Legends of Tarthirious: The Complete Collection

by Zachariah Dracoulis

  The tavern was relatively quiet compared to the one we’d gone to in Lukithir, but for me that made it all the better. Without the hustle and bustle of both NPCs and players I was able to actually get a good look at everything that the tavern’s mission board had to offer.

  “My bet is anything that says ‘infestation’ or ‘extermination’ in the description. Like this,” he said as he ripped a mission off the board, “imp infestation in someone’s basement. Apparently there’s dozens of them and the only request is that we don’t burn down the man’s house or make it otherwise structurally unsound.”

  “Aw…” I moaned with a disappointed frown, “That removes the only spell I know from the table. How am I supposed to fight?”

  Gerry giggled and mumbled something about using the energy or power or something like that, then calmed down, “You could always make more arrows, or we could go get you a sword, broaden your wheelhouse.”

  Doing anything even close to swordplay that early on for me seemed crazy, especially for something as inane as a simple infestation mission. It took some serious soul-searching, but I eventually buckled and accepted that having a sword might actually make things a bit more efficient.

  So, after successfully staving off another anxiety attack about how money was precious and shouldn’t be wasted on stupid swords, I gave a confident nod and snatched the parchment from Gerry’s hands, “Let’s kill som- oh Gods, really? They had to call it that?”

  Mission Started: Imphestation.

  Objective added: Go to Mythelias’ House and Help Him Exterminate the Imps.

  Armelia: Chapter 10

  We spent a while looking around the blacksmith’s store, a variety of gorgeous looking weapons and armour covering every table and wall in the place.

  “Ooh!” I said excitedly as I eyed a bastard sword, “Let’s get that one!”

  “Oh for- no! The last thing I need is you blindly swinging a giant hunk of metal around like a maniac. We should get you something nice and sensible.”

  “Nice and sensible, describing yourself in the bedroom again.” I teased.

  “Nyah… Wait, why would I be offended by that? Nice and sensible, that’s so much better than mean and impractical. Now come on, let’s find you a sword so we can butcher some tiny minions of Hel. I’ve still got a beef to pick with them.”

  I chuckled as I started looking around at the more boring selection of swords, “Still sour about your battle with Daemion?” I asked, completely skipping over the fact that I wasn’t at all freaked out mentioning him and wasn’t about to embarrass myself.

  Yay me.

  “What?” Gerry laughed, “No, no no no. My problems with the imps go way back to when I was level four. I was minding my own business out in this lovely wooded glen and all of a sudden a Hel portal opened up and I swarmed by ten of the blighters. Before I knew what was going on I was being eaten alive. That’s why I carry around a satchel of imp ears.” That last part made me spin on the spot once I’d fully registered what he’d said.

  “You what?” I asked in shock, “That’s bloody mental, why would you do that?”

  He shrugged, “Everyone’s got to have a hobby.”

  “Heh, yeah, coin collecting or war gaming. Not carving three foot creature’s ears off and carryin’ them around like a trophy.”

  “The only other option is eating them, which is just plain foul. Besides, we’re supposed to be picking you out a sword, not judging my life choices. So hurry up and pick something appropriate.”

  I went to make fun of him for saying I should find something appropriate when I found a sword that truly sang to me. It would’ve been about three quarters of my height and had a simple elegance that made me smile. No overcomplicated curves or gems, just a standard sword with a leather-bound handle.

  “How much for that one?” I called out to the blacksmith who’d been watching us since we’d come through the door.

  “500 gold pieces.” he grumbled, “It’s steep, but that there’s the last sword you’ll ever need. Take care of ‘er and she’ll take down a drake.”

  I frowned at the cost, over ten percent of my gold would be gone, and it would’ve been enough to feed me for the fortnight, but the man was right and, for some reason, I felt like if I had the sword I’d never want for anything ever again.

  “I’ll take it.” I said confidently as I strode over to the counter and dumped a sack of gold on it.

  -500 gold.

  4,220 gold.

  Received Silver Iron Sword: Weight: 10(-10), Damage: 25.

  “I’d almost forgotten.” I said sadly as I sheathed my new sword and started out the door.

  “What’s that?” Gerry asked after checking his map for Mythelias’ house.

  “That I can’t read durability and everything yet. I’m convinced this thing must be at least a little damaged. It can take on everything from ghouls to vampires, yet he let me walk away with it for 500 pieces.”

  “Really? You want to go back to having your screen filled up with random pieces of information that, nine times out of ten, don’t even matter? What I’d give to be able to just have the basics again.”

  I looked over at him and scoffed, “That’s easy for you to say, you’ve maxed most everything out, all you have to do is get a weapon and immediately hone or sharpen it. And you’re a battlemage! When’s the last time you needed a sword?”

  “Today,” he said, patting the pommel of the short sword that’d just appeared on his belt, “can’t risk using magic and sending a tree through this Mythelias fellow’s house, can I? I’m not trying to be argumentative, it’s just that it isn’t all that great when you have it. Besides, aren’t you almost at the point where you can start understanding that stuff?”

  “Yeah, but I’m impatient, you know that.”

  It took a few minutes, but Gerry eventually got us to Mythelias’ house. It was nothing special, tucked between two other single storey structures just like it and made of some kind of cheap wood.

  Not trying to sound elitist or anything like that, it’s just that it was obviously rotting in a dozen places, and there were several points of- “Hey… Is it just me, or is there only damage to Mythelias’ place?” I asked once we’d gotten closer.

  Gerry looked between the three houses before giving a nod, “It is, isn’t it? You think it has something to do with the imps?”

  “I think it has something to do with summoning imps, yes.” I said matter-of-factly.

  It wasn’t enough evidence for Gerry though, “Phhbt, you’re being ridiculous. No one would summon imps deliberately, lest of all in their own house. That’s how people die.”

  “True, but so’s necromancy, blood magic, and smoking. People still do those things though. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in the world.”

  “Ten gold says he’s just a mild-mannered chap who’s had the unfortunate experience of having a Hel portal open up underneath his house.”

  My heart flushed as the thought of finally having a proper amount of gold entered my mind, “Make it thirty and you have a deal.”

  We stood there staring at each other for a few seconds, him trying to read me, me trying to not smile like a child, then Gerry finally nodded, “Deal,” he said, thrusting out his hand, “but we have to be a hundred percent sure, alright?”

  I took his hand and smiled, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Armelia: Chapter 11

  “Is there anyone that would want to hurt you Mythelias?” I asked to the obvious daemon worshipping elf, the recently rubbed up off black handprint on his bald head and the black cloak a sure sign that someone had been messing around with Hel portals and panicked when something came out.

  However, he was adamant that he was innocent and had just come from a funeral. “What? No! Of course not,” he lied, pointing to the door to his basement, “would you just get downstairs and get rid of the little creatures? Gods know what they’ll do!”

  Gerry leaned in with
a sigh, “I don’t think we’re getting anything else from him, let’s just get this over with.”

  I made a face of mock disappointment in response, made complete by me throwing my head back in despair, “Ugh, fine, let’s go kill the imps. Gods, you’re so boring.” I said as we pushed our way through Mythelias’ basement door.

  “I’m not boring, I just want to get this over and done with.” he grumbled, following me down the creaking spiral staircase into the pitch-black pit below.

  “Ha, sure. You’re just sour that I was right and you were wrong. You bloody better pay up, I know where you live.”

  “Is that a threat?” Gerry laughed.

  “Mmhm, and I know how to skin you and keep you alive.” I said in the cutest voice possible.

  He gave me an unsettled look and shivered, “Yeah… Please never do that again.”

  I gave him an adorable smile and shook my head, “No promises.” I said in the same terrifyingly singsong tone.

  “Oh… oh dear…” Gerry trailed off when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

  I turned to see what he was looking at and jumped a little, “Woah. How did he let so many in?” I asked as I looked over the dozens and dozens of sleeping, red skinned, long eared, peasant tunic wearing imps crammed into the relatively tiny space.

  “I have no idea, but I think it’d be best if we just left.” he said, already turning back toward the stairs.

  “No way,” I said with an excited grin, grabbing his arm and spinning him back to face the imps, “you wanted to let off some steam, so let’s let off some steam.”

  “I’m telling you Armelia, there is no way this ends well for us, they could be level 23 for all we know.”

  “And they might not be. I’m willing to take that chance, are you?”

  Gerry made an unsure face, and right when he was supposed to say ‘Yeah, let’s do it!’ he had the gall to say “Nope, don’t want to.”

  On the plus side I got to say “Tough.” and start swinging.

  Heh, good times.

  Armelia Fireheart has disturbed a nest of imps.

  30x Level 3 Imps, HP: 50/50.

  Imp discovered.

  Journal entry made.

  My blade sliced through the first of the tiny creatures like it was made of butter as I scored a Critical Hit! and a 2x Sneak Damage! making my attack four times more effective.

  +1 Singlehanded Blade Skill.

  Progress: 1/100.

  +10 XP.

  Progress: 1425/2500.

  From there things got a little more difficult though, considering the other 29 imps were awake and moving in the creepy little way they did. Some brandished weapons, but most just started launching at us with their claws and teeth bared.

  I wasn’t about to lie down and take it though, I went mental on the little bastards. One would leap from the left and I’d swiftly strike it down with my hand while cleaving one of his friends in two.

  I even managed to score a few finishing moves where I’d drive my sword through their guts, lift them in the air, and punch them three times in the face.

  It was so much fun.

  Gerry and I were so OP compared to the critters that we actually managed to wade through them to the other side of the basement instead of staying with our backs to the wall. I watched in unashamed happiness as four imp heads flew through the air at around the same time, Gerry and I lopping two of them off each.

  +1 Singlehanded Blade Skill.

  Progress: 6/100.

  +10 XP.

  Progress: 1475/2500.

  It wasn’t until there was one left, shifting toward us through the corpses of his fallen brethren, that I realised neither of us had been hit once. I felt like a God, and a vengeful one at that.

  But more than that, I felt in control, like I was in charge of what happened to me and those around me.

  “You were right,” I said between gasps for air as I sliced the final imp from his right shoulder to his left hip, “I really needed this.”

  Critical Hit!

  +1 Singlehanded Blade Skill.

  Progress: 8/100.

  +10 XP.

  Progress: 1485/2500.

  Gerry gulped down a fresh breath of air, nodding as he wiped the blood off of his sword on the corpse of one of the cleaner imp’s tunic, “Me too. I feel like I could conquer the world.”

  I smiled and had a little chuckle before stopping when my body decided I needed a stitch, “Yeah, if it were run by imps.”

  End of Conflict Report:

  Grand Gerry the Good: 13x Level 3 Imps.

  Armelia Fireheart: 17x Level 3 Imps.

  Total experience awarded:

  Grand Gerry the Good: Max Level Reached.

  No Experience Points awarded.

  Armelia Fireheart: +85 XP.

  Progress: 1570/2500.

  “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be.” I said, barely catching myself as I nearly slipped in a puddle of blood on my way to the stairs.

  “What were you expecting?” Gerry said, finally slicing off the last imp’s ears and stuffing them away.

  “I don’t know, more like one XP per kill. Seems a bit high, don’t you think?”

  Gerry joined me on the stairs and shook his head, “Nah, five is a good, round number. And you haven’t even counted the amount we’ll be getting for completing the mission.”

  I pulled open the door and almost fell backwards, a rather big design flaw in my opinion, but I didn’t die so what do I have to complain about, “Imps are gone Mythelias. Well, not gone, you may want to call up someone interested in cleaning it up.”

  “What!?” Mythelias shrieked, “You’re just going to leave them down there?”

  I nodded, “I’m sorry, but we’re in the business of extermination, not sanitation.”

  The elf puffed up his chest in anger and looked down his nose at me, “That’s ridiculous! I refuse to pay until the basement’s clean.”

  I let an angry smile spread across my face, “In the next few seconds one of two things is going to happen. One, my associate and I are going to get a bag of gold in our hands. Two, my associate and I are going to take a bag of gold from your twitching body after we pummel you into the dirt and dump you downstairs with the rest of the annoying little twits that we had to deal with today.”

  He was clearly taken aback, going from mad to confused to shocked and finally to fear. “Fine,” he said nervously, “here.”

  +100 gold.

  4,320 gold.

  +2 Speech Skill.

  Progress: 10/100.

  +30 XP.

  Progress: 1600/2500.

  Mission Completed: Imphestation.

  +100 XP.

  Progress: 1700/2500.

  I didn’t bother thanking the evil cretin before leaving his house, instead choosing to start irritating Gerry, “Now, where’s that gold of mine?”

  “What gold?” Gerry asked innocently once we were out in the street, the light of late afternoon giving everything a nice orange glow.

  I gave him a serious look, “Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”

  He continued to play ignorant for a few more seconds before finally sighing and pulling out a pouch of gold, “There, you bully.”

  Grand Gerry the Good gave you a gift.

  +30 gold.

  4,350 gold.

  “Bully?” I asked in mock offense, “You went into that bet with the full intention of collecting if I was wrong.”

  “There’s no way you can prove that.” he retorted, turning his head away in overly dramatic indignation.

  A smile involuntarily spread across my face and I rolled my eyes and started toward the town’s exit, “Let’s go. Sun’s about to go down, and I have a feeling we’re in for a bloody night.”

  “Naw, can’t we spend the night in town for once? We could become bards and flee from the adventure instead of running toward it!”

  From there it was just a whole bunch of jokes regard
ing other classes, the bards mostly, and otherwise talking away the troubles that plagued my mind. I think that that night taught me an important skill that everyone should have. Whenever life gets you down just go into a devil worshipper’s basement and kill a bunch of imps.

  Guaranteed palate cleanser.

  Bishop: Chapter 3

  “I’m really quite sorry,” Bishop assured the old man he was carjacking, “but I need you to get out.”

  Normally he wouldn’t have stooped so low as to assault someone in their seventies, and most definitely not for the eighties red compact car that he was driving.

  However, desperate times call for desperate measures, and that tiny vehicle was the first one he’d seen since getting onto the hidden back road.

  “Preposterous!” the elderly gentleman shouted, “This is my bloody car, and you can have it when I’m cold and dead!”

  Bishop leaned his head against the doorframe and his gun wielding arm on the open door, “Sir, I’m on a mission of great import, and I really need your car.”

  “I’m not a bloody knight! Now shove off! I’ve an appointment, and I’ll be damned before some puffed up twat with a single bullet, one I’m positive you aren’t going to use on me, makes me late!”

  The old man was right, Bishop needed that last bullet, he still had two more members of the hit squad to deal with, and he’d be lying if he said they were anything other than dumb luck.

  That’s when Bishop had an idea, “Alright, how about a deal? I drive you to town and get you to your appointment with time to spare, then I leave you alone.”

  The man grumbled for a few seconds, saying to himself that he was more than capable of driving, then looked at the time on his car’s stereo. “Deal, but know that if you try anything funny I’ve a service revolver in the glove compartment, and I certainly know how to use it better than you.”

  Bishop nodded and stifled a laugh, not out of mockery, but at the idea that he could get killed just a few hours from his destination by a jumpy old fellow with a gun.