Viridian Gate Online- Vindication

by N H Paxton

  “Eh, what is made of?” I decided to see if there was a structural flaw or defect I could take advantage of, so I probed the entire portion of the door that I could reach.

  It was a solid piece of work, clearly intended to keep things out—or perhaps in. That thought sent a worrying chill down my spine. The door was completely sealed. There wasn’t even a bit of a crack or opening anywhere that I could try to work, even if I had the necessary tools.

  I took a step back and leaned against the wall again, staring at the monstrosity before me.

  “What do at doors? We knock!” I charged at the door and began banging on it with everything I was.

  Aside from a small amount of dust that decided to light on my shoulders, and then in my lungs, setting me into a coughing fit, I accomplished nothing.

  I slid down against the door, my Stamina exhausted and my body fatigued. I reached into my pack for something to eat, and found that I had already eaten everything I had brought with me. I cursed the air, the door, the walls, the floor, and myself, for not being better prepared.

  “Sure, Vlad, go into deep, dangerous sewer with only couple rations, expect to be out in a day, no problem.” I shook my head.

  I sat for about an hour before I decided to try something completely and totally unconventional. I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and begged it to open.

  “Open, please?” I asked, with a hint of desperation.

  The door remained completely unmoved by my act of absolute humility.

  I decided I didn’t try hard enough, so I asked louder. “Open, please!?”

  The door still refused to open, the cold unyielding stone standing there. I wasn’t quite certain, but I thought the door was laughing at me. It threw me into a rage, and I went back to pounding on the door with the fury of a man driven insane. “Stupid door, stupid door! Goddamn you!”

  Reality always become Eventuality...

  I FINALLY GAVE UP, after some considerable time and effort. I threw my arm back and gave one last, furious pound on the door. It did just the same as all of the other pounding: nothing. I flung my hands up into the air in outright frustration and took to pacing the hallway.

  “This stupid, goddamned door!” I shouted into the air as I shook my now sore and battered fist at the sky.

  I leaned against the wall after another lap of the tunnel width and slid down to the floor, my breath coming in long, shuddering gasps. I was furious, completely stuck, and entirely without hope. I ran my hands through my hair, a sensation I had started to greatly enjoy since entering V.G.O., and hung my head low.

  “Why did I choose this?” My voice was hollow lacking conviction. I was drained, exhausted, and hungry. “Vlad is smart man, could have perhaps survived outside—necht, had to spend all time and money on stupid capsule. Not even Russian make, a shit American one. Now, am stuck here in sewers, can’t even get a good bowl of borscht, by myself, forever.”

  I was starting to break; everything inside me wanted to just give up. I pulled my knees to my chest and pressed my eyes closed as I laid my head against my knees.

  I heard the sound of exaggerated footfalls and immediately grabbed the dagger at my hip. I propped myself into an awkward defensive position and brandished the clumsy weapon in the general direction of the noise.

  “Leave me alone.” My Russian accent was severely thickened by my anger and fear, both of which were in full effect. “You bastards had fun already, leave me be.”

  “Hey, I don’t know who you think we are, but we’re not them, and we’re not here to hurt you.” A tall Murk Elf, attired in some kind of chain armor and heavy leathers, spoke gently. He wore a cowl and had a nasty-looking hammer hanging off his belt. He had his hands up in the air, showing that he wasn’t trying to be openly hostile.

  The Wode with dusty blond hair off to his side looked like a bit of trouble. I watched them through squinted eyes. After a few tense moments, I gave a curt nod, sliding the dagger back into its sheath.

  “Apologies, has been bad couple days. Imperial-aligned players keep finding, killing me. Had one lo—” I stopped, then changed my mind. I didn’t feel right sharing details about Ina with complete strangers. “Had one friend, NPC, killed him too.” I let my head hang a bit, thinking about having lost Ina for a second time in my life, but I had, perhaps, found hope. “Now, am by self, have almost no money, gear as you see, and stuck at door.” I turned and hammered the door with my closed fist. I was so tired of this damn door! “Have one final quest to become specialist, but no way to get done.”

  “Why do these people keep killing you?” The Murk Elf, who had stepped closer to me, but not so close that I felt threatened, looked honestly concerned for me. I remained skeptical, but I thought I would consider the situation and try to get to know these two people.

  “Imperial-aligned players.” I spat on the floor. “They are going through town, punishing Traveler who refuse to join Imperial faction.” I clenched my fists in anger, feeling rage welling up inside me again. “NPC, they seem to get pass, but all others have target on backs. Most people sign up or move on. Vlad?” I pointed to myself with a thumb, accidentally making them aware of my name. “Cannot leave, need to get specialization first. Only way is to handle things in Plague Tunnels. First chance, I leave. Now, if you are Imperial, kill Vlad and be done. I’ve things that need doing.” I squinted my eyes and raised an eyebrow with suspicion, but neither of them moved to attack me.

  The Wode with the sandy hair spoke first, his voice laced with some kind of accent, maybe Southern European, almost British.

  “Bollocks, I like this guy.” The Wode tossed the Murk Elf a half grin, then he spun around to me. “Got some stones on you, haven’t you? Well, you just happen to be in luck, friend. You’re not gonna even believe it, but this bloke right here”—he jerked his head toward the Murk Elf, a grin that could have slain a snake stretched across his face—“why, he’s none other than Grim Jack Shadowstrider. Leader of the Crimson Alliance, which happens to be the only Rebel-aligned Traveler faction in all of Eldgard.”

  Before he could finish, my eyes went wide. This man, this Murk Elf, was the fool who had created a faction in opposition to the Viridian Empire. I remembered his name from the message I had received on my way to Rowanheath. He didn’t look like much to my eyes, but maybe—just maybe—he was more than he appeared to be.

  “At least,” the Wode continued, “for the time being.” He stared at me as though his showmanship should cause me to fall over myself to praise the man.

  I just stood there, weighing my options, my face neutral. The silence stretched on for a long minute as I argued internally about just leaving, just throwing my hands up and walking away. Maybe I could keep being an engineer under the radar, find a place to live nice and quiet, get away from Almaz-Antev and their schemes.

  “This is true?” The words slipped from my mouth of their own accord, without a thought on my end. Damnit, Vlad, lead your mind! At least the words were dripping in suspicion. “You are Rebel faction leader?” I tilted my head to the side, trying to make my audible suspicion match my thoughts.

  The Murk Elf, Grim Jack, stood there, his stance wide. He had a kind of ferocity to his person, some kind of energy that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He may not have looked like a powerful leader, but there was definitely something about him.

  “Now, as you might imagine,” the Wode pushed the conversation forward, “we’re sorta the underdogs in the current situation, and we’re looking for people just like you to join our cause—” He pointed both of his index fingers at me, and I interrupted.

  “Like me?” I could hardly believe it. I fiddled with the knife at my hip, the little hand crossbow on my other side. I folded my arms over my chest, then leaned back a little ways.

  I thought about telling them my situation, but thought better of it. If these people, especially this Wode, were capable folks, well, maybe I could get out of here and get myself on a good path. Maybe I could
do good things. But they didn’t need to know everything. They seemed decent enough, but I didn’t know them nor did I have reason to trust them. Besides, in Russia, trust is expensive. And maybe—just maybe—if they didn’t consider me a threat, they wouldn’t kill me. I spun a quick lie.

  “I’m a level 4 Alchemist with no money, weapons, skills, or combat abilities.” I shook my head as I stared at the ground. Had they bought my act that I was a measly level 4? I was level 10 at this point, but would they know that? Would they be suspicious about me being an Alchemist if I didn’t perform alchemy?

  The Wode waved a hand through the air as though my protestations were simply a fly that was irritating him.

  “Trust me, friend, we’re looking for people exactly like you.” The emphasis was almost unnecessary—I knew they wanted to recruit me. “Now, as it turns out, we also have business in the Plague Tunnels.” The Wode pointed at the door looming in the background, its painful green light bathing everything in a putrid hue. “So, how’s about we join up, eh? You sign on with the Crimson Alliance, we’ll help you complete your quest as a show of good faith, then we’ll bring you back to our base camp in the Storme Marshes.”

  He was clearly trying to sweeten the deal, which didn’t bother me in the least. I had next to nothing, but I let him continue.

  “You’ll find it a much more agreeable place, I’ll wager. We can set you up with a place to stay, get you a decent meal to eat, even see you get out of that tattered garbage you’re currently sporting.”

  The Wode made a generalized hand motion that basically encompassed my entire person, which made me feel rather self-conscious. I wasn’t wearing anything impressive, but the attire I had been using for a while had a sort of emotional attachment to it. It had been given to me by Ina, and I wasn’t ready to throw everything of memory away. The pair of Crimson Alliance members had made me a considerable offer, but there was still the matter of the damnable door.

  “But, this stupid door.” My voice was weak; I didn’t really have any strength left to protest. I waved both of my arms at the door, flailing about in generalized frustration.

  The Wode shrugged, then sidestepped me. I didn’t even feel his passing. He ran his hands over the face of the blasted device. He pressed a couple places, traced a few of the runes, and then pushed his hand firmly against the center.

  As if by magic, the hall was filled with a deep click, followed by the sounds of stone and mortar breaking away. The door swung slowly outward, coating us in fine dust as it made its pass into a resting position.

  “A deadlock door,” the Wode said, like it wasn’t an issue at all. He was quite confident in himself, very egotistical. “She’s got a specialty lock built directly into the stone—you either need a town guard with the key or a world-class thief for a thing like this.”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had been doing everything I could think of to get that door open for hours. Then, these two sauntered into the tunnels, did a few minutes’ worth of talking, and then the Rogue opened the door without difficulty! I was half-smiling as I stared at the passageway behind the door.

  “Name is Vlad Nardoir, from Saint Petersburg. Is truly a pleasure to meet you. Now, how to sign up?”

  I was thoroughly impressed with Grim Jack and Cutter, who introduced himself after I had decided to join the Crimson Alliance. There was some formality involved, along with the swearing of allegiance, which I did without hesitation. I had no doubt that the Crimson Alliance would be my future. At the same time, I was sure that I was needed here. It seemed like the entire world was out to get them, from Cutter’s tales, which I suspected were partially exaggerated. He was a Rogue, which certainly explained the silent feet and the extremely sharp daggers he kept at hand. I had seen his kind before, but never on my side.

  “Storme Marshes are where?” I wanted to know some more information before we really got involved in the fighting and the chaos that surely awaited us further into the Plague Tunnels.

  “Ah, off to the south.” Cutter responded with a smoothness that couldn’t be matched by melted butter. “It’s a bit of a wet place, lots of rain and whatnot, but it’s got some really good points.” He looked about suspiciously as he spoke. I got the feeling that there weren’t too many “good points” to living in the marsh, which to my knowledge was a low-lying area that tended to flood often, carry disease, and hoard a collection of stagnant water and deadly insects.

  Cutter and Jack, as he told me to call him, “because the whole ‘Grim’ part is really just formality,” began to walk off down the tunnels as I had a brrring noise in my ear. I looked up and noticed there was a new personal message. I opened it, hoping it was some kind of welcome letter from the faction, but my heart sank as I read the headline for it.

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message - AA Missive 002

  Vlad,

  We have been informed that you have joined the Crimson Alliance, the diametrically opposed faction to the Viridian Empire. You had better have a good reason for doing this, as your mission was to join the Imperials. Expectations are absolute, and derivations from the agreed upon plan are unacceptable.

  However, as a result of your acceptance to join the enemy faction, you are now in a unique place to inform upon them, providing the Viridian Empire with insider details and the machinations thereof. As a result, we will withhold punishment for this gross misuse of Agency.

  Further deviations will not be tolerated.

  Stay Strong. Stay Wise. Stay Superior.

  —Almaz-Antev Weaponeers

  <<<>>>

  “Derr’mo,” I swore. “Bastards do not miss thing.”

  Thankfully, Jack and Cutter were out of earshot, otherwise they would have been a problem.

  “Eh, Vlad is genius, will find way to circumvent orders.” I shrugged as I loaded one of the last crossbow bolts I had into place, pulled the wire back, and hooked my crossbow back onto my belt.

  Things were about to get very interesting, and if I was right—which I typically was—Jack and Cutter would play a huge role in the destruction of the Viridian Empire. That was something I needed to see through to the end, a worthy goal if ever there was one. I smiled as I moved to catch up to the two of them. They laughed and chatted as they walked, and they seemed like excellent friends to one another. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was going to find something like that ever again.

  And Winner Is...

  THE PATH TO THE INNER sanctum, wherein waited my specialization, and apparently the resolution to Cutter and Jack’s quest as well, was chock-full of incredibly powerful enemies. I was grateful to have a pair of high-level friends to escort me through the zone. Though I had lied about my level, neither Cutter nor Jack seemed to be too concerned about the situation. Either they were unaware of my deceit or they figured I had my reasons. What with Cutter being a Rogue, I assumed he had his own secrets.

  I was caught off guard when there was an explosion nearby. Jack had walked close to a pile of bones, and it exploded. In what felt like slow motion, Jack was peppered with shards of bone, and a noxious cloud of gas expanded outwards from the epicenter. He fell back slowly, his face filled with pointy chunks of aged yellow shrapnel. Everything caught up at once as he hit the ground with an Urgh!

  “Is not every day bones explode for no reason.” I had been far enough behind Jack to narrowly avoid the outer radius. “Must be powerful magic, or very smart bomb designer.” I raised an eyebrow as Jack chugged a Health regen potion, tossing the vial behind him on the ground after it was drained.

  “Some kind of dark magic,” Jack said. “Whoever is down here definitely knows how to make traps. Cutter missed that one, and his trap detection is top notch.” He shrugged as Cutter came charging around a corner, his face screwed up in panic.

  “Got another group!” He skidded a short distance as he turned around and got ready for combat, his blades in his hands faster than I could follow. “Big one,” he panted as he leaned over on his knees, his daggers o
ut to the side. “They’ve got a couple of Rat Kings, too!”

  “Ah man,” Jack groaned as he unhooked the giant hammer he carried, smacking the haft against his palm.

  So far, we hadn’t seen a single Plague or Great Rat after having crossed the threshold into the Tunnels. It was all giant, shambling corpses with battered and broken weapons and armor or a zombie wizard that nearly killed me with a poorly aimed firebolt. Thankfully, they seemed extremely disorganized. Their capacity for intelligent thought was no longer functioning, so we had the upper hand in regard to tactics. Jack did his best to “tank,” as he called it, drawing the attention of the enemies, while Cutter flanked everything, doing his best to down them quickly. “DPS” is what he called it, something about doing a ridiculous amount of damage as quickly as possible.

  I just played support, and poorly at that. My crossbow bolts did next to no damage to these hulking beasts, so I just stayed as far from the battles as I could, while still being in range to receive XP.

  “They’re coming!” Cutter disappeared in a puff of smoke as Jack charged the group of crazy, misshapen creatures.

  Jack’s combat ability continued to impress me, especially when he manifested a giant orb of purple light around himself, which seemed to either deflect or absorb damage, I wasn’t sure which one. It may have been a combination of both. There was a massive sphere of flame heading straight toward him, but he stood firm. The flames splashed harmlessly about the ground where he was standing.

  I took the opportunity to attack when I saw confusion spread through the ranks of the beasts, nailing a [Zombie Warrior] in the skull with a crossbow shot. It collapsed to the ground in a heap.