The sky was steeped in a tainted moonglow of vermillion and downcast soot. What hellscape awaited on the other side of the great Blythian walls was a mystery to most, but the guards and I knew the truth. Though some remained steadfast in their patrolling, they grumbled and soured thinking about it. Jah'Ir was clearing the farmlands of the locust invasion and the subsequent blight brought upon the crops.
It was a lucky break for the locusts to have arrived a few weeks ago. The blight started a month back and the farmers were steadily working to cull the bad and pick the good. When they had finally finished, the locusts arrived.
I stared from my window, sitting at a desk with a conundrum on my plate. A single runic page with a symbol of fire and earth: flames and rocks. It looked like a campfire. I accepted it because I had to. Was I to say no? He allowed me to work here because of a favor, but that was not to say he didn't want my apprenticeship. He saw that modicum of knowledge I had and tested it everyday.
I looked to the moonglow again, watching the raging inferno flicker behind the gray walls. The city was in dire straits, but not because of the blight or food. The war had taken its toll fully. Depression plagued the streets, fathers and mothers; sons and daughters; they were dying, some in war, others at home.
It was the Blooming—the day that signified my death. I assumed it was. My appearance and the disappearance of the Guild was too coincidental. Even though I appeared a year later there was zero doubt in my mind. It tipped the power of the world, the state of the world was in turmoil at every turn.
Rudol had told me details of the battlefield. He had been to the frontlines several times delivering shipments of runes to the army. It was hell. Bodies left to rot on the dirt, unable to be buried for fear of archers or magic. The people they were fighting: the Dermulde, had taken to booby trapping corpses with explosives.
There was this terror in his eyes when he spoke of the frontlines. When he described the taste of blood in the air, the gaseous and blinding sky, it was as if he were reliving a nightmare. I didn't prod further, but knew it was far worse than he could ever describe.
Some groups had tried to fill the Guild’s shoes in an attempt to balance the world again, but very few people had the power to oppose the players. A select few could, but all of them were kings or great warriors; gods and goddesses. The power vacuum still remained.
Yet, here I sat, staring out at it all with an outside perspective—knowledge of the world and its people. My chest tightened. My fists too. Energy flared in my chest. I slapped the table as hard as I could. I recoiled at the stinging pain, but gritted my teeth. "What am I doing?!"
I succumbed to mediocrity again, taking what came to me, but never searching beyond.
No plans.
No goals.
I picked up the rune and twisted it violently.
Earthblaze Rune [Rejuvenated] — A crafted rune that works as a mobile campfire. Place anywhere on the ground to create a fire. Attaching to an already lit fire source causes an eruption of embers.
Done.
The next morning I woke up early as the suns were barely eclipsing the bastion. For the first time in a long while, I had a plan. I descended the steps and made it halfway to the kitchen before Rudol began to scold me about the noise last night. He changed his tune when I turned over the rune. They were never that difficult for him. The first one I finished was the only true puzzling rune he'd ever encountered. Death runes were seldom used. He still was seemingly shocked I managed to pick up the craft so quickly. It was a simple mechanic in Riptide, but hardly ever used. No one had the time and the events they were useful in couldn’t be prepped for.
"Well good,” he said, “I've a few more for you." He rifled through his coin purse. "But first, pick up some meat from the market—the cheapest you find!"
I tried my best not to scoff as he handed me 2 gold coins. This was more than most at the market would see in a month. Outsourcing to the army paid well it seemed.
I was glad I managed to uncover Blythe's map entirely. It took the entire month I had been here, but it was worth the daily rerouting and investigating. The requirements to unlock a map of an area was still vague, but any person could see that just exploring would unveil it.
As I opened my map I found a blinking dot in front of Rudol's rune shop. It was me. I scrolled up a few streets and found the Guild headquarters. It was three blocks north of me and close to the market.
The menu hovered in front of me, a small arrow guiding me through the streets and past the compact crowds of elders and juveniles.
I couldn't see many of their faces past the menu, but the few I did see were unsettling and reminded me of myself not that long ago.
Empty.
They had lost their sons and daughters; their mothers and fathers. I only knew the latter, but imagined a similar feeling in losing any family that close. It was a grieving pain that was never ending. Fleas nipping at your chest.
The arrow pointed me to an alleyway. I cut through and found myself in another alley. Passing that one I turned into a wide road. It was full of two-story buildings that were covered in wooden boards and graffiti. I felt like I returned to Oarmouth.
Across an old leatherworking shop someone had painted FUCK THE GUILD!
The names of the shops faded out, leaving only a few sporadic letters behind.
One of the boarded up doors had a flier on it. Repossessed by his grace : Duke Norridge.
The wide street curved and led to a rather large and artistically charged building. The Guild headquarters was fashioned out of two frigate ships, minus their masts and flags, stacked perfectly atop one another. It had at least twenty windows and a few cannons that I was sure were disabled.
I was taken aback seeing the building hidden behind the hollowed district and that the bushes and plants were trimmed. Someone was taking decent care of the place. The closer I got I could feel a strange angst in my stomach. The front doors were open, but it was deathly quiet.
I peeked inside and saw a long carpet stretching from the doorway to the end of the room. It was rose colored and depicted a man skewering a devil with his spear. The image was devoid of the blood and guts one would expect from such an injury. I paused and shook my head, recognizing the man. His black cloak and emerald accented flames spelled it out: Coldhart of Nibara. He slew devils by the hundreds, one in particular was a great general—the one on the carpet—who he took as his pet. The people heralded him as a human god.
Most of the story was untrue, merely backstory Stephen Birch conjured in my world, but he had killed demons and he was a warlock. Demons were a constant in their lives.
The windows inside were covered with marigold curtains. Spring colored tapestries adorned the ceiling and it seemed the hardwood floors had never seen a speck of dust in its life. I had become so caught up in the quixotic interior that I didn't notice the unimpressed man sitting at the front desk.
When my eyes met his disinterested gaze he pointed to the archway on his left. "Request board is over there.” He laid a white bottle on the table and a makeup brush. He put a hand out as if waiting for me to hand him something.
"Oh, uh." I paused to look at the request board in the distance. "N-no, I'm here to join?" Had I entered the correct establishment?
He pulled a ledger from under the desk. "I'm not permitted to bring in new members while the Guild Master is out on the front lines." He had more to say, but after looking me over it was clear he knew I wasn't going to refuse. "You can take on jobs as an emissary for us if you sign here."
It felt like the same thing, but I didn't argue with him. He handed me a feathered pen. Whoever had come before me clearly hadn't the time or practice in writing. I found Jah'Ir's name a few rows above. It was chicken scratch, yet somehow fanciful. I signed my name under Garrick Borday’s. He had apparently signed up yesterday.
At least I wasn’t alone in trying to rectify things.
There were hundreds of requests hanging on the board and a few dozen on the ground as well. I reached out to grab a few that ranged from simple housekeeping to burying corpses—a perfect job for someone such as me, but far too suspicious. I stopped upon seeing an elderly man's face staring coldly at me.
King’s Bounty
Manticore
Located in Bore Bog
Reward : 250 Gold
If I wanted to make a difference it started here. Eradicating a manticore was not only an S-rank mission, but the next step—of many—in increasing my strength. My “army” was merely a few miscreants and spiders. With a manticore at the helm I could brute force my way through any altercation.
I returned it to the front desk. The receptionist’s face was a mix of disappointment and sorrow. He must have seen people take on these kinds of jobs and never return.
"North gate.” He sighed. “Find Ban, he'll give you the details."
I nodded and headed out, stopping first, at the market.
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When I returned to the shop with the meat I was met by a small berating dwarf-like man.
"Where 'ave you been?!" He was in a tizzy, organizing runes on the shelves and flipping through hollowed out books. "We've a request from Duke Norridge! 20 chilled water runes for his ice sculptor."
I rolled my eyes.
"We don't have enough ice runes, need you to pick some up from Balmund's Arcana, it's two streets down, can't miss it! Remember!" He was fumbling with coins, thumbing and counting each silver. "Fourteen necro runes and ten ice." He planted the coin in my hands and shoved me to the door. "Go. Go!"
I was far too scrupulous to remain in the workshop any longer. I absconded with a few more coins than he had intended when he fumbled with his coin purse. Balmund's wasn't far and I had the runes in no time. I dropped the runes off at the workshop and left a letter saying I'd return soon enough, with hopefully, a new addition to my team.
I did not inform him of that final part.
I walked up the road to the north gate and handed the bounty to one of the boys attending the gate.
I say boys because unlike the scruffy man I had the displeasure of meeting when first arriving, these two were baby-faced under their silver garbs. The one on left was Nathan; the one on right: Ban.
"Surely he isn't serious," Nathan said.
"You'll do it then?" Ban's eyes lit up, ignoring Nathan's derision. "Ate my dog Robbie."
I saw a few tears welling up and quickly interjected. "I'll bring its tooth as evidence."
The gate was slowly opening as we spoke.
"Bring his colla' back if you find it, you hear?"
I averted my gaze and rocked gently back and forth. I hadn't been this uncomfortable in a while. I couldn't bear seeing someone cry. It was... annoying. Not for the reason you think. I just hated not being able to help.
"Most importantly, stay safe." Ban placed a hand, or well, a hefty gauntlet on my shoulder. “Follow the road, you’ll see the signs."
"How do you plan on even killing the beast?" Nathan asked, but wasn't looking for an answer.
"Runes," I simply said and headed out the gate. I didn't have any runes with me, but if I needed a cover I had the perfect one. Rudol was known to supply the military with runes, he was bound to have some powerful enough to blow the beast into smithereens.
I assumed no one was brave enough or willing to lose their life to kill the manticore. They were vicious creatures. Uncanny. They bore the face of a man, the body of a lion and the sharp stinger of a scorpion. They were no trifling matter. Even amongst these massive cities, entire battalions would be called upon to deal with a single one. Given the war, it was unlikely anyone in the city could deal with it. Jah’Ir himself would struggle to land a fireball, let alone, throw one.
So what chance would a necromancer like me have?
Well I'll tell you. An infinite pool of expendable allies.
Numbers reign supreme. The manticore could maim or turn Billy into a paste for all I care; I would still be able to revive him. Vuldan could be eaten and I’d have him regurgitated. Unlike needing some fragment of a soul to initially resurrect a creature, when you had their soul it was yours for eternity. I had the means of killing the beast ten times over. Genta alone could infuse the manticore’s very blood with venom and turn it into a gooey carcass. That would be impossible for me to resurrect.
The flux of their fangs spread an acidic taste in my mind.
"Patience,” I said.
The two spiders were rattling in their boxes. Not actually, but there was a tether connecting us in the most subtle of ways. I could feel their urge. Their yearning.
I followed the signs as Ban said. Each one was more sensational than the last. From a simple: Beware! to a dramatic: DEATH BEYOND! Not that it wasn’t warranted. The roads were empty this time of day. Most of the migrants and foreign traders passed through in the morning. But there had been less coming through with each passing week.
By this point the city was a mock-up. I could grab it entirely in my hand if I wanted. "Squish." I squeezed my thumb and index together.
I took another step and almost tumbled. Another sign, this one fallen, had nearly taken me out.
DO NOT PASS
DEATH : IMMINENT
MANTICORE BEYOND
It was slightly buried in the earth and covered in drawn skulls. Deep claw marks shredded part of the sign and left a nice artistic signature.
"It appears it can read," I said.
I sat down by the sign for a small while, resting my burning calves and numbing feet. The great hills behind me covered up much of Blythe, allowing only a few sharp spires to ascend past. Had I told you there was a massive citadel beyond the hillside, safeguarded by dreary gray-brick walls and filled by morose people... well, I doubt you'd be as enticed as if I had told you of the sanctuary it could be in a terror-filled world like this.
I looked over the wild flowers for a few minutes and managed to gain some energy back. With a certainty that no one was around I summoned forth my comrades. All four of them took their time to resurrect and cracked their bones respectively. It was a frequent event that I wish they'd get on with, but waking the living dead was no easier than waking your middle-aged father.
I had them walk ahead as we approached the bog. The road had ended its direct human connection, being of dirt and no longer cobblestone. The further we went, the more my body and clothing assimilated. Humidity was an issue I hoped to one day be free of, but as my journey continued, it was clear I wouldn't be without it. I swapped out my everyday clothes and changed into my favorite, itchy as hell, robe. The trees were no longer the gentle mask that kept the sunlight away, instead they acted as a mesh with no fine crafting. The light was irritant, knowing exactly when and where to shine at my eyes. As beautiful weeping willows were, I could curse their existence just as much.
I diverged from the road in an effort to avoid the light and found my foot stuck in a deep gelatinous pile of mud and algae. Vuldan pulled me loose, but in the exchange my shoe was left behind. I had him dig it out and we washed it, in a small pool of water. I noticed that all the pools of water were just below the trees and were full of mushrooms. I had Gent and Genta scout ahead and knelt down by the pool.
Russula claroflava — A mild tasting mushroom. It gives the user a slight boost to their mood.
There was nothing about psychedelic side effects, yet I hesitated with the cap in my hand. I wasn't a fan of mushrooms to begin with, but a test was required. I snapped a bit off. It was chewy, but firm. I spat it out, but felt slightly more upbeat.
“Huh." I pointed to Billy and Vuldan. "Gather as many of those shrooms as you can.”
I tried climbing the willow tree, but found it more difficult than I imagined, especially one shoe down. I remembered climbing to be easy when I was a kid. Eventually I found a tree with a low hanging branch and found my way to the top. I began to pool my mana through the tree, down, into the earth. The tethered strings flowed out a few yards out in each direction, but quickly fizzled out. I wasn't surprised. Manticores engorged on their prey, leaving not a morsel left. Without my scouting ability it was up to the arachnid duo.
After becoming a couple hundred mushrooms richer and putting on my slightly dried shoe, I heard a skittering on the bark behind me. Genta stared into my soul. A flood of information clawed into my brain, as if I had experienced and done all that she had. The bog was covered in web traps, big enough to annoy the beast and wide enough to let any rabbits or smaller rodents pass through unhindered. There were a few mounds and tunnels around as well, none large enough to have been made by the manticore. They were known to dwell in large underground lairs at times.
"Good job." I patted Genta's carapace. She closed her eyes and bent her legs, almost like she were kneeling. "Now we wait."
No one ever tells you how painful it is to rest on a tree. Its not the constant teetering or the stiffness of the tree against your back. It's the pain on your balls. My ass wept equally, but the cloak acted as a dampener to the pain both were receiving. Perhaps no one tells you this because its obvious, but god did it ache. It was like resting in a luxurious hotel under warm sunlight, the fresh tree scent—excusing the putrid swamp smell that frequented—and feeling a frequent breeze, but then your bed was a stone slab with small thorns.
"Movement boss," Vuldan said.
I had never been happier for death to be close by. I sat up and heard a distant rumbling barely within earshot.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The forest howled as the winds picked up. The fresh smell of sap and willow vines was drowned out by the putrid odor of decaying flesh and the still swamp.
Gent made his appearance next to Genta and awaited the beast.
The thumping grew even louder. Leaves spilled across the air, blinding me to the ground. As the final leaves touched the dirt the wind died down.
No one made a sound. No one moved.
Two paws protruded from a large bush and close behind it was the face of the beast. It was hideous and horrifyingly human. I could easily have mistaken it for an old man if not for the blood and dirt filling its wrinkly face.
"Billy." I commanded him forth. It was time to test his ability.
The barbarian stepped and corkscrewed his body, club in hand. His body unfurled. The speed of his strike rippled the earth and sent a torrent at the manticore. It shrieked like a banshee, blurring my vision. It tore through the visage it stood behind and launched at Billy. It swiped. The barbarian flew back into a tree. Vuldan flanked the beast and gouged its hind with his axe. Blood gushed across his face. He went to swing again, but was impaled by the stinger. The beast flailed and slammed him to the dirt.
In its blind spot Gent and Genta synchronized their pounces. The beast tried to shake them off but they both bit down. The yellow color was already spreading across its nape.
"Yes!" I exclaimed, hushed.
My cheers were too early it seemed. The manticore managed to catch both Gent and Genta in its stinger, turning them into a kabob. Their legs wriggled frantically then stopped as they succumbed to their deaths. My heart sank, but I quickly worked on Billy and Vuldan. Billy slowly rose to his feet. He had a hole in his stomach, but I sealed it back up. Vuldan rose to his feet, a bone sucking back into his leg.
The manticore disposed of the spiders, flinging them to the floor. They quickly rose again to their feet. The manticore, without the mind for it, somehow seemed confused.
I wanted to deal with the manticore without utilizing Necrotic Rage, but it was clear that the beast had too much resilience to chance it. It had to die now. I just hoped they didn’t do any irreparable damage.
They all began to contort. The spiders' carapace grew thick and their fangs sharpened. Needles of hair sprouted from their hardened legs.
Vuldan was now a rabid jackal in human form. His back arched forward, he produced saliva dripping fangs from his forced open maw.
Billy seemed to just grow in muscle. His arms were a full foot thicker in diameter.
Vuldan's arm slung back and in a swift motion, sent the axe flying into the beast's skull. The manticore was quick, deflecting the blade. It hadn't expected Vuldan behind the weapon. He launched onto its back, digging jagged nails into its nape. Gent and Genta jumped onto the beast as well. They sunk their fangs into its spine.
The manticore flailed its tail and jabbed at the spiders. Unfortunately, Billy lie in wait. He gripped the handle of his club and cracked its skull.
It raised a paw to fight back. Vuldan tore at its face. It tried to roll on its side. Billy laid into its stomach. Vuldan wrestled it down, strangling and tearing at its face with his teeth. The beast met its match and I watched joyously as Billy reared up with a final hit.
In one strike. Two gripped hands on a stone club. The end of the bat found its resting place between the Manticore's eyes. Bone shattered and blood spurted across Billy's face.
The manticore fell.
I descended the weeping willow and walked past my followers. They were shaking violently as the effects began to wear off. Their extra features faded.
"Well done," I said and knelt down by the beast, grabbing Vuldan’s axe.
Manticore — Dead
"I can see that." I cut into the manticore's mouth and pulled a single, now bloodied, canine.
I sat down to focus. “Now for the actual work.”