by N H Paxton
“Vlad is either insane, or book knows what is asked.” I pulled my lips to one side of my mouth and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s pretty cray, dude. This game constantly blows my mind.”
“Book says is possible to make custom guild, but needs very rare material.” I tilted my head and scratched at my chin. The mysteries were unraveling.
“Yeah, I just wonder what kind of materials it’s talking about. The rare part concerns me,” Garret said quietly.
“Vlad has hundreds of rare ingredients in workshop. Book will be hard-pressed to find component Vlad does not have.” There was a sense of pride in my words, and I felt it in my chest.
My collection of rare and unusual ingredients, provided so very thoughtfully by members of the Crimson Alliance, was truly a sight to behold.
“It says we need a Heart of Darkness.” Garret’s statement had the inflection of a question more than a statement.
“Eh, need what now?” I was pulled from my prideful musings like one pulls a fish through a hole while ice fishing.
“A Heart of Darkness. It’s a corrupted soul of a being that has been given a firm purpose. That’s all it says.” As he finished speaking, I received a notification.
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: The Heart of Absolute Darkness
You have discovered that, in order to found a custom guild within Eldgard, you require an incredibly rare and powerful artifact: a Heart of Darkness. Unfortunately, these can only be acquired by defeating terrifyingly powerful creatures that have been given a mission by a godling. What’s worse, those creatures must also be corrupted. Perhaps you could start your search in a library? If this quest is failed, it can never be undertaken again.
Quest Class: Unique, Epic
Quest Difficulty: Infernal
Success: Defeat a Corrupted Emissary and retrieve the Heart of Darkness
Failure: Fail to retrieve the Heart of Darkness within 60 hours
Reward: 150 gold; a Heart of Darkness; schematics for a Custom Guild Banner
Accept: Yes/No?
<<<>>>
“Yes,” I muttered, the challenge of the quest line, especially the timeframe for failure, weighing heavily on my mind.
Previously, when I was given a quest it would provide very specific details regarding how to go about handling the quest as a whole. This particular one was severely light on details.
As soon as I had accepted the quest, a small icon of a timer appeared in the corner of my vision, spiraling down from 60:00:00. Timed quests were no joke.
“Yes?” Garret said, evidently confused.
“Oh, was given quest. You were not?” It seemed odd that I would receive a quest from the same information that Garret was just informed of, but he would not.
“No, I wasn’t. Maybe it’s because you’re wanting to start the guild?” Garret shrugged, then stood up.
We both turned sharply as the book closed itself with a slam, then began to burn.
“No, no!” I tried to smother the embers that took hold of the book, but I couldn’t. They simply continued to smolder and destroy the priceless knowledge within.
“I’ve heard about these, Lord Vlad.” Garret stepped back, fear written on his face.
“What? Help stop book from burning!” I was angry, as Garret was simply not doing anything to help prevent this terrible loss.
This book was full of priceless knowledge. How could he be cowering at such a travesty?
“It’s a Vellum Arcanus, they’re living tomes. When the information inside them is used up, they self-destruct.” He continued to point at the tome, which was now mostly incinerated.
“What is with fear? Why afraid? Book was priceless!” I took the cloth I was using to try to smother the embers off the book. All that remained was a pile of ash.
“They’re sent by demons,” he said, his voice quivering.
Eldritch Lore
“NEED BOOK REGARDING old souls, Emissaries, rare crafting ingredients.” I picked through the shelves in the library, hunting for anything that might be of use.
Garret had taken another aisle and was also looking for the same kinds of tomes. As I searched, I grabbed a small armful of books I thought might be useful: Broken Souls of the Olde, Rare Flora and Fauna of the Ancient Realm, Centuries of Disgust: How to Cook with Eldritch Ingredients, and Dungeon Divining: The Delver’s Guide to Loot and Where to Find it.
I dumped my books onto a table and set to work, flipping through pages in a fever, trying to find any and every bit of information I could regarding the Heart of Darkness. The first book provided some useful information, mostly about Emissaries.
“Emissaries are ancient carriers of message, oft dispensed on a task of great import. These goals, though typically shown to align with the ideals and will of a god or godling, are usually vacuous in nature, and can be construed in any number of ways. The Emissary may act in any way they see fit, so long as it does not depose the ideals of the one whose message they carry.
In unusual circumstances, an Emissary can become corrupted through misuse of their power. Though rare, they are dealt with harshly by the deity which they serve; this punishment may come in many forms, including complete annihilation. In extreme circumstances, so long as the deity’s will is served, the corrupted may continue to serve in their position for as long as the deity sees fit.”
Well, that description was most certainly concerning. Emissaries were messengers of the gods, granted great power, and on a mission. If there was anything I knew, it was the power of an individual when they were on a mission. I rifled through the next book, hoping to find a mention of the Heart of Darkness, but came up empty. I did, however, find information regarding some rare items to be added to my collection.
[Rot Moss] was a rare kind of moss that destroyed plants from the inside out. It was an airborne species that only grew in extremely wet climates with a high temperature base. The swamps surrounding Yunnam were perfect for the propagation thereof.
[Treant Seedlings], or more specifically baby tree demons, grew in Yunnam as well. Or perhaps they once had, since the book they were mentioned in hadn’t been updated in a hundred years or so.
[Oblivion Nectar], a strong, malodorous fluid that was created by the Duskheart Flower. A flower which grew only in the darkness and strictly in swampy terrain.
[Swamp Leech Essence], or rather the spiritual essence of a Swamp Leech. Until reading this passage, I was unaware that the Swamp Leech was a Spirit-type monster.
Hell, until coming to V. G. O., I wasn’t aware that monsters even existed, outside of the human soul. Working in a world where monsters, demons, and spirits all existed was still a bit overwhelming, especially coming from a world that was as scientific and constant as Earth.
[Dark Yarrow], a type of poisonous plant that grew in the swamps. It was infused with the power of Umbra and could be made into a potent Umbral poison. It also had the capacity to be made into a strong healing concoction, but only for characters with a “dark” alignment. That wasn’t my alignment, but the Shadow Templars of the Maa’Tal could potentially benefit.
I stocked this information away for later and continued to read. The third book, Centuries of Disgust: How to Cook with Eldritch Ingredients, revealed nothing aside from how disturbing one could make a meal of [Ancient C’thulic Tentacle].
The fourth and final book proved incredibly useful. Evidently, deep in the southern swamps of the Storme Marshes, to the south of Rai Nam, was a location of undead and redead creatures, called The Dearth. The legend within the book was enlightening.
“The Dearth: A gods-forsaken place long sealed and lost to time. Within, it is said, lies the corrupted soul of an Emissary, once tasked with the collection of powerful relics and the destruction thereof. However, the legend also tells that the creature, no longer a shining Emissary of the goddess of safekeeping, began to horde its treasures, keeping them to itself.
Through the now-tainted being’s power, The Dearth sa
nk below the swamps of the Storme Marshes and lies quiet to this day, a burial place for that which should not have existed in the first place.”
“A dungeon delve, then?” Garret’s gravelly voice came from over my shoulder. I hadn’t even noticed he was there. Did the man have an absurdly high Stealth skill?
“Yes, The Dearth, it says.” I closed my eyes and let out a gentle breath, slow, measured.
“Ah, man. I don’t want to go there. It’s got all kinds of messed-up stuff.” Garret wrinkled his face and provided a very convincing frown.
“You have heard?” I asked, interested.
“Yeah, dude. There were some people who went out there to try to find it a while back. They were killed by hordes of these flying scorpion-hornet things.” He shuddered as he finished the sentence.
“B’lyad,” I swore. It sounded absolutely terrible. And incredibly unscientific. Flying scorpion hornets?
“And that’s not even the worst of it. The one guy I talked to said it wasn’t even there. Like, their map showed the dungeon name when they arrived, but there was no entrance or anything. It was just an empty place.” He threw his hands up and shrugged.
“Has been hidden for reason, then.” I nodded thoughtfully as the clues started fitting together in my head.
I pulled up my map while Garret edged around the table. I looked all around the Storme Marshes, but there was nothing marked with the name The Dearth. I had never done a true dungeon delve before, so I didn’t know if dungeons were typically named on the map or if they had to be discovered.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Garret plopped another book down on the table in front of me with a wry smile.
“But I found this,” he added. The book was titled Places Beyond: That Which Should Not, But Does.
“Title is vague and also confusing.” I shook my head, dismissing the entire thing outright. I didn’t have time for more word puzzles.
“Dude, that’s not the strange part of the book. It’s empty.” Garret flipped the cover open, and sure enough, the pages were all blank. Every. Single. One.
They even lacked the impression from a pen or quill.
“Why is book blank?” I picked it up and felt power thrum through my hand.
There was something powerful and intense attached to the book, but I couldn’t discern what it was.
“Feel that?” Garret smirked as he put a hand on his hip.
“Is power, ancient, unknowable.” I stared at the cover of the book; the entire thing was in pristine condition. It looked like it had been bound this very same morning.
“Yeah, it makes my skin crawl. So, what’s the plan, boss-man?” He was now sitting on the table behind me, his feet barely touching the floor.
“Gather Ebenguard, we leave in morning. But tonight, must make some things. Must be prepared for everything.”
Garret stood, then quickly saluted, his fist slamming against his chest, before taking off out of the library.
“Okay, Vlad. Time to prepare.” I tucked the two books, Places Beyond: That Which Should Not, But Does, and Dungeon Divining, into my inventory and started to leave.
“Ahem.” Janet’s voice came from behind me. Did everyone have a crazy-high Stealth skill here?
“Oh, hello, Vlad was just leaving. There is something he can do for you?” I offered my best smile, but immediately felt myself withering under her stare.
“You’ll check those out proper, if you don’t mind. You’ll also pay recompense for the book you destroyed.” She held out a hand expectantly, her fingers wriggling in a “give me money” way.
“Of course, but book destroyed self.” I shrugged, all pretense of trying to please her melted away.
“It destroyed itself? Do you take me for a child, you blubbering buffoon?” The alliteration of the insult made me cringe.
“No, was Vellum Arcanus, not trying to cause tricks.” I held up a hand, hoping to stave off her verbal assault.
“Fine, suppose it was a Vellum Arcanus, will you replace the knowledge lost? How will we recover such a precious volume?” She crossed her arms, turned sideways, and gave me a most angry glare.
“Vlad will find way,” I lied. I had no way to replace that information.
“Very well. But the two books you have. Produce them so I may log your removal.” She suddenly had a book and quill in her hands, as though they had always been there.
I pulled the two volumes from my inventory and presented their titles to her. She scribbled them down hastily, then snapped her book shut.
“Can leave now?” I felt like a child at school again, under the watchful gaze of gospoja Erlinger, my elementary teacher, after being subjected to discipline for upsetting the classroom with noise or lack of focus.
“Yes, I believe all things have been properly attended. You’ll return those within a week or suffer the consequences.” She turned and stalked away, her heeled boots clacking on the stone floor.
Finally, I was free. I turned about and started the journey toward the workshop, the last rays of the day’s sun glinting off some puddles from the recent rain we had. The sounds of the Crimson Alliance’s primary base of operations sang around me like a discordant hymn of humanity’s ideals. I wanted nothing more than silence.
I arrived at the workshop unmolested, for which I was thankful. Dealing with more people today simply would not have been a good choice on their behalf. Besides, I had a pair of items I wanted to make, one of which needed to be mass produced for the war effort in Rowanheath.
I arrived at my workstation to see that the basin had been emptied, and my glassware stock had been refilled. I needed to remember to thank the crew when I had a chance. I set to work immediately on a new type of explosive head for ballistae bolts—I called it the Javelin, after the missile used by the Americans back on Earth.
I pulled a ballistae bolt head, made from alchemic steel, from beneath my workstation. I also gathered the necessary tools of this particular job: a runic chisel, powdered chalk, Dust of Amaranthine, and Blaze Ivy.
The Blaze Ivy I rendered down into a fine dust through careful trituration with my mortar and pestle. This I combined with the powdered chalk and the Dust of Amaranthine, a powerful ritual component that was used by high-level Rune Scribes. They had a formal name, something to do with Runic Enchanters, but I couldn’t be bothered to remember what they were actually called.
These powders were combined into a single entity, which I then mixed with an Aqua Vitae, an incredibly potent alcohol that was both perfectly polar and perfectly non-polar. It would mix with anything in the alchemical world; sometimes it destroyed that ingredient outright. That was often a major loss of productivity. The entire concoction I had prepared went into an inkpot, which I had labeled clearly so as not to be inappropriately used for actual writing.
The resultant liquid, what little there was of it, was a deep amber in color. I narrowed my eyes at it for a moment. It was supposed to be red. The spell that I was enchanting into the missile head was a flaming explosion. Why wasn’t it red?
I set the inkpot down on the counter and rubbed my chin. Something was missing, some key bit of information I couldn’t remember. It had to do with the color of the ink. Was it not supposed to be red before it was enchanted into the object? That was it, the ink would be inert until it was placed into the runic symbol. I nodded as I worked, making sure I was paying close attention to every important step.
Taking the runic chisel in hand, I careful inscribed the ballistae tip with the proper symbol: branching ivy that worked its way around the entire steel cap. I followed that step with the elemental enchantment, which required fewer words and hand waving and more simple inking. I dipped a nearby quill into the inkpot and placed a large dab of it into the inscription I had made. The ink flowed from the quill onto the missile head, following the lines I had carefully carved.
I expected the entire thing to need to be inked by hand, but instead the liquid flowed out of the pot and placed itself within the lin
es of the inscription, defying gravity and human logic all at the same time.
“Is impressive,” I mumbled to myself as the last drops of the ink floated their lazy way over to the spots that needed them. There was the exact amount of ink that the enchantment needed. I thought I had measured in excess, intent to make extra for further work on another head, but it looked like the entire process was magically automated. The world of Viridian Gate Online was constantly amazing me.
The automated processes were not the case with alchemy, however; I had more than once overflowed a vial and had to clean up the contents. More wasted work.
I was interrupted from my musings by a ding in my ear, which I had learned meant I had received a message.
<<<>>>
Personal message from Ezral Viktorum
Vlad, you hide in your little safe space within the walls of the Crimson Alliance. I am watching, I see you scurry about and make your weapons and craft your toys. I know what you’re doing, I know where you’re going, and I know that I will kill you within the next 72 hours.
Viktor never forgets.
<<<>>>
Ah hell, Viktor again? His name left an incredibly sour taste in my mouth. He was one of the few parts of my past that simply refused to disappear. It was only a few days ago that he had tried to kill me and had been stymied.
And it seemed like he was still after my blood; it was good that some things never changed, especially for the Russian Mafia. I put aside the message. There would be time to worry about dying in a most painful and humiliating way later. Besides, hidden gauntlet wrist crossbows wouldn’t craft themselves.
I took the recently created and now fully armed—and also red, just as I had remembered—Javelin head to the leader of the Enchanters I had employed.
“Oh ho! Look at this beaut!” The man, Reif was his name, was a tall Wode with platinum blond hair.
His accent was very deep, either Irish or Scottish. It was difficult for me to discern, not having dealt with many individuals from either country. He held the missile head in front of his face, turning it about.