by C. M. Carney
Alistair Bechard was the CEO of Sacrosanct Integrative Networks, an innovative virtual reality game company. He was also the High God Aluran, a man, who like Gryph, possessed a powerful artifact known as a Prime Godhead. It was a remnant left over from this universe’s formation, a mote of possibility that granted its bearer unlimited potential.
In theory, Gryph could one day become a god himself, assuming he lived long enough to unravel the mysteries of the Godhead. It wasn’t like the thing came with an instruction manual, and his only real source of information, Lex the banner NPC turned grumpy priest of a dead god, was missing.
And don’t forget that Aluran has had fifty years to level his Godhead, Lex’s sarcastic voice taunted from the depths of Gryph’s mind. “Yeah, wouldn’t wanna forget that,” Gryph grumbled and watched the excess carbon dioxide from his breath bubble through his air shield.
“Where are you, Brynn?” He’d wanted nothing more than to rush into the breach to find and save his sister, but he was enough of a soldier to know that patience and knowledge always defeated an ill-prepared action.
So, is that why you’re standing on the bottom of a lake hacking bits off a giant octopus conch? Lex’s snark-filled tone asked.
“Shut up, I’m looting. You of all people should love that.” Gryph frowned to himself. “It’s official, too much nitrogen in my blood has driven me nuts. I’m talking to my imaginary friend.”
The word friend caused his mind to rocket to thoughts of Wick. Is that why I’m down here, hacking into this dead crustacean, avoiding a hundred responsibilities that wait for me on the surface? He was aware that seeking solace for one’s grief through vivisection was not the sign of a healthy mind, but he kept on hacking, trying, and failing to push thoughts of his dead friend from his mind.
The fun-loving gnome warlock had been the first sentient being he’d met in the Realms, and despite his character flaws, namely that he spent his days summoning demonic entities, he’d proven a stalwart friend. A friend who’d died to save Gryph, murdered by the hand of the woman he’d loved. It hadn’t been her fault. She’d been under the mental sway of the onetime Prince Regent of Sylvan Aenor, a high elf named Myrthendir, a zealot so hateful that Gryph’s own Decree had scrubbed his true name from the memory of the Realms. Soon Myrthendir’s name would become dust to history, but the actions of the man, now known only as the Aberrant, would forever stand as a warning.
Gryph had wanted to comfort Wick’s mate Tifala, but she had isolated herself from everyone as she sat the traditional week long period of mourning that was the custom of her people. That isolation would end today, when she said her final goodbyes to the jovial gnome.
A red blaring in Gryph’s vision brought him back to the present and he re-cast Halo of Air with an irritated flick of his hand. Then he noticed the cloud of viscous ichor spreading over and around his air shield, the result of shoddy, distracted work. Gryph scowled in irritation and thrust the dagger into the carcass a half dozen more times, howling in hopeless rage. A moment later he stopped, his heart pounding and his breathing ragged.
As if mocking him, the tentacle he’d been hacking into swayed back and forth, dangling by the barest of calamari like strands, before it fell onto his feet with a wet flop, oozing muck onto his already waterlogged boots.
His first instinct was to stomp on the rubbery appendage, show the beast who was boss, but he thought of another use for it. Ancient warriors were known to eat the flesh of their enemies. It was a tradition Gryph would bring back tonight in honor of his fallen friend.
It looks like calamari. Hopefully it tastes as good. Gryph stashed the tentacle in his satchel with an evil grin. The bag was soul bound and much larger on the inside than the out. It also had a snazzy feature that auto sorted and preserved anything he put into it, which meant it wouldn’t cover his other belongings in fish guts.
Curious, he checked his prompt log to see if his efforts had garnered him any new levels.
Skill Level Alert.
You have reached level 17 in Air Magic.
You have reached level 14 in Harvest.
You have completed the Quest Harvest the Denizen of the Deep.
You have earned 25,000 XP.
You have Harvested items from the corpse of a legendary beast.
Reward: Extremely rare Crafting and Alchemy ingredients.
Not too shabby, Gryph thought. Then his rope returned and Gryph cast Animate Rope again and ordered it to drag the last of his harvested loot towards the surface. He took one last moment to enjoy the quiet solitude of the depths. He had one more mission before he returned to the surface, a mission he’d spent the last several days training for under Ovrym’s strenuous teachings.
It was time to talk with the Prime ship.
2
Gryph flexed his forearm muscles and a small buckler expanded from the bracer on his left forearm. If he was to risk dealing with the damaged mind that occupied the ancient Prime ship then he would do so fully armed, armored and ensorcelled.
The shield was a gift from Barrendiel, a small token of the man’s esteem after Gryph defeated the new Regent’s power mad cousin and saved all of Korynn from mental enslavement. He looked with appreciation on the silver metal shield. It was circular, save for a half moon groove cut into the top to brace his spear. He triggered his Identify talent.
You have been awarded an Expanding Buckler of Absorption (Block).
(Light Armor) (Life Magic)
Item Class: Major - Item Category: Active/Passive.
AC Bonus: +17 (12+5 Major Item Bonus).
Passive Powers.
Power (1): Damage Absorption. Absorbs 0.5% per level of Block mastery of the damage of any blocked physical attack and converts it into mana. It can store a maximum of 100 mana + 5 per level of Life Magic Mastery.
Active Powers:
Power (1): Spell Storage. The user can preload one spell (from any sphere of magic) per tier of Life Magic mastery into the buckler. These spells can then be cast on command using the mana stored by the buckler. Spell effectiveness is determined by the user’s current level in the applicable skill.
Current Absorption Rate: 3.5% - Max. Stored Mana: 135 - Current Mana: 135 - Spell Store Max: 1 - Current Spell: Flying Stalactite - Cool Down: 5 seconds.
This expanding buckler appears to be a small half-moon sphere that can attach to any bracer. With a flick of the forearm the user can expand the sphere into a full-sized buckler. It is a rare item given in gratitude by the El’Edryn of Sylvan Aenor for heroic service to the people of Sylvan Aenor.
Gryph was humbled by the gift, but the feeling dimmed upon seeing the sly smirk on the Regent’s face. Barrendiel insisted on training Gryph in the buckler’s use himself. Their first sparring session awarded the player with a new skill and a dozen bruises and small cuts. But at least the buckler’s storage capacity was maxed.
You have learned the skill BLOCK.
Level: 1 - Tier: - Base - Skill Type: Active
You have shown proficiency in using shields. These include bucklers, small shields, kite shields, large shields and tower shields.
Reduces damage from martial attacks by 1% per skill level.
Barrendiel demanded that Gryph train with the new shield at least an hour a day. Gryph was unsure if it was becoming for the leader of an entire people to get such joy from thoroughly beating an opponent, but the Regent only grinned when he mentioned it. The Steward Gartheniel, however, had not refrained from comment.
“A good leader does not sit on his laurels but endeavors to keep his skills in top shape, by all means available to him.”
“Including kicking some poor sap’s ass every morning?” Gryph had asked.
“Including said ass-kicking,” Gartheniel agreed, somehow making the word ass sound regal.
Barrendiel had laughed at that, and even Gryph welcomed the subtle humor from the Steward. Plus, if he was honest, he was seeing significant benefits from the beatings. In the week since he’d defeate
d the Aberrant, Gryph had leveled several of his martial skills, while slightly reducing the number of cuts and bruises inflicted upon him by the onetime ranger captain.
Skill Level(s) Alert.
You have reached level 7 in Block.
You have reached level 16 in Dodge.
You have reached level 21 in Staves/Spears.
You have reached level 21 in Light Armor.
You have reached level 7 in Life Magic.
As a bonus, his Life Magic had also shot up due to his frequent self-treatment via Minor Healing. Plus, the physical exertion helped take his mind off Wick, at least for an hour each day.
Gryph’s vision filled with another red warning, bringing him back to the present. He cast Halo of Air and extracted his spear from the sheath at his back. With a mental command, it extended to its full length. He'd been ignorant of that feature until Barrendiel revealed the trick to him during a sparring session. Gryph had not only felt the humiliation of being disarmed, but of having his own weapon turned on him.
The spear’s ability to retract made storage much easier, it also allowed him to use the weapon in close quarters combat, or in a cramped space, like say, one of the two underground dungeons he’d spent significant time in since arriving in the Realms.
He did a quick check to reassure himself that the spear’s mana storage was at its maximum capacity of 200. He’d put a standing order into the weapon’s interface to refill the mana battery with his own mana whenever he was not in a combat situation. That foresight had frequently proven invaluable.
Gryph reached down to his ankles, removed the weights that kept him submerged and stored them in his satchel. The bag’s weight reducing properties overcame the mass and Gryph let himself float into a horizontal position, buckler and spear at the ready. He sent a mental command to the Ring of Minor Air Shield and the field of solid air surrounding Gryph morphed into a sleek delta wing shape.
He cast Water Blast, but instead of expelling the water from his hands like a firehose, he redirected the jet to flow outwards from the bottom of his feet like a hydro jet. It pushed him through the water at a much greater speed than he'd ever reach on his own.
As he rocketed through the water, Gryph prepped for the encounter. He cast Mind Shield on himself, which enabled his Wisdom to temporarily borrow his highest attribute. Wisdom was the attribute that measured his ability to resist mental attacks, and while his was a respectable 27, his 65 points of Dexterity borrowed by Mind Shield boosted both his defenses and his confidence.
Confidence? You’re approaching an ancient living ship once piloted by the worst species in all the Realms during an invasion of enslavement, and you feel confident? A voice full of doubt said from deep inside him. The voice sounded a lot like Ovrym. It was not the first time the adjudicator had lectured him.
“It is too dangerous. You are arrogant if you think it is not,” Ovrym had told Gryph when he explained his intention to the adjudicator. Ovrym was a xydai, a race of stoic warriors once enslaved by the Prime. Gryph understood his friend’s feelings, but he needed the ship. Once he found Brynn he would need to get to her quickly and get out even quicker. His military service had taught him that few things were more beautiful than a perfectly timed evac helo. He hoped the ship would be that for him and his friends.
“It served the Prime,” Ovrym argued.
“It was a slave to the Prime, just as your ancestors were. I would think you, of all people, would have sympathy, or are you too clouded by hate to see your own bias?” That last comment caused cracks in the xydai’s normally reserved visage, and deadly intensity leaked through.
“You know not of what you speak player. You do not know what my people had to do to break free, nor what we did to those who could not.”
Gryph sighed. “You are right, I do not know, but I do know this; the Prime ship deserves the same chance to be free as the xydai.”
Ovrym’s anger faded, calmed by the warrior monk’s powerful will. “And what if you fail? I don’t mean if you die. We all know what happens then.”
The what happens then was that he would respawn in the Nexus of Dar Thoriim. Gryph was a player, and if he died, he would be reborn at his last respawn point. After defeating Myrthendir, Gryph's had set his respawn point to the Nexus, the control room of the ancient Thalmiir city.
“What if it takes control of you? What if it takes control of what is in you?” Ovrym said the last in hushed tones and looked around to ensure nobody was intruding on their conversation.
“Then you’ll be there to kill me … for a third time,” Gryph responded staring into the xydai’s yellow eyes. After a moment Ovrym agreed but insisted Gryph train to hone his mental defenses before making the attempt.
“Sounds fun,” Gryph said with an amused grumble and extended his right hand.
After a moment the xydai grabbed him by the forearm and an evil grin turned up his lip. “Yes, yes it does.”
Ovrym’s training of his mental defenses bore striking similarities to Barrendiel’s training of his martial skills, leaving Gryph with a massive headache each evening. But, as with the Regent’s training, Ovrym’s pummeling had concrete results.
Skill Level Alert.
You have reached level 12 in Thought Magic.
Gryph banished the memories of his training to a dark corner of his mind as he dove deeper into the lake. He spun his body and piloted his air shield submersible around a large outcropping of rock. He felt the alien ship a split second before its psychic assault jabbed at his mind, but this time he was ready for it and his defenses held. Thank you Ovrym.
He slowed and drifted to a halt. He could not see the massive ship beneath the layer of silt, but he felt it and waited until the creature tired of assaulting him. Eventually it went silent and after a moment’s hesitation Gryph cast Telepathic Bond.
Telepathic Bond allowed mental communication between two sentient minds. He'd made it the Boon granted to everyone in his Adventure Party, allowing instant communication akin to the radio and lattice network connections used by his unit back on Earth. The ability to coordinate the actions silently, over large distances had proved invaluable.
Ovrym had assured him that the access level of the communication was limited to the surface and could be cut at any time. It was no more capable of controlling his mind than a telephone back on Earth. But Gryph was not the most trusting sort, so instead of just opening his mind, he focused the line of communication into a thin beam and projected it at the ship.
Hello, can you hear me? Gryph sent.
3
YOU ARE NOT PRIME? came the reply, but this time Gryph was ready for the skull spitting intensity of the communication. It still hurt, but it was tolerable.
No, I am not Prime, and neither are you. Could you please not shout? It causes me pain. An odd, crackling filled the sudden silence of the link.
I Am Prime, the creature said in anger tinged with uncertainty, but Gryph counted the creature’s reduction in volume as progress.
No, you are not. The Prime enslaved you, as they tried to enslave me. But I fought to stay free. I can help you be free.
Free? What Is Free? I Must Await Return Of Prime.
The Prime will not return, Gryph sent, hoping the lie did not pass through the bond. You can be free, be an individual. I can help you.
You Are … Individual? You Do Not Hear Prime? You Are Alone?
I do not hear the Prime, but I am not alone, and you no longer need to be alone either. Gryph sent images of his friends through the link to show the ship that he was not alone. Ovrym and his training. Tifala healing him. Errat showing Gryph the proper way to craft an arachnid automaton. Wick flipping him the bird. The last image was accompanied by an unintended feeling of grief, and Gryph almost cut the emotional current out of the bond. But a surge of want came from the ship.
These Are … Friends?
Yes, did you ever have any friends?
I … Long Ago.
An image came to Gr
yph of a watery world orbiting a massive gas giant. He was moving through the water at incredible speed. To his left and his right he felt more than saw two more like him. Whale sized aquatic creatures that resembled manta rays. They leapt from the water and soared through the air of their world. The sun was distant and dim, but the light reflecting off the massive gas giant reminded Gryph of twilight over the ocean. Black scales shimmered in the light as the wondrous creatures sailed through the air, before diving back down into the water, casting the smallest of sprays despite their massive size.
This is where you are from? These were your friends?
Friends, Yes. But Also More.
Family, Gryph sent, his mind drifting to thoughts of Brynn, though he made sure not to send that to the ship.
Family. Yes.
Where are your family now?
Another image filled Gryph’s mind. The creatures swam and spun, this time one smaller than the others spun alongside two of the larger ones. This is its young, Gryph realized. He felt joy emanating from the creatures and Gryph’s heart grew heavy, for he was sure he knew what was coming.
Ahead of the school a pulsating point of dull gray light formed. Gryph had only moments to realize he was seeing aetherial magic, when the point exploded outward.
Shockwaves exploded from the fissure as it expanded into a rift in reality, something akin to the port gate he and the others had used to escape the Barrow. Through the shimmering hole in reality there was only black, but then something moved from that darkness and into the watery world.
Arboleth? Gryph sent, feeling intense fear and shock, despite already suspecting what would happen next.
