Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God

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Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God Page 36

by Brian McGoldrick

Roderick's mouth turns into a doleful frown. “No, not really. This is just a stay in your journey, and I cannot foresee the end of that road.”

  “Destruction or eternity.”

  A shiver passes through Roderick, and his voice has a hint of dread. “Godhead.”

  “Gods are myths.”

  “Maybe, other gods see gods as myths, but for us mortals, gods a real. I fear, you will either shake the heavens or be crushed them.”

  “It's time I left.”

  I offer my hand to Roderick, and he clasps my wrist, the shake of one warrior to another.

  Roderick's face becomes a picture of surprise, when Perzey kisses his bearded cheek.

  “Bye-bye.” Perzey waves, as she runs out of the Smithy.

  “Remember to tell people who trained you as a Smith.”

  When I reach the bottom of the tower, the sun is near its zenith. Many streets in Tallifer are only touched by the sun's rays, when it is this high. Staying in the Smithy with me from dawn till sunset, it has been more than a month since Perzey has been out in the sun. She is standing in the street, with her face towards the sun and her arms spread wide. Wearing only a short diaphanous dress, he light bronze toned skin gleams, under the midday light. As with many of the women of Tallifer, her breasts and bikini-like loincloth are clearly visible under the barely concealing fabric.

  Many of the people on the street blatantly stare at Perzey as they pass by, clearly admiring her. A group of five men and two women, all armed and armored, walk up to Perzey. The biggest of the men has a clearly lecherous smile plastered on his face. The rest of the group move to encircle her.

  “Hey, gorgeous, are you by yourself?” The language is the Slave Tongue, but the phrasing makes it sound like they are Possessed.

  Perzey looks at the people surrounding her, with a faint mocking smile on her lips.

  “Weak.” Springing into the air, Perzey glides over the heads of the group surrounding her and touches down next to me. Linking her arm with mine, she smiles up at me.

  “Can Perzey kill them? Pretty please?”

  “No, they aren't worth it.” I turn, following the road to the east.

  “Brand never lets Perzey have fun.”

  “Hey, asshole!” The big one starts to pursue us.

  Another man grabs the big one's arm.

  “Don't! We don't need trouble with the guards. Tallifer hasn't turned hostile toward players yet.”

  So, it has already started. The residents of the Battlefield must have figured out that the Possessed are no longer resurrecting, and some of the polities have started targeting them. In the near future, things will start to get ugly. The question is whether the Possessed will fight back or roll over and take it, like the Earth-born cowards they are.

  Perzey hums softly to herself as we walk through Tallifer, surrounded by a small bubble of clear space. I do not recognize the tune, but it sounds like something from Earth, not from within the Battlefield.

  It takes a bit over half an hour to reach my destination. Standing on a plaza directly behind the harbor warehouses is a small tower, only twenty-three stories tall. The tower is owned by a player guild, who operate their business from the ground floor and the top seven floors. The rest of the tower is rented out to other players or player guilds. When I was Talon, I would use their facilities at times, mostly for information gathering.

  Over the main entry to the tower, there is huge kite shield shaped plaque, embossed with the guilds logo. In the center two pigeons in flight are separated by an upright sword. Over the sword a single word is etched in all Roman capital letters: POSTMEN. On the bottom of the shield, the guild motto is also etched in Roman script: We Always Deliver.

  The Postmen can be considered the single most successful guild in all of Taereun: Battleground of the Damned. They single-handedly changed the face of communications in the Battleground. Their leader goes by the name of Alva, and she is supposed to have been a telecommunications engineer on Earth.

  The Postmen researched and developed magical transmitters and repeaters that can transmit objects up to about three feet square through the teleport gates. Through contracts, treaties, and in some cases brute force invasions, they have extended their network throughout most of the known and populated sections of the Battleground of the Damned. To safeguard their monopoly, they installed self-destruct spell formations into every single piece of their magic technology. At the time of the Great Fuck Over, they had become indispensable to most of the polities in the Battleground, and the ones relying on their services protected them from the polities hostile to them. As for the other players, not even Thug Horde dared to openly antagonize The Postmen.

  In front of the tower, two guards stand on either side of the entry. They are probably local citizens of Tallifer. One of The Postmen's tactics is to hire locals to feed money back into the local economies. That makes them more popular with the commoners and sometimes the rulers.

  The ground floor of the tower is mostly open to the customers, with the back being cordoned off by a long counter. The actual “mail” is kept in the underground levels of the tower and sent up by chutes as needed. The customer area is a meeting place, where people can exchange information and read the posts on the various bulletin boards.

  Near one corner of the room is my goal. A giant holographic display is projected from a complex metal and crystal artifact, showing a map of all the known zones in the Battleground of the Damned. This is maintained in concert with the Explorers Guild.

  The Explorers Guild is actually not a player guild. They are a rather loose organization made up of hundreds of thousands of adventurers, who operate in any arrangement from solo to small armies. Their purpose is to seek out every corner of every zone in the Battleground of the Damned. The leadership is mostly made up of citizens from various polities in the Battleground, but a few of the Possessed have risen to high offices, with one on the Overseers Council.

  My only interest in checking the map is to see if anyone has reported the discovery of the zone that contains the Chamber of Transition. Not wanting to draw attention to the specific zone it is connected to, I peruse the entirety of the northern part of the Western Reaches. There are at least a dozen zones I do not recognize, and three times as many that do not look quite right. The Western Reaches are the least populated by “civilized races” of the Five Reaches, but it seems like someone has been extensively active, since the Great Fuck Over.

  A tall lean man man, with a goatee and a lion's mane of white hair, approaches me. His clothes are all made from extremely high quality silk, with large ventilation slits in the style of upper class Tallifer merchants. His jewelry alone is probably worth enough to buy a small kingdom.

  “Steel is cruelty. Steel is pain.” A thin strand of the mana inside me touches my eyes, twisting my perceptions to show me the world as patterns.

  Like within Perzey, I can see the dissonance of his mind and soul from his body. He is one of the players, that have been trapped in the Battleground.

  “Brand, I presume?” His voice is slightly nasal sounding, and he has an odd pronunciation that sounds like he might have been an Asian native on Earth.

  “Who are you?”

  “Sulius, the Tallifer Region Manager. Could you please remove the mask, so that I might confirm your identity?”

  When I release my helm's mask and push it up, Sulius winces at the sight of my face. He is already annoying me.

  “I have a missive for you from a party, whose name I cannot speak in the open like this. Would you please come upstairs to my office?”

  “Lead the way.”

  Sulius glances at Perzey disdainfully. “This is an extremely sensitive matter. It would be best if your doxy remained here.”

  Perzey looks at me with her usual sweet killing smile, but does not say a word, when I put my armored finger over her lips.

  “Maybe later.”

  Since I have learned my secrets of steel, my ki aura has become distinctly dark
and cruel. As I release it, Sulius shivers, his skin becoming even more pale than it already was.

  “You are beginning to piss me off. If you have something for me, give it to me.”

  “P-please, follow me.”

  Perzey hugs my armor clad arm tightly and grins mockingly at Sulius. Her face is slightly flushed, and her hard nipples are easily seen through the near transparent fabric of her dress.

  “Weak faggot.”

  Sulius is silent as he leads us up the ramp to the second floor and into an elevator. While not common, elevators inside buildings are not unknown in the Battleground of the Damned. Most interior elevators make use of air or gravitational based magic bound in sigils or formations to raise and lower the platform or car. This elevator only reaches the eighteenth floor of the tower.

  From the eighteenth to the twenty-third floor, Sulius leads us past dozens of guards. I get the impression he is trying to make a point regarding his power. While it would impress or cow most people, he clearly does not understand who I am.

  An effeminate looking male secretary is seated behind a rather large desk outside the door to Sulius' office. When he sees Sulius, the secretary stands up revealing that like his shirt his pants are made of the same type of diaphanous material as Perzey's dress.

  “Lord, Sul...” The secretary's voice falters, under Sulius' glare.

  “Bring us a pot of Calistene coffee and knock before entering.”

  Calist Moors is a Core zone know for its mercenaries. I have never heard anything resembling coffee being grown there.

  The secretary's eyes turn toward me, and he cannot keep his obvious disgust hidden. He looks rapidly at Perzey, as though to escape the horror of my ruined face. When his eyes float downward to her big tits, with the still erect nipple, the tent pole in his pants deflates, as his disgust turns into disdain.

  “No.”

  Perzey pouts, when I do not even let her ask her inevitable question.

  The office is trapezoidal. At least a hundred feet deep, its entire outer wall is made crystalline windows, looking out over the harbor. The furniture is all made of thick heavy wood, stained a deep mahogany color, and the desk near the windows is big enough to park a large wagon on. It has been Patterned and is heavily impregnated with Power.

  The secretary closes the office door behind us, and Sulius sits down behind his huge desk. His chair is thickly padded and covered with black suede style leather. I do not bother to look for stains on the seat.

  After using a kind of a Power infused crystal key, Sulius opens a drawer in the desk. Taking a black scroll case out the drawer, he places it on the desk.

  “Please.”

  Picking up the scroll case, I stare at the white eye on the outside.

  “Since when have The Postmen had dealings with DokkAlfar?”

  Sulius sniffs primly. “The Postmen will deal with anyone and everyone who pays the price for our services and does not try to move against us. We do not discriminate in any manner against those seeking our services.”

  I open the tube, and take out the scroll inside.

  My Dearest Brand,

  While we have never met, we have seen each other. I am Kra'cha'len, Priest-Wizard of the Central Fane of Yggr. It is with heartfelt joy that I send this missive to you. The foolish and misdirected actions of the Left Hand Order of Yggr have been curtailed, and the Temple of Yggr is extending a sincere invitation to you to join our ranks.

  As you appear to do, the Temple of Yggr stands in opposition to the vicious manipulations carried out by the renegade that calls itself The Nameless God. We would earnestly welcome your help in dealing with the fools that join in the service of the traitor, and can provide you with support beyond your wildest imagination.

  I look forward to hearing at the very least that you wish to meet face to face to discuss the merits of joining the Temple of Yggr.

  Sincerely yours,

  Kra'cha'len, Priest-Wizard of the Central Fane of Yggr

  “You know what this is about.” I gesture at Sulius with the letter.

  “I have a general idea and have been given instructions for transmitting your reply to the Fane of Yggr.” Sulius has a demeanor of smug pride.

  Sulius gapes, as the paper in my hand burst into flame. Perzey laughs at him, while smiling sweetly.

  “You fool, do you understand how much power the Priests of Yggr have? Were they not offering you a chance to join them?”

  My smile is cold. “Idiots, that want to suck the dick of some asshole that calls himself a god, can all go to hell.”

  I turn around and start walking to the door. Perzey waves over her shoulder at Sulius. Noises from the corridor outside make me stop.

  “Put your armor and weapons on.”

  Perzey smiles and strips naked, before taking her armor and weapons harness out of her bracelet. Draping them over my shoulder, she takes out a different loincloth and boots, while standing in front of me still naked.

  “Wait! What is she doing?”

  I can not even begin to guess how her mind works anymore. She seems to be switching between an innocent killer and a sex starved tease. Why that is making her so much more in touch with the talents and abilities that came with her body, I do not understand.

  “You can't leave yet!”

  If this was not a regional headquarters form The Postmen, I would be slightly worried. They have some very strong adepts who work as mercenaries in the hinterland of the Battleground, but I have never seen any of them in places like Tallifer. Most of The Postmen's influence comes from their ability to transmit and control information, not their ability to project force.

  When Perzey puts on the thin leather shirt she wears under her armor, I turn back to Sulius. His face is oddly pale. There seems to be something else going on here.

  “What do you want?”

  “You seem to have a history with Thug Horde. You also have connections the mercenary leader Jinmu. We are having problems with Thug Horde, fairly close to Tallifer, and would like hire both yourself and Jinmu's band.”

  “Then, why don't you contact Jinmu directly? And for that matter, how do you know about my connections with Jinmu?”

  Sulius pales a little more. “Do not underestimate The Postmen's intelligence network.”

  “The DokkAlfar told you.”

  Sulius' expression stiffens, and his eyes start darting from side to side.

  “What did Kra'cha'len tell you?”

  Sulius fidgets, not looking me straight in the eye. “Ah . . . he said that you would probably turn down his offer, and we should use you to deal with Thug Horde. Thug Horde is apparently working for that Nameless God, who trapped us all here.”

  I already suspected that Thug Horde was working for The Nameless. The DokkAlfar with the band wiped out by the Dvergar and the Priest-Captain's comments pretty much confirmed it. What are the objectives of The Nameless and Yggr? There are too many things I do not know.

  “What are you offering?”

  Sulius smiles, his eyes lighting up. “One thousand Tallifer golden boats to take part in an assault on a single Thug Horde base.”

  For one assault on one base, he is offering a lot of money. Tallifer's coinage is known for its purity, and the golden boat is their largest gold coin.

  “Not interested. I don't need money right now.”

  Sulius' face blanches, and Perzey laughs. I turn toward the door again.

  “Wait! I will give the thousand golden boats, whether you participate in the assault or not, as long as you go to Jinmu with my envoy.”

  “Why are you so desperate?”

  Sulius stares straight at me. “Priest-Wizard Kra'cha'len said that without your presence, the assault would most like fail. We cannot afford to leave this Thug Horde group unchecked. They are threatening our only relay line between Tallifer and the Troven's Depths region.”

  I do not know much about Troven's Depths or the surrounding zones. There is supposed to be a lot of wealth to be had fro
m trading with them, but I do not know any specifics. The only thing I do know is that many of the zones are densely populated, and the inhabitants conduct extensive amounts of magical research.

  I look at Perzey and see anger simmering in her eyes.

  “Do you want to go?”

  Surprise is plastered all over Perzey's face, as she turns to me. “Perzey only wants to go, if Perzey can hurt Xenia.”

  “If Xenia attacks you first, do whatever you want. Just leave her alive.”

  With a big grin, Perzey wraps her arm around my neck and kisses me, a long lingering kiss. Her body is pressed tightly against mine, while her tongue pushes passionately into my mouth. It would be a lot more enjoyable, if we were not both wearing armor.

  After a few minutes, Perzey settles onto the flats of her feet, with her hands still resting on my shoulders. A flush colors her cheeks as, she stares at the middle of my chest.

  “Perzey wants to fuck Brand. Perzey . . . Perzey wants to make Brand feel good.”

  Sulius is staring at us, with an expression like he has vomited into his mouth, a few dozen times.

  My hand reaches for the door handle.

  “What about the envoy?”

  I look into Perzey's eyes.

  “Have him out front tomorrow noon, with the money and a courier ship waiting. I'll be licking, kissing and fucking my woman until then.”

  I do not look back to see what Sulius' gagging noises portend.

  The mercenary squad in the corridor falls back in fear, as my aura hits them. Their armor is polished to a brilliant luster, and every one of them has perfect plumes rising from his helm. Their movement are sluggish and show a lack of combat oriented training, but they can probably march on a drill field with the best of them.

  I am not sure, if I should laugh or feel insulted. Sulius and his catamite actually thought these gutless popinjays would be a threat to me?

  Ultimatum

  *** Emer Valley - The Lands of Despair ***

  The Great Fuck Over: Day 87

  Standing atop the south wall of Emer Valley, Thorrin smiled grimly. Wielding a matched pair of axes forged by Thorrin himself, an inhuman whirlwind was tearing into the backs of the enemy. This was the Talon he remembered from before the Great Fuck Over, an unmatched killing machine. Every Thug that tried to stand against him was cut down in less than three blows.

 

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