Jeremy had his back turned, but the shaking in his shoulders hinted at contained laughter. With Torald gazing up at her as if waiting for a blessing from a beloved ruler, she couldn’t exactly glare at Jeremy. But she sent a few mental daggers into his back.
The more she thought about it, the worse she felt about her own initial reaction. No doubt Torald had endured plenty of ridicule for how seriously he took his paladin character. Yeah, it was a little dorky. Okay…really dorky. But weren’t they all here to live other lives, in a sense? If there was anywhere in the modern world that someone could reimagine themselves as a holy knight, it should be here.
After a pointed glance at Hailey, Devon attempting to command the woman to keep her mouth shut, she laid a hand on the paladin’s shoulder. The armor plate was cool against her palm. For the briefest instant, she worried he’d be upset if she left a handprint on the gleaming surface, but since they were about to submerge themselves in an algae-covered pond, a few fingerprints probably wouldn’t make a difference.
Devon couldn’t quite bring herself to his level of roleplaying. She hoped he understood as she took a deep breath, putting on her best solemn expression. “Thank you, Torald. Veia has...uh...blessed me with true allies. I accept your...uh...gleaming sword into my service against the vermin ahead and the greater challenges beyond.”
His face lit in a wide grin. “We’ll make an RPer out of you yet. Ever LARPed?”
Devon blinked. “LARPed?”
“Maybe you’ve heard of Amtgard?”
Jeremy was now bent double in his efforts to contain his laughter. Devon did her best to ignore him but gave up as he turned to face them.
“Foam swords, Dev. You’ve probably seen videos. People yell out ‘Lightning bolt!’ to cast spells.”
She shrugged. Sometimes he really could be a jerk. So what if some people liked to pretend?
She turned a kind smile on Torald to spite the troubadour. “Truth is, I’m online so much I don’t get out in the real world.”
Torald nodded understanding. “Well, if you’re ever in Philadelphia…” The tone of his voice indicated a bit more hope than Devon felt was warranted. But she nodded anyway, figuring he was probably just lonely. It happened a lot with gamers who didn’t end up clicking with an online guild and who had a hard time finding people who shared their interests locally.
The rest of the player force had started to trickle in, and groups were now forming up at the water’s edge. A few avatars had waded out up to their knees, but everyone seemed to be waiting for Devon. She took a breath and opened her inventory.
Item: Morphkin Charm
Carved from soapstone by the artisans of the Drowned Burrow, this charm is used by morphkin to gain entrance to their home even while shifted into the humanoid form many have begun to assume.
Use: Casts water-breathing on the group.
Recharge time: 20 minutes
Duration: 10 minutes
The totem would only work on her group, but since a raid force could have up to thirty-two people, she didn’t have much excuse for not inviting more.
“Hailey, can you pass the lead to Torald? I want him to invite a couple of other groups.” She glanced at Torald. “I’d rather we move in separate units once inside. Pick groups who can split off.”
The seeker nodded, and her eyes went distant as she focused on her UI to pass the group leadership. A couple minutes later, three more batches of players popped into her interface.
“Sorry guys,” Devon called over the crowd. “Water-breathing is group-only. Can everyone else guard the shore in case the mobs inside call for help? Everyone that’s with me, the plan is to divide back into groups once we’re inside. We’ll split up to clear the dungeon. If you find a boss you can’t beat in a small group, or you come across something that looks like an awakening stone, wait there. Try to get in touch with the other groups through messenger.”
Some grumbling followed, but nobody protested outright.
That settled, Devon stuck her hand into her rucksack, focused on the item icon, and felt the little soapstone totem drop into her hand. She squeezed it and activated the ability.
Abruptly, she was suffocating. Her nostrils felt sealed, and—bizarrely—her neck itched like crazy.
Wide-eyed, Devon looked at her friends. They appeared just as frantic. Hailey rubbed her nose furiously as if to clear it, and Jeremy clutched his throat and opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
As her vision tunneled down and the itching on the sides of her neck turned to pain, Devon spotted Bravlon toddling merrily toward the pond. His mother chased after, her face gone the color of a dead fish.
A fish. Of course. Devon peered harder at the dwarf woman and understood.
She slapped her hand to the side of her neck, then ran fingertips over the series of vents that had opened in her flesh. The gills matched the slits she’d spotted below Heldi’s ear.
Lungs heaving in the vain effort to draw breath, Devon raced forward and grabbed Hailey by the wrist. Yanking her friend, she pointed at the water, then laid Hailey’s palm over the line of gills on her neck.
Understanding dawned on Hailey’s face and she nodded before stumbling for the water and executing an ungraceful belly flop.
Devon’s health bar flashed as a few points fell away. Lacking breath to shout, Devon jumped up and down to get attention, then followed the other woman into the pond. She made a shallow dive, and lukewarm water soon flowed over her gills.
Finally, she could breathe again. If that’s what you could call it.
Eyes stinging in the silty water, Devon fought the urge to retch and cough and splutter as water filled her nose and throat. But the desperate need to suck air into her lungs faded, and eventually her heart rate returned to normal. She squinted through the green murk and spotted hints of armor glinting, limbs moving.
She swam to the surface and raised her eyes above the pond’s surface while leaving her gills submerged. A few players who’d been struck by the spell remained on land. They were now flopping and dying on the shore while others struggled to roll them into the water. One man fought his would-be saviors, probably due to hypoxic panic, and Devon grimaced when his body spasmed one last time before going still and fading away.
The situation was like some kind of reverse Darwin thing. Survival of those who could handle regressing through the evolutionary chain.
Glancing around, she saw more and more people surface as they became accustomed to the gills. No one looked particularly pleased with the situation, but a number of the players nodded at her to show that they were ready.
Speaking of, the weight of the totem in her hand reminded Devon that the buff only lasted ten minutes. And the recharge time was twenty.
Best get on with it.
With a jerk of her head, Devon gestured toward the burrow, then plunged into the water.
The swim was eerie. Devon caught glimpses of her fellow adventurers now and again, a flash of skin or the glint from a belt buckle. When she dove deeper, she witnessed the tank characters marching across the floor of the pond, their armor too heavy for swimming. Eyes and teeth were lighter spots in the murk, and as the lily pads moved over the water’s surface, the light beneath shifted in a ghostly manner.
When her buff icon flashed once, indicating that the buff was halfway expired, Devon pushed hard with her legs while heading at an angle toward the surface to make sure she was on the proper course.
Sudden darkness closed over her head.
A cloud? Denser lily pads?
Concerned, Devon converted all forward momentum into upward and kicked for the surface.
She started pulling with her arms, and her knuckles grazed something overhead. She winced and reached up again while treading water.
Hard stone. Not air.
She’d swam under some sort of shelf, which probably meant she was nearer the burrow than she thought. Like beaver lodges and muskrat p
ushups, the entrance to the dungeon would be underwater, offering protection from non-aquatic enemies.
But where?
Devon hadn’t expected an overhang to block the light.
She scissored her legs, spinning in a circle, but couldn’t tell which direction led to open water. Featureless murk pressed in on all sides. Despite being able to breathe through her gills, she abruptly felt as if her air were running out.
Sudden panic shot through her body. Water rushed through her parted lips—cold and tasting like spoiled vegetables—as she fought the urge to pant.
Deep in the back of her mind, her demon-self clawed at her thoughts. The sudden assault only increased her panic. Fingers curled, she felt her lips pull back in a snarl. She struck at the stone overhead, dragging her knuckles across it and scraping away flesh. Thrashing, she writhed in the water and taste-scented the blood from her fingers as it flowed over her gills.
The demon surged again, fighting harder, stoking her panic and anger. Her dark aspect had been penned too long, forced from her mind and throttled by the weak connection to Zaa. Again she struck at the stone overhead, scraping away more of her flesh in her rage.
Blood surrounded her in a diffuse cloud, leaking from the knuckles of both fists.
Abruptly, her thrashing stilled. The coppery tang in the water brought clarity. Power flooded her muscles, electric and chill. She sucked deeply of the blood-tinged water, reveling in the potential. It had been so long.
She scissored her legs to spin in a slow circle and peered into the murk. Still featureless, the darkness no longer frightened her. Dark or light, she would endure.
Devon!
She shook her head as the voice screamed in her mind. Later. Right now, the power of her blood promised a way out. Her mind steely and clear, focused only on the goal of survival, Devon summoned a pair of Glowing Orbs, leaving one attached to each of her hands. Features emerged from the water around her, a series of columns propping the stone ceiling and marching off in either direction.
It still wasn’t enough to orient, so Devon activated Simulacrum to conjure a doppelganger of Bob. The illusion of her wisp guide glowed brightly in the green-black shadows, and she sent it forward along the line of columns, illuminating the way. When the light passed beyond what appeared to be the end of the row of columns, she called it back. Wrong way, which meant the underwater entrance to the burrow must lie in the other direction.
She sent the wisp manifestation ahead and began swimming in its wake. Motion caught her eye to either side of her passage as, lured by the light, people began to converge on her. Wide eyes showed relief; most likely they’d panicked like she had when swimming into the darkness.
Deep inside her, another familiar sense awakened. She felt the pulsing of their blood. The throbbing life in their flesh. The cold hunger coursing through her body swelled. A feast surrounded her, but in her clarity, she also knew she must resist.
Devon! She shook her head. Again with the voice. Didn’t it understand that she had control? She needed this cold dispassion to survive the swim. Afterward, she could drown the demon, subsume the desire for blood. But now, her demon self meant life.
The Simulacrum reached a wall, a tangle of dead branches and logs with softened bark drifting on the current. At the edge of the illusion’s light, an opening yawned. The others spotted salvation at the same time as Devon, and soon a swarm of players crowded the area. Those in heavy armor marched forward, heads bowed, stalwart. A couple of characters had transformed into dolphins and swam with strong beats of their tails against the water. Other humans clad in leather and streaming cloth swam with arms and legs and converged into a river of…blood.
Power.
Devon just needed to reach out and take it. No one even had to know it was her, and besides, they had blood to spare. Her soul trembled in anticipation. She reached for her Wicked Bone Dagger, remembering its chance of applying a poison effect. Just a scrape, and the elixir in their veins would be tainted by her wicked magic. An intriguing notion, like sampling an exotic taste.
She swam forward, gaze focusing on a stocky man whose chainmail shirt weighed him down, inhibiting speed, but not enough to keep him on the bottom of the pond. He swam awkwardly, gills open wide to suck in the life-giving air. He probably wouldn’t even notice her attack. Bleed him well, and she would gain healing power and strength.
But for what reason? So that afterward she could strike others?
An interesting notion. If the goal here was to reach the awakening stone, weren’t the majority of the players superfluous? Wasn’t it logical that they be sacrificed to improve her chances of success?
She opened her abilities interface, tabbing over to the section where her greatest powers waited.
Ability: Blood Mist – Tier 1
Channel the blood of your dead and dying opponents into energy which heals your wounds. When the healing effect fades, leaves behind a secondary effect, Sated by Blood, granting +2 Strength for 5 minutes.
Heals 13-15 damage every 6 seconds. Healing and Strength gain scales to +65% as your health approaches zero.
Duration: 45 seconds
Devon blinked, her eyelashes waving away tiny motes of algae.
Blood Mist was grayed out. Unavailable. Same with the more powerful abilities beneath it.
She drifted, puzzled by the situation. Was something wrong with her? Had Zaa withdrawn his favor?
Devon. This is not you. The abilities are grayed out because you are not a demon.
She shook her head at the voice, confused. As she started to sink, the weight of her armor pulling her gently toward the mucky bottom of the pond, a double heartbeat pulsed against her eardrums. One fast, one slow and stalwart. Both so very alive.
She turned her head and saw a child on a dwarf’s shoulders.
It’s Bravlon. The baby.
The boy was laughing and pointing at her, his face shining with what she thought was a display of…delight?
He pointed at her and slapped at the male dwarf’s head, his hand moving in slow motion due to the resistance of the water. The dwarf looked at her, rolled his eyes, and shrugged. He grabbed the child’s wrist and stilled the arm’s motion, then continued on.
Stop, Devon. You can stop. You’ve conquered this before.
The boy kept staring.
Devon crept forward, intent on bleeding such an easy target. And then, a strange sensation washed over her.
A dwarf child afflicts you with Adoration.
All at once, Devon woke to herself. The demon inside her screamed as she shoved it away into the recesses of her mind. Demonic rage flooded her veins in an attempt to force her back into action. Devon, still sinking, felt her knees touch down on the silty pond floor as she stared in horror at the bared dagger in her hand. The light from her Glowing Orb surrounded the bone-white weapon, nearly hiding it in the relative brightness. Most likely, no one had noticed that she’d drawn with the intent to strike.
People walked past her, nodding appreciation. It was as if they believed she’d stopped here, directly in front of the burrow entrance, to provide a beacon for them to orient by.
They had no idea. She’d been ready to murder the dwarf couple’s child.
How much worse would it have been if her Shadowed score had been higher, unlocking some of her demonic abilities? She’d been totally out of control, and she was only 68% Shadowed. Devon couldn’t handle this. Despite what Emerson and the Entwined neuroscientists and shrinks believed, she didn’t have anything close to the fortitude needed to resist Zaa’s influence.
Unless…would she really have done it? Attacked her own allies when she could see their faces? Sure, Bravlon’s ability had snapped her out of it, but hadn’t her inner voice been gaining strength as well?
She pressed her lips together, uncertain. Maybe. Maybe not.
Regardless, as her Water Breathing icon began to flash rapidly, indicating that it would soon expire,
she kicked off from the bottom of the pond. Seeming to notice the same imminent expiration, the players and NPCs who hadn’t yet reached the burrow entrance swam faster.
Devon swam hard for the dark tunnel where her Simulacrum bobbed back and forth. As she glided through the opening, her Glowing Orb lit the tunnel walls, exposing glimpses of stonework mixed with the earthy tangle of wood, roots, and mud. Ahead, the underside of the waterline reflected the light, causing strange refractions on the surrounding.
Just as the buff expired, leaving her lungs suddenly bursting and her throat full of unwelcome pond water, Devon’s head broke the surface. She coughed and spluttered, and her stomach heaved as she spat out a mouthful of mud-tasting pond water.
Around her, others were doing the same, gagging and in some cases, losing part of the morning’s travel rations down through cracks in a floor made of woven rushes.
Devon crawled forward, breath heaving as her Simulacrum spell danced around her in a disconcerting imitation of the wisp. When it booped her nose, she grimaced and canceled the effect.
“Well,” said Greel as he stood and swiped water from his leathers, “aren’t we off to an auspicious start…”
Devon sighed. Yes, that could have gone better. But given what she’d experienced, it could have gone much, much worse.
Glancing around the domed chamber—here, the architecture was almost entirely animal rather than humanoid-built—she noticed the pair of clocks in the corner of her vision. By the in-game time, it was eleven in the morning. At home, it was earlier. Nine.
Time was short. Best get on with it.
Five smaller tunnels opened off the entrance hall for the burrow. With a deep breath, she addressed the group.
“All right. Time to split off. My group will take the largest opening.”
As the groups peeled away, the character status windows from their members disappearing from her interface, Devon stalked toward the largest tunnel mouth.
At the very least, she could get away from the crowd before her demon-self took control again.
Citadel of Smoke: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 4) Page 19