by C. M. Carney
He focused on the light and his vision swam and he felt the beginnings of a headache. Then he felt a rush of air snake up his arm into his chest and then up into his head. His brain pulsed with the sudden influx of knowledge and Gryph fell to his knees in surprise.
You have learned the ANIMATE ROPE
Sphere: Air Magic - Tier: Base.
Allows the caster to animate rope (or chains, vines, or anything that can be considered a “rope”). The rope will obey basic commands and can tie, entangle, trip or squeeze opponents. The rope’s AC and HP derive from the quality of the rope. Each Tier mastered adds one rope to the total control limit.
Mana Cost: 50 mana. Damage (Squeeze): 5 points per sec. Duration: 1 minute + 5 seconds per level of air magic mastery. Cooldown: 5 minutes.
You have learned the skill AIR MAGIC
Level: 1 - Tier: Base - Skill Type: Active.
You can now wield the power of air magic. Air magic allows the user to manipulate the wind, the air around us and other gases. Air magic is used for offensive and defensive purposes, but can also summon or create creatures made of air, and is useful for animating a variety of inanimate objects. Spells that make use of electricity are the province of air magic.
Despite the headache the inrush of information punished him with, Gryph was ecstatic. He had just learned his first magic spell and the accompanying skill. Even though Animate Rope sounded rather silly he could not wait to cast it.
It turned out he’d get his chance sooner than he thought. As Gryph pulled the Padded Leather Jerkin on. He struggled to pull over his head when he heard the heavy thud of footsteps coming from further down the tunnel.
16
E ven hunched over the beast was near seven feet tall and muscled like a gorilla who’d failed a steroid test. It had a large mouth which it was gracious enough to show Gryph as it chomped down on what appeared to be a child's arm. The casual crunch of bone told Gryph a tale he wished he'd never heard.
The large beast passed him by, its small beady eyes never once glancing his way. It was likely near blind, which made sense this far underground. Its splayed nostrils suggested its sense of smell would be the inverse of its eyesight.
After a few moments the horrible crunching noise stopped and Gryph gave thanks for small miracles. With the cacophony of its meal ended the beast paused as if sensing the interloper in its living room. The massive head swung to the left and to the right, nostrils flared. Gryph hoped that the god awful smell of the room overpowered whatever stench he exuded.
A few tense heartbeats later the beast lifted the body in its right hand. It wasn’t a child, but a tiny man with striking green hair and an outfit that featured nearly every bright color of the rainbow including the crimson stain of blood.
The beast eased back onto its haunches and with a fibrous tear of muscle and skin being wrenched apart the beast shoved another arm into its mouth.
Then things got worse.
At that moment Gryph’s nose decided that playing hide and seek was a bore. A huge sneeze erupted followed by a stream of tears. The sound tore through the cave. Gryph ran.
He staggered and slipped and bounced off another mushroom stalk as he ran blindly through the cavern. Behind him the beast bellowed and tore off after him. Reaching down to the bandolier on his chest, Gryph pulled one of the throwing knives and pitched it wildly behind him.. The knife bounced off the beast, unable to penetrate its thick hide.
Gryph sensed the beast’s swing and did a duck and roll as the massive body rumbled past him. He spun up to his feet and thrust his spear towards the beast. The point took the creature high in the thigh and sunk in several inches.
With a howl that pierced Gryph’s ears, the creature stumbled and fell to one knee. A meaty fist swiped back at the offending spear before Gryph could retrieve it; snapping the shaft a few inches below the spearhead.
The beast spun and swung a fist. Gryph ducked, lost his balance and fell to his rear, scrambling backwards as fast as his frantic legs and arms would crab walk him, the broken haft of his spear clutched near useless in his hand.
The monster tugged the broken spearhead from its leg and flung it at Gryph. It sank deep into the hard packed dirt of the cavern floor an inch from his crotch. The spearhead vibrated and hummed from the impact before falling silent. Gryph looked at the beast to see the gash in its leg close and knit before his eyes.
“What the hell?”
The beast dropped to all fours and charged. In a panic Gryph scuttled back further until he bumped into the stalk of another mushroom. There was nowhere else to go. The beast got close and Gryph held the broken spear shaft in front of him, a pathetic defense against the onrush of a locomotive sized bull. The beast must have sensed the easy prey as it ducked its head and increased speed. Gryph noticed the two curved horns on the beast's head.
Perfect, Gryph thought and braced the broken spear against the base of the mushroom. He held it at an angle, gripping it with every ounce of strength. It was a desperate move with surprisingly concrete results.
The beast full of stupidity and rage charged ahead, paying no heed to the pathetic weapon. It lowered its head, preparing to batter Gryph to a pulp. Pain exploded in the beast’s head. Gryph's desperate last attack, braced against the base of mushroom stalk sent the broken shaft deep inside the beast’s left nostril, where it buried itself in the soft flesh of its brain. The beast did not fall, did not die.
"Come on," Gryph said.
The beast reared on its hind legs and bellowed. It stumbled back, flailing back and forth straining to find the source of the excruciating pain.
“That has to do it,” Gryph thought.
The beast howled again, arms spasming back and forth as it sought the spear shaft. Its eyes opened and closed as it lost control of parts of its body.
“Die, die, die,” Gryph yelled at the top of his lungs. The sound drowned by the monster's rage. Not wasting the opportunity, Gryph stood and his hands found the throwing knives at his chest. He took careful aim and threw one, two, three, four of the small enchanted blades.
Two bounced off the thick hide of the monster's face, but two more found their mark. Tiny eyeballs ruptured and a viscous mix of ocular fluid and green blood flowed down the beast’s face.
Another howl exploded from the beast. One of its massive mitts found the spear shaft and yanked it free, drawing a fountain of blood, snot and what may have been brain matter out. The beast tossed it aside and roared again.
Gryph moved quickly and silently, attempting to make his way to the exit that led further down into the Barrow. He had no clue what awaited him below, but there was no way it was worse than his current situation.
But the beast’s sense of smell, even with one ruined nostril, was incredible. It looked right at him, metal shards glinting in the dim glow. Gryph made himself as rigid as a statue and held his breath. After several thunderous heartbeats the beast turned away, cocking its head to the side.
Gryph was sweating and knew the stench pouring off of him had to be an easy mark for the beast’s sense of smell. A thought hit him. The smell of the dust. That earthy smell. It covered him, mixed with and masking his sweat.
Maybe I’ll get out of this after all, Gryph thought realizing that until now he had accepted his imminent death. The beast slowed and turned its head from side to side, nostrils expanding and contracting as it sought its prey. The damage to the left nostril had healed. Whatever this thing was, it regenerated quickly.
He had to move silently, a task far easier imagined that executed on a floor littered with bone. He took a slow step back, foot landing with a crunch. The sound, so small, drew the attention of his enemy. The blinded beast turned to him and a low growl rose from deep inside its chest.
Shit, Gryph thought. He grabbed what he guessed was a large femur and hurled it towards the back of the cavern, opposite the exit. The bone clattered against the wall and the beast’s head snapped towards the sound sniffing.
Gryph
eased himself up onto a moss covered boulder, struggling against the slick wetness and saw a path out. He grinned as the plan coalesced in his mind. “This will never work,” he thought to himself. Then he leaped from the rock to the top of the closest mushroom. He swayed for a moment on the spongy cap, forcing himself to keep his balance. Then he leaped from one mushroom to another and then to another, like that guy Mario from an ancient video game he and Brynn had played at his grandfather's house as a kid. The irony of playing a game in a game was not lost on him.
He’d traversed the top of a dozen mushrooms before the beast tracked him. It howled and Gryph laughed in triumph. He knew he’d reach the other side of the cavern long before the beast reached him. All he had to do was leap the last few caps and sprint down the tunnel to whatever lay in store down its dim passage.
Then a large bone smashed into his back, knocking him forward and off the mushroom. He hit the ground with a thud, his breath forced from him like a fist to the gut. His face landed in a heap of moldy clothing, shards of bone and rusted metal. Blood welled up from a dozen tiny nicks along his face and neck.
The beast charged. Gryph scrambled to his feet, rocks skittering underneath him. The beast’s rage induced speed was tremendous and within mere seconds it was upon him. Gryph attempted to leap towards the entrance of the tunnel, remembering how stooped over and slow the beast had been as it emerged. If he could only reach it, perhaps he would be fast enough to get away.
A few feet from the entrance, the beast caught him by the ankle and dragged him backwards. A desperate howl of fear filled the room, and Gryph realized it had come from him and not the monster. He kicked with one foot, the heel of his boot smashing into the tender flesh of the beast’s damaged eye.
The beast roared again and pulled Gryph back, tossing him against the base of a mushroom. Gryph gasped for breath as the beast charged, mouth open wide like the maw of hell.
On instinct Gryph shot his left arm up to protect his face and the beast’s mouth came down hard on the small buckler attached to Gryph’s forearm. The beast chewed like a dog on a bone, all slobber and intensity. The wood and iron of the small shield splintered and cracked.
Gryph was about to die. He was resigned to this fate. The human brain does odd things when it has accepted death. We examine our regrets and sometimes think on those we love. Gryph’s thoughts drifted to Brynn and the look of fear on her face in her video. He wanted to see her again, her face split by a smile instead of darkened by fear and worry. He was going to die and had not once used magic.
You idiot, Gryph thought. He set his mind to casting Animate Rope and the fingers of his right hand, as if commanded by an outside force, moved through a series of motions. A cool rush of air shot down his arm as he grabbed the loop of rope. The rope throbbed with power and Gryph tossed it at the creature.
The rope moved like a snake and coiled around the beast's legs. It slithered up its torso pinning one arm against the creature’s bulbous head. The rope was cheap and Gryph suspected that it would not last long, but he had bought himself a few moments.
He had seconds to act, so he pulled the dagger from his waist with his right hand. He thrust up and into the beast’s open mouth, sinking the eight inch blade into the roof of the creature's mouth just as its teeth bit into Gryph’s forearm.
Gryph’s health bar dipped by 25% and he screamed in agony. A prompt popped into his vision.
Debuff added. You are bleeding. 5pts damage per second.
Both elf and monster howled in pain. The beast opened its mouth and bellowed. The bottom row of teeth still skewered Gryph’s wrist, trapping his arm. Time slowed. Gryph’s life was now measured in seconds.
Gryph ordered the rope to coil tighter trying to pull the beast away from him, or at least making it harder for the beast to bite down again. The monster strained, fury and pain enhancing its strength.
Time slowed as Gryph heard the rope snapping. Rotten gobbets of flesh sprayed from the creature's teeth. Blood poured down Gryph's arm. A large tooth stuck through his wrist. Then he saw the sapphire glint from the ring on his finger.
Despite the agony of impending death Gryph smiled. “Sayonara, fucker.”
17
G ryph sent a mental command to the Ring of Minor Air Shield and in a fraction of a second a sphere of solid air exploded from the ring. It expanded and took the beast’s head with it. Gryph thought he saw a last look of stunned incomprehension cross the beast's face, but then the beast had no head and so, no face.
To Gryph’s irritation, the shimmering sphere of air blinked out. The force of the beast’s skull losing to the sphere of solid air used up the shield’s health points. Gore, blood, brains and far too much mucus cascaded onto Gryph, followed by the beast’s body. The weight hit him, causing ribs to crack and lungs to expel air. He lost another 10% of his health and it continued to dip.
Gryph sensed the prompt in the corner of his vision and ignored it. Yeah, debuffs Added, I know. He’d defeated the beast, but its leaking, fetid corpse was crushing the life out of him.
He was suffocating as his hit points ticked downwards, approaching zero. He heaved and lifted a small edge of the beast’s corpse. Just enough for him to wriggle to freedom.
He inhaled to sate his burning lungs, but also inhaled the fetid slop that covered him. The taste and smell made him gag, and he coughed, rolled onto his side and vomited.
I am alive, he rejoiced, before his thoughts once again dwelled on the idea that people entered this hellish place for fun. He pushed the thoughts and leaned against the stalk of a mushroom and downed a health potion. Warmth pulsed into him as his health filled. Closing his eyes he inhaled. In the corner of his vision his prompt indicator blinked.
You have earned 15,600 XP for slaying a Baalgrath
You have reached Level 2, 3, 4 and 5.
You have 24 (20 Base + 4 Godhead Bonus) unused Attribute Points.
You have 5 unused Perk Points.
You have reached Level 2 in Air Magic
You have reached Level 5 in Analyze
That was a lot of prompts, Gryph would have smiled, except being covered in stinking gore was a mood killer. He now knew the disgusting beast was a baalgrath. He wasn't sure if it was because his Analyze skill had leveled or if it was a prompt given because he had slain the beast. Apparently killing a high level creature spiked Analyze, revealing the basic stats of the beast. Convenient, if odd.
He stood and kicked the headless corpse several times. He knew it was stupid, but it felt amazing. After a few moments his rage calmed, and he laughed. He stared at the beast and used Analyze.
Baalgrath: Level 21 - H:320/S:520/M:0/SP:0
Baalgrath are not natural beasts. They are the product of ancient magical experimentation, which combined the ancient wyrmynn race of lizard people with mountain trolls. Baalgrath are not the most intelligent or cunning creatures, but are tough and difficult to kill. They’re extensive regeneration abilities allow them to heal nearly any wound in time. Baalgrath are omnivores, but they rather enjoy feasting on the smaller sentient races that live on the surface. Solitary creatures in the wild, their wyrmynn cousins often keep baalgrath as pets. Perks: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
Gryph noticed the metal collar around the thick, headless neck. The collar had a thick ring attached scored with metal on metal abrasions.
“This thing was a pet?” His eyes went to the tunnel heading further into the Barrow. “Shit.” What lay down that tunnel? Wyrmynn? Whatever the heck those were? Gryph knew it was the only way out.
He retrieved his throwing knives and the tip of his broken spear from the corpse. Maybe it could be repaired. He suspected that magic items were not common in the Realms. He wiped the blood from the knives when he got a prompt.
You have harvested Baalgrath Blood. This rare and valuable ingredient has many uses in both Alchemy and Crafting. You suspect it could make a Potion of Health Regeneration and other unidentified effects. You also get th
e sense it could craft an item that increases health regeneration and other unidentified effects.
You have learned the skill HARVEST: Level 1.
The Realms are full of amazing ingredients that alchemists, Crafters and Artificers can use to create wondrous potions, healing salves and deadly poisons. The Harvest skill allows you to identify and harvest these ingredients. 50% chance to harvest ingredients. Every ingredient has 4 or more effects. At the Base Tier you are able to identify the Base Effect.
“Sweet,” Gryph exclaimed as he pulled his Alchemy Kit from his Inventory. It was a leather box the size of a briefcase. It contained a variety of alchemical equipment and a hundred small vials he guessed were for collecting and storing ingredients.
He pulled a pump used to extract liquids and attached an empty vial to the end. He spent the next ten minutes siphoning the thick green black blood from the baalgrath’s corpse. His 50% chance to harvest was annoying as he failed half the time. He had collected a nice haul. He even leveled Harvest which increased his success rate by 2%.
You have reached Level 2 in Harvest.
Gryph considered trying to make a few potions with the kit. Then reconsidered. He didn't know what ingredients combined well with others. Surviving the huge beast only to drink a poison cocktail of one's own making was not a dignified way to go.
He stuffed the kit back into his Inventory, again amazed by the weight and space reducing powers of his satchel. On Earth it would be the greatest invention of all time, but here in the Realms they gave it to every Tom, Dick and Sally. If he were to survive facing the wyrmynn he needed better weapons. It was time for some looting.