by Oliver Mayes
Damien could’ve used a Pegasus himself. He’d already gone two and a half hours on foot with his mind working nonstop, striving to avoid any unfamiliar mobs which came between himself and his priority quest. The further he went, the less comfortable he became. The Inner Circle did not follow established gaming patterns. Until now it had proceeded much like every other: each new territory you came to brought new monsters, and their levels increased according to how far along you were in the game. Not so here.
Mud-crabs coated in slurry, waiting to attack nearby trespassers on the river-shore. Dropbears holding completely still, waiting to strike unwary passersby from the trees. Transparent Jellybirds floating almost imperceptibly above the plains, waiting for someone to move within their translucent tentacles so they could go for the kill. They were all dangerous, but most of them were within Damien’s level-detection range and his hounds at least let him know there was danger nearby, even if it took triggering the enemies’ attacks in order to understand their nature.
Those were ambush predators, though. Enemies who struck from the shadows and used surprise to their advantage. Damien understood this strategy, and only suffered one encounter with each before he knew their methods. Other creatures were more flamboyant. A little easier to avoid, but many times more deadly if they decided to focus on you. Sharpies: birds of prey acting in tandem clouds that swarmed and shredded prey in seconds, leaving nothing but bones behind. Rhinoceroses: solitary, grumpy, armored herbivores with foul tempers and worse eyesight. Damien came a little too close while discerning their ocular range and discovered they were also extremely territorial.
Worst of all was the uncompromising, undisputed apex predator of that region. This one was a unique elite enemy, which offered some comfort. One of these existing was already too many. It was called Scolopendra-Millicornu. A flying segmented bug the length of a jumbo glider, hovering high in the glare of the sun to keep prey blind to its presence while it swooped in. Damien only escaped because he noticed the shadow approaching his position on the ground and Demon Gated.
Like Archimonde, its level was unknown. In relative terms it seemed more dangerous than Archimonde, which was quite a shock. Fortunately, this ugly thing was a lot less focused on Damien’s destruction than the ugly thing he’d tangled with yesterday. It went after him for a little while, abandoning the sky to skitter after him as Damien fled at full pace, then settled for the less nimble and much more fulsome meal Damien led it to: a rhinoceros that had failed to foresee Damien using it as bait. Damien watched it flying away, carrying its meal as though it were no heavier than a kitten, and gulped. This place had been intriguing for a while, but that thing was bang out of order.
It was just as well he hadn’t stayed behind to level up on the goats. There were plenty of high-level targets that wanted him dead all along his route. Bit by bit, he scraped his way through lower-level mobs and past high-level mobs until he reached level 43. Picking his engagements carefully was crucial. One wrong move would invite death. He’d rather take it slow and get where he was going alive than have to respawn where he’d died twenty-four hours later without any minions to his name.
He’d traveled for hours before he started to get close to his objective. The quest marker indicated the Dark Tower should already be in sight. He looked up and saw a huge construction, piercing the clouds. Still a long way out. The Inner Circle was massive. Damien crested a final ridge and took it in. This had to be it. The arrow was pointing straight toward it, and it definitely looked the part.
Sticking out of the ground, set into a circular basin full of red flowers, was the tower. It was the only structure Damien had seen during his travels, and it was a doozy. A huge cylinder with no gaps, as if the whole structure had been chiseled out of a single piece of rock. Damien observed the height of it and decided that was exactly the aesthetic it was intended to have, if the rock had been the size of a mountain.
That wasn’t the only reason it was strange. There were no windows. It looked completely alien. More like a monolith than something made by men. Flocks of Sharpies flitted around it, black clouds that split across the tower and merged again on the other side. The only evidence it was a building rather than a bizarre topographical feature was a narrow doorway facing exactly south. Damien turned his eyes back to the earth and immediately spotted Archimonde. It was hard to miss. Its base structures were arrayed around the tower, all far more grandiose than Damien’s own.
There was a Tier III Demon Forge adorned with the demonic equivalent of bells and whistles: spikes and skulls. The Demon Forge’s opening, into which resources and fuel were fed, had become a demonic mouth, and the fire within made the eyes set above it smoke and glow. There was a Tier III Gateway, too, which had been stylized with a river of blood that oozed from the floating rings of stone spheres, then flowed down the steps to pool into the earth. There was one structure that was easy to recognize, since it was no different from Damien’s own: the Soul Well. It might not have been the most imposing, but it did pose the biggest problem. The Dark Tower was encircled by demons divided between the Soul Well and its master.
Most of them were the usual: succubi, imps, hounds, a much more easily distinguishable incubus. They were mainly concentrated around the doorway, but were looking out in every direction. The wraith was absent, a poor choice in daylight, but there was something else in its place that Damien did not recognize.
It was a huge, rotund, blob-like creature. About the same size as the incubus. It was working the Demon Forge with its back turned to Damien, so it was hard to see more from that range, but given the company it was keeping it had to be another of Archimonde’s minions. Those that were not on guard were hard at work, constructing trenches and walls around the Dark Tower in increasingly wide circles.
Damn. It was only to be expected. Archimonde had probably completed the orcish equivalent of this quest already, given its higher level. Now Archimonde was doing its best to ensure Damien could not do the same. With Archimonde there, his odds of making it through the door were nearly zero.
The Sharpies alone made descending into the basin a dangerous prospect, but they paled in comparison to the threat Archimonde represented. Unfortunately, the Sharpies were leaving Archimonde well alone. The latter’s Corruption trait paired with Imp-losion probably made dealing with them all but effortless. Another reminder of how Damien’s character-build choices were not working out.
Archimonde would have to log off at some point. Damien had made it this far, he wasn’t turning back now. It was time to build his first Gateway away from home. He’d have to find somewhere safe for it. He struck out west, away from the path he’d taken, and tuned into his “clean toilet cubicle” radar. It was fifteen minutes before he got a ping, but it was a good ping. His imps hollowed the cave out a bit further to procure the resources required for building. With fourteen imps, including the Forbidden Knowledge-buffed Noigel, and a succubus to spur them on, it was refreshingly quick work. As it was completed, he received a notification:
‘Downward Spiral’ will be replaced with ‘Fields of Eternity’. Confirm. (Y/N)
At least if he died now, he could come back close to his objective. He covered up the only entrance with brush, then Damien distanced himself from it as much as possible. Staying too close would defeat the whole purpose of having it. He traveled around the ridge to a point with cover, overlooking the door. Possessed an imp. Flew it to the top of the ridge to keep watch. And settled in for a long wait.
At 17:25, Lillian dragged herself across the threshold of her home, shut the door behind her and fell back onto it, closing her eyes. That had not been a pleasant day. She’d barely slept. She was glad she hadn’t missed work, but the looks of concern and disappointment her colleagues shared when they thought she wasn’t aware hurt almost as much. How embarrassing.
She’d thought that was all behind her. Yet here she was again. The endless circle, coming back for another loop. Kicking her when she was down, and when she l
east expected it.
The day wasn’t even finished yet. The most stressful part was still to come. Her memory of last night was hazy, after...after that ability she’d been subjected to. But she knew Andrew had stayed with her until she was ready to log off. The last person she wanted to rely on. If it had come to that, it went without saying she’d made a spectacle of herself.
Now she had to go back into a group who’d seen her at her lowest. A group that was already unstable before she’d debased herself in front of them. To lead them. She’d spent the whole day doing a lackluster job being directed in her work team, now she could round things off by doing an appalling job of directing her game team. Assuming they’d even consent to following her, after the dis—
This isn’t helping. You’re thinking yourself into a hole. Focus.
She pushed herself off the door, leaving her satchel where she’d dropped it, and lurched into the kitchen. Food processor was prepped. She needed fuel, something fast and simple. Carbs. Pasta? Pasta.
She limped over to the bathroom, ignoring the ding of the food processor as she washed and did laundry. Once finished, she grabbed a fork and ate straight out of the processor as she turned her attention to what still needed to be done that day. They were in a town. There might be members of the Carlisle-Elite there. She hoped everyone who’d been playing that day while others were at work had remained on guard.
No point wasting time. Lillian headed to her room, got out of her work clothes and logged into the game.
She opened her eyes on the timber ceiling of the town’s inn and immediately sat up. She was not alone. Andrew was sitting at a table in the center, arranging items into piles. He heard the chink of her armored boots hitting the floor and turned, his face lighting up for an instant and then relaxing again.
“Welcome back. How are you holding up?”
Lillian ignored him and moved to stand over him, analyzing the items on the table. There were nine separate piles, arranged in a circle around Damien’s Bag of Holding. So, the two of them had managed to make good on the deal she’d authored without adult supervision. The age of miracles is upon us. Then she thought about it a little harder and realized Andrew couldn’t have attached the Bag of Holding to his own inventory yet. Which could only mean one thing.
“I’m glad to see Damien handed over the bag without trouble. Why are you ransacking his inventory?”
“It’s not like that. He told me to take whatever we needed, so I’ve been organizing it all day. I crafted gunpowder for Trinytea, divvied out potions for everyone and he even had some gear that might help our party. As party leader, how it’s distributed is up to you, but I’ve done my best.”
So Andrew was lying. He must have thought she was completely fried, to believe he could get away with such an outrageous fib. Lillian could only imagine how upset Damien would be when he found out Andrew had emptied his inventory. He’d probably blame her for this, even though it was solely on the two of them. Damien for being a cretin, Andrew for being himself. She couldn’t handle this right now.
“I’m checking in on everyone. I’ve taken a screenshot of everything on the table. I’ll ask Damien if we can use it. Don’t take anything else out of that bag.”
“He really di—”
“Don’t. Take. Anything. Else. Out of that bag.”
“Okay.”
Satisfied, she went into her menu page and checked her messages. There were quite a few. One from Aetherius, just after she’d logged off. One from Damien less than an hour ago. Then several from the party chat at varying intervals. She checked them in alphabetical order.
Aetherius: If you need to talk to someone, please call me. I hope you get to work tomorrow. I’ll be waiting in the inn when you come back online.
Urrgh. What, Andrew thought he could be a little nice after everything that had happened between them and she’d fall back into his arms? Probably because she’d shown signs of vulnerability. Creep.
Daemien: I’ve made it to my objective, but Archimonde is standing in front of it. I’m waiting for it to leave. I gave Andrew the Bag of Holding and told him to take anything your party needs. You were right, we really needed him yesterday. Thank you for making sure he came with us. I hope you’re ok. Please ring me up if you want to talk.
Urrrrrrrrrrrgh. One bad episode. Just one bad episode was all it took for these unmanageable, self-centered, juvenile delinquents to shower her with false sympathy. If having a breakdown was what it took for them to play at being kind, she’d rather they remained as they were. At least they were also pretending to be kind to each other. That was one less thing she had to worry about fixing today.
She turned her attention to the party chat and found that all the messages within were from Hammertime. They were much less emotional and far more productive than those from the other two. Just the way she liked it.
Hammertime: The town is called Glastonbury. The quest trail ended when we arrived. I’m setting out with my guild-mates to explore the area and find the source of the quest. Check it in your HUD when you can. Lillian, yesterday was nasty, and you came off worse than any of us. I understand if you can’t make it today.
Hammertime: Glastonbury has its own militia. It’s not Empire, but it basically runs on Empire rules. The faction is called Knights Templar. The Carlisle-Elite have an embedded base here and there are lots of them around. We’re guessing this is where they quest from, with Magnitude’s wall as their Portal Stone rally point. They can’t engage us in town without being destroyed in retaliation by the peacekeepers, but we’re being watched.
Hammertime: I think we found it. There’s a lake covered in mist to the north. We asked the guards about it and got directions to a shrine, in an abandoned church. Took a screenshot of the message etched into the stone.
Hammertime:
Over the misty sea lies Avalon, wheryn
The ladies live who knowe al the magic yn the world,
To unravel their mystery and bryng back the age of kyngs,
A set of knightly challenges must be upheld.
The first, the easiest, lies yn playn sight,
Goon water’s edge as day turns slowe to nyght,
Ther ye shal fynd passage o’er the byam,
’Till fall of dark fades lofty quest to dream.
Hammertime: So we need to be next to the water before sunset. We’re meeting back at the inn at 6pm. Sunset is at 8pm. Travel to the edge of the water should take half an hour from here.
At least Hammertime had proven himself reliable. Lillian decided Damien merited a message, despite the toll getting him this far had exacted on her.
Lillian: Just got back from work. All fine. Thank you for letting us use your supplies, Andrew is dividing them among the party. I’ll keep track of what we use. If you were recording yesterday, please don’t post anything online. We don’t need to draw any more attention to ourselves than we already have.
The answer came almost immediately.
Daemien: I won’t send anything from yesterday. Would you like me to send you the footage though, so you can see what you missed? If you see the footage externally, you might be better prepared for next time. The modified Possession Archimonde used on you wasn’t even the worst ability it had. It has something like an ultimate, called Dark Omen. Big black hole thing.
What she missed? That was one way of putting it. His offer of sharing the footage was even less tactful than his euphemistic interpretation of her mental state. Besides which, whatever Dark Omen was, Damien was wrong. Archimonde’s modified Possession was definitely the worst ability it had. Besides which, she’d already seen the footage, not that she wanted a long conversation about it.
Lillian: No, I do not wish to see myself bawling on the ground. Good luck with your quest, hope you find your way around Archimonde.
At least Damien was on his way. It was Andrew’s turn to follow suit. Lillian reapproached the table and put on her best matter-of-fact voice.
“Thanks for the i
tems. They’re not necessary, but they’ll be helpful. The rest of the party will be here shortly. You need to be gone by then.”
“Did Damien confirm we can use his inventory? We have a difficult task ahead of us, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Lillian stared at him, waiting for his nerve to break and for him to look at her. Instead, after a long silence, his hand went back into the bag.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“The inventory? Sure. You coming with us? No chance. We got you past the wall, as agreed. You got your bag back, as agreed. This is the part where you leave.”
“Is it because you don’t want me to know what you’re up to? It’s not complicated. You’re on the Excalibur quest.”
He turned his head just in time to catch her surprise. Then nodded before returning his attention to the bag.
“I was a level 40 guild leader in the Round Table Council long before you and Hammertime. You wouldn’t ally with him for funzies. If you needed me to get past the wall, you’ll definitely need my help on a legendary quest.”
Lillian drew her sword.
“I’m sorry, you seem to have mistaken me for someone else. Get out of my room.”
Andrew didn’t even look up.
“After what happened yesterday? I think not. With Hammertime in your party, Carlisle-Elite all around us and Archimonde who knows where, you need someone to watch your back.”
Lillian set the edge of her blade against the back of Andrew’s neck. That did make him sit up.
“I could’ve done with that when you pulled the “prank” on me in the hospital. You know what I saw yesterday, and you knew what you were doing. We’re long past the point where I’d rely on you to watch my back. If you don’t leave, I’ll send you.”
