by Cebelius
Then, once he was certain Angrboda was out of his way, he placed another rune on the ceiling just inside the archway.
As he was casting, Angie asked, "How are we going to escape?"
"We aren't," he said as he glanced around, noting the obstacles in the room and planning how to move and where to place additional runes after the first two were expended. "Unless there's a secret passage out of here, we'll have to fight until we get a break. Here's how this will go. That rune out there should tear apart the first few, then the one on the ceiling in here will trigger. Kill the ones that get caught up. The tentacles will drop the body and pick up the next one. Rip and tear until there's nothing left."
Angie glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and said, "This from a man afraid of going outside?"
"I'm afraid of one thing, not everything."
"You realize all of these hobgoblins are descended from you, and some of them are quite possibly your direct offspring?" she asked.
Abram thought about that for a few seconds, then asked, "Are they on my side?"
"Most certainly not."
"Think I can convince them to join me?"
"Very unlikely. Absent killing whoever is in charge, the best you could hope for would be capture and a resumption of your previous use."
"Well, I'll die before I let that happen, so as the Doomguy says, 'Rip and Tear.' I'm not about to die to some low-level mob."
Angie chuckled and brandished her ax as she murmured to herself, "Rip and tear ... heheh."
He grinned and said, "I'll be conserving my mana. Let the tentacles do the work. I'll be laying down runes in succession. As long as your arms don't get tired, we should have no problems. Anything with a ranged attack I'll handle."
"All right, Abram. Let us see how we fare in our first true battle."
Shortly afterward, screams sounded in the corridor as the first rune triggered. Abram had deliberately positioned himself as close to the corridor wall as possible so as to remain unseen. The third floor was different from the first two, but one thing they'd all had in common was a central corridor with branches that did not connect, or so he hoped. He hadn't been all the way to the end of this one. Still, it was better than remaining in plain sight.
He had his hood up and pulled low, but he had little hope of concealing his identity for long if any of these goblins saw him and got away.
He waited, his adrenaline pumping as he heard the sounds of furious battle in the corridor. Apparently, the force sent to attack them had stopped to try and fight the tentacles.
Abram knew it was a futile effort. While he was sure they could probably be dispelled, if they were hacked away more would just emerge from the rune.
Presumably the goblins and their hobgoblin allies discovered this as the seconds ticked by, but they did not cease to press, which vaguely surprised Abram until he reminded himself that this was a game. Traps like this worked because the AI was deliberately dumbed down.
He glanced toward Angie, realizing as he did so that it was the first time he'd seen her in any kind of true light. She had flaming red hair to go with her dusting of freckles, and her eyes were green.
She also looked vaguely ill as she watched the carnage. Unlike Abram, she could clearly see what was going on in the corridor.
"Sweet mercy, why would you craft such an evil spell?" she murmured, glancing his way.
"I took the evil affinity," he said with a shrug. "It would be a waste not to make best use of what I have."
She opened her mouth to reply, but a particularly piercing shriek interrupted her. She winced and tilted her head away from whatever was going on out in the corridor.
Finally she managed, "You're an unexpectedly hard man, Abram."
"After what these fuckers did to me, it doesn't matter what's going on out there, it's not hard enough," he said grimly, ignoring the ongoing hue and cry just beyond the portal. "By the time I'm done, I will be a nightmare for every fucking goblin on the face of this planet."
"Yes, Abram, I believe you will."
As she said this, she stepped forward as a hobgoblin passed under the arch. It was a male, and heavily armored with a shield that wouldn't have been out of place on a Roman Centurion.
As soon as he set foot in the room, oily black tentacles exploded down from the ceiling to engulf him. With a yell that rapidly turned into a piercing scream, his body was splayed. He strained mightily for a few heartbeats, then was torn limb from limb as another hobgoblin charged the room, trying to get around the writhing mass.
He almost made it. One twisting limb caught him around the throat and Angie's ax tore into his side just below his cuirass before he could try and cut himself free.
The black tendrils began reaching for Angie, but she leapt backward before they could wrap her up, crying, "Not me!"
"They don't distinguish friend from foe," Abram yelled as he realized his mistake. "Don't engage if it'll put you in range. Just let the tentacles do the work!"
"Why the hell would you make a spell like this!" she cried.
"Because it fucking works!" Abram yelled, raising a hand and preparing to cast. "I'm sorry okay? I'm new at this! I thought these guys would have more hit points!"
Angie lifted her shield and ducked behind the anvil as, with multiple heavy thumps, crossbow bolts shot through the space. One spanged off the edge of her shield, two others ricocheted off the back wall of the forge and spat sparks into the room as they buried themselves in the coals.
Abram took measured steps, eyes sharp as he waited for sight of his opponents. As soon as one came into view, he sent writhing purple lightning arcing into his target. She arched and screamed, then died. Without stopping the flow of his spell, Abram kept walking, shifting his aim as the next crossbowman came into view.
Without remorse or pity, he cut them down, and as they died, an unreasoning rage began to fill him. These were his tormentors, and now he had them at his mercy.
"You're dead, you hear me?!" he cried, lifting his other hand and hitting two at once as they tried to shoot around the edges of the archway. All he needed was a hand, a finger, and his spell would latch on and do its killing work. Power played over the crossbows to find their owners. The two collapsed to the floor, paralyzed by the lethal pain. They died as Abram screamed with manic delight, "You're all fucking dead! You just don't know it yet! Run, hide, it doesn't matter! I'm coming for you, and I will kill you all!"
He cut his spell and waited for more targets, eyes alight with the desire to kill. Now that he had a true taste, he wanted more. His power filled him, and the hatred placed in his heart by the memory of endless days and nights trapped in the darkness boiled to the surface. Fed shit and raped, abused and left for what now seemed a lonely eternity ... all of it welled up within him, demanding pain for pain. A terrible need filled him, a craving for vengeance to soothe his battered soul.
Between him and the archway, the black tentacles lazily writhed, waiting for more prey.
None came.
Either there were no more foes left alive in the corridor beyond, or they had fled.
He checked his mana. 74/90. No problem.
Still his hands flexed. He could feel the tingle of power there, wanted a target to vent his rage on. He trembled, but there was no one.
Hands settled on his shoulders. He jerked, but they smoothed around and pulled him back. Angie's hard cuirass was a poor substitute for what he knew was hidden beneath, but still she held him, and murmured, "They're gone, Abram. They're gone. Please calm down. You're safe."
"Not yet," he said quietly, still trembling, not with fear, but rage. "Not until every fucking one of those things is dead. What they did to me ..."
Get a grip man, it's not real. It's just a game!
The thought was born of his rational mind, and it beat back the welter of savage emotion. His face was streaked with tears that he did not remember, and he shivered.
"This game's fucking with me," he muttered. "Sorry, I'll be fine in a
minute."
"This is no game, young Abram. But I understand. Take your time. I doubt they will return."
The tentacles faded into nothingness as the spell ended.
Two minutes, he thought. Two runes, six seconds of lightning. Sixteen points of mana. Not bad. Get a kill count. Get your head together.
Now that the tentacles weren't in the way, Abram could see that the hallway beyond the arch was literally awash with blood, gore, and body parts.
He blinked, surprised at the absolute mess his spell had made.
Okay ... might not be worth it trying to get an accurate count. Not like it matters anyway, there's apparently no experience mechanic in this game.
As he stepped through the arch, Angie reached out to catch him by the hood and jerk him back. An instant later, a crossbow bolt spat splinters from the stone just beyond where his head had been, one of which sliced into his cheek as the bolt ricocheted past him.
"Son of a-! I thought you said they were gone!"
"Goblins would be," she said quietly. "Unfortunately, we are not dealing with just goblins."
He reached up, brushed his fingers across his cheek. They came away bloody. He checked his hit points, but the damage hadn't been enough to actually take anything off his bar.
"Wow ... I suppose that's twice you've saved my life. Thanks Angie."
"You're welcome."
"So they've got us pinned down. Any idea how we can-"
A scream echoed down the corridor, then another which turned into a desperate gurgling.
Abram looked wide-eyed up at Angie, who shook her head unknowingly, then stepped past him and tipped her head around the corner for an instant, then again.
She stared for a long moment, then turned back to him, looking bemused.
"There were two. Both dead. The corridor is clear."
"Would it have been the bergsrå?" Abram asked.
She shook her head and said, "I don't think so. If so, they'd have waited. There's no one there."
"Uh ... are there ghosts on Celestine?" he asked.
"Undead of all sorts ... none that I know of exist in Svartheim. Anything is possible, but this behavior doesn't match anything I know."
Abram ran his fingers through his hair, then shrugged and said, "Well, let's look around here, see if there's anything worth taking, then move on."
A search of the forge turned up several bricks of various metals that Abram couldn't identify, and a variety of weapons that were unfinished or in need of repair.
Though he searched the place thoroughly, he found not one coin, nor any gems. No finished weapons of any quality, no good armor ...
"I swear to God, where is the loot?" Abram asked once he'd finished searching the blacksmith and come up empty.
"Very likely in the treasure room where it should be," Angie said.
He turned to find her looking curiously at him as she asked, "Where did you keep the bulk of your treasures, Abram?"
"I ... uh, well, I didn't really have any treasures. At home I mostly just have my work shit, some odds and ends, gaming consoles and a tv. All my money is in my bank account."
"So why would you invade a workspace expecting to find coin or treasure?"
Abram scratched his head, trying to find a way to say, 'Because that's how games work.'
There wasn't really a way to say it that wouldn't make him sound stupid in context, so he shrugged and let it go.
"From now on, we should be wary of traps and ambushes," Angie said as she stepped out into the corridor, moving delicately to avoid as many of the bits and pieces as she could. Blood was actually dripping from the ceiling in places, and Abram followed her example as he stepped out, wrinkling his nose at the stench.
"Maybe I should look into moderating that spell just a touch," he said.
"Just a touch," she agreed. "Good luck finding a coin in all this goop."
"Ech. Don't know it'd be worth keeping if I did find one. Let's finish this hallway and get out of here."
"You still want to explore every hallway?" Angie asked incredulously.
"I need a complete map of this place, and I still don't want to leave anyone alive behind us."
"Are you always this thorough?"
Abram grinned. "Absolutely. It may be boring, but this is the best way. Trust me, I'm an engineer."
Daji watched the template and his servant turn away from her and move off down the corridor. She could barely contain her delight. She knew that this was not the template she had been sent to destroy, but she didn't care. The other one was of no consequence to her, not now.
She knew she had been deceived, knew only a few beings on Celestine were capable of such deceit, but even that did not pique her interest as this man did.
He was ugly and hard-used, but there was a delicious edge of instability to him that practically called out to her. Here was passion. Here was a man she could work with, could mold. She could take this one to the very heights of power.
He would kill hundreds, thousands, perhaps bring down nations, before the evil he did ensured his own destruction.
Her eyes widened in anticipation of that long, lingering fall.
She had been sent to destroy a man, had found a boy instead. The man might be difficult to bend to her will. Might resist or reject her and force a confrontation. He had powerful servants. The gorgon in particular would be troublesome.
Here instead was an alternative. She could bend this boy, master him, raise him up, and pit the templates against each other. The entire world might tremble under the weight of that conflict.
Daji shivered with anticipation, yet backed away. First impressions could only be made once, and now was not the time. Soon though. She would see to that.
She could hardly wait.
8
The Bergsrå
There were two more fights on the third floor, and another on the fourth.
It was clear by the end of that last fight that the hobgoblins and their goblin kin were running out of steam. None of the fights were overly complicated or difficult. Abram saw the hobgoblins before they could see him. He was able to discern that sixty feet seemed to be the ordinary limit for both goblins and hobgoblins, and the advantage that gave him was crippling to his opponents. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Abram had learned to drop the rune behind his antagonists. The range on it was also sixty feet, so when the hobs spotted him and charged, his rune destroyed those who remained at range to shoot at him.
Angie turned out to be a grimly competent combatant. Her skill with her shield and battle ax was amazing to watch. Abram knew he had no real basis for comparison, but she handled much more heavily armed and armored opponents with the sort of efficiency that hinted at vastly superior skill.
Whenever the hobs or one of the goblins successfully flanked her, Abram cut it down with his lightning before it could strike. Otherwise, he remained behind her and out of sight as best he could manage, with the cowl of his robe pulled down low to hide his face.
It was an effort not to simply blast away at every creature he saw, but he knew that he had to conserve his power. He only regained a point of mana every five minutes, had no mana potions or anything similar. If he was profligate, he might run out of power before the real battle.
There was no doubt in his mind that such a fight was coming. She still hadn't appeared.
One side benefit of the tentacles is that they kept any hobs or goblins from escaping once each fight began. As far as he knew, no one had survived to share the details with whoever was in charge.
Abram had begun to rethink his earlier assumptions about the NPCs in this game though. There was obviously a morale component built into their conduct, but it impacted goblins and hobgoblins differently. The goblins would flee, but the hobgoblins seemed to almost go berserk when it was clear they weren't going to win, attacking with relentless fury until they were cut down.
As they continued to explore the fourth floor, Abram quickly recognized it as t
he floor on which he'd been kept. When they reached the side corridor for his room, he balked.
Angie — already a few feet ahead of him — paused and half-turned to look back at him curiously.
It's a game. Just a game.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"No, nothing. Lead on."
Abram's heart began hammering in his chest though, and he was soon taking short, shallow breaths.
The goblin he had killed with the key came into view, just in front of an open archway. The only feature on that archway was a spike driven into the stone at a slight upward angle at a height of three feet. Abram knew what it was for, but said nothing. There was no door. There never had been. He could already smell the stench of human waste from that room, and a few more feet were enough to tell him that entrance was the last in the hallway, which dead-ended a few feet further down.
By now his heart felt like someone had trapped a bird inside his ribcage, and he shook his head and said, "St-stop. We don't need to explore that room."
What is the MATTER with me?! It's just a goddamn game!
He couldn't do it though. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't go any closer. He was short of breath, had broken out in a cold sweat, and his hands were shaking so badly he had to clench his fists and press them against his sides.
Angie looked back at him again, and her expression melted into one of compassion as she saw him. He knew she understood, but that only made him more ashamed.
This is built into the game. Like the prologue. It's being enforced. As soon as I walk away, all this will settle down again. Just another way to keep me inside the sandbox, like those statues we'll find blocking the hallway a little further down.
"It's all right, young Abram. You don't have to see it again. Let's go back."
"Young Abram again? Am I a child now?" he said through gritted teeth.
"No. You are very much a man. But we all have limits, and yours were far exceeded in that room. There is nothing there that either of us needs to see."