by C. M. Carney
(B) Summon Vulccoth: Vulccoth are carrion eaters that resemble gangly, humanoid vultures. Feathers made from sulfur and flame cover their wings and their skin resembles old melted wax. Their scratch can paralyze the weak of mind with fear. They love to swoop down and rake targets with their diseased claws. Anyone scratched by a vulccoth’s claws may contract Chthonic Rot, a leprosy like disease that slowly turns the body to sulfurous ash while driving the victims insane.
(A) Summon Shadowling: Shadowlings are animated shadows of wing, dark flame and claw. When seen, which rarely happens, they appear to be humanoid bat-like creatures. They exude ash laden clouds of shadow and dust that blinds and chokes living creatures and causes 5DMG/Sec of suffocation damage.
To date, all the chthonic creatures Wick had summoned had come via spell and were limited to Xeg and Avernerius. He had considered purchasing one, or more, of the Summon perks on a number of occasions, but had always held out.
Xeg was a pain in the ass on the best of days and those were the days when Wick could still send him back to the chthonic realm. I really need to figure out why he keeps hanging around. He also knew Avernerius would have killed Wick if given the chance. Bringing more hell beasts into the mortal realms was never something to take lightly. There was another option, but first he had to decide which scary monster would provide the most aid. He inspected the Chthonic Avatar perk tree.
Chthonic Avatar:
This perk tree enables a warlock to use the power of the chthonic realm not to summon a demonic creature, but to draw their powers into an avatar. The user must already be able to summon the chthonic creature whose traits will bind to the avatar. This can be via spell or perk.
(B) Base: Base level chthonic creatures summoned via spell or perk can imbue an avatar.
(A) Apprentice: Base level chthonic creatures summoned via spell or perk can imbue an avatar.
Note: A chthonic being summoned under the bonds of Chthonic Binding can act as an avatar.
A plan formed in his mind. Gorrath were strong demonic battering rams. That was exactly what they needed to knock down the door and save Gryph. But, he did not need to summon a gorrath if he also purchased the Base Chthonic Avatar perk. Instead he could give the abilities of a gorrath to Avernerius.
He quickly dragged two Specialty Points into Summon Gorrath and Base Chthonic Avatar. He felt the expected surge of warmth and then moved on to the other perk trees.
Forces of the Chthonic Realm:
This perk tree allows a warlock to harness the physical forces that inhabit the chthonic realm and draw them into another realm for use as weapons.
(B): Tornado of Claws: Summons a hive mind chthonic creature that takes the form of a tornado of slicing and dicing claws. The summoner must designate a target upon casting or risk an uncontrolled tornado that attacks friend and foe alike.
(A): Chthonic Muck: Transforms a 20x20 foot area into the muck found in the fetid swamps of the chthonic realm. It acts like terrestrial quicksand with the added nastiness of slow burning acid and chthonic leeches.
ïAny creature caught cannot move for 1 sec per level of Chthonic Magic mastery. Thereafter they are slowed by 100% minus Dexterity for the rest of the spells duration.
ïSlow Burning Acid does 1DMG/Sec for every 5 levels of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
ïSummons 1 Chthonic Leech for every 5 levels of Chthonic Magic Mastery. A leech will attach itself to any creature trapped in the muck and do 1 DMG/Sec until bloated (100 points absorbed). Once bloated they will explode for 50 DMG each.
ïThe muck lasts 5 seconds per level of Chthonic Magic mastery.
He’d long ago selected the Tornado of Claws perk from the Forces of the Chthonic Realm perk tree, because it sounded so damn cool. He had used it only once before, with mixed results, because an arrow in the leg had broken his concentration and the tornado had run amuck, tearing into friend and foe alike.
Chthonic Muck sounded vile and awesome but was not of much use in his current circumstances. He needed to power up Avernerius, not slow Myrthendir and his arachnid minions down.
Chthonic Crafting:
This perk tree allows a warlock who is also a skilled Crafter (Alchemy, Artifice, Imbue, Smithing, etc.) to incorporate powers, creatures and abilities from the chthonic realm into their crafted products. They must be Level 10 or above in an appropriate crafting skill.
(B) Chthonic Damage: Permanent addition of chthonic damage can be added to any weapon crafted by the user. Damage: .25 points per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
(A) Chthonic Defense: A permanent addition to the AC of any armor crafted by the user. AC bonus of .25 per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
Chthonic Crafting was also an easy no. Wick didn’t craft, so it was useless, for now.
Chthonic Missile Weapon:
This perk tree allows a warlock to summon a set of chthonic missile weapons. The number of weapons summoned is equal to the user’s level of Chthonic Magic Mastery. The weapon will have various magical abilities per tier and the user must possess a complementary skill to use the weapon. EXP: Archery level 1+ to use chthonic bow.
Uses: X times per day where X= 1 + (Chthonic Magic Tier Mastery - Perk Tier). EXP: Chthonic Bolt uses = (1+(3 Journeyman - 1 Base)) = 3
(B) Chthonic Bolt: Enables the user to fire 1 bolt of chthonic energy for every 5 levels of Chthonic Magic Mastery. Bolts will disappear after 1 hour. Bolts do 1 point of damage per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
(A) Chthonic Bow: Summons a bow made of crimson flame, smoke and sulfur that comes with a quiver filled with 1 chthonic arrow per 3 levels of Chthonic Magic Mastery. Unused arrow will disappear after 1 hour. Arrows do 1.5 points of damage per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
Now he had long been a fan of the Chthonic Weapons perks. Chthonic Bolt, which fired a shard of chthonic energy at his enemies. He’d love to upgrade the Chthonic Missile tree, but since he did not possess the Archery skill, he had no way of knowing what wonders lay beyond.
Maybe I’ll have Ovyrm teach me, he thought. Another thing to add to the list. He turned his attention to the Chthonic Melee Weapons tree.
Chthonic Melee Weapon:
This perk tree allows a warlock to summon chthonic melee weapons, either for oneself or for a summoned chthonic creature. The wielder must possess the requisite skill. The weapon will have various magical abilities per tier and the user must possess a complementary skill to use the weapon. EXP: Long Blades level 1+ to use a chthonic long sword.
(B) Chthonic Flame: Summons a weapon made from chthonic flame. The weapon does damage equal to a weapon of the same type +.25 points of chthonic flame damage per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
(A) Chthonic Magma: Summons a weapon made from chthonic magma, that possesses all the abilities of a chthonic flame melee weapon and can melt armor, shields and weapons, reducing their effectiveness. Each successful hit against armor or shield will reduce the effective AC by .10 points per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery. This loss is permanent. Magma damage is + .35 points of chthonic flame damage per level of Chthonic Magic Mastery.
Wick had used his first Specialty Perk Point to buy Avernerius a nice shining sword of flame. The abyssal terror was a, well, terror with the weapon. Wick bought the perk and chuckled like a boy opening a present on his naming day.
I’m gonna fuck you up Myrthendir, Wick thought with a mental grin, and examined his chthonic sub-skill trees.
Chthonic Enhancement Perk Tree
Tier
Might
Upgrade
Mutation
B
Weapon
Blood
Base
A
Armor
Ichor
Apprentice
J
N/A
N/A
N/A
M
N/A
N/A
N/A
GM
N/A
N/A
N/A
&n
bsp; Chthonic Summoning Perk Tree
Tier
Brawler
Flyer
Avatar
Forces
B
Gorrath
Vulccoth
Base
Tornado of Claws
A
Carraxen
Shadowling
Apprentice
Chthonic Muck
J
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
M
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
GM
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Chthonic Weapons Perk Tree
Tier
Crafting
Missile
Melee
B
Damage
Bolt
Flame
A
Defense
Bow
Magma
J
N/A
N/A
N/A
M
N/A
N/A
N/A
GM
N/A
N/A
N/A
Satisfied that his efforts would help save Gryph and horrified at what they had cost him, Wick closed out all his windows and opened his eyes. He nearly fell over, dizzy from the effort of tying his soul closer to the chthonic realm, but Errat caught him by the scruff of his shoulder. Tifala looked into his eyes, like a battlefield doctor inspecting a wounded soldier.
“I’m fine my love.”
“Did it work?” Ovyrm asked.
“Let’s find out.”
Wick downed a double dose of mana potions and waited for the bar to refill. Then he spread his arms wide and closed his eyes. A low chanting murmured up around them. Wick had always found it odd that when he chanted the words, they both came from him and from elsewhere. He tried and failed, to find the origin of the sound for the hundredth time.
The chanting reached a crescendo and a loud voice that both was and was not Wick’s exploded from his mouth.
“AVERNERIUS … I SUMMON THEE!”
The room filled with the sound of tearing as if a thousand upon thousand sheets of paper were being shorn in half. A singularity of crimson and smoke popped into existence a dozen feet in front of Wick. It pulsed and spun, crackling with energy.
Wick felt a deep sense of unease build inside him as the light of another plane of existence flowed over and through him. He knew the chthonic realm was a living entity that held a deep malevolence for beings from the mortal realms, but this somehow felt different.
The single point of light expanded vertically and then that slice between dimensions expanded into a doorway to the abyss. Distant cracks of yellow lightning surged through clouds the color of an old bruise, casting illumination on a writhing mass of demonic life. Amid the roiling sea of arms, legs, tentacles and other unidentifiable appendages a massive demon raced toward them.
A grim look of satisfaction crossed Wick’s face as he saw the changes Avernerius had gone through. It stood several feet taller than he remembered and its horns had grown several feet, curling inward like a ram’s. They burned in a corona of chthonic flames.
“Don’t look it in the eyes,” Wick warned as the beast reached the threshold between realms, and the others turned their gazes down. The demon passed through the field, then it flipped like a mirror image pulling the demon into this realm where it smashed full on into the massive stone doors.
The doors rumbled and shook, but otherwise held. The demon flexed its hands and Wick noted the large plates of stony bone covering the knuckles. They sprouted spines and barbs which not only protected the demon’s fists but added an extra oomph to its punches.
Dust and fragments of stone fell from the ceiling as the demon’s impacts sent shivers through the entire mountain. The noise was deafening and after a moment thin cracks appeared in the stone of the door.
Errat stood gaping at the demon, something between excitement and fear emanating from him. He reached out a tentative hand to touch Avernerius, when Xeg ported onto his shoulder and smacked his arm, for all the world looking like a sheep herder disciplining his dog. The warborn looked up at the tiny imp and Xeg shook his head in warning. Errat frowned and turned his eyes downward like a chastised child and backed away from the indefatigable demon.
More hairline cracks appeared in the surface of the door and Avernerius focused his fury on the largest of them. The crack grew wider and light poured from the fissure. The demon brought its fist back and pummeled it into the doorway. An explosion tore through the room, tossing Avernerius backwards. The force knocked everyone off their feet.
Errat was the first to stand and grinned his thanks at Xeg, knowing the demonling had likely saved his life. Ovyrm helped Wick up, but he collapsed back onto one knee as a trickle of blood dripped from his nose. Tifala rushed to his side, taking his head in her hands. A swirl of green light flowed around them and into Wick’s body, staunching the flow of blood.
“Are you sure you have control over this thing?” Ovyrm said, voice tense.
“I think so,” Wick said through gritted teeth. “He is very strong.” He waved his hand telling everyone to move back.
Avernerius regained his feet, unfazed by the explosion, lowered his head and charged the door. His ram like horns punched into the stone and the crack in the door expanded. The light inside grew dim and then faded altogether.
The demon redoubled its efforts and soon large chunks of the door crumbled to the floor. The noise was deafening and just as Wick was sure his hearing would never be the same the demon stopped. Its breath came ragged, each exhalation pumping smoke and sulfur into the room.
Then a silence descended on the room, made more potent by the sudden absence of sound. Wick thought the demon had given up, but then it extended its left hand outward and a hilt of golden magma appeared in his hand and a blade of fire and smoke exploded upwards, its brightness forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
31
Gryph floated without care or need. A distant and dull boom rose from the depths and touched the edge of his hearing. It was like the heartbeat of an ancient leviathan awakened and hungry to feed. He forced his mind towards the sound and realized he was in the depths, hidden in darkness. Something was calling him back, something important. The weapon, a voice said inside his mind, a voice he realized was his own. With awareness came remembrance and with memory came panic. He pushed up through the thick nothingness to consciousness and pain came with it.
Gryph gasped in pain as full consciousness returned. He could not move, and flashbacks of the paralytic Dirge had used in the Barrow came back to him. The thundering boom that had drawn him back to the world of pain came again, and again and he understood that someone, or something, was trying to smash through the massive stone doors.
Wick and the others? A thought came to him. Avernerius?
He opened his eyes. He was hanging upside down, tied and bound, his body enveloped in the arachnid’s webbing, long strands twinned around him and then disappeared up and into the shadows of the ceiling.
He wrenched his body back and forth in a feeble attempt to escape, but only aggravated his ill-healed gut wound further. Below him Myrthendir sat cross-legged, eyes closed, Gryph’s soul bound bag resting on his lap. The Prince Regent was muttering under his breath and his hands moved in intricate patterns over the bag.
He’s trying to break the soul binding like he did with the Seal of the Dwarven King.
Shock bit into Gryph. How is it even possible? The goddess who’d given him the bag assured him that nobody, not even the gods, could break the binding. Yet somehow this aberrant, this accident of horror and malice, had managed it once already.
He already has the seal. What horrors can he unleash with the eggs?
Gryph watched the elf lord struggle to force his hand into his
satchel. The bag is trying to resist him. Sweat trickled down the elf lord’s brow, and a grunt of pain slipped past his lips, but he pushed harder and then he had access. His whole body shook for several moments as he cycled through the bag's inventory. A moment later he pulled his writhing prize free.
Myrthendir looked down upon the egg in triumph as the larva’s mind screeched its hate at him. Myrthendir placed the egg sack into a glass and metal box. As he closed the lid the telepathic screaming ceased.
Some kind of stasis? Like the bag.