by Phil Tucker
There are five talent advancements available to you:
Wall Climber (I), Cat’s Fall, Mute Presence, Heads-Up, and Adrenaline Surge (II). All of them cost seventy-five XP except for Cat’s Fall, which clocked in at fifty-five.
There are three spells available to you:
Evenfall, Ebon Tendrils (II), and Grasping Shadows.
I sat back and thought. I had two hundred and seventeen XP to spend, and I had to make them count. Mute Presence was clearly a must. Anything I tried to enact from here on out would have to be exceptionally stealthy, as engaging with more than one Beggar at a time would prove lethal. That would leave me with one hundred and forty-two XP to spend. Grasping Shadows would allow me to constrain more than one opponent at a time, but I doubted it was a sufficiently powerful spell that I’d be able to use it to slow down the Beggars. Ebon Tendrils (II), however, might allow me to tangle up one of them for just long enough that I could get the drop on them.
On the other hand, Wall Climber could prove key to getting in and out of the castle without burning mana on Shadow Step. That would leave me enough to buy Cat’s Fall while I was at it, ensuring that my acrobatics high above the bailey wouldn’t prove lethal if I ran out of mana.
I tapped my lips. Ebon Tendrils (II) or Wall Climber? Or just buy one and kill something real quick for the missing eight XP? That sounded like the right move. Cat’s Fall would have to wait. I tapped Mute Presence and Ebon Tendrils (II), then closed and re-opened my sheet to see what had replaced them.
My new talent was:
Stunning Backstab
XP Cost: 75
- Allows you to stun an opponent who is successfully struck by Backstab.
And my new spell was:
Shadow Clone
XP Cost: 75
- Your affinity with the darkness allows you to clone your own shadow and send it forth, directing its movements within a hundred feet for as long as you concentrate.
- Mana Drain: 2
Excellent. Both were contenders for my next XP expenditure. Perhaps Stunning Backstab over Wall Climber? I’d mull it over while I headed toward the highland meadow.
Rising to my feet, I dusted myself off and jogged around the perimeter of Feldgrau. There was a good chance the orc warrior had killed Falkon in that encounter. If so, I wanted to meet up with him before he wandered off to investigate on his own. I ran past a score of the undead, but despite my misgivings they ignored me completely. I also kept a wary eye on the path leading up to the castle, but none of the Beggars made any attempt to descend toward Feldgrau.
All too soon, I reached the highland meadow’s road. It seemed like just hours ago when Lotharia, Falkon and I had snuck down through here to capture a plague corpse. I stared morosely at the building behind which she and I had hidden. The wind blew around me, whispering mockingly as if it enjoyed my pain. What I wouldn’t do to have her calm, analytical presence with me now, her subtle wit and support. She’d been inside the keep now for almost two days. I didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about what might be happening to her in there, where creatures like the xythagas dwelled.
I was panting by the time I reached the meadow, my leg on fire, and as I came to a stop, hands on my knees, it was immediately apparent that there was nobody there. The wind blew down from the cold peaks and set the meadow grasses and flowers to rustling, but nobody stood before the ruined welcome longhouse. Nobody was making their way up along the far path that followed the bluffs toward the high castle gate.
They hadn’t killed Falkon.
Disappointment welled up within me, and I sank into a crouch. Only then did it hit me how much I’d been hoping for my friend’s presence. Someone with whom to plan, to flesh out a strategy. Instead, I was going to have to go it alone. Just me against the Beggars.
I stayed crouched for a good while. It wasn’t that I was frozen, exactly, just that the intensity of my emotions made me stay still, like a small animal huddling while a storm blew overhead. If this had been any normal game I’d have powered on without a thought, but Death March mode changed all that.
Of course, I could simply turn and head out into the wilderness. I wasn’t helpless any longer. A month of determined hiking should get me to some sort of civilized land, and then I’d be able to start over. New friends, new opportunities.
Hell, no.
I wanted to save my friends. I wanted to take back Castle Winter. I wanted to bring a little justice to the Beggars who’d waltzed into our domain without so much as a by your leave. But most importantly? I wanted to rescue Lotharia. But how? How could I get revenge without being killed out of hand?
With a wince, I rose to my feet. My only remaining resource was Guthorios. Much as I hated the idea of turning to him for help, I had no choice. Who knew what he’d demand in return? With a heavy heart, I retraced my steps back down to Feldgrau. The sun was dipping toward the horizon by the time I entered the village, and this time I felt nothing but stony determination as I made my way along the Moon’s Way toward the far tower.
The dead stilled and watched me as I passed them. Skeletal champions and plague corpses, floating wraiths and cowled figures with burning eyes. If anything, the sheer number of them gave me hope; all I had to do was convince Guthorios to flush out Castle Winter with this horde of undead. As powerful as the Beggars were, they couldn’t stand up to literally hundreds upon hundreds of foes. Could they?
I reached the old town square and skirted the charnel pit. Even as I hurried along its edge, a fresh zombie tore itself free of the mud and earth that composed its side and climbed toward me. I shuddered and locked my eyes on the tower doors. They stood closed this time, and I limped up the broad steps to shove them open.
I stepped into the darkness, averting my eyes from the first-floor chamber as I turned to hurry up the steps. Nothing barred my way. No servants, no seneschals. The tower might have been deserted for all I knew. I rounded the final turn and stepped out into the throne room.
Guthorios sat as before. I half expected to interrupt him in the midst of some magical rite or conference with advisors, but instead he seemed to be waiting for me, hands on his knees, eyes burning as he stared through the chill air. I was hit by his terrible presence, the weight of his regard, a sense of power that like a massive hand pressing down on my shoulder. I was desperate, however, and willing to risk his displeasure.
“Dread Lord, excuse my interruption.”
He did not respond.
“A group calling themselves the Beggars of Solomon have entered Castle Winter. They’ve captured Falkon and Michaela and stolen the domain from me. I barely escaped. They spoke of being hired to do a job there.”
Still nothing.
Was he asleep? Farseeing? I hesitated, then pressed on. “I’ve come to ask for your help in rescuing Michaela and Castle Winter. We’d already begun making progress into the keep when they arrived…”
Silence. I took a deep breath and stepped closer. Even with Astute Observer I couldn’t tell if he was present in his body. No signs of life, obviously. His eyes were open, however, but unfocused. Perhaps—
“You are skilled at losing your allies.” Guthorios’ words caused me to startle and step back. “Not an admirable trait.”
“Yeah, I’m not fond of it either.” It was hard to bite down on what I really wanted to say. “But I’m only level eleven. I don’t have a lot of weight to throw around just yet.”
“I observed the approach of the Beggars of Solomon. They display greater potential at divining the archmagus’ secrets. I am pleased at their arrival.”
“Pleased? But they’re not working for you. How do you know they won’t steal away your treasure?”
Guthorios moved at last, lifting one bony shoulder. “They do work for me.”
“They what? Why didn’t you tell us they were coming?” My outrage caused me to sp
utter. “We almost died up there!”
“I am under no obligation to reveal the full extent of my plans to you. Their unexpected arrival is a welcome boon. I had not anticipated their arrival for at least another month. For I will employ any and all tools to accomplish my goals. If you cannot defeat them, then it is clear they are the better tool. I am certain the Beggars shall serve me well.”
I ground my teeth as I stared at the floor. My knuckles ached from how tightly I was clenching my fists. How could I convince him to help me? This was it. My last chance. But there was no sane argument I could make in favor of removing the Beggars so that I could resume my work. Their team had over one hundred and thirty levels between them. Mine had barely fifty. Loyalty? No. Sacrifice myself for my friends? I didn’t trust Guthorios enough to even examine that option with much seriousness.
“I understand.” I had to work hard to speak with an even tone. “I’d still like to attempt to fulfill our bargain. Would you be willing to lend me aid so that I may do so? Insurance in case the Beggars fail?”
Guthorios actually smiled, the stiff muscles of his face ticking as his lips pulled into something akin to a grimace. “Aid that would make your assistance comparable to the Beggars of Solomon? I am not so generous. Should they fail, I shall expend greater wealth in hiring an even more elite team. So, no, Chris Meadows. I shall conserve my resources for where they are best spent. You may still, however, attempt to fulfill your end of the bargain. My completing my part shall depend on whether you ultimately prove more useful than the Beggars.”
It was hard to breathe. My throat cramped and my stomach twisted. I simply nodded and turned away. I stumbled down the steps and out into the early evening, where I stood, hands on my hips, staring up at the sky. What to do? I didn’t want to stay in Feldgrau, but where could I go? I couldn’t approach the castle till I’d recovered my mana.
The Green Liver goblins. Kreekit, Dribbler, and Barfo. They were all I had left. I opened my character sheet and navigated toward my allies. Yep. They were still listed there. But how to find them? They must have fled along with the Big Burpies at the approach of the Beggars. But to where? Somewhere close to the castle. They’d be loath to give up all that meat. That meant somewhere along the high bluffs and cliffs above the highland meadow, no doubt.
I sighed. They were my freaking allies. How did Euphoria not have some sort of paging or location system? Then again, maybe it did. I’d waived all those benefits away when I’d signed up for Death March.
With nothing else for it, I set out. I limped back along the Moon’s Way, gratefully leaving the charnel pit behind. This was the first time I felt like I’d lost my momentum in Euphoria. Up until this point, each challenge had been followed by a hard-won victory, new allies, greater abilities. Now, I was adrift. Grasping at straws. Ignoring the rational part of my mind that was trying to tell me I didn’t have a chance against a group of high-level PCs.
The path crested and reached the highland meadow once more, and I caught my breath at the sight of a figure standing before the ruined waystation. Falkon? No. A stranger. Another Beggar?
I stood completely still, ready to turn and sprint back down to Feldgrau.
She was standing with her hands on her hips, her bright coppery red hair done up in a high ponytail and blowing in the wind. There was something indescribably young about her despite her voluptuous figure, something fresh, as if she were new to this world, gazing upon it for the very first time. She turned and stared straight at me, and I realized with a start that she was stunningly beautiful.
We studied each other across the grassy meadow, and then she raised one hand, waved, and gave me a bright smile of pure joy.
7
I hesitated, then waved back. Her smile widened, and despite it all, despite my pain and despair and loss, I couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was just that infectious. As I approached I couldn’t help but wonder: just how high is her charisma? She’s winning me over just with a wave.
She waited for me to approach, hands returning to her generous hips over which she wore low-slung and form-fitting leggings. Her knee-high boots had folded tops and redundant buckled straps down their length, while a leaf-shaped dagger was shoved in her broad and double-tongued belt with a large, ornate iron buckle.
Everything about her was carefully put together. Her midriff was bare, revealing her athletic figure, and her full breasts were cupped by a black half-corset strapped to a broad leather collar about her slender neck. Bare shoulders, bare upper arms, and then full ivory sleeves from the elbows down to her brown leather gloves.
But it was her face that caught my attention and held it. She had the kind of beauty you only see on glossy magazine covers. The kind even the real models themselves don’t display in person. I’d describe her as elfin if I hadn’t just run into Delphina, but she had something of the fey about her, something elusive and ethereal that was undercut by her confident smile and forthright gaze. It was just as easy to picture her meditating in a glade, cherry blossoms falling about her, as it was to imagine her knocking back shots at a bar.
“Hi,” she said, and flashed me a slightly more nervous version of her smile. “This isn’t quite the reception I was expecting. Are you with Cruel Winter?”
“I am.” I was normally pretty comfortable around attractive women, but all that bare skin and cleavage was making it hard to act casual. Charisma seventeen? Eighteen? “I’m afraid you’re a little late to the party, though. Cruel Winter’s about done and gone.”
“Done and gone?”
“Yeah. Destroyed. You’ve walked into quite a situation here.” Despite her arresting looks, I felt nothing more than weariness at the prospect of crushing her hopes. “A large undead force killed everyone a long time ago. There’s pretty much nothing left.”
“That’s not true,” she said, and with a shy smile she stepped forward and took my hand. “You’re still here.”
I pulled my hand free and stepped away, heart suddenly pounding. “Yeah, true, but I’m no great shakes.” She wasn’t fazed by my news. “Who are you? Why’d you choose Cruel Winter of all guilds?”
She linked her hands behind her back. “I’m Sylvana Embers. This is my first time playing Euphoria, but my big brother told me Cruel Winter was the place to be.” She paused, as if reflecting. “Of course, that was some time ago. Did I make a mistake?”
“I’m afraid you did.” A cold wind rushed down the mountain slopes, driving waves across the high grass and causing me to shiver. Sylvana seemed unaffected. “To be honest, you’d be better off ditching this avatar and starting fresh in a more civilized area.”
She raised a fine eyebrow. “Ditch this avatar? That’s not an option.”
“Course it’s an option,” I said. “I can tell you put a lot of work into it, but I bet you can recreate it in half the time. Seriously. This is a bad scene here. No place for a newbie.”
Her eyes flashed as she raised her chin. “I meant, that’s literally not an option for me. I’m playing in Death March mode. I don’t get to log out until my six months are up.”
I just gaped at her. “You’re what?”
“Death March mode,” she said. “Surely you know of it?”
“I—yes, but—why?”
She hugged herself and looked away, over the cliff to the vast lands beyond. “I have personal reasons for wanting to raise the cash. I need to help somebody. Somebody I love very much. And toward that end I am willing to sacrifice everything. Even my life, if need be.”
I didn’t know what to say. Was that a tear running down her cheek? “I’m sorry to hear that. Oh, man.” I rubbed the back of my head. “Yeah, then you really are stuck here. That sucks.”
“Sucks?” She snapped her head around to stare at me. “Does my presence here inconvenience you?”
“Inconvenience—what? No! Just that this is a really dangerous place. There�
�s a bunch of high-level PCs calling themselves the Beggars of Solomon up in the castle right now, and they’ve captured my allies. Feldgrau – the town below – is full of the undead. This whole area is filled with high-level mobs and monsters. I’ve barely managed to survive this long, and that’s been mostly due to luck and a lot of experience gaming.”
“I’m not a complete fool,” she said. “I didn’t come entirely unprepared. I contacted a friend who arranged to drop off some gear for me. It’s supposed to be waiting in the waystation.” She turned to consider the ruined building. “I was expecting it to be in a locker or some such, but now I’m thinking she probably just hid it under some rocks.”
“Gear? That’ll help. Do you know what she left you?”
“And suddenly you’re thrilled that I’m here.” She shot me an arch glance as she turned to walk into the waystation. “How surprising.”
It was hard not to stare at how closely her leggings gripped her rear, but I did my level best. Was Euphoria turning me into a cad? Or was her charisma simply walloping me over the head? I fixed my gaze between her shoulder blades and followed her into the gloom. She cast around for a moment, then stepped toward a collapsed section of the wall and squatted beside a large rock. “Here. Can you lift this for me, please?”
“Sure,” I said. It was a decently sized rock, and I crouched beside it, found purchase with both hands then strained to tip it over. I could barely lift it, and had to exert myself to the maximum till I was finally able to rock it over to one side, revealing a large hole.
“You’re so strong,” said Sylvana admiringly.
“Uh, not really. I’ve only got strength fourteen.”
She slapped my arm playfully. “You’ve got to get better at taking compliments from a girl.”
Something about that resonated. I frowned as I watched her reach into the hole. Where had I heard that before, that same tone?
“Here we go,” she said, pulling out a black silken bag. It was just large enough to maybe slip a basketball into, and my heart immediately sank. So much for a ton of protective gear to keep her alive.