Devon grimaced. Yeah, the stones were still a problem. Crafted by the ancient magi of Ishildar, the ancient carved monoliths provided magic to lift creatures from their simple animal ways, granting the beasts increased intelligence and magical powers. According to Greel’s recollection of the histories, the effects had been varied and wondrous. Rather than becoming human-like, many creatures retained their animal sensibilities while gaining a sort of deep wisdom. Others became walking, talking fuzzballs.
In any case, the reawakening of Ishildar had sent power back into the stones, but the Curse of Fecundity which still cloaked much of Ishildar and its surrounds in choking jungle also corrupted this magic.
Hives and nests of awakened creatures had attacked both Stonehaven citizens and the players from the nearby encampment. Devon feared that it was just a matter of time before one of her basic NPCs was slain by one of the corrupted beasts. And unlike the NPCs she designated as advanced citizens, there would be no way to resurrect them.
“I hear you. It’s a big problem. I should probably head back to the Drowned Burrow and inspect the one we broke in half.”
“As it happens, your lawyer friend and I made the journey to the Burrow already. We had some extra time while you were occupied in the underworld.”
Of course, Greel hadn’t mentioned any research into the shattered awakening stone. He probably wouldn’t unless she dragged the information out of him. “Oh?”
The woman sucked her teeth. “I had hoped that the breaking of the stone would have severed the network of power flowing between them. But I could still feel it pulsing beneath the stone’s location. Something like a ley line, I suppose.”
Well, that wasn’t an incredible surprise, Devon supposed. She’d hoped to cleanse the stone, not break it, and the game didn’t like letting her off easily. “Were you able to figure out how we can cleanse the others?”
“Well, yes and no. It’s complicated, and it’s left you with a dilemma, I’m afraid.”
Devon was confused. “What dilemma?”
The prophetess sighed. “I’m sure you must see the potential the stones represent. By examining the carvings in the lower areas of the Burrow, we concluded that at one point, its residents were an intelligent, creative, and peaceful society. When you broke the awakening stone, you stopped the corrupted magic from turning them into the sort of feral beasts that attacked the player camp. But you also…hmm…how to put this? You also removed the possibility of reawakening them properly.”
Devon sighed as the guilt hit. Now she got it. Cleaving the stone in two had broken its magic. Forever. Shavari’s description of the architecture jogged Devon’s memories of the etchings in the burrow’s lower reaches. Intricate murals had depicted tranquil scenes of the daily lives of the otterkin and muskrattons and their fellow morphs. What right did she have to take away their chance to regain that heritage?
“What if I’d found a way to cleanse the stone, instead? They’d be back to the uplifted creatures they once were, right?”
Eyes distant as if contemplating the answer, Shavari dropped to a crouch and pulled a blade of grass through her fingers. After a moment, Devon sighed and took a cross-legged seat beside her. Might as well avoid Fatigue gain while they were chatting.
“Frankly, I can’t be certain,” Shavari said. “The magic… It’s a different sort than the blessings bestowed upon me by Veia. But to ease your mind, I don’t think the stones can be cleansed while the curse holds. If you hadn’t broken the monolith when you did, the creatures from the Burrow would have finished with your small fighting force and then spread over the area like a plague. There were too many to fight.”
Devon shrugged. “That’s some consolation, I guess. Why can’t the stones be cleansed?”
“The corruption flows from a central point, likely anchored in Ishildar. I think you must find the remaining relic to eradicate it. But I do think—if you want—that I can help you follow the ley lines to the other stones. After a millennium buried by jungle, they likely have similar weaknesses to the one you found in the Burrow. A concerted effort could break them in a similar manner.”
Devon's shoulders sank with the weight of the choice. “But if I did that, the potential for them to lift up the creatures in service of Ishildar would vanish.”
Shavari nodded. “Regardless of whether you think intelligent races should alter the lives of simple beasts in such profound ways, there’s no question that the awakened creatures could aid us in the coming battle. I’ve heard you’re concerned about a demon force across the Noble Sea.”
Okay, when she put it that way, an army of awakened creatures would be nice to have around. But until the curse was lifted, they were a bunch of crazed freaks.
“How severe is the threat? Were there more attacks while I was away?”
Shavari shook her head. “I think, actually, that you may have crippled the magic by breaking the stone. While previously awakened creatures are still out there, it’s possible the stones aren’t producing any more corrupted beasts.”
“Possible, but not certain.”
“Exactly.”
Devon twisted her mouth, thinking. Was it better to secure the area and know that her people would be safe while she searched for the fifth relic? Or should she roll the dice and hope to restore the creatures to their original awakened forms when she took possession of Ishildar? If she managed to take possession of Ishildar, rather.
“How about you tell me what you know about the fifth relic. Maybe if I can understand how long it might take to find it…”
Shavari took a deep breath. “My knowledge is spotty on this topic, derived mainly from ancient texts written in a script we only partially understand. But from what I can best figure, you need to circle around or pass through Ishildar and begin searching north of the city. There’s another mountain range beyond the northern boundary, less hospitable than the Argenthal Vassaldom because the land is gouged by a maze of cracks and crevices so steep and sheer there’s no way up or down the walls. It’s said that someone could wander through the chasms for years and never cross her own path.”
Great. Devon grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”
Shavari smirked. “Fortunately, the griffon keepers of the Skevalli Vassaldom and their companion animals rarely ventured into the twisted crevices and gashes, and when they did hunt there, they typically traveled on the wing. I think it’s unlikely you’ll have to search the chasms. The Skevalli’s true home—and historic location of their vassaldom—is the Stone Forest that lies like a wedge between Ishildar and the maze.”
“Stone…Forest?”
Shavari shrugged. “An ancient place that once held trees the height of fifty men. The woods were petrified so long ago that we can only imagine how it must have looked. I don’t know much more about it. Though if the rumors are true, it’s a rather inhospitable place now, populated by drakes and wyverns and fire serpents.”
Devon groaned. “And let me guess. They’re probably resistant to fire damage…” Inside the Citadel of Smoke, she’d found out firsthand how difficult it could be to deal with fire-resistant creatures when much of her offensive arsenal was based in fire magic. She looked up toward the sky as if daring Veia to comment. Or failing that, waiting for a sarcastic remark from Bob.
Speaking of, where was the wisp? She hadn’t seen the glowing ball since it had helped her fool Zaa during the Trial of Ruthlessness in the Citadel of Smoke. She almost missed the obnoxious glowing ball.
“Unfortunately, my information is too sketchy to comment about any resistance to certain damage types,” Shavari said.
Devon shook her head. “It was something of a rhetorical question.”
Shavari hesitated for a moment before speaking. “In any case, that’s the best information I can offer. I hope it can be of some value to you.”
Shavari offering you a quest: Venture to the Stone Forest
Discover the ancient seat of t
he Skevalli Vassaldom, rumored to lie north of Ishildar.
Reward: You know the drill by now. Knowledge is power, right? Plus you can have a little experience if you succeed.
Accept? Y/N
Devon accepted the quest as she stood and stretched. In truth, the notion of heading up an expedition sounded incredibly refreshing. She had work to do here first, of course, but the thought of getting a quest party together and setting out had already set her pulse pounding.
She looked again at her messenger icon. It would really be nice to group up with Hailey again. The woman was probably busy with family today. If Devon hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days, she’d try dropping another line.
In the meantime…
Waving goodbye to Shavari, she headed off to find somewhere more private for leveling up her fricking Stealth skill.
***
“Hey, Bob?” Devon said as she skirted the inner wall of Stonehaven’s palisade. “Got any intel on the Stone Forest? It’s supposed to be some kind of ancient area of petrified trees.”
In a pair of acacia trees that were growing too close to the wall for Devon’s liking—she’d need to talk to Jarleck to make sure the roots wouldn’t undermine the foundation—birds twittered. Devon searched the branches for the wisp; it seemed to enjoy materializing inside foliage, perhaps to give the appearance that it was always present and watching.
“It’s sort of a guide’s job to know this stuff, you know,” she prompted, hoping for a reaction.
For a moment, she thought she glimpsed the wisp’s glow, but the light vanished so quickly she decided it must have been her imagination. She chewed her bottom lip. Bob’s absence really was strange. Usually, the wisp would have jumped at the opportunity to spout off its knowledge.
“Is it the backpack? Because if you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me while I’m wearing it, I get it. But I might point out that you aren’t exactly nondescript either.”
Still nothing. Before leaving the shade of the second tree, she stopped and peered into the branches. “Seriously, it really would help if you had any sage advice on the final relic. I swear I won’t drag you into the hell plane again if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Through the branches, she spied a flash of red and green. Moments later, a loud squawk made her cringe. She stepped deeper into the shadow of the tree, hoping Blackbeard wouldn’t notice her. Awakened by a corrupt stone, the parrot had been transformed to a monster the size of a pony, who, though he’d gained telepathic powers, couldn’t control his speech.
“Squawwwk! Thar be plunder, matey!”
//Hey nitwit. You’ll need a higher Stealth score than that to avoid me. Don’t think I didn’t hear what you and that prophetess were talking about.//
All right, so the bird had noticed her. That didn’t mean she had to acknowledge him, right?
// I thought you intended to fix my beak, not turn me into a birdbrain all over again.//
Crud. Right. Breaking the awakening stones would revert Blackbeard to an ordinary macaw. Which really wouldn’t be too bad, all things considered.
She heard the squirt of fertilizer being dispensed on the acacia tree just in time and sprinted out from beneath the branches before the drops started hitting the ground.
“You know it’s Christmas in the starborn realm?” Devon called up. “The usual custom there is to serve the largest roast bird people can find.”
Blackbeard adjusted his perch on the palisade and ruffled his feathers. “Coming about. Coming about. Broadsides to their ship, mateys.”
//I’d feather your gizzards before landing in your cookpot.// He started running mouthfuls of feathers through his beak.
Devon blinked. Feather her gizzards? What did that even mean?
“Merry Christmas to you too, Blackbeard,” she said. “And for your information, I’m leaning toward not destroying the stones. As long as I don’t become too aggravated by annoying telepathic messages intruding on my thoughts.”
Above, the bird gave a sort of strangled croak before flapping off in a tizzy.
As she shook her head and continued her walk, looking for an out-of-the-way spot to start stealthing, Devon noticed a strange commotion near the Shrine to Veia. It looked like the trainer NPCs were accosting someone. Though it was hard to tell at a distance, their victim didn’t look like someone she knew.
Devon shook her head. Of all the rotten Christmas presents, it seemed the noob invasion had begun.
Chapter Eight
“OKAY, BEETLE.” EMERSON shifted his grip on the Practice Short Sword as he tiptoed toward the massive insect. Another shiver of disgust started at the base of his spine and traveled outward. Why did his first quest have to involve killing beetles and rats? There was a good reason exterminators charged so much for their work. Which, speaking of, wouldn’t it be easier for Stonehaven to put a big striped tent over the field and gas the things to death?
But no. Both Dorden—who hadn’t shown even a glimmer of recognition when Emerson asked for a weapon—and Aravon, the overly enthusiastic fighting trainer, had insisted that the vermin must be slain by hand.
He shuffled forward another step. As a reward for returning to the group of trainers with his new sword, at least he’d been given a pair of sandals. The grass poking his ankles was bad enough. How much worse would it be if it were stabbing the bottoms of his feet?
The beetle was just a meter or so away, its unsettling mandibles clicking together, shiny black legs carrying it closer. Grimacing, Emerson twisted the ball of his right foot into the ground, raised his sword—damn the thing was heavy—and slashed down like he was trying to chop wood.
The sword glanced off the beetle’s carapace with a chink sound, and the tip planted itself in the dirt. Emerson squealed in a very unmanly way as the insect turned compound eyes on him and sprinted forward. It bit him on the right shoulder as he tried vainly to yank his sword from the ground.
You gain a skill point: +1 One-handed Slashing
A Chittering Beetle bites you for 3 damage!
The beetle appears unharmed by your attempt to strike it.
“Aggh. What?” Emerson yanked harder, finally freeing the weapon from the ground. But momentum sent him stumbling back, and his heel caught on a tuft of grass. He landed hard on his butt, wincing at the dart of discomfort that lanced up his spine.
You take 1 falling damage.
He waved frantically, trying to dispel the messages blocking his vision. Finally, the popups vanished, exposing the apparently furious beetle as it literally jumped through the air and landed a spikey foot on his thigh. Blood welled from the puncture wound.
A Chittering Beetle stabs you for 1 damage!
The beetle remains unharmed by your efforts.
“Wait! Stop with the messages. I can’t see.” Panicked, he flailed his arm in hopes it would clear his vision. A loud crack rattled his skull when he accidentally whacked the beetle in the face with his forearm.
You gain a skill point: +1 Unarmed Combat.
You punch a Chittering Beetle for 2 damage!
Would you like to suppress non-urgent combat notifications while in battle? Y/N
“What? Yes. Suppress please.”
Thank you. Combat notifications reduced to high importance only. This includes ability acquisition, level-up notifications, and critical details.
Emerson scarcely had time to shove the popup away before the beetle surged forward again and clamped mandibles around his ribs.
“Ow shit!” he yelled as the insect bit down. In the corner of his vision, a red bar flashed and shrank. It appeared to be less than half full.
Rolling out of the grip of the godawful monster’s serrated appendages, he made a desperate slash with his sword and somehow managed to get the blade to bite where the beetle’s head attached to its thorax. The thing hissed as freakish yellow goo sprayed.
Fricking hell! Why did people play these games?
/>
Moaning, Emerson tried to grab the sword’s hilt with both hands, but the instant his left wrapped around his right, he felt a sudden loss of coordination. He yanked anyway, freeing the blade. As the beetle recovered from the blow, Emerson whimpered and log-rolled away from the beast, his arms stretched over his head. When he tried to stand, he stumbled and nearly landed on the blade.
Practice Short Sword is a one-handed weapon. Agility reduced by 50% if attempting to wield it two-handedly.
“Fine. Shit. Okay.” He released the weapon with his left hand and stood panting as the beetle turned for him. He swallowed back a fresh wave of terror as the mandibles clicked together.
As the beetle skittered toward him, Emerson looked over his shoulder toward Stonehaven’s outer gate. Wasn’t anyone concerned that he was being brutally attacked and would probably be murdered by a man-eating bug? The man that Devon had named her fortification’s master—Jarleck, was it?—had given him a once over when he’d stalked purposefully into the field of battle, but he hadn’t offered any words of encouragement or warning.
It was like the man simply didn’t care that Emerson was going to die just outside the settlement’s walls. What good was building a godforsaken settlement in the wilds if you didn’t lift a finger to protect an innocent noob?
The beetle hissed again as it struck, and with a feral yell, Emerson brought his sword arcing around in a wild, overhead swing. He shut his eyes, expecting to miss and once again lodge his blade in the earth.
To his surprise, a sickening wet crunch filled his ears. Something cool and gooey splattered onto his face. It reeked like some kind of moldy hollandaise sauce mixed with grass clippings. Fighting the surge of bile, Emerson grimaced as he opened his eyes and saw the splattered beetle. He shrieked when the clang of a strange bell shook the field.
Vault of the Magi: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 5) Page 6