Eight Era, cycle 1721 – cycle of the squatting dog, season of Unkh, day 304
Raphael’s room was a workshop right out of a steampunk adventure – and Amaka approved. From the brass pipes and quirky dials showing esoteric readings, right down to the oddly protruding eyeglasses on the welder’s goggles and whistling pressure gauges – this was what an artificer’s quarters should look like.
‘Raphael, we have guests,’ Granny called.
A man with a soot-black face, eyebrows that were longer than Amaka’s fingers and a moustache Hercule Poirot would approve of peered over a collection of glass bottles that looked like the glass blower had suffered a bronchitis attack. ‘Tea?’ Raphael asked.
‘Sure, and why not give them an explanation as to what it is you do here?’ Granny added as she walked off.
‘Really? I so rarely get to expound upon the concept of my craft. How well do you know the subject of wearable items, beyond the banality of a subjective aesthetic assessment?’ Raphael enquired.
Amaka shrugged. ‘It’s clothing; what’s there to know?’
Raphael shook his head. ‘My dear, there’s so much more to it than that. For instance, I toyed with the concept of aluminium buttons, but my excursions into deleterious weather conditions showed that they were prone to failure at the point of an extreme winter.’
Raphael plunged his hand into a leather-topped chest and pulled out an undershirt, a top, a leather vest, various holsters, a jacket and, finally, a cloak.
‘Imagine this is a vest of moonspider silk, this top is mithril and this vest is made from chimera hide…’ As Raphael spoke, he moved his hand, and the items’ appearance changed to become what he described. ‘The combined set would be worth more than the yearly income of a major empire. However, most people make do with little more than the basic items. Perhaps they have one or two items that are enchanted or even plate armour – but that’s heavy and noisy. Maybe they get into leather armour, which is hard wearing and less noisy, but there’s very little choice in the way of style.’
The items returned to their original form, and he put them away.
‘Then, there’s jewellery,’ he explained. ‘The maximum amount you can wear is heavily debated. Although we could discuss the concept of “sets of jewellery” and their recompense compared to the sheer weight of numbers. A right-hand ring set consists of four rings, one for each finger, instead of having numerous rings on the same finger. A set has a completion enchantment, which is always more potent than mere numbers can compensate for. Many of the sea-faring races, such as the Tcho-Tcho, have earring sets, which usually comprise two to three earrings connected via a chain. Don’t believe your interface when it comes to extemporising piercings; if I had gained a level in my art every time I’d proven it wrong, I’d be an artificers’ god.
‘I see you’re both wearing dregs; such an outfit has no real benefit, other than to protect you from the cold. If you want real protection and enchantments, you need a set; anything less than a set won’t hold the same power of enchantments. You can wear as many tops as you like, even wear five tops at once, and they won’t give you the same power as a set of items. This is why most militaries, guilds and adventurers use sets. The disadvantage of a set is that it negates all other effects from enchanted items of the same nature. So rings, earrings and clothing are all different to each other but interfere with others of their own type.
‘This is a set of malachite armour – it’s high level, very strong, very good and worth maybe 100 gold to you, or 300 to someone who isn’t a friend of the Anasy. Luckily for you, I’m prepared, and you can get a new set,’ Raphael offered, moving an arrangement of soul crystals around the armour and then placing a strip of cloth to connect the crystals; each cloth had a line of sigils on it.
‘See, I’ve prepared the inscriptions already, and I use this rune to start the ritual,’ he added, holding a stone with a rune inscribed on it above the armour. When he took his hand away, the stone hung in the air. ‘This will only take a few seconds.’
‘So what you do is make armour sets?’ Amaka asked.
‘Amongst other things, yes. Ah, the set is ready; I shall now show you what my real passion is.’
All of a sudden, in place of the heavy, green-tinged armour, there was a long, flowing robe with stylish wooden toggles and elegant embroidery. Raphael picked it up and handed it to Amaka.
New item: unique imbued robe
These are unique robes made by the artificer Raphael the Needle Eye. Made from alteration magicka, this robe offers 300 protection points to your defence, has a durability of 500/500 and is lightweight at 0.10 kg. This tunic was made by a master of this craft and is exquisite in quality.
‘Oh wow, it’s so light – it feels like it’s made from normal material, like cotton,’ Amaka marvelled.
‘These are amazing! Is this what you do?’ Syeda agreed after having touched it.
Raphael laughed. ‘I can take any item and make it look precisely how you want – that’s the service I usually offer for around ten gold coins. The malachite armour was worth around 300 gold coins, perhaps 100 to someone in good standing like you. However, this finished item is worth more like 5,000. Very, very few people have that kind of money, so it would be impractical to make too many items like this, and therefore what I tend to do is little more than fashion framing: taking someone’s clothing and making it look appealing. For this item, I’ve gone further – I’ve taken its weight but kept its other stats.’
‘You can make anything look like anything else?’ Amaka asked.
‘Quite so. I can take a leather jacket and change it into a crop top, so you get to feel the sun on your skin but still have the full armour protection of a leather jacket,’ Raphael explained modestly.
‘But won’t that change its weight as well? I thought you said you didn’t usually do that?’ Syeda questioned.
Raphael made a noise to express it wasn’t so simple. ‘No, it will have the same weight at the simplest level of the spell.’
‘So for ten gold, you’d take some items of mine and change them to my own style?’ Amaka confirmed.
‘Ten gold takes a hat; a top, jacket or robe; gloves; trousers, leggings or a skirt; and shoes and turns it into anything else. It’s ten gold for a set or three gold for an individual item. Anything on a major scale, such as metal to material, is made to order and priced separately,’ Raphael confirmed.
‘Fantastic! Stirgar has loads of ugly shit we can change!’ Amaka declared, turning to Syeda. ‘Two outfits each, agreed?’
Sometime later, they ended up with five sets each, and thanks to Syeda’s barter skill – and Stirgar, who fascinated Raphael – they spent only seventy gold in total. Amaka walked out in what she thought of as her “dystopian future” outfit, whereas Amaka thought of Syeda’s as a “pirate” outfit made by someone with too much time on their hands.
*
It was late afternoon when The Floating Bear finally turned off the Dunaj into the bogs that would then lead to the Rhun. The bogs themselves weren’t recognised as the Rhun; instead, they were known as Doyen’s Folly – relating to the presumed death of some hitherto forgotten master.
‘Would you care to hear the story of Doyen Gerhart?’ one of the Anasy asked Amaka optimistically.
‘No,’ Amaka replied bluntly.
‘But it’s a fascinating tale and the most commonly believed tale of the origin of the name of these bogs,’ the woman insisted.
‘Sorry, but there’ve been so many stories,’ Amaka tried in a placating voice.
‘But I’m so close to level 50 in speechcraft. I’ll get a boost to my charisma and bartering if I can level it up,’ the woman pleaded.
Amaka was saved from replying by the sudden tolling of a bell, which caused all the Anasy to drop what they were doing and hurry to the rails of the boat, where many leaned over the edge and peered into the growing gloom that was descending on the bog as the sun sank.
‘What are we looking at?’ Syeda queried, leaning over the rails.
‘Bad things,’ Granny declared solemnly.
‘They’re stageboats! I’ve never seen one,’ Syeda crooned.
‘Stageboats? Like stagecoaches?’ Amaka asked, looking out. What she found was a large boat with a single large foot at the front, like a jet ski, and a large paddle wheel at the back. There were three of them, all silent and empty of people.
‘Sure, that’s where the name comes from,’ Granny agreed.
‘Why’re they deserted? I thought stageboats were a common form of travel?’ Syeda enquired.
‘They are; something bad happened here,’ Granny confirmed sadly.
‘Gio, Mesut, Sherida – get your teams out there,’ a voice called, and there was a sudden bustle of activity.
‘I want to check it out as well,’ Amaka decided, and then looked at Granny for permission.
Granny shrugged. ‘Sherida, take our guests,’ she announced.
A woman with deep-set eyes and a well-defined, square jaw walked over, running a hand through her hair. ‘Can you handle yourselves?’ the woman (presumably Sherida) demanded.
‘We’re still alive, aren’t we?’ Amaka stated, grandstanding.
Sherida gave a wolfish grin. ‘I’m Sherida; Tomak is the orc, but don’t worry about his garb – he’s harmless enough. Welcome to the team, me old mucker.’ With that, she smacked Amaka on the back and leaped overboard.
Amaka was left bemused. ‘What’s a “me old mucker”?’
‘Don’t worry about that; she just gets a little excited around action,’ Granny explained, speaking around her pipe.
Then Tomak came into view – a muscled Adonis with large, oval eyes and curved tusks protruding from his mouth. A one-handed battle hammer was strapped to his back, and his outfit seemed to be made from animal skins. Each individual item had the stuffed head of whatever creature he’d skinned still attached.
‘I hope you can carry your own weight,’ Tomak said with a grin; he spoke with a slur – not surprising given how his teeth must have impacted on his speech.
Amaka eyed the orc up and down. ‘That’s easier for me than for you, I dare say. What do you weigh?’
‘Around 130 kilos,’ Tomak replied, proudly slapping his chest.
‘That’s a lot of weight to carry,’ Syeda agreed.
‘Did I imagine giving the call to arms, or are you above working for a living? Go on, fuck off,’ shouted a dwarf; he had a moustache that stuck out to the width of his shoulders and a beard woven into a plait.
‘Yes, Gorguken!’ Tomak shouted, and then jumped overboard.
‘And you two, perhaps you want me to hold your hands?’ Gorguken demanded.
Syeda swallowed and vaulted overboard without comment.
‘Do you find that attitude helps?’ Amaka challenged.
Gorguken took a step forwards. ‘Why? Do you want to hear my shouty voice?’
Amaka paled at the sight of the stoic dwarf, and jumped the rails herself. She landed and rolled, getting thoroughly wet from the bog.
‘What’s with the drill instructor?’ Amaka complained.
‘The what?’ came the confused reply.
So Amaka tried again: ‘That angry dwarf.’
‘Oh, Gorguken! Each ship has one like him. He keeps things running, makes sure the decks are cleaned and deals out the punishments. Every Anasy needs someone to keep them on their toes; otherwise, we have a habit of diverging into all sorts of activities,’ Sherida explained.
‘But if you all prefer to meander around, why get someone like him to act against your nature?’ Amaka insisted.
‘It’s a dangerous world; we need someone with their finger on the pulse to make sure we don’t get complacent or caught out,’ Sherida replied.
‘You must agree that this world is dangerous. They can’t afford to take things easy if they’re to be out in the wilderness all the time,’ Syeda added.
‘Hold up; let’s look for clues as to what’s happened,’ Tomak called, holding his hand up as they neared the seemingly abandoned vessels.
‘What are we looking for?’ Amaka asked.
‘Anything out of place,’ Tomak confirmed.
Amaka shrugged, and they each set off. After completing a circuit around the boat with Amaka not finding anything she wouldn’t have expected to see in a bog, they met up and all agreed that there was nothing to find.
‘This is something.’ Syeda was the first to find something.
She was pointing to some small scratches on the hull.
Amaka shrugged. ‘It could be anything,’ she said dismissively.
‘Use your bestiary to return any creature with small claws capable of scratching wood, which can climb and live in a bog. That should really narrow down the returns,’ Sherida explained.
‘You can do that?’ Amaka replied, staggered. ‘It’s a shame I’ve got fewer than a dozen monsters in mine.’
‘Why so small? Don’t you read?’ Tomak demanded, accusingly.
‘What? Of course I do! Why?’ Amaka responded defensively.
Syeda hissed to Amaka, ‘Books about monsters? Encyclopaedias? Other bestiaries? It all adds to your lore and your own bestiary.’
‘Having a large bestiary helps you understand what monsters might be around, and therefore what poisons to use, what stats of your own to buff, any known weaknesses, etc.,’ Sherida intoned, as if she were repeating a mantra.
‘The fact that there appears to be no damage on the outside suggests what happened. Yeah, it must have been an ambush predator,’ Syeda pondered, chewing her lip.
Amaka made a dismissive noise: ‘Hmm.’
‘What’s that mean?’ Tomak demanded. ‘If you’ve got something to say, say it. We’re relying on each other.’
‘I’m not saying I’ve noticed anything; just apropos of Syeda’s ambush comment, it doesn’t have to be an ambush creature. It might hypnotise its victims or teleport them, or be a dream eater or something; heck, it might have just got lucky and found itself with a chance to ambush without trying,’ Amaka explained.
‘She’s right; it’s too soon to assume anything,’ Tomak agreed.
‘We go aboard then,’ Sherida decided.
As soon as they had climbed onto the deck, the three humans rushed to the edge and vomited. (Tomak explained later that orcs can’t vomit. They have five interconnected stomachs – Amaka thought of them as the cows of the carnivore world. Orcs only eat raw meat, flesh, bones, etc. – anything from an uncooked animal.)
What had caused the three to become violently sick was the mass of gore covering the deck. Entrails, intestines, splintered bones and chunks of fatty, yellow flesh were thrown around everywhere – like the people on the ship had exploded.
‘Holy hand grenade,’ Amaka breathed when she had finally stopped retching.
‘This was no predator; no animal eats like this,’ Sherida said slowly, afraid she might be sick again at any moment.
Tomak grunted. ‘It’s wasteful, not just of food but energy. This was an act of territorialism or fury. Perhaps something nests close by?’
‘You mean something was protecting its young?’ Syeda asked.
Tomak grunted in affirmation.
‘I don’t think so; why would it do all this?’ Syeda made a vague motion to take in the state of the deck without looking at it. ‘Surely it would scare people off, not obliterate them.’
‘A relevant point,’ Tomak conceded.
‘This is wrathful; there’s intent here,’ Sherida agreed.
‘Animals don’t have that type of intent. They don’t hold grudges or seek revenge,’ Amaka pointed out.
‘Who would do this? Lords and ladies?’ Syeda asked, and she and Sherida both shivered.
‘This is the kind of thing they revel in, but let’s not invoke them just yet.’ Sherida made a gesture as she spoke, which Amaka thought was a religious gesture, like when someone crosses themselves to ward off evil. ‘We should go below and see what became of the others.’
Tomak called the group over. ‘Look at this; it’s rather suggestive of what happened, no?’
‘I’d rather not look at anything on the deck too closely,’ Amaka murmured.
He was studying the stairs, or more accurately, he was studying the door to the stairs.
‘Look at these marks – deep gashes, and all of them occurred low down, until whatever it was broke the door open.’ Tomak pointed to the marks on the door as he spoke.
‘Okay, it’s not something used to doors, so something wild,’ Sherida suggested, nodding.
Tomak persisted: ‘More pertinently, they’re all close to the ground. Whatever this was couldn’t have been much more than knee high, probably less.’
‘Long, sharp claws, small and vicious,’ Sherida summarised. ‘It’s not much, but every little helps.’
‘And fast,’ Tomak added.
‘How can you tell?’ Syeda asked.
‘None of them are dead,’ Amaka answered. ‘Assuming it was a group of things and not just one. I don’t know how many died on the deck, but they didn’t take out any of their assailants. So whatever they were, they were fast and agile, or immensely strong, but if it were slow and loud, you’d expect the other stageboats to be closer. Unless they were all attacked simultaneously.’
‘I’m going with all three vessels being attacked at once. I’ve scrutinised the armour of the dead; they had some good equipment, so they wouldn’t have been taken down easily,’ Tomak insisted.
‘Unless they were amateurs. You know: all the gear but no idea,’ Amaka suggested.
‘Rich amateurs,’ Tomak grunted.
‘Well, why not? I mean, look around. The bog isn’t deep – maybe 15 to 20 inches; and there’s no trees or things to hide in. So, these people were taken out in some of the hardest land to set up an ambush in,’ Amaka concluded.
‘You’d be surprised how quickly the fog descends around here, and how quickly a situation can go from “fine” to “dead”,’ Sherida stated.
At that, they all went down the stairs. Below deck, they found a couple more bodies and a couple of chests filled with tradeable goods.
‘I’m still none the wiser about who these people were; they weren’t Anasy, but they were looking to set up some sort of deal. They had three stageboats too, so they had money,’ Sherida summarised.
‘They were the People of the Prophet,’ Tomak said.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Sherida asked, impressed.
Tomak pointed to the two chests. ‘That’s the mark of the Prophet.’
Sherida made an unimpressed noise. ‘I have no time for the People of the Prophet or whatever they call themselves now, or any others from those perennially fighting lands. With any luck, the Sultan and the Prophet will kill each other and let the lands become peaceful again.’
‘There’s a war going on? Didn’t you think you should tell a girl before taking her into it?’ Amaka accused.
Sherida shrugged. ‘They’ve been at war for centuries, ever since the Prophet came over from wherever he’s from. Anyway, it’s more like an active scuffle. There’s hardly any real conflict.’
‘So what exactly can I expect when I travel south? Come on, you’re the Anasy – masters of stories and stuff – so spin me a yarn.’ Amaka said sarcastically.
‘I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,’ Sherida replied. ‘However, the desert and the different peoples living there are collectively known as the “Lost Lands”, as it’s suffering the aftermath of some terrible war. An airman claims to have flown over it in his blimp; he claimed it took him six days, and his vessel travels much faster than our boats, mark you. There are a few different peoples who’ve made the waste their home. Most of them are nomadic and a few have made more permanent cities, but they all have borders and fight over said borders. The Prophet appeared some 100 years ago, claiming to represent “the one true god”. Only no one knows which god he’s referring to, as he just calls it “the one true god”. Not very helpful! Yet he’s meant to be extremely charismatic, hence his rise to prominence over the People of the Prophet. They’ve fought everyone around them over the last 100 years, but their fiercest rival is Kadambas, because of the Rhun, which is the only river in the north of the Lost Lands. Personally, I dislike both him and the Sultan. The Sultan is fat, lazy and greedy. He seeks wealth above all things and has allowed slavery, blood sports and more to flourish. The Prophet is just as obsessed, spreading his word and controlling all the lands around him. Probably all other lands, too, should he ever grow his borders.’
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‘And how do these people feel about foreigners?’ Amaka enquired.
‘Mostly, the people are fine; just be a little careful around the guards. The constant fighting has put them somewhat on edge,’ Sherida clarified.
‘They don’t suffer fools gladly?’ Amaka offered with a smile.
‘I think they’re always glad for an excuse to string someone up in the dungeons,’ Tomak confirmed.
‘Oh, apropos of nothing, what are you planning on doing with the stageboats?’ Amaka asked.
‘Nothing, they’ll make homes for the wildlife, I guess. Why?’ Sherida questioned.
‘Well, I could use them, or my village could anyway,’ Amaka said.
Sherida shrugged. ‘If you pay us a split fee, we’ll pilot them back to your village.’
‘Brill,’ Amaka declared, rubbing her hands. She walked off, looking for the engine room and before long gave a cry: ‘This looks like a massive boiler.’
‘Of course; it’s steam-powered.’ Sherida had to shout to reply.
‘How’s the boiler heated?’ Amaka called.
‘There should be a rune stone; just feed it mana,’ Sherida yelled back.
After a brief moment, Amaka had to ask, somewhat embarrassed, what a rune stone was.
‘Classically speaking, a rune is a magically inscribed symbol that can channel mana out of the atmosphere like we do. A rune stone is a rune written on a stone…’ It sounded like Sherida was now heading in Amaka’s direction.
From what Amaka could understand from the description, runes were like perpetual engines, pulling mana out of the air for power, and then that power was used to feed something. Whereas, glyphs were more like batteries: they could hold mana, but their main use was to cast a spell, such as in a magical landmine. Runes were often used to power a glyph to make it either more powerful or a repeatable action. There were also sigils, which was simply the name for magical letters. So, a book of magicka could be written in a normal langue, making it a book about magicka, or it could be written in sigils making it a magical book, which was how most scrolls were written.
Sherida arrived with Amaka and looked at the boiler; she reached out a hand and touched a plaque, which crumbled under her fingers. ‘Tomak, come and look at this!’
When Tomak appeared, Sherida was studying the ash pile of what had been the rune plaque that powered the boiler.
‘This was the rune, Tomak. See this? The plaque it was carved into has turned to dust. What can do this?’ a stunned Sherida asked, looking at Tomak.
‘It’s not something I’ve heard of,’ Tomak concluded. ‘We should tell the others.’
*
‘What’s going on?’ Sherida enquired as they reached The Floating Bear to find a boisterous crowd on board.
‘Survivor,’ came the terse reply.
Everyone on the deck had gathered around the comatose survivor, but nothing could be done to bring him round, even healing spells.
Once everyone was back, the descriptions of what each group had found were compared.
‘Then we found this; it’s clearly from whatever attacked the stageboats,’ someone was explaining. What had been found was a thin arm, possibly from a child based on its size. At the end of the arm was a hand with five knife-like fingers.
‘I see what Kline is saying, and I don’t like this. If these were sent from the Prophet, then not only would they’ve been well armed and armoured, as you discovered, but they’d also have been of a high level,’ Tomak whispered to Sherida.
‘Do you have something to add?’ Gorguken asked.
‘Yes, sir,’ Sherida said, and then recounted their story. When she got to the rune plaque, she pulled out a packet of dust and showed it to the group. ‘Something sucked the mana from this; it may be that all the vessels set up the attack in the first place.’
There were surprised gasps from the group, and someone stepped forwards.
‘You have something to add, Jürgen?’ Gorguken asked.
‘Yes, sir. What they found would explain this,’ Jürgen responded, and then he pulled out a bundle of material, which he unrolled to show a sword that looked almost as brittle as the plaque had done. ‘This is an enchanted blade with all the mana drained from it.’
‘What did that? Was it that thing?’ Kline asked, nudging the strange, dismembered arm with his toe.
‘Someone get me an adder stone, fresh fish guts and some rowan wood,’ Granny demanded as she bent down and took the arm. She then dug out an old pipe from one of her pockets and ran one of the fingers from the severed arm over the pipe, which was effortlessly cut in half.
The items were quickly collected, and Granny folded down three of the fingers and inserted the fourth through the hole in the adder stone. Nothing seemed to happen until there was suddenly a loud crack, and the adder stone split in half.
‘What just happened?’ Amaka ejaculated, making many people look round at her.
‘Everyone knows stones with holes in them are magical; we call them adder stones. The arm of whatever creature this is has absorbed the mana in the stone, and so the stone broke,’ Sherida explained simply.
‘That means that whatever that thing was, it passively absorbs magicka!’ Syeda exclaimed, amazed.
‘It does indeed,’ Granny agreed, and then tied the rowan branch to the arm with the fish guts.
Next, she ran one of the monster’s fingers over her palm – and everyone held their breath – but nothing happened.
‘Now what just happened? Why didn’t that cut her hand off?’ Syeda whispered to Sherida.
But Granny heard her and answered. ‘It seems that this creature feeds off magicka; take its mana, and the monster becomes powerless. Rowan wood absorbs mana, the fish guts expedite the process and now the fingers are harmless,’ Granny mused. ‘This must be some sort of made creation.’
‘Like a golem?’ Syeda asked.
‘No, golems are the name given to artificial constructs; this is biological,’ Granny explained.
‘So it’s a zombie?’ Amaka squeaked; she didn’t like the idea of zombies.
‘No, zombies are part of the Reanimated genus, nor is this of the Undying genus, which is something trapped before its life is taken. It may sound pedantic, but it’s important to get these distinctions correct because the weaknesses of those in the Artificial genus, such as golems, aren’t the same weaknesses as those in the Undying genus. However, I suspect this is something of the Abhorrent genus,’ Granny lectured.
‘What’s that?’ Syeda asked.
‘Creatures taken from the womb prematurely, such as botchlings and strzyga. Such creatures – never having experienced life – can’t be killed. The life of each one is tied to a thing, so you must break the bond or the item its life is tied to in order to destroy the creature. However, neither a botchling nor a strzyga pull mana from items. This must be a pedon lapsi, and amongst all those of the Abhorrent genus, this one is particularly repulsive. A canine – or group of them – is fed milk from a lactating woman for three moon cycles; she’s then impregnated by it during the full moon. Once grown, the child rips its way out of the woman and is bathed in the blood of its father. The mother’s still-beating heart is wrapped in ivy and buried, and whilst the heart still beats, both the child and the mother will remain in this world. We must find this heart and burn it,’ Granny said didactically.
New quest: cursed child
You’ve learned of the presence of magic most foul; find the heart and destroy it.
‘So how do we find it?’ Kline asked.
‘It must be nearby; they don’t travel far from their tether,’ Granny replied.
‘We must get the woozles inside; we can’t afford to lose them,’ Gorguken warned.
At that, they broke up into groups: Sherida and Tomak didn’t feel like dealing with the woozles, who became cantankerous when they realised they were heading inside the boat; and Syeda and Amaka had never dealt with woozles, so they decided to follow Sherida and Tomak.
‘So how do we find it?’ Syeda hissed at Sherida; since leaving The Floating Bear they’d all been whispering. You know, just in case.
‘Such an evil device will have an effect on the land; I think we’ll find a dead patch of ground or at least somewhere things avoid,’ Sherida murmured back.
‘That’d be great if we were on a farm, but how will we notice a patch of land animals avoid when there aren’t any around anyway? And what if it’s buried under the water? We won’t notice a barren patch of land in the water,’ Amaka rebutted.
‘You’re always so pessimistic.’ Syeda scolded.
‘I’m a realist. If I see half a glass of beer, I call it half a glass. If someone is drinking it, I call it half empty, and if someone is filling it up, I call it half full. Realist,’ Amaka huffed.
‘We should have brought Minion and Cloud; they’d sniff it out,’ Syeda lamented.
‘True, but I’m happy they’re locked inside the boat; they’re a bit too unpredictable to fight a creature that killed three stageboats full of people,’ Amaka said defensively.
Syeda stuck out her tongue and pulled a pair of items out of her satchel: they were identical sticks, which were straight except for at one end where the sticks had a ninety-degree bend in the length; she used the bent bits at the end as handles.
‘Aren’t they dowsing rods?’ Amaka accused.
‘Sure, why not?’ Syeda said protectively.
‘Well, you can’t tell me they work!’
‘They do; I’ve had these for ages.’
‘But there’s water everywhere,’ Amaka stated, waving her arm around.
‘They aren’t used for water; they’re synergistic,’ Syeda clarified. ‘They feed off your mana and become attuned to it so you can find more of it. If I channel solidity magicka, then they’ll home in on any solidity magicka around. The creature absorbs mana, right? So I’m looking for an area that’s low on magicka.’
‘That’s ingenious!’ Sherida declared.
Syeda blushed. ‘Well, it isn’t working very well; magicka is very evenly spread, so I’m just trying to find the natural background rhythm.’
They trudged around getting damp and cold; sticky bog weeds clung to Amaka’s thighs and nearly tripped her countless times.
‘What is this bloody stuff?’ Amaka cursed as she pulled yet more of the bog weed off herself.
‘It’s mongrel pidalu; you can make good paatra out of the leaves,’ Syeda offered carelessly.
Amaka plucked off a leaf and chewed.
You have discovered a new use for an ingredient: ingredient – hybrid colocasia leaf (also known as mongrel pidalu, amongst other names); effect – increases appetite suppression
Other than getting occasionally entangled in the pidalu, not much else happened. There were distant calls from The Floating Bear, presumably as they wrestled the woozles into the ship, but the bog seemed otherwise empty of life.
'Over in the east, the pidalu leaves look yellowed and wilted,’ Tomak shouted, pointing to a small patch not too far off.
They struggled over to where he was indicating.
Syeda nodded encouragingly. ‘There’s definitely a difference in the level of magicka here.’
‘I swear something is happening back there,’ Amaka said, looking back to the boat.
‘I say we get the shovels out and check manually whilst Syeda uses her rods,’ Sherida decided, pulling out a couple of spades.
Tomak pulled out a horn made from bone and blew three long notes.
‘What’s that for?’ Amaka asked.
‘To let them know to come here so they can help in the search,’ Tomak replied, taking a spade and stabbing it into the ground.
Amaka caught movement in the bog and turned to see something stand up from under the bog water; it cut Sherida’s stomach open in a single clean swipe, and her intestines and stomach spilled from her abdomen into the dirty water. The creature then jumped up onto Sherida’s chest, knocking her over; then, it effortlessly opened her chest and pulled out an organ Amaka vaguely recognised as a lung, which was still inflated from Sherida’s last breath. The suddenness of the attack meant that Sherida still looked confused instead of in pain as the creature ran its hand over her face and pulled off her right cheek, revealing dirty, yellow teeth. Only then did the reality of the situation strike Amaka, and she suddenly started screaming.
Tomak blew a sustained note on the horn, and the creature turned towards him and leaped over to him on all fours. Tomak took a step back; the creature moved with surprising speed, yet Tomak timed his strike well and caught the creature full on the head with his hammer. There was a crack, and the creature flew backwards, its head now on sideways.
Amaka scurried over to Sherida, but she was already dead, her eyes unfocused and glassy.
‘Revolting creature,’ Tomak spat, and then strode over to it, bringing his hammer down on its head once more. Tomak walked away from the monster and knelt down next to Sherida. ‘Go in peace, my sister, and share your story with our forebears,’ Tomak said as a liturgy.
The pedon lapsi stood up, its head turned, and the sound of its spine grinding back into place carried to Amaka and made her vomit. It looked at Tomak with half its face caved in and took three lumbering steps before leaping.
‘Tomak, dodge!’ Amaka shrieked.
But Tomak moved too slowly, and the creature flicked out its arm and took Tomak’s head off in one fluid movement; Tomak’s arterial blood spurted straight up before his body noticed it was dead and he fell forwards.
Race: pedon lapsi
Your lore is too low to know more of this creature.
Genus: Probrosus (commonly known as Abhorrent)
Class: A
Affiliation: unknown
Harvestable items: none
State: tormented
Level: 43
Health none, stamina none, magicka none
Boon: none
Curses: its very existence
Bestiary increased
‘Syeda, find the heart!’ Amaka screamed.
The pedon lapsi faced the sky, opened its mouth, sent forth a sound like the cries of tortured children and then lurched forwards. Amaka was saved from certain death by the fact that the creature had become hampered by deep, thick mud. By the time the monster had lumbered free of the mud, Amaka’s mind was working once more, and she threw herself to the side and rolled like a computer game character. The perfectly formed tuck and roll kept all of her momentum, though it had seemed impossible to perform in real life. Amaka pulled her sword free and confronted the pedon lapsi side-on to keep as much of her body covered by the sword as possible. The creature swiped at her, and she deflected its hands with her sword. It was clumsy but fast, so Amaka’s arms were quickly opened by long, deep cuts, which oozed blood and warmth, so that her arms itched from the heat. But too much of her life’s blood was leaking out, and Amaka’s strength and stamina were quickly draining. She dodged, rolled to the side and came up swinging, opening up the beast’s thigh, but no blood flowed. It had no health points to lose, and it didn’t even flinch.
Battle log:
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points
Cut by pedon lapsi, −25 health points, 700 health points remaining
Affliction: bleeding, the accumulative damage is −13 health points per second for 5 seconds
Battle log:
You hit the pedon lapsi with your sword for 53 slash-damage points, critical failure, creature has no source of health
The pedon lapsi ignored its wound and closed in on Amaka, who was now searching for a counterattack, since her strike had failed. It brought its arm up to split Amaka’s stomach open, just like it had with Sherida, but a deep-yellow barrier appeared before Amaka that resisted the creature’s razor-sharp fingers, so that she only lost a few health points.
‘Meteor!’ a voice boomed.
As a result, a flaming ball formed in the air and dropped onto the pedon lapsi. The patch of ground that the fireball impacted steamed and boiled, but it cooled quickly, and the beast stood up once more, burned and missing flesh in some places.
‘We need that heart!’ Amaka shouted redundantly.
‘One second!’ Syeda shot back, digging wildly.
Amaka’s yellow barrier wavered under the attacks; the creature’s high level easily overpowered her feeble level for sword play, so that her strikes could be effortlessly evaded – when the creature even bothered to evade her blade. Most of the time, the pedon lapsi simply took the hit, opening up its foetid and rotting innards, making Amaka gag and heave. She didn’t look around to see who cast the shield spell over her or who had cast the fireball, but whoever it was didn’t seem keen to act again whilst the fiend was so close to Amaka.
‘Harpoon!’ came a cry, and an arrow cut open Amaka’s cheek and then struck the pedon lapsi in the chest, throwing it backwards and pinning it to the ground.
‘Found it!’ Syeda exclaimed.
Just then, Amaka’s barrier fizzed and died, leaving her vulnerable, so she never got the chance to look over to see Syeda holding something that seemed to be bleeding and pulsating.
‘Crush it!’ Amaka roared.
Syeda made frantic movements for a moment. ‘It’s not working!’ she shouted, frustrated.
Amaka ran over and took the heat, studying the heart.
New item: dirge of purgatory
This is the still-beating, still-bleeding heart of one abused and cursed to unspeakable humiliation and horrors.
Quest update: cursed child
You’ve found the heart and must destroy it; the current durability of the heart is 999/1,000.
Alternatively, now you have the heart, you may control the beast.
‘It’s got 1,000 durability!’ Amaka cursed.
The pedon lapsi pulled the harpoon slowly through itself, all the while letting out sounds that broke the spirits of all who heard it.
‘Use Sherida’s dagger!’ someone called to Amaka, who to her credit, only hesitated for a moment before she ran over to Sherida’s body and searched for a dagger.
New item: deus ex dagger
This is a unique item bought by spending faith points. This dagger can kill any target with one strike; it’s able to deliver two strikes before breaking.
Amaka heard the scream of the fiend change; she looked up to see it had freed itself from the harpoon and was charging her down. Amaka staggered back and tripped; it flicked out a hand and opened up her leg from thigh to calf with hands so sharp the cut was painless.
‘Do it!’ someone bellowed.
Amaka plunged the dagger into the heart.
The pedon lapsi staggered as foul, black substances burst from its accumulated injuries; it clawed its way up Amaka as she lay on the floor, her eyes bulging. Its fingers dug into her skin, but with each grasp, its hands became duller, so that the pockmarks it left in Amaka’s skin were shallower and shallower until it gripped her around the throat. As its vile blood spilled over Amaka’s body, it dropped on top of her; in its last moments, as Amaka made eye contact, it seemed to find peace.
Affliction: bleeding
You have a severe haemorrhage, 132 health points lost per second until the wounds are healed or your heart stops.
Someone holding a flaming arrow rushed up to Amaka and pressed it against her leg; she screamed so hard her voice broke.
You have gained 45,494 experience points following your battle against the pedon lapsi
(8,809 experience points to the next level)
Reward for raid boss – pedon lapsi: stats increased – agility 21, parry 9, daggers 15, swords 12
Quest completed: cursed child
You’ve freed a woman from a fate worse than death and rid the world of something that should never have existed.
Rewards: 50 gold coins, 1,000 relationship points with Anasy, and yes (why not?), take some lore levels – lore 25. It feels good to share this information with someone for a change; too many people don’t care about the world around them.
Milestone unlocked! I’ve lost track of your stats recently, but something achieved over level 10, 1,000 experience points
Level up! Level 34 (138,809 experience points to the next level)
Amaka read through the information and closed her eyes; she used her respect-for-the-fallen ability to honour the sacrifices of Sherida and Tomak.
Ability edited: respect for the fallen
It’s come our attention that you’re gaming the system with this ability; we never expected anyone to come across so many bosses. So, since you haven’t been earning faith points instead of experience points, we’re going to give you faith points. It’s both a reward and a punishment.
1,000 faith points earned from fallen friends and foe
Amaka cast a healing and felt her energy levels refresh, but her muscles ached; it was like waking after a hard day’s workout. Once she’d healed, she slogged back to The Floating Bear and was helped aboard. The news of the deaths of Tomak and Sherida travelled quickly, and Amaka and Syeda both received thanks for avenging their deaths. There were wails of anguish, and a few stoic-faced people exchanged jokes about Tomak and Sherida. To Amaka’s embarrassment, a few people attempted to commission her, wishing for her to join their parties. Amaka felt like a fraud, as if the creature had attacked her first, she’d have been just as helpless as Sherida.
Amaka attempted to summon Stirgar, but all she got was a migraine, which was quite germane when it came to Stirgar; however, the migraine normally happened after she’d summoned him and had spoken to him for a minute. Stupidly, Amaka looked at her hand, as if that would explain Stirgar’s failure to materialise. Amaka grunted and tried again, ignoring the pain from the migraine – after all she had a corpse to sequester. Finally, a wooden sign – a bit like a “for sale” sign – appeared before her:
Due to unforeseen cir-cum-stances your daemon of choice is unavailable. The continuation of the corruption of your soul means a lot to us. Please be patient whilst we address this issue. Think of it as good practice for limbo.
‘What the fuck?’ Amaka muttered after reading it. ‘Unavailable?’
Amaka gritted her teeth and channelled the spell to summon Stirgar, pushing through the pain until her mana bar started to deplete as she forced more and more power into the summoning. Slowly, a dull burning spread through her arm from the tattoo designating Stirgar’s name, which had appeared with excruciating agony on her arm after learning the spell to summon the demonic servant. She embraced the twin pains, until her mana bar neared depletion, and then she drank a potion, determined to succeed.
‘Er, what are you doing?’ Syeda asked stepping back. ‘Tattoos aren’t meant to change like that.’
‘He’s not getting off. We’ve constantly faced death; he’ll damn well come when called!’ Amaka grunted through gritted teeth.
There was an eruption of sulphur and brimstone, and a slim, girlish thing appeared looking bored and unamused.
‘Damnation will come a lot quicker at this rate,’ the girl said in a teenager’s voice of disinterest.
‘Who are you?’ Amaka panted as sweat dripped out of every pore.
‘Desmonda,’ the girl replied.
‘Where’s Stirgar?’
Desmonda spotted a beetle creeping up the wall and stuck a thick, black nail through it before taking a bite, which crunched. She then offered the rest to Amaka, who passed on it, so Desmonda finished the rest.
‘He’s in a meeting; they wanted to know how he’s gaining levels so quickly,’ Desmonda explained.
‘It’s not a good thing, you know, getting the attention of higher-level daemons.’
‘How did you appear? Isn’t my spell only to summon Stirgar?’ questioned Amaka.
‘It was, but you poured excess mana into it and changed the nature of the spell. Anything can happen when you do that – anything could still happen. Who knows what kind of damage you’ve done to it?’
‘Can you tell?’ Amaka asked.
Desmonda shook her head. ‘We’re all skilled autodidacts, it comes with our nature, but I’m still low level.’
‘I haven’t got any notifications saying the nature of my summoning spell has changed.’
‘Of course not; they want you to think everything is normal until they find a way of using it to their advantage.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
‘Probably most of daemon kind, any one of them would have intervened to stop you, knowing the changes you were making as you started to morph the contract that was burned into your flesh. Burned into your flesh,’ Desmonda repeated for emphasis. ‘That really should have been a clue not to mess with it.’
‘I don’t like this,’ Syeda whispered to Amaka.
‘Anyway, I’ve got a lawyer roasting over an open pit – I don’t want him to dry out. I hate it when all the seed leaches from their body.’ And with that, Desmonda disappeared.
Summoning cancelled
‘Wait. What? You can’t do that! Can she do that?’ asked Amaka.
‘Oh, I have a really bad feeling about this,’ Syeda warned needlessly.