“‘We’ as in you and the biota, you and Snegov—or you and your schizophrenia?” I asked suspiciously.
“Well, persons two and three in your list are actually just the same individual,” the pilot corrected me. “My plan with the biota isn’t artful, it’s merely racy—more so than OG Kush. Anyway, they’re going to remove that thing from my jaw today and then tomorrow we can go and do a barbecue! What do you say?” He gave me a look like he’d just gotten tickets to Iron Maiden undead at the Albert Hall.
“I’m up for anything, apart from a hunger strike. I’ll have to reschedule band practice with the guys though and wrap up some business in Barliona. Ideally, I’d like to reach the Arras, so don’t wait for me too long. I imagine I’ll be eating dinner inside the capsule tonight.”
I RESPAWNED close to the renegades’ camp, in the center of a circle of mossy boulders. It wasn’t exactly Stonehenge, but it looked solid all the same. I wonder how the game lore justifies being respawned in this spot. And whether any of the NPCs know it...Then again, now isn’t the time for idle curiosity. I have a lot of work ahead of me.
First I need to increase the time I can channel the Shadow Haze. Should I invest some points into Intellect? Then I’d be able to increase the AoE of the haze and get a big leg-up. It’s too bad but it looks like I won’t be able to avoid doing this. I’ll invest a few unallocated stat points before my next attempt and try to grind Intellect in the meantime. First I’ll heal myself until my mana’s gone, then take a sip from the flask, a small yet welcome increase in my mana regen, after that more healing and so on and so forth.
Mana potions are vital too. I had the alchemist trait and even a small collections of herbs, but those would be but a drop in the old mana pool. I hadn’t seen any chemists around here and, anyway, most of my cash was in the bank. I’ll have to ask Chip to pick up some potions for me. The important thing is to choose some place that won’t be too difficult to rendezvous at.
This is where the difficulties began: The renegades were obviously trying to blight the entire forest and I didn’t know the areas already blighted and more importantly the paths connecting them. Should Chip and I simply beeline for one another, or should we check out the renegades’ territory? I’d guess the second. I have to know where I can move safely.
The next item on the day’s agenda was traits. I spent a long time ruminating why unlike that Mahan, I didn’t get any of those shadow spells I’d seen in the videos. Every class in that quest got new skills and powers, but not me. And, I believe, I stumbled on the answer. I could simply learn whatever powers I wanted from the renegades’ classes. And in that case I should figure out what I can spend my training points on as well as what I’ll need for my upcoming battle to sow those seeds. In other words, the time had come to chat up some folks.
I didn’t have many acquaintances in the camp: Vex, Palisandro the quartermaster and the not-so-friendly legates, centurions and all those other velites. I didn’t bother adding Geranika or the Sixth to this list for obvious reasons. Those two weren’t about to teach me for nothing. Heck, I couldn’t even have much of a conversation with them. Although...Aren’t I on good terms with the Sixth now or something? Should I try my luck? And yet how exactly is a necromancer going to help me kite the Forest Sentry? Either way, I should talk to her last. Vex, on the other hand, was someone who could surely help my cause with some sensible advice.
As it turned out, I wasn’t destined to talk to Vex just then. As soon as one of the armored pirqs saw me, he waved an enormous paw.
“Lorelei!” he barked so bombastically that I jumped in place. “Astilba wishes to see you!”
“W-why?” I was so stunned by the bellowing of my name, I even got the hiccups. Had this been meatspace, I would’ve outrun my own squeal.
“The details of the matter aren’t my concern. My orders are to deliver the Sixth’s summons and bring you to her.”
It all sounded so emphatic that I didn’t even bother arguing. My only connection to the Sixth aside from our mutual faction was the Cypro songbook quest. It’s reasonable to assume that I was about to discover the next episode in this chain.
We headed for the familiar meadow but contrary to my expectations, I didn’t find Astilba sitting on her throne. In fact she wasn’t around at all. The pirq didn’t seem bothered. He stomped confidently past the giant wolves following us with their eyes and approached the spot where the roots webbed together. He had barely entered the dusk cast by the immense tree’s shadow when I finally noticed that which lay hidden from the prying eyes of anyone straying into the camp’s closed area. An entrance to a dungeon stood darkly within the tree’s roots, cloaked with a shimmering film. A dungeon! The very one that our dear Otolaryngologist and his buddies were looking for, and the same one Sloe wanted to find. Yeah. Given the renegades’ level, none of the above would be finding this dungeon any time soon. I think Chip was having his effect on me because my next thought was to sell the location’s coordinates. Not now, of course, but once the scenario was done. I wonder how much I could get for this info...?
As soon as I stepped through a barely glowing area of the meadow, a system notification appeared before me:
Message for the player! A new dungeon has been discovered: Headquarters of the Renegades of the Hidden Forest. +50% chance an enemy drops a valuable item. +20% XP earned.
Yup. Really valuable information. Hell, I could turn this entire place, the Sixth and all, into a loot-rich source of XP mixed with compost. As for unlocking new areas, that was as useful to me as a saddle on a cow.
My contemplation of the meta ended barely having begun. No sooner had we entered the dark passageway, which smelled of humid earth and withered leaves, than we found ourselves in a curious facility. A system of tunnels running among several spacious halls was built into the tree’s roots. The floor, the walls, if these terms still applied here, were covered with barely glowing moss which created a mysterious gloom and lightened the otherwise grim ambience. Here and there hung clumps of some kind of blighted plant. I could swear that when I passed, some part of them moved.
We went through about seven halls but I only managed to glance into one and even then briefly. I saw an imposing biota in beautiful, intricately-ornamented, wooden armor explaining something to a ginger, furry pirq. I recalled both the pirq and the biota from my vision of the Schism. This was the Second—the eldest warrior of the biota—and one of the pirq chiefs that I was seeing with my own two eyes. Does this mean that these boys were going to be the bosses in this dungeon? And so Astilba too? The thought alone made me feel a bit queasy. This means that the scenario’s outcome was predetermined and the renegades would become XP fodder for the players coming from Kartoss. Shall good triumph or shall evil conquer? Who cares? The game was all that mattered. It would be an ignominious end to an interesting story.
As I reflected on all this, we reached the end of our brief journey. I would call this place a laboratory, even though there weren’t any workbenches with alembics, vials, crucibles and all that other fluff that typically decked out labs in the movies. In exchange, there was one very ominous-looking altar and shimmering pentagrams etched into the very even and for some reason stone floor. There were hexagrams too and a couple other-grams. The Level 400 demon standing in the center of one of these etchings did not seem like an ornament that the Sixth had chosen for her interior. And indeed Astilba herself looked different from last time: Her traditional biota dress of flower petals, as well as her vermillion mantle, were decorated with various characters. A small scabbard hung from a belt fashioned of the same petals and a necklace of a dozen softly glowing stones was clasped around Astilba’s neck. It all looked like items from the ‘Dream of the Necromancer Set,’ no less.
“I have no answer to your question,” the demon standing on the other side of the magical barrier growled to Astilba. “That which you wish for is impossible!”
“You err,” the Sixth replied in a deceptively soft voice—an indomi
table flame blazing in her eyes. In one deft flick she whipped out a strange looking knife, squatted down smoothly and with one swipe etched a new line, changing the image. The glowing lines flared up for a moment then faded and the demon vanished in a puff of red smoke.
“Greetings, oh Sixth,” the pirq escorting me bowed reverently and I hurried to follow him. This NPC gave me the shivers. I don’t know who programs the game imitators—or how—but they definitely know what they’re doing. A single glance at Astilba was enough for me to sense her presence with my own skin: Hers was not the kindest vibe, but it was definitely vivid.
The Sixth straightened out, put the dagger away, raised her head and fixed me with a dour, trying look.
“Thank you, Borofos. Leave us now.”
Without a trace of obsequy, the pirq bowed his head and retired, leaving me one on one with the local dungeon boss.
“Lorelei,” Astilba said with an odd intonation, either greeting me in this manner or acknowledging the fact of my existence. I glimpsed at the level of my Attractiveness with this NPC: 32 points and that was taking into account both the quest I completed for her and my Charisma. Not bad at all. In any case, she wasn’t about to sacrifice me.
“Sixth,” I replied unable to think of anything better and bowed in response.
The necromancer approached the altar and picked up a scroll lying there. A very familiar scroll. Cypro’s legendary songbook.
“You are very young, Lorelei,” Astilba went on. “And yet you managed not only to decipher my old friend’s songbook but master the spell that it contained. The question, however, is—will you manage to use your music to summon a soul from the Gray Lands?”
“I think I could.” I didn’t bother offering anything further because I hadn’t even tried using my newly-learned spell yet. Who knows, maybe there’s a snag there, some secret requirement? “However, my poor lute is too crude and common to perform such a summons.”
“I shall procure for you a worthy instrument,” the Sixth promised, “but I need you to summon the soul in my presence. Bardic magic is compatible with other forms of conjuring, and yet I was unable to understand the structure of this spell on my own. The best I can do is observe the channeling of power, study the magic that you wield and then recreate the same incantation in a spell of my own. As a reward, I’ll teach you one of my spells. Are you willing to help me, Lorelei?”
Quest available: Summons from the Gray Lands.
Description: Astilba wants you to summon a soul from the Gray Lands in her presence. Quest type: Unique, class-based. Reward for completion: +1,000 Reputation with the Renegades of the Hidden Forest, +15,000 XP, and one of Astilba’s spells. Penalty for failing or refusing the quest: -1,000 Reputation with the Renegades of the Hidden Forest, -30 Attractiveness with Astilba.
There wasn’t anything to consider really.
“Of course, oh Sixth, I will be happy to help you.”
The necromancer nodded as if my answer had never been in doubt.
“Excellent. Let’s move on to the instrument now. Our camp lacks a suitable luthier and purchasing it through our brothers who remained on the Tree would take some time. But it just so happens, that I have held onto an instrument for an old friend. If you manage to get the eid to produce a sound, we won’t have to await a delivery from master Pirus’ store.”
Quest available: Taming the Eid.
Description: Make the eid—one of Cypro’s legendary instruments—produce a sound. Quest type: Unique, class-based. Reward for completion: Hidden. Penalty for failing or refusing the quest: None.
Everything seemed to be working out suspiciously well. That’s a hell of a reward for casting a single spell, and it comes with the opportunity to play a legendary instrument that used to belong to the oldest bard of the Hidden Forest...And what’s the difficulty? What’s this taming deal? The eid isn’t some bull or mustang to need taming. More than likely it’s some exotic hurdy-gurdy that takes ‘a few drinks to figure out’ as Beast liked to say about any instrument that had more (or, for that matter less) than his four string Ibanez. All right. In any case, I won’t risk anything if I fail this quest.
“I have never seen an eid, but I can try to...uh...tame him.”
The Sixth hummed to herself for some reason but didn’t say anything more. She gestured me to wait and left the hall. I fought my desire to touch the altar, walk around the etched symbols and stick my curious nose in all the nooks and crannies. This isn’t meatspace of course, where (were it even possible) poking around the palaces of power would end in tears, yet still, I didn’t feel like risking Astilba’s good graces. Who likes having a guest wander around rummaging in their cupboards when they’re out of the room? As a result, all I could do was look around, recording everything on my camera.
I didn’t have to wait long. The Sixth returned with a large vegetable cocoon in her hands. Not a bad case for this eid, it catches the eye. All that remained was to figure out what the eid actually was. Astilba dispensed with any further drama and suspense. The necromancer recited a spell, touched the cocoon with her hand and it opened, revealing its contents.
It’s not like my knowledge of acoustic instruments was exhaustive, but it was ample enough to understand that if this thing can produce music, then it’s entirely due to magic. A body of leaves without the slightest hint of a sound hole, the fretboard’s heel growing right out of the body, a smallish growth where the bridge is supposed to be and as for the strings themselves...they were neither steel nor nylon and not even the sinew of some legendary dragon. More than anything else, they reminded me of the whiskers of some coiling plant, stretched taut. The pegs were made from pine (or perhaps cyprus, I’m not much for wood) cones.
Mmm...yeah....It’s not much of a surprise that not just anyone can play this strange invention of the devs. I too feel a bit at a loss. But okay. There are plenty of players who run around this place armed with swords that are larger than they are—why can’t I jam out on some botanical Stratocaster. What’s so complicated about it? Pick it up and play—that’s the extent of it. Thinking such happy thoughts I picked up the instrument.
You meet a hidden requirement of this quest: Master of String Instruments.
Please confirm that you wish to enter the ‘Intermundis’ location.
What’s this Intermundis place?
Confirmed.
Chapter Four
The first thought I had upon entering the new location was that there had been some glitch in the game. I was surrounded by a white blaze that roiled in constant motion. A milky ether whirled and tumbled all around me, triggering nausea and dizziness. Thankfully the game’s interface remained motionless, a single island of clarity and regularity in the constantly changing world around me. I shut my eyes and breathed in and out several times. I felt a little better. My nausea ebbed and I regained the ability to think a bit.
And so. I am in some kind of quest-based location. A strange location. What I can do here aside from throwing up what I’d eaten wasn’t clear. But logic suggested that since this quest was connected with the eid, who remained in my arms, then I should focus on the instrument. After all, I still need to learn to play it. So what does it matter where I do this—in the forest or in this vomit comet.
I was forced to open my eyes after all: It’s very difficult to play an instrument you’re unfamiliar with without being able to see it. I tried to look only at the eid, ignoring the white vortex, and gradually I ceased to notice it entirely. A close examination of the instrument did not enlighten me about the bridling procedure. What am I supposed to tame here, when I’m holding what amounts to the weirdest guitar in the world. Recalling a phrase from an ancient joke—‘there’s no time to think, you have to jump!’—I placed the fingers of my left hand on the fretboard and strummed the strings with my right, fretting several chords. The eid produced a strikingly deep and clear sound and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the white vortex twitch.
I halted my experiments and, tak
ing ahold of myself, looked at where I had seen the odd motion. Alas everything remained as before: a dizzying vertigo. I concentrated once more on the eid and promised myself that I would hold off from enjoying the local landscape. I’d be happy to rip off the hands of the jerk that thought up this Intermundis—right down to his knees. Perhaps someone wasn’t well after an intense drinking binge and decided to recreate his feelings in VR. Fifty shades of nausea, or something like that.
I brainstormed a dozen or so stinging epithets for the dev in question and, having blown off some steam, turned back to the eid. On the whole, the problem wasn’t such a complicated one. The fretboard was a bit too long and there were twelve strings like a concert guitar, but nothing radically new. A little practice and my fingers were soon finding the right frets. So what’s the taming part all about?
If Master of String Instruments was a hidden requirement, then I suppose I have to do better than finger some chords and play a cogent piece too. I didn’t attempt anything fancy and decided to try one of the fantasy songs I had learned especially for the gaming audience, one composed by some musician larpers. Their oeuvre was all over the web but I downloaded several greatest hits albums in this genre and chose the songs that would sound best on lute.
I liked this song. It had that special, elusive magic which took its listener to the nonexistent world of fairy tales. Perhaps a sad one, but beautiful and magical. In addition to this, the very name of this place, Intermundis, forced me to recall a song about the intersection of worlds.
The beautiful ballad of love and separation, of traveling between worlds, was captivating. Every musician tries the song on himself, for a short time living as the protagonist, living the song, believing in it. You can’t instill true passion or sincere feelings into your performance without this. If you don’t believe in what you’re singing, the listener won’t believe it either. So I too transformed into a wandering minstrel, suffering from the many separations in his life.
A Song of Shadow (The Bard from Barliona Book #2) LitRPG series Page 5
