The Imperial lightning knights were minor villains in the books. The comparison to stormtroopers was pretty apt. They were supposed to be some of the best trained warriors in the world and, compared to the typical levied peasant with a pitchfork, they probably were. However, the books also made them utterly useless against Garland and his companions. They tore through the lightning knights by the dozens and the supposed elite troopers were basically just excuses for action scenes. Two wouldn't have caused any of the books’ heroes to sweat. Two bearing down me with their swords was almost certain death.
It didn't help that whatever the wizard had done to me left me feeling like I was about to fall over and die. It should have been illegal to have red robed guys use ice magic, national color of the Empire or not. Still, I had the Skull King's sword in my hands and was ready to fight, even though I had almost zero ability to do so.
No saves, no continues.
I had to remember that.
“Roll!” Jon shouted, reminding me that the combat of the games was incredibly broken with its dodge mechanics.
I threw myself on the ground and rolled across the ground like Captain Kirk did fighting the Gorn. Much to my surprise, I moved with a swiftness and clarity I never possessed on Earth. The first sword attack slammed against the ground without striking me and I rolled again, dodging away from the attacking Imperial who looked at me like my actions were more silly than effective.
At least, he seemed to be looking that way before I plunged the sword into chest. It was like sliding a knife through a slice of warm better, his armor practically useless against the rune weapon's magic. The man's eyes sunk back into his face as his face became ashen then rotted away to a skeleton underneath his clothes.
It wasn't just limited to the flesh of the dead soldier, either. The chain mail rusted over and disintegrate while the red tabard rotted like it had been stunk in a flooded basement for a decade. Whatever “witchfire” was, it turned out it was damn terrifying in its effects. It reminded me of the death animation from the old, animated Dragon's Lair game. The effect was so shocking that I found myself frozen in place, needing a moment to breathe from my rolls.
Unfortunately, that left me wide open to the guy I'd dodged in the first place. “Die, Knight of Nowhere!”
I didn't get a chance to roll again before he came at me. He didn't get a chance to stab me, though, because a glowing arrow struck into the side of his head, sending him to the ground. Ania was standing across the room, holding it.
“You know your Arcane Fire works on regular soldiers, right?” Ania asked.
“Sorry!” I snapped. “I'm still new at this.”
“Are you alright, Bastard Brother?” Agata asked, walking over to me. “You fought like a dairy farmer.”
“Well, they fought like cows,” I muttered, falling to one knee and feeling like I was about to vomit on the floor.
Around us, the various patrons of the brothel clapped like we'd provided a floor show. The Empire's soldiers were unpopular everywhere and a large reason why the Mad Queen was considered a monster. It had been her decree that gave them free reign of the kingdoms and the ability to enforce Imperial laws within the Southern Kingdoms' borders.
“They totally ripped off Monkey Island for Pirates of the Caribbean,” Jon said, taking rest on the top of a wooden chair.
I checked my bracelet for just how badly I was off.
HEALTH: 3/10 (Major Injury, Frost Sickness)
I had no idea what Frost Sickness was but suspected it wasn't good. I ended up letting loose a horrible series of coughs and felt like throwing up.
HEALTH: 2/10 (Major Injury, Frost Sickness)
Crap.
I reached down and tried to cast a CURE spell. Instead, Agata lifted her staff and spoke a melodic series of words. It made me feel terrible for the fact my spells just involved saying the spell's name. It felt like I was cheating somehow. I wasn't about to question her facility with sorcery, though, because Agata's magic moved through my body like a warm liquid. The pain in my chest subsided and I no longer felt like I was dying. Nevertheless, I checked my bracelet and saw the difference.
HEALTH: 6/10
Still, not great. So, I put my hand on my chest and spoke, “CURE.”
Much to my surprise, it managed to fix everything else wrong with me. I felt better, stronger, and well rested.
Then I threw up.
HEALTH 10/10
“You should always apply a healing ointment before that,” Ania said, shaking her head. “Magic may fix you up but it sure as shit hurts.”
Agata sniffed the air. “You don't need to lecture our brother on such things, dear sister. He has more experience than any man alive in the combination of both swordsmanship and sorcery.”
“Because all the other Dark Undermasters are dead,” Jon said. “Well, except Piotr and that guy probably can only slay a leg of mutton these days. I've got to say I approve of the glow up they've given Agata, though. Her actress never got to slink around like the rest of the female cast. I think she married a One Direction member after the last season. They're probably divorced now.”
Ania shot Jon a glare.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
I stood up and shook my head. “Thank you for your help.”
“I am here not to provide you help, Bastard Brother,” Agata said, addressing me. “Instead, I come here representing the will of Mokosh. She came to me in a dream and said that it was my destiny to aid thee in driving away the Old Gods and bringing an end to the Rising Shadow. Do not think this means the things between us are settled, though. I blame thee for your role in the downfall of our house.”
“Right, sure,” I muttered.
“Hot,” Jon said. “Clearly Weis had a thing for verbally abusive women. Him and Robert Jordan both.”
AGATA ROSE HAS JOINED THE PARTY
Class: Priestess of Mokosh Sorceress
Level: 2
Alignment: White
ASSEMBLE COMPANIONS UPDATED (2/6)
+200 EXP [Ice Wizard]
+300 EXP [Storm Knights]
+500 EXP [Story Bonus]
+25 GPLevel 2 to 3:
4200/5000 EXP
Ania walked over to her sister. “Hold on, Agata. Stand still.”
“I do not need you arguing on his behalf as you have always--” Agata started to speak before Ania snapped the late Skull King's bracelet on her left arm.
“What is this?” Agata asked, looking like she was having a fog lifted from her eyes.
“It'll help,” Ania said. “In any case, we need to talk. At length.”
Before Agata had a chance to respond, she collapsed into Ania's arms and the shorter of the two sisters dragged her to a nearby wooden chair that she propped her up in.
“Is she going to be alright?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Ania said. “But the memories of the past cycles are going to hit her and it's not going to be pleasant.”
“She'll remember everything?” I asked, surprised.
“Not even close,” Ania said. “However, there will be dreams, fragmentary visions, and hallucinations. I'll help her through it, though."
I looked around to the gathered people. “Should we really be talking about this in public?”
“We're speaking the Old Tongue,” Ania replied.
“Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course.”
This world made no sense.
“I can't believe Weis had Agata join the Sex Witches,” Jon said.
“They're not sex witches,” I muttered, going to check on her and wishing there was a place we could take her, but I wasn't sure I could fire man's carry her back to the keep. The upstairs was also probably occupied.
The Priestesses of Mokosh were the largest surviving organized religion in the Southern Kingdoms. All the others had fallen into disrepute. It helped the other Old Gods were jerks and the New Gods had been brought by foreign invaders. Mokosh was the goddess of the Earth, fertility, fate, harvest, and childbirth.
Also, yeah, sex.
Mokosh was kind of an Aphrodite and Gaia figure simultaneously. Weis took a great deal of time describing their temple prostitution and holy sexual rites. Obviously, that had been of great interest in teenage me but now seemed kind of embarrassing as me missing the subtleties of the faith. Nightchilde said they represented Pre-Christian female worship that was totally not just a horny old man writing about a bunch of sexy mages.
“Oh, they're absolutely sex witches,” Ania said, checking her sister's eyes as if she was seeing if she had a concussion. “Mom would be scandalized by her joining. Good.”
Ah, yes. Lady Maria Rose and Ania hadn't had a chance to reconnect before she'd become one of the living dead. I tried to remember if Ania knew about her mother's transformation or whether she just thought Maria was dead-dead. If so, that would be an awkward conversation.
“Do you need help getting her anywhere?” I asked.
“I'm good,” Ania said. “You need to deal with the owner. See if you can smooth things over with him.”
“What?” I asked.
Ania hoisted up Agata over her shoulder and carried her to the door. “Use that Charisma score of yours!”
I tried to parse the logic of a literary character, who was a real person, referring to game mechanics that only existed because of an author from her world licensing a video game from her non-fictional life. That wasn't down the rabbit hole or through the looking glass, that was straight up turtles all the way down.
However, whatever thoughts I might have had on the subject were almost immediately subdued by the crowd around us parting for the arrival of the owner. The vast number of conversations occurring stopped at his presence, which surprised me since it implied that he was a lot more important than “local pimp and tavern keep” might imply.
In the simplest terms, Maelor the Black did not look like he belonged in a Medieval Fantasy World. Not even with the Renaissance Age architecture of his brothel. No, instead I'd say he looked more like belonged in a Goth Rock band from the Nineties. The guy was wearing an open button silk shirt that showed his hairless chest, smoked black lensed glasses that weren't anachronistic but still looked damned strange for our surroundings, and had black pants that I was pretty sure were the scales of some kind of giant lizard.
The dude himself was not human and I mean that in the most literal sense. He was probably an elf by the pointed ears, ivory white skin, and slightly off proportions. Elves in the Dark Undermaster series were on the tall side rather than short with him about six or six five, towering over most of the people here. There were other tiny things that drew attention like the fact that he had tufts of hair behind his ears, two fingers on each hand that were identical in length, and arms that were unusually long.
Which told me he was a vampire.
Now you might be confused about how I came to this conclusion. I don't blame you. We were, in fact, in the middle of the daytime. However, vampires (or “strigoi” if you wanted to be traditional) in this universe were like Blade or the Cullen family in that they didn't die in the sun. The lesser versions had to sleep during the day, but it wasn't quite as dramatic as in movies. The more powerful, strigoi nobles, could go about in the day just fine.
I tried to remember if Maelor had been a vampire in his brief appearance or if this was a new development, but my mind was blanking. A lot of characters had been cut from the show after all. Anyway, my brilliant deductive powers knew a vampire when I saw one. That and he looked identical to the art for the Pwiffle (Vampire) collectible card. Yeah-yeah, I'm talking myself up. What can I say? I wasn't sure that my chief advantage here on this world was the fact I had a passing familiarity with its version of the Monstrous Manual. I probably should have realized they were the same character but blame the low WIS score.
“Garland, my boy,” Maelor spoke in a smooth accent that invoked the kind of romance fiction that Nightchilde loved, “you have certainly made a mess here, haven't you?”
Maelor was handsome, I should point out. No matter how much he should have invoked the uncanny valley affect, he was close enough to a human in appearance that even I had slight movement on my personal Kinsey scale. Like 0 to .1. He was like Sandman's Dream crossed with Andrew Eldritch or Elliot Smith.
“Yeah,” I said, uncomfortable. “Old friend. I certainly did make...a mess.”
Yeah, my Garland impression could use some work.
“Whatever am I to do with you?” Maelor asked.
“We need to talk,” I said, pausing. I wasn't comfortable with crowds and dead bodies. Which I suspected was a thing i was going to have to get over. “I would like to buy some goods. Special goods.”
I'd remembered that Jon described him as a vendor. I really hoped this would pan out. Also, I really hoped once we were in private that he didn't go for my proverbial throat. Wait, no, not proverbial. Go for my literal throat.
Maleor's eyes brightened. “Ah! Why didn't you say you came here for business! Follow me!”
Jon leapt on my shoulder like a pirate's parrot before we followed him. “Well, this is slightly off-script.”
Maelor went behind his bar and opened a trap door leading to a stepladder. We were heading into the cellar of the Black Cat.
“How so?” I asked.
“There weren't any Imperial soldiers during my loop, let alone a wizard," Jon said. "Someone is altering the story.”