Crimson Sands

by J. Arthur Klein

  I nodded and she gestured towards the back, hopping down from the counter. “Come with me. I’m apprentice merchant Violet Rimmsford, and I'm the gatekeeper today.”

  She led me to a large trap door in the back room, a solid oak bar securing it from this side.

  “When you’re done, knock on the door like this,” she said, and rapped out a simple beat on a nearby wall. “Anything other than that and the door stays closed. One gold for each trog crest you bring back, understood?”

  “Yes. What can you-” I began but she cut me off.

  “Not my job, I’m just the doorkeeper, if you want answers you’ll have to talk to my father, who's not here today.”

  “Fine,” I said, ready to be done with her already.

  She pulled a small ceramic vial from her pocket, pulled the bar back from the door and lifted it open, ready to chuck her vial at anything below. Seeing no enemies, she tucked the vial back in her pouch and gestured towards the dark stone staircase.

  The door slammed behind me almost as soon as I’d taken the first step, forcing me to duck to avoid getting brained.

  I glared back at the door. A certain apprentice needed some people skills. Plotting a way to teach Ms. Rimmsford a lesson without getting myself into any trouble, I continued down the stairs into the sewers, blinking at the smell of…well, sewer, washed over me.

  My enhanced vision easily pierced the darkness ahead, revealing a solid stone tunnel. The tunnel continued forward for a short distance and then took a ninety degree turn to the right.

  The entire place was filled with the very faint sound of water trickling in from the city above.

  I stepped carefully, not wanting to slip and fall on the dank stone as I followed the tunnel until it opened up into a small room.

  The stench of rotten meat filled the area and I almost added my stomach’s contents to the piles of broken open crates filled with rotting food.

  The sewer seemed like a pretty stupid place to store food, but then again, medieval societies weren’t very widely known to have a lot of bacterial awareness.

  The room had likely been an extra storeroom of some sort before the trogs had come calling.

  Other than the rotting goods, the room was lacking anything of interest. A door on the other side of the room opened into another hallway that continued deeper into the sewer.

  As I entered the hallway, a sound from further ahead caught my attention. I paused and tried to filter through the ambient noise.

  ***Perception check successful! ***

  There it was, the faint sound of something metal dragging against stone.

  Moving forward slowly, I arrived at a turn in the tunnel and peeked around the bend.

  Crouching in the darkness ahead was a pair of trogs. One of the creatures had a large billhook dangling from a rope around its shoulder, and as it raised some sort of animal corpse to its toothy mouth, the rusted hook scraped along the ground.

  Trogs were a strange amalgamation of fish, frog, and man. Standing taller than the average human, they had slimy greyish green skin that glistened wetly, and their faces were split by wide, fang filled maws.

  Atop each of their heads was a trio of crests composed of long boney spines with a thin fleshy membrane stretched between them.

  *** Trog Scavenger, Level 5 ***

  *** HP:100%, SP:100% ***

  *** Trog Scavenger, Level 5 ***

  *** HP:100%, SP:100% ***

  I started to back away and the butt of my spear tapped against the wall making a soft thump, barely audible to me, but apparently clear as day to the trogs.

  Their crests flared and their heads turned towards me, their white milky eyes wide.

  Leaping forward on its froglike legs, the lead trog flew in my direction, its clawed hand swiping past where my head had been seconds before. Holy shit those things were fast. The trog's leap had covered almost twenty feet in an instant.

  Stepping back around the corner I raised my shield just in time to block another swipe and cringed at the sound of its claws raking against metal.

  I stepped back again and stabbed with my spear, but it had already danced back out of range. The second trog came around the corner with its billhook in the lead.

  I yanked my spear back and raised my shield, but instead of a full blown strike the weapon hooked the top of my shield and drew it down, leaving an opening for the creature’s follow up attack.

  Lunging over my shield the trog bit down on my shoulder, its needlelike teeth easily tearing through my armor and the flesh beneath.

  I screamed in pain and jammed my shield up into the creature’s throat, forcing it to release its bite and knocking it off of me. That one blow had dropped my health to sixty percent. These bastards were vicious.

  The trogs moved back, each taking position to one side of the hallway, their crests periodically vibrating with some sort of ultrasonic communication.

  I readied my spear and began to focus on their movements, trying to adjust to their speed while preparing a counterattack.

  If I hadn’t been paying such close attention, I would have missed it, but Mr. Billhook’s foot shifted slightly right before it leapt towards again, trying for a second nibble.

  Instead of a tasty bellyful of me-flesh, it got a bellyful of steel as my spear slid through its scaley flesh and into its abdomen.

  The bleeding icon blinked into being next to the trog’s health bar which dropped all the way to twenty percent and then continued to empty as the creature fell to the ground, leaking onto the floor.

  Judging from the damage the one blow had done I was pretty sure that these guys were glass cannons. They were insanely fast and could rip you to shreds if given the chance but if you could hit them they folded like a wet paper bag.

  I twisted my spear as I yanked it from the downed trog while my shield deflected a flurry of blows from the second creature.

  As one of its claws scraped harmlessly down my shield a new icon appeared in the corner of my vision indicating my new increased critical boon had been triggered.

  The creature was too close to bring my spear to bear so I shrugged and slammed my shield into its face. The force of the blow burst one of the trog's milky eyes as the embossed jackal caved in part of its skull with a critical hit, ending it.

  A sharp pain in my leg brought my attention back to the other trog who was barely clinging to life. Its billhook forgotten, the creature had latched on to my leg with its mouth, driven by some mad compulsion to do as much damage as possible before it succumbed to its wounds.

  It shook its head from side to side in a mad frenzy and I cried out in agony as its teeth riped deeply into my thigh. My hit points dropped to thirty percent and I got a bleeding icon of my own.

  I slammed the edge of my shield down on the top of the trog's head and it fell to the ground, joining its friend in the corpse club.

  I stabbed the damn thing through the face just to make sure it was dead, and then collapsed to my knees as the adrenaline wore off and the full brunt of my pain came crashing in.

  I fought through the pain and cast Soothing Touch until the bleeding stopped and then switched to Cure Wounds to work on ranking up that spell.

  At first rank each casting only raised my hit points by ten percent which made leveling it even more important, especially if I was going to depend on it to keep up with Amenhotep's massive health pool.

  Repeating the spell, I healed myself to full, by which point the spell was just shy of rank two.

  I let my mana regen and then looted the trogs. Each had a single “Trog Crest” and a few silver coins.

  Past the corpses, the tunnel continued onwards with a single side passage leading off to the right.

  The current tunnel seemed to open up into a room further on. Looking at my map, which was being filled in like an old school RPG with dungeon fog, I could see that the path to the right seemed to go further into the unknown while the room ahead seemed to double back somewhat.

  Follo
wing my own rules of dungeon exploration I decided on the strait path, wanting to clear out this area before moving any deeper into the zone.

  I moved down the main passage and entered a large room with no other exits. My full examination was cut short by the charge of the room's sole occupant, a beefier looking trog wielding a rusty longsword.

  I dodged to the side, almost tripping as my foot slid in some sewer muck. The trog sailed past me, sliding to base of the wall where it leapt and kicked off, flying back towards me with minimal effort.

  *** Trog Warrior, Level 6 ***

  *** HP:100%, SP:90% ***

  Its sword came in high on a line to split my skull and I raised my shield to intercept. The clang of rusted iron on steel echoed through the room.

  While my shield was raised, the trog’s other hand whipped past my defenses and slashed my shield arm dropping my health slightly.

  While locked in close, I cast a Sunstrike through my shield, blasting the trog off of me and into the wall, but only dropping his health bar by twenty percent.

  The trog hung back, and crouched low to the ground, its milky eyes staring through me as it opened it gullet and began drawing in air.

  I raised my shield, expecting some form of ranged attack but instead, the trog’s throat puffed out like a giant bellows and it began emitting a low, resonating sound that reminded me of a didgeridoo.

  I waited for some sort of effect, or message, or something to appear but nothing happened.

  The warriors throat deflated, but the sound continued… and then I understood.

  The sound wasn’t coming from the trog before me anymore. It was coming from down the hallway, which just happened to be the only way out of this room.

  Im pretty sure that the trog's smile was mocking me at that point, but I didn't have that much time to really think about it before it attacked once again.

  From the tunnel came a horde of trogs of various types and levels, their crests vibrating in sync.

  I held my ground momentarily, thrusting wildly into the press of bodies. I felt a few lucky shots meet trog flesh but before I could offer up more than a token resistance my shield and spear were yanked to the side and the pain began.

  I screamed in agony as I was buried in hungry frogmen, my armor shredded by their teeth and claws right before a large trog sank his teeth into my stomach and ripped, spilling my innards onto the ground where the others began to feast.

  My health hit zero and the pain disappeared as my world went black.

  ...

  Chapter 26

  When consciousness returned, I grasped at my stomach, feeling for the wounds that I expected to be there as I collapsed to the ground, the horror of my last several moments echoing in my brain.

  I curled up into a ball, breathing quickly until the game’s algorithms worked their magic and the mental trauma of being ripped apart began to fade. The memories shifted and somehow morphed into something that no longer seemed…real.

  My breathing slowed and I regained my feet, brushing off the crimson sand clinging to my shredded clothing. I’d skipped over the afterlife’s TSA checkpoint courtesy of my “Child of the Underworld” skill and now stood under the clear starscape of the Saa underworld.

  Accessing the other half of that skill, I pictured the Gates of Death in my mind and willed myself to travel there.

  My spectral body was filled with a strange sensation as it dissolved into a small pile of sand and reformed at my destination, the swirling gate visible not five feet ahead.

  When I attempted to step through the gate I found my way barred by an invisible barrier, and a countdown timer appeared above the gate with just around thirteen minutes remaining. I was still restricted by the normal respawn timer, but at least I no longer had to spend my time walking.

  I teleported to the entryway of the Temple of the Restless Dead and looked around.

  The temple was still mostly buried in the sand and I wondered if anyone else had discovered it yet. I hadn’t included it in any of my videos since the underworld was off limits at this point for recording.

  It would be nice to have some allies in the days ahead working towards the same goals as I was, but I liked the feeling of having something that was my own, special thing.

  I moved into the temple and saw that there had been some changes. The sand that had previously obscured most of the inscriptions had receded, and the gold and bronze inlays had more of a shine to them.

  Deciding to pay my respects, I knelt before the altar and drew a blank when I tried to think of what I should say.

  “How is the investigation going, Acolyte?” Anpu asked from behind me, saving me from my derp moment.

  I turned and redirected my bow to the god himself. “I have a potential lead on undead activity in the city which I hope will lead me to the necromancer’s location, or at least the opportunity to free more souls.”

  He nodded and waved me to my feet. “The more time that passes, the more entrenched the dark forces can become, so do not dawdle,” he said and then walked around the altar.

  “Amenhotep has informed me of your encounter with the ghouls on the road and many were able to pass through my halls due to your efforts."

  I nodded. “The necromancer responsible is called UrNewMasta. I took him down, but he's likely back in the land of the living by now causing even more trouble”

  “UrNewMasta… what strange names your kind has," Anpu responded. "His name has been added to the list of the damned, and should he come within reach of my servants… let’s just say his time will not be pleasant. I cannot keep him here for long, but I can make his time... memorable.”

  His gaze focused in on me once more and I felt him looking deep into my digital soul as he examined me on what seemed like an atomic level. “I see you have improved your skills since your first time here, but still have much to learn. When you are strong enough to face the challenge I have set for you, return and I will be able to teach you more. Is there anything that I can do for you while you are here now?”

  “Thank you, my Lord. If I may ask, I have been questioned as to my lack of a stole denoting my rank. Where might I acquire one appropriate to this Temple?” I said tentatively. I could always have a tailor make one, but I wasn’t quite sure exactly what to ask for.

  “You mortals and your material symbols,” he sighed. “I guess it is only fitting that since you are the first Acolyte this temple has had in centuries you should be adorned as such.”

  He walked over to one of the statues flanking the altar and reached out to touch the carving of what I could now see was a stole that hung around its neck. When the god’s hand touched the stone garment it instantly transformed into a length of jet-black cloth.

  Anpu slid the stole from statue's shoulders, glancing at the end which was adorned by three golden bands.

  He waived his hand over the garment and two of the bands disappeared, leaving only the single band of an Acolyte. “This stole was once worn by Akutokomun, one of the founders of this temple. He was a Saa of uncommon valor and honor. Do not dishonor his memory by being less,” he said, holding out the stole.

  I bowed as he placed the length of black silk in my hands, deeply honored by his gift. “I will make you both proud,” I said, reverently draping the stole over my ghostly shoulders.

  *** Stole of Akutokomun is now Soulbound! ***

  “Now go,” he said. “I hope next time we speak you will have cleansed Sehkem of the growing darkness,” and then vanished.

  The respawn timer still had a few more minutes left so I decided to see what my new stole was capable of. A quick scan brought up its description.

  Stole of Akutokomun – Unique -- The stole of one of the founders of the Temple of the Restless Dead, Hierophant Akutokomun the Mourning Flame. Blessed by the god of the underworld and bestowed upon you, this item will grow in power as you do.

  Current Effects (lvl7): +5% Divine Magic Skills, +5% Resistance to Disease and Necromancy, On Use (1x a day)
– Shield of Faith: The wearer is surrounded by a shield of divine light, granting temporary invulnerability vs hostile attack. In addition, the shield will deal damage to any undead who touch it. (Soulbound)

  Color me impressed. Scaling items usually came in two flavors in MMO games: Meh and OP.

  From the abilities already present in the item, I suspected this was one of the latter. With buffs to my casting skills and a defense bonus vs the tools of my arch-enemies I would probably never have to replace it.

  It did come with the downside of advertising my priestly status to the masses, but hopefully after the changes with this latest patch it wouldn’t be that much of a nightmare... and maybe save me from getting shanked by any random Saa thugs.

  All in all, my gruesome death at the hands of the frog people did have at least one beneficial outcome.

  With that positive outlook in mind, I teleported back to the Gates of Death and waited until my timer was up.

  ...

  Chapter 27

  I materialized on my bed, clothed in the tattered remains of my armor with my spear and shield clenched in my fists.

  I sat up slowly and reached up to make sure that the stole had made the trip back with me from the underworld. Feeling the smooth silk fabric draped over my shoulders, I let out a sigh of relief.

  Looking down I could see that my armor was well and truly ruined, the once protective pieces of hardened leather now resembled nothing more than strips of blood soaked jerky.

  I took it off and threw the remains into a sack, hoping I might be able to salvage some buckles or something from its remains.

  Having no armor at all meant the trogs would have to go on the back burner for now, and the undead were way out of the question. I checked my messages and my friends list and there was nothing from Kjara, so I had no pressing needs other than reequipping myself.

  Luckily the game did me a solid and provided a new set of basic starter cloths with my new body, saving me from the awkwardness of walking through the city in my underoos.