“What the hell?”
Tarn rushed over to where the others stood. Most of them were studying the massive door in one fashion or another. Isca examined it with her goggles, while Lash was walking the length and tapping various points of the smooth, metallic surface with a set of lock picks. Bog simply slammed her hands into the door, while Aryo looked on worriedly. Jental leaned against it, though Tarn doubted that had anything to do with the investigation.
Only Narsol stood alone. Rather than face the door, he was in the center of the chamber. His eyes were fixed upon the metallic axe on the pedestal, while he muttered angrily under his breath.
“Never enough.” Tarn could hear him say. “After all I gave, never enough?”
Pivoting away from the team, Tarn walked toward where the orc was glowering at the pillar. Attached to its side, the blue crystal shard still shone brightly. There was now a visible dark liquid in its interior, but it was only three-quarters filled.
“Maybe it didn’t work?” Tarn asked. Narsol looked up, his expression as flat as any Shattered Stone monk. “The axe I mean. Maybe there’s more we have to do?”
“The axe did what it was supposed to do.” He pointed to the crystal, still one-quarter empty. “It was the team that Yarex brought. Mercs. They were here for money, or under duress. Their fight was not one of passion. The Axe Dungeon must consider their blood too thin.”
Too thin? Tarn looked at the axe in confusion. Then what would-
“It needs pure passion. Someone who fights with the heart.”
He reached forward suddenly, one hand grabbing the axe. Fire in his eyes, with his free hand he pointed at Tarn.
“It needs me.” He seethed. “Or you. One of us must fall.”
>>AXE COMBAT INITIATED >>INITIATOR: NARSOL >>TARGET: TARN ARISFAL >>COMBAT SIZE: SINGLE
“Narsol!” Tarn’s head whipped around him as an arcane crimson dome swiftly erected itself, encasing the two of them in a circular arena. “What the hell are you doing?”
Outside the dome, Tarn could see Bog soundlessly pounding on the outside, yelling unintelligibly. The rest quickly joined her in her silent chorus. Only Urthin watched silently, standing behind the group with his arms folded.
“I am doing what is needed.” Narsol seethed, raising the blood axe above his head. “That is your problem, Tarn! You’re too human. You worry, you second guess. You won’t pay the costs. Now I have to!”
>>AXE COMBAT BEGINS – ARENA INITIATION
Instantly the still-time froze them both in place. Tarn felt a strange otherworldly push as he was moved away from the blood axe’s altar by an unseen force, placing himself at the edge of the created battlefield. Narsol was sent in the opposite direction, as the dais began to sink into the floor.
“One of us will open that door.” Narsol glared from across the field. “I intend for it to be me.”
//INITIATIVE BEGINS: NARSOL
Tarn was suddenly frozen in place, while his mind tried to catch up with the dizzying pace of events. He quickly checked his interface. All of the status effects from the fight with Yarex had cleared, but his healing had not happened.
//Tarn Arisfal / Pulse-shifted Captain [7] / AP: 20/110 / Status effects: None //Narsol / Obelisk [3] / AP: 80/80 / Status effects: None
As Narsol summoned his pyramid-like shielding around himself, Tarn could see the Obelisk had four times the AP available. With no time to re-slot new abilities or make changes, Tarn was left without a single healing ability.
In Narsol’s first pulse, he called forth the pair of strange brass cubes that orbited him like twin moons, circling slowly as he glared from the podium. Narsol was still about ten feet away, and Tarn was sure that the cubes could be used as a ranged weapon.
He was also sure Narsol wasn’t going to use them that way.
Sure enough, the two cubes swept behind Narsol and sent him flying forward in Tarn’s direction. The wall of golden energy that made up his obelisk slammed into Tarn, driving him back several feet. He only took 10 AP from the strike, but he also gained the [Lumbering] status effect.
Smart. Tarn gritted his teeth. Narsol was aware he was in a mismatch here, even with his higher pool of AP. Tarn had far more damage options available to him, while the orc’s class was mostly focused on taunts and survivability. With only one action for the next two turns, Narsol would have a chance to pile on the damage. In the economy of actions, he had given himself more to spend.
Fortunately, Tarn still had one of the [Stim]s they had found on the bridge. He wasn’t sure if the item would work inside the Axe Dungeon, but there was only one way to find out.
His heart began to pump faster as the strange medicine began to do its work. Though the 50 armor points he gained from the stim were temporary, in three rounds this fight was surely over anyway. He held out hope that he could get Narsol to stand down, but he’d have to bring him to the brink to do it.
If Narsol was surprised by Tarn’s free action, he didn’t show it. Tarn called up
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he angrily dismissed it. Narsol was right, and this was the lesson the orc was determined to either teach him or let him die not learning it. There was no way out of this without death. The axe’s cost must be paid.
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//NARSOL INITIATIVE
The pair of cubes orbiting the orc burst into halves, with the four fragments now pummeling into Tarn. Again it was a simple damage attack, with the [Taunt] tokens it dropped being useless. The four then reformed into a single cube, which slammed into Tarn and sent him hurtling backward. He flew several feet before slamming painfully into the crimson wall with a vibrating thud.
His head rattled, and his vision blurred for a moment. The pair of images that were Narsol slowly congealed into one. He stood about fifteen feet distant, chest heaving from exertion. The damage over time Tarn had laid upon him continued unabated. Tarn’s AP was down to 30, but time and math were not on Narsol’s side.
Which is why he sent me here.
//TARN INITIATIVE
Narsol’s armor had reduced damage from ranged attacks. By casting him away, the orc was hoping he’d use his bow, and lower the damage per-turn output. It was a sound strategy, and if not for the [Stim] he’d been able to use, it might have worked.
But he had held himself apart from the team. He didn’t discuss tactics or strategy; he didn’t review abilities or debate. There was the team, and there was Narsol. Thus, Tarn was pretty sure he didn’t know what Tarn was about to do.
//CHAIN-FLAIL (Ranged / Pulse-shifted Captain)
The crimson flail appeared in his hands. Tarn pointed the tip of the weapon at Narsol and focused on the orc. The ball flew across the chamber, with the jangling chain trailing behind it. As it struck the surprised orc, his eyes went wide as it pulled him back to Tarn and then struck him again. In total, Narsol took 20 AP from the two strikes. Combined with the [DOT] he was already facing, Narsol had only enough AP for one more round.
//NARSOL INITIATIVE
From the look of determination on his face, it was clear Narsol had made the same conclusion. Yet the axe would not allow anything less than pure intentions. The orc held his hands out, as a short wooden pole materialized in his hands. The cubes flew toward the pole, attaching themselves to its end and forming a warhammer.
With a cry of anger, Narsol swung the weapon at Tarn and connected with his side. The air flew from his chest in a huff as pain radiated throughout his body. As his brain tried to catch up with the attack, he struggled to remember if Narsol had even used that attack before. Tarn’s interface showed 20 damage, which was still in line with what he had expected.
Cracks then began to appear within Narsol’s golden pyramid. The entire structure began to tremble as the fractures snaked across its surface. They shattered, sending shards of energy cascading toward Tarn. He took another 30 AP, and to his surprise gained a count of [Bleed] as well.
//INITIATIVE: TARN ARISFAL
Now completely exposed and having only 10 AP left, Narsol glared back at Tarn, chest heaving from exertion.
“If you will not kill me, you cannot beat them.” His voice came in short, shuddering breaths. “I will go to my end knowing I did everything I could. Sacrificed… everything I could. The door must be opened. What will you do?”
Good men defend. They don’t murder. Just as with other doors inside the Axe Dungeon, this one was one-way as well. It would close behind him, and he would forever be on the other side.
Tarn thought of all they had sacrificed to get to this moment, all that was at stake, and all Narsol himself had done to reach this moment.
He held Narsol’s stare and selected [Chain Flail]. Gritting his teeth, he swung the weapon with conviction. As it impacted Narsol’s unprotected form, draining him of the last of his armor and life, he reminded himself what this was for.
To free them all, to beat the Progenitors. No matter the cost.
//DECISION: TARN ARISFAL //BP ADDED
//ACTIVATION CRYSTAL UNLOCKED: BOUND TO TARN ARISFAL
100 BP total. Door activation costs 50 BP for each usage.
You will return.
The blue crystal on the side of the podium shone even brighter, as the remainder of its interior filled with blood. The metal clamps holding it in place released, and it clattered to the stone floor. Narsol crumpled to the ground along with it, blood seeping from his mouth.
The crystal vanished from the stone, only to reappear on Tarn’s belt. Tarn barely noticed as he raced to Narsol’s side. Tarn quickly knelt, raising the orc’s head from the stone. The light in his eyes fading, Narsol looked up at him and smiled, coughing. His limbs were already becoming immaterial, the energies of still-time eating away at his dying gem’s protection.
“This is the cost.” Narsol’s voice sounded ethereal as if his insides were disappearing as well. “The price of what we both wanted. It is best this way. You and I … don’t work well together.”
“I meant what I said,” Tarn leaned closer, wanting the orc to see his conviction. “I’m here to help everyone. I will see it through… make sure this means something.”
“There is something else.” He gasped, his eyes now looking past Tarn. “I was not truthful about. I came to you for—”
Bog was suddenly at their side, the others following behind her. Tarn had not noticed the crimson shield that had separated them coming down, but it was now gone. Bog reached out, attempting to take the orc’s hand, but her fingers passed right through his.
“I-I would have asked you more.” Bog knelt, taking his hand into hers. He was fading faster now, her fingers nearly sliding through his. “I should have.”
“Big Green.” Lash’s voice was calm and peaceful as he sat on Bog’s shoulder. “Sleep now. Rest and have peace.”
“I was not honest with you.” Narsol’s voice was almost a whisper, as his gaze ran to Tarn, then back to Bog. “I made a bargain… came to you to bring back...”
His words became inaudible, and in an eyeblink Bog’s hands were holding nothing but air. They trembled for a moment, then balled into fists.
She looked back at Tarn, confusion and anger running across her face.
“Gone?” Her voice suggested she barely understood the concept. “But I was going to ask him… I – I just needed more time. About the Kai. About the chieftain. Even about my…”
Suddenly an ear-splitting screech filled the chamber. Tarn looked up to see the massive door sliding upwards at great speed, a single sheet of metal fifty feet high that slammed upwards with a thunderous echo. As the ground trembled from the violent opening, the wind from outside pushed into the room. It was warm air, thick with the scents of growth and vegetation. Of the jungles of Ak-Thanon.
For a moment, they all just stared at the opening, a rectangle of moonlight framing the doorway. Then a lone figure ran breathlessly into the chamber, silhouetted and in shadow.
“Narsol?” The voice was male and older. As the orc came closer, Tarn could see the resemblance to the fallen Obelisk. Seeing the gathered group, the orc took a step back and drew a blade.
“Who are you?” His voice was etched with weariness, and his hands shook as he held his weapon. Tarn did not see him as a threat, but rather likely an exhausted victim. But what was he doing here?
“My name’s Tarn.” Tarn stood, making a show of putting his hands up. “We were… with Narsol. Were you waiting for him?”
The orc squinted in the low light.
“Humans? Thorns and vines, the crazy bastard actually did it.” He looked over his shoulder as if he expected the doors to close at any moment. “Too late, of course. That’s my brother for you.”
Brother? Tarn looked down at the empty stone floor where Narsol had been moments ago.
“I am Durmin,” the orc held out his hand. “Narsol sent me to wait for you. Too late or not, we must depart. Death waits for us, both within the axe and without.”