said.
“I am not surprised,” the Mayor said. “You also failed to keep the prisoner in place. Tell me, was that a matter of righteous indignation as well, or simply ineptitude?”
Coral looked away. She deserved that.
“With the elves attacking from the west, we cannot afford any distraction. It will take all of our focus to hold back their forces. Havenstock would do well to join us in arms against the elves. It may be the only way to stop the elves from trampling the human kingdom next.” The Mayor turned to leave, then said over his shoulder, “If you plan to stay for the evening, consider visiting the temple. It plays host to a concert of sorts.” They stood and waited for the Mayor and his guards to disappear into the crowded street.
>> Construction update: The restoration of Sagma’s tower is 68% complete. Donate gold to the god of wisdom through your status window to restore his temple to glory. Gold needed: 310,885,102.
Coral blinked the update away. There was nothing she could do about Sagma just this minute.
“We’ll need something to do while Daniel recuperates,” Sybil said, starting to walk toward the temple. “Then, we should head back to Havenstock and report on the elves.”
Sybil and Coral walked toward the temple. It appeared to be a small building, like the other rows of houses and shops sandwiched together along Hiber Camp’s only thoroughfare. Its entrance was a solid wall of white clay with a wooden door.
Inside, there was a single person staffing a small table in front of a set of double doors. “Services are cancelled in light of the competition,” the man said.
Coral didn’t realize it was a competition. “We’re not here for services,” she said.
“Good. Through the doors and to the right, then down the stairs. Judging is mostly on talent, but presentation matters as well. You are team 14.” The man handed Sybil a stone with the number 14 carved into it.
“Thank you,” she said, as she and Coral exchanged puzzled glances.
“He thinks we’re contestants?” Coral asked in a low voice.
“Play along,” Sybil said, “where’s the harm?”
Behind the double doors, the temple was an enormous cavern cut into the mountainside. Its vaulted ceiling sent massive columns to the ground in a solid, continuous mass of brown rock. White marble led from the doors to the altar, where a Priest knelt in prayer.
Coral approached the Priest. “Excuse me?”
The woman opened her eyes and stood up. Her short orange hair spiked in all directions. A white robe with golden trim hung from her shoulders. “Hello,” she said, “my name is Mother Storna. I apologize for this, but we aren’t having services tonight.”
“Mother Storna,” Coral said, “do you know anything about Sagma?”
Her face drained of color. “We have prayed to ask Podonos not to heed Sagma’s challenge. We believe it is a trick, but Podonos has faith in his strength and has asked us to do the same.”
“So it’s true,” Sybil said, “that Podonos is going to leave the mountain and fight Sagma in the desert?”
“At noon tomorrow,” she said, “and now that the elves have started to attack us, the Mayor won’t spare any troops to support Podonos in his battle.”
“Should I bother asking what happens if Podonos loses?” Coral asked.
“The end of our entire civilization,” Mother Storna replied.
“That’s a little melodramatic,” Sybil said.
“Without Podonos,” the Priest continued, “we lose many of our most powerful skills first, but the rest start to wither away. The elves would surely overpower us before long. Once they take hold of our mines, they will be unstoppable. It will be a new age, the Age of Elven Tyranny.”
“When we get back to Havenstock,” Coral said, “we should ask Daniel to hire some guards to take into the desert.”
“Why?” Sybil asked. “What do you hope to accomplish there?”
“Vernagi said she was restoring Sagma ‘one brick and one mind at a time.’ Something isn’t right. She’s using players to build that tower and to build up Sagma’s power so he can destroy Podonos.”
“So you want us to ignore the elves and go up against Sagma instead?” Sybil asked.
“I saw a video on the message boards of someone’s visor pulsating red light. I know I broke my visor, and now I can’t see red in the game, it shows up brown. And I know Sal donated all his money to Sagma. It seems like another glitch, I just haven’t put it all together yet.”
“You’d better hurry,” Sybil said. “Though I’ll be honest, I don’t see the benefit of going to the desert. If anything we should stay far, far away.”
Coral and Sybil thanked the Priest for her time and walked toward the front of the temple, then across to the stairs that led to the temple’s basement.
There, they found a bustling hive of activity. Men and women in all states of undress, surrounded by people molding clothing to them, adorning them with bangles and bracers, amulets and wigs.
“Is this a beauty pageant?” Sybil asked.
“You better hope not,” one of the contestants said from behind. When Coral and Sybil turned around, the woman looked them up and down and rolled her eyes. She turned back to the mirror to put on another coat of lipstick.
“We have to get out of here,” Coral said. “I can’t go on stage. I don’t look the part, obviously. And the talent portion would embarrass me to
no end. What can I do, juggle for ten seconds before everything comes crashing down?”
Coral turned to leave when Sybil put a hand on her shoulder. “I can sing,” she said. Sybil let Coral go and turned to someone passing by. “Excuse me, is there a prize for this competition?”
The NPC pointed to a person with a clipboard and kept walking. “Thank you kindly,” Sybil said, giving a sarcastic half-curtsy. Coral followed her to the clipboard-bearer.
“Team number?” the dwarf asked.
