by N H Paxton
<<<>>>
Shredding Greataxe of Bone
Weapon Type: Heavy Bladed; Greataxe
Class: Rare, Two-handed
Base Damage: 32 (+3 Blunt)
Primary Effects: +5 points shadow damage on hit.
Secondary Effects: Fragile: 1% chance to break weapon on hit.
Elastic Swing: The weapon’s head is attached to the haft with tendons, giving the swing of the weapon an unusual arc pattern.
If you should ever be in desperate need of a weapon, remember that your bones are just as good as a club.
<<<>>>
It was a greataxe made from the bones of some creature. The physics on it must have been incredibly nasty, but the stats were just terrible. I would need to do some work to improve that for sure.
“Dude, put that down. That thing has got to be all kinds of diseased and gross.” Garret looked at me with disgust.
“No, Vlad can improve. But not now, am having deadline.” I tucked the item into my inventory, looking at the absurd weight of the item add to my low carry weight.
I looked up in the corner of my vision briefly and saw the timer for the quest counting down. It read thirty-nine hours and twelve minutes. Time was quickly running from me.
“Whatever, dude. It’s your diseases.” Garret waved a hand in the air as he took a couple steps toward the exit from the room that would lead into the tunnels.
“Ken! We’re moving out.” Eberand called after the wayward Rogue, who came trudging back into the room, dragging his feet.
His face had a distinct green tinge to it.
“Ugh, alright.” The poor fellow was holding his stomach as he crossed through the room.
Ken, Garret, and I made our way into the tunnels, Eberand taking up the rear.
I spun quickly when the sound of a metallic click invaded the space. Eberand smacked a hand against his neck, pulling a small dart from the place between his helm and his chest plate. He turned it in his fingers and shook his head.
“Poison, nothing to be worried about. My Health regen is high enough to fight it off.” He tossed the dart to the ground and continued walking.
“Dude, this dungeon is absolutely trying to kill us. I’ve got a couple spare antidotes, take them.” Ken handed Eberand two vials of thick green liquid.
“That’s not everything you have, right? You have more?” Garret leaned against the wall of the tunnel, digging through his inventory as well.
“No, that’s it. I used a couple when we were fighting the Scorponets. I usually run with a complement of six, but I was busy before we left.” Ken shook his head, then gave a slight smile. “I’d recommend drinking one now.” He nodded at Eberand emphatically.
“Fine, fine. These things taste like too-strong peppermint.” Eberand uncorked one of the antidotes and poured it down his throat.
He let the vial fall to the ground when he was finished. “Blech.”
“Take these as well.” I handed him my last two Health regen potions.
“And I don’t have any antidotes, either. I thought I had some...” Garret’s voice trailed off as he continued to dig through his inventory.
“It’s fine, guys. My Health regen is awesome. It’s not really a big deal.” Eberand waved a dismissive hand at all of us, then began the march again.
We all fell into line, moving quickly and quietly.
“Any idea how much deeper this place goes?” Garret was running his right hand along the stone wall of the tunnel as we walked, the action providing a slight brushing noise.
It was constant, irritating, and very loud in the small tunnel. It was interrupted when I heard a ding in my ear. I had received a message.
<<<>>>
Personal Message from Dark Collector
Vlad,
You’re intruding in a place you’re not supposed to be. Turn around, go home, live your pathetic little life. This place was sealed and hidden for a reason. I don’t like people who snoop in my business.
Leave or perish.
The Dark Collector.
<<<>>>
“Dark Collector is here,” I announced in a general statement. Everyone stopped moving, turning almost in unison.
“What? Wait, who’s that?” Garret looked shocked for a moment, then confused.
“Dark Collector sent threat when made Gamma. Said he would take from dead hands. Has problem with others having rare things.” I shrugged slightly at the end of my sentence.
“You’re playing it off with a shrug?” Eberand raised an eyebrow judgingly.
There was an empty vial in his hand, and he was rocking it back and forth. The inside of the glass was stained with green, an antidote.
“Is not problem. Lore book said fallen Emissary had corrupted Dearth. Evidently Dark Collector is fallen Emissary. Is likely final boss of dungeon.” I nodded, the links connecting in my head as I spoke.
“Dude, I wonder what kind of badass loot he’ll drop.” Ken was rubbing his hands together greedily.
“Dark Collector sent message, is not happy we are in home.” I rubbed the back of my head, furrowing my brow.
“Oh, he’s not happy we’re here? Sucks for him, dude. We’re gonna wreck his shit and take all of his awesome stuff.” Ken punched his palm with a fist, a wide smile on his face.
Eberand’s metal armor clunked as he leaned against a wall. His face looked pale, and his body shivered slightly.
He pulled a Health regen potion from his belt and chugged it. Color began to fill his face again.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you okay?” Garret, who had just been irritated with him, was by his side in an instant.
He grasped Eberand’s hand. There was a quick flutter of emotions on Garret’s face, then he stepped back and dropped Eberand’s hand.
“I mean, of course you’re okay. Psh, you’re Eberand.”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Eberand gave him a curious glance, then moved to stand up straight. He braced himself against the wall, but fell to a knee, his plate armor clanking hard against the unforgiving stone.
“Oh shit.” Garret grabbed Eberand’s arm to help steady him.
“Just...” Eberand slowly sunk to the ground, Garret helping him to sit against the wall. “I just need a minute.” A green potion found its way into his hand. It was our last antidote.
“Man, you’re not looking great.” Ken was quick to point out the obvious.
Eberand’s breathing was labored, his face pale and covered in sweat. His hands grasped around his belt for a potion but came back empty.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Eberand muttered as he visibly fought to keep his eyes open.
He coughed hard, then turned his head and spat a wad of blood on the stone floor.
“I thought you were on it with those antidotes. They didn’t help?” Garret was kneeling very close to Eberand, his face well within his personal space.
“Bro, back up a bit, yeah?” Eberand waved a hand in front of his face, then let his hand fall to his side.
“They didn’t touch it, some kind of magical poison. Where’s Zeno when I need him, right?” Another coughing fit racked his body as he spasmed. He leaned back against the wall gently, his eyes closing.
“No, no, no. Don’t die. Dude, no. We need you down here. You’re never going to make it back in time!” Garret was holding onto Eberand’s hand with both of his, pleading.
A slight smile painted itself on Eberand’s face as he opened his eyes just enough to see.
“You’ve got this, bud. See you—” He coughed hard, interrupting his sentence. After he recovered from the fit, he continued. “In a few hours.”
Eberand’s hand fell from Garret’s grasp, his body going limp against the wall.
Garret’s face fell to a sullen expression of fear, then changed to anger. Eberand’s body began to vanish before our eyes, shattering like fragments of light as Garret stood, his fists clenched tightly enough to make the metal of his gauntlets groan.
“Screw.
This. Place.” His words were measured and cold as he turned to the tunnels that would lead us farther into the dungeon. “I’m going to kill that shithead.” His fist slammed into the wall, leaving a crack. Dust fell from the stone when he pulled it back.
“Damn.” Ken stared at the ground where Eberand’s body had been.
“Good news is Eberand is not NPC. Will come back.” I spoke more for my own benefit than for anyone else’s. They could handle their grief in their time. Even with the systems in place to keep a player respawning, death was still incredibly inconvenient, painful, and a huge waste of productivity.
“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t need to suffer like that.” Garret cracked the knuckles of his hands. “What killed him?” He looked to me, fire in his eyes.
“Do not know, he discarded dart after was struck. I assumed was simply poison trap. Vlad was mistaken.” I shrugged.
“That stupid trap I missed? Damn, dude. That means his death is my fault.” Ken rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, then ran his hand through his hair, finishing the motion by covering his face.
“No, is no fault. Bad things happen. Cannot control entire world. Friend once said, control is illusion. Just when feel we have control, everything goes bad.” I was tempted to touch the key hanging around my neck but chose better. I didn’t have time to be dumped back into the In-Between.
“Wait, shut up.” Garret’s hand went up in the air like a rocket. “Hear that?” He turned in a slow circle, his eyes narrowed, focused.
There was a sound beginning to build around us, a groaning or a moaning.
“What is that?” Ken had his daggers out in his hands with a single fluid motion.
“Sound like zombie,” I whispered as I pulled Gamma from my back.
Give, Take, Steal
BURN THEM ALIVE. Gamma’s voice pierced through my mind like a dart shot through gelatin. I felt it more than heard it.
The ground shook and cracked, the groaning and moaning growing louder with each passing second. First, hands pulled their way out of the ground, followed by bodies.
Grotesque, rotting, broken, shattered bodies that had no right to still be animated. They clambered over one another, dredging themselves from the depths of the dirt. It was as if the entire tunnel system was one great burial ground.
“Start killing. Again. Start killing again. Because they’re zombies and already dead? So you have to kill—you know what, never mind. Bad joke.” Ken’s terrible joke gave rise to a terrible groan from all of the zombies at once.
“Can’t even make zombies laugh.” Garret raised his greataxe in the air and brought it down hard, cutting a zombie in half vertically.
The two portions of rotting flesh collapsed to the floor, their rotting innards spilling out like a smashed sausage.
“More, more, more!” Garret flew into a rage, his axe flying through the horde of undead creatures like a whirlwind of doom. He lopped heads and dismembered limbs. Zombies fell by the dozen. Ken phased in and out of sight, slamming daggers into the back of skulls, severing spines and brain stems.
A zombie landed on me. I used its momentum to shove it to the side. It groaned as it fell, rolling limply across the floor.
I aimed Gamma at the downed zombie and fired a pair of bolts off, both slamming into its skull. They disintegrated the top half of the zombie with their explosive power.
Ken and Garret became overwhelmed, and I needed to do something about it.
I pulled up my Keeper skill tree and made a quick series of selections. I used my choice for Firebrand spells to select Rain of Fire, then put a point into Magical Augmentation, creating a new version of it that would allow me to launch the entire barrage directly toward a group instead of sending it into the air.
I temporarily named the ability Firestorm. I held out my right hand, which started to flick and move about of its own accord. There was a rotation of my wrist, followed by a snapping of my fingers, a series of inter-finger twists, then a splayed palm.
“Down!” I shouted as the spell came to an end.
Countless bolts of flame fired from my hand, small in size but extremely powerful. They shredded the bodies of the zombies, setting fire to some and punching straight through others. My Spirit dropped considerably as the spell continued to tear through the mob, igniting flesh and incinerating rags of clothing as it shredded the mass of undead.
The smell of burning meat filled the tunnel as my spell ended. All that remained was a crowd of immolated undead, some burned completely to ash. I looked down at my hand and closed it into a fist. Magic was truly intense in this world; the rush I had experienced while channeling the ability was nothing short of exhilarating. I would need to be careful in the future.
Power like that could be addictive.
“That was crazy.” Ken pushed up from his prone position on the floor. His mouth was wide as he stared at the carnage I had inflicted.
“How did you learn that spell? You’re not a wizard.” His head turned to me, his eyes narrowed and suspicious.
“Part of Keeper class, can borrow spells. Has downside, ten percent reduction in power. Powerful enough, would seem.” I was tired from using the spell, and my Spirit had been drained considerably, by more than half.
I leaned over and retched, the intense feeling of nausea and sudden fatigue coming from nowhere. There was a debuff in the corner of my vision. It hadn’t popped up like the others. Strange.
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
Magic Sickness (1): You have used a spell that is outside of your natural ability to cast and, as a result, have expended too much of your personal Aether. Perhaps you should be more careful next time? This can be mitigated by improving your Magical Education skill in the Keeper skill tree.
Effect 1: 25% reduced Spirit regeneration, severe nausea, and fatigue. Duration, 5 minutes, 35 seconds.
Effect 2: Unable to cast spells from the [Firebrand] skill tree. Duration, 5 minutes, 35 seconds.
Absolute Power corrupts absolutely, but a little bit of power applied tactically? That corrupts in just the right way...
<<<>>>
The marker next to the debuff was similar to the marker for [Hungry] and [Unwashed], which meant it could stack. That was concerning. Would this happen every single time I used a spell from one of those four classes? Alternatively, I wondered what would happen if I reached maximum stacks.
“Dude, are you okay?” Garret took a step toward me as I felt another intense heaving take control of my body.
“No, am not.” I coughed and choked through the words, my chest feeling like it was burning.
I needed to get past this Magic Sickness debuff if I wanted to use my abilities freely as a Keeper.
“That sucks, man. Do you want to sit down for a bit?” Garret asked.
The intense pain growing in my head began to push my senses to their limits.
A strange shadow sat on the edge of my vision. I remembered it from when I had migraines on Earth, the ones that crippled me for days on end: visual aura, a sign of Status Migrainosus.
“Need to find place to rest. Is getting late, head is pounding, brain is breaking.” I fought to straighten up, the pain in my skull threatening to throw me to the floor. “And need to find way to circumvent debuff.”
Garret supported me under one shoulder while Ken scouted ahead. We didn’t bother to loot the bodies of those we slew. I was more concerned about blacking out than the measly amount of gold and equipment we might find.
“My dudes, I’ve got good news.” Ken’s whisper came from right next to my face.
I shook my head, which was a mistake, trying to get my eyes open. The sound of his voice in the echoing cavern and the light from opening my eyes stung the inside of my brain like a hot iron. A wave of nausea washed over me, but I managed to hold it back.
“And?” Garret sounded annoyed. He tapped his foot impatiently on the hard stone ground, eliciting a steady metallic tinking.
“Oh, yeah, sorr
y. There’s a room up ahead. Looks like an old camp stop.” Ken’s Stealth faded as he stood up next to us. He held an apple in one hand and took a crunchy bite from it. “Ound dis oo,” he said through a mouthful of what smelled like the most delicious apple in the world.
“We don’t speak Mouthful, moron.” Garret sighed heavily as he leaned me against a wall.
I was grateful that we had stopped moving. My brain was starting to feel less like an insane pressure cooker and more like an actual brain. My Magical Sickness debuff had worn off over ten minutes ago, but I was still fighting the intensity of a crippling migraine.
“Thowwy.” Ken chewed hastily, then swallowed. “I found food, tons of it. It’s all still fresh, which is weird, right? None of it appears to be poisoned, either.” He pulled a small handful of berries from his pocket and shoved them into his mouth.
He grinned at us with berry-stained teeth as he chewed.
“That’s gross, bro. No wonder the ladies avoid you.” Garret painted a smug look on his face.
“I am the ladies’ master, bro. Not my fault you can’t be as popular as I am.” Ken shrugged then took another bite of apple.
The smell, which moments before was heavenly, now threatened to turn my stomach in knots.
“Need to be resting.” I struggled to get the words out. They seemed thick, and my tongue felt like it was frozen.
I grimaced as I straightened up, pushing myself off of the wall Garret had leaned me against.
“How far is room?” I squinted, pulling the cowl of my robe down over my face so I could see farther into the tunnel. With my enhanced vision, it looked to have no end.
“About forty yards. Won’t take long.” Ken did a quick about-face, then sauntered down the hallway.
“Alright boss, let’s get you a place to rest.” Garret worked his way underneath my arm, using his shoulder to support more than half of my weight.
Had I been completely unconscious, I imagine that he would have carried me without too much effort.