“Stop it,” Alexion snapped, irritated by their bickering. “We have enough to accomplish without such petty infighting. Keep your personal issues at bay and focus on the task at hand. There is more at stake here than your own pride.”
The two men lapsed into an angry silence, still glaring at each other. However, they had at least ceased their squabbling. Alexion could feel the hollow void hum softly in the back of his mind as he contemplated what they were about to do next. Their actions would change not only the fate of his own city and complete the first step toward completing the Lady’s quest, but he expected it would also send ripples through the game world.
***
The group made their way up the staircase leading to the next level of the temple, their footsteps echoing in the gloomy, stone stairwell. Jason’s thoughts were distracted, and he lingered toward the back of the group. He would be next to useless right now without any minions. He supposed he could have asked the group to go back through the maze and recover a handful of ragtag skeletons, but they needed to keep moving. The clock was still ticking.
He was just going to have to rely on his teammates for now.
“What is this?” Frank muttered from the front of the group. He stood near the top of the staircase and was stooped over looking at something resting against the stairs.
As Jason approached, he could see that Frank had discovered another skeleton. Yet its clothing was in much better repair than the corpses the group had witnessed in the Hippie’s maze. The dead man’s tunic was a dark green, the colors faded with time, but still bearing a striking resemblance to the attire worn by members of House Baen. A sword and several packs lay around the man, their contents strewn about the staircase.
“Do you think this could be Lord Baen’s son?” Eliza asked in a concerned voice, adjusting her glasses.
“I don’t know. He looks like he’s been dead for a long time…” Jason trailed off, dropping to a knee and inspecting the corpse more closely – rifling through the dead man’s pockets for some evidence of his identity. His Perception skill highlighted what appeared to be a fractured bone along the man’s thigh and a large tear in his leather greaves.
Perhaps the cause of death? he wondered.
Then he caught sight of something crumpled in the skeleton’s right hand. Jason gingerly pulled back the skeleton’s fingers, the bone brittle and stiff. With a crack, a finger snapped away, allowing Jason to retrieve the object the man had been holding when he died. It was a piece of paper, the surface yellowed with age and covered in dust. As Jason unfolded the paper, what appeared to be a signet ring fell out, and the metal rattled against the floor of the staircase.
Jason carefully swiped away the grime covering the letter, trying his best not to damage the paper itself. After several seconds, he could make out text scrawled on the paper. It appeared the dead man had left behind a note. His teammates crowded around as they read through the contents of the ancient letter.
To Whoever Finds This Letter,
You surely will not know me. I doubt my family will send anyone to recover my body or provide rescue. I will die here, alone and forgotten. I have known that for some time. And so, these are my final words, likely addressed to a stranger – if they are read by anyone at all.
I failed in the quest that my father forced upon me, despite my protests. This island was rumored to be cursed long before we set foot here, and our crews fervently avoided its shores. I told my father that this mad quest was a risk to our family, but he would not listen. He was obsessed with this relic and convinced that it would bring our family more wealth and power.
Yet the search for this relic has only brought death. Half of our crew perished to the monster that guards the island before we had even cleared the mists. Upon making landfall, we were then set upon by a group of monstrous lizards, and our crew was taken captive at the hands of these savages. Even at death’s door, I am embarrassed to admit that if I had not been attending the call of nature, I would surely have perished as well.
And now I am the last member of our crew, and I am about to join those good men in the afterlife. I have only made it this far on guile alone, but the creature that guards the first floor has finally brought my journey to an end.
If anyone finds this letter, please return it to my father, Lord Baen of Falcon’s Hook. I wish him to know what became of his son and his crew. I hope that my father will read my last words – the words I was too weak to say in life. Yet death gives a man courage…
You are a hateful man, and I hope you burn for your greed.
Thomas Baen, House Baen
“Wow,” Riley murmured. “So, I guess that the old man was full of crap.”
“It certainly looks that way,” Jason agreed.
Frank shook his head as he looked back at the corpse. “But this guy, Thomas, looks like he’s been dead for years. I don’t understand. Didn’t Lord Baen claim that his son had only made this journey recently?”
“That’s what he said…” Eliza replied quietly, a troubled expression painted on her face.
Jason rubbed his chin for a moment, lost in thought as he tried to piece together what Lord Baen had told them and the events he had witnessed in his visions. The Keeper and his son had clearly managed to activate the temple defenses, but, according to Lord Baen, the mists and the tentacle creature were new problems. What if he had been telling the truth about that part?
“Perhaps, the mists and the tentacle creature weren’t attacking ships until Thomas came here.” Jason said slowly. “What if Thomas somehow reactivated the temple’s defenses?”
This would make sense given Jason’s visions. The Keeper and his son had likely managed to activate the temple defenses a long time ago. Maybe those defenses had faded over the years, which would mean that Thomas’ presence had awoken that ancient power once again. That explanation began to hang together, but Jason wasn’t quite ready to admit to his friends that he had possibly been hallucinating the memories of an ancient NPC.
“That sort of follows,” Frank replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “It would explain why Lord Baen seemed so dead set on finding this relic and why he didn’t seem that worried about his son. He already knew his son was dead and he was focused on retrieving the relic since that would be the only way to remove the mists and subdue the tentacle creature.”
The group lapsed into a troubled silence as they contemplated Frank’s words.
“It might also explain the lizardmen,” Eliza offered tentatively.
“How so?” Frank asked in confusion.
“Well, they seemed desperate to make more sacrifices to the tentacle creature. Maybe that is their way of placating it. Yet there were hundreds of lizardmen. How could their population have grown so large if they kept sacrificing members of their own tribe? They must have been sacrificing humans…”
“Damn, that makes sense,” Frank said, shaking his head. Jason couldn’t help but agree. That would explain the human skulls they had seen outside the lizardman encampment.
“If you all are right, then Lord Baen’s plan was crazy,” Riley said, her dark mana flaring angrily. “First, he sent his son to his death and then he kept sending his own crews after the same relic knowing that no one was coming back? If that’s the case, then Lord Baen was responsible for the loss of his family’s wealth. He destroyed his own trading fleet.”
“It’s even worse than that, though,” Eliza said quietly. “That also means that Lord Baen knew he was sending us into a death trap. He set us up.”
Jason could feel his anger rising. “Well, if that’s the case, we will need to have some words with Lord Baen when we get back,” he said grimly.
“I would be happy to help you explain the situation to him,” Riley added, her hand clenching around the hilt of one of her daggers. As she finished speaking, another quest update appeared in Jason’s vision.
Quest Update: Strength of Many
Your party has made it past the first floor of the temp
le and has discovered the remains of Lord Baen’s son. You have also begun to realize that Lord Baen may have lied to you regarding Anguine Isle and the dangers the island poses. What you decide to do with that information is up to you.
P.S. – We suggest a violent and painful death for Lord Baen. Just our two cents…
Difficulty: A
Success: Gather the following three ingredients:
Heart of a dungeon boss.
The Dark One’s Grimoire.
Two willing sacrifices.
Secondary Success: Recover the relic that is creating the mists surrounding Anguine Isle and return it to Lord Baen.
Failure: Unknown
Reward: Advancement in the Path of the Dark
Jason forced himself to swallow his anger. He wanted to stab the selfish old noble, but they couldn’t do anything about Lord Baen right now. Hell, they might not even make it off this island at the rate they were going. They only had so long until the lizardmen sacrificed the sailors – assuming the creatures had even kept their end of the bargain. He intended to betray them after all…
“Let’s keep moving,” Jason said, carefully stowing Thomas’ letter in his pack. “We will deal with Lord Baen later. Right now, we need to complete the second level of the temple.”
His teammates nodded in agreement, angry expressions still lingering on their faces. Frank took point, making his way further up the stairway. As he crested the top of the stairs, he froze in place, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.
Riley nearly ran into him, and she swatted his shoulder. “Give a girl some warning.”
A moment later, Jason could understand why Frank had stopped so suddenly. The staircase opened into a massive chamber. Actually, chamber might not have been accurate. They were standing in what appeared to be a medieval amphitheater. A stage rested along the northern part of the room while the southern section was dominated by a set of stands. Stretching up several stories into the air, stone benches extended the width of the room in a semi-circle.
The staircase leading up from the first floor exited onto the side of the stage, which left the group staring up at the stands. Another wide staircase stretched up through the rows of seats, and dead-ended into a set of broad double doors at the back of the theater. Jason could only assume that this must be the way to the next level of the temple.
“What the hell is this?” Frank said, his voice carrying in the large room.
“I have no idea,” Jason murmured in reply. “Leave it to the Hippie to build an amphitheater in his temple.”
“I guess we can make our way up that second set of stairs,” Riley said, pointing to the staircase leading up through the stands.
“Ahh, you finally made it!” the Hippie exclaimed, clapping his hands. He had suddenly appeared in the first row, a bowl of what appeared to be popcorn settled in his lap. Fluffy and Felix were sitting beside him, the sheep looking especially uncomfortable at being forced into a sitting position.
“What is this place?” Frank demanded, frustration tinging his voice.
“It’s Fluffy’s theater, of course,” the Hippie replied in confusion. “It gets rather dull around here, and so we decided to build something to keep us occupied.” He placed a hand to the side of his mouth and continued in a stage whisper, “Fluffy wanted to be a playwright in his youth.”
Jason massaged his temple with one hand to ward off the headache he felt coming on. “Okay, it’s a theater, but can’t we just walk up those stairs to the next level.”
“Tsk, tsk,” the Hippie replied. “That would ruin all of the fun. We haven’t even assigned your parts yet or begun the first act of the play.”
“And if we simply refuse to take part in this play?” Riley demanded, crossing her arms.
“Well, then I suppose you won’t be making it to the next level,” the Hippie replied with a shrug and a snap of his fingers. As the sound echoed through the chamber, the rattle of bones suddenly filled the room. A legion of undead began to knit themselves together among the stands. Several hundred undead men and women suddenly stood in neat rows as their dull, void-like eyes turned to face the stage in unison.
“Oh, shit,” Jason murmured. They were now completely outnumbered.
“Besides, look at everyone that showed up to see the show!” the Hippie said, waving a hand at their new audience. “Can you imagine the riot if we had to refund their tickets? They have been waiting for ages to see the show!”
“Fine, fine,” Jason replied in an irritated voice. “What do we need to do?”
“Ahh, now that’s the spirit! Now, which script should we use?” A pile of papers suddenly appeared in the Hippie’s hand, and he shuffled through the stack anxiously. “Ahh, this one would be perfect!” he exclaimed a moment later, brandishing a script in the air. “This is a Fluffy original, so you’re sure to love it.”
“This is going to be bad,” Eliza said, glancing at the group with a worried expression.
“Let’s just hope it isn’t a musical,” Frank murmured.
Ignoring Frank and Eliza, the Hippie continued, “This play is entitled Mary had a Little Lamb. Now, I know what you’re thinking – this is going to be derivative drivel, and there may be some infringement issues. However, I assure you that Fluffy has put his own twist on this classic tale of a little girl’s love for her sheep.”
“That’s not really a tale so much as a nursery rhyme,” Frank muttered. “Is this guy nuts?”
“After going through weeks of this, I’m pretty sure the answer is a hard yes,” Eliza answered dryly.
“Now, now. Please respect the director,” the Hippie said, placing a hand to his chest. “I will help bring Fluffy’s creative vision to the big screen! Or stage, I suppose. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road!”
With that, the Hippie snapped his fingers once more. The world began to stutter and jerk around the group, Jason’s teammates looking around in confusion as the amphitheater faded from view. Then, with a sudden flash of light, the group abruptly found themselves standing in a field of brilliant emerald grass that swayed gently in the breeze. Bright sunlight shone down from a cloudless sky. The edge of a forest loomed to the west, the tree line just visible in the distance.
“What is this?” Frank asked, whirling around to take in their new surroundings. The rest of the group looked equally confused at the unexpected change in scenery.
Jason glanced at Alfred where he stood impassively nearby. Jason had experienced these types of visions before, although perhaps nothing this vivid. He raised his hand, realizing that he still had full control of his body. Maybe this wasn’t a vision. Had the AI given the water god the ability to create miniature pocket universes? If so, that didn’t bode well for this next challenge.
“Mary had a little lamb, it’s fleece as black as night,” the Hippie’s voice suddenly boomed from the sky, the god nowhere to be seen.
As the Hippie spoke these words, Eliza’s appearance suddenly changed, her outfit warping into a colorful sundress and her wand lengthening to form a shepherd’s staff. At the same time, a small flock of a dozen sheep appeared nearby, their fleece a traditional white and gray. Fluffy’s obsidian form stood in the center of the group, the god’s pet looking around himself with an exasperated expression as though uncertain why he had suddenly been injected into the story.
“And everywhere that Mary went, her black lamb was sure to cause a fight. So Mary hired… umm… she hired mercenaries, so that her sheep could avoid a fright! Yeah, that totally rhymes…”
As the Hippie finished the next tortured verse, Jason’s clothing began to change. His leather armor and daggers abruptly disappeared and were replaced with a thick chainmail tunic and greaves. A longsword now swung from his waist and he could feel the weight of a shield strapped to his back. A frantic glance at Frank and Riley confirmed that their armor and weapons were also undergoing similar changes.
The Hippie coughed to clear his throat before continuing. “Now, Mary ha
d a quest, it was an interesting test. She had agreed to deliver her flock, to a neighboring man wearing a white frock. The man had also been quite clear, Mary must protect the sheep she holds so dear. For if any sheep were to die, then she wouldn’t be given another try.
“And so begins the tale, of a striking maid and the quest she must not fail!”
A quest notification crashed into Jason’s field of view. By the confused expressions on his teammates’ faces, he could only assume they were looking at the same prompt.
New Quest: Mary Had a Little Quest
Your party has been conscripted to take part in a play that was presumably written by a sheep, and that is now being directed by a possibly insane god. In case you didn’t understand the god’s poor rhyming, your job is to deliver the herd of sheep to a contact in the nearby town of Griswald without allowing any of the sheep to die. Defend those cuddly bastards with your life.
P.S. – Your classes have also been changed for the duration of the play… ahem, quest – I meant “quest.”
Difficulty: B
Success: Deliver the herd safely to the contact in Griswald.
Failure: Allow any of the sheep to die.
Reward: Completion of the temple’s second floor.
“Are you kidding me? I’m a mercenary now?” Frank said, his hands darting through the air as he reviewed his notifications and Character Status screen.
With a growing sense of dread, Jason pulled up his own system messages.
System Notice
Your class has been temporarily changed from Necromancer to Mercenary. Your stats have been reallocated to Strength, Dexterity, and Vitality, and your spellcasting skills and spells have been temporarily removed.
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