by James Hunter
Chief Kolle grunted and cleared his throat, breaking everyone from the thoughtful spell. “Honored Chief Sakal may be gone for a while. Perhaps”—he paused, carefully readjusting his robes—“perhaps it would be best to proceed since Grim Jack has clearly won the Trial of Blood and Bone. Every day this new emperor, Robert Osmark, grows more powerful. We can afford no further delays. If we are to weather the growing storm which is the Empire, we need to act now.”
“Yes, yes of course,” Chief Dao said absently, still expectantly, hopefully, searching the tree line. Finally, she sighed, trudged back to her blocky chair, and plopped down as though she were suddenly feeling all the aches and pains of her many years. “Honored Anurak,” she said to the ancient elder who’d so skillfully spun the tale of the Jade Lord and the subsequent Downfall. “Please, initiate the ritual.”
The man nodded a silent reply as the other chieftains shuffled to their seats, easing down with a chorus of groans and sighs. The elderly chief, Anurak, walked toward me, then draped a rail-thin arm around my shoulder and drew me over to the edge of the roaring green fire. We came to a stop just outside the blackened stone fire pit containing the flames, so close the heat was uncomfortably hot against my skin. Anurak dropped his arm from my shoulders, then carefully turned me until my left shoulder was to the flame and he was directly in front of me.
“The crown?” he said, his voice like the rustling of fall leaves, as he extended one arthritic hand. I removed the helm from my head and offered it to him. “Now your left hand.” It wasn’t a question but a command.
I squinted, suspicious, but complied.
Anurak moved in a blink—faster than seemed possible for such a withered old man—drawing a wicked dagger covered in glowing green runes from his belt and lashing out. The blade, honed to a razor’s edge, sliced through my leather glove, leaving a shallow wound in its wake. I cursed, pulling my hand back as an angry jolt of pain raced up my arm and a line of blood welled along the gash. “What the hell?” I spat, instinctively reaching for my warhammer.
“Peace, Grim Jack,” Chief Kolle called out, his voice calming, soothing. “This is the only way. Do as he says.”
Anurak, completely unconcerned, grabbed my wrist, drawing my wounded hand forward, then pushed the crown into my palm, digging the yellowing bones into the wound until streaks of blood ran over everything. He took my fingers, then, and curled them around the crown, offering me a grim smile and a sharp bob of his head before pulling out a leather pouch from his belt. The same sack he’d used to conjure the strange smoke images. Going through the same, deliberate motions, Anurak eased the bag open and pulled free a measured handful of violet sand, which he fed to the fire.
The flames responded in an instant, roaring higher and higher, burning hotter and hotter. The terrible heat beat against my exposed skin like a furnace. I wanted to flinch and back away, but didn’t, not with all those eyes riveted on me—analyzing me, weighing me, judging me. “The crown,” old Anurak said, nodding at my wounded hand, which was dripping with blood. “Thrust it into the flames and hold it there, exposed to the refining magics of old.”
I grimaced, stealing looks between the column of flame and the stooped Anurak. He isn’t serious, I thought. After searching his face, though, I couldn’t see any hint of a joke. The loony old goat really wanted me to stick my hand in there. Nervous sweat broke out across my brow and a slight tremble worked its way into my limbs. When I glanced over at Chief Kolle, he was nodding subtly at me, yes, this is the way. Do it. I took a shuddering breath, pressed my eyes closed, and wantonly stuck my bloody hand and the Crown of the Jade Lord right into the heart of the fire.
I braced for the pain—muscles rigid, jaw clenched tight—knowing this wouldn’t kill me, but it was bound to hurt like crazy. I waited for the ache to begin, but it didn’t come. I felt the blistering heat against my face, but strangely, my hand was all right. Hesitantly, I cracked an eye. I stared in amazement as comforting tongues of green fire kissed my skin, lapping over the wound on my palm like warm water from the tap. In seconds, the blood disappeared and the polished chunks of jade, inset into the crown, began to glow, bleeding a strange opalescent light.
That light, dancing in a multitude of subtle colors—ruby red and burnt gold, sapphire blue and seafoam green—drifted into the air, loitering above jagged edges of the fire as the image of a city appeared: a small army of elegant crystalline spires, glittering in the harsh noonday sun, rising from a large rocky hill surrounded by yawning desert sands. My breath caught, looking at that city—I’d never seen anything like it, not anywhere—but before I could ask a question, the shining buildings disappeared, replaced by a winding passageway, which ended at set of yawning jaws.
There was a stone doorway set into the skull of a long-dead dragon—its head easily the size of a large SUV and studded with serrated yellowed teeth as big as dagger blades. We flowed through the mouth, down a bone-lined gullet, and into some cultist shrine, or maybe a temple, though I’d never seen a temple like this one. A massive spinal column ran down the center of the ceiling, and the support beams had been fashioned from ribs as large around as small trees, while the spaces in between each rib had been filled with intricately carved sandstone.
Several bookcases lined the left wall, all loaded down with thick leather-bound volumes, while a series of display cases sat on the right, housing a huge array of items—swords, daggers, maces, other trinkets—all carved from even more bone. Several wooden benches filled the room like church pews, and to complete the look, a wooden altar, carved and sculpted to resemble a sinuous dragon twisting around a short column, held a single item: a belt, crafted from dragon scale and studded with alternating chunks of polished jade and dragon bone. In the vision, the belt pulsed with a soft light, which seemed to stretch and reach for me, eager to be rejoined with the crown in my hand.
This, no doubt, was the next set item to be found.
The vision flickered and dulled, fading around the edges, and as it did, terrible heat began to invade my arm. With a yelp, I ripped my hand—and the crown, of course—free from the flames as a flood of notifications popped up in front of me, one right after another:
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x1 Level Up!
You have (5) undistributed stat points. Stat points can be allocated at any time.
You have (6) unassigned proficiency points. Proficiency points can be allocated at any time.
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Quest Update: The Jade Lord
After successfully retrieving the Horn of the Ancients and defeating Chakan, Champion of the Lisu clan, in the Trial of Blood and Bone, you’ve earned the support of the Storme Marsh Chieftains. As your reward, you’ve received 32,000 EXP and the right to embark on the Path of the Jade Lord as the Champion of the six named clans of the Dokkalfar. You have also been awarded 200 renown—in-world fame—for completing this ultra-rare quest. Greater renown elevates you within the ranks of Eldgard and can affect merchant prices when selling or buying.
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Quest Alert: Path of the Jade Lord
As the Champion of the six named clans of the Dokkalfar, you’ve been entrusted with the Crown of the Jade Lord and charged with finding the other two missing items needed to complete the Set of the Jade Lord. Now, you must go to Ankara, deep in the heart of the desolate Barren Sands, and uncover the Cult of Arzokh—deadly acolytes of the Dragon Arzokh, known as the Winged Disciples, who guard the Belt of the Jade Lord. Once you’ve discerned the location of their Citadel, take the belt from the cultists, which will reveal the resting place of the final set piece: the Amulet of the Jade Lord.
Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret
Quest Difficulty: Death-Head
Success: Uncover the Cult of Arzokh Citadel and retrieve the Belt of the Jade Lord.
Failure: This is a Death-Head Quest; if you die at any point before completing the objective, you automatically fail and the quest chain will forever be closed to you!
Rew
ard: The Belt of the Jade Lord; Final Clue for the Amulet of the Jade Lord; 40,000 EXP.
Accept: Yes/No?
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I quickly read over the first three notices, closing each one as I finished, but spent a minute reading, then rereading my new quest alert. Though I’d completed several quests with survival as one of the mission requirements, this was the first Death-Head quest I’d seen in the game. I paused and pulled up the wiki, doing a quick search before I committed to something potentially life changing. Bingo. There was only one hit, courtesy of an Osmark Tech Admin with the handle JACOBPAIGE, but it told me everything I needed to know:
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Death-Head Mode
Though there is no Death-Head mode available within Viridian Gate Online regular play, some ultra-rare quest chains—most of which have universal in-game implications—can trigger the Death-Head mode for a select player or group of players until the given quest is accomplished or failed. Death-Head Quests are the most challenging in Viridian Gate Online for a variety of reasons.
First, such quest chains tend to be exceptionally long, requiring the player to conquer multiple top-tier dungeons and defeat several different unique bosses in the process. Second, regular mobs are often replaced with unique NPCs, spawned specifically for the quest chain, who tend to be the most devious and deadly enemies found in Eldgard. Third, Death-Head mode requires that the player not die at any point, for any reason, before completing the entire quest chain. Lastly, Death-Head mode slowly poisons the player or players; following are the effects of the Death-Head debuff per day:
Diseased (24-hour mark): Attack Damage and Spell Strength reduced by 15%; Health, Stamina, and Spirit Regeneration reduced by 25%!
Gut Check (48-hour mark): An additional -10 to all attributes!
Game Over (72-hour mark): Death!
Note, effects are not permanent; they only last until the player either accomplishes the quest chain or dies, at which point all debuffs vanish. Players receiving Death-Head Quests should embark with great caution and extreme preparation!
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I closed out of the wiki, squeezed my eyes shut, and rubbed at my temples. Wow. This was going to make things significantly more complicated. But there was no other way—I’d already come too far and invested too much to shy away now. “Okay,” I said, resigned. “I accept.” The quest alert blinked closed, and as it did a constricting pressure, like an industrial-sized sheet of Saran Wrap being looped around my whole body, settled over me. I wriggled for a moment, then pulled up my active effects interface, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on:
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Current Debuffs
Death-Head Mode: You’ve temporarily activated Death-Head Mode! Time until the Diseased debuff takes effect: 23 hours 59 minutes 35 seconds.
∞∞∞
Yep, this was going to suck. I closed out and turned to Chief Kolle. “Let’s get Cutter and Amara and hightail it back to Yunnam. I’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it.”
TWELVE:
The Scoop
I threw open the door to Darkshard’s Command Center, irritated—someone had somehow managed to temporarily block the Keep’s internal port function. Which meant stairs. Lots of stairs. I marched into the room—expecting to find Abby, Anton, or some other group of Alliance bigwigs—ready to give them a piece of my mind. A piece laced with lots of colorful expletives. I had a Death-Head mission to complete, after all, and the clock was running, so I couldn’t spend all day hiking all over the Keep grounds or climbing a million stairs. My feet faltered, though, and my anger fizzled as I pushed my way in.
The room was empty save for a woman lounging in a high-backed leather chair near the fireplace. She had deeply brown skin and wore a spotless white toga, which stood out in sharp contrast against her flawless complexion. Her hair, a sheet of golden ringlets, hung down to her shoulders and framed a heart-shaped face. She regarded me with emerald eyes, her full lips pulling back in a smile, revealing brilliant white, immaculately straight teeth. Sophia. One of the seven Overminds ruling VGO like the pagan gods and goddesses of old. For a long spell, I could only stand, stare, and contemplate running for my life.
She was unbelievably beautiful but unnatural. More like the beauty of a thunderstorm or a tornado: best admired from a distance. And right now, I wanted distance more than anything else in the world.
“Well don’t be a stranger, Jack,” she said, flicking her wrist. The doors behind me slammed shut with a bang, which reverberated into my teeth. “It’s really been too long since last we met face-to-face, and my have you been busy. A productive little worker bee, buzzing about my business.” She stood, then, and spun in a slow circle, eyeing the room, admiring the tapestries and the dark wood fixtures. She came full circle and fixed her eyes on me with laser-like focus.
“The things you have managed to accomplish in so short a time are impressive. Shadowmancer, Faction Leader, The Bane of Rowanheath, Champion of the Dark Conclave. Very impressive.” She paused and turned her back to me. “But never forget, Jack, how much of your success is owed to me. And never forget that no matter how strong you are, how powerful you become, the Overlords still rule Eldgard.” She looked at me over one shoulder, the ghost of a smile playing along the edges of her lips. “It’s too gloomy in here.” Casually, she reached up and snapped her fingers.
There was a flash of silver light—it swirled through the air and emanated from the walls and floors, bubbling up and out. The thick carpets dissolved as lush grass sprouted from the floors, accompanied by a riot of white daisies and a splash of colorful roses. The dark stone walls, polished to a glow and adorned with thick tapestries, gave way, evaporating as twisting vines enveloped the room. The dark wood table, in turn, collapsed into a pile of dust, carried away by an unfelt breeze as a ridge of rough-hewn granite protruded from the floor.
The room had gone from commanding corporate suite to idyllic natural paradise. All with a snap of her fingers.
“There now. That’s much more aesthetically pleasing, don’t you think?”
I glowered at her, arms folded across my chest. “Is this why you’re here?” I asked, edging over to the rock outcropping and taking a tentative seat. “Did you come all this way just to threaten me a little and show off how powerful you are? You’re an Overmind, Sophia. What passes for a goddess here. I already know exactly how dangerous you are.”
“Oh”—she dipped her head, a coy, pouty smile on her lips—“what a flatterer you are, Jack. But no, I didn’t come just to remind you, though you would do well to remember who you owe your allegiance and prosperity to. Especially in light of this new quest you’re taking on. The Path of the Jade Lord. If you manage to pull it off, you—and by extension, your faction—will be quite the force to be reckoned with. Why, you’ll have Rowanheath and every single Storme Marsh city all under your belt. That’s cause for a big head.” She paused, canting her head to one side. “If you’re not careful, that is. And, more than that, Osmark will be displeased.”
“Why do you care about him?” I asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You approached me specifically to get in Osmark’s way.”
“Who said I care about him? I’m thrilled with your move—bold, arrogant, and devious. I approve wholeheartedly. But this will push things into a state of all-out war. There will be no token gestures. No more half-hearted skirmishes. No facsimile of conflict. It will be real and will almost undoubtedly result in either your destruction or his.” She seesawed her head back and forth as though she couldn’t care less. “Who knows … Perhaps you’ll be the emperor, then.”
“How do you know?” I asked, my voice trembling a little. Understandable, since she was confirming my worst fears. “Can you …” I paused, not wanting to sound dumb. “Can you see into the future?”
She laughed. A melodic sound like a wind chime. “No, no. Not even we Overminds are that powerful—but I am an excellent guesser,” she replied, shooting me a sly
wink. “Using personality profiling, historical models, data mining, and predictive analytics, it’s not hard to figure out where this whole thing is headed. Osmark is a smart man, but he’s also pragmatic and ruthless—you don’t get to be where he is, and accomplish the things he has, without those traits. It’s only a matter of time before my sister, Enyo, clues him in, and when she does, he’ll see your actions as the threat they are and will act accordingly. Simple. Human. Nature. Just consider this a cautionary warning, Jack—I would so hate for you to be caught unawares.”
“Well, thank you for the heads-up, Sophia. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked hesitantly, not really wanting to know the answer. “Because if not, I need to get moving. This is a Death-Head quest, and the clock is ticking.” As though she didn’t know that.
“I do have something else for you.” She waved an empty hand through the air like a stage magician, and a slim leather-bound journal appeared from thin air. She waved an empty hand through the air, and, like a stage magician pulling a dove from thin air, a slim leather-bound journal appeared. She smiled and tapped the tip of the trim book against her chin.
“Wait a second.” I jabbed at the journal with an accusatory finger. “That’s the book I found in the Plague Tunnels, the one Gentleman Georgie was hiding.” Cutter had turned up the item along with the Black Hexblade of Serth-Rog, which I’d used to see Carrera off to the realm of Morsheim for a good long while.
“Quite right,” she said, “but don’t worry—it’s still in your inventory. I just cribbed a copy for myself, duplicated it right out of your stash. One of the many perks of my significant power.”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “You’re here to talk to me about some dumb journal? It’s not even worth anything. I mean, it’s just names. Pages of names that don’t mean anything. Not even Cutter could figure it out, and he’s put out feelers all over the Black Market.”