Sergeant Marko came up from behind and struck the vampire with an overhand blow of his glaive, the heavy blade chopping into her neck with a sickening crunching sound.
The monster fell to her hands and knees, her head barely attached to her body, and fell still a moment later. A loot bag appeared over her head.
For Slaying your foe, you have earned 80 XP. Current XP/Next Level: 200/1,000
“Gods damn ye,” the guardsman said to the still form of the vampire as it turned into dust.
Hawke stood up and picked up his sword; his healing aura had undone the damage to his wrist already. Marko leaned on his glaive and breathed heavily. The guard’s Health was down by almost half, mostly from having the vampire drop on him from the second floor; Hawke healed his injuries, earning a grateful smile from the man.
“You are a true Paladin, Ohio Hawke.”
“Hawke will do, Sergeant.”
“Hawke it is, then.”
Congratulations! You have gained +128 Reputation (Base 80, +60% Charisma bonus) with Guard Sergeant Marko Clades. Current Reputation: +108 (Friendly)
“Looks like I’m going need to get more string to peace-bond my sword,” he told the guardsman.
“Never mind that. Anyone who helps us can wield their weapons as they wish. I’ll let the Guard Captain know you’re all right and better than all right. Unlike some of us.”
Marko spat on the ground before continuing.
“You did far better than the cur dogs that ran away, that is certain. I’ll be having a word about them as well. Gods be my witnesses, those cowards will rue the day their mothers crapped them out of their wombs!”
“Do you have a lot of Undead incidents?” Hawke asked him as he reached for the loot bag over the vampire and claimed one silver coin. Not bad.
“Not at all. Orom is protected against their kind. Or at least that’s how it used to be. But it’s getting worse, gods curse me if I’m lying. It’s all because…”
Marko paused and pointed an accusing finger towards the mountains to the west. In the dim light from the galaxy overhead, Hawke thought he could see a pale tower nestled against one of the dark peaks.
“Domort,” Hawke said.
The guardsman lowered his voice. “Yes, but be careful saying that name. Nobody loves the death master, but all fear him. And some in town may fear him enough to do his bidding.”
“Who’d serve some guy who’s sending monsters into your town?”
“I see little sense in it, Hawke, but for some reason, those who speak loudest against him have a way of coming to bad ends, while those who counsel caution seem to be blessed with good luck.”
While Marko and Hawke were having their conversation, the crossbow-wielding guard who hadn’t run went into the tailor shop to check on its inhabitants. He came out shaking his head.
“All dead,” the guard said. “Decimo, his wife and his children. And I think the old Undead woman is Ortensa, the shepherd’s wife.”
Hawke lowered his head. He’d seen the dead tailor on the ground floor. Knowing the man’s family had shared his fate hit him hard. These weren’t NPCs who were there only to provide quest fodder. They were people, and he hadn’t gotten there in time to help them.
“Where is the Priest?” Marko wondered. “The dead must be consecrated to ensure they themselves don’t rise from their graves, hungering for blood.”
“Patro’s probably dead drunk,” the crossbowman said. “Or too scared to leave the temple at night. We won’t see him till morning, I’d wager. Or even midmorning if he’s sleeping it off.”
Marko spat again. “We will cover the bodies and leave them for Digger Julio to tend to in the morning.” He turned to Hawke. “Perhaps you would care to say a word over them in the name of the gods?”
“Yes, of course.”
They went into the tailor’s shop and gathered all the dead, placing their bodies on the ground floor. It was a sad and disgusting chore, the kind of thing that didn’t come up in the games he played, and another reminder that in this world death was real. For those folks, it had been a brutal and undignified end. Hawke felt sickened and near tears by the time the five forms – two of them heartbreakingly small – were laid on the ground and mercifully covered under sheets of fabric taken from the shop’s goods. Marko and the other guard turned to him expectantly.
Not knowing what else to do, he said some half-remembered prayers from Sunday school. As he mouthed the words, though, he felt a warm glow flowing from him and onto the bodies, similar to the healing energies that had coursed through him when he used his Light spells. Even though he wasn’t praying to Lumina, he somehow knew that the goddess approved of his faith. He had never been religious back on Earth, but he was certain that whatever the ‘gods’ of the Realms were, they weren’t equivalent to the Creator of all things. More like powerful aliens that demanded validation from people, he figured.
Hawke wasn’t sure what the sword meant, but he figured it could wait. In any case, the covered bodies glowed for several seconds and he felt certain they wouldn’t become Undead. The two guards bowed to him and muttered prayers of thanks to the gods.
“Well done, Paladin,” Marko said.
You have gained +80 Reputation (50 Base, +60% Charisma Bonus) with Guard Sergeant Marko Primes. Current Reputation: 188 (Friendly).
Hawke wasn’t sure how Reputation worked in this world. He wasn’t dealing with preprogrammed NPCs, after all, but people who would have complex motivations and emotions. But he figured being ‘respected’ was better than nothing and might come in handy down the line. Since he now lived in a world where vampires walked the earth and he had a Necromancer to kill, he would need all the help he could get.
“Well, I’m going back to bed,” he told the guards. “Unless you need anything else.”
“No, I think you have done more than anyone could expect, Paladin,” Marko said. “I will notify the Prefect of your deeds in the morning. Until then, may the gods grant you a good night.”
Hawke made his way to the inn, where he discovered that Dorrham had been waiting up. The Dwarf welcomed him back, heard Hawke’s brief recounting of what happened, and praised him to the gods before asking to speak with him in the morning. Not surprisingly, he gained +100 Reputation with the dwarf. He was making friends and influencing people.
As he went upstairs, he discovered Alba standing there, holding her lamp. She had been listening in to the conversation. She didn’t say anything, just reached out with her free hand. He took it and drew her to him. He hadn’t known how badly he needed to be with someone until he kissed her and they went into the room together. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear, the only words she said to him that night.
Sleep came easy and was dreamless afterwards, despite his worries for the days ahead.
Nineteen
Alba wasn’t there when he woke up. Hawke found her working in the tavern when he came down. She smiled warmly at him but didn’t bring up the previous night. His choices for breakfast were porridge with mixed-in nuts and raisins or leftover pizza. He was pizza’d out so he chose the former. It wasn’t bad.
Dorrham came over and sat by him with his own breakfast bowl. Hawke asked the innkeeper about the source of the ‘peet-shah.’
“It’s a dish from the city of Alpinia, a month’s travel west from here,” Dorrham told him. “Someone there started baking flattened dough and putting cheese and a sauce made of tomatoes and spices on it. That was fifteen, no, twenty years ago. I had retired from the Mordenhen Legion, the first time I had a slice of peet-shah. I was an enterprising sort, so I made some inquiries and eventually bought the recipe from the taverner who’d served it. When I set up here, I built an oven and started offering it. Best investment I ever made.”
> Twenty years ago, someone from Hawke’s world had introduced pizza to the local diet. That meant he and his fellow gamers weren’t the first people to have been recently abducted to this planet. The locals spoke a form of Latin, so they came from Earth too, but from a long time ago. Hawke wondered about the Dwarf and the other nonhumans in the Realms – including, come to think of, himself, being a Half-Elf and all. Did those species come from another world or were they just humans who had been mutated through magic or super-science? He shrugged away that question. There were plenty more important things to worry about.
“You mentioned you could use my help,” he told Dorrham. “Your shield saved my life, by the way, so I owe you even more than I did when you lent it to me.”
“Glad my legionnaire’s board was of use, Paladin. And if yer willing to help, gods bless ye for it.”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice until it was little more than a whisper.
“I can tell ye will be a man of influence. Mayhap ye can speak to Prefect Felix on my behalf.”
The Dwarf paused for a second, making sure nobody was paying attention to their conversation, before continuing. “This town used to extract gold from several mountain mines, and even from the river Auric itself. The Spider-Folk drove the miners off, however, and now they serve the one we dare not name.”
“Yeah, I know about them. And him.”
“Well, I’m too old to do much fighting, but I have relatives in Akila, a city to the east. Fellow Sterns, stout Adventurers like I used to be. With the Prefect’s blessing, I can bring a handful of Dwarven Adventurers here, ready to help clear the mountains of the fell Arachnoids and reopen the mines. Mayhap even to help deal with their lord and master himself.”
“But the Prefect isn’t giving his blessing?”
“Nay, he is not. And my cousins will not come if they are not welcome; we Sterns are a lawful lot. But seeing as ye are a blessed Paladin, one who isn’t afraid to battle vampires in the dead of night, it might be he will listen to ye.”
Having a party of Adventurers along to help him deal with his Necromancer problem sounded like a godsend to Hawke. He didn’t think the Prefect was going to be open to the idea, however.
“I will speak to the Prefect, Dorrhem. I don’t know if he’ll listen to me, though.”
“One hears many things, tending bar,” the Dwarf said, nodding. “Some of them are about Felix, and they aren’t good things, not good at all. Mayhap he is not fit to be Prefect of this town.”
“I don’t know about that,” Hawke said. “I just got here.”
Dorrhem shook his head. “I must be daft, saying these things. Forget I said anything, I beg of ye.”
“It’s all right. Tell you what, I’ll do whatever I can to help your relatives come here and clear the mines. I have to see Patros first, though, and also do something about the vampires infesting the town.”
“That is as much as I could hope for,” the Dwarf said, returning to the bar and leaving Hawke to his breakfast. His Reputation with the innkeeper went up to 260 (Trusted).
Quest Accepted: Secure the Old Mines
Some decades ago, Orom was a thriving mining town, but the Arachnoids have taken over the old tunnels and driven everyone else away. Dorrham has offered the services of a team of Dwarven Adventurers to clear the mines and, if possible, confront the Necromancer who rules the Arachnoids. He has asked you to speak to the Town Prefect and secure his permission to bring them here.
Rewards: 100 XP. +100 Reputation with Dorrham, +50 Reputation with Clan Stern.
Penalties for Failure: -50 XP. -25 Reputation loss with Dorrham.
Hawke wondered if there was a limit to how many quests he could have at a time. He had to start clearing them off. Maybe after seeing Patro, he would look into speaking with the Prefect. He might even talk the Priest into joining in.
Just before he finished breakfast, he received a new prompt:
You have gained +50 Reputation with every guard in Orom (Charisma bonuses don’t apply to non-personal interactions).
Marko must have told everyone about last night’s events. That was good. The next message wasn’t:
You have gained -500 Reputation with Prefect Felix. Current Reputation: -500 (Hostile).
What the hell? Hawke wondered before he remembered people were saying the Prefect was against any attempts to confront the Necromancer. He must really want to avoid annoying Domort. Or maybe the reason was something more sinister.
If this was a game, I’d walk over to Felix’s office and chop off his head. Easier than figuring out what his deal is.
A couple of times, his player characters had ended up depopulating entire towns after picking a fight with some of its citizens. These were people, not animated pixels, however. He had fought besides Sergeant Marko; Hawke didn’t want to hurt him. He’d have to be careful and use his head.
Well, seeing the Prefect right now isn’t a good idea.
Thanks for reminding me.
“Do you know of a brother and sister by the names of Tava and Gosto?” he asked the innkeeper after he was done with breakfast.
“Kinto’s children? Yes, I know of them. Their father is a former Adventurer, and they take after him. They live outside the town walls, in a hunting lodge by the hills to the northeast.”
Hawke thought about seeing the siblings before meeting with the Priest, but the idea of leaving the town felt downright unappetizing. He admitted to himself that he was a little worried to go back out there; the memories of his encounter with the Dire Bear were still vivid in his mind.
You’re going to have to go into the woods sooner or later, he told himself. Being scared was okay, but letting fear affect his actions wasn’t. His father and older brother were veterans; they’d drilled that lesson into his head. But I guess it can wait until after I see the Priest.
The Temple of Shining Father was easy enough to spot, having a small hill of its own in the southern part of town. Its burnished bronze dome shone brightly in the morning sunlight. It was a brick building, unlike most others in the town, and its façade was painted to look like marble. The entrance to the temple was flanked by four wooden columns, also painted, supporting a triangular structure over the doorway. The triangle was decorated with a carved relief of a bearded robed man with a lightning bolt in one hand and a glowing star on the other. Hawke figured he was some version of Zeus or Jupiter. The bearded man looked stern, almost angry; the carving wasn’t high-quality but the maker had managed to capture the attitude very well.
He doesn’t look like a dude I want to run into.
Hawke wondered if he’d ever be left alone with his thoughts as he stepped past the open double doors of the temple. The inside looked nothing like the churches he’d grown up with: there were no pews, or seats of any kind, just an open space with a statue of Shining Father on a pedestal near the far side of the room from the entrance. Like the carving over the doors, the statue was painted in bright colors: purple with gold trimming for the robes, pink for the skin, gray for his hair and beard. The statue looked stiffer and less detailed than the ones Hawke remembered from pictures about Greek and Roman art he’d seen in high school, but there was something about it that made him feel on edge. It was almost as if the statues’ eyes were glaring at him.
Feeling like he’d been insulted again, Hawke saw Patros; the Priest had heard him enter and used a small door hidden behind the statue to come into the main room. He was wearing a simple robe rather than the blue outfit and hat from the day before. He also hadn’t bothered to shave that morning; his disheveled, bleary-eyed appearance suggested that the angry guardsman had been right and the holy man had been drinking when the vampires murdered the tailor and his family.
“Paladin Hawke of Ohio,” the priest said. “Welcome to the House of Dyut Patir, Shining Father in the common tongue.”
“Thank you, Holy Priest,” Hawke said. He’d been about to call the guy ‘father’ but his character’s Lore skill stopped him. Apparently, using that title was considered insulting around those parts. Almost like claiming the Priest was Hawke’s deadbeat dad.
“As you may have heard already, there are Undead prowling within our walls,” Patros said, getting down to business.
“Yes. I helped kill a few of them last night,” Hawke said. “I consecrated the bodies of their victims afterwards.” He recounted the events of the previous night, leaving out the guardsmen’s insulting comments.
“Oh, bless you! I was… indisposed and nobody bothered to tell me the news this morning.”
You have gained +160 (Base 100, +60% Charisma bonus) Reputation with Patros the Priest.
“What can I do to help?” Hawke asked.
“I believe I know the source of the infestation.”
“You mean…?” Hawke pointed towards the Sunset Range to avoid saying the Necromancer’s name.
Patros made a gesture with his hand, almost like he was drawing a staircase with his hand; Hawke realized the gesture was meant to mimic a lightning bolt.
“Shining Father protect us, no! Or rather, not him, not directly, at least. The lord of the dead is dark and evil, but his power does not reach this land. Not yet, at least. Although I fear he helped stir up this trouble.”
Twilight Templar (The Eternal Journey Book 1) Page 11