Pausing at the edge of the roof I caught my first proper sight of the surreal district spread out beneath me. Very few noble manors still stood. Many of them had been reduced to ash and timber with massive blazing bonfires set at their centers.
There were several slow moving shapes amidst the ruins and I recognized the twisted figures as the Priests of Pain that had so casually batted me across the cemetery at the ambush near Vertcollin. There was only a single patrol besides the Priests and it looked like two robed casters and a group of six regular armored cultists.
As I surveyed the various structures that still stood I muttered to myself, “You know what would even this out, Mal,” my eyes picked out two major structures that were obviously the domain of the cultists. One was heavily guarded and had a marshaling yard that had signs of recent use. A number of massive black and red flags with the sigil of the Cult hung from each of its balconies.
When my eyes settled on the manor beside it I finished my sentence with a sigh, “We need a pint-sized psycho vampire lady, who may or may not kill us on sight and,” I smiled as I finished the thought, “a muscle bound noblewoman.”
The cult had gone to great efforts to boost this building’s defenses, but it seemed distinctly developed to keep people in rather than out. There were towers at the corners that had stationed guards who spent the majority of their time looking in, honest fucking razor wire on top of its spiked stone walls, and far more active guards.
A prison.
Summoning a looted cultist tabard from my inventory, I slipped it on. Even though carrying a weapon poisonous to me out of my inventory made me uncomfortable I pulled a silver tipped spear out and grimaced at its baleful point. Putting my cloak away I added one that complimented my tabard.
Throwing it over my shoulders, I surveyed my form, and then casually jumped off the wall. Before I reached the ground I burst into a blood mist, and reformed with my feet lightly touching the ground without sound. Glancing around to assure that I had not been seen, I smoothed my tabard before starting toward the prison.
The streets of the district were not as debris strewn as I once thought. There had been some care taken to assure that it appeared well-kept. My best guess was that the massive bonfires that I passed were both votive and warning to what nobles remained in the district.
Emerging from a sidestreet onto a large avenue I found myself about to pass the patrol I had seen from the wall. The lead cultists carried their torches high and marched toward me with purpose. Time to see if all those points in Charm counted for anything. Without breaking stride I started toward them. As I got within ten meters a robed woman approached me carrying her own flame topped staff and inquired, “Why are you out in the district without an escort?”
"My commanding officer on the wall wished me to convey a message to the prison,” I said as I stood straight and offered a salute I had often seen members of the Immolated Order use.
She eyed me with slight skepticism and said, “May I see this message?”
“I am sorry, I was told to maintain operational security and deliver the message to only one man.”
The woman’s face softened and she studied me for a long moment before inquiring with interest, “I haven’t met you before. Are you fresh from the lands below?”
“This assignment has been somewhat overwhelming. My faith keeps me strong, but the guiding hand of a superior officer would be sure to keep me steady,” I said with a smile and a nod.
The robed priest leaned close to me and whispered, “Six bells at the officer’s quarters, we can have a drink and discuss your place here.”
Behind her one of her troopers rolled his eyes.
“I am getting more and more sure that I’m going to enjoy my position here,” I said with a slight conspiratorial smile.
The priestess returned a smug grin that quickly faded as she looked over her shoulder, “March! We have the southwest to patrol before we rest our watch.”
Continuing onward toward the prison I didn't even glance back at the departing patrol. Before long I emerged onto the avenue where the main forces of the cult and the prison were located. Further down the lane I saw the nine foot tall form of one of the Priests of Pain lumbering down the street away from me.
Studying the walls and towers of the prison, I shrugged and nodded, “I think it's time to switch to the direct approach.”
I waited for the guard in the tower nearest to me to turn and look into the grounds of the noble house turned prison and sprinted across the open lane toward it. Bounding up the outside wall, I reached the wire strewn top, burst into mist, and floated inside with the bleary eyed guard. Before he could turn I materialized and dropped onto him, activating Surge to slow time.
Before time resumed I had cut the man’s throat and driven one of the Sisters up into his lungs to stifle a cry for help. Carefully bringing him to the ground I looted him. His equipment was much the same as the cultists we had slaughtered on the walls except the addition of a wooden whistle.
Below me I spied a patrol of two guards trudging through the prison yard. One of them looked up and waved at me. Still in the garb of one of his people and obscured by one of the nearby torches I waved back, and the guards went on their way without raising an alarm.
Studying the old manor house, I took note of its features and potential dangers. There was a guard at the building's double doors and all of the windows were barred. The makeshift prison had three chimneys that all were sending plumes of smoke out into the night air. Eyeing a second floor balcony I made up my mind for that to be my point of entry. The door was likely locked, but Blood Mist would bypass it easily.
Considering the body of my victim, and glancing toward the other towers to wait for the proper moment I took action. Hauling him up, I summoned a stout spear from my inventory and muttered, “Back on watch soldier,” before impaling him through the stomach and into the wall of the wooden tower. Letting him go, and seeing that he had some staying power with the aid of the old spear I shrugged and activated my blood mist to seep through the floor and to the ground.
Hurrying across the grounds to the wall of the manor, I bounded up a lattice covered with long dead rose vines. I had just managed to swing over the railing to the balcony as another pair of guards passed below. Waiting patiently for my Blood Mist to come off its cool down I then moved to the double doors and misted through them. When I reconstituted I was in a well appointed bedroom with a large four post bed in which a pair of humans, a heavy set man and a young woman, lay in slumber. Armor lay on a small dresser as if ready to be donned at a moment's notice.
Servant’s attire of a more dainty variety lay around the room crumpled as if thrown off quickly and haphazardly. The man let out a fitful snore and with a concerned glance at the young woman I made my way around the bed and leaned over him.
“Please let this work like every other vampire movie I’ve seen,” I thought to myself before throwing caution to the wind, leaning in and sinking my fangs into the man’s neck. To my relief he only muttered but did not awake. I began to consume his blood, chugging it down in gulps and activating Surge several times to assure that it did overflow and spill onto the bed.
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When the bearded man was quite cold and still I pulled away. Walking to his dresser I looted his armor, and quickly grabbed several other pricey looking items. Only one was of interest to me, and I suspected it belonged to the previous owners of the mansion and not the now very dead man in the bed. Lydia’s description chimed in my ears:
“Riding Leggings of the Adventurous Noble
Type: Light
Slot: Legs
Armor Value: 120
Requirement: Vitality 70
Rarity: Rare
Tier: E
+21 Vitality, +16 Charm
1 Once per hour completely negates fall damage less than 30 meters.
2 Once every minute negate a single expenditure of Essence.”
Putting them on I did not take the time to investigate the rest of the items with the exception of a ring of keys. Throwing them into my inventory, I glanced at the still sleeping girl before slipping to the doorway and listening. A grumbling deep voice passed the door and started to fade as it moved further away.
Cracking it open, I spotted a guard trudging down a hallway lined with light brown wooden doors intricately carved with vines and flowers. I prompted Lydia to give a description .
Cultist Prison Guard Level 32, Elite
Tier F
Weakness: Piercing
Resistance: Fire
HP: 1554/1554
MP: Unknown
Special Ability
Bind Intruder: This guard has the expert ability to quickly bind and subdue prisoners.
Slipping out of the room, I carefully closed the door. Tensing and breathing out sharply before activating my Blazing Boots and Surge of Blood at the same moment. Flashing across the space between us, I slid past the hulking guard in plate armor. In his slowed state he was only just starting to turn as I sliced into a weak point in his leg armor and kicked him in the knee, activating Slice and Hobble respectively.
The slow moving tongues of flame left by my boots writhed over his legs as I stood, coming up with a slice to his lower stomach and then under the edge of his helmet and into his face. As my increased speed ticked away I sliced his weakpoints, all that I had identified at the less capable versions of it I had spent more than an hour hacking into on the wall to the district. The air around us was quickly filled with a slow moving cloud of blood droplets gravitating toward my hungry skin.
When time resumed its normal flow his eyes finally caught up and he screamed through his teeth as his hand grabbed the whistle hanging around his neck. I booted him in the groin and, despite his armor, he winced and let the whistle fall, where I sliced its leather thong, letting it tumble free.
He yanked his sword free and started to scream, my previous kick stifling it into a rasped cough. His silver sword came down and cut a superficial line on my arm that had been aimed at the crown of my head. Still, the silver hissed when it made contact, and my regeneration stopped.
The growling man’s voice was coming back to him, and I knew I had only moments to finish this. With expert precision I slashed into the man’s weak points again and again. Neck, armpit, side. Blood flew off of the man and gravitated toward me and before long he was slumping to a knee and letting out a pained cry. I kicked him onto his back, knelt on his throat as he made a wild swing, imposing another superficial cut as I drove one of the Sisters under his chin and pinned his mouth closed before driving it into his brain.
With my regeneration still halted I knelt and sunk my fangs into his neck as he lay dying. Essence flowed into my avatar and small injuries started to close as my healing resumed. Quickly looting the body, I noted a few significant items, but none that would be useful for me.
Speaking out into the dive room I asked, “Lyd, what time is it?”
“4:45 am, Mal,” she said sweetly.
Shaking my head to dispel the creeping fatigue I turned back to the task at hand.
In the hallway there were three other doors and a set of stairs at either end. Going to each of the doors in turn, I listened for any movement or sounds beyond. The first two didn’t seem to have an occupant. Both were empty bedrooms but seemed to have recently been occupied.
Making a quick search of the chambers I walked away with some more choice treasure to sell. The third room had the faint sound of snoring.
Easing the door open I peered inside.
There were two forms fast asleep in a pair of bunks. The chamber appeared to have once been a sitting room but had been converted to a small barracks. Without making a sound, I slipped inside and ended the lives of the two soundly sleeping men. There was some extra equipment that had been stored in an old wardrobe. Tossing it into the endless void of my inventory, I left the room behind.
Making my way past the dead elite guard, I descended into the darkness of the circular wooden stair creeping downward until I reached the main floor of the structure. Most of the rooms were dark save a chamber at the far end of the hall that, from the sounds coming from it, was likely the kitchens.
Almost all of the decoration that once made this a well appointed manor house had been removed. Only the black tabards with the red sigil of the Lady of Flame adorned the halls, a maiden-like figure in the center of a curling ball of flame.
As I knelt in the stairwell there was a clamor at the entrance. A shot of fear rushed through me as I imagined someone had found the impaled guard in the tower. With relief, I realized the voices that accompanied the tumult were not alarmed, just annoyed.
“Vicar, I fail to understand why we must redouble our efforts. By our reports almost all of the Remnants have been killed.”
The snarling voice of an older man answered, “Vont, you do not simply lower your guard when these creatures crawl amidst your feet. Their gift is to return to life. That is why they are so dangerous to the Lady’s mission.”
The woman named Vont answered as I saw her and the stooped figure that was likely the Vicar leading the way to a stairwell downward. Analyzing them both, I prompted Lydia to give a description, before Vont continued.
“Vicar of the Cult of Flame 38, Elite
Tier F
Weakness: Cold
Resistance: Fire
HP: 2300/2300
MP: Unknown
Breath Beam: A breath weapon of concentrated beam-like fire.
Adjutant of the Cult of Flame 34, Elite
Tier F
Weakness: Cold
Resistance: Fire
HP: 2000/2000
MP: Unknown
Special Ability
Flame Corona: An aura of fire that surrounds the caster and causes damage to any creature that attacks them in melee.”
“Of course, but if our reports are to be believed none of the Remnants have returned to life. With the exception of a patrol that traveled northeast just this evening every patrol has returned to report that there is either no sign…”
Their voices faded as they descended and I remained knelt in the shadows mulling over what I’d heard with concern.
No one has respawned?
There had to be some kind of glitch in the system. Maybe Catacomb was just struggling to get everyone back up and running overnight?
Ignoring the sound of clattering pans in the kitchen, I hurried to the downward stairs. Unlike the upper levels the dark lower floor seemed to be cut entirely in stone. I ducked my head and hurried down the stairs with the Sisters in my hands.
