Chapter 3: Not in Kansas Anymore?
~ Part 3: Follow the Yellow Brick Road… ~
(or at least try to)
“Well, all silliness aside.”
I stand up from my crouching position by the Canary Lane and stretch painfully. But that kind of dull pain is also pleasurable in a way, so I won’t complain.
Looking down, I contemplate the pedestrian copyright infringement. I still haven’t a clue what its magic might be. But I intend to find out as much as I can.
After a quick prudent glance at the woods and the putrid river of souls, I lift a hand and direct my palm towards the stone.
“Pretty pretty, pretty magic, show me, pretty please, if this is a trick. [Mimi’s Super Ultra Pretty Trap Detection]!”
…
……
………
“All silliness aside,” he says.
Urgh! Shut up! I’m not the one who came up with that incantation!
Besides, you’re still being grounded for mutiny and tentative of hostile takeover. So go to your room and reflect on your actions.
…
Good. Now–
…I have a room?
MAKE ONE!! Now, silence.
I watch with mixed feelings as a beautiful swarm of azure and gold translucent butterflies flutters out of my outstretched hand. They quickly scatter and delicately settle everywhere in my direct surroundings, although concentrating mainly on the road I’d been casting the spell at.
A brief wave of dizziness washes over me as my mana abruptly depletes. Despite the inherent ridiculous factor, this spell is ludicrously powerful. Still far from the level of emptying my mana pool, but non-negligible nevertheless. Losing a large amount of energy in one go is always a little disorienting.
About five seconds after they stopped moving, all the winged insects – no more than magical construct really – sparkle softly out of existence, leaving nothing behind, not even fairy dust. It’s very clean.
I sigh in relief. Had there been any sort of trap in the vicinity – magical or otherwise – the butterfly invocation in contact with the danger would have flashed purple and petrified.
To be safe however, I follow up with another handful of more specialised detection spells and skills. Archmage Mimi “The Cute” may be a trap expert, but it’s also true that any detection spell, even the best, still boils down to the exact definition of “trap”. A gas that makes you carve ice-cream isn’t exactly considered dangerous until you encounter a poisonous ice-cream monster.
It happens!
Traps aren’t an exact science. Anyone who ever watched the movie BloodRayne – aka nobody – knows that some traps only target a single species and are completely harmless to other… which is pretty dumb without specific species restriction at the entrance… and putting said trap in the room with the artefact that makes said species immune to said trap is even dumber.
Think, Uwe Boll. Think!
Anyway. After thorough examination, I deduce that, a priori, I’d say I can step on this golden runic lane without blowing up. A priori.
It’s a case where rule 4 applies. “If it doesn’t look like it will kill you right away, it is probably safe.” Ahhh… I remember the day I devised that rule. On the very same day, I also wrote down its corollary, rule number five…
“If it wasn’t, you’ll know better next time.”
Hehehe… Silly me.
Thus, brimming with self-imposed confidence, I firmly step one foot onto the road.
…and blow up.
…
……
………
Not.
Nothing happens.
How… utterly… disap– unexpected.
I’m surprised! Rule number four almost never works.
HAHAHAHAHAHA…
*sigh* Where are my meds? I need to not take them.
After about fifteen more seconds of nothing happening, I finally bring forth my second foot next to the first one, expecting to burst into flames at any given moment. Literally waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or boot, in the present case. The distinction doesn’t really matter.
*ting*
Congratulations!
You are the first to discover the [Yellow Cobblestone Path of No Return].
+100 Fame.
“…”
You know, Whatever Incorporated, you won’t avoid copyright infringement just by altering the name a little… Or maybe you will? I don’t know. I’m no lawyer.
And why did the designers ever feel forced to add “of No Return”? Was the colour yellow too “happy” for the neighbourhood? Hey. You know what else is yellow? Pus. Pus is not “happy”. Pus is gross. So you don’t need to emphasise how gross that road is when it already is the colour of pus!
…
Why, in the name of mustard, would I immediately associate the colour yellow with “pus”?
…
I might be sick, or maybe I just like to disgust people. Not that there is anybody here to disgust here. And even if there was, the [River of Lost Souls] would already be doing a stellar job at upsetting stomachs.
I think I’m just lonely.
Hey, Brain. What do you think?
Not now, Nick. I’m choosing the curtains for my room. I’d like them to be colour-coordinated with the bed-sheet and carpet. It’s important. Don’t disturb me.
Σ(゜゜)
Eh? O…Okay. So-sorry then.
…
Did my imaginary friend just give me the cold shoulder?
With a confused frown, I dispel the floating translucent blue window. Then I step back off the road, switch to my enchanted silver armour and return to the stone path. Again, nothing happens.
“…Meh. You never know.”
Oh well. I shrug and start walking along the [Yellow Cobblestone Path of No Return] and across the blue bridge.
It’s really a beautiful bridge. Masterfully carved, in my humble amateurish opinion. I’m not very knowledgeable about art in general, but I’m very sensible to beautiful things. At least I believe so. I like beauty, as a broad concept. It can be pretty beauty, rough beauty, grotesque beauty, dark beauty… All is in the eye of the beholder after all. And I behold a lot.
It’s also rather long, the bridge. Not remotely to the point of rivalling any impressive modern day structure, but still long enough that it takes me a good minute to cross it at a leisurely pace.
Midway, I stop and glance over the carved railing, at the raging flow of souls beneath.
“It’s higher than it looked from the side. Uh?”
I suddenly feel dizzy. My vision blurs for an instant, and I’m overcome with a powerful urge to jump down into the corrosive torrent. It only lasts an instant however. I shake my head, push the feeling aside, turn around and resume walking.
How odd. I wonder if this was an effect of the runes marking the road.
But then again, I always feel like diving down whenever I’m in high places. So maybe not. I also often want to jump in front of busses and cars when I walk in the street. Not trucks though. I wonder why? Maybe it’s the shape. Or to slightly tilt the steering wheel when I’m driving and cause a frontal collision with another car…
Just random passing thoughts. I… I’m not suicidal, okay?? But… you know… it’s like… you’re thinking: “What would it feel like?” Painful, no doubt. But how painful exactly? In what way? Same thing with actually choking someone, or tearing an arm off. Those are sensations you normally wouldn’t experience.
It’s kind of a constant subconscious wonder, like an itch you want to scratch but you know you shouldn’t. Thankfully our generation has virtual reality. I’m not sure how I would have fared in the pre-VR world. Untold Tales is especially astonishing in that aspect, with the impossible level of realism it provides.
Well it’s not like I feel any uncontrollable urges to do any of those things in real life. It’s only idle curiosity. But I’m sure everyone has their moments when they just want to stab someone for no obvious reason.
While pondering, I eventually reach the end of the bridge. There I pause.
This shore looks nearly identical to the one I just left. Impossibly tall trees, gloomy darkness, cold stale air… The usual… Save for two points. For one, the yellow road doesn’t turn into a broken mess after five feet into the forest, which is good, otherwise I really wouldn’t know where to go next. And, for two, the woods are filled with fog.
Dense, spooky, candyflossy fog.
The thick land-cloud crawls on the ground, akin to an ethereal static landslide, rising up amongst the giant ancient trees, swirling around the trunks, hiding them and allowing only vague shadows to appear. I can imagine the view from above looking like a sea of white filled with treacherous reefs.
http%3a%2f%2fwww.artisticfootprint.com%2fwp-cont...-A-103.jpg [http://www.artisticfootprint.com/wp-content/gallery/coastal-labyrinth/James-Dahmer-Photography-A-103.jpg]
Like waves in slow motion, the mist rolls heavily out of the woods. And like waves dying on a sandy shore, it dissipates inches after crossing the treeline, leaving a clear visibility near the nauseating river. Strangely the fog also seems to partially avoid the road, twisting and flowing around it, forming a cottony tunnel leading to misty darkness.
I observe this eerie and airy crème fraiche for some time, trying to discern any suspicious movements within, but to no avail. The only thing I perceive is silence. This just looks like very normal, stationary, implausibly thick, swirling haze in the middle of a forest filled with undead. Perfectly normal, by my book.
After another round of detection jutsu, I decisively continue forwards and dive straight into the tunnel of fog, following the daffodil-coloured cobblestone path.
My eyes are sharp and my mind focused. Even though nothing bad has happened yet, I must remember not to let myself get distracted. Who knows what might be hiding within this mist. Or what is the purpose of the runes whirling under my feet. My life depends on–
Hey. For the wallpaper, blood red or purple and black?
What? Ah. Err… Well… As long as it’s not pink.
Mmmmh… okay then…
Yeah. Now. As I were saying…
…
……
………
What was I thinking about again?
* * *
Mist… Fog… Cloud…
It really doesn’t seems much when you think about it.
A floating heap of gaseous white stuff. An inoffensive mass of barely condensed liquid in suspension in the air. In nature, there normally isn’t anything to fear from fog. However, when magic is thrown into the mist – See what I did there? – this seemingly inoffensive aqueous phenomenon becomes one of the world’s most vicious tools of assassination!
Don’t believe me? Well, let me ask you…
Did you ever feel the stealthy knife of a steam-cloaked assailant?
Ever lost your way inside a cloud of poison? Of acid? Of neurotoxins?
Ever died after billions of droplets suddenly turned into a lethal storm of frozen needles?
Ever been encased in an instantaneous block of ice?
Ever seen eyes pop under a sudden pressure, seemingly coming out of nowhere?
Ever drown, above ground, after the water density in the air exponentially increased?
Ever exploded, as vapour that had infiltrated your lungs suddenly expanded?
Ever gotten strangled by condensed moist smoke?
No? Well, I have. And it is most unpleasant.
Once, I even witnessed a whole party of experienced players being instantly reduced to shredded meat by a single newbie water mage, simply because of his clever use of mist.
That is why, right now, I feel far from relaxed as I slowly progress thought the dense haze swirling around me. In one of my rare bouts of vigilance, I constantly monitor my breathing and heart-rate, and keep a watchful an eye on my surroundings.
However, after a while without anything happening, the fog suddenly begins to clear and a low man-made structure progressively appears in the distance. Intrigued, I double my pace, accelerating towards my newfound target without lowering my guard. Soon, my visibility goes back to normal.
I finally recognise the wooden construction.
“…”
My brain skips a beat, my heart blinks, and my eyes freeze. In other words, my body just about decided to stop caring and get the hell outta here.
“What the…”
In front of me, spanning over turbulent milky waters, is a delicate, blue and far too clean, bridge, carved with beautiful blooming roses.
At this moment, I have no other choice. One action is evident.
I orz.
Why… Why… Why–
Hey! I’m back. What did I mist?
Hah-Hah-HAH!!
What? Think you can do better?
I’m an idiot.
Hmmm… Okay? Want to share something that we don’t both already know?
I was so cautious against unknown threats, that I completely overlooked one of the most basic magical applications of mist. Illusions.
Oh. That kind stupid.
Shut up.
You really can’t do shit without me.
Shut up. Why don’t you go chose a lamp or something?
Illusions.
It’s not surprising to have troubles seeing clearly in the mist. In fact, it’s to be expected. Which makes misty areas the perfect set up to mislead unsuspecting targets using a combination of naturally lowered visibility and simple deceiving imagery.
Well… I was deceived and misled. Thoroughly.
Although, I haven’t simply turned around one-eighty and retraced my steps backwards. Just now, I emerged from the foggy forest about fifteen to twenty metres upstream… or maybe downstream… whatever… fifteen to twenty metres away from the bridge.
Obviously, at some point, I must have wandered off the cobblestone path. Then I was brought back to the nauseating torrent of hell. On hindsight, I remember finding myself surrounded by dense clouds, even though as I mentioned before, the fog stays away from the road. On the moment however, it didn’t appear strange at all.
“Tsk.”
Crossing this mist might prove a tad complex.
Is it some kind of barrier?
Likely.
But, hey… A barrier? That means there’s something worth protecting on the other side. The voice in my head gains a tone of crafty glee, matching the sly hungry smile spreading on my face.
...Likely.
Hehehe…
“Hehehehehehe…”
HeheheheheheHAHAHAHAHAHA…
“MwahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! …ha …ha …ha.”
…ha …haha… ha…
…
We have a problem.
Likely.
Walking along the shore towards the bridge, I glance ponderously at the fog filling the woods, merely a couple feet away from me. I rack my brains for everything I know about illusions and mist.
The most obvious spell would be, unsurprisingly, [Illusion Mist]. It falls under the Void Affinity of magic, which deals with raw “pure” mana instead of elements. So the “mist” itself in that case would also be no more than an illusion. And since most illusions only affect sight, the [Illusion Mist] has one fatal flaw. It’s not wet. Which makes it easy to detect if you have a modicum of experience.
However, this fog is. Is wet, I mean. So I just DUMBLY assumed it was safe.
“And I got tricked…”
I stop by a tree which is growing slightly out of line and rest my helmeted forehead against its bark. Then I lean slightly backwards, and…
“Like.”
*thud*
“A.”
*thud*
“Freaking.”
*thud*
“NOOB!!”
*THUD-crack*
I berate myself, accompanying the punctuation by hitting my head on the hard trunk.
HOY!! Stop hitting yourself. Fucking Hell! You’re making everything shake in here!
By the way, the crack was the bark. Not my head.
I hope.
I step back, feeling a little light-headed, but paradoxically clearer-minded.
I sigh. My mistake was a stupid one indeed, I freely admit it.
Everybody knows the “weakness” of Void Magic’s [Illusion Mist]. However, if a mage were to cast a simple Water Affinity [Mist] simultaneously with its deceiving variant, the [Mist] spell wouldn’t interfere with the illusion, because the former has no effect beside… well… being wet, and reducing visibility.
It’s just airborne water, what d’ya expect?
Yeah, well… Anyway. I does palliate the issue of simple [Illusion Mist].
Also, there is always the possibility of improving the illusion to affect not only sight, but the others senses as well, thus turning the illusion into convincing fog, smoke, or even fire if the caster wished it so.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
So I shouldn’t have let my guard down, even if typically nobody takes those alternate possibilities into account. That’s because the amount of mana needed to cast either simultaneous spells or improve a mist illusion would be better used into a more potent, higher-tiered illusion spell, rather than on improving a weak one relying on lowered visibility and suggestions.
That’s basic knowledge.
However, who is it I am?
I am Elric Walker!!
The Wandering Knight!
The Sage of the Wild!
The Reckless Imb– Let’s omit that one.
I can’t make such a blunder! I am the Scavenger of Odd! The strange is my normal. The extraordinary is my usual. And the unexpected is within my expectations!
That doesn’t even make sense.
Precisely!
However, weeks of being confronted with nothing but dark magic and weak opponents must have dulled my senses, and my nonsenses.
“Tsh,” I exhale in annoyance between my gritted teeth.
Gaston! You’ve got to pull yourself together!
Who’s Gaston?!
But the voice in my head is right. I need to stop being so carefree!
…At least until I figure this place out!
Lost or not, pissed or not, composed or at the brink of mental breakdown, the Sage of the Wild isn’t about to let a mystery slip past him unclarified. I will find out what this road is, and where it leads.
I will do it!
Or die trying.
…as many times as necessary.
* * *
“♫ From Tales Untold, rose the Black Raven. ♪”
After casting a few protection spells on myself, I once again set about walking the ill-named [Yellow Cobblestone Path of No Return] – what “no return”? – and this time glue my gaze to its canaryness, decided not to stray from the right path again.
Literally speaking, that is. Do you even know what the right path is anymore?
Smartass.
The song I’m singing is a way to protect my mind from external influences, by focusing it on a rhythmic tune. It’s a little trick I learnt from cave dwellers I met in the Wild. Nice fellows, if a bit taciturn. They make a living by raising a “dangerous” species of monster with mild mind-control abilities, named the [Pleasant Dream Molluscs] – which I personally call Ero-Slugs, for… reasons.
The molluscs are raised for their milk, which according to their handlers, is a delicacy.
And, surprisingly, it’s true.
It really was delicious… as long as you forget it’s slug milk.
Yeah. The taste loses only by a slight margin to that of the Bovine Tribe of the beastmen…
Although, I still feel guilty for suggesting those people to… err… broaden their field of activity.
You mean how you convinced them to use the slugs’ power to market “mind porn” to the surrounding villages?
…I might have launched a terrifying industry.
Well, look on the bright side. At least that place will be the safest in Pandore once more adventurers reach it. Most players would die before allowing the destruction of their fap material.
What a sobering assessment of the profound essence of mankind.
It’s true though.
I’m not denying anything.
With these unflattering philosophical considerations in mind, I strike up the next verse of the tune with approximate faithfulness. “Singer” isn’t exactly my strongest suit. I’m way better at whistling.
“♫ Her land at peace, she kept us warmed. ♪
Gift of Heaven, Her name’s Ishtar. ♩♬”
I’m more of a fan of retro music, but this song is my current favourite among recent hits.
The band name is “Faust”. It’s a new rising group that plays mostly folk and symphonic metal. I really like that type of music, since it allies both the melodies of classical and the power of rock. It makes excellent background music to remember my most epic battles, or imagine future ones.
This particular song tells the story of a benevolent queen, loved by her people, who is progressively dragged into a downwards spiral of war and insanity by neighbouring rulers envious of her prosperity. The tale ends up in their mutual anihilation, along with the World’s.
Truly a masterpiece.
“♩ Jealousy at heart, they stole what was Hers. ♫
♪ They woke the beast: DEATH TO THOSE FUCKERS!! ♫”
It isn’t a gentle song either.
Well, it is about the destruction of the world.
To my delight, the members of Faust have recently started playing UT too, as bards obviously. Must be contractual. But they make very violent and chaotic bards!
Each is wielding a self-customized musical weapon, allying elegance and mindless brutality, which I may or may not have contracted a magesmith I know to craft and then sent them anonymously with a card simply saying “from a fan”.
*smirk*
It wasn’t cheap, but definitely worth it. What’s the use of being filthy rich if you can’t spent a few thousand gold coins on people you appreciate?
Sadly, they don’t leave the Tame Zone much, so I have yet to meet them in person.
They have obligations and stuff, I guess. They often give concerts in-game, so they probably can’t move too far away from areas with high-player density. I get that them playing UT is at least half a publicity stunt, but I hope they enjoy the game too. I’d be a shame otherwise.
Maybe I’ll see them when I go to the TZ to pick up a couple party members. And maybe I’ll be able to ask for their autograph!
…maybe they’ll ask mine?
Hehehehe…
What? A man can dream.
“♬ Her back to the gods, who betrayed Her trust,
♪ Her powers rampaged, fed by Her bloodlust,
♪ Forbidden dark spells, insults to Heaven,
♫ The angel was dead, rose the Black Raven~ ♩ ♫”
Both their music and their gaming style has made me a die-hard fan.
And, now that I think of it, the release of their next album is tomorrow. I must remember to… must remember to… remember to…
Oh.
“FUUUUUUUU…dge.”
…to not lose focus on the road.
Concentration definitely isn’t my forte.
I am an idiot.
And the bridge is before me.
* * *
It takes four more hours, one rage trip to the other side of the river, two [Why-Me Unfortunate Zombies], three [That-Is-Not-A-Way-To-Deal-With-Your-Issues Animated Cadavers], one [Calm-Down-Man Dullahan], one rancid weed sandwich, one improvised poisonous tea, one detoxification spell, one newfound hatred for blue, roses, and bridges in general, as well as a growing craving for ice-cream, before I finally managed to figure out what was wrong in my approach.
The verdict is, of course: “Soul Magic.”
Yes. I know. That was my initial conjecture about the road, but it sort of slipped off my mind after “Other Me” lost it for a moment and tried to take over.
Hey! Don’t push the blame on me! I would have warned you if I hadn’t been occupied with home interior design!
*sigh*
Plus it’s getting really hard to stay focused when I’m so hungry.
I’m a big boy. I need lots of sustenance, and I haven’t been eating properly these past few days. I don’t dare to log out to relieve some mental stress either. Because in fact I’m not really hungry. It’s only in the game. But if I log out, I’m afraid the blow of jumping back into a starving body after my break will be too much for me to endure. I’d likely collapse.
Sometimes, it’s difficult to deal with having two separated bodies, each with its own needs.
However, my little rampage just now has calmed me somewhat, at least enough to thoroughly analyse the situation once again.
As it appeared, my starting postulate was slightly off.
Yes, the mist drives me back to the river of twisted spirits, but what is deceived here is not my senses – sight or otherwise – but my very soul! …virtually speaking. Because games are not supposed to tinker with your soul for real. That’s messed-up territory.
I have a brief vision of Whatever Inc.’s executives, sitting in circle on large thrones, in a dark cave-like room lit up by countless candles, conducting some kind of abstruse ceremony…
…
But I shake that image off fast. That’s just silly.
Based on my experience with this place, I can deduce the enchantment on the shiny bricks must be subtly forcing me to walk off path and into the thick of the illusion. Literally. It would make sense. The mist is less dense around the road, so without some kind of defence, this golden path would become a golden opportunity. A literal gaping hole in the mist barrier.
And who would be stupid enough to leave that kind of enormous design flaw in their defence? I can’t see any competent mage, dark lord, or emperor creating something so powerful and yet forgetting such a huge loophole…
…
……
………
“No. Completely implausible. Actually, it might even be part of the trick. To make the target feel safer on the road, when really it is exactly the road they should be wary of! Ah-HAH!!”
That…or there are two identical bridges at both ends of the road, and this whole forest has been heavily trolling us since this morning.
Indeed… Rule 37: “Never trust anything in a world where magic is possible.”
Except little girls.
Except little girls, I concede. “Little girls are never evil.” Rule 27.
I’ll chose to believe the trolling scenario to be unlikely however. I’ll go insane if I start doubting every little detail and always envisage the most improbable possibilities. “It’s impossible to be prepared for everything.” Rule 92. There will always be stuff that takes you by surprise, just accept and deal with it.
The Big Prank Theory isn’t impossible, but, again, this whole set up here is a tiny, tiny bit too complex for some practical joke. It should be at least. It doesn’t feel like it. My weirdar says so. And my newest rule number 373 advises me to trust my guts.
I mean… Who would waste their time coming up with this kind of ridiculous plan?
…
……
………
Note to self: set up a huge illusion barrier around the headquarters of Horizon.
Fufufufu. Some kind of maze maybe? They’re more brawls than brains, a labyrinth with puzzles would definitely give them nightmares.
Hahaha. I can just imagine Yas’ frustrated face.
Ahhhh? Yes. Her enraged expression always sooth me for some reason. Hahahaha– AH!
What?
Shit. No. Can’t do it. Last time you did something similar, half their newbies rage-quitted… Daniel almost guilt-tripped you into joining after that.
Ah. Right. Damned.
“Ahhhh,” I let out a frustrated sigh. “How unfair. How was I supposed to know that they’d blame him for being stuck for two weeks in an underground maze? Ungrateful brats. Do they even know how much time it took me to DIG OUT that thing? Even with Earth magic, including the preparation phase, it took me nearly a MONTH!! Seriously, does nobody appreciate a good prank around here?”
It’s a lost art.
Yeah, it’s…
A sudden shiver runs down my spine.
Aaaaand, I just recalled what Yas did to me after she found out it was my fault that her muscle-brain almost overcooked… Yes. Definitely a bad idea.
As much as I don’t care about the feelings of anonymous players. Whenever I seriously anger the few friends I have, I always end up regretting it.
They know where I live. And they punch… hard.
I rub my left arm, a nervous tic I never got rid of, even now weeks after the cast was removed.
“Why do all my female friends keep trying to break my body?” I start mumbling to myself. “What have I ever done to womankind? Maybe I should stop befriending bulldozers… Maybe stop calling them bulldozers too… I’m no woman, but I guess that could hurt their feelings.”
Take it from me: yes it does.
I wave the comment off and continue to scratch my arm.
“Then again, is Yasmin really a woman? With her clothes on, I’d say this fact is up to debate. And what does it says about my sexuality? …and I’m completely losing focus again, aren’t I? Dammit Brain! If I can’t play with ghost acid, you don’t get to imagine yourself get beaten by naked women!!”
…
……
………
Are you into that kind of thing?
“NOT NOW BRAIN!!”
Feeling like this particular question would take a while to answer to, I wisely decide to put it on hold in a corner of my mind, next to “What does my saliva taste like?”, “Is walking in circles still going somewhere?”, “Is it possible to fall upwards?”, “Are chuparcabracorns real?”, “How do Siamese twins deal with sexuality if only one of them is gay?”, and “Why lamp?”
…amongst other metaphysical interrogations.
Then I refocus on the real important question here: “How do I follow a yellow path of parallelepiped stones in the middle of a mist created by soul magic that keeps sending me back to a river full of decaying spirits crossed by a beautiful wooden bridge decorated as if overrun by petrified blue roses in the middle of a forest previously inhabited by an undead necromancer squirrel?”
Brilliant summary.
“I think so.”
I mentally go through what I know of Soul Magic – admittedly not much. The few books I’ve found aren’t very helpful, considering they are all old, mouldy and mostly unreadable. Only thanks to finding several copies of the same tomes did I manage to somehow recreate coherent portions of texts.
You’d think that in a country overrun with the undead, people would preciously cultivate such knowledge, even as a counter-measure, but no. Humans are frightful creatures. They’d rather destroy all data on a powerful weapon, rather than risk to see on day that weapon pointed in their direction.
A valuable strategy in peace time. But getting rid of your most powerful asset when war is already raging sounds pretty dumb to me.
That said, I somehow managed to find help in the person of a drunk beggar, self-proclaimed necromancer – and indeed I believed his “perfume” would have risen the dead – who in exchange for a custard sandwich and a bottle of booze agreed to teach me three basic Soul Magic spells… of his own design, supposedly.
“Let’s hope this works.”
If not, I would seriously consider going all the way back to the town where I met that old drunk, and drag him back here by his bottle.
I take an inspiration and began the incantation.
“Like spirits disinfect from within, let mag’hic do some soul protectin’! [Soul Defence].”
…Such class.
The rhyming is pitiful, I know but …as odd as it sounds, this is not the weirdest spell in my repertoire. Besides, unlike gifts, it’s not the incantation that counts.
…
*ba-dum tsss*
Stop that.
[Soul Defence] offers me some protection against spiritual manipulation. At my level of mastery, it isn’t enough to prevent much, but it should at least help me detecting “if” I was being influenced, and maybe vaguely “how”.
You should have used that in the first place.
Don’t remind me. I’m really not on top of my game, no pun intended. My head is aching, and my stomach growling. Ahhhhh… What wouldn’t I give for a nap and a good roasted boar?
We have no wards. And no boar. And you’re wasting time.
I know… I know…
Well, now, this should make things easier.
I glance at the tunnel of mist encircling the magical pavement.
“But knowing I’m under a spell still doesn’t tell me how to actually get through. Mmmmh… Think. Think. Think.” With exaggerated moues, I rummage through my deranged brain – putting back some order in there while I’m at it – and try to find a way to bypass my magical shortcomings.
After a while, a large smile bloom on my face and I drop a fist in my other cupped hand.
“Ah! That could work …potentially. Hahahaha! How did I not think of this before?!”
I shake my head in wise self-depreciation and sigh. Truly, I’ve been really out of it this past two days. It’s not like me to overthink things so much.
“The simplest solution is often the right one. Rule 8!”
“Except when it’s not.” Rule 9.
Ignoring my pessimistic – realistic – side, I step onto the Yellow Brick Road – DERIDEO TE, Copyrightus! – once more, [Soul Defence] up… and eyes shut close.
…it’s worth a shot.
We’re so going to die.
* * * * *