Scourge of Souls: The Realms Book Four: (An Epic LitRPG Series)

by C. M. Carney

  Prime, the ship sent, almost by way of correction.

  Pulses of light flickered across the surface of the aquatic daemon’s massive singular eye and then expanded outwards, cascading over the manta ray like creatures. They ceased all voluntary motion and drifted aimlessly as the arboleth approached. One by one the arboleth implanted the gentle aquatic creatures with one of its eggs, and one by one all three became …

  Prime, the ship finished for him. We Were Made Whole.

  The image changed to the same school as they left the oceans of their home world for the last time and sped into the deep darkness of space. There, they joined hundreds of others of their kind. They were all now ships of the Prime.

  They enslaved you. Took away what you were.

  A surge of anger pushed through the link, but Gryph’s mental defenses shunted it aside. We Are Prime, the ship sent, but it was tinged with just the briefest feeling of uncertainty.

  You were much more and could be again.

  Silence thrummed through the link, pregnant with anticipation. Finally the ship sent a single, quiet word. How?

  I will be your friend. Come with me to the surface. Fly again.

  Gryph felt a deep desire pulse through the link, but then a deep sadness.

  I Cannot. I Am No Longer Prime.

  You do not need the Prime to be whole. In fact you can only be whole without them. Be what you were meant to be.

  I Am … Changed. I Can No Longer Fly Without A Prime To Pilot.

  Another image brought realization to Gryph, one that gave him hope and made him fear. The arboleth had infected the ship with one of its eggs, but unlike the other species the Prime enslaved, the ship somehow retained a semi-separate identity.

  Can someone else be your pilot? Something that is not Prime?

  The link felt heavy as the ship silently contemplated this idea. Finally, a thought flowed to Gryph. Yes, I Could Meld With Another. Two Would Become One And We Could Fly Again.

  Information filled Gryph’s brain, not images or words, but a deeper understanding. Gryph knew what needed to happen to free the ship from its watery prison. It would need to bond with another sentient being, one willing to give up their body, their mind, perhaps their very soul to become something else. Every fiber of Gryph’s being recoiled at the idea. Who would possibly agree to that? Gryph thought to himself, making sure that it was not passed through the link.

  His thoughts may not have reached the ship, but the emotional context was hard to hide. To Gryph it felt as if the ship sighed through the link, knowing the gravity of the request. There Is No Other Way, it sent.

  Gryph exhaled deeply, letting his breath take his stress away and help clear his mind. I will try to help you, but it may take some time.

  I Have Been Here For Many Rotations. I Can Wait.

  You have been offered the quest Right an Ancient Wrong.

  You have the opportunity to help an ancient and majestic race reclaim a bit of what they once were. You have been tasked with finding a sentient being willing to bond with the damaged Prime ship, so that they can both become more, and the ship can fly again.

  Quest Giver: Xarian Leviathan Difficulty: Incredible - Reward: Improved relationship with the Xarian Leviathan. - XP: Unknown.

  Gryph swam closer to the ship’s resting spot. As the ship’s glistening scales came into view, he returned his spear to the sheath at his back. He hovered over the ship’s wing, the one that had been damaged when it crashed but was now whole and unscarred. It healed itself, he thought in amazement. The water shimmered and Gryph could feel the thrum of energy pulsing off the ship. With only the slightest hesitation he reached out to touch the creature’s hide. It was warm and felt both organic yet somehow metallic. A purr of contentment moved through the link, and the silt that covered most of the creature drifted upwards in the water.

  May I Analyze you?

  The creature only hesitated for the briefest of moments before a single word came through the link. Yes.

  XARIAN LEVIATHAN (Aberrant) – Level: 48.

  Health

  Stamina

  Mana

  Spirit

  21,754

  24,678

  21,678

  0

  Xarian Leviathan are native to the mortal realm of Xarias. These massive creatures have a threefold life cycle. They spend their first 1,000 years living in the vast oceans of the moon Xarias, during which time they develop their mana and learn how to use Water Magic. During this phase they grow and breed.

  Near the end of this phase they develop the ability to use Air Magic and to take to the skies, initiating the second phase of their life cycle. This second phase lasts somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 years, during which they begin to develop Aetherial and Thought Magic and hear the call of the aether.

  During this last phase they take to the space between the mortal realms exploring and experiencing. This last phase has no inherent time limit, but eventually all Xarian Leviathan feel the call to return to Xarian where they set a course into the atmosphere where their physical forms burn and die as their minds join the soul-mind of Xarias.

  This Xarian Leviathan has been corrupted by the Prime and been mutated into a Prime Strike Warship used for exploration and conquest. It is considered an aberrant and is not welcome back on Xarias.

  Strengths

  Immunities

  Weaknesses

  Unknown.

  Unknown.

  Unknown.

  Gryph’s heart broke reading the prompt. The Prime knew no end to their evil. He did not know what to say to this magnificent creature enslaved to evil. In the end he made it a simple promise. I will return, when I am able, Gryph thought.

  Thank You … Friend.

  With that, Gryph turned away and cast Water Blast, directing the jet to push him back to the surface. It took him only a few minutes to reach the surface and several more to reach his embarkation point near the newly rebuilt quay.

  Ovrym waited for him, his face stoic and his bow drawn.

  4

  Gryph pulled himself onto the quay and watched the xydai calmly draw the bow and take aim. Gryph stood still, hands raised above his head and let his friend ply the edges of his mind. After a moment the adjudicator lowered his weapon.

  “Greetings,” the xydai said.

  “You are a man of many words,” Gryph said, stifling a laugh.

  “Too many people talk too much while saying little.”

  “You’ll love my NPC then, if the bastard ever shows up. All he does is talk.”

  Ovrym let the tiniest of smiles curl his lip before clasping Gryph by the arm. “I am glad I do not have to kill you again.” Gryph returned the grip, and a moment later, Ovrym released him scowling down at the ichor that clung to his sleeve. Gryph shrugged in apology and then looked around.

  “Did you steal all my loot?”

  “I had several warborn take your ‘loot’ to storage. They are eager to find a place in this realm, a purpose.” A light wind flowed over Gryph and towards Ovrym. The xydai wrinkled his nose in distaste. “And they seem unaffected by ill odors.” Ovrym wiped the ichor from him as best he could with a small piece of cloth. “Your mission was a success?”

  “Partly,” Gryph said and caught Ovrym up on his encounter with the ship.

  “Then you were right, this creature was a victim of the Prime.”

  “It appears so, but I’m not sure how much it helps us. I cannot imagine anyone will bond with it.”

  “The Realms are a strange place.” A dark expression crossed Gryph’s face and Ovrym clapped him on the shoulder. “I am sorry. I know you hoped to enlist the ship’s aid to find your sister, but know this, you will have mine, whenever you need it.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Ovrym nodded and the two men walked in silence up to the city gates. Now that he was on the surface Gryph felt the weight of exhaustion push down upon him. He’d been a whirlwind of activity this last week and felt pulled
in a dozen directions at once. It hadn’t kept his mind off Wick, no matter how many mundane tasks he put himself to. He suspected it would remain so for some time to come.

  They passed between the high walls of the entrance to Dar Thoriim. Gryph looked up at the pair of massive stone Thalmiir that guarded the entrance to the once great dwarven city, sentinels from a time long passed. Gryph could see a scattering of figures moving along the hidden battlements that lined the statues.

  “Are those…?”

  “Warborn,” Ovrym acknowledged.

  “I’m not sure I like using them as labor. It seems too close to …”

  “Slavery?”

  “Yes.”

  “All people need a purpose,” Ovrym said. “They were made for a war that ended long ago.”

  “War will come. It always does.”

  “That is a sad truth my friend. Do not worry yourself over the warborn. They sent representatives to Grimliir to ask how they could help. The artificer organized them into work teams. He was most insistent they be treated the same as the rest of us. He has even granted them an area of the city to call their own.”

  “Grimliir is a good man,” Ovrym said, casting a sideways glance at Gryph. One that held that annoying quality people on Earth would call knowing.

  “Say what you want to say,” Gryph said, already dreading what he suspected was to come.

  “You’ve delayed the quest for too long. It is time for you to claim the city.”

  “I am no Thalmiir, and I have more pressing business. Let Grimliir rule.”

  “He is no ruler of men. He is a facilitator, and a damn good one. I know this is not what you want, but you are the best man for the job. And if you truly plan to take on the High God, you’ll need a power base, and an army. This city can provide you with both. But you need to claim it, tonight.”

  Gryph sighed and then the two men walked in silence until they passed through the main gate. As soon as he stepped over the threshold an odd sensation flowed through him, as if the will of the city itself were manifesting as a physical force, tugging him towards a destiny he did not want. He exhaled and turned to the xydai.

  “If I agree to do this, then I need something from you.” Apprehension stiffened Ovrym’s shoulders, and he gave Gryph a look of graceful indignation. “You will take command of our forces when the time comes.”

  “I am no general,” Ovrym said with a frown.

  “And I am no lord, but here we are.” Gryph thought he heard the xydai harrumph in annoyance, but repair activity all around them absorbed the sound.

  As they approached the end of the large entrance gallery, the sound of hundreds of small metallic feet caused the hair on the necks of both men to rise. Too recently, that sound had been a harbinger of danger. The reaction dimmed as Errat, bearing his trademark wide grin, came into view.

  “Hello friend Ovrym. Hello friend Gryph,” Errat said in a joyous voice, his childlike tone of glee so at odds with his massive, muscular frame. A metallic screech came from above and a blur of brass and silver flashed by Ovrym’s head, nearly making him dive to the floor.

  The blur sped to Errat’s outstretched arm and landed on a thick leather arm bracer. Sharp metal talons dug into the leather and found purchase. It was a large clockwork hawk made from the same materials as the other automatons. It screeched and Errat reached down and caressed the mechanism’s beak with one of his three thick fingers.

  “Good boy,” Errat said and a metallic cooing came from the machine.

  “Boy?” Ovrym said in a tone more irritated by his wounded pride than any real gender confusion.

  “Yes, his name is Flappy,” the warborn said with childlike glee. Errat walked up as proud as an eight-year-old with a new puppy. “Would you like to pet him?”

  Gryph grinned as Ovrym reluctantly stroked Flappy’s head. The bird lowered its head and several metallic feather’s parted and flowed like a real bird’s. Despite himself, Ovrym grinned. “You made this?”

  “Yes, with Gryph’s help.”

  “I was a simple assistant. The heavy lifting was all your doing Errat.” Gryph said, but a twinge of pride filled his voice.

  Errat raised his arm up and down, testing Flappy’s weight. “He is very light so that he can fly. There was no heavy lifting.”

  “It’s a euphemism … you know, never mind. He looks great.”

  Errat beamed with pride, but then Flappy squawked loudly, sparks burst from his head and he powered down. Errat’s joyful expression turned sour and he glanced at the others in embarrassment. “Flappy still needs work. Errat will fix him when I am able.”

  Gryph smiled and realized he was proud of the limited role he’d had in the bird’s creation. It had all been a part of fulfilling a promise Gryph had made to Errat. The quirky warborn’s army of arachnid automatons had been essential in the battle against the Aberrant and his enslaved minions the Dwellers in the Dark. He had made a Binding Vow to Errat to help him rebuild his many legged friends. Gryph had spent many an hour over the last week fulfilling that promise. He had always tried to be a man of his word, but here in the Realms promises, especially Binding Vows backed up and enforced by magic, rewarded one for promises kept and punished one for failing to do so.

  You have fulfilled the terms of a Binding Vow to Errat.

  You have fulfilled a promise and helped Errat rebuild his friends, the arachnid automatons.

  Reward: Increased Reputation by +2 points. XP: 10,000.

  You have discovered the Hidden Attribute Reputation.

  Reputation measures your trustworthiness and will aid in negotiations, bartering and alliances. Reputation is measured by a sliding scale from -100 to 100. Each point provides a +/- 0.5% chance to achieve your desired result when dealing with other people. Your actions determine your Reputation.

  Current Reputation: +22 (Well Regarded)

  Your word is your bond. Nobody likes a liar.

  The prompt had stunned Gryph. He’d always thought of karma as a pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo, but in the Realms, it was an actual measurable force that regulated how others regarded you. He’d have to remember that whenever a lie felt easier than the truth.

  The crafting had taken them nearly a week of long days. He’d found the monotonous task a comforting salve and gained a pair of skills from all the hard work.

  You have learned the skill RECYCLE.

  Level(s): 1-7 - Tier: - Base - Skill Type: Active

  You have learned how to reuse and repurpose materials. This is a skill that compliments all Crafting skills and the skill Harvest. It reduces the amount of materials needed for all other Crafting skills by 0.5% per level, each level in Recycle makes it 2% more likely that you will find useable materials during any Harvesting session.

  One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.

  As a 21st century Earth man, Gryph loved the idea of recycling and reusing. It would lower the cost and waste of any crafting venture he undertook in the future. If he truly was going to take control of Dar Thoriim, and it was looking like he was running out of plausible reasons to refuse, then small advantages would prove invaluable when scaled to the needs of a city.

  You have learned the skill ARTIFICE (SMALL AUTOMATONS).

  Level(s): 1-10 - Tier: - Base - Skill Type: Active

  You have learned how to craft and repair small automatons. Artificers create machines of war and machines of peace and are therefore both feared and loved. Design with care, for like children of flesh and blood, once an automaton leaves your embrace they become their own beings. Create with care.

  Each level in Artifice (Small Automatons) gives you a 1% chance to create an automaton with a special ability.

  Gryph had found the ominous warning to be jarring, but then he thought of scientists back on Earth and knew potential for abuse was inherent in every new technology. But then, it could also create wonders like Flappy.

  The mechanical construct was made of light metals and imbued with magics that made it capa
ble of flight. The mechanical bird had a phenomenal Perception courtesy of the glowing red eyes they’d re-purposed from one of the Large Imbued Rubies they’d got as loot from a Thalmiir Goliath. It was also smart enough to take directions from Errat thanks to the Level III Thalmiir Dynamo Core they’d used as the creature’s brain. When finished, Flappy would make an excellent scout on future missions. Errat claimed he only needed a few more days to perfect the automaton. Gryph’s experiences on Earth with drones had shown him how powerful a clear view of the battlefield was and Gryph had visions of a variety of automatons fulfilling a similar function.

  Gryph left his two friends and went to the port circle just inside the main gates to the city. A moment later, after a gut churning shift in reality, he was in the Nexus, the massive columned room that was the heart and soul of the city. It was the place Myrthendir had taken control of the black fog, a mind control weapon that had nearly given him complete domination of every soul on Korynn. The room gave Gryph the creeps.

  I will have to get used to it if I take control of this city, Gryph thought. The room was bustling with activity. The recent victory had stirred deep feelings of comradery among the people of Sylvan Aenor and scores of elves, dwarves and humans all worked together. He noticed that one species involved in the conflict was not represented. There wasn’t a single warborn in sight.

  Can you blame them? Most of these people had lost friends and family to the warrior automatons. However, they had been under the control of the black fog, a weapon Gryph was bound by Vow to destroy, and were no more at fault for the blood on their hands than Tifala was for Wick’s. He vowed to himself that he would never allow inequality, racism and bigotry to take root in his city.