I had only been flying for about twenty minutes when I saw the smoke. A thick column of billowing grey rose into the clear afternoon sky a few miles to the west of my chosen course. My curiosity won out and I changed direction to investigate.
The smoke was coming from the bottom of a rocky ravine, where a crude road ran from north to south. I landed at the top of the eastern ledge and activated my cloak’s camouflage effect.
There sat a burning open wagon with sturdy looking iron clad wheels. Three other similar wagons had escaped the flames and were covered with white canvas. Fifteen dwarves, a few elderly but mostly children based on their size and beardless faces were tied together in a line. The children cowered and cried while the elders held them with grim faces.
There had been at least sixty dwarves originally, and they must have fought bravely based on the state of things. This must be a caravan of traders or maybe refugees. They had been overwhelmed by their attackers. Around fifty humans were searching the prisoners and looting the scattered bodies of the fallen. This scenario might have been none of my business, this was a war zone after all. I was weighing my options when the soldiers made my decision for me.
“Take the ones that can work, kill the rest.” A voice of authority chimed clearly over the miserable prisoners’ wailing and lighthearted chattering of the victors.
I stepped off the ledge, and canceled my camouflage. A quick Area Appraisal had revealed none of these soldiers were a threat, and I decided to not give them a chance to change their mind. I touched down gently behind the apparent man in charge. He was an average height, sturdy fighter in a mix of plate and chainmail armor. He had removed his helm after the fight, revealing a surprisingly youthful face and sandy hair.
“So um, hey there.” I said and cleared my throat. “Got a sec?”
The leader dove forward with commendable agility for a normal human, and turned to face me with his spiked mace at the ready.
“This area is off limits!” He barked at me. “How did you get this far south, are you lost?” He lowered his mace an inch once he noticed I was human, but remained clearly suspicious.
“I noticed the smoke, and decided to check it out.” I answered honestly. “I get why you attacked them, this is a war and bla bla bla whatever. That’s not my business, but the whole killing the ones that won’t make good slaves policy doesn’t fly with me. In other words I have decided to save those dwarves, and I’m sorry but it would be troublesome to let any of you get away.”
“A human would oppose soldiers of the kingdom!?” The young commander balked. “And alone? Die like the pathetic dwarves. Kill him!” I sighed as he gave the predictable order.
“I hope your next lives are long and peaceful.” I raised my voice so the other assembled knights could hear me. “Farewell.”
Three crossbow bolts and two arrows flew toward me. I had all the time in the world to evade, but there was no reason to. Faster than the shooters could follow, five arcane rounds from Huginn and Muninn disintegrated the flimsy projectiles and continued on, obliterating the torsos of the shooters.
To the soldiers, I never even moved. There was simply a flash and a bang before five men exploded into pink mist.
“You don’t get it.” I lamented as they all surged forward, apparently thinking I could be buried with simple numbers.
A spear wrapped in a black shawl replaced Muninn in my hand. This was a perfect opportunity to test something I had been putting off. With a mental command, the shawl unraveled itself revealing rotten wood stained black by the waters of Acheron (at least that’s how the lore described it in game).
This was my weapon of choice, and was responsible for more enemy kills than most of my other weapons combined. It’s name was Charon’s Call, looted from the boatman of the River Acheron in one of the most difficult fights I had ever been through. The base damage the spear could inflict ranked among the strongest in existence, particularly the Soul damage which bypassed all resistances of any being that possessed a soul. That wasn’t why I had learned to lean on Charon’s Call so heavily. It had an ability that I was a little afraid to see in the real world.
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*Equipped: Charon’s Call - Spear
(Item Score 899) Skin: Default
Damage (Physical): 416
Damage (Soul): 280
Indestructible
“And those living souls that would dare parade themselves before the sordid god Charon shall be regarded as the most unfortunate in all of Creation.”
Charon’s Call: Cooldown 23h:59m:59s
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A haunting and beautiful voice rose from somewhere unseen, and black clouds formed rapidly in the blue sky. More melodic voices joined the first, and I could see the soldiers’ arms fall limp at their sides as the first notes drifted to their ears. The sirens’ song was wordless, and carried like an epic choir to the now dark sky where a shape was beginning to emerge.
I had seen a version of this many times, but I was not prepared for what descended from that darkened sky. A skeletal foot the size of a minivan broke through the bottom of the clouds, it was shining and black as though coated in tar. The other foot followed, and the rest of the titanic skeleton that was Charon emerged after that. It was easily fifty meters in height, wearing a long black robe made of the same material as the shawl covering the spear.
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Each of Charon’s six arms held a dark chain which doubled in number and halved in size at each link. The first links were around six meters in diameter with two three meter wide links attached to them and so on, with the last chains being near infinite in number and small enough to be a delicate necklace.
The chains descended, and found my enemies one by one. They were too weak to even resist the Siren’s Song effect which caused a temporary stupor. As the first toothed links cut into flesh, they regained their senses and the screaming started. The countless chains writhed and rubbed, and bit by bit the soldiers were torn apart and consumed. That attack was a trump card against huge crowds, and could even one shot some of the bosses in lower layers. Against the average soldiers of this world, it was a horrific overkill and honestly turned my stomach to watch. The chains turned red as the blood traveled up them, drawn into Charon’s bones by the power of the skill. A very faint glow emitted from the cavernous eye sockets, indicating that the second stage of the ability was ready for use. There were no enemies to unleash it on, and I wasn’t ready to see that particular hell at the moment, so I canceled the skill.
Charon disappeared back into the clouds, and they faded away to reveal the once again clear sky. Something was off. There was no surge of power from Greater Drain like there would normally be. Could the spear’s soul damaging effect be interrupting it? Maybe Charon himself was devouring the souls as part of the summoning effect? I guess thematically that would make sense but that would be a huge letdown. My internal musings were interrupted by a shaking, stuttering voice.
“W-what have I done!?” An elderly dwarven man wearing the brown robes of a friar cried out. He was on his knees, his bound hands were before him clutching a tangled lock of coarse red hair. His cheeks were wet with tears and his eyes were wide with madness and terror. “I prayed on me own dead son’s beard for vengeance. But what fell god has come aswerin’? Suren the world is doomed!”
At his frenzied words, the rest of the dwarves began to further lose their own composure. They shrank away and huddled close, preparing for a terrible death.
“I’m not a god, and I’m not going to destroy the world or hurt you guys. That skill was probably pretty shocking to see for the first time, but I swear you’re safe now.” I said, trying to sound reassuring.
Another elder dwarf further away in line shook his head and coughed. He was the only dwarf not presently climbing the walls of hysteria.
“Ye call it a ‘skill’ do ye? Hammering dents outta me cooking pot’s a skill. Whittling a doll for me granddaughter, that’s a skill. Dragging The One Who Weeps and his banshee brides down from the sky ain’t no damned skill. The old coot priest is right. That’s the power of a god, and a right big shot one at that. So which one are ye?”
“The One Who Weeps?” I echoed curiously. I already liked this crusty, unshakable dwarf.
“The god of grief and vengeance! You enslaved a god and don’t even know its name!?” The dwarf’s face screwed up in disbelief.
“Husband!” An old dwarven woman behind him scolded harshly. “Ye’d blaspheme to his face and get us all killed with ye!?” I noted that her wrinkled and rugged face was beardless with a little relief. I never could quite come to terms with bearded dwarven ladies in fantasy settings.
“My name’s Gray.” I interrupted before any more misunderstandings could pile up. “I’m no god, though I am a champion of Ariel. That big skeleton you saw is called Charon. While he’s extremely powerful, he’s not The One Who Weeps. I can summon him through the use of a unique skill that I possess.” I took a breath to see if I was getting through to them.
Apparently something I said had indeed struck them. They had all managed to shuffle forward and gawk at me in even greater shock than before. Now at least the terror had been replaced by excitement.
“He’s real!” A voice called.
“The Gray is here to save us!” Another echoed.
“The Gray?” I echoed with a groan. “Oh fuck me anything but that.”
The wife of the brash dwarf from earlier stepped forward as much as her ankle bindings would allow and raised her voice.
“Mighty Gray, who cast down a Crusibilis knight and spat in the eye of the Rotted King. We were seeking you out when the humans attacked us.” She was apparently a very respected person because no one made a peep while she was talking. “Grandring’s entrances have been besieged, leaving the surface communities to fend for ourselves with no trade and no food. Our only hope was to the north, where a new country unafraid of the kingdom appeared. We were bringing our best wares in hopes of returning with food for our starving brethren.” She spoke to me with earnest respect.
“The border be thick with cruel men who don’t hesitate to murder and enslave us.” Her husband joined in, spitting on the ground as he mentioned the human soldiers.
I could see where this was going. A side mission to save dwarves was about to become an escort mission to get them safely through hostile territory.
“Hmm. We can probably help you out some, and I was going to contact the dwarves eventually.” I said, scratching my chin. “I’ll take you to my place, what rites do your fallen need?” I asked the assembled survivors.
“A prayer and a pyre.” The old priest said, sadness wracking his voice. He still held the red lock of hair in his hands.
“Alright, mind if I take charge?” The fact that I even asked bewildered the dwarves.
I quickly transferred the contents of the wagons (mostly crates of high quality tanned leather and steel ingots) into my Astral Vault, causing another minor outburst of shock. This nearly filled my inventory even after clearing most of the space at EDEN.
“I have a spacial storage artifact.” I explained, seeing all of the shocked and concerned faces turn toward me. “You’ll get it all back once we arrive, this will just make travel much faster.”
“I have seen one such item.” The old outspoken dwarf from earlier said with a shake of his beard. “It could only reduce the weight of items within by half, and wouldn’t hold even one wagon of goods.”
“Anyways, I’ll spare you handling the remains of your kin. Go ahead and take a rest over there while I arrange for their cremation.” I bade the surviving dwarves, changing the subject.
“Won’t ye need to dismantle the wagons for wood, then?” A random elderly dwarf asked. “We can help.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I answered. “Unless wood is part of the ceremony, I won’t need any fuel for the fire.”
“Nay, we use fire only to deny the carrion beasts turning our loved ones to scat on the stone. Ash in the wind be more dignified in our eyes.” The old priest answered.
Within a few minutes I had completed the grim task of arranging the dwarven bodies into three tight rings with enough space for me to stand at the center.
“Alright, it’s ready. You can come say your final prayers, and take all the time you need.” I said, moving past them to wait a fair distance away.
As I listened to their teary goodbyes and personal eulogies, I found myself looking at the sky and wondering. Which god or gods if any could hear their pleas for a merciful next life? I decided to throw my own prayer out as well.
“Ariel my beloved little delinquent. If there’s anything you can do for those dwarves that died defending their kin today, I’ll add another favor to the pile I already owe.” I said to the sky with a smile as I thought about her.
I never expected any kind of response so when a translucent message window appeared in front of me I let out a surprised noise.
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“Hey Gray! How’s my big scary edgelord doin’? I’m stuck at the hydra boss fight on 850. Tell me how you beat it and I’ll make sure Thragnofir gives those dwarves VIP. He crushes on me so it’s gonna work out. -Ariel”
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A keyboard appeared beneath the message window and I typed a reply with a sigh.
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“Kite it to the mine in the eastern foothills. Pull as many of the powder kegs as you can to the entrance and find one of the gnomish torches that drop from the mobs in the mine. When the derpy looking head with underbite telegraphs a bite attack, drop a keg and jump back. It’ll swallow it. Once it has swallowed at least five, then feed him the torch and GG.”
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I really didn’t enjoy spilling my trade secrets even now, but oh well. That Hydra was a great buffer for my record in the Fantasy Abyss, it regenerated so fast that all but a one shot kill was worthless. Well if anyone was going to catch up to me, I’d rather it be her at least.
After a few more minutes, the dwarves backed away and fell silent. Taking that as my cue, I instantly moved back to the center of the ring of corpses. They were all watching with a mixture of sadness and curiosity from a safe distance away.
“Blast Nova.” I said too quietly for them to likely hear.
The bodies vanished, replaced by ash drifting away on the whistling breeze.
“Alright, let’s move out.” I ordered.
“Aye!” Every single dwarf echoed, kids included. I was impressed.
They organized the wagons so that the youngest and oldest rode in the center while the front and back could act as protection. Within two minutes we were moving with surprising speed along the rutted road.
Doing some rough math given how far I had traveled in those twenty minutes of fast flying, it would take us nearly a full day to reach EDEN. That gave me plenty of time to think about how to deal with this borderlands issue of douchebag soldiers preventing refugees from reaching us.