by C. M. Carney
The lever did not move for several moments, then rust flaked from the handle and Gryph pulled harder. It moved an inch and the flames dimmed. The two men redoubled their efforts and then, with a loud bang, the handle snapped and both men toppled to the ground.
Errat got to his feet, but Gryph used Ovrym’s proffered hand to get back up. The heat built and the bursts of flame increased their frequency. What had been an inferno was now a pit of hell.
“I don’t think that worked?” Wick said.
“No shit Sherlock,” Gryph grumbled.
The explosions of flame soared to the top of the chamber charring the walls soot black. The super-heated air sucked the breath from Gryph’s lungs as he stumbled back down the passageway. The sweat that had dripped down his face and back instantly evaporated in the heat. He reached the bend in the tunnel and collapsed into the relative coolness.
“So, we may need a new plan,” Wick said, struggling to breathe.
“Is there another way to turn off the flames?” Myrthendir said, his face sallow and his breath coming in ragged gasps. The heat did not agree with the elf lord, who looked like a strip of calamari roasted on an asphalt road during the height of summer. Tifala handed him a flask of water and the Prince Regent nodded his thanks as he drank deep gulps.
“Yes, each tunnel has its own shutoff switch in case of emergencies.” The warborn pointed towards the opposite tunnel.
“So, what you’re saying is if we want to turn off the flames we have to go through the flames.” Wick said, wiping a sleeve against his sopping brow.
“Yes.”
He looked at Errat. “How are you not sweating?”
“Warborn are resistant to fire,” Errat said.
“Resistant? Can you … you know?” Wick asked, using his two fingers to mock walk across his palm and then made a childishly dramatic explosion noise.
“I do not know, but I can try.” Errat closed then opened his eyes as if steeling himself for a difficult task, breathed deeply and repeated Wick’s mime of fingers walking across his palm and an explosion. It was clumsier, but the big grin on Errat’s face suggested his performance thrilled him. “How was that?” he asked proudly.
Wick opened his mouth, looked at Gryph, closed his mouth and then looked back at Errat. “Yeah, that was pretty good.”
“So, you’re not fireproof?” Gryph asked the quirky warborn.
“Oh, no. I would last longer than the rest of you, but I would still die in mere moments.”
“So,” what you’re saying is we need someone immune to fire,” Tifala said. “One might say someone who loves fire, to sneak through that inferno, get to the other side and turn the switch off.” She was lightly scratching Xeg’s head. “I wonder where we can find someone like that?”
All eyes turned to Xeg. It took a moment for the imp to realize everyone was looking at him. “What big clomp clomp uglies stare at Xeg for?” the imp said in a smug tone.
“Clomp clomp uglies?” Wick said, astounded. Gryph gave him an irritated look that said, ‘focus dude.’
“Can you get through the fire and turn off the switch Xeg?” Gryph asked.
“Course Xeg can do. Xeg no want do. Xeg like fire. Only stupid flesh bags no like fire.”
“Why doesn’t he just port to the other side?” Ovrym asked.
“Xeg need see before Xeg go,” the imp said as if everyone in the world should understand how porting through the chthonic realm worked.
“So into the fire you go,” Wick said.
“Xeg, sweetie, do it for me, please?” Tifala said, rubbing the underside of the imp’s chin tenderly. The imp cooed in delight, its tail curling tighter around Tifala’s upper arm. “Please?”
“Hruuummgghppph,” Xeg grumbled and put a hand to his chin, mocking a man in deep thought. “Xeg do on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Wick said, suspicion and dread painting his face.
“Xeg get slap stinky jerks one time each, except pretty lady. Xeg like pretty lady.”
“I’m not so sure I like … ,” Wick began.
“Done,” Gryph said and Xeg bounced from Tifala’s shoulder onto Gryph’s where he smacked him across the face with surprising strength. Xeg then bounced from one member of the party to another, slapping each one. Each man grimaced as the imp’s slap left a hand shaped welt on their face. Errat laughed when Xeg smacked him. Xeg laughed back and perched on Errat’s shoulder eyeballing Wick with an evil glare.
“Just get it over with,” Wick said, squinting in frightened anticipation. Xeg jumped from Errat’s shoulder and landed on Wick’s head. Wick flinched as Xeg brought its hand down, closing his eyes in anticipation. Nothing happened. Wick eased his eyes open to see Xeg looking down on him, upside down. “What are you waiting for?”
The imp put a hand to chin in a caricature of a man considering many options. “Xeg think keep slap for laters.” The imp then jumped down and ran around the corner. The group followed and saw the imp rush into the flames with a devilish chortle and disappear.
“What? Hey, no. I didn’t … Bastard,” Wick grumbled.
“He’s dead,” Wick said a few minutes later when the flames remained and Xeg had not returned. Tifala gave him a glare that said she knew his tone was more joyous than it should have been. “What do you want from me? I tried to send him back more than once. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Some warlock you are,” Ovrym said straight faced. Wick stared at the xydai who was trying valiantly to keep a straight face and failing miserably. A smirk grew on his face and his yellow eyes glinted. A snicker escaped from Gryph, earning a glare from Wick so icy the player almost felt a bit cooler. Tifala stifled a giggle with her hand, but the ever-regal Myrthendir simply lost it as deep chortles of laughter erupted from inside him. As the companions laughed, Errat’s gaze moved from one to the next to the next, head cocked like a confused puppy. After a moment a low barking noise came from deep within the warborn’s chest. Everyone stared at the massive figure in shock before their laughter became less controlled than a spring storm in tornado country.
“Laugh it up jerks,” Wick muttered and sat against the wall arms crossed in defiance. This just caused the laughter to grow louder and, then, a moment later, the raging inferno vanished, leaving an abrupt hole where sound, heat, and light had long lived. Everyone stopped laughing except for Errat, whose laughter echoed throughout the massive furnace dome like a cackling demon.
Then an actual demon, seething with fire and brimstone came sprinting towards them.
24
Massive cloven feet thundered on the stone as the demon rushed them. It was eight feet at the shoulder, had a pair of blood red ivory horns protruding from its forehead and a spiked tail that could have skewered a boar swishing behind it. Flames poured from its eyes and from bony ridges at its shoulders. A roar that could have split mountains erupted from a mouth, bearing an absurd number of razor-sharp teeth.
“UGLY BLUE DUMB HEAD! XEG WANT SLAP!” it bellowed.
“Whaaaaa?” Wick screamed before words failed him. He scrambled backwards, tripping over his own feet and landed hard on his tailbone. His adrenaline-fueled terror was so great that he didn’t feel the coccyx busting pain and his panicked retreat tore and bloodied the nails on his fingers. The rest of the group was slow to react as well. Nearly all of them found the imp to be a highly irritating pest, but this, hellbeast on steroids was something altogether new.
Xeg’s rhino force acceleration smashed Gryph and Ovrym aside. Myrthendir seemed almost amused before he somersaulted over the flaming armor plates at Xeg’s shoulders. Errat grinned as the demon ran past. Only Tifala stood her ground as tangled vines entwined the mega imp around the legs, slowing his movement.
Wick continued to crab walk backwards, fear fueling his desperate scrabble for safety. His back hit the stone wall at the bend in the tunnel with a thud. A small yelp of surprise grew to terror as the imp pulled his way free of Tifala’s vines as easily as a man walking throug
h a grassy field. Wick stood and tried to push through the solid stone of the wall, desperate to escape. It did not go well.
The imp bent low and lifted Wick onto trembling feet, sulfuric breath pouring in hot desert waves over Wick. The gnome could not move as Xeg brought his tree trunk thick arm back, palm aimed at the side of his face. Xeg roared and slammed his hand forward.
Wick squeezed his eyes so tight that tears welled from their corners. He had no desire to watch his own head being slapped off. Had no wish to see his decapitated body fall to the ground in the last few seconds before his vision blanked and he died. His mind screamed out in apology to his family, to those back home he’d disappointed and most importantly to Tifala who he would now leave alone.
Wick felt the lightest of touches, like a caress of sandpaper as Xeg brought his massive palm flush against his face. He tapped him once, like a grandfather greeting a favorite grandchild and Wick’s legs gave way and he slumped to the floor. His eyes opened to see the massive imp looking down on him with a hellacious grin.
“Hahaha, Xeg fool stupid, blue head.” The giant imp looked him up and down. “Stinky gnome is very tiny. Xeg very big. Very, most funny.” Then the monstrous imp walked away, sat against the wall and grew smaller as if he slowly deflated.
Tifala rushed up to Wick, who simply sputtered in shock and pointed. She poked and prodded him like a henpecking mother. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dinkwick.”
“Me?” Wick sputtered and raised a shaking arm. “It was his … his… fault.” Wick said pointing at Gryph who had come up, hand extended and lifted Wick to his feet.
“He might be right there. Sorry about that Wick,” Gryph said.
“Sss…. oorry? You bastard.”
“As far as deals with demons go, that one wasn’t half bad,” Ovrym chimed in, a small grin turning his face to jest.
“Does he often do that?” Myrthendir asked, eying the shrinking imp warily.
“How the hell should I know?” Wick said in a rage and punched Gryph in the stomach, doing more damage to his fist than the shining breastplate the player wore.
“Can we do that again?” Errat asked, grinning like a fool. The arachnid on his shoulder flexed and cooed in anticipation.
“No!” everyone yelled at once. Errat hung his head at the unified response and his huge grin faded like a puppy caught pooping on the rug. Even his spider pet somehow looked upset.
“Let’s get on with this,” Wick said and walked past the still shrinking Xeg, throwing an inappropriate hand gesture at the imp.
I’m going to regret teaching him that one, Gryph thought.
The others fell into line after the irate gnome and they crossed the soot-covered floor of the furnace. Silence hung heavy as they moved through the massive room, each one of them fearing that at any moment the flames would surge back to life and end theirs. After a tense several minutes they were all across and Errat led them down a warren of passages.
A feeling of unease built in Gryph, heightened by the steady thrum of hundreds of metal feet creeping their way through the tunnels behind him. He eyed the warborn warily. Just how much can we trust this odd man and his swarm of killer robots?
As if sensing his mood, the warborn turned towards Gryph and smiled. He seemed unfamiliar with the concept of smiling and the grin soon made both men uncomfortable. “The Nexus is a few floors up. We should reach it soon.”
The party marched in silence, each one preparing themselves for the imminent battle that could very well end in all their deaths. None of them knew what they would face, but they were all united in one purpose. The Dwellers in the Dark could not be allowed to take control of the warborn army.
Another thought came to Gryph, one he kept locked away deep inside him. The Dwellers in the Dark were an ancient cult that had once worshipped the arboleth as gods and served the Dark Ascendancy as both spies and soldiers. How any sentient being could serve such abominations made Gryph’s skin crawl and his mind scream. With the power contained inside the city, they could threaten all of Korynn.
Yet, Gryph knew, that it could also get much worse and if it did, it would be because of him. What if the Dwellers got the arboleth eggs he carried? What if a new Dark Ascendency rose with mastery of a power deemed so deadly, so dangerous, that a desperate people had not used it to defend themselves against their most terrifying enemy?
They would make Aluran seem like a minor cold by comparison.
Gryph knew he needed every advantage he could muster. He opened his interface and read over the dozens of prompts he’d minimized during their journey. It was time to spend some Perk Points.
You have earned 5,000 XP for completing the quest Soothe a Broken Heart.
You have earned 30,000 XP (20,000 base + 5,000 AP bonus + 5,000 EoM bonus) for slaying Corrupted Dire Wolves (x40).
You have earned 9,000 XP (6,000 base + 1,500 AP bonus + 1,500 EoM bonus) for slaying Corrupted Animals (x20).
You have earned 15,000 XP (10,000 base + 2,500 AP bonus + 2,500 EoM bonus) for slaying Corrupted Baalgrath.
You have earned 34,000 XP (16,000 base + 4,000 AP bonus + 4,000 EoM bonus + 10,000 Legendary Beast bonus) for slaying Denizen of the Deep.
You have earned 70,000 XP (40,000 base + 20,000 AP bonus + 10,000 EoM bonus) for slaying Thalmiir Goliath (x4)
You have earned 15,000 XP (10,000 base + 5,000 AP bonus + 2,500 EoM bonus) for slaying Thalmiir Thumpers (x5)
You have earned 21,000 XP (14,000 base + 7,000 AP bonus + 3,500 EoM bonus) for slaying Thalmiir Flyers (x7)
You have earned 24,600 XP (16,400 base + 8,200 AP bonus + 4,100 EoM bonus) for slaying Thalmiir Arachnids (x41)
Gryph loved that the XP bonus under Myrthendir’s Adventure Party was 50% to his 25%. The elf lord had obviously invested in the Experience Bonus 2 perk. Add that perk to the list, Gryph thought.
You have reached Level 15.
You have 6 (5 base +1 GH bonus) unused Attribute Points
You have 1 unused Perk Point.
“Crap,” Gryph said under his breath. It was getting harder and harder to level, making every Attribute Point and Perk Point that much more valuable. Even with Myrthendir’s bonus all the fighting he’d done since leaving the Barrow had only given him a single level. The million XP he would get if he finished the Reclaim the Dwarven City quest didn’t sound as amazing as it had a few days earlier. And you still have to do it pal, Gryph’s inner asshole muttered at him.
You have reached level 16 in Staves/Spears.
You have reached level 17 in Light Armor.
You have reached level 13 in Dodge.
You have reached level 11 in Stealth.
You have reached level 9 in Harvest.
You have reached level 18 in Analyze.
You have reached level 15 in Perception.
You have reached level 4 in Leadership.
You have reached level 8 in Traps.
His skills were progressing more slowly than they had before. Gryph assumed that this was once again due to the increased difficulty in leveling higher skills than lower ones. The Elixir of Mastery was doing its work for his Light Armor skill and he was both thrilled and terrified. Thrilled because he suspected, with an evil grin, that he’d likely get many more chances to level the skill in the coming hours. Terrified because seeking conflict was insane. Once again the Realms is messing with my mindset.
Continuing to increase his defensive capabilities he dumped all six of his new Attribute Points into Dexterity and kept the five in reserve for the game hack he’d discovered in the Barrow. He also grabbed Set Bonus 1 perk from the Light Armor skill tree.
Set Bonus: The bonus to AC when a complete set of light armor is worn.
Agile Defense: The increase in the Dodge skill while wearing Light Armor.
Silence: The increase in Stealth while wearing a complete set of light armor.
Dexterity Bonus: Increases the Dexterity bonus to AC by the percentage listed.
Light Armor
Perk Tree
Tier
Set
Bonus
Agile
Defense
Silence
Dex. Bonus
B
20%
20%
20%
25%
A
30%
30%
30%
50%
J
40%
40%
40%
75%
M
50%
50%
50%
100%
GM
75%
75%
75%
200%
D
100%
200%
100%
400%
