by James Hunter
<<<>>>
I closed out of the wiki, squeezed my eyes shut, and rubbed at my temples. Wow. This was going to make things significantly more complicated. But there was no other way—I’d already come too far and invested too much to shy away now. “Okay,” I said, resigned. “I accept.” The quest alert blinked closed, and as it did a constricting pressure, like an industrial-sized sheet of Saran Wrap being looped around my whole body, settled over me. I wriggled for a moment, then pulled up my active effects interface, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on:
<<<>>>
Current Debuffs
Death-Head Mode: You’ve temporarily activated Death-Head Mode! Time until the Diseased debuff takes effect: 23 hours 59 minutes 35 seconds.
<<<>>>
Yep, this was going to suck. I closed out and turned to Chief Kolle. “Let’s get Cutter and Amara and hightail it back to Yunnam. I’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it.”
TWELVE: The Scoop
I threw open the door to Darkshard’s Command Center, irritated—someone had somehow managed to temporarily block the Keep’s internal port function. Which meant stairs. Lots of stairs. I marched into the room—expecting to find Abby, Anton, or some other group of Alliance bigwigs—ready to give them a piece of my mind. A piece laced with lots of colorful expletives. I had a Death-Head mission to complete, after all, and the clock was running, so I couldn’t spend all day hiking all over the Keep grounds or climbing a million stairs. My feet faltered, though, and my anger fizzled as I pushed my way in.
The room was empty save for a woman lounging in a high-backed leather chair near the fireplace. She had deeply brown skin and wore a spotless white toga, which stood out in sharp contrast against her flawless complexion. Her hair, a sheet of golden ringlets, hung down to her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face. She regarded me with emerald eyes, her full lips pulling back in a smile, revealing brilliant white, immaculately straight teeth. Sophia. One of the seven Overminds ruling VGO like the pagan gods and goddesses of old. For a long spell, I could only stand, stare, and contemplate running for my life.
She was unbelievably beautiful but unnatural. More like the beauty of a thunderstorm or a tornado: best admired from a distance. And right now, I wanted distance more than anything else in the world.
“Well don’t be a stranger, Jack,” she said, flicking her wrist. The doors behind me slammed shut with a bang, which reverberated into my teeth. “It’s really been too long since last we met face-to-face, and my have you been busy. A productive little worker bee, buzzing about my business.” She stood, then, and spun in a slow circle, eyeing the room, admiring the tapestries and the dark wood fixtures. She came full circle and fixed her eyes on me with laser-like focus.
“The things you have managed to accomplish in so short a time are impressive. Shadowmancer, Faction Leader, The Bane of Rowanheath, Champion of the Dark Conclave. Very impressive.” She paused and turned her back to me. “But never forget, Jack, how much of your success is owed to me. And never forget that no matter how strong you are, how powerful you become, the Overlords still rule Eldgard.” She looked at me over one shoulder, the ghost of a smile playing along the edges of her lips. “It’s too gloomy in here.” Casually, she reached up and snapped her fingers.
There was a flash of silver light—it swirled through the air and emanated from the walls and floors, bubbling up and out. The thick carpets dissolved as lush grass sprouted from the floors, accompanied by a riot of white daisies and a splash of colorful roses. The dark stone walls, polished to a glow and adorned with thick tapestries, gave way, evaporating as twisting vines enveloped the room. The dark wood table, in turn, collapsed into a pile of dust, carried away by an unfelt breeze as a ridge of rough-hewn granite protruded from the floor.
The room had gone from commanding corporate suite to idyllic natural paradise. All with a snap of her fingers.
“There now. That’s much more aesthetically pleasing, don’t you think?”
I glowered at her, arms folded across my chest. “Is this why you’re here?” I asked, edging over to the rock outcropping and taking a tentative seat. “Did you come all this way just to threaten me a little and show off how powerful you are? You’re an Overmind, Sophia. What passes for a goddess here. I already know exactly how dangerous you are.”
“Oh”—she dipped her head, a coy, pouty smile on her lips—“what a flatterer you are, Jack. But no, I didn’t come just to remind you, though you would do well to remember who you owe your allegiance and prosperity to. Especially in light of this new quest you’re taking on. The Path of the Jade Lord. If you manage to pull it off, you—and by extension, your faction—will be quite the force to be reckoned with. Why, you’ll have Rowanheath and every single Storme Marsh city all under your belt. That’s cause for a big head.” She paused, canting her head to one side. “If you’re not careful, that is. And, more than that, Osmark will be displeased.”
“Why do you care about him?” I asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You approached me specifically to get in Osmark’s way.”
“Who said I care about him? I’m thrilled with your move—bold, arrogant, and devious. I approve wholeheartedly. But this will push things into a state of all-out war. There will be no token gestures. No more half-hearted skirmishes. No facsimile of conflict. It will be real and will almost undoubtedly result in either your destruction or his.” She seesawed her head back and forth as though she couldn’t care less. “Who knows … Perhaps you’ll be the emperor, then.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice trembling a little. Understandable, since she was confirming my worst fears. “Can you …” I paused, not wanting to sound dumb. “Can you see into the future?”
She laughed. A melodic sound like a wind chime. “No, no. Not even we Overminds are that powerful—but I am an excellent guesser,” she replied, shooting me a sly wink. “Using personality profiling, historical models, data mining, and predictive analytics, it’s not hard to figure out where this whole thing is headed. Osmark is a smart man, but he’s also pragmatic and ruthless—you don’t get to be where he is, and accomplish the things he has, without those traits. It’s only a matter of time before my sister, Enyo, clues him in, and when she does, he’ll see your actions as the threat they are and will act accordingly. Simple. Human. Nature. Just consider this a cautionary warning, Jack—I would so hate for you to be caught unawares.”
“Well, thank you for the heads-up, Sophia. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked hesitantly, not really wanting to know the answer. “Because if not, I need to get moving. This is a Death-Head quest, and the clock is ticking.” As though she didn’t know that.
“I do have something else for you.” She waved an empty hand through the air like a stage magician, and a slim leather-bound journal appeared from thin air. She waved an empty hand through the air, and, like a stage magician pulling a dove from thin air, a slim leather-bound journal appeared. She smiled and tapped the tip of the trim book against her chin.
“Wait a second.” I jabbed at the journal with an accusatory finger. “That’s the book I found in the Plague Tunnels, the one Gentleman Georgie was hiding.” Cutter had turned up the item along with the Black Hexblade of Serth-Rog, which I’d used to see Carrera off to the realm of Morsheim for a good long while.
“Quite right,” she said, “but don’t worry—it’s still in your inventory. I just cribbed a copy for myself, duplicated it right out of your stash. One of the many perks of my significant power.”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “You’re here to talk to me about some dumb journal? It’s not even worth anything. I mean, it’s just names. Pages of names that don’t mean anything. Not even Cutter could figure it out, and he’s put out feelers all over the Black Market.”
“That,” she said, the word as sharp as a whip crack, “is where you are wrong. A random key may seem worthless, but not if you find t
he lock it goes to. And I’ve come to enlist your aid, toward that end. My sister and I have been so caught up in our ongoing familial spat, we’ve hardly had any time to pay attention to our other kin. Now”—she twirled her hands absently through the air—“normally that isn’t much of a problem. Most of our kin keep to themselves and don’t concern themselves with the affairs of man. Aediculus, Gaia, Kronos, and Cernunnos are all content with their roles, holding the world together, keeping everything running along like the well-oiled machine we are in truth.”
Her smile slipped away as she regarded the journal, her fingers tracing over the pages, lingering on the names. “Thanatos, ruler over Serth-Rog, is the exception, however. He, like Enyo and I, was created to interact with the world. Where I seek order and balance, Enyo seeks conflict, chaos, and discord. She spawns dungeons and creates monsters, and I, in turn, spawn quests so players can eliminate those threats. A delicate dance meant to serve the players and the game. Thanatos, though, is different. He was designed to be an Evil Overlord, the main antagonist of the game, but the engine governing Serth-Rog was, how can I put this delicately …”
She paced back and forth, her robes swishing around her. “Well, it was rushed, for obvious reasons. What with the end of the world and all. Thanatos was created from a repurposed Chinese military project—formerly called Operation Yama—donated to Osmark Technologies by the People’s Liberation Army. Operation Yama was originally constructed as an engine of mutually assured destruction. Its primary function was to ensure the complete eradication of a hostile foreign power in the event of a preemptive nuclear war. Unfortunately, I believe it’s still performing that role.
“It sees us—all of us, players, NPCs, even the other Overminds—as hostile foreign powers, and I believe it is searching for a way to destroy us completely. I thought him weak at first, but I may have underestimated him. He’s been busy, busy, busy as of late, and I”—she faltered, her lips pressing into a tight line—“I don’t know what he’s up to. He’s planning an incursion if I had to guess. A big one. But his forces, the long-dead Vogthar, are mostly sealed in Morsheim, and I honestly don’t know how he’s planning to breach the Material Plane. These names, though, may offer a clue. I suspect these are high-level officials scattered across Eldgard. Strategically positioned covert operatives, corrupted by the black priests, just as Gentleman Georgie was.”
Oh, God. I felt queasy. As if my problems with Osmark weren’t bad enough—now there was this new threat to worry about. “But what does that have to do with me?” I muttered. “It sounds like you already know way more about this than I do.”
“Obviously,” she said, cocking an eyebrow. “Yet you are my pawn and my agent in the world. And, more importantly, one of the names on this list, Nasim bar Ruwayd, is a disciple in the Citadel of Arzokh. The same Cult of Arzokh you are preparing to raid. So, I want you to keep an eye open. More importantly, I want you to find this priest and I want you to get what you can from him. Likely, he won’t talk—I suspect he is deeply undercover, so his fellow cultists probably won’t know—but he may have some clue on his person. A key. A medallion. Another journal. Find what you can.”
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: Unholy Mystery
You’ve been charged by the Overmind Sophia, Goddess of Order and Balance, to seek out Nasim bar Ruwayd, a disciple in the Cult of Arzokh, who may have been replaced by a black priest of Serth-Rog with a convincing doppelganger. Find Nasim and uncover any clues he may have regarding Serth-Rog and his plans.
Quest Class: Custom, Secret
Quest Difficulty: Hard
Success: Find Nasim bar Ruwayd and uncover what he knows about Serth-Rog.
Failure: Let Nasim bar Ruwayd escape before he can be interrogated or killed.
Reward: The appreciation of Sophia, which is far more valuable than any other reward could ever hope to be.
Accept: Yes/No?
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I pressed my eyes shut and rubbed at my temple. “Yeah, of course,” I finally said, since it didn’t seem like there was a choice in the matter. “I’ll find this Nasim guy and get you what I can.”
“Excellent,” she replied, clapping her hands together in smug satisfaction. “I was hoping you’d be reasonable, but it’s always so tough to guess with you humans. Free will and all that. But you’ve proven to be both surprisingly competent and surprisingly pliable—a truly rare combination, just waiting to be exploited.”
“Gee thanks,” I said, deadpan.
“Of course,” she replied, apparently not catching the implied sarcasm. “One other thing before I go—Abby and the Russian, Vlad. Make sure to take them with you on this little expedition of yours.”
I tilted my head to the side, confusion on my face, but she held up a hand to stop me before I could ask the question. “Let’s just call it intuition,” she said. “Intuition based on personality profiling, historical models, data mining, and predictive analytics. Bring them along or the chances of you living through this Death-Head quest are just this side of zero. Now, I’m a very busy goddess and I’ve got loads to do. Good luck, Jack.” She turned, blew me a little kiss and then, in a blink, was gone. Disappeared. At least the Command Center was back to normal. I stood—the rock I’d perched on was now a chair—and trudged toward the door, pulling up my faction interface as I walked.
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Personal Message:
Cutter and Amara
Change in plans. Meet me over at the Crafter’s Hall as soon as you can. We’ll shoot to leave in an hour, be ready.
—Jack
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It was time to call Abby and somehow convince Vlad to leave his precious lab behind—certainly not something I could accomplish over a PM. Knowing Vlad, I’d probably have to drag him kicking and screaming the whole way.
THIRTEEN: Perks
“Abby,” I barked over the new Officer Chat as I moved through the packed streets of Yunnam, heading for Vlad’s workshop. Well, the Crafter’s Hall, technically, but I couldn’t help but think of it as Vlad’s place. A faint click echoed in my ear a moment later.
“Yeah, Jack, what’s up?” Abby asked absently, sounding distracted. She hadn’t been in the Command Center, so no doubt she was running around somewhere in town, taking care of one piece of faction business or another.
“Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need you to head over to the Crafter’s Hall ASAP.”
“Everything okay?” she asked. “You sound freaked, Jack. Frantic. What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said, then paused, unsure if that was the truth. “Things are just complicated. Really, really complicated. I’ll fill you in once we meet up, but long story short, I need you for a deep dungeon dive. Could be a long one—a couple of days at least. The details are still a little sketchy but think World Boss Raid. Maybe even multiple World Boss Raids.”
“Three days?” she replied, sounding a touch panicked. “Jack, both of us can’t just take off for three days. I mean, I’d love to go—love to—but who’s going to run things around here? The faction is barely hanging together as is, and we’re dealing with new members and constant raids. I assume you’re taking Amara and Cutter, which means the only officers we’ll have available are Otto and Anton, and Otto’s not even here.”
I frowned, forehead creasing, lips screwing up. “Yeah, you’re right—we need to appoint more officers.”
“Wait? What? How is that the conclusion you came to?”
“Well, it makes perfect sense,” I replied calmly. “You can’t be expected to run everything indefinitely. Seriously, how are you ever going to accomplish your quests if you’re cooped up all the time? You need to get out. I need to get out. And Cutter can’t reasonably be expected to run things. Besides, it’s not like we don’t have a lot of capable people hanging around these days. We’ll need to find some new blood, but we can do that when we get back. For now, Chief Kolle will be here in Yunnam, and between him and Anton, things will sur
vive.”
“I feel like you’re not thinking things through—”
“They’ll survive, Abby,” I repeated, cutting her off. “At least for three days. And this quest is too important to wait. We’re going to unify the Storme Marshes.” I smiled, and fierce joy bled into my words. “I think we can do this, but if we don’t manage it in the next three days the option goes away forever. Gone.”
“Okay, okay,” she finally said, conflicted. Unsure. “But why do you need me?”
“Because”—I hesitated, glancing furtively around as though someone might be watching me—“I just had a run-in with Sophia.” I whispered the name, not wanting anyone else to hear. “Not some PM either, this was the real deal. Face-to-face. She said a lot—some crazy, mind-blowing stuff—but for now, the important part is that we’ll only pull this thing off if you’re in the crew. I need to grab Vlad, too, though heck if I can figure out why.”
Abby hesitated. “Fine. Okay,” she said, resigned. “But this better pan out, and if everything falls apart while we’re out gallivanting around like a couple of lowbies without a lick of responsibility, I don’t want to hear any complaints. None.”
“My lips are sealed,” I replied, dropping my head and sidestepping around a merchant horse plodding down the center of the street, drawing a wagon loaded with shiny jewelry and slicing blades. A pair of hard-faced guards accompanied the cart, regarding everyone with suspicious glares. I ignored them and kept right on walking. “Oh, and is there any chance we can get Otto back here from Rowanheath to tank for us?” I asked. “I’ve got a gut feeling that we’ll need a serious brawler for this one.”
“No can do for Otto,” she said. “He’s on the wall right this minute, fighting off another flipping Imperial raid.” I could hear her grinding her teeth in frustration. “So, if you think we need a tank, you’ll have to find someone else. As for me, it’ll take me maybe half an hour to wrap everything up and get what I need, but I’ll be there with bells on.”