by Edwin McRae
“Yup. What about them?” he asked.
“Think of them as the strings on a puppet.”
“Leading to the puppet master inside?” asked Mark.
“Exactly,” answered Vari. “Cut those strings. The body should fall apart and expose the master within.”
“Alright,” agreed Arix. “Here we go.”
The monsters launched their attacks simultaneously. Judging by the precise timing, the puppet masters were able to communicate with each other noiselessly, either through some form of telepathy or body language that was indecipherable.
Arix would’ve preferred to use his agility to run rings around these creatures, hack and dodge until they unwrapped like chocolates to expose their gooey centers. But that would mean leaving Vari exposed to attack and he wasn’t about to risk that, not after what happened to the druid. Not that he personally cared whether bitch-bot got whacked or not, but her healing abilities were handy and her death would probably reduce Mark to a useless, emotional mess. Arix didn’t have time for that.
He met the first snapping jaw with a sharp uppercut from his axe, shattering the offending mouth. Then he ducked under a bone-taloned swipe and brought his axe-blade down onto the closest shoulder joint, targeting a tight bundle of dark green tendrils. The sinuous strands parted with a spurt of chartreuse blood that spattered over him. The fluid stank like urine but did him no immediate harm.
The bot knows her stuff, thought Arix. Then again, of course she does. The programmers coded her that fucking way.
He continued to duck, weave and chop, getting the better of his two opponents until one of them tore the cuisse off his right leg with one claw and skewered his thigh with the jagged end of a broken tibia. He growled his pain through gritted teeth while he made the most of the opportunity presented to him. He pivoted, felt the creature’s bone grate against his own leg bone as it was pulled off balance. He roared “Chopping Block!” and drove his axehead into the cluster of skulls that served as a head. The blade shattered the grinning ensemble and sank deep into the creature’s putrid mass. The blow sent the monster into a full-body spasm. There was a sickly snowstorm of rotting flesh and splintered bone as the thing’s entire bulk disintegrated.
As Arix pulled his axe free, the monster’s necrotic heart came with it. At least, it looked like a heart at first glance. Arix took in the grotesque picture of its suppurating flesh and writhing tendrils, and decided it was as far from being a heart as this fucked-up game was from being real. He drove his axe down once more, this time against the ground, and watched with nauseous satisfaction as the tumorous growth split open like a rotten pumpkin.
You have slain a Level 9 Flesh Nester.
Your XP reward per party member = 30 XP
Please note that your party has 3 members.
Only three? wondered Arix. For some reason the game wasn’t including Citadel as a party member.
He shrugged, gritted his teeth, and hauled the shard of bone out of his leg. Vari shouted “Mend Flesh!” behind him. He expected it to be Mark she was healing but was pleasantly surprised as a warm tingling spread across his thigh. The hole in his flesh closed up and he had his mobility back just in time for the second Flesh Nester to descend upon him. He knocked aside the first couple of attacks, trying to open up a gap so he could go for the killing blow.
“Mark!” he shouted.
“Yup?!”
“The Flesh Nester, it’s behind the skull cluster!”
Mark’s answer was drowned out by a thrice-repeated cry of “Sculpt Bone!” from Vari. Arix heard a loud snap in the monster before him and the sound was echoed from the creatures fighting with Mark. One after the other, three skull clusters tumbled to the ground. With its shield of bone gone, it was a much easier matter for Arix to drive his axehead into the resulting orifice and bisect the puppet master within.
You have slain a Level 9 Flesh Nester.
Your XP reward per party member = 30 XP
Squelch, hiss. Arix turned to see Mark run his second opponent through with his volcanic sword. Squelch, hiss. It reminded Arix of the time he’d taken Krissy camping in Ireland. The sausages had made that same squelch when he’d slid them onto the skewer and that same hiss as they cooked over the campfire.
Your party has slain two Level 9 Flesh Nesters.
Your XP reward per party member = 60 XP
Arix checked his stats to see how close he was to Level 7. It couldn’t be far away, surely.
Arix the Damned
Class: Executioner - Level 6
Progress to Level 7 = 972/1000
“Fuck me!”
“Something wrong?” asked Mark.
“Only twenty-eight XP off my next level.” He scanned the area for more Flesh Nesters or anything they could kill for the measly 28 XP he needed. Nothing obliged.
Mark gave him a wry grin. “Then maybe now’s not the best time to say that I just hit Level Eight. Tier Four in Swordplay too.”
“Well aren’t you the clever bastard,” countered Arix. “Bet your mummy’s right fucking proud.”
Mark flipped him the bird but was still smiling as he did it. Arix retrieved his Tempered Cuisse and looked sadly at the broken strap. “Well, that’s a bit shit.”
Vari took it from him and tucked it into her backpack. “One of the villagers will fix it back at Citadel. In the meantime...”
She crossed to one of the putrid meat piles and pushed it open with her ebony staff. Without showing even the faintest hint of disgust, she reached through the mass of writhing maggots and lifted out a pair of gauntlets. The chainmail gloves were slick with gore but still gleamed like they’d only been forged yesterday. She poured their contents of maggots and liquified flesh onto the ground.
Arix felt the gorge rise in his throat. “I can’t wear them things.”
“Why not?” asked Vari as she flicked a few strands of something unsavory from her fingers.
“It’d be like sticking my hands in a corpse,” complained Arix.
“Have you never done that?”
“Of course fucking not!”
Vari rolled her eyes, took a flask from her bag and sprinkled a few drops of its contents into the gauntlets. Steam rose for a few seconds and then dissipated as Vari passed them to Arix.
He inspected them gingerly. “What’d you just do to them?”
“Potion of Purification. Go on, try them on.”
Bracing himself to feel ‘slime of putrefaction’ and ‘wriggle of fly larvae’, Arix slid his hand into the glove. It was warm, dry and fit him like a...glove.
Jaravir’s Handshake
Silver-forged Gauntlets
40% reduction in damage to the hands.
10% reduction in all physical damage received.
10% increased accuracy with two-handed weapons.
10% increased damage dealt with two-handed weapons.
“I make a promise with a handshake
and keep it with a fist.”
- Jaravir the Bloodcoin
Vari salvaged and purified a helmet in the same fashion, handing it to Mark. It was a sleek thing with nose and cheek guards, and gleamed with the same silver forging as Arix’s gauntlets.
“Something else from our dearly departed Jaravir?” asked Arix.
Mark nodded and recited the stats.
Jaravir’s Icy Resolve
Silver-forged Helmet
+2 Body.
+1 Mind.
40% reduction in damage to the head.
10% reduction in all physical damage received.
Contains ‘Petina of Frost’ to keep the wearer cool during battle.
“Either your head stays cool or you lose it.”
- Jaravir the Bloodcoin
“You’re playing favorites, Vari,” jabbed Arix, covering his twinge of jealousy.
“He’s prettier than you,” reposted Vari.
Arix didn’t even bother answering that. “I’ll scout ahead while you two finish looting. Don’t want a
ny more nasty surprises.”
“Alright thanks, Arix,” answered Mark as he and Vari bent over the next pile of rotting meat.
“Don’t mention it,” said Arix, simply glad to get away from the smell. It was even worse than London in summer, and that was saying something.
14
[Mark]
“This is the source of the vibrations,” concluded Citadel as Mark popped the amulet chain back over his neck.
Mark took in the pulsating mess before him and tried his best not to chunder his guts out. The air was fat with putrefaction. Hands, feet and heads sprouted from the glistening bulk like flowers on a bulbous cactus. Thick green cords ran through everything, making the thing look like a gigantic cancerous tumor.
You have received a Chasm of Corruption Subquest.
Pit of Despair
Destroy this legendary creature, the Root of Solmora, to cleanse this area of corruption.
“And I thought the Ghast Queen was ugly,” he remarked to Vari, his voice thick with nausea.
“Those poor people,” was all Vari could say in response.
He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Who were they?”
“Reiver settlers.”
Mark noticed that some of the hands and feet were much smaller than the others, having once belonged to children. “This’ll happen to a lot more people if we don’t stop it. Reivers and Garlanders both.”
And he could stop it. That was the difference here. He was a nothing back in RL. He wasn’t a doctor driven by the death of his father to discover a cure for cancer. Nor was he an aid worker fighting poverty in the third world. He wasn’t a policeman or an eco warrior or a therapist hauling others from the swamps of their own questionable decision-making. He operated a drone forklift by day and lay on his back playing FIVR video games at night. Here in Reign of Blood he felt every inch the hero he’d always dreamed of being. He wasn’t just some sack of meat and blood hauling himself through another meaningless day. He was a warlock, fighting corruption to save the innocent, and he had the character sheet to prove it.
Mark of Citadel
Class: Warlock - Level 8
Progress to Level 9 = 1797/3000
Body: 18
Jaravir’s Icy Resolve +2 Modifier: 20
Mind: 12
Jaravir’s Icy Resolve +1 Modifier: 13
Spirit: 14
HP: 144 / 144
Modified HP: 160 / 160
EP: 112 / 112
Skills
Swordplay (Tier 4)
Horse Riding (Tier 2)
Spells
Terrifying Manifestation (Tier 3)
Arcane Edge (Tier 3)
Ethereal Flesh (Tier 3)
Avalar’s Leech (Tier 2)
Ivara’s Ignited Exhalation (Tier 2)
Doppelganger (Tier 1)
Second Skin (Tier 3)
Forge Anew (Tier 1)
Mind of Matter (Tier 1)
Having leveled up to 8 after their encounter with the flesh nesters, he’d received a rather surprising and welcome upgrade.
As a Level 8 Warlock, you have mastery over the magic that flows through your veins.
Transference
Transfer a Tier from one spell to another.
Requires a Mind Score of 16 and the consumption of one Spell Slot.
Even with the +1 Mind from Jaravir’s Icy Resolve, Mark was only going to hit Mind 15 if he applied his two new ability points there. But Transference would be a bloody useful ability once he had it, so he dropped both points onto Mind. He would either have to wait until Level 9 to make the most of Transference or find another magical item that would boost his Mind score. Perhaps Vari could even cook up a potion that would give him a temporary +1 bonus. In the meantime he brought up his spell list.
Spell Selection
You have 7 magical spells available for selection.
You have 5 spell slots remaining.
Cunning Linguist (Cast cost = 7 EP)
Brain Leash (Cast cost = 7 EP)
Lurking Inferno (Cast cost = 8 EP)
Crippling Lethargy (Cast cost = 9 EP)
Contagious Fervor (Cast cost = 9 EP)
War Cry (Cast cost = 10 EP)
Shroud of Shadow (Cast cost = 10 EP)
Alternatively, you may wish to save your spell slots for ‘found’ spells.
Mark figured he should pick out a spell now and earmark one slot for a spell he might choose to deal with a situation at hand. That would still leave him three spell slots to consume for Transference should he find a way to reach Mind 16.
Shroud of Shadow
The caster becomes invisible to the direct gaze of the naked eye. The warlock can be seen in peripheral vision but details will be blurred.
Tier 1: Lasts for up to 30 seconds. Upon taking damage, the caster becomes visible once more.
“My wife wished I would disappear one day, so I did.” - Zevryn the Everborn
That sounded pretty bloody useful to Mark so he didn’t bother investigating any further. He slotted Shroud of Shadow into place.
“What are you smiling about?” asked Vari.
“I’m a Level Eight Warlock now and I have a new spell to try it.”
“I’m glad you can find something to smile about when faced with a horror like this.”
Mark looked at her for a long moment, trying to work out if she was having a go at him. From his ex-wife, that comment would’ve been fair dripping with passive aggression. Vari looked up at him, wide-eyed and sincere.
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
Vari nodded. “Of course I do. You’ve died in so many horrible ways. You’ve seen friends killed before your eyes. You’ve battled creatures that look like they’ve crawled straight out of an inquisitor’s worst nightmare. Yet here you are, facing it all with a smile. You’re either very brave or slightly crazy. Either way works for me.”
Mark pulled Vari close, channeling his sudden love surge down through his arms and into a tight squeeze.
“Mark?”
“Yes?”
“Can’t breathe.”
“Oops, sorry.” He relaxed his arms. “The helmet’s boosted me to Body Twenty. Still getting used to it.”
Mark’s amulet coughed politely. “At the risk of interrupting this lovely yet somewhat macabre moment,” said Citadel, “do we have a plan for destroying this abomination?”
Mark scanned his surroundings until he spotted Arix. The executioner was perched on the opposite wall now, peering down into the chasm. “We’ll see what Arix has to say when he gets back, but I’m thinking that we bring the roof down on this thing.” He pointed up at the remains of the basilica above them. While the dome looked like a partially eaten Easter egg, there was still enough masonry to crush the horror below them into a putrid pulp. “Arix climbs like a monkey so we’ll see if he’s prepared to clamber up there with one of Calder’s explosives. How many did you bring, Vari?”
“Three.”
“Okay, cool.” He touched his fingers to the amulet. “Sid, would you be able to sense the weak spots around here?”
“I could certainly give it a try.”
Mark took the amulet from his neck, crouched down and pressed it to the stone at his feet. The ruby sparkled for a moment. Citadel was exercising his powers of perception.
“Yes, there are stress fractures near where Arix is now. Calder’s explosive should be enough to collapse that portion of the basilica. However, the angle of the falling rock will only partially crush the Root of Solmora. For complete obliteration, I would suggest blowing the base of that teetering goddess statue nearby, and also the colonnade across the way. The latter would bring down another sizeable portion of the roof.”
A thin bridge crossed the chasm to the colonnade in question. It looked none too stable to Mark. “Will that bridge hold me?”
“Yes, although it’ll collapse when the colonnade goes. We would have to find another way back as you are not endowed
with Arix’s rather remarkable climbing abilities. Never fear though, I will be able to feel the terrain out ahead of you, identify the correct passageways.”
“Sorry, Sid, but you’re not coming with me.” He removed the amulet and placed it over a surprised Vari’s head. “I’ll reset my spawn point over this side.” He unbuckled his sheath and handed Volcanic Bastard to Vari as well. “Worst case scenario, I’ll die and resurrect nearby, but I can’t risk you getting scooped up by someone or something before I get back to you.”
“Might I remind you that I can transfer myself through architecture?”
“I know, but you’d have to be touching the architecture first, and I can imagine far too many scenarios where that isn’t going to be possible. I’d feel much better if you were with Vari for this.”
“You clearly have a more active imagination than I do, but I shall bow to your fanciful logic this time.”
“Thanks, Sid.”
Vari buckled Volcanic Bastard to her back and then handed Mark her dagger. “Not much good to you in a fight, even with Arcane Edge, but you could always stab yourself in the throat with it.”
Mark gave her a wry grin. “Your kindness is unrivalled, my lady.”
Vari remained solemn. “Whatever it takes for you to come back to me.”
Mark cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the lips. Then he pressed his forehead to hers so that her two eyes became one, like a cute cyclops.
“Then make sure you’re safe so there’s still a beautiful lady for me to come back to.”
