Hermera
The 7th of Mounichion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
Arche opened his senses and cast his awareness outward, past the confines of his own mind, and felt the consciousness of each living creature around him. The Sylv thrummed with life. Insects lit up like clouds of phosphorescent light, their minds too simple to properly feel. Beasts were easier to distinguish. The snuffling badger, the cautious deer, the quiet fox. Each distinct and identifiable. Brighter and more complex were the minds of his group members.
Helwan Panysk was closest to him, a mage, musician, and megaloscholar. The satyr had proven himself a steadfast friend, a wealth of knowledge, and a poor combatant. His knowledge of antiquities and the arcane was second to none in Myriatos. While the goat-man was blessed with gifts of magic, he had little fighting experience and was incredibly anxious in such situations. Still, he had volunteered to come along and hadn’t backed down when reminded of the dangers.
Behind Helwan was a young, human man named Basil Meneres, a guardsman and professed Warrior who had jumped at the chance to go adventuring. Warrior was a common-tier profession, making it one of the easiest to obtain, but what it lacked in flair it made up for in reliability. Arche didn’t know much about Basil, but he looked forward to seeing what the lad could do.
After Basil was another relative stranger, a woman named Cora. She was a half-elf with pale, blue-tinged skin reminiscent of the sky. She was also a professed Ranger, which was odd as she had come from the city of Ship’s Shape, but Arche was glad to have her skills onboard. Ranger was an uncommon-tier Profession that Arche hadn’t yet encountered. His best understanding was that it gave bonuses to archery and wilderness survival.
The last member of their group was Tess, a professed Rogue. Rogue was also a common-tier Profession, but Tess had proven herself time and time again incredibly capable. Arche had been initially against her joining them but Tess had been firm, stating something about him being liable to get himself killed otherwise and refused to hear his arguments about how that was ‘only one time’ and how he’d ‘only been mostly dead.’
“It’s all clear ahead,” Arche said. “No monsters.”
“I still want to know how you know,” Cora grumbled.
When they set out, she’d been excited to show off her woodsman skills for the group and since been disappointed to learn that Arche was far more capable than she was at detecting nearby creatures. He’d neglected to mention he was Psychic, a Trait he had discovered two weeks prior in the bowels of a dungeon known as Hekáte’s Vivitorium. Traits were a closely guarded secret by all who held them, as other Trait-bearers tended to seek out and kill one another in hopes of gaining the victim’s Traits. Arche was more than happy to let the others think he simply had an incredibly high Perception. The only current traveling companion who knew the truth was Tess, who had been key to discovering the Trait in the first place.
“Trade secret, I’m afraid,” Arche said. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Cora gave Arche a startled look and he snorted.
“I’m just fucking with you.”
“The moment you try, you will find yourself a dead man,” she snarled, indignation coloring her cheeks a deep shade of blue.
Arche’s chuckle turned into a sigh.
“Not literally. I’m just joking with you is what I meant.”
“I do not appreciate it.”
“Duly noted.”
He turned his attention back to the forest and their surroundings, wishing, not for the first time, that Lyssa was with him. She understood him. Or, at the very least, she didn’t look at him like he’d grown another head whenever he made a joke.
Lyssa was the first person Arche had met in Tartarus and had very nearly been the last. She’d saved him from a wolf attack, decided he was harmless enough to bring into her village, Dawnwood, and introduced him to her father, Lord Cypress, who bestowed a quest to help her investigate an evil presence just outside their territory. That investigation had turned up the entrance to an ancient dwarven ruin and they’d found traces of necromancy. Specifically, several undead who tried at length to kill them.
Those ruins were the same dungeon where Arche first met Helwan. It was also where he’d found the magic spear he now carried with him, the Tridory, among an enormous pile of dwarven treasure, guarded by a nearly indestructible creature called a revenant.
As the village of Myriatos’s new archousa, Lyssa had been forced to stay behind and, with the help of Theodorous, get the village up and running. Part of those administrative issues were that they were quickly running out of money and needed a new influx of funds. Arche and Tess were to make a mercantile trip to Ship’s Shape to gain coin and supplies, which meant they needed products to sell.
Hence, ancient dwarven treasure.
They’d gathered some the last time they delved into the ruins, but mountains of golden artifacts still remained. Some were, no doubt, magical. Arche still wore the ruby ring he’d found there, which gave him five extra attribute points to both his Endurance and Fortitude. It was a hefty bump, two levels’ worth, that helped keep him alive.
Arche would have been happier to make the trip alone but Lyssa wouldn’t hear of it. She argued that more people were necessary, not only for safety’s sake, but to carry back the treasure. He didn’t put up much of a fight and, even if he had, it was Lyssa’s call. His job within the village was to conduct operations like this one: dungeon-clearing, threat elimination, and treasure hunting. He’d been given leave to assemble his own unit to that end but, in the two days he’d had to prepare, there hadn’t been time to vet anyone. Similarly, Gigator, the giant lizard-man who’d been promoted to Captain of the Guard, had not had the time to establish a proper training regimen for the village guards. Arche had taken one guard and one hunter out of Gigator’s recommendation but, in truth, he was hoping they didn’t encounter much difficulty. The last fight he gotten himself into, he’d died, and that memory still dogged his nightmares on the rare occasions he slipped off to sleep.
They’d traveled through the forest for eight days in total, having to skirt around the edges of Dawnwood to reach the ruins, which lay northwest of the wood elf territory. Myriatos lay to Dawnwood’s east, nestled in a large valley at the base of Mount Hyperion. Arche had spent the better part of a day with Lyssa, going over the location of the dwarven ruins and the best route to travel there. Lyssa was intimately familiar with the layout of the Dawnwood, but only partially aware of the Sylv, the dark forest that formed much of the region known as the Forest of Mycenaea. Monsters roamed deep in the woods and some stories said even the trees would gather their roots and move from time to time, making it impossible to keep consistent maps as landmarks could shift and disappear. Still, the Huntress’s high skill in navigating the wilderness meant that, even secondhand, she could guide them to the right course.
Arche had sketched out a map according to her instructions. It was a crude map, as per the creation notice when he had finished it, but it served its purpose. The journey there would take eight days if they pushed themselves, cutting as close to Dawnwood’s territory as they dared to prevent attracting monsters. Dawnwood was fiercely policed by the wood elves from Lyssa’s former tribe and they would not accept an incursion by armed outsiders into their lands. This was a point Lyssa had fervently warned them about. They may go near the Dawnwood, but not into it.
The journey had actually been pleasant. Between the four of them, they had scared away solo predators out looking for an easy meal and no monsters had ambushed them. They’d prepared four weeks of rations before they’d left, but Arche and Cora still spent at least two hours each evening hunting. This served the dual purpose of keeping their food stores full as well as improving Arche’s Stealth and Archery skills, both of which had reached Level Fifteen. Sadly, the experience that the prey animals offered was pitiful in comparison to the beastmar Arche had grown used to fighting and, despite his success, he’d only gained about fifty experience.
“We’re not far out,” Arche said. “Be careful. Last time there were undead strewn about the entrance. Who knows what’s waiting for us now.”
“A revenant, presumably,” Helwan muttered darkly.
“You just let me worry about that,” Arche replied. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see me.”
“We’ve all heard the stories,” Basil said, looking at Arche with a mixture of curiosity and awe. “It’s all anyone talks about these days. But the stories don’t explain how you do these things.”
Arche eyed the guardsman. Basil was nineteen or twenty, practically a child, but what he lacked in experience—both figurative and literal—he made up for with the infectious enthusiasm that was only achieved by the young.
“Keep a close eye and you might find out.” Arche winked.
“Don’t mess with his head,” Tess warned. “He’s impressionable enough to believe you.”
Arche placed one hand on his chest in mock outrage.
“Me? Impression? I would never!”
Tess rolled her eyes and addressed Basil.
“If you must know, he tends to barrel through every situation with all the grace and planning of a minotauros. Then, for some reason, things tend to work out in his favor. Mostly.”
“Luck has more to do with it than anything else.” Arche grinned. “And we do plan, things just always go sideways. Sometimes off a cliff. Literally!”
“If you’re done bragging, we’ve arrived,” Cora said, pointing ahead of her.
Thirty paces away sat a large hole in the ground. Helwan shifted uneasily, casting nervous glances at the woods around them. Arche raised an eyebrow at the satyr.
“This place isn’t exactly a reliquary of pleasant memories for me.”
“Oh, I agree with that,” Arche replied. “But you did volunteer to come.”
“I wanted a chance to study that door in more detail. Perhaps take some rubbings. We might learn something.”
“Don’t look at me, I’m not judging you.”
“Shall I wait here while you check the area?” Helwan asked.
“Don’t worry, Helly,” Tess said. “I’ll keep you company,”
Arche caught Helwan’s eye and mouthed ‘Helly’ with a curious grin. The satyr turned bright pink, his horse-like ears folding straight back against his head. Tess made a shooing motion with one hand.
“Go on, go check out the area. We’ll be along shortly.”
Arche adjusted a pauldron and hefted the Tridory. He was still getting used to his new armor. It was made of the hide of a mantikhoras that Tess had lured to kill him during their first meeting. The incident made him smile, now, as it had resulted in them getting to know each other. It was also a pretty big upgrade to his old duds.
Reinforced Mantikhoras Hide Breastplate
Rarity: Uncommon
Quality: Excellent
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Defense: 20
Durability: 75 / 75
Weight: 8 kilograms
Comfort: Good-Fit
Armor Type: Medium (-5% Mobility)
Traits (Full Set required): +10% Stealth in Plains and Deserts, +20% Poison/Venom Resistance
Set Piece: 1/4
He also had pauldrons, vambraces, and greaves to round out the set, which slowed him down but offered him much better protection than his old gear. He hadn’t really had an opportunity to level his Medium Armor skill, though he had gained it when, while showing off his new armor to Lyssa, she’d kicked him in the chest hard enough to send him flying. That was apparently enough to jumpstart the skill, which told him that each level would improve the defense that medium armor provided as well as allow him more mobility with it. As it was, wearing his full set cut his movement speed down by twenty percent. He would need to reach the Proficient rank, Level Forty, to remove that debuff, which meant taking a lot of hits.
Arche approached the entrance to the dwarven ruins, the Tridory leveled in front of him. Cora covered his advance with her bow while Basil circled to the left. Nothing popped up at him, to his relief, as he approached the hole and peered inside. Interminable darkness met him. He stared at it, wishing he had some form of night vision. Nothing moved, so he turned back and gave a thumbs up. Basil and Cora approached, still keeping an eye on the trees around them. Tess and Helwan followed a few moments later.
“There should be a platform somewhere around here.” Arche gestured to one side of the hole. “We can tie off a rope and climb down. There’s water at the bottom, too, so be careful.”
Basil produced a coiled rope from his inventory and wrapped it around a tree. Arche nodded his appreciation and kept talking.
“Last time we were here, there were undead and arachtaurs, but I don’t know if anything new moved in. Everyone should be on their—”
Something wrapped around Arche’s leg and yanked him off his feet. He let out a yelp, then the top half of his body slammed into the ground as the thing dragged him toward the hole. The impact knocked the Tridory from his hand, then he was over the lip and into darkness. Arche twisted, trying to get a look at what held him. Some sort of large, wet tentacle had snaked around his leg. The water met him a moment later.
Panic set in and, against his better judgment, the last of his breath came out in a garbled, underwater scream. He thrashed, struggling against the strange creature and his own fear. His fingers pawed at the sword on his hip, thick and clumsy. Already, his chest felt tight. The need to take a breath was overwhelming, but the monster held him fast. Sword finally in hand, he tried to swing it, but the water resisted him, making him slow and weak. The tentacle around his leg dragged him even deeper underwater. Arche dug the tip of his sword into the gap between it and his leg, working the blade side to side.
Pain lanced through him as he cut into his own thigh, but the pressure around his leg slackened and he was free. Before he had a chance to swim to the surface, something grabbed his sword hand and yanked him down again. Arche coughed and took a breath of water. The pressure in his chest and head built to bursting as his nose and mouth filled. Terror was in full swing. The need for air was all-consuming.
He activated Divine Body.
Light poured from his skin like a sun in the blackness of the watery depths. With everything bathed in orange glow, he could finally see what had attacked him. Thick green vines wrapped around his arm, pulling him toward a pile of bones and moss. To make matters worse, the pile was moving. Skeletons, overgrown with moss and held together by tendrils of vines, turned toward him, wielding rusted swords and axes.
With the increased strength his skill gave him, Arche snapped the vines holding him in place and kicked toward the life-giving air above. Every motion propelled him at frightening speed and he launched out over the surface and onto the small platform that led deeper into the dungeon. He released his skill as he gasped for air, plunging him once more into darkness. Just that short activation had brought his Mana down to forty percent. Water forced its way up and out of his lungs as he coughed and retched, clutching at his throat and stomach.
“Arche!” Tess’s voice called out from above, full of worry.
Arche tried to respond but only succeeded in spewing more water. A moment later, a small orb of yellow light floated down. No idea where it’d come from but it lit the area and wasn’t outright hostile, so Arche decided not to look the gift-horse in the mouth and picked himself off the ground. The first of the plant-infected skeletons clambered out of the water and approached him, sword drawn. Its movements were stilted and unnatural, as though the vines controlling them were unsure how bipedal movement worked. As it came close, some of the vines unwove and waved in the air, like snakes about to strike.
Arche stumbled back into the tunnel, trying to create space between himself and the undead. He fished through his inventory for a new addition to his arsenal, one that he had forced himself to buy when he was still in Myriatos. A couple moments later, a round shield appeared on his left arm.
He’d yet to test it in battle, but there was nothing like trial by fire. Or, rather, trial by water. Shield raised defensively in front of him, Arche advanced. The skeleton lunged awkwardly, its body seemingly pulled forward by the sword in its bony, vine-covered hand. Arche deflected the sword to the side with his shield, triggering the flashing symbol in the corner of his vision that marked a new notification. He ignored it as the vines of the creature reached out, trying to grab hold of his shield.
Arche had expected the move and raked his sword across the metal, slicing through several tendrils. The vines recoiled, as though in pain. Going on the offensive, he bashed outward, trying to throw the skeleton off balance, then hacked at its rib cage. The vines writhed and shriveled as the skeleton stumbled. Arche pressed the attack, striking out with the shield again and finally succeeded in knocking the undead over. Arche brought the sword down onto the vines, severing a large knot of them where a heart should be. As the knot tore, the skeleton went limp.
Arche looked up as three more skeletons crawled their way onto the platform, two wielding axes and one a spear.
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”
Arche sheathed his sword and held out his right hand, drawing on his connection to the Tridory. He felt a strain on the connection as the spear flew toward him. It came not down the opening, as he expected, but through the tunnel ceiling, burrowing a hole straight through the ground to reach him. Regardless, the haft slammed into his hand, covered in mud and ready to use.
Arche leveled the tip of the spear at the shambling skeletons, resting the edge against the top of his shield, then pressed a button on the haft. The spearhead split in two, forming a bident. He snarled at the skeletons, but they only stared back with vacant grins.
The skeleton wielding a spear lunged forward awkwardly, pulled by vines wrapped around the spear itself . Arche batted the spear to the side with his shield and riposted with the Tridory. The prongs of the bident pierced the skeleton’s rib cage to either side of its sternum. With the press of a button, the prongs snapped back together to form a single-pointed spear, slicing through bone and vine with ease. The skeleton lost form and tumbled to the ground with a clatter.
The other two vine-skeletons were not far behind. They swung their axes, forcing him back. They were neither skilled nor smooth in their movements, but they uncannily synchronized their attacks. Arche pressed another button on the Tridory and hurled it forward, the single spearhead separated into the three prongs of a trident. It punched into one skeleton, the weight flinging it back as Arche charged the other. He caught an axe blow on the shield and pushed it out of the way, then struck forward with the hard, metal edge, cracking the skeleton’s sternum.
The undead shuddered and lost its grip on the axe. Arche caught the weapon before it hit the ground and twisted, swinging it around in a wicked chop. The rusted edge cracked bones instead of biting into them. After two more swings, he’d broken enough ribs to reveal the matted knot of vines inside. With a heavy downward strike, he buried the axe into the writhing mass. The tendrils went taut, then limp as its life faded. Arche wrenched the axe free and threw it at the final skeleton.
It was a bad throw, the flat of the axe clattering against the skeleton’s bony arm, but the weight of the weapon knocked it off balance. With his hand now free, Arche called the Tridory to himself, dragging the skeleton along with it as it flew. Arche caught the haft and pressed a button, snapping the tines of the trident together and neatly bisecting the skeleton’s vineheart and spine. He brought the Tridory down on the plant mass three more times before he was satisfied, gouging deep cuts into the stone below.
Something landed on the platform with a crunch. Arche raised the Tridory to strike, then realized it was Basil.
“Shit, dude, you ok?” Arche called out.
A muffled groan was all the response he got. He ran over, reaching the prone Warrior just as a long, thick tendril broke through the surface of the water. Arche cried out and jumped forward, trying to interpose himself between the two. The vine completely ignored Basil and wrapped itself around the Tridory. It wrenched the spear from Arche’s grip and disappeared beneath the water.
Arche tried to summon the Tridory back to him, but his connection with the spear felt more strained than it ever had. The vines had a strong grip. Arche put all of his Willpower into the summoning. His Mana dropped precipitously, but nothing happened. Blood dripped from his nose, splattering against the water, but still the Tridory didn’t appear.
“Fuck.” Arche let go of the summoning and wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He turned to Basil. “You ok?”
“Yeah, I stunned myself,” the young guardsman said. “I came down to help you, but I slipped.”
“Sit tight. I’m going to get my spear back.”
Arche drew his sword, stowed the shield in his inventory, too bulky to be of use, then dove into the dark water. The cold fear of drowning seized him again. Arche swore silently at himself as his limbs thrashed in the murk, fighting to get himself under control. Reckless and foolish, once again. He should have waited for the others, come up with a plan. Too late for that now. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up the Tridory to whatever mass of sapient plant life lived down there. He forced the fear to the back of his mind and erected bars around it, keeping it caged and quiet. It was not the time for fear, it was the time for violence.
The weight and bulk of his armor dragged him down, further into the depths. The pool was deeper than he would have expected, easily three or four times his height. The flare of light above him had also descended into the depths, no doubt by Helwan’s command, and let him see exactly what he was up against.
A pulsating, writhing mass of vines knotted together in a massive ball-like shape, easily several times larger than he was. Trapped inside its twists and curves were a mass of bodies, weaponry, and debris. Some of the corpses were humanoid, arms and legs twisting out in various states of decay, but most of the bodies were animals that had likely ventured too near the entrance and been snatched up. The whole thing recoiled from the light, shuddering. Arche took the opportunity to see what he was up against, activating his Examine skill.
Gourdian Knot
Level: 34
Race: Gourdian Knot
Age: ?
Height: ?
Weight: ?
Profession: ?
Trade: ?
Traits: ?
Companions: ?
Adventuring Party: ?
Health: 1,284 / 1,450
89%
Stamina: 947 / 1,330
71%
Mana: 40 / 40
100%
Arche tightened his grip on his weapon. Numbers were important in Tartarus, but they weren’t everything. On paper, the Gourdian Knot had a clear advantage, but Arche had a few things the Knot didn’t. Grit, determination, and a sword.
Arche slashed at the knot, putting several deep gouges into the vines that formed the creature, but it was like trying to saw at a massive, wet rope with a small knife. He was doing damage but it was too slow. He was going to run out of air before he did anything of consequence.
It was time to switch tactics. He brought the sword down again, activating both Divine Body and the only sword maneuver he knew, Power Attack. The difference was undeniable. The Knot split wide open, revealing even more writhing vine tentacles within, but it came at a price. The blade snapped. Arche flinched and stopped channeling Divine Body, trying to figure out what to do next. His Mana was just under twenty percent and his thoughts were growing sluggish.
He risked Mana Burnout if his Mana bottomed out, which was a death sentence underwater. He was without a weapon and the creature’s flailing vines surrounded him. Whatever fear or discomfort it had of Helwan’s light, it was clearly angrier at the damage he had caused and looking to get revenge. Vines wrapped around his wrists and ankles, dragging him into the open wound. Arche struggled, but it had him. He was completely enveloped.
The vines snaked up his legs and across his torso, around his throat, crushing the air and life out of him. With a desperate thought, Arche called the Tridory, but met the same resistance. The Gourdian Knot was too strong. The vines threatened to break his bones and pull him apart. The muscles in his shoulders and back tore as the creature pressed down on him, seeking to quarter him. He was out of other options.
Divine Body flared to life once more and Arche redoubled his efforts. Orange light burst from his every pore and the Gourdian Knot recoiled, its grip growing slack. As he pulled against it, tendrils snapped and fell away. The few vines left tried to wrench him free but it had made a fatal error. Arche was inside of the creature, now; it couldn’t get away from him. He reached into the Knot’s vineheart, grabbed hold of as much as he could and tore it apart as he wormed his way deeper and deeper into the creature.
With pressure squeezing his head and lungs, low on Mana and air, he reached a central root system that had grown to encompass several skeletons. He was out of time. He had a scant couple seconds of Divine Body left before his Mana gave out and he would drown. Arche tore at the roots with his fingers, destroying everything he could touch. The Gourdian Knot writhed and twisted, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop him in his current state. As the last roots pulled away, the vines shuddered and went limp.
Arche whirled, looking for more danger. Nothing moved. The Tridory was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t surprising. Now that the creature was dead, it wouldn’t be difficult to retrieve it through the usual method. What mattered was getting out.
Searing pain shot through Arche’s entire body and the light went out. His Mana hit zero and Divine Body deactivated itself. At the same time, he inhaled sharply, drawing in a lungful of murky water. Arche gagged and spewed sick. The shock was too much for his system and darkness came to claim him even as golden light flashed.