HPDBC Chapter 109 – Trouble Brewing.
Chapter 109 – Trouble Brewing.
Chapter 109 – Trouble Brewing.
The chamber was dim, lit only by the sickly red glow emanating from a series of runes etched into the stone floor. A group of robed figures knelt in a circle, chanting low and guttural verses in a forgotten tongue. At the center of the room, atop an altar stained with dried blood, rested the decapitated head of a cultist. It was pale, lifeless, and yet, under the guidance of the ritual, it seemed unnervingly animated. The mouth twitched, the eyes flickered with an unnatural crimson light.
The man, seemingly a High Priest stood before the altar, draped in robes that shimmered with a dark, otherworldly energy. His face was hidden beneath a featureless metal mask, save for two slits through which his piercing, blood-red eyes burned. In his hands, he held a ritual dagger, its blade serrated and carved with intricate patterns that seemed to drink in the ambient light.
“... Reveal to us your sight, O Blood Lord, your loyal servants beg for your guidance.”
His voice was both commanding and reverent, echoing throughout the chamber as he plunged the dagger into his own wrist, allowing his blood to flow freely. The room fell silent as the crimson liquid dripped onto the altar, which seemed to stir with strange unholy energy. The blood began to shift and writhe, and, as if forming tiny red capillaries, it extended upward, reaching toward the head that hovered ominously above it.
Suddenly, the head's eyes shot open, glowing with an intense, malevolent crimson light. The cultists surrounding it remained motionless, their stoic demeanor suggesting this was a sight they had witnessed many times before. Even as the head emitted strange, growling sounds - its jaw clattering unnervingly as it reset itself into place, they did not waver.
“The Blood Lord graces us with His sight... Now speak, brother! Why has our temple been desecrated? Tell us who is responsible for this blasphemy!”
The leader of the group shouted, his voice reverberating through the dark, oppressive temple where they had gathered. The head jolted, its cold red gaze locking onto the masked man before it spoke in a strained, husky voice.
“...wHiTe... a...nT, aRm...OR...”
Its words came slowly, disjointed, and nonsensical. The priest who had slit his wrist stepped forward, placing a bloodied hand on the head’s pallid cheek. The crimson capillaries from the altar connected to his flesh, pulsating as if alive. A shiver ran through him as his essence melded with the head’s lingering consciousness. Behind his mask, his eyes glowed brighter, consumed by a vivid vision. Strange creatures invaded his mind—one of them vaguely human yet undeniably otherworldly.
“Ughh...” the priest groaned, staggering slightly as the occult spell took hold.
The head began to bulge grotesquely, its flesh swelling unnaturally before abruptly imploding, spraying blood and innards across the chamber. Without hesitation, the priest flicked his hand to the side, discarding the mangled remains onto a grisly pile of similar heads the cultists had already examined.
“This being... was it the one responsible? The other visions... they also reveal it.”
The High Priest staggered for a moment, regaining his balance as the glow in his eyes faded to their usual blood-red hue. His expression was unreadable beneath the mask, but his tone indicated anger.
“This creature... it is no ordinary foe”
The leader murmured, his voice laced with unease.
“Its aura is tainted - neither human nor entirely monstrous. Its power bears the marks of both light and dark... Twilight? But how? Such a blasphemous existence!”
The other kneeling cultists remained silent, their heads bowed. Exhaustion weighed heavily on them, their stamina nearly depleted from the grueling ritual they had been performing. They dared not speak, nor even lift their gaze toward the leader.
The grisly collection of heads before them was the result of their desperate efforts - retrieved mostly through grave digging and sacrilege. Each belonged to one of their fallen brethren, their lives and deaths examined for answers. The cult sought to unravel the mystery behind the recent catastrophe in Argossa, where one of their concealed lairs had been exposed - a calamity on a scale they had never experienced.
Even more alarming was the fact that one of their high priests, a powerful servant of the Blood Lord, had been defeated. Their ancient enemies, the paladins of Ghelene, had delivered a devastating blow, leaving the cult reeling as they struggled to recover and understand how it had happened.
“We must uncover the truth behind this. Find this blasphemous being and all who aided them. We will offer their blood and souls to our Lord. Only then will his wrath be appeased!”
He turned to a figure lurking in the shadows, a wiry man clad in a patchwork of leather and chainmail. A pair of cruel daggers hung at his hips, their hilts etched with symbols of the Blood Lord.
“Bloodshade.”
The priest beckoned the man with a commanding voice.
“Take your hunters and track this creature. I expect results swiftly. Do not fail me.”
“It will be done, High Priest. The blood will flow.”
The man referred to as Bloodshade bowed before the hooded man and soon his form vanished from within this dark temple...
Meanwhile, within the confines of the newly discovered summoning chamber in Rusty’s Soul Forge, the living armor studied the shimmering screen before him. Oblivious to the events unfolding far away, he pondered the strange potential of the summoning system he had accessed.
“So... if I understand this correctly, that summoning circle over there will send me somewhere to complete a ‘quest’... is that right?”
Rusty asked while looking at the small text on the semi-transparent screen, if he was a human he would certainly be squinting. Fortunately, he wasn’t alone. Aburdon and Alexander were there to fill him in.
“Seemingly so.”
Alexander, still going through the instruction manual, replied with a distracted tone. Though he had more experience with this place than the others - and was once the old master of the Soul Forge he couldn’t recall anything like this ever existing. He had to assume it was a development that occurred after his soul had been fused with the monster and the demon.
“But... why would I do that? What if I die? And what will I even get in return?”
Necromancer’s Helper
Difficulty:
Hard
Description:
A necromancer summons you to defend his lair from an onslaught, help him defend his lair.
“Oh?”
He glanced at the first mission and it seemed interesting. He would be summoned to defend someone’s lair, something that he was trying to create in the next city he would go to. He didn’t know how strong his enemies would be but the quest window was informing him that it wouldn’t be an easy quest to fulfill.
“Necromancer? Let’s pass on this, for all we know he deserves it!”
“Hah? What are you even saying?”
Before he could say anything, his two guides were already back to arguing. He quickly glanced back at the two other options on the screen, wondering which of them he should pick. From what the instruction manual said, if he chose one the other two would be lost.
The remaining options on the screen glowed faintly, their titles enticing and mysterious. Rusty’s gaze shifted to the next quest description, curious about what other tasks the summoning chamber might have in store.
Quest:
Artifact Recovery
Difficulty:
Medium
Description:
A group of adventurers seeks your assistance in retrieving a stolen artifact from a band of ruthless mercenaries. Chase them down before they get away and retrieve it.
“Chasing down thieves? Interesting... and the last one is...”
Quest:
Monster Combat
Difficulty:
Easy
Description:
Defeat the other summoned monster in a one on one battle and defend your summoner’s honor.
Rusty glanced over the three options, pondering which one to choose. It was clear that selecting a higher difficulty would yield greater rewards, but the risk of dying during the mission meant he’d walk away with nothing.
“Let’s go with the first one, Rusty. I’m sure that necromancer has plenty of minions you can hide behind. If you run down the clock, you’ll still get some rewards.”
Aburdon suggested, his black orb-like form floating next to the screen. Of course, Alexander had his own opinion and he seemed to favor the middle option.
“The middle one doesn’t sound too difficult, and those adventurers will probably assist you during the mission. Everyone knows the key to fighting undead is taking down the necromancer. If he falls, you’ll be forced to defend him - and probably fail, those bastards love blowing up their minions to save their hide.”
Alexander raised a valid point - if Rusty ended up as just another minion, he’d likely be used as a shield. His chances of survival seemed slim. However, the middle option didn’t appeal to him much either. He was a living armor monster, not a hound. What if those mercenaries were too fast or mounted on horses? How could he possibly chase them down?
Then there was the third option: a straightforward duel between monsters, with seemingly no additional complications.
“Perhaps I should go with that one first...”
While he wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge, there was no reason to rush into danger. Testing the summoning chamber with the simplest mission first seemed like the most prudent choice. Before his two guides could voice any objections, he clicked on the third option.