A World Called Memory
Page 41
After looking over the bodies, we quick marched to grab the rogue’s body back by the stairs, and then we propped them all into a neat little row. Next I cast my Identify spell, and once again, luck was with me.
+ Ingriss “Gold-Digger” Maynum +
/ Level 43 Rogue, Male Gold-Dwarf /
[53 Minutes to Respawn]
It seemed he wasn’t actually fully dead, but shortly off for respawn. It was likely I was going to see him again sometime. Fucker deserved perma-death, but I guessed one can’t have everything.
On my interface was the following:
/ Thrice Mugged by the same person /
/ Isserad's Luck +39% /
/ Isserad's Chance / Roll ? Y / N
I blinked on yes, and the system shortly came up with:
/ Isserad’s Luck /
Cordaen: 57 + 39 = 96, Critical Success!
Ingriss: 23 +17 = 40, Failure
/ You may now Loot your opponent /
/ To the victor go the spoils! /
When I touched Ingriss’s body, still with Identify running, I could see he had a number of magic items. Some of his rings (he had eight of them) I would be able to identify, some not. He had magical earrings too, a magic axe and shortsword, two magic daggers, a full set of magic armour, lower quality than mine, and the magic crossbow that glowed red. One gold ring was inlaid with a large red ruby, and looked suspiciously like one of the rings he’d stolen from me. But as that kind of thing was mostly identical, unless you marked them especially, I couldn’t be sure. In any case, I was guessing it was a Ring of Greater Fire Resistance. The other rings seemed mostly lower quality, mostly minor and one or two standard. But those weren’t what I was looking for.
When I found the Bag of Holding—my Bag of Holding!—actually sewn to the inside of his studded leather armour, the system prompted me:
/ Loot this item? / Y / N
I blinked on yes.
/ Thrice Mugged /
/ Isserad’s Chance - Critical Success /
/ 4 loot options remaining /
I thought about that notice and realised what had happened. “Shit, Elz, I’m really going to rob this guy,” I murmured.
“Yeah boss, neva liked that shortie.” Elz rubbed his hands together eagerly. Rather than the usual single item that could be looted each time you killed or robbed a seelie being, as Ingriss had robbed me three times before, the system was now allowing me to take more of his items: three plus one extra item for killing him just now, and a final extra item for Critical Success with Isserad’s Luck. Five items total. Haha! Sucker. I laughed out loud at that.
I ripped the stitching as carefully as I could, and all the gear in the Bag of Holding rained down on the corpse, clinging to his body like flies on toffee. Before going further with Ingriss’s gear, we continued to scan all of them while the spell lasted. Elz took note of which items showed up as rare or elite—plus one legendary item!
The half-elf rogue was fairly high level also:
+ Yorbl Usher +
/ Level 41 Rogue, Male Half-Elf /
[49 Minutes to Respawn]
The burly fighter, was the highest level of the lot—but it looked like he’d taken the brunt of the damage from, well, everything. He’d not lasted long.
+ Brick Chasain +
/ Level 45 Warrior, Male Human /
[46 Minutes to respawn]
The other two rogues were level 39, and Lilac was level 40. She must have been working hard, considering she was lower level than me about eight months ago.
+ Lilacia Hollyoak +
/ Level 40 Mage, Female Half-Elf /
[Deceased]
She was dead-dead. I shared a long look with Elz, and he smirked. Yeah, right. I actually didn’t feel much about this one way or the other. She tried to kill me, and got burnt hanging out with the wrong crowd.
Most of them had a few magic rings, all had some magic armour and magic weapons of various kinds—mostly daggers and shortsords on the rogues, and a couple of broadswords and an elite small shield on the warrior.
After a short discussion with Elz, we looted the following:
+ Ingriss “Gold-Digger” Maynum +
/ Lesser Bag of Holding /
/ The Burn / Crossbow of Firebolts /
[Unidentified]
/ Archeel the Whisper / Axe of Throwing /
[Unidentified]
/ Earrings of Health / x2
[Unidentified]
Money Pouch
+ Yorbl Usher +
/ Humble Gladius /
[Unidentified]
+ Lilacia Hollyoak +
/ Shadow Leather Belt / Elite or Legendary
[Unidentified]
+ Brick Chasain +
Money Pouch
+ Semedere Boaz +
Money Pouch
+ Geis Snudcher +
Money Pouch
The coins inside the money pouches came to:
27 zorb 23 dran 15 oll
13 zorb 3 dran 75 jeb
8 zorb 36 dran 21 jeb 117 oll
3 zorb 117 oll
Total 51 zorb and some change
It was quite an amazing haul, all told. I only hoped it wouldn’t bite me in the ass later. Ultimately I didn’t care, as Ingriss had it coming, and anyone associated with him. We stashed the gear in my newly equipped Bag of Holding, a welcome relief.
“Did you feel the change, boss?” Elz asked, his dark eyebrows quirked.
“You mean the necromancer down below?” He nodded, expression grim. “Yes, I did. Even now I can feel it. The creature’s presence is… like a stain. Let’s go clean it up, eh?”
He clapped. “Yeah!”
Somewhere in the mess of that last fight, I had gained level 35. With some renewed energy, I allocated my new stats, feeling the rush as my body changed, and my mind expanded—after adding a point to vitality and to three to intellect. I had been noticing that my agility was also just feeling… better. The change had been so gradual at first. I had barely noticed but now… I moved more fluidly, in and out of combat, gracefully, without thinking or effort. Strangely enough, this was even affecting how I spoke and interacted with others. It was like I was becoming an elf not just in thought, but in deed. At the same time, I didn’t feel like I was leaving my humanity behind—quite the opposite. It was simply that I was becoming more what I should be, coming into my true potential.
/ Cordaen Sequoia / Level 35 Warrior-Priest /
STR 26
INT 42
AGI 55
VIT 53
CHA 34
LCK 24
Health: 1590 (+50%)
Mana: 966 (+15%)
Stamina: 1010
Chapter 38
We pushed open both large doors and entered the church-like chamber. Down the very end, seated on the throne, was a decayed-looking elf in flowing midnight-blue robes, holding a gnarled wooden staff with a gem clasped at the top. It stood up from the throne and motioned us closer.
“You! Fleshlings! Thieves!” it called. “Where are my harvestingsss? My collection, my morselsss?” It gnashed its pointy teeth. “Come closer. Perhaps you will feed my firesss...”
I had a rather odd, but special moment of happiness then. It was one thing to sense that the evil overlord of the ruins had finally crept out from its hidey-hole, it was another thing to finally see it with my own eyes. It was also a huge relief; another weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I looked at Elz, who smirked a little, and gave the creature the universal middle finger gesture—digitus impudicus. With his other hand he was grabbing his crotch and thrusting his hips. “Fuck you!” he shouted, as if it wasn’t clear enough. He wasn’t one to make much noise normally, and particularly not in combat, but it was a good time for an exception.
I cast Breath of Life, first on myself and then on him. Then I activated Holy Smite. We both sprinted in. I pulled ahead slightly, while Elz took a slight risk and faded. Charge!—I slammed into the risen elf, forcing it back a little into the
throne. My spear pierced its stomach, but was almost flung out of my hands as the creature twisted. The strike was fouled by its cloak and hidden armour underneath, and didn’t push all the way through.
The undead elf was grinning madly with a deep and abiding insanity. It looked similar to the other immortal spirits—sunken face, black eyes, and grey rubbery skin that looked melted. Scrambling to get better footing on the steps beneath my feet, I engaged again, while a series of glowing red missiles flew from its outstretched hand, all toward me. I tried to dodge and deflect and managed to knock one to the side, but the other ten or so impacted with a fiery whoosh. Ah, that burns, nasty bastard. I activated Heart of Oak and struck again, scoring it along one arm—damage, yes, but no blood.
A few things happened in quick succession. The aura of the creature now began to pulse black—and expanded out in a bilious cloud. The main doors at the far end clanged shut with an ominous loud click. Locked in! The wooden doors Elz and I had previously spiked, then tried to open with a sound like the grinding of gears, but they didn’t budge. Lastly, the creature’s staff flared with a massive pulse of air. I was knocked off my feet and slid back on my ass, crashing into a couple of the stone pews. Feeling bruised ribs, I scrambled up nevertheless.
The creature sauntered down to the edge of the throne’s steps, where the footing was clearly better, and was now motioning with one hand. “Come, my brethren, come,” the necromancer intoned, “Serve me in death as you could not in life. Attack these interlopers and rend the flesh from their bonesss.”
The black aura seemed to be causing me a kind of debuff—I noticed my agility was visibly weakened and while I stood close, it sucked away at my health. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to slow down my healing powers. My own aura was sparking a little in small silver flashes, and seemed just as effective as ever, giving me a boost of confidence and skill against the creature.
Thinking this wasn’t going so bad, I struck at the creature’s necrotic flesh with Holy Smite, a silver burst of energy releasing as I impacted one arm. Following up with some rapid strikes, I probed its defences. It was smart, avoiding my strikes to its head and torso as best it could—plus its mage armour and cloak were decreasing the power of many of my blows.
That’s when Elz tried his backstab. He was using both swords, and looked as though he’d done a giant leap off the decayed padding of the throne itself. Once grounded, he pulled back his weapons, but there was no blood again—though it seemed he’d hurt the creature at least.
The necromancer swayed and turned slightly to take in Elz, and with one hand gestured at him. A line of sickly black essence snaked up and out of the creature’s bilious aura and latched onto Elz’s arm… and began draining him. Life leech! The lad was looking a bit sick in the face, but otherwise determined.
He backed off around the side of the stairs, but the line of black essence followed him, still latched on. Instead of striking the creature with my next attack, I lashed out near Elz with my spear, and summoned a brief burst of light at the same time. It ripped through the tentacle aura and split the amorphous stuff apart… and Elz was released. The creature had partly healed itself from that little effort. We’d have to pick up the pace now.
“Fools!” it croaked. “I am under Maor’s full power; your death is certain! Come, my brethren, come!” Its staff seemed to be glowing with increased power, the head of its wooden claw opening up. A round white gem—a bit like a pearl and about the size of my fist—rose up and floated above the head of the staff. It blinked. What?
Suddenly the necromancer was also encased in a glowing red shield—not quite like what Lilac had been using, it was shiny and complete, surrounding the elf in a bubble. Then, with another gesture of its clawed hand, the eye floating above the staff swivelled to stare directly at me… and I was stunned!
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the side doors were beginning to smoke, and the sounds of yelping and scratching could be heard—the skeletal hell-hounds looked to be trying to exit. Elz had faded in the brief respite, while I was a sitting duck. Another round of fiery missiles impacted me about the torso, all landing with maximum effect. I was down on 60% health despite my healing spells.
Then the stun wore off, and I motioned Elz away, wherever he was. I backed off myself. Looking about, I could see Elz appear, ducking around the rear of the throne. Quickly glancing to the side, I could see the doors we’d spiked were now fully burning, and wouldn’t last much longer. There were glowing, misshapen figures crouched down behind, breathing fire onto the wood. The area was starting to fill with smoke, which wasn’t dispersing—unlike the blue eldritch fire to either side of the throne.
When Elz started throwing holy water—mostly hidden behind the large throne—it was clear the necromancer didn’t know what to do about that. It seemed to cause it both pain and some confusion—it looked around and blinked owlishly, unable to detect the source of the punishment.
“Ssssaaa!” it cried out as its decayed flesh sizzled and smoked. “Burnnsss, it burnsss!”
Taking that moment as a prime opportunity, I Charged again. This time I managed a clean hit through its lower ribs. This spear was awesome, the bonus damage to undead was so good—I could feel it targeting the creature’s flesh like a heat-seeking missile. Pulling the spearhead out, however, was like trying to remove a log from thick mud.
Now the creature seemed to be down on about 70% health. Unfortunately, the side doors behind me collapsed simultaneously, and while I struck at the necromancer and Elz continued to throw vials of holy water, out loped the creature’s pets. Four misshapen elves, part biped, part quadruped, all skeletal and glowing fiery red. The necromancer gestured back toward Elz and the floating eye turned to glare at him. This time it wasn’t a stun, instead his movements visibly slowed, as he exaggeratedly dragged out one holy water vial after the other.
Two of the misshapen came to sit beside the necromancer, and two prowled behind me, waiting—fanged elongated jaws held wide. I had an intuitive sense of what might happen next, but I held my ground. The fiery breath that struck me, and overflowed past me into the necromancer—only to be rebuffed by its fireshield—did not burn me as badly as it should have.
We had upgraded the previous trick. I was currently wearing Elz’s Boots of the Leaflord, and with the second Greater Scroll of Fire Resistance cast, I was standing tall on 65% Fire Resistance. The fire and burning hurt, but as I wasn’t dead yet, it was time to rock and roll.
When the necromancer went to slam its staff down, I leaped away from its wind-buffet knockback. Not to be deterred, I summoned the brightest light I could, using most of my mana in one go. The eye floating above the necromancer blinked suddenly shut, and both the creature and all its minions stood blinking and howling in the blinding light.
One hand to its eyes, the creature tried to spot where I was, peering through the smoke. Even though Elz was the one doing it the most damage, with the holy water sizzling down to its very bones, I was the one it was still after.
“Persistent fleshling…” it complained, “…why won’t you die?” The necromancer’s cavernous tones were irritating me, like an actor in a bad play. The effect of the holy water was also interfering with its unholy aura, the bilious cloud contained to the creature’s body alone—it was unable to utilise its life leech. Some of the water was also splashed and puddling at its feet, and beginning to affect the two minions by its side, causing them to sizzle and whine from the caustic effect.
With the time the confusion gave me, I ran out of their radius and quickly danced over to the far side, touching one foot to one of the remaining elemental runes we’d prepared. The smoke was bad and made me cough, but didn’t seem to be getting any worse.
Now, here’s the thing. Elemental traps (minor, standard and greater) all had a couple of basic features. You could set them to a timer—one to three seconds—and when grouped appropriately, after a slow one was triggered, the consecutive blasts of the faster ones that f
ollowed would backlash across the room, encompassing a greater number of targets. We’d set that configuration upstairs, and it had worked a treat on Ingriss’s group.
Another option was to link them together—you could cluster them in groups of three in ever widening circles and then have only one of them linked as a keystone. With this set up, you could walk on them all day until the very first key rune was triggered. This is what I did now.
The first was a cold rune, so I took damage from that up my leg. The next cold rune went off, a metre distant, and the next, another metre. The rest were clustered shock runes, all around and in front of the throne. Elz and I had figured that most undead were either immune or resistant to cold. This was known. Plus, the necromancer and the misshapen would likely both be resistant to fire. This was an educated guess. That left the shock runes for them. All eleven of those remaining went off.
As multiple jagged spikes of electricity erupted from the floor, the necromancer hopped about madly, while the misshapen hunched down, stunned. One of those keeled over, bones deanimating and fading to a dull alabaster. I activated Frenzy (I’d been reluctant to do this earlier, when a fight like this might last longer than expected) and got a clear spot… Charge! Another critical hit, and we had the creature down on 20% health. We’re going to do it! I struck quickly with more power and speed than before, continuing to damage the creature.
Elz was still throwing holy water, albeit a little slowly, and timing it one by one for best effect. He was pacing it out, as he could only get a maximum of three of those stacking damage over three rounds. He was also pulling them from my Bag of Holding—best instant access for rapid fire, and no spills or breakage.
With a huge leap and slide back, I avoided yet another of the necromancer’s wind-knockbacks, hopping over one set of pews, and around one of the hell-hounds—which unfortunately took the opportunity to breathe more fire upon me in a narrow gout of flame. When they breathed out, their bottom jaws unhinged sickeningly, and the fire gushed forth like a mini-flame thrower. They didn’t seem inclined to attack me in melee, likely because I was so close to their overlord.