image [https://i.imgur.com/MTtM1YP.jpg]
Scrape—click! Scrape—click! The dead thing dragged its leg behind itself like an anchor.
Since miracles weren’t in my horoscope, I decided to wait this one out. The hallway had a high ceiling, and I could put that to use. I unwound my Dark Room rope from my waist and tossed it into the air. After catching on its invisible tether, the rope dangled like the proverbial lifeline I so desperately needed.
My sanctuary awaited only a short climb away.
The cacowight finished making another rasping sound, and my body numbed. A debuff icon showed on the periphery of my vision.
Debuff
Frozen Blood
-20 Agility
Duration
3 minutes
I could stand, but my body stiffened like cold caramel, and the cacowight grasped at me from only a few yards away. My limbs could barely move, let alone climb. I could not reach the safety of the Dark Room.
This situation kept getting worse.
Remembering how Compression Sphere threw Tardee into the air gave me an idea. Placing a Compression Sphere behind the wight would knock both of us into the trap, but mutual elimination wasn’t a win.
I aligned the Compression Sphere with myself and the office doorway. The white puff of vapor spat me over the trap and into the office. The spell deafened me and whipped my hair, making for an exhilarating ride until I clunked my head on the doorway’s lintel.
Despite the reeling pain, I landed inside the office. My health fell by 40 points, and a headache spun the world around me. Another Dazed icon appeared in my interface—the least of my concerns.
The wight fared better. It blew back the way it came, losing only a few points of falling damage. The monster renewed its pursuit, lurching toward my new location in the office.
I ignored the headache and rolled to my side, breaking the line of sight between myself and the cacowight. It would do me no good to subject myself to more of its spells. I listened to its relentless approach.
Scrape—click! Scrape—click!
I ranted at the advancing creature. “Come on, Adrian. Come a little closer, you drunken, hypocritical snitch—you traitor—you self-poisoning, rotten bag of bones.”
When the undead stepped on the discolored tiles, pellets flew.
I rolled toward the doorway and watched. Because of the barrage of rocks, the monster’s spells weren’t a danger. The cacowight had sustained only 200 damage when it arrived at the doorway. It would reach me with 300 health left, but Frozen Blood compromised my ability to fight.
I opened my interface and spent my only power point on the only spell that could help.
Power (spell)
Rejuvenate (tier 1)
Prerequisites
Light magic rank 8, Rest and Mend
Cost
15 mana
Cooldown
40 seconds
Cast time
Instant
Description
For 10 seconds, the target creature receives 1 point of healing each second for every third rank in light magic. Range 30 yards.
My light magic rank of 15 gave me 5 points of healing every second for 10 seconds, the same amount provided by a minor healing potion. While I needed a heal, I had other plans.
After closing my interface, the pounding of the pellets echoed once again. Instead of healing myself, I targeted the undead creature and cast my new spell. It flailed its arms in fury as the healing energy damaged it, prolonging its journey through the trap.
But the fiend survived the gauntlet of stone projectiles. Since I had four minutes left on my cooldown for Compression Sphere, I used my new robe’s once-per-day ability to refresh its cooldown and placed another airburst between us.
The explosion popped my ears like a passing tornado. Snowflakes of aged parchment dusted the office as the blast catapulted the wight down the hall. As it flew, Rejuvenate’s healing effects trailed behind it like an airplane’s contrail, landing with a crash on the hallway floor. Without hesitation, the monster picked itself up and entered the trap again.
Forty seconds later, I cast Rejuvenate on Adrian while he traversed the hail of pellets. With the combined health losses from the trap and healing, the cacowight succumbed at my feet with arms outstretched across the office threshold.
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Its skull slid to a stop at my feet.
After extending a rigid arm downward, I bonked the decapitated head with my cudgel.
Congratulations!
You are level 8
You have gained 2 levels. You have increased your intelligence by 2, stamina by 2, and willpower by 2. You have received 2 power points. You have 546/650 experience points toward level 9.
I started the encounter only thirteen experience points away from level 7 and leapfrogged into level 8, giving me two unspent power points, plus whatever juicy loot the cacowight carried.
Although sluggish from the agility debuff, I pulled the cacowight’s body from the hallway and found three silver and 40 copper pieces. I found two more items—another worthless cracked core and a potion.
Thanks to my alchemy skill, I identified its contents.
Item
Potion of Invulnerability
Rarity
Rare (yellow)
Description
Potion removes debuffs and adverse effects upon drinking and provides 10 seconds of invulnerability.
The poison Adrian drank must have been so potent he hadn’t had time to use this potion, or it had worked so slowly that he’d gotten too drunk to notice its effects. Either way, this potion belonged to me now. It seemed a shame that invulnerability lasted only a few seconds, but who knows what nasty debuffs I’ll need to clear in the future?
As I waited for my current debuff, Frozen Blood, to fade, I readied myself for my exit. I wasn’t looking forward to this. After Rest and Mend brought me back to full health, I placed another Compression Sphere at my feet, launching myself over the trap. For fun, I cast Rejuvenate, trailing a parabola of sparkles through the air.
The last explosion scattered the cacowight’s bones into the study. Only a few pieces slid into the hallway, as I remembered from first entering the dungeon. After releasing the Dark Room rope from its unseen anchor, I wrapped it around my waist and left.
Returning to steal the time-travel device occurred to me, but it wouldn’t work for two reasons. First, it wasn’t magical anymore. Second, I passed out when I entered the spinning alcove. That must have somehow severed me from the timeline. Even if the device still glowed with magic, I couldn’t carry the alcove, so its effect only applied to this location.
Was I wet, smelly, and filthy? Yes—but I felt like a conqueror. Since no wall of force blocked me, I marched triumphantly up the stairs to the exit. While climbing into the alcove, I positioned my feet where the phantom statue stood and promptly blacked out.
The bright glare of the temple’s entrance woke me on the other side of the wall. With the temple doors wide open, the sun momentarily blinded me. It felt like I’d slept for hours and squinted in the morning light until my eyes adjusted.
Mother Marteen’s voice called to me from a crowd of people below. “Mr. Apache?”
My eyes adjusted to daylight. Disoriented, I regarded Mother Marteen’s questioning look.
A flock of concerned villagers surrounded her. Among them stood Charitybelle and Fabulosa.
I didn’t know what to say. The air explosions inside the filthy dungeon coated my vinegar-soaked body with dust and parchment particles, breading me like a chicken cutlet, ready for the oven.
Charitybelle wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Oh, Patchy! What is that smell?!” She spat out the words as if I were a dog who’d soiled her living room carpet.
Her expression made me laugh.
A few people around me covered their noses.
While getting on my feet, I touched the pontifex and realized the statue wasn’t an illusion anymore but an object of solid white marble. I poked it again to be sure.
Charitybelle’s uncertainty carried over the crowd’s noise behind me. “Are you okay?”
An idea struck. Fishing into my inventory, I plucked out the Band of the Winemaker. While I had nothing in my ring slot, the item served only as a keepsake—a souvenir from facing Adrian the Lame.
But the ring wasn’t mine. Standing to reach the top of the statue, I slipped it over the pontifex’s finger, the one pointing to the sky. The metal band slid to the base of the digit and transmuted into marble. White dust sprinkled down the temple’s floor, and the alcove’s inscription bore a name—Pontifex Tybalt Ashton of Belden.
After balancing the books, I noisily clapped my hands at the new inscription. That’s what I called closure.
While everyone gaped in amazement, I jumped down and approached Mother Marteen—everyone gave me a wide berth as I moved through the crowd and handed over Tybalt’s letter and diary. “A parting gift for you, abbess.”
Fabulosa whispered to my girlfriend. “He’s been acting weird all morning.”
I laughed so hard that the vinegar in my tears stung my eyes.
Paying no heed to the curious stares, I left the temple grounds without another word. My companions followed at a distance.
Charitybelle scrutinized me. “We’re almost late. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, really, I am.”
Charitybelle covered her nose with her hand. “What is that smell?”
“It’s vinegar!”
Charitybelle furrowed her brow. “Oh, um. Okay. The boat is supposed to leave soon. You weren’t at the docks, so we came here. So, why are you covered in vinegar?”
I stopped being coy and gave them the entire story while we walked to the water. They kept their distance.
When we arrived at our boat, a dockworker waved at her face after smelling me. “Oh, that’s just nasty!” She pointed to the river and crossed her arms.
Charitybelle and Fabulosa nodded in agreement.
Obliging everyone, I plopped into the river while the boat prepared to leave, giving me ample time to rinse away the filth and odor. After a thorough rinsing, the vessel cast off.
Riding a flat-bottomed sailing barge pleased me. The crew expected gentle, steady winds to pull us upstream into Basilborough by morning. Charitybelle and I sponged up the local gossip, but Fabulosa wasn’t sociable. She stayed out of everyone’s way, sunning herself on the bow.
Charitybelle spoke in low tones. “I have a hard time getting a read on Fab.”
I turned to her, unsure of how to reply.
“Fab hasn’t talked about the others, and I don’t know if she’s depressed or what. Whenever I ask her how she’s doing, she tells me she’s tired. But I know she’s sad, and I don’t know what to do.”
Charitybelle seemed to want me to get involved, but I wasn’t built that way. I grew up where people didn’t talk about their feelings. As far as I knew, only book and movie characters expressed themselves—usually to move the story. Grown-ups around me dismissed depression, reassuring me I’d get over whatever bothered me. With such role models, I wasn’t sure what to say.
“She had been closer to the others. Maybe she needs time to process things.”
My neutral observation disappointed her, but starting awkward conversations held no appeal. Fabulosa wasn’t talkative, but I didn’t know how to deal with that. I enjoyed her sass, and her aggressive demeanor forced me to improve my game. She would bounce back after we changed scenery.
As the flatboat tacked up the river, its wood-against-wood creaking hypnotized me to slumber. The exertions in the dungeons wore me out, and I needed rest.
Charitybelle woke me for a late supper, which we ate in a small galley. We gorged on bread, fruit, and preserved meats. I divulged a dumbed-down version of my adventure when the crew inquired about my state of arrival. Even with no enemy players aboard, avoiding attention and downplaying my tale about treasure and monsters made sense.
As the day’s winds died, the deckhands unfurled another sail to help propel the craft upstream at night. The Dark Room wasn’t an option on a moving vessel, so we slept on grain sacks. I worried that having dozed all day, I would be awake at night, but the creaking wood and lapping water lulled me to sleep.
The craft glided north.
In the rosy light of morning, we emerged from the musty blankets that the crew provided. Our peaceful interlude on the water ended when we drifted close to a passing dock. The captain adjusted the sails to slow the barge, and we quickly stepped off.
After disembarking on the Grayton River’s leeward bank, we continued toward the rising pink sun. With feet wet from dew, we hiked east into uncharted territory.