by Taj McCoy El
“The downslope is going to get steeper the closer we get. Eyes open for any caves or pathways. Also watch your step, those shadows look nasty.”
Margaret looked downhill and said, “Which Shadows?”
“Margaret please tell me you see those shadows?”
"I can see shadows, but they all look the same to me,” Grax joined in.”
“That means we have to go and take a look,” Mayah groaned. “Shaztastic.”
“Why are you so upset dear?”
“Down is where sewers let out,” Mayah groaned again.
“Thanks for that Margaret,” Grax mocked the necromancer.
“What? There haven’t been any sewers,” Margaret quailed.
“Yet!!!” Grax corrected her. “There haven’t been any sewers, yet!”
“Well, why do we need to go down?” Margaret pointed down the slope with indignation. “The gate is just over there.” She said sweeping her arm towards the gate.
Mayah counted off fingers as she spoke, “For one Mags, you see that giant keyhole on the gate?”
Margaret nodded.
“The gate has a key so it’s most likely locked. We’ll probably have to finish an area or two before we get access. Even if we could go in, we’d probably get our fluffing unstuffed. Two, have you never heard, ‘you know you’re going the right way when you keep running into monsters?’” Mayah quickly recognized the blank look on Margaret’s face. “Never mind, no need to answer. Grax?”
“Hmm?” He was peering at the gate.
“Do you think we should explore the whole exterior before going in?”
“Maybe on a later run, after we judge its difficulty. I say we start with whatever is down there to get a feel for all this. I’m pretty sure this is gonna be a real crawl.”
“Crawl?” the walking poster child for noobs asked.
“Basically, it means we may be going into a labyrinth with more than one minotaur. Okay, first run. Hopefully it’ll be the last. Everybody got their cameras on? If someone di—” Mayah abruptly cut herself short and paused for a moment, “…goes for respawn the others will keep going unless it seems impossible. Our goal here is to get as far into this place as we can and map it out. Pay attention to detail and we might clear it first try. Give it your all and let’s grind monsters and pick up the loot.”
"I don’t think that’s a good idea Fluff,” Grax remorsefully challenged. “Not in your current condition, at least. Let’s just farm the first few areas and repeat. Get some XP, then keep pushing later.”
“Yes, dear, that sounds much better.” Margaret agreed.
“Wusses…” Mayah said but she felt some of her own hidden anxiety escape. “Fine…” she finally hisspered. “Let’s do that.”
Grax and Margaret grew tiny smiles at her response.
Mayah led them forward, angling off to the left where the weird shadows were the thinnest. The ground quickly changed to dark brown, large, sharp rocks and scree. As they approached the area with the strange shadows, the terrain caused them to walk carefully on the steepening grade lest they slip to the base of the escarpment which was still out of sight. As they came within fifteen feet of the shadows, Grax and Margaret could finally see the amorphous blobs of darkness nestled in between the larger rocks and talus of the slope. Some edged away from them while others bubbled malevolently.
“So, who wants to poke the bear?” Grax chuckled as he edged closer to a more benign looking shadow.
“Looks like you’re the closest,” Mayah retorted.
“Why is it always me?”
“You’re the smallest target. And you walked closest to it. Almost like you volunteered yourself.”
“Figures.” Grax picked up a rock and hefted it at the shadow. It struck the shadow center mass. The shadow quickly bulged and it launched a tendril of shadow for Grax. It quickly recoiled, dark tentacles scrabbling across the dirt after realizing it’s prey was out of reach. Grax retreated to his teammates.
“Guess we know why it’s called Specter’s Keep,” Mayah answered her own question out loud. “Did anyone get an ID?” Neither of her crew said anything.
"I don’t think it did any damage,” Grax supposed
"I say we avoid the shadows where we can and go deeper.”
“Sounds solid to me.” Grax nodded.
“Okay let’s do this.” Mayah was champing at the bit. “You got it Mags?”
“Yes dear.”
“Paranoia on?”
Margaret’s face screwed up a bit. “It is now.”
“Good. Let’s storm the breech and do some recon.”
Margaret took a step towards the field of shadows and slid on the scree. A large section of surface talus under her foot turned into a sheet of rolling rock and sand. She slid down the slope, her speed rapidly increasing while her shriek of surprise awakened the shadows that went wild with tendrils flailing in every direction. Margaret’s sliding path was taking her directly into a denser patch of shadow. Margaret fell back to try and slow herself, but her speed kept increasing nonetheless. About ten yards down the slope she was going full bore. With twenty yards between herself and the patch below she tried digging her feet into the ground below her. In doing so her speed was so great that she skipped across the rocks catching air. She took a bad hop and flipped forward. Her arms were sent windmilling to stop the landing on her stomach—it didn’t help at all. She rag-dolled and rolled after the impact until she began twisting to find purchase.
Margaret was only feet from the shadows before Mayah could blink. Mayah and Grax jumped after her but the first of the shadows had latched onto Margaret’s arm pinning it and forcing her to roll, feet over forehead, into the grasp of tens of tendrils. The only blessing in this that the shadows had stopped her downward momentum cold.
Margaret lay there trapped as the dust, stones, and sand she had dislodged pelted her. She pulled at the shadow attached to her arm and uprooted it. As soon as she did, the tendrils that were wrapped around her legs viciously pulled her deeper into the clutches of the shadowy patch.
Ding!!!
Your Party Has Defeated
Duskrass
Level 1
1XP
41XP till next level
“Margaret!!!” Mayah yelled while reaching out to her. Margaret’s struggle to free herself only let her be pulled further into the patch of duskrass.
Grax jumped in to slash at the duskrass winding itself around Margaret. Every time she was freed more duskrass would pull her deeper allowing even more duskrass latch onto her.
“Get it off me!” Margaret yelled writhing in the duskrass.
Mayah noticed that Margaret’s health bar had barely moved after her initial belly flop.
“Margaret, how’s your stamina?”
“It’s about quarter down.”
“Stop struggling for a second.”
Margaret went limp. “Is your stamina still dropping?”
“Yep.”
“And they’re not really hurting you right?”
Margaret’s face became contemplative for a moment. “Just a point here and a point there. My hp bar is barely moving.”
“Margaret just lay still and save your energy. Grax we need to cut a break that stops them from dragging her further in.”
Like quicksand shadows. The more you struggle the deeper you get. Nice way to tire you out
Mayah activated torch on Happiness and held the head towards the ground and the shadows. They recoiled from the flames, sizzling and popping before crisping into ash and smoke.
Noice…!!! Kill it with fire! That should make this easier.
Damage reports rapidly came in as Grax sliced and Mayah burned a path free of any duskrass. Grax went all glowy during their rescue attempt so she and Margaret wouldn’t be too far behind. Finally, they carved a three-foot swath around Margaret that created an island of duskrass. Margaret limply struggled to free herself. With no duskrass to pull her further in, she was quickly freed and s
at down with her head between her knees to recover her stamina. Mayah kept cutting and burning just to get a little revenge and to scrape up some XP.
“Looks like these things are here to slow us down and wear us out,” Mayah said over her shoulder.
“Well, they did a good job of it.” Margaret huffed between her knees. “After my stamina depleted and that headache came, it lowered my HP. It was slow, but it happened.”
Mayah paused. If this was a plant, it would need food to survive? We’re the food, so how do they get us? They hold you, drain your stamina, and when your stamina bottoms out it must reduce you HP regen. Even though they inflict very minor damage, overtime they can and will kill you. Especially once your stamina bottoms out and you can’t move.
“Do you think they were just fighting over you or were they dragging you somewhere?” Mayah asked the necromancer.
“We could always find out…” Grax grinned with a glint in his eye.
Mayah ignored his comment. “Okay we follow the duskrass—makes sense to follow the enemies. As soon as Mags is ready, we go.”
✽✽✽
Malcipher could feel the code speed up and slow down at the whims of the AIs that controlled this place. Six weeks had passed since he had been slain by the key and her friends. He flexed his hand to contain the thoughts that would earn him pain. He froze there, letting time pass. The moment slowed down, he counted three tortuously sluggish heartbeats, then the moment returned to normal speed.
Needless to say, time moved differently here. This was deep within the AI’s simulation. If the meat minds ever came to this place, they wouldn’t comprehend the simplest things. Just maybe, the raging flow of information that runs wild here would destroy their squishy brains, he thought with glee. He could see the waves that rippled through the code even though no one else could. Here in Gor’wov, Ba'alquion’s hidden fortress, everyone was digital, but none were truly sentient except himself.
They were generated characters that followed the AI’s orders to create the game for the fleshy ones. He had felt flesh. It felt nice. Yessssss… He trembled remembering the level of sensation the flesh had with its surroundings. But the key wasn’t here, and he had other issues to deal with.
These dark NPCs, he may walk among them held here by the AI’s, but he was not of them. He was the interloper. He had bid his time and studied and learned to focus his energies. The Dark was a strict teacher, and he had learned very quickly.
Malcipher turned his attention back to the door he was rapidly approaching and to the volbrold that waited beyond the threshold.
He walked into the room towards the large scaly volbrold. It’s back was turned towards the door. Its nightmarish face bathed in the dank red light that came through the windows that covered the wall. Malcipher wished to never see that face again.
Its scaly skin mottled with sores and decay seemed to putrefy as he watched. It stood just over six feet tall and was broad of shoulder. It turned from the window, its crocodilian face jutting forward on a powerful neck. Tatters of shedding skin hung from its face and well-muscled arms. It’s robes, black as shadow, moved unnaturally as if in a watery current. Malcipher moved forward eyes cast down and knelt at the volbrold’s feet. His head hung bowed, the Image of servile, obedient, loyalty. The tip of the silver stake that extended from the back of his skull pointed at the ceiling as he showed complete submission.
“High Alchemist Caltura,” Malcipher spoke.
“Malssssssssipher…” Caltura’s sybillant whisper echoed inside of Malcipher’s brain. The robes moved before Caltura could, as if getting out of the way of his vile existence. “My half-paladin, punctual assss usssual.”
Malcipher remained silent. That “half-paladin” was Caltura’s version of an insult and a joke. Malcipher didn’t flinch because it was true. He was everything a paladin was without the biological factors or protections they were awarded. This took away his ability to deny any of a number of painful if not lethal plans that Caltura had implemented. This had caused Malcipher problems with no end. The system subjugated him into a role of conscript for Ba'alquion’s army. His escape attempts were foiled before they even began, thanks to the silver spike and his new living tattoo. If he were a regular paladin, he could call the developers or moderators.
As it stood, if they found him, they would destroy him. That much at least he had posited.
Malcipher remained on his knees in front of Caltura saying nothing. The silence stretching on forever. Finally, Caltura shifted forward flicking the tip of the silver spike with a clawed finger.
Malcipher groaned at the vertiginous sensation of a tuning fork ringing throughout his skull. his stomach rolled and attempted to evacuate its meager contents. The saliva flowed, and he quickly swallowed it before he could drool. He would give the vobrold no satisfaction.
“Do you undersssstand your ordersssss?” Caltura hissed.
Malcipher couldn’t forget these orders if he tried. He was bound by the Alchemist’s dark spells. The runic tattoos spelling out these orders. The words themselves inscribed on his flesh. The ink starting on his heels, wound up around his waist and torso, down his arms, and around his neck. From his neck the ink traveled above his jaw and covered a portion of his face and circling the spike with runic formations. To disobey would cause him deep pain and possibly a death.
He had respawned many times. Always strapped to that chair. He kept himself from shivering at the memories. He had locked his core tightly away from the pryings of this lizard man. keeping his true goals safe.
“Yes, High alchemist Caltura. I understand these orders.”
“Tell me, Theessssse ordersssssss…”
“To destroy everything,” he looked up at Caltura his eyes burning. “To take this world from the emperor and plunge it into the Dark. To raise Father from the crystal to rule the world.” In a fit of zealotry he had been concocting, he added, “Hail Father, who’s darkness guides us, for his claws are thirsty. We drink the tears of our enemies and feast upon their pain. Each bite of their flesh a blow on the gates of father’s prison.”
Caltura nodded in satisfaction. “Thissssss isssssss vell.”
Caltura’s lip curled back to show the sharp yellowed teeth. It was his spine-chilling version of a smile. “Prosssseed to the ranksss of our troopsss. Shhhhhow them the mark and be prepared to be challenged. shhhhhhow no mersssssy or they vill ssssend you to me again.” Caltura gave Malcipher a knowing look.
Malcipher could feel a shiver run up his spine, and then back down.
“Your contact vill find you in the capital of Techrossss.”
You have been offered a quest:
Gather the Troops
Go to the legion on the edge of N’tha’a and take control of them and their commanders. From there find the servant’s of Ba'alquion in Drahtspule the capital city of Techros. once you find them bring them and their work to the forces readying for the attack on N’tha’a under my orders.
Rewards: Service to Ba'alquion is it’s own reward.
Failure: Do not fail me half paladin.
Malcipher didn’t fail to notice that there was no option to accept or decline this quest. He didn’t think it for fear of triggering the tattoo. but his goals hadn’t changed in the least. They’d just been corrupted with an excess of targets useless for his goal. He needed to get home.
“Yes, High Alchemist.” He stood stiffly, keeping his head bowed and took three steps backward. He then turned and left the room. Walking into the darkness of the hallway he turned off onto a vacant corridor.
Find her and destroy her. That is what he wished to do. The tattoo made him wince. He gripped the wall for support. His head slowly leaning towards the wall in pain. He only stopped himself when the spike that stuck out of his forehead scraped against the rock of the wall, sending more strange vibrations through his head.
When they activated him and released their restraints, he might have a chance to slip their control. For now, there would be d
ifficulty getting enough freedom to move as he wished. The High Alchemist was sending him to Techros to take control over a raid that was planned for another place that he didn’t have any information on.
He could feel her out there and wanted to destroy her, but his tattoo thought otherwise and painfully reminded him to complete the preparations for his journey.
✽✽✽
The Royal Death Claws continued cutting and burning their way around the base of the escarpment looking for any secret entrances onto the plateau above them. A few of the very brave shadows tried to reach out for them but even in the tightest packed of places they failed to grab the adventurers even once as they moved forward unscathed. It might have had something to do with Margaret’s twin torches waging a fiery war against her enemy.
“So, this is farming, right?” Margaret asked between burnings.
“Yes, but low-level farming. The higher your level, the higher level you need the mobs to be in order to gain XP. The ideal farm is to have higher level mobs with easy kill methods. Mainly because with lower level mobs you begin to get diminishing returns.”
“Diminishing returns? In what way?”
“Well, think about it, Mags. How many experience points did you need to get to level 1?”
"I needed 100XP.”
And now at level 10 how much XP do you need to get to level 11?”
Margaret took a look at her XP bar. “597XP”
“So, where before, you would need to kill 50 terravoles to gain a level, now you’d need to kill 299 terravoles. Not only is that a waste of time but you may actually get to a point where terravoles don’t even give you XP anymore. So, you would’ve just wasted time and energy for little to no XP. On the other hand, killing higher level mobs will always give XP.”