by C. M. Carney
“Ye will have tae forgive me laddie if I disagree with that assessment. If the Prime ever discover the soul exists, they will stop at nothing to take it.”
“Then we ensure that they never do,” Gryph said. Grimliir nodded.
“Where is it now?” Ovrym asked.
“Safe,” Grimliir said, staring at the xydai. “And I will keep it that way.”
For several heartbeats Gryph thought Ovrym would force the issue, demand the soul, but the xydai understood the danger of knowing more than any of them. Gryph hoped none of them would ever face the Prime again, but if they did, knowing where the soul was would make them an irresistible target to the mind reading aetherial daemons.
“I will trust you as Gryph does,” Ovrym said with a slight bow of his head.
“I will die before breaking that trust adjudicator,” the Thalmiir said, also bowing his head.
“I vote that nobody dies,” Lex said, hand raised like a kid in a classroom. “Especially me and …” Lex’s face screwed up as he tried to stop the words from coming.
“Gryph,” Vonn suggested.
“I must protect Gryph,” Lex spat. “Aaagghhh. If we ever find Sean I’m gonna … write him a strongly worded letter.“
“That’ll definitely show him.” Vonn smirked.
Lex swung a meaty fist, but the half elf easily dodged. As childish as the exchange may have been, it diffused the tension and low chuckles flowed through the room as everyone but Errat laughed and smiled.
Grimliir saw the dour expression on Errat’s face. “What is it son?”
“Errat does not understand how he lives, or why?”
“That is a tale of my own weakness son,” Grimliir said, hanging his head. The others wanted me tae destroy this body, fearing that it would be an anchor tae the Prime soul if it ever escaped its prison. But I refused, and in secret I seeded the body with another soul, yer soul.” A look of guilt and pain wracked Grimliir and Errat pulled the stout man into an embrace.
“My soul? Who was I father?”
The ancient Thalmiir turned his gaze upwards, smiling at the giant man shaped automaton. “The soul of my son.”
Errat’s mouth hung open mirroring the shock felt by the others. Grimliir lowered his head, his shoulders shaking. Errat paused for the briefest of moments before kneeling down and embracing his father.
“Do not be sad, father. You saved me.”
“I imprisoned ye. Trapped ye in this body, because I was selfish, because I could not bear tae live without ye. Errat, yer soul could have returned tae the Great Forge, been reborn and lived a dozen lives, mothered and fathered children. But, I robbed ye of that. I thought only of myself and my pain. I failed ye my son. I trapped ye for thousands of years in this dead city, awake, alone. I should have found ye when the city fell. It should have been ye in my stasis chamber.”
“No. Then you would be dead, and I would have no father.” Errat pulled the older dwarf’s head into his shoulder.
Grimliir’s weeping grew louder and first Gryph and then the others all leaned in to place a hand on the elder dwarf. Soon Grimliir calmed, and he looked up at Errat. “Ye be a far better son than I deserve. I promise ye that I’ll work tae the bone tae prove myself worthy of ye.”
“You already have father.”
Grimliir wept silently for a few moments before wiping his eyes. A rumbling laugh built inside him and he looked up at the others. He found no judgement in their eyes, only sympathy and support. He met Gryph’s gaze. “Some Steward I’ve turned out tae be, all a weepin’ and blubberin’.”
Gryph smiled and squeezed the rugged dwarf’s shoulder. “I would have it no other way. I need people who are true to themselves, who allow themselves to feel fear, anger, love and joy. Do not change your ways Grimliir, son of Braigmond. They are a strength, not a weakness.” Gryph looked around at the others. “That goes for all of you.”
“In that case, I have something I want to get off my chest,” Lex began.
Gryph and the others looked at the NPC in apprehension, wondering just what kind of idiocy was about to pour from his mouth. Lex inhaled and then spoke.
“We’re all weirdos and outcasts, but if I am gonna die at the hands of a murderous god, then there’s no bunch of weirdos I’d rather die with.” Lex stopped and silence hung heavy at his words. Lex rubbed his hand against his nose, like a nervous child. “And that’s all I gotta say about that.”
The group stood in silence, some nodding, some smiling, all feeling the heavy blanket of their emotions. Finally, an unexpected chortle of laughter from Ovrym broke the tension. “You are one strange man Lex, but I think I’m starting to like you.”
“I grow on people.”
“Like an untreated fungal infection,” Vonn said, leaning back in his chair.
Gryph stood and smiled at the rest of the group. “I think it is time to call it a night. Go, rest up, prepare yourselves in whatever way you need. Tomorrow we take the fight to a god.” Heads nodded, hands clapped shoulders, and the group parted ways, in groups and solo.
“Lex, let’s grab some food. I need your advice on how to spend my Perk Points.”
“Oh man, dinner and shopping. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
Several hours later, Gryph’s belly was full and his Perk Point total was lighter. But Lex had proved his worth and Gryph had several new perks and sub-skills to show off.
He’d dumped two points into the first two tiers of the Analyze perks Skill Reduction, giving him the ability to counteract 50% of the effectiveness of any one of his opponent’s skills.
“Trust me guy. That one is huge. I’d have died a shit ton more had I not counteracted 50% of the Agent’s attacks. But make sure you choose wisely, cuz you can only choose one skill per encounter.”
Lex also convinced him he needed to up his raw offensive power. He opened his Staves/Spears perk tree and dumped one point into the next tier of Impale and Parry and bought both tiers of Quick Strike.
Impale: An aggressive attack initiated upon a successful attack. Impale does 2X damage with a spear. Impaled opponents cannot move or counterattack for 5 seconds.
Stun: An aggressive attack with a staff that is initiated upon a successful attack. Stun does 1.5X damage and prevents an opponent from moving or counterattacking for 10 seconds.
Quick Strike: An aggressive attack with a staff or spear initiated upon a successful attack. Quick Strike has the listed percentage chance to land a second attack for the same amount of damage as the first.
Parry: Staves and spears provide good defense. When an attacker lands a blow, Parry blocks the attack resulting in no damage.
Staves/Spears Perk Tree.
Stamina
Tier
Impale
Quick Strike
Parry
30
B
20%
15%
20%
25
A
30%
25%
30%
20
J
40%
35%
40%
15
M
50%
45%
50%
10
GM
60%
55%
60%
0
D
75%
75%
75%
Gryph had visions of exponentially amplifying his powerful spear attacks by using Skill Reduction to counteract an opponent's Armor skill, or even their Dodge. Once again proving, that in the Realms, the intelligent application of power was far more effective than brute force alone.
Continuing his tradition of always having a reserve for emergencies, Gryph kept his last two Perk Points. He suspected sooner rather than later, he’d find a way to spend them.
25
The next morning Gryph formed an Adventure Party with Ovrym, Errat, Vonn and Lex. They were all granted a +25% bonus
to experience and his Boon 1 Telepathic Bond. He had Ovrym cast the spell to add Tifala to the bond and within two minutes he had to yell at Lex. Shut up and keep the channel clear of useless chatter. To prove the point, he switched to verbal communication. “Use the bond only when we need to communicate in silence or over long distances. Understood?”
“But all I know is useless chatter,” Lex whined.
“On this we agree,” Ovrym said, and walked from the Nexus.
The others followed and soon arrived at the nearest Port Circle. The thin circles of metal embedded in the floor were short distance teleporters, another of the crafty Nimmerian high men’s many wonders.
While the high men had jealously guarded the secrets of making Port Gates, they had shared the Port Circles with the other members of the Alliance. This led Grimliir to believe the two transport systems relied upon different technologies. "The Nimmerians built their empire on the back of Port Gates. There be no way in the Abyss they would ever share that knowledge, no matter how secure the Alliance was. Some say they paid for their greed ten-fold when their city fell to ruin."
In a revelation that surprised no one, Grimliir was skilled at maintaining and repairing Port Circles. He'd instructed several other crafters in the art. These crews had worked tirelessly since and nearly the entire network connecting Dar Thoriim and Sylvan Aenor was operational.
“Am I the only one who wants to puke after using these damn things?” Lex asked as the group exited the Port Circle on the Quay in Sylvan Aenor. They’d needed three jumps to get there and Lex was not happy that there was at least that many to reach the Port Gate closest to the Nimmerian ruins.
“Yes, you are,” Ovrym said and Gryph swore he saw a small grin cross the xydai’s face. If Gryph didn’t know better, he’d say Ovrym was enjoying Lex’s torment.
They walked up the main road approaching Aurvendiel. Gryph smiled up at the empyrean tree, pleased to see that small shoots of new growth were pushing through the old bark. He could feel the trees energy flowing over the valley as subtle pulses of empyrean energy warmed his body, a gift from the re-awakened empyrean spirit that inhabited the ancient tree.
Lex stared upwards at Aurvendiel and his mood improved. “That’s a big damn tree.”
They walked in silence until they reached Yrriel’s shop. She’d promised to teach Gryph the skill Imbue in case he found other Port Icons during their travels. He suspected her real motivation was an unwillingness to slot the damaged Icon herself since there was a decent percentage chance it would explode when set.
Yrriel smiled as they walked in and Gryph was sure she winked at Lex. What is that about? Gryph thought, but then his head was in her hands and he felt new knowledge flow into his mind. There were a lot of ways to learn a skill, but the near instant transfer of knowledge that a Master of a skill could accomplish, was by far the quickest. It was almost like downloading a file onto a computer if the file was a focused ability and the computer was one’s brain.
Spells were transferred similarly, but the gifter needed to be at least an Apprentice in the sphere of magic and were limited to two such giftings to any one person until they became Masters at level 75.
In the Barrow, Gryph had acquired a variety of spells from Tifala, Ovrym and even the imp Xeg. At the time he had not known just how rare such a gifting was. Knowledge in the Realms was jealously guarded, for both profit and power.
You have learned the skill IMBUE (ICONS).
Level: 1 - Tier: - Base - Skill Type: Active
You can now make Icons by imbuing gemstones with your own mana to a wide variety of effects. You can also re-charge Icons and are able to slot and remove them.
You have a 2% chance of successfully imbuing an Icon per level.
You can re-charge Icons at a mana cost of 100/charge. This rate is reduced by 1 per level.
You can now slot Icons with a 50% chance of success. This success rate increases by 2% per level. Failed slotting of Icons will result in a mana explosion similar in effect to spell failure feedback.
She spent the next few minutes teaching the others how to Imbue as well, just in case one of them needed to set a Port Icon to return home.
“Thank you Yrriel,” Gryph said sincerely, and she winked at him. “What else do you have for us?”
“A few Health, Mana and Stamina Potions for each of you.” She handed over small parcels containing the bottles and Gryph added it to his satchel where they were auto-sorted into the correct slots.
“These are rad,” Lex said. “Thanks.”
“Yours are on the house,” the spritely older elf said to Lex giving him a once over. “I like my men with meat on their bones. If you live through this, I’ll let you take me on a picnic in the Copse.”
Lex grinned. “I better live through this man,” Lex whispered through the side of his mouth at Gryph.
Gryph tried ignoring him but found himself chuckling lightly. “So ours are not on the house?”
Yrriel turned a level gaze upon him and then smiled. “You’re a rich landowner now, so I’ll add it to your tab.”
“Tab?”
“What did you think, this was some kinda collective?” she asked with another sly grin.
Gryph shook his head, and the group took the nearest Port Circle to the edge of the Green, the wooded area northeast of Sylvan Aenor. There they found Tifala, Grimliir and Gartheniel.
“Did you change your mind?” Gryph asked Tifala, hoping she had but knowing she had not.
“No, but the quickest way to home is through the Barrow, assuming Simon has kept control.”
“That is a big if.” Ovrym placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled.
“Worst case is he sends me back here after I take my frustrations out on some dungeon beasts.” The gnome’s eyes were dark and cold.
Her comments dug at Gryph, but soon he nodded. “It will be good to have you along, for as long as you are with us.”
Gryph turned to the pair of Stewards. Grimliir grabbed him by the forearm and tugged him in close, speaking in a low, gruff voice. “Ye make sure ye come laddie. I want no part in ruling.”
Gryph smiled and nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He turned to the half-elf. “Keep an eye on him for me will you,” and nodded towards the dwarf.
“I will endeavor to comply my Lord, but I suspect I would be no more effective at changing his mind once he’s made it than a baalgrath is at hygiene.”
“Harr!” Grimliir howled. “Good for you I am ancient and wise.”
“We shall see,” Gartheniel said.
Gryph smiled and stood with the others inside the circle of platinum metal. With a nod to the two Stewards he sent a mental command to the circle and reality bent as they ported to the last active circle in the chain. Their destination was inside the impenetrable walls of the Moon Gate, a fortress that guarded the western end of the Serpentine from the wilds of the ancient Nimmerian ruins. Gryph tried to spot the Watchers whose duty it was to guard the fortress, but only spotted a few, those who wanted to be seen. He knew dozens of others lay hidden from his sight, ready to attack anything that threatened their home.
Farrengiir met the group as they walked through the gate. Tifala had tended to the newly minted Captain of the Rangers chaos infection, saving his life.
“Well met my Lord, my Lady,” Farrengiir said, bowing.
“How is the arm?” Tifala asked.
“Stable milady. The infection is still present, but the techniques you taught our healers are keeping it at bay.”
“I am glad,” Tifala said and turned, walking towards the fortress gate. Farrengiir nodded at Gryph and ordered his men to take up flanking positions.
They marched from the fortress and across the wide grassy area. The Port Gate was a few miles through the forest and by the time they'd reached the stone archway the sun was at its zenith. A range of confusing emotions moved through Gryph at the sight. While he knew, in the logical part of his brain, that returning to the Barrow was the right step,
he dreaded returning to the deadly dungeon.
“Keep an eye out for any beasts, chaos infected or otherwise,” Farrengiir’s said in a deep voice. His men took up defensive positions in a wide arc. “Keep a watchful eye for any lutins.” A smirk crossed the ranger captain’s face as Gryph’s gaze snapped up to him with a look that clearly said, ‘You bastard.’
“What’s a lutin?” Lex asked.
“Hair stylists,” Ovrym said dryly.
Low chuckles pulsed through the glade and even Tifala smirked slightly. I’ll take it, even at the cost of some dignity, Gryph thought, but he still gave Ovrym a ‘you’ll pay for that’ look. Gryph walked up to the arch and retrieved the cracked Port Icon from his bag. On instinct the rest of the party backed away, but Gryph snagged Lex by the scruff of his robes before he could retreat.
“Dude, that is uncool,” Lex muttered under his breath.
Gryph patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t think I know what I’m doing?”
“No.”
Gryph grinned and let him go. “Fine, go over there. If I blow up, I’ll see you after I respawn.”
Lex scowled, but stayed where he was. Gryph nodded and looked back at the Port Gate. It was a ten-foot-high arch wide enough to let a large cart through. Ivy and dirt covered the ancient stone, but neither wind nor water had scoured the intricate runes from its surface. Apparently the Nimmerians built to last.