by Sam Ferguson
Brian opened the door and held it wide so she could enter. Her armor clanked softly as she moved. Every bit of her plate mail was exquisitely perfect. Geometric designs that reminded Brian of Art Deco with its sharp angles and diamond-like patterns adorned the edges of the armor in gold trim while contrasting silver patterns gilded the front. Small sapphires studded the helmet along the forehead, and the scimitar hanging from her side appeared to be made of the same black metal. Brian hadn’t seen anything like it in the entire game, but he knew at once what it was. Telarian steel. It was the rarest of metal on Terramyr, said to be able to withstand a dragon’s flame.
“There is a lot of talk in town about you,” Freya said as Brian closed the door. She eyed the companions and gave a slight nod of approval. “I am glad you have protection, but I fear this is not enough.”
Brian turned to the companions and gestured for them to relax. Little Man poked his head up from Rhonda’s satchel and made a soft whining noise.
Freya turned and smiled at the pup. “I too am a follower of Kyra,” she said. “I follow both Kyra and Nagé,” she added. “With their blessings, perhaps we can protect you all.”
Brian frowned. “Are you seeking to join us?” he asked.
Freya turned back to him and stepped close. “Normally I wouldn’t. I am supposed to run my shop. My life now is about helping adventurers, not being one. Ever since...” her voice trailed off. She glanced to the floor and sighed. “You once asked about my family. The truth is, my mother is very ill, so I work any way I can to send her money and support. In my homeland, I was the captain of the town guard of a large city. It was a prestigious position with ample pay to care for her condition. My brother unfortunately was a thief. He took advantage of me and my position. When he was caught, I arranged for him to escape. I lost my position and was sent to exile. That is the real reason I came here. Prirodha is the only place that I knew of where I could work and make the same kind of money where others did not know my past.”
She looked to the others and then smiled back at Brian. “Normally I would not join a guild, or any house, and your house is far too small for anyone like me to really consider joining. However, I have watched you since you arrived in Fezhik. You are honorable. You bought my luck blossoms, you trained with me, and when a manticore attacked the city, you didn’t run away. You ran toward the monster and helped slay it.”
She turned and pointed at the rest of them. “Your reputation among the Greencaps has grown considerably as well. I know you have all cleared the road to Bohotes, slaying gray gnomes and gargoyles. I know as a group you have worked together to reestablish connections with Ceta, Azumoth, and several other cities.” She turned back to Brian, reached out, and took his hand. “And you... you were willing to spend all day on the beach looking for my ring.”
She shook her head. “Some people say that because you are outlanders you are not to be trusted, but we are all outlanders here. None of us was born on Prirodha. What I see is a group of people trying to help. And I have seen others cause death.” Her face lost its warmth and her eyes flicked toward the door.
“Last night, a Vishi’Tai man in clothes similar to yours,” she gestured to Brian, “was with a tall woman also wearing similar attire. They crossed in front of my shop’s window, so I left the counter to investigate. There was something about him that... made my blood run cold. I stepped out of my shop as they crossed the street maybe fifty yards away. That’s when I saw your friend, the other Konnon warrior from your group, walking down the street toward them. They had a short conversation, and then your friend turned to leave. The male elf pointed at your friend, and a moment later the tall woman stabbed him in the back, right there in the street! The man just stood there as calm as could be and dropped a note onto his back.” Freya hung her head. “I rushed back inside for my sword, but by the time I reached the alleyway, the two assassins were gone and your friend was dead.”
“That’s the one the other Morr’Tai call The Master,” Brian said. “That’s the...” he let his words die off. He didn’t want to call him an oracle and give the NPCs the wrong impression.
“He’s an outlander as much, if not more, than any of us,” Freya said. “There are whisperings in the streets. The elf has been making inquiries, making demands. I fear he is preparing for the hunt. I am here to fight by your side.”
“Looks like the whole girlfriend thing paid off,” Mike commented just loud enough for Brian to hear.
Brian ignored the comment and gave Freya a welcoming smile and nod. “We’d be very grateful to have you with us. We are headed to the Scholar of Anorit—we think he might be able to help us.”
“Wait, we are?” Augustin asked.
“Check your quest logs!” Brian urged them.
Each of his friends went still for a few moments before blurting out a number of confused and excited sounding questions. None of them were completely sure of what they would find, but they were excited to get moving.
Freya put her helmet on and rested her hand upon her sword. “We have no time to lose, but we should stop at my shop first. I have some better weapons I can offer the group.”
“That would be wise. Some of us don’t even own anything sharp and pointy,” Rhonda agreed.
Brian and his friends followed Freya out from the Drunk Imp with the four hired companions in tow, ignoring the whispered conversations still taking place at the tables as they threaded their way through the dining room. They must have made an impressive sight as they made their way through the streets of Fezhik, for even the town guards gave them a wide berth along the way and spoke only in hushed tones as they passed.
Freya led them through a couple of back alleys to cut down on the travel time and then unlocked The Finer Points and beckoned for all of them to come inside. To Augustin and Chris she gave dwarven steel greatswords. To Rhonda she gave a heavy crossbow with dwarven steel bolts, and to Mike she gave a dwarven steel dagger just in case he exhausted his mana and needed to fight in close quarters.
“I have magical weapons,” Brian said. He showed her Flaming Death and Whispering Ice.
“Those are nice, but I know that you also need a dagger,” Freya commented as she slipped behind the counter. She bent low to retrieve a wooden box painted red and gold. A single onyx stone sat in the center of the lid. “This is something special. I think you will find it suits you well.” She slid the box along the counter. Loosing the clasp, he gently lifted the lid. A wisp of smoke snaked upward, and it sounded almost as if there was a deathly, gasping scream emanating from the inside as he did so.
Inside, resting in a bed of black velvet, sat a dagger the likes of which he’d never seen before. The pommel was made of Telarian steel and formed into the shape of a panther. The cross guard, also made of Telarian steel, was in the shape of a dragon’s wings. The blade, measuring roughly fourteen inches, was wickedly curved with serrations along the back that resembled fangs. The idea of being stabbed by something so sinister was unimaginable. The blade was not made of Telarian steel, however. It was a silvery metal, but one he couldn’t recognize.
“The blade is made of a special alloy,” Freya said. “It was forged in Volganor by Tangui, the god who watches over and protects the bridge that leads from the world of mortals to the Heaven City. His wife, Nagé, blessed it during its creation, and the two control the weapon’s destiny. It is said that Tangui used Telarian steel infused with the talon of an Ancient, the greatest and oldest of the dragon folk to live upon Terramyr, to make the blade.”
“The talon of an ancient?” Brian whispered.
Freya nodded. “It is said that it was willingly given by Hiasyntar’Kulai, the patriarch of all dragons.”
Brian’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe such a weapon existed.
“The weapon has no equal like it and used to belong to a god.”
Brian looked up from the blade at Freya. “Who?”
She smiled and gently nudged the open box a little closer. “T
his blade was given to Icadion as a sign of the alliance between the Ancient dragons and the Old Gods. Then, after the Great War of Rebellion, Icadion gifted the dagger to Khefir, as a sign of his appreciation for Khefir’s loyalty to him in the war.”
“Holy smokes!” Mike gasped. “That is one of the lost weapons of the gods!”
“Nagé entrusted the dagger to my family long ago,” Freya said. “She is Tangui’s wife. After Khefir had the blade taken from him, she entrusted it to us for safe keeping with the charge that when the time was right, we would again open the box and use the blade to vanquish evil.”
Brian smiled. “The assassin master,” he said with a nod.
Freya nodded. “I have heard rumors about him, that he is impossible to kill. This dagger will put an end to him.”
“Boom!” Chris shouted as he clapped his hands. “Let’s do it now! I’ll take it and have a go.” He stepped forward and reached in to take the knife.
“NO!” Freya shouted, reaching out to slap his hand, but not quickly enough to prevent Chris from reaching the handle first. His fingers had barely brushed the Telarian steel when a singing sound could be heard and he was repulsed away several feet. Chris cried out in pain, holding his hand and staring in dismay at the charred ends of his fingers. Mike was quick to respond with a healing spell, but the fear in Chris’s eyes did not die away with the pain.
“Thoughtless fool! The blade cannot be taken. It must be given from one owner to the next. It cannot be bought, traded for, stolen, or found. It must be given.”
Chris backed up even farther, his hands in the air. “You just said Khefir had it taken away.”
“Only Tangui or Nagé can take the dagger back. As I said, the two who forged and blessed it are charged with control of the weapon’s destiny.”
“He didn’t mean any harm,” Brian said.
“Luckily for him,” Freya’s slight shake of the head communicated her disapproval. “If his intent had been more resolved, he would probably have lost the hand.” Brian’s eyes grew wide. Chris looked green around the gills. “I give the weapon to you,” Freya spoke in a formal tone, turning to face Brian fully, “knowing that now is the time this blessed weapon is needed on Terramyr once again.”
Brian reached down and took the dagger. A cold energy ran through his hand and tingled along his upper arm and down his spine.
[Acquired Khefir’s Malice]
Brian opened his user interface and couldn’t believe what he saw there.
Khefir’s Malice: A weapon created and blessed by the gods Nagé and Tangui, originally gifted to Icadion and then presented to Khefir after the Great War. Made
of an alloy of Telarian steel and the talon gifted by Hiasyntar’Kulai, the greatest among all Ancients, the dagger is unrivaled. When Khefir fell from grace, Nagé repossessed the magical blade and put it into safe keeping. It has been highly sought
after by rogues, assassins, and even demigods, but the blade has been lost to Terramyr since Nagé put it into protection.
+30 piercing damage; +50% sneak; 1,000% damage while sneaking; +10% chance for critical strike
With Brian’s blade mastery bonuses, the dagger was even deadlier. “Guys, this thing is epic!”
[Khefir’s Malice equipped; +40 piercing; +50% sneak; 1000 damage while sneaking; +10% critical chance when not sneaking]
“All right, so we’re ready to go, right?” Chris said.
Brian held out the blade for all to see. His friends and their companions came close to look at it.
“It’s magnificent,” Shuggra said.
“I have never seen its equal,” Luthor Goldhammer commented.
“With a blade like this, nothing can stand in our way!” Atheron Holdirk declared.
“Let’s go to the scholar,” Rhonda said. “Let’s get our back-up plan set in place, and then we can go and try to use this blade.”
14
Quest Giver
Freya took the lead again as they made their way along the silent, night-shrouded streets of Fezhik toward the library. When they arrived at the building, all five companions agreed to remain outside on the marble steps and keep watch while Brian and the others went inside.
The interior was less cheery and welcoming than the last time Brian had been in the library. The darkness coming in through the glass domed ceiling made the circular patterns in the stone floor feel like gaping mouths more than delightful embellishment. The library itself was only lit at the back by a single lantern sitting on the scholar’s desk. It cast long shadows down the center aisle that stretched from every piece of furniture that lay between them and the desk. The glass plate doors that locked the collection of books away from thieving fingers reflected the light in irregular patterns.
He could see the scholar hunched over some reading material, looking somewhat disheveled and holding a lock of his white hair as he read. Piles of books stood on the floor and on smaller tables which had been pulled up around the desk. It wasn’t entirely disorderly, but it was obvious that he had been doing a lot of research.
The scholar looked up when they were nearly to his desk and jumped up to greet them.
“You’re here! You’re here! Oh, this is fortuitous indeed.”
He rushed up and grabbed Mike by the hand. “Listen, I need to speak with all of you, it’s urgent.”
“Actually, we need to ask you a few questions first,” Brian said, trying to cut the man off.
The scholar shook his head and wagged a finger at him. “NO! YOU need to listen to ME!” He tugged on Mike’s arm and brought him up to the desk where he removed a strange-looking object from inside of a steel box sitting on the desk. The item looked like a three-sided glass pyramid with tightly rounded edges about nine inches tall. A smooth metallic finish wrapped around the circular base and extended along each rounded edge to the top point with three smooth fingers of shining Telarian steel, no thicker than gold leaf. The crystalline face that shone between each finger was clear as water, allowing Brian to see through to what looked like a frozen tear drop deep in the center of the glass—a twisted tendril melting away into a rich blue orb.
“Come with me!” the scholar bellowed. He turned around to the bookshelf behind the desk and unlocked the glass door that protected the scholar’s private collection. He reached inside to pull on a large book. The bookshelf slid aside, revealing a smaller room filled floor to ceiling with books. He ushered them in and then closed the secret door behind them. He used his keys to lock the hidden door, then moved to pull a lever nearby that worked a set of gears and chains, sealing the door shut from the inside. The scholar then snapped his fingers and summoned a ball of mage light that hovered above the group so they wouldn’t be left entirely in the dark.
Brian gawked at the number of books around him. They lined every inch of every wall, and there were rows upon rows of bookshelves stretching from floor to ceiling some twenty feet above them.
“This is the real library,” the scholar said. “This is where we keep all of the important books.”
“I thought you said all books were important?” Mike asked. “I mean... you sent us after a cookbook even.”
The scholar waived him off and shushed him. “Of course all books are important, don’t be daft. The Order of Anorit collects all knowledge. We record, we learn, we advise, BUT all of the most critical books, the kind that have dark secrets or great cosmos-bending knowledge between their covers are in here. We record and collect everything, but we don’t share everything. No, no. This is a special room.” He turned and pointed to Rhonda. “But you are special people, yes? Outlanders from another plane, another dimension!”
“How do you...” Brian started to ask.
“Shush!” the scholar hissed. “Shush, shush, shush!” He ambled across the plush red carpet that covered the floor, beckoning them toward a large pedestal in the middle of the room. It looked similar to a save point—a dragon sitting upon a column, except the wings were outstretched and each foreleg grasp
ed a crystal. Between the two crystals held by the stone dragon was a depression just in front of the dragon’s chest. The scholar set his object into the depression and the entire column began to glow.
“Watch!” the scholar commanded. “Watch, and you will see your friend!”
The crystal object glowed brighter and brighter, filling the room with silvery blue light, and then a strange blue dot emerged from the object. The dot grew into the form of a woman, approximately twelve inches tall and standing on a plane that began about waist height from the ground. The image stepped toward them.
“Meredith!” Brian gasped.
The woman shifted her weight to one side with an irritated expression on her face. “Well, it took you long enough.”
“Yep, it’s her,” Chris confirmed, casting a sideways glance to Brian.
“You’re alive!” Mike declared, undeterred by her less-than-enthusiastic greeting.
“What have you yahoos been up to?” Meredith snapped. “Yes, I am alive, despite Brian’s best efforts here to royally eff up my work.” She turned to look at him. “Marvelous job by the way.”
“Hey, I didn’t mess the game up. In case it didn’t occur to you, interfacing your computer systems with alien tech comes with a set of serious risks. What were you thinking?”
“Are you off site? No wonder it took you so long to get here! You morons, trekking through volcanic rainforests to come for a visit when all you had to do was follow a very clear quest prompt so that I could walk you through a protocol reset,” Meredith’s voice was becoming shrill. “Let me guess, your DM functions went down when I died at the Brightblade camp, and everyone panicked and decide to come running to mom and pop for help. Where is the professor anyway?”
“Meredith, you and the professor are both tied into the game. He hasn’t respawned since dying in-game a night ago,” Rhonda said, shocked by Meredith’s tone, but the only who seemed able to keep a civil tone of voice. “Both of your bodies begin to erratically spasm whenever we try to remove the headsets. I’m afraid you could stroke out if we try to force you off.”