by C. M. Carney
Ovrym snapped his head up, about to warn the man regardless of consequence, when a spiny tentacle twined around the man’s ankle and dragged him into the water. Ovyrm nearly jumped into the water, but fear took a hold of him. Ancestral memories rose in his mind. The arboleth had enslaved his ancestors, perverting their souls into a servitor race that had been a scourge on all the Realms.
He froze, unable to move. His thoughts fled into the past, back to the boy, the apprentice in the Order. An entourage had arrived that had struck fear and respect into his master. Ovrym was ordered to stay in his room, but he’d felt compelled by something he did not understand and snuck onto the balcony above the Grand Adjudicator’s reception room.
That is when he saw them. Xydai like himself, but older, stronger and terrifying. Even the Grand Adjudicator had shown these men and women deference. He learned that they were the Purity, hunters of aetherials.
The Purity had come for help, but the Grand Adjudicator refused. The Order were upholders of laws he said, not warriors and assassins. Ovyrm had studied the Writs and knew the Grand Adjudicator spoke true, but he also knew the real reason he refused. The Grand Adjudicator was afraid.
The Mistress of the Purity, a tall woman with the same yellow eyes and dusky skin as Ovyrm, stepped forward hand held above her head. The Grand Adjudicator then saw what the Purity faced. Ovrym knew because he saw it too.
Ovrym was elsewhere. A small army of Purity stood on a blasted plain as several tall beings in flowing robes emerged from the mists. The squid like humanoids were illurryth, aetherial adepts of Thought Magic. Flashes of telepathic energy erupted from the illurryth and xydai fell. The Purity were fierce and would not go down without a fight. They struck back with magic and blade and the battle turned.
But the illurryth were merely servants and their masters were about to enter the fray. The arboleth, massive aquatic demons ensconced in hovering, water filled tanks of metal and glass, emerged from the mists. Terrific mental assaults poured from the arboleth and pummeled the Purity with waves of psychic pain.
Xydai fell screaming and the arboleth pushed the Purity back. Yet, they did not kill their enemies. Instead, they took them as hosts for their young. These powerful enemies of the arboleth would be infected and reborn as illurryth. They would become Other.
Ovrym felt it all as if it had happened to him. In a way it had happened to him.
Ovyrm could still remember the psychic scream that tore from him that day. He had never felt such fear, such despotic evil as he did that day. The images halted and the tall xydai woman locked eyes with Ovrym. Sympathy poured from her and her thoughts soothed Ovyrm with love and kindness.
He’d spent a week in the infirmary recovering, his master never leaving his side. The Grand Adjudicator visited, gazing on him with a kindness few had ever seen on the old man’s face.
The Mistress of the Purity came to him as well and spoke in a soft voice. For the first time in his life he felt what most children in the Realms took for granted. He knew what it felt like to have a mother. He could still remember the warmth of her touch, the odd floral scent of her hair. She had taught him of his people and given him a gift.
“An icon to keep you safe,” she had said of the intricately carved emerald held fast in a necklace of platinum and mithril. Ovrym kept it with him always.
Ovrym returned to the present, and he found his left hand had drawn the necklace from within his jerkin. Caressing the icon brought him comfort. He closed his eyes and banished his own fears.
He looked down at the still water.
“I am sorry I am weak,” Ovyrm said to the doomed man.
26
O nce again Gryph was drowning. It was becoming a habit he did not enjoy. The tentacle wrapped around his leg pulled him down fast and hard. He saw his Stamina bar plummet, as the air in his lungs grew scarce. His Health bar also sank at a steady rate and his mind became foggy.
Debuff: You have been poisoned with aetherial neurotoxin. This toxic substance causes surges of pain, mental confusion and if left untreated brain death. It does little damage as it incapacitates prey instead of killing. 2 dmg/sec
Well Shit, Gryph thought. He stabbed down at the tentacle with his spear, slicing into its spongy surface. The tentacle detached and disappeared leaving rivulets of black blood that turned the water brackish. Gryph kicked towards the surface, but before he got five feet, another tentacle snapped from the depths and wrapped around his waist.
This tentacle was larger and stronger than the last one, covered in sticky cup shaped pads. Crustacean like nodules covered most of the exposed surface, acting as armor. It squeezed Gryph, forcing the little remaining air from his lungs and pulled him deeper into the darkness.
Panic took ahold of Gryph, heightened by the venom causing surges of confusion in his mind. There was something at the edge of his thoughts. Something tickling at his mind. Something he was desperately trying to remember.
He heard a voice in his head screaming and realized it was his own voice. It was screaming, Air, air, air.
Well, no shit subconscious Sherlock, Gryph raged at his inner voice. His lungs filled with water and his inner asshole continued to yell Air, air, air at him. Then, in a distant part of his mind he understood.
Air Magic. Gryph shoved his hand into his inventory and extracted the Halo of Air spell stone. He held it tightly and tried to concentrate, but his mind was adrift, sinking with his body into the depths of the suffocating waters.
He was losing consciousness. As his mind went to dark a tingle of warmth throbbed in his palm. A torrent of air swirled around his arm and into his mind. The surge of power exploded into his mind, jarring him awake.
You have learned the spell Halo of Air
Sphere: Air Magic - Tier: Base.
Allows the caster to summon a bubble of continuously renewed air around his or her head. This is used for breathing underwater or anywhere else where fresh, clean air is needed.
Mana Cost: 30 - Casting Time: Instantaneous - Duration: 5 minutes + 1 per Air Magic level
Cooldown: None.
Gryph cast Halo of Air and the water exploded away from his head in a sphere that measured about two feet. He tried to gulp in the fresh, amazing air, but vomited up copious amounts of water instead. The halo siphoned the bile soiled water away from Gryph’s face.
He was breathing normally, but his body still throbbed with pain from the neurotoxin. He pulled another spell stone from his inventory and soon knew Detoxification.
You have learned the spell Detoxification
Sphere: Life Magic - Tier: Base.
Allows the caster to cleanse themselves or another of the ill effects of poison, venom, spores, gases or other attacks that cause poison damage.
Mana Cost: 40 - Casting Time: Instantaneous - Effectiveness: Reduces Poison Damage by 2 points/sec per level. Poison is eliminated when the reduction per second is greater than the damage per second - Cooldown: Five minutes.
You have learned the skill LIFE MAGIC - Level: 1 - Tier: Base - Skill Type: Active.
You can now wield the power of life magic. Life Magic allows the user to tap into the animating forces of life and sentience itself. Life magic makes use of defensive and healing spells, but it also has some potent offensive spells. Note: Users of life magic are beloved for their abilities to heal, to enable crops to grow quicker and to make life better.
A quick casting of Detoxification cleansed his body of the toxin, but he was still being dragged deeper into the darkness. His eyes, perhaps shielded from the water by the halo, saw details of this watery underworld. Then he saw the beast that was dragging him downward and wished he hadn't.
Gryph screamed as the beast came into view. It looked like a primeval eel had mated violently with a squid. Its body was long and bulbous. It had a huge singular eye atop a swirling vortex of teeth that spun in concentric circles. Two large tentacles, one dragging Gryph down, protruded from the arboleth's underside. Four smaller tentacles emerged f
rom its back, the underside covered in needle like spines. One still bled from the wound Gryph had inflicted. He used Analyze, thankful for the boost given him by the cowl.
Arboleth: Level 42 - H:1004/S:820/M:900/SP:0 - Arboleth are horrific aberrations. Natives of the aetherial realm, they are among the most ancient of all sentient races. They are highly intelligent, incredibly cruel and vastly dangerous. They are masters of both aetherial and thought magic, spheres normally incompatible in one being. This suggests that they were birthed in the earliest era of creation when the thought and aetherial realms clashed to give birth to the cosmos as we know it. Strengths: Unknown. Immunities: Unknown. Weakness: Unknown.
The weight of impending doom threatened to crush Gryph’s psyche. He was Level 7 and this offense to all sanity was level fricking 42. Fear and adrenaline built in his mind creating a cocktail of horror that Gryph wouldn’t serve to his worst enemy.
The beast’s mouth pulsed in an awful display of gyrating flesh and spinning teeth. Even with the sound dampening of the water, the roar hit Gryph like a fist. The arboleth's anger surged up the tentacle that continued to drag Gryph down, and despite the armor he felt a rib pop.
Gryph cast Flying Stalactite and watched as it slowly moved towards the arboleth's eye. The water slowed the missile's pace just enough for the arboleth to smack the stalactite aside with its other large tentacle.
The creature’s eye pulsed with light and a wave of energy shimmered towards him like the waves of heat pouring off a desert highway. It passed over Gryph and his brain exploded in a nova of migraines, one piled atop another in flashes of light and pain. Layers of sanity peeled back like a rotten onion and he knew he was losing his mind.
The effect passed, but the damage was done. Not only was his Health plummeting, but the sea beast had dragged him closer. Its mouth gaped and the rings and rows of teeth spun. Gryph was being dragged into a massive, living garbage disposal.
Gryph thrust forward with his spear seeking to pincushion the arboleth's massive eye. The large tentacle was there again, moving much faster that Gryph thought possible. It smacked Gryph’s spear thrust aside, the force of the deflection nearly tearing the spear from his grip.
Pain scoured both ankles again as the smaller tentacles gripped his legs, puncturing the leather of his boots and dumping more poison into him. He kicked his legs frantically, but could not earn his freedom. Another tentacle grabbed onto his spear arm dumping more poison into him.
The arboleth brought him close to its mouth and Gryph knew the end was nigh.
I’m sorry Brynn. I’ve failed you, Gryph thought. He told himself he wouldn't close his eyes. That he’d face his death head on. But as the beast dragged him towards its mouth all his bravado leaked from him and with a whimper, he slammed his eyelids closed.
Nothing happened. The pain of the poison still burned in his legs, but he was still remarkably alive. He eased one of his eyes open to find the arboleth staring at him from its unblinking eye.
“WHAT ARE YOU?”
Gryph did not hear the creature speak, but heard it in his mind. He blinked stupidly. “What?”
“WHAT ARE YOU? YOU ARE… DIFFERENT!”
The voice was getting louder and his mind fogged. Whether it was from this psychic invasion or the poison speeding through his veins or both he did not know. He knew he had to do something. The arboleth was the most difficult opponent he’d yet faced in the Realms by several factors. He was only alive by the whim of the abomination’s curiosity.
“ANSWER!”
The creature raged and wrenched Gryph’s legs apart, threatening to tear him in two like a wishbone. He swung with his free hand and the golden glint of his bracers drew his eye. He remembered his new gear and a desperate plan formed in his mind. It would need timing and luck and still might end with him become arboleth shit. Assuming this thing shit. But he had no other choice.
He closed his eyes and focused on his core of Mana. He pulsed it down three different paths at the same time. The concentration was near impossible with the poison clouding his brain and the fear boring into his soul, but then a warm calm settled over him. A blanket of hope enveloped him. Gryph wondered if it was his spec ops training.
Gryph squinted his eyes shut and three things happened in quick succession.
First, Gryph activated the Moon Flare ability of his breastplate. A flash of light erupted from his chest scalding the arboleth's eye. In the near blackness of the underground lake the pulse was brighter than a flash of lightning. The life energy burned at the arboleth's body for a massive 280 points of damage. A horrid mental scream raged from the arboleth, as a surge of healing warmth flowed over Gryph. His pain eased and his Health neared 70%.
Next, Gryph activated the speed doubling power of his boots just as the arboleth's tentacles released their grip on him. They flailed wildly, striking Gryph with glancing blows. The newfound speed flashed through his nerves and he avoided most of the beast’s blind attacks.
Finally, he pumped more mana into his bracers activating their magnetic control and assigned the field to his spear. With a mental flick he launched the spear forward with much more force than he could ever manage with muscle power alone. The spear torpedoed thought the water and found its mark, embedding itself in the arboleth's still blind eye.
You have scored a Critical Hit. 5X Damage.
The arboleth's health fell by another 182 points. A mental scream unlike anything Gryph had ever felt erupted from the mind of the tortured beast and he could feel the fear tear at its mind. Gryph had no sympathy and quickly chugged a mana potion. Power pulsed through his body and he activated the bracers again, this time flicking his wrist ensuring an extra 80 points of damage as his spear ripped from the beast's eye and flew back to his hand.
Despite the incredible damage Gryph had dealt the arboleth, the abomination still had nearly 50% of its health, and he suspected with 900 mana the creature could heal itself. He needed to keep it off balance. He pumped more mana into the bracers and shot the spear forwards again.
Another Critical Hit and another 182 points of damage as the spear punished the arboleth's eye again. More viscous fluid poured from the wound. The beast flailed. At first Gryph thought it was trying to locate its tormentor, but then he noticed a pattern to the gyrations.
The damn thing is casting, Gryph thought in alarm.
Gryph tried to pour more mana into his bracers, but both the bracer’s five-second cooldown and his dangerously low mana bar flared at him. The spear remained lodged in the beast's eye far out of reach. Gryph had just enough mana one spell.
He cast Animate Rope and tossed his new spider silk rope towards the arboleth. It snapped forward like an eel and zipped around the beast’s tentacles. On Gryph’s command they tightened, disrupting the beast’s casting.
Gryph grasped the other end of the rope in his left hand and commanded the rope to pull him forward. He sped towards the beast hoping that his aim was on mark. If he was too low he would end up inside the creature’s thousand toothed mouth.
But his aim was true, and he landed on the arboleth's head, right above the eye. He grabbed the shaft of his spear with his right hand and twisted. With its tentacles entangled the arboleth could do nothing but try to buck Gryph off. But every jerk pushed the spear deeper and caused more damage.
“WHAT ARE YOU?”
The creature’s terrified voice sounded small in Gryph’s mind. Its immortal existence was ending, and it was desperate to understand how it had come to this end.
I am your death, Gryph thought back at it. Gryph yanked the spear from the arboleth's eye and thrust down with all his strength. The spear pierced the back of the eye, puncturing the thin layer of bone behind it. His arms sunk up to the elbows into the mucus of the abomination’s eye. Gryph pushed harder.
The spear impaled the arboleth's brain and the creature's foul thoughts blinked out like a blown light bulb. The beast's body sank into the murk. Gryph opened his mouth to scream in triumph, but
instead of yelps of joy a cacophony of air bubbles surged from his mouth. In the final moments of the battle, mind clouded by adrenaline and rage, he hadn’t noticed the Halo of Air spell had expired.
His health bar plummeted. Had he survived the arboleth only to drown?
Gryph’s chest burned as his health bar sank. He attempted to cast Halo of Air, but his blue mana bar blinked at him with the rhythm of laughter. Perhaps it was the last vengeance of the arboleth.
He dug for a potion. With no time to be selective he had to hope it was a health or mana potion. Either would suit his purposes, but if he selected a stamina potion it would mean his death. He popped the cork and crammed the vial to his mouth and sucked.
Drinking underwater was difficult in the best of circumstances, but when you are nearly drowning, it is orders of magnitudes more complicated. He tasted brackish water and wondered if the potion would be effective.
Stars popped behind his eyes as the pain in his lungs faded. He was dying. Then he felt a rush of energy through his body. A mana potion. As he passed out Gryph's fingers moved through the gestures of casting.
27
G ryph’s mind was adrift, floating in a world of dim light and weightlessness.
I am dead, Gryph thought. There was no sound in this strange afterlife. No pearly gates. No endless hunting grounds. No field of honorable battle. Nothing.
Gryph drifted for an unknowable time before his back bumped against something large and spongy. He turned and forced his eyes to focus. A massive eye stared back at him. Gryph screamed, and a cough wracked his body. He vomited a massive volume of water and watched as it siphoned away from him.