by N H Paxton
“I have had enough of your fight.” Valstrine rose into the air, righted his body, then gently alighted on the dais.
“Have some of this little toy.” The Dark Collector held out a small candle, the wick of it burning in three separate colors.
He brought the candle to his lips, smiled, and gently blew. The flames went out, one by one.
Garret’s red aura vanished as he staggered about, holding the side of his head. He struggled to stay standing but fell hard to his knees. His axe slipped from his hands as he caught himself from collapsing completely to the ground.
Ken snapped out of Stealth, his legs giving out as he collapsed to the hard stone floor, face-first. He struggled to move, his body twitching slightly.
I felt my power wane and fail, my buff from Power Overwhelming gone in a single breath. I fought to keep my feet. I was suddenly awash in a burning sensation as all three of my status bars dropped simultaneously by twenty-five percent.
My Spirit was already down to forty percent, and it falling that low slammed the back of my head with an intense pain.
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
The Cost of Power: You have used an overwhelming power and are now suffering the cost thereof. You have incurred the cost of touching power that is too great for your mortal body to handle for long.
Effect 1: Spirit, Stamina and Health damaged by 25%.
Effect 2: Spirit, Stamina, and Health regeneration reduced by 50%. Duration, 30 seconds.
Icarus flew too close to the sun, and now he’s dead. You still have a chance. Even gods can burn.
<<<>>>
“Not so tough now, are you?” Valstrine’s voice was cocky.
He had just downed our entire party with a single breath of air.
None of us were dead, but it sure felt like I needed to be. My Health points were regenerating at a crawl. I had underestimated the power of this being, this dark Emissary, and I was paying for it.
“You dirty bastard.” Garret was the first of us to stand, his body taking on the familiar red hue it had when he was enraged.
“I’ll gut you where you stand and take all of this awesome loot you’ve got stashed.” Ken struggled to his knees, then managed to rise to his feet. He staggered as he gained his footing, his body reeling as though he were drunk.
“Such power,” I croaked out as I held the sides of my head with my hands.
“Surprising you’re all still standing and still alive.” There was a sinister tone to Valstrine’s voice as he gripped the candle sideways, the claws of his hand beginning to crush it.
“I’ll take a pound of your flesh for every hit poi—” Garret stopped mid-word as the fire went out of his eyes.
He gripped at his throat, his axe falling to the ground, forgotten. There was panic on his face as he was raised into the air, his hands and fingers clawing at some unseen force choking the life from him. A strange sound, like a ball of flesh being smashed, heralded his sudden and violent implosion.
Garret’s body was a mess of splintered metal, bones, and dripping blood. It fell to the ground with a crunch, blood splattering outwards. The remnants of his body shone for a half-second before shattering like a broken lightbulb, the fragments vanishing into the air.
“No.” Ken pulled a hidden dagger from a glove and rushed at Valstrine, his body flickering in and out of view as he ran.
There was a sudden flash of red as Ken slammed his dagger into Valstrine’s throat, followed by a reversal of time that I was just barely aware of. I blinked, and Ken’s dagger was protruding from his own throat.
“How?” Ken collapsed to the floor.
As his face smashed against the stone, there was the all-to-familiar explosion that showed the respawn of a player. Valstrine stared hard at me as he floated toward my shaking body. He had annihilated my party in a mere moment, and I was left to accept the elephant’s share of the bill.
“It was a reasonable fight, but I had more power. I had more artifacts. I have more authority.” Valstrine narrowed his eyes as he landed directly in front of me.
“Shame to use forbidden item to fight player.” I narrowed my eyes back. I wasn’t going to give in to his intimidation, even though the trembling of my hands and my body were probably giving my fear away.
“As if you’re any better.” He turned quickly, his back to me. I couldn’t focus enough to fire Gamma, as my body was wracked with pain.
He waved a dismissive hand in the air as he took a step, then two.
“Your weapon, it’s alive. It’s not meant for you to have. It’s an OOPA. Give it to me.” A mild breeze kicked up in the room as he turned back to face me.
There was a small blade in his hand, shaped like a dagger. It flowed like liquid, the blade shifting countless times in a second. He held it out, pointed at my face.
“Would rather die hundred times than release Gamma to you,” I snarled, showing ferocity I didn’t feel. I was exhausted, my head felt like it was going to explode, and my body wanted to collapse where I stood and sleep for a day and a half.
“That’s fine, if that’s what it takes.” Valstrine turned the blade in his hand.
A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through my back, forcing me to gasp deeply. My Health points took a hard hit of ten percent. I fell to my knees, my body rebelling against me.
Father, I will not see you suffer. Relinquish me, Gamma pleaded.
Gamma wouldn’t be discarded and forgotten in a pile. I refused to allow it. I would die a final death before I allowed a sentient being to be neglected in such a way.
“Give me the weapon.” Another quick twist of the blade.
“Necht.” I coughed blood as I fell to my hands, another ten percent of my already low HP gone.
I would never give up to this monster.
“Then die.” Blazing hot metal pierced the back of my head as I was forced to the ground completely.
Father! Gamma’s voice was the last thing I heard as I blacked out completely.
Blood for Blood
I AWOKE WITH A GASP, sitting up on reflex. Everything in my body hurt, especially my head. I instinctively reached a hand back to where I had been brained by the dagger. My skull was whole, thankfully.
Why didn’t you just give me to him? Gamma asked.
My brain hurt from the exertion of hearing Gamma’s voice.
“Not option.” I managed to get myself turned, sitting on the edge of the bed, before I vomited.
I hesitantly checked my death notification.
<<<>>>
You have died!
You have lost 41,876 XP.
All unspent ability points have been lost.
All unspent proficiency points have been lost.
Remember, even in V.G.O. death has consequences.
<<<>>>
That was an unacceptable loss of productivity. I did the math quickly in my head, cringing as I came up with the answer. I had lost ninety-five percent of the XP necessary for the next level. The Death’s Sting and Death’s Curse debuffs hung around along with the loss.
<<<>>>
Debuffs Added
Death’s Curse: You have died! You have lost 41,876 XP! Skills improve 20% slower; duration, 7 hours, 12 minutes. All XP earned reduced by 15%; duration, 7 hours, 12 minutes. Attack Damage and Spell Strength reduced by 20%; duration, 7 hours, 12 minutes. Health, Stamina and Spirit Regeneration reduced by 25%; duration, 7 hours, 12 minutes. Carry Capacity -22 kilos; duration, 7 hours, 12 minutes.
Death’s Sting: Suffer extreme physical discomfort and waves of weakness; duration, 3 hours, 36 minutes.
Perhaps you should be more careful next time?
<<<>>>
It was going to be hard to complete the Guild Banner quest with those damnable problems lingering. I looked at the quest log and noticed I only had sixteen hours and fifty-six minutes left to complete it. Time was scarce.
“B’lyad!” I slammed my fist against the bed, the softness of the mattress cushioning the
blow.
I looked around the room, which was the simple apartment I lived in above the workshop. The walls and floor were all basic, and the furniture was simple wood with cushioning. It was basic, and I loved it. A slight smile found its way to my face as I considered the entirely absurd situation. I had just experienced an incredibly painful death but was alive.
“Morning.” A familiar voice came from behind the wall that separated the bedroom from the living room.
The door was open.
Anya stepped through the open door, her armor glowing in the morning’s light. She saluted, pounding her fist against the chest plate of her armor.
“Why are here?” I raised an eyebrow as she stepped through the doorway and sat on the bed next to me.
Anya looked down at the floor, then picked up her foot. She scooted a little ways farther down the bed, away from the small puddle of vomit I had left.
“Ken and Garret came back and immediately messaged everyone in the Ebenguard. Eberand is downstairs, doing some work on his armor.” Anya handed me a piece of jerky.
I pulled a large piece of meat from the salty yet incredibly delicious ration and chewed.
“Perhaps,” I started before swallowing the chunk of meat, “with entire Ebenguard, can succeed on small timeframe.”
“What timeframe?” Anya produced a small bottle of liquid. It wasn’t a Health regen potion or a tonic, but something clear without bubbles of any kind.
I took the bottle from her outstretched hand and uncorked it. I gave it quick sniff, my eyes widening as I recognized the scent. It was vodka.
“Anya has found vodka?” I took a quick pull from the bottle, the warmth and intensity of it filling my throat.
It soothed me, carrying my mind away to different times. I remembered the first time Ina and I had gone on a date. She was in university still, while I was finishing up my doctoral project on engineering. We had gone to Alexandrovsky Gardens after having a meal together. We sat by the fountain, talking about the things we were most, and least, excited about for the future.
The conversation carried on into the late evening. Ina was supposed to be home by nightfall so she could meet with her study group to cram for an exam the next morning. I tried to convince her to go, that we should leave, but it was early spring, and she said she was enjoying the weather.
The evening came and went, and we found ourselves in the ambience of the lighted park on our own. She pulled a bottle from her jacket. It was clear plastic, taped with duct tape, and full of a clear liquid.
“To the future, to only living once, and doing everything we want.” Ina raised the bottle to the air, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink from it.
Her face when she was done was a combination of disgust and appreciation. She furrowed her brow as she handed me the bottle.
“It’s quite potent, good stuff. IslandJon vodka. A friend I know makes it over in Pskov.” She smiled as I took the bottle, giving it a quick sniff myself.
It smelled of tropical fruits and directed my mind to an island retreat I had once seen online. I had never been to the tropics, but I swore one day I would go. I took a quick pull from the bottle myself, savoring the coolness of it.
“Is glorious.” It was smooth and clean, with a pleasant finish and a mild sweetness.
It was, to be honest, the best vodka I had ever tasted. I still regret not having more of it while I was alive on Earth.
Ina smiled as she stood from her seat, pulling me along with her. I handed her back the bottle and she tucked it away.
“Let’s get going, still plenty to do tonight.” There was mischief on her face as we left the park.
I blinked, and I was staring at Anya, the bottle of vodka still in my hand. I handed it back to her with a smile.
“Is no IslandJon, but is good.” I nodded as I stood, feeling much better.
“Everyone’s waiting downstairs, Lord Vlad. We should get going.” She smiled at me gently, and we left the apartment.
I arrived at the landing of the steps that led up to my apartment. Eberand was leaning against a wall, his armor the usual mess of scuffs and scratches, but he seemed to like it that way. Next to him stood Zeno, leaning on his staff. They were in the middle of a discussion.
“This place was awful, so many undead. And this magical poison that completely kicked my ass.” Eberand was waving his hand around as he spoke.
“Yeah, you already mentioned that.” Zeno shook his head as he noticed Anya and I arrive. “About time. Eberand was telling me about the poison in the dungeon for the third time.”
“Look, dude, I just wanted to make sure you were aware of how powerful it was.” Eberand ran a gauntleted hand through his hair as he kicked off the wall, standing up straight.
“So,” Garret interjected, “what’s next?”
I looked over at him, wondering what the next logical step would be. We needed time to prepare. We would need potions, grenades, food, and drink. All things we could easily acquire from the workshop. But what we really needed was information.
How could we fight a creature with unlimited access to the seemingly most powerful artifacts in all of Eldgard? Even if we were to use a spell or skill that silenced him, he would still be able to use the artifacts.
Perhaps if we were to paralyze him? It was doubtful that we could get a poison that close. He was able to mitigate almost all of the damage we had dealt, even when I used my most powerful skill.
There had to be a way to fight this creature with intelligence and tactics. I tapped a finger against my chin as I stared at the overhang, thinking deeply.
“Lord Vlad’s working on a plan, as usual.” Ken chuckled.
“Eldgard to Lord Vlad.” Garret waved a hand in front of my face as I finally snapped out of my wonderings.
“What is needed?” I asked.
“Plans?” Garret said.
The Ebenguard stared at me expectantly.
“Determining capacity to prevent Collector from using artifacts against party. Currently, no-win scenario,” I said.
“What if we just cut his arms off?” Ken asked, a wicked grin on his face.
“Yeah, because we were clearly able to do that in the last fight.” Garret looked around at the other members of the Ebenguard.
“I can bind him.” Zeno spoke up, his words sure and steady.
“You’re a Cleric, though.” Eberand raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, we’re not all about healing. We wouldn’t be useful if we didn’t have some support spells.”
“True, true,” Eberand said.
“I have a disarming ability,” Anya said, leaning into the conversation. “It won’t actually cut his arms off, but it will stop him from using his hands for a short while.”
“Good, is all good,” I said, formulating a plan.
I would need to make use of some grenades, probably ones that would either stun, paralyze, or inflict a debuff that would prevent actions. And I needed to do it quickly. We had less than fifteen hours to make this work, or I would be locked out of the quest chain.
I still needed to figure out the formula for the poison I had in mind. If I could augment the Scorponet Jelly to stop him from moving around and using his abilities and items, we could have a viable plan.
“Is time to get working,” I said as I turned toward the doors for the workshop. “Much to do, little time.”
“Hell yes,” Ken said, pumping a fist in the air.
I stepped through the main entrance of the workshop, my group of warriors in tow, and found the place to be bustling as usual. My absence for a few days had apparently gone mostly unnoticed.
“Hey.” I got a quick nod from a blacksmith who remained nameless in my mind as I strode past.
I made a beeline for the head Alchemist, who was busying herself behind a small collection of glassware as she saw me approach. She averted her eyes quickly.
“Shindla,” I said as I looked over the glassware at her. She was a short Hvitalfar with
crimson red hair that hung down to her butt in long braids.
“Hey, Vlad.” She grimaced as she said the words.
“How is production?” I was truly curious how our efforts to maintain the health and lives of the Crimson Alliance were going, and also why she was avoiding making eye contact. There was something suspicious about it.
“Production is, uh...” She trailed off as her eyes darted around the room, doubtless looking for an answer.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, one of the Alchemists used your station yesterday and spilled acid on the tabletop. Now there’s a gouge in the wood, and we can’t fix it.” Her words ran together so quickly I almost didn’t catch it all.
“Oh.” I scratched at the side of my face. “Is minor problem. Asked about production, but am given this?”
“He’s been properly suspended for ignorance and using another Alchemist’s workstation. Namely, yours.” She gave me a flat look.
“Is simple wood, can be to fixing later.” I waved a hand in the air, rolling it at my wrist like a wheel.
“I see. Ahem.” She cleared her throat with a little cough and stood to her full height, which was roughly two-thirds my own.
“Have question, need supplies.” I nodded gently at her as her face changed from trepidation to command ready.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Store of Health regen potion, have many yes? Need to know number, will need considerable amount. Also, antidote, enough to fill boat.” I looked around the room as I rattled off the information.
“At current,” Shindla said as she pulled a small clipboard from underneath the workstation where we were talking, “we have four hundred eighty-three Health regen potions, one hundred ninety-four Spirit regen potions, and greater than one thousand antidotes.” She tapped a pencil against the clipboard as she looked up at me.
“Is good. Will need one hundred potions, divvied amongst Ebenguard, twenty Spirit regen potions for Zeno, and ten antidotes per person.” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, thinking about the cost of this undertaking.
“That’s a considerable number, Vlad.” There was some scratching as she wrote things down on the clipboard, the first page flipped over the top.
