by Phil Tucker
“We no squeeze handies. We exchange blood.” She drew a small dagger from her side and slit her palm open. “Now you.”
“Right.” I wasn’t thrilled, but what could I do? I cut the meat of my thumb then pressed the wound to her own. A new chime sounded, and when I pulled back the cut had healed. “So. About the Big Burpie tribe. I don’t want them inside the bailey in numbers. Have them camp on the slope below, and then invite their leaders in. How much gold do you think you’ll make from them?”
“Shaman Lickit is very wise, very fat. Drive hard bargain. But we have wyvern meat. Lickit will drool too much to be sharp.” She turned to consider the corpses. “We make much gold. Take all of Big Burpie gold. How we split it?”
What was fair? How greedy should I be? “You guys will be doing all the butchering. Plus you found the customers, and will be negotiating with them. You should get most of the gold. How about I get a quarter of whatever you make?”
Kreekit nodded. “Fair, fair. We hold gold for you till you come for it. Big bags! We getting rich. Lickit will lose many goblins to Green Liver. Soon, we grow.”
“Great. When you do, I was hoping you could do something for me. Let’s clean out the bailey once the corpses are taken care of, yeah? Remove the stakes, throw all the ruined parts of the stable into the ravine, wipe out the rat swarm, those kinds of things. You think you can do that?”
“Yes, Green Liver make bailey pretty again.” She gave me her toothy smile once more. “Maybe we have Big Burpies do the work in exchange for some meat. Kreekit too important now to spend time carrying stones.”
“Sure.” I grinned. “Sounds good to me. Now, we’re going to be having a visitor soon. Her name’s Michaela, and she’s undead. For the moment we’re working with the Dread Lord from Feldgrau. Just investigating some stuff for him. When she arrives, don’t attack her, all right?”
Kreekit lowered her brow. “You work for Dread Lord? You no tell me you his ally.”
“I’m not. Absolutely not his ally. We didn’t shake or anything. I just agreed to investigate the keep for him. Mostly because he’d have killed us if I didn’t.”
“Ah, Kreekit understand. Kreekit make many, many promises to save neck over time. Very wise of Chris.”
“Yeah, I hope so. Oh – and Lotharia is in the keep. Can you have Dribbler keep an eye on the front door? If anything comes out, tell him to just start screaming. I’ve no idea what she’s doing in there, but it can’t be good.”
“Yes,” said Kreekit. “Dribbler very good at screaming. Much practice. Talented. I set him to watch.”
“Great. Awesome! I’m glad we’re allied, Kreekit.” I reached forward in an excess of good will and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “We’re going to achieve great things, you and I.”
“Already have! Ogre steak wrapped in wyvern steak wrapped in more ogre steak!” She gulped down a mouthful of spit. “Crackling with Barfo’s special seasoning. Bloody and raw in middle, crunchy and black on outside! Kreekit going to get fatter than Lickit. Going to get this fat!” And she extended both arms out wide.
“We all need dreams,” I said, chuckling and rising to my feet. “I’ll do my best to support yours.”
I opened my sheet as I walked away and tapped through to Allies. The Green Liver was now listed as mine. Sure, a tribe comprised of just three exuberant goblins might not be all that impressive in the big scheme of things, but they were mine, and heck, I actually really liked them.
I made my way into the goblin tower, found a straw-stuffed pallet which I decided not to inspect too closely, and lay down to rest. Sure, my legs from the calves down stuck out on the stone floor, but I was tired and wrung out enough that I didn’t care. Slinging an arm over my face, I allowed myself a long, slow exhalation. Progress. That was all that mattered. Slow or fast, incremental or in fell swoops, I was making progress.
Someone kicked my boots, startling me out of a nightmare where a corrupted Lotharia stalked me through endless twisting hallways. I sat up, nearly blowing mana on Adrenaline Surge by reflex, hand groping at my hip for a dagger that wasn’t there. Falkon stood over me in the gloom, and through the great crack in the side of the tower I saw that the sun had nearly set.
“C’mon,” he said. “Michaela’s here. First some questions, then we’re going to get to work.”
“Sure, sure,” I said, rubbing grit from the corners of my eyes. I checked my character sheet as I got up: mana was back to full, including my marble, a delicious ten out of ten. Dusting some errant pieces of straw off my black spider silk shirt, I ran my fingers through my hair, wobbled my jaw from side to side and then followed Falkon out into the bailey.
Barfo had made a shocking amount of progress on the wyvern. He was still busy at work, wielding his cleaver with determination as he hummed loudly from within the corpse. Most of its hide had already been flayed and draped over a matrix of sticks, and the front half of its body had been expertly dressed down to the bone. A huge pile of liver-colored flesh, marbled with seams of fat and shot through with sinews, was laid out on a bed of what might have once been clean straw.
Dribbler was busy scraping fat or whatever from the inside of the scaled hide with a rock chisel, while Kreekit was stretching an expanse of hide tightly over a frame.
“Damn,” said Michaela, standing to one side, arms crossed, bone mask pushed up over her hair. “Your goblins are ridiculously efficient.”
“We’ve got another tribe incoming,” I said, moving up to join her. “The Big Burpies. Kreekit plans to offload most of this meat onto them in exchange for a substantial amount of gold.”
“And what do goblins need gold for?” asked Michaela. “I thought they worked along some primitive barter system.”
“I don’t actually know.” It was a good question. “But since I’m getting a twenty-five percent cut, I don’t mind too much. Plus, as they explained, we need to shift these corpses before they start to rot and make the castle uninhabitable. So. Everybody wins.”
We stood in silence, watching as Barfo got to work on prizing the wyvern’s left wing free of its joint, working the tip of his cleaver deeper into the socket and then hauling back on it. After a moment of strenuous effort, he was rewarded with a cracking, tearing sound, and the whole wing popped free, held in place now only by a few skeins of hide.
“Wyvern wing!” he called over to the other two. “I got good sauce for it! Spicy hot like succubus booty!”
Dribbler cheered while Kreekit only gave a pleased nod.
“I can honestly say that I never imagined I’d witness anything like this when I entered Euphoria,” I said. “Amazing.”
“Barfo’s Spicy-Hot Succubus Booty Sauce,” said Falkon, shaking his head slowly. “Genius. I’m going to market that in the real world when I get out.”
“As impressed as I am,” said Michaela, “and I am impressed, I’m not sure Guthorios wanted me to come up here to witness acts of culinary genius.”
“I don’t know,” said Falkon. “Maybe we should send him some Succubus Booty Sauce. He might decide that’s all the treasure he needs to please his god.”
Michaela smirked. “Unlikely, but feel free to bring some the next time you’re summoned.”
“So, Michaela.” I turned my back to the butchering so I could focus. “Falkon and I have some questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said. “This whole situation is weird as hell. But I can’t promise I’ll have the answers. I’ve only been in Guthorios’ employ for about three weeks now. I’m more of a useful tool than a trusted confidant.”
“Sure.” I considered her. “Are there other players in his employ down below? And if not, why’d he recruit you?”
She sighed. “You want to hear about my ‘recruitment’.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Amongst other things. I’ll tell you this much, however: I want to trust you and work with you
like a real team. But I can’t do that unless I know more. And given that I’m in Death March mode here? I don’t have much leeway for messing up.”
“Fine. It’s not like my past contains any huge secrets, after all.” She hugged herself and watched something over my shoulder in a distracted manner. “Not too long ago I was Michaela Firion, an Emerald-level wizard in the town of Kravasse, perhaps a day’s journey up the coast from Goldfall.”
Falkon nodded as if that meant something.
“Word had been spreading of undead raids on the local villages. Weird raids. People couldn’t figure out what was up. The undead were trying to capture folks, carry them away, but their numbers were too few and inevitably they’d either be destroyed mid-raid or chased down and eradicated. Anyways, about a month ago in-game a large force attacked Kravasse. As one of the town’s main defenders I was ready, even excited for the fight. We repelled the first two waves pretty easily, but then wraiths descended upon me from the sky. I was alone atop one of the guard towers – nothing fancy like this castle, just platforms raised above our wooden palisade – and was paralyzed by their enervation attack.”
Her expression curdled in distaste. “It was stupid of me, thinking the attacks would only come from the far side of the wall. They carried me up into the sky, and I saw the attack being called off. They kept me paralyzed and flew me through a portal. We emerged in Feldgrau, and I was taken into the Broken Tower.”
Michaela’s lips thinned. “I’ll skip what happened inside, but Guthorios raised me as a necromancer, converting my essence and spells. Given that I’m in Death March mode, that was it for me. I’ve got a couple of months left before my six in-game months are up, then I’m going to flatline.”
She was trembling as she said this, hugging herself extra tight. I didn’t know what to say. She was a dark mirror to my own situation. The fate that awaited me if I messed up even just a little.
“I’m… I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Skip it.” Her tone became harsh. “I’ve no desire for pity. I—I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. I tried, and I lost. That’s all there is to it.” She blinked a few times, as if pulling herself away from a memory or emotion, then focused on the pair of us. “So that’s my happy tale. Satisfied?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, your situation doesn’t make us feel ‘satisfied’.”
Falkon’s tone was grim. “Do you think Guthorios was sending out his undead raids to catch Death Marchers specifically?”
Michaela hesitated. “Maybe? He grabbed me.” She looked distinctly uncomfortable for some reason. “I can’t claim to know why he’s doing what he’s doing.”
“It guarantees him you won’t log out,” I said. “Makes you his slave. Which, given how he needs pawns with the ‘divine spark’ he talked about, means perhaps he was hoping to send you down below into Jeramy’s dungeon?”
“Maybe,” said Michaela again.
Falkon tapped his chin. “And that would also explain why he’s not had much luck recruiting other players. There aren’t that many Death Marchers around, and they’re all universally paranoid and good at playing it safe. He’d be hard-pressed to snatch them up easily.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “What about this ‘treasure’? Any clue as to what it is?”
“None,” she said firmly. “Guthorios has no idea either. He’s just after it because Uxureus demands it.”
Falkon raised an eyebrow. “Uxureus. You mean Albertus Magnus.”
“Not quite. Uxureus is slightly more limited than Albertus,” she said. “But… yeah.”
“And how do you explain Uxureus killing Jeramy? Since when do the gods of Euphoria take out players? And how did a player, even an archmagus, create a ward so powerful it could keep Uxureus out?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I wish I did. It’s been an infuriating few weeks. It feels like I’ve fallen into a coding glitch in Euphoria, where the normal rules have all been broken. Trust me. Nothing about this is normal.”
We stood in silence, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. Finally, I gave myself a shake. “Well. You guys up for exploring the keep?”
“That’s why I’m here,” said Michaela, forcing a smile.
“Cool.” I hesitated. There was no smooth way to ask. “Listen. We’ve no idea what we’re in for in there. Might help if we all had a sense of each other’s abilities.”
She gave me a sly smile. “You mean you want to check out my sheet?”
Damn. Was the undead chick trying to get a rise out of me? “Sure,” I said. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” I could give as good as I got.
She laughed, genuinely amused, and punched up her sheet. “All right. Look all you want.”
I opened mine in turn, shared it with her, and then pulled up her sheet.
Michaela Firion
Species: Undead Human
Class: Wizard
Level: 15
Total XP: 1434
Unused XP: 59
Guild: None
Title(s): Dark Exarch
Domain(s): None
Allies: Dread Lord Guthorios
Cumulative Wealth: 3122gp
Attributes
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 13
*Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 17
*Charisma: 16
Mana: 21/21
Skills
Survival: Basic (III)
Knowledge (Undead): Intermediate (II)
Diplomacy: Intermediate (I)
Stealth: Basic (III)
Melee: Basic (III)
Athletics: Basic (III)
Spellcraft: Basic (IV)
Intimidate (III)
Talents
Spellcasting: Basic
Meditation: Intermediate (III)
Quick Reflexes: Basic
Astute Observer (II)
Minor Magic
Spell List
Life Sight
Necrotic Bolt
Cause Fear
Bone Puppet
Command Undead
Sentry Skull
Osseous Fists
Animate Dead: Basic (II)
Wither: Intermediate (I)
Unholy Ward
Cantrips: Basic
“Dang,” I said. “That’s quite the spell collection.”
“No kidding,” said Falkon, scrolling through her list. “And they sound nasty, too.”
“Yeah.” Michaela sounded ambivalent about the praise. “Guthorios was… generous with his gifts. What do you wish to know?”
“How about a quick rundown of your main spells?” I closed her sheet so I could observe her directly. “Just to give us a sense of what to expect.”
“Sure. I’ll take it from the top.” She then proceeded to name each spell and give us a quick summary of what it did. I glanced over at Falkon when she was done. He was struggling to not look overly impressed.
“Well, I’m glad you’re on our team,” I said. “And extra glad I didn’t try to fight you off when we first met.”
Michaela’s full lips curled into a derisive smile. “I wouldn’t have killed you. Just hurt you until you submitted.”
“I’m sure. Bone Puppet was bad enough.” I shuddered. That said, I turned to stare at the gaping entrance through which Lotharia had entered the keep that morning. “Looks like it’s time to get some answers. Come on.”
4
I led the way up to the keep’s entrance, and there paused to study the darkness that filled the great doorway. I switched on Darkvision, but that made little difference; the darkness beyond was impenetrable. Thinking of Lotharia, I activated Detect Magic. The darkness was a cloud of necrotically-aligned mist. On the off chance that it might work, I created a ball of Light and sent it darting forward into the darkness, where it was de
voured.
“Well, that’s not reassuring,” said Falkon.
“It’s a moderately powerful obfuscation spell,” said Michaela. “Impressive in that it seems to be permanent. It shouldn’t affect us other than feeling unpleasant as we pass through it.”
“Why place it there?” I stepped a little closer and extended my hand toward the shifting darkness. It was cool, like the air next to a waterfall.
“Hard to say.” Michaela stepped up alongside me, searching the tapestry of necrotic magic as if for clues. “It serves various functions, not least being a psychological one. But I believe we can condense all the possibilities into a simple generalization: it’s a warning. Stay away.”
“Not much luck for that,” said Falkon. He’d donned his plate armor, and gently pushed his way past us both. “I’ll take point. Don’t wait too long to follow, all right?”
“Such a gentleman,” said Michaela.
Falkon snorted. “Right. Now, the ground floor of the keep used to be the servant quarters, kitchen, storerooms, guardroom and the like. Right through this door was a small hall with a stairwell to the hard left that led up to the second floor where the grand hall was, along with a few side rooms. Third floor was where the important bedrooms were located, along with a library and private meeting chamber. There was access to the keep roof, where four large catapults were kept along with other defensive gear.”
“Any subterranean rooms?”
“Sure,” said Falkon with a grim smile. “What castle is without its dungeons?”
“Lovely,” said Michaela. “I can only imagine what the new residents have done with that decor.”
“All right,” I said. “Here’s the game plan. I’m guessing Jeramy’s ward is going to make the dungeons a separate realm for now. Let’s just focus on what’s above ground. Lotharia ran in there in a state of panic. It’s likely she ran right past the stairwell. We’ll clear the ground floor first, then work our way up.”
“Ambitious,” said Michaela. “And delightfully confident. What could go wrong?”
I ignored her. “Now, just a reminder: this is only a scouting trip. If things get hairy in there, we get out, fast. No heroics. Understood?”