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*Chapter 60 - A New Quest: The Forgotten Dungeon
🕑 Added 2021-08-23 04:31:53 +0000 UTCChapter 60 - A New Quest: The Forgotten Dungeon
As the procession finally came full circle, the drums and chanting stopped simultaneously with a loud guttural shriek from the priestess. It immediately became deathly quiet aside from the sobs and begging of the hog-tied prisoners, and soon thereafter the priestess wearing the feathered headdress raised her hands for all to quiet. Moments later and she was lifted up into the air by some huge creature Trey was completely unfamiliar with, though the status page did classify it as a greater demon. It was like a gorilla, but had four arms and was many times larger than any gorilla Trey’d ever seen before. It was also missing lips, exposing huge rows of teeth along with lidless red eyes. Two long tusks each the size of his arm were sticking out of its mouth to boot.
Name: Brutask
Race: Brutask, Greater Demon
Class: Guardian
Level: 76
HP: ???
MP: ???
SP: ???
DP: ???
“My fellow worshippers!” the priestess yelled out over the pit as the others waited silently by. “I am glad that you have made it back for our bi-monthly gathering. As always, you have all pleased the dark gods of the Infernal Crowns through your efforts… and this time I have even received word from my patron god: Omastein, Sire of Devils. He is to send one of his loyal servants to collect from us this day… and to share knowledge regarding important events to come. Through his love, may we receive salvation.”
Murmurs and whispers erupted around them, and it became abundantly clear to Trey and Ashe that this wasn’t a common occurrence.
The priestess made a quick motion with her hands in either direction and immediately the robed figures carrying the bound prisoners set to work. They laid them down and unlatched the frantically struggling soon-to-be victims from the poles while keeping the wrists and ankles bound. The cultists began kicking or beating them into submission to stop their struggling before forcing vials of amber liquid into each of their mouths. After the liquid had disappeared down each of the prisoner’s throats, they were then taken and tied again by their wrists to the large wooden spikes surrounding the pit.
The priestess continued her speech after a short time of watching her conspiring colleagues handle their victims. She raised her voice louder to drown out the increased sobbing and cries of the ones being beaten. “I see a few new faces here tonight, so I would also like to welcome all of these new additions to our flock! Whatever you did to obtain your token coin, know that you are not fully fledged initiates just yet. I hope you will prove yourselves to be worthy of such an honor, and I hope to meet each of you very soon after the ceremony has finished. To the seniors in this congregation, please allow our new members to fully immerse themselves in the proceedings so that they will have first hand knowledge of the unbridled glory of the dark lords.”
The woman’s eyes locked with Trey’s briefly as she gave him a meaningful nod. Then she diverted her attention back to the task at hand. She cleared her throat. “Unfortunately… there has been a traitor within our ranks. Many of you know him by the name of Gupla, and he was seen conspiring with the eastern continent’s Church of the Alminost for monetary gain.”
Hisses of disapproval ran vibrant as the priestess continued to speak on the matter, and it was Gorthomal who clarified what this meant after nudging Trey to get his attention.
“The Church of the Alminost worships Borendel, Sire of Light and Vetria, Mistress of Light. They are celestially aligned gods who favor the angels, and their holy-orders will kill you on sight if they see that you’re a summoner, warlock or necromancer. The Alminost wage an eternal war against the Infernal Crowns, and are our sworn enemies based simply on our existence.”
Trey nodded at Gorthomal’s words just as the head priestess clapped her hands twice, and not soon after - three people were dragged to the front along the edge of the pit in front of her by six cultists. They were all heavily bruised and already half-dead. Dried blood covered each of their faces and two of them struggled just to breathe.
The first was a bald, robed man matching the rest of the cultists here, though his hands had both been cut off and burned at the stumps. His lips had also been sewn shut with thread, and his bloodshot eyes were kept open by similar threads stitching the eyelids to the skin. The second person was a short-cropped brunette woman wearing heavy iron plate armor. An empty scabbard at her side was bloodied, with signs of battle in the dents, scorch marks and chips along her breastplate. The third was another bald man but he was much bigger than the other two people, and older as well. He too wore heavy plate mail, but his entire left arm was missing - something had torn it off with signs of the armor shredding where it’d been hit by a blast of power. The stump on his arm was burned shut just as the first man’s stumps had been, though he still had a look of fiery defiance in his eyes.
“BEHOLD, THE TRAITOR AND TWO SURVIVING PALADINS OF THE CHURCH OF THE ALMINOST!” The priestesses’ words were a screech with jeers and hisses coming from the audience. “THE LAST OF THEIR RECENT EXPEDITION TO CRUSH OUR FLOCK!”
The third man in turn spat at them, vainly tried to struggle to his feet with no avail under the firm grip of his captors, and grew red in the face. “YOUR SOULS WILL BURN IN THE HELLS FOR WHAT YOU HAVE ALL DONE! YOU HAVE NO SALVATION! YOU HAVE NOTHING IN THE AFTERLIFE BUT PAIN AND ROT! MAY YOUR DECISIONS IN LIFE REFLECT POORLY UPON YOU ALL IN DEATH! FOR AT LEAST I KNOW MY GODS ARE WATCHING WITH OPEN ARMS, WAITING FOR ME TO RETURN TO THEM AMONGST THE HEAVENS!!!”
The paladin’s brave rebuke only earned him the echoing laughter of his surrounding spectators - the cultists along with their minions all thought it hilarious. The dark priestess curled her lips into an evil grin, and she commanded her minion to lower her to the ground. Walking around, the laughter of the other cultists stopped to listen to what she had to say.
She knelt down, palming the handle of a long curved dagger at her side. The feathered headdress shook while she quivered with excited anticipation, and she gently put her other hand along the paladin’s face. “My dear knight… I am afraid there will be no returning to your gods after this. Not after what we do to you, because you will not even have a soul remaining.”
The paladin’s face went from a deep angry red to a gaunt paleness under the green light of a nearby bonfire, though he still kept the defiant expression of hate under ragged breaths.
The priestess chuckled loudly in a sinister tone and slowly drew the knife out, letting the sound of metal on metal ring out as she drew the blade up across his iron breastplate and up under his jaw. “Tell our friends in the depths… hello.”
With a violent jerk she brought the paladin’s head forward and simultaneously rammed the blade up into his brain from beneath. Blood splattered across her face and the man loudly sputtered a couple times before his eyes rolled back into his head. A couple seconds passed, and he went limp in the grips of the two cultists holding him.
Smiling in contentment with her work, the head priestess walked around the corpse and took a quick breath in, then kicked the paladin’s body hard in the back. His body tumbled forward over the edge of the abyss... and into the darkness below.
Trey watched as the body spiraled, turned about, and lifelessly dropped to the depths. All was silent for a long time as he watched it disappear, until far beneath them a thrashing of obscured movement saw the corpse disappear into the jaws of some enormous creature. There was another flash of light, the familiar screech of a soul that often happened after Rivia performed her own sacrifices, and then all was silent.
The priestess wearing the feathered headdress motioned to her comrades holding the other two victims. They quickly drew out their own knives and slit the throats of the man and woman they held, then kicked their bodies into the pit as well. The end result was the same, and ended with another round of laughter from the onlookers.
Then, being lifted up again by the giant gorilla-demon hybrid, the head priestess spread out her arms to either side and let out a strange cheer. “Let the ceremony begin!”
In a flurry of motion the crowds of hooded figures began to move. Some of them excitedly began to strip themselves of their clothes and masks, while others went to mark the bound prisoners with vials of blood. Each of the prisoners had a bloody pentagram carved into their foreheads with subsequent markings Trey wasn’t familiar with carved into their limbs. The blood-filled vials were poured over their bodies as the prisoners screeched through their gags and struggled even more violently, but to Trey’s immense surprise many of the men who were bound on wooden spikes had erections.
The look of confusion was immediately noted by Gorthomal, who was removing his own robes and mask along with his two daema minions. The old man’s four eyes blinked in unison as he pointed. “They were given aphrodisiacs. This part of the ceremony is a blood orgy, you can pleasure yourself with anyone who douses themselves in blood. The sacrifices are a given that you can lay with, but some of the others in our cult also like to subject themselves to the whims of whoever wants to take them.”
Trey took a look over his shoulder and saw that many of the men and a surprisingly large number of women were also pulling out vials of blood to bathe themselves in it before other cultists sexuall set upon them. Ashe’s jaw had dropped and Trey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The initial shock of what was going on had drained away though. His eyes wandered back over to where the chief priestess had mounted one of the men bound to a stake, where she was aggressively choking the poor guy.
Trey winced, then he felt a Gorthomal’s hand plant itself on his shoulder.
“Come with me,” the old man said with a confident nod. He took a look over at Ashe. “Are you going to participate as well?”
Ashe quickly shook her head no so Gorthomal shrugged and led Trey off through the crowds while Atharost and Rivia stayed behind with Trey’s friend.
Gorthomal gave Trey a wink amidst the sudden onset of sex that had broken out about them. “She seems a little withdrawn. Are you sure she’s into you?”
“Ashe?” Trey asked incredulously. Then he let out a nervous laugh. “No, Ashe is a lesbian. She’s definitely NOT interested in me.”
The old summoner nodded in understanding. “Oh. That makes sense now.”
Gorthomal led Trey over to stand between two of the stakes. The loud grunts, crying and screams of a woman could be heard just past the line of bodies surrounding the pole to their left, while a young man to their right was being ridden by a cultist woman while she carved off his nose.
Trey felt sick, but didn’t want to make that known. Not here. Not now. He was actually surprised at how revolted he was by all of this, and was seriously second guessing his choice in class. He’d never felt revolted by killing before. Perhaps it was the torture, but then he dismissed the idea. No... that wasn’t it. It was that these people hadn’t done anything wrong enough to deserve their insanely evil treatment. From what Gorthomal had just said, they were ‘sacrifices’ to be used in this underground orgy before they were killed.
Gorthomal pointed to the larger crowd surrounding the obscured woman to their left. “I saw you looking at the redheaded elf. You should take a turn with her while you’re here.”
Trey remembered the girl Gorthomal was talking about, wincing again after she let out a vivid scream from beyond the wall of naked standing bodies. He immediately shook his head. “No I think I’ll pass on this… I don’t feel well.”
Gorthomal’s expression slowly changed into one of concern. He stepped back and evaluated Trey for a moment, then bent forward to whisper into Trey’s ear. “Believe me young one, do not falter here. If you didn’t notice, the high priestess is watching you already. She has taken an interest in you, and not following through with the ritual will likely mean your death. Do this, or die. I only say this as a friend, and not as a threat. It is just the truth. That priestess is a crazed woman and you should very much try to get on her good side.”
Trey felt a knot in his stomach begin to curl, and he paled. “What is the priestess’s name?”
Gorthomal withdrew again and smiled lightly, patting Trey on the shoulder. “She’ll introduce herself to you when the time comes. Don’t worry.”
The old man turned to go, heading towards the young man a little younger than Trey was to their right.
Trey cocked his head in confusion. “Where are you going?”
“Me?” Gorthomal turned around, now fully erect to Trey’s immense discomfort. The old man openly laughed as the color returned to Trey’s face full force. “I like men. You have fun with that elf, I’ll be riding this one.”
Trey’s jaw dropped when the old man turned back around and pushed himself through the crowd. Many of the others made way for their senior cultist and as the girl on top of their sacrifice finally finished, Gorthomal violently spun the blood-covered man to lay on his front. Trey’s jaw remained dropped and a wave of disgust overcame him as the old cultist began.
Trey turned around, not wanting to see much more, and felt bile come up into his mouth. He swallowed it by sheer force of will and nervously looked around. Noticing that many of the other cultists nearby were giving him sideways glances or curious stares - he immediately found himself under the scrutiny of the pack. The sounds of the blood orgy filled his ears and everywhere he looked there were groups of people covered in clotting crimson blood and having intercourse, be it rape or willing.
He stood there another minute, unsure of what to do before one of the observing cultists called out to him at his front. “Newblood! Get over here and celebrate with us under the gaze of the Infernal Crowns!”
Trey felt hands lightly push and then pull him forward, with the crowd of men and women laughing and chattering with one another until he made it to the front. There, tied to the wooden stake on the perimeter of the pit, was the redheaded elf he’d seen earlier. She was covered in blood from head to toe, quivering, and sobbing on the ground with her stomach to the floor. Standing on the opposite edge of their little circle was the priestess he’d been warned about not even a few minutes ago… looking directly at him.
He was pushed into the center by someone behind him at the laughter and urging of the others, and he stupidly stared at the unfortunate elf while standing over her.
He heard a man’s voice from behind yell out: “GO ON BOY!”
Further laughter arose at the urging with other shouts directed at him amidst the sounds of the ongoing sexual ceremonies. He could feel the stares of the onlookers boring into him, and he could hear the laughter about him dying down into muttering as he stalled. Then he became nervous about what would happen to him if he failed in this.
Then the next thing he knew, he felt the presence of his symbiote come to the forefront of his mind. Sithis took over completely.
‘I will take it from here, just take a backseat and observe.’
Sithis’ voice was like crystal clear water to a thirsting man in the desert. Trey felt his hands take off the last of his undergarments and he stepped out from his pile of clothes to advance. Sithis proudly flexed the musculature of their shared body, with definition evident and drawing attention to the lines in his abdomen and arms.
The redheaded elf, the one gorthomal had led him to, screamed through the gag as she lay bound to the wooden spike on the floor. The girl’s fingers intertwined with one another and her knuckles began to go white amidst her sobs as the ropes cut into her wrists.
This was not something he wanted to do, and not something he even wanted to watch.
He sent his symbiote a mental note before disappearing into the back of his own mind. ‘Sithis… bring me back when this is over. I don’t want to watch anymore.’
Sithis acknowledged this. ‘Yes Trey. It will be done.’
With that. Trey gave everything over to his symbiote and faded away into blackness. The last thought he remembered thinking before coming back an hour later... was about how fucked up this all was.
***
Trey was woken back up by Sithis and handed control of his body again in what seemed like a blink of an eye. The blood orgy was wrapping up, with many of the cultists putting their clothes back on. To his surprise, the chief priestess was riding him and finishing her climax in an intense orgasm as he clutched her hips. He looked to his left, bewildered, and saw Ashe watching from afar. Looking to his right he saw the redheaded elf beauty… Or what had been her at one point.
She was dead. The elf’s throat had been slit, with a large pool of blood underneath her face and dead eyes staring blankly out into nothingness. Trey’s heart sank upon seeing it, and he was quick to discover after sitting up that all of the other prisoners were now dead too.
The priestess tossed her feathered headdress to one side, brushed her hands through her long dark hair and sighed after finishing. She looked down in satisfaction and ran a bloodied hand over his abdomen. Specks of dried blood covered his naked body just as it did hers.
“You did well. I look forward to repeating that sometime in the future.”
Trey gingerly pushed himself up after she got off his crotch and gave her a forced smile. “Thanks.”
She gave him an up-and-down glance before dipping her hands in a large bowl of water the brutask minion she owned brought her. Despite his distaste for the situation, he couldn’t help but appreciate the curves of her backside while she was turned from him.
“Do you have a name, newblood?” She asked curiously, wiping the blood off of her arms and then wiping down her front. She walked back over and took the feathered headdress again, placed it on her head, and put her hands on her hips while she awaited his answer.
He got up, finding his clothes not far off. “My name is Trey.”
“And mine is Lethera. It is a pleasure to meet you Trey.”
She gave a mock bow and a strange smile before picking up her black robes and staff. Donning them, she came over and slowly planted a kiss on his cheek to whisper in his ear. “I know what you carry inside your soul.”
Trey paled, but the look she gave him indicated she wasn’t aggressive.
“Do not be worried. If anything, I am just immensely surprised.” She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Though I would not mention it to the other members of this cult… they may kill you out of jealousy or spite. Keep it hushed until we speak further. I do not have time today… but I would like to discuss things in private with you at a more opportune time. Unfortunately I have business to attend to after the ceremonies, but know that my god favors you. He wishes you to pledge to him, and says to be wary of Alkir. She is a spiteful one and isn’t to be trusted. Regardless… to be Eleknar’s host… now that is quite fascinating. You’re going to have to tell me how you acquired the essence and how you ended up here of all places in existence...”
She winked, then commanded her minion to pick her up. Doing so and putting her atop the huge demon’s back, she gave a high pitched yelp to turn the demon around and speak across the pit again. “Let us feast! After that, we will summon the speaker for Omastein, Sire of Devils. His message will be delivered tonight with the rise of the moon!”
Cheers arose from all around and Gorthomal appeared out of nowhere to hand Trey a damp rag. Trey took it from the old man and wiped his face clean of blood.
“What was the purpose of all that?”
Gorthomal looked confused at Trey’s question. “The purpose of what?”
“The blood orgy. Sacrificing those people.”
The old man just began to laugh, but he settled down quickly under the curious gaze of the priestess before she left towards the tunnel she’d first come from over an hour ago. He cleared his throat and smiled back at the younger summoner comfortably. “The sacrifices were sent to Omastein’s pets. Those creatures in the pit… they devour souls to survive and are actually one of many pits scattered across different worlds. He keeps them alive in case he needs to use them for… various events. We are keepers of his pets, and serve him along with others of the Infernal Crowns as long as it does not contradict his own commands. As for the orgy, it’s a little bit of fun but also some blood magic. Blood magic feeds off bodily fluids in general, not just blood… which is a little known fact if you’re not a blood magic user yourself. This means that sex is used as a funnel for energy or mana, which we also concentrate and send to Omastein’s pets. It grants us his favor, and if you’re high up enough in the cult: he’ll even give you various gifts for your efforts... But enough about that. Do you like sausage? Our cooks make some fine sausage. I promise you will not be disappointed!”
***
The next cave over was filled with food, wine, tables to eat at and cages of captives or slaves. By the time Trey got there with his companions, over half of the tables were already full. Various humanoid minions like the daema, succubi, culn and others were used as servants to fetch food when needed. Smaller fires that didn’t glow that eerie green lit up the room, and looking up to the ceiling - Trey noticed there were actually vent shafts to take the smoke up and away.
As Gorthomal stated earlier, the sausage was indeed spectacular. Trey didn’t ask what meat it was made out of though in fear of what it actually could be, and just chose to believe it was… normal. Though he wouldn’t have put it past these people to use people in their food considering the things he’d just seen, and he did eat people too after all… Just, not people who didn’t deserve it. Small cakes were then delivered by a gorgeous brunette servant whose name Trey didn’t catch, breads and fruit arrived soon thereafter. Kind of odd that they gave desert first but Trey wasn’t going to complain about it. Both of Trey’s minions ate in silence, as did Ashe, and the only talking going on at that table was between Trey and Gorthomal.
“So where’d you get an ifrit? I thought they’d gone extinct, very pricey to buy one off another summoner would be my guess. Wouldn’t you think so?”
Trey shrugged at Gorthomal’s question. He truly didn’t know nor did he care, but the vibe he was getting was that the old summoner wanted to buy Atharost off him. In fact, the way Gorthomal talked about minions was more in terms of property or items than it was about friendship or partnership. He was like a horse breeder trying to find the best stallion on sale to add to his collection.
“You know why they’re so valuable right?” Gorthomal asked curiously. He nearly choked on a piece of sausage after failing to chew it properly and got a lot of looks from nearby tables, but was able to swallow it down a couple seconds later.
Trey shrugged again and finished swallowing a mouthful of food, then reached for his drink. “Because they’re able to fly and can blast things with flames?”
Gorthomal laughed loudly at that, and if Trey didn’t know better he’d think the man was drunk.
“No!” Gorthomal chuckled loudly. “Of course those are part of the equation, but it’s because of their ability to come back after death. Surely you’ve inspected your ifrit’s status page by now in full detail?”
Trey swallowed the piece of cake he’d been chewing in irritated fashion and gave the older summoner a knowing stare. “Are you talking about this?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Simplified Status Page for Atharost
Name: Atharost
Race: Ifrit, Greater Demon
Class: N/A
Level: 36
HP: 360/360
MP: 402/402
SP: 100/100
DP: 1/1
Skills: Firebolt (lvl. 32^^^) (Fire), Fireblast (lvl. 25^^) (Fire), Wall of Flames^ (lvl. 12)(Fire)
Firestorm (lvl. 4) (Fire), Demon Tail (lvl. 13^), Hand to Hand Combat (lvl. 9)
Traits: Flying, Life of Phoenix, Fireform, Trey Bon’s Minion
Magical Attributes: Fire
Opinion of you: Very Friendly
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He pulled up Atharost’s status page and touched the trait called ‘Life of Pheonix’. Immediately another smaller prompt appeared, and it read the following:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Life of Phoenix - Upon death, participant will reduce to a pile of ash. Participant will
lose a randomly assigned number of levels between 1 and 20. If the participant is unable to lose that many levels without going negative, the participant permanently dies. If the participant is able to pay the level toll, the participant will be reborn from the ashes inbetween 1 and 7 days later. Participant may choose the location of respawn based upon where the ashes have spread.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gorthomal nodded. “Yes! Ifritis were once a major power in the hells because of their ability to come back to life. As long as their Life of Phoenix is available to activate with the available levels, their souls cannot be consumed or destroyed. Resurrecting ifrit hordes dominated huge areas of the hells in ages past before a coalition of other demon lords waged one of the great wars against them to cull their numbers. Since then, it is a rarity to see any ifrit. How much would it cost to buy him from you?”
Ah. There it was. Trey had figured this was coming, and the irritated snort from Atharost gave away his personal feelings on the matter instantly.
“Atharost is not for sale.” Trey said bluntly. “Sorry.”
Gorthomal frowned, then sighed, but nodded in resignation. “Very well, I figured I’d try.
The feast went on without much incident. They talked about Gorthomal’s various aspirations, about Trey’s home back on Earth, and about various expeditions into the deadlands that they’d both undertaken - though Trey only had three brief encounters to really speak of. Gorthomal on the other hand had many, many more… and some of the stories were either highly exaggerated... or the deadlands were much scarier than Trey had originally realized once you cleared the outer rim of the small continent and traveled further inland.
Eventually Gorthomal set upon a question Trey had been hoping would be brought up. “What do you hope to achieve by joining the cult?”
Trey swallowed a greasy, warm sausage and wiped his hands on his dark pants. Catching a glance from a curious warlock not far off at an adjacent table, Trey shuffled absentmindedly as he formed the words in his head before speaking them. “Well, I was hoping to learn. I’ve done everything regarding my class as a summoner by myself up until now, and I know very little. I could really use a new summoning circle, that’s probably at the top of my list.”
Gorhtomal raised an eyebrow, the tri-pod jaws of his morphed face unfurling into a grin. “And what summoning circle do you currently possess?”
“The one you get starting out from the class selection.”
Gorthomal immediately snorted in amusement and downed an amber glass of strange wine. He burped, set it down and shook his head in mock sadness. “I can see why you came to us. You’ve had trouble acquiring new minions haven’t you?”
Trey nodded.
“How’d you obtain the three you have now?”
“Sheer dumb luck I suppose.”
“I’d say.”
Gorthomal sighed lightly, stretched and stood up. He beckoned for the others to do the same as they’d all finished their food, with his two daema wiping off their own greasy hands on their trousers to clutch their staves and follow their summoner master away from the table.
“They have a minion auction going on right now. Want to take a look?”
“What?! Really?” Trey’s eyes lit up, he failed miserably at hiding his enthusiasm at the suggestion to which Ashe and Gorthomal both took with amusement.
Gorthomal motioned for him and the others to get up, and they started making their way out of the feasting room. The round tables spaced out across the cave they’d come to were narrow enough that Trey had a hard time navigating them out, so he bumped into a couple people by accident to earn himself some grimaces.
“Come on, nightfall is a ways away. We still have a couple hours until the last ceremonies commence.” Heading towards the next room in the caves, Gorthomal brushed his thinning white hair to the side and gave Trey a backwards glance after passing the last of the banquet tables. “How much money do you have on you?”
“Uh… hold on.” Trey took his coin purse out of shadowform and began counting. He frowned. Even with Jason’s recent income after selling a good amount of potions, they still didn’t have as much as he’d hoped. “We’ve got the equivalent of somewhere around 3,800 copper.”
Gorthomal immediately started laughing, but cut it short at Trey’s downtrodden demeanor. The old man leaned over with a grin. “How about a trade then?”
They passed into the tunnel leading to the next cave with Trey scratching his head. “What do you mean by Trade?”
Gorthomal stopped, looked around to make sure no one was listening in and turned to face Trey’s party. He stood pointing a thumb over his back at his two daema further down. “We are heading into the Deadlands of Ornthas soon. About a week or two from now actually. We have a lead on a lost relic that would greatly benefit my group, and we were wanting to hire some help. Perhaps you’d be interested in half the pay up front? That way you’d be able to purchase some minions for the trip and it’d benefit us both.”
Ashe chimed in for the first time in a while. “Sounds good to me! We were looking for the next gig anyways!”
Trey rolled his eyes after she’d answered for him, but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I can’t disagree with Ashe… we are looking for a job. I’ll take it as long as it’s a fair deal. What are you offering, what ruin are we headed to and do you have any details on how dangerous this trip is going to be?”
Gorthomal seemed hesitant with the new series of questions, and shot a look over to his minions while moving over to let another newbie cultist and his two culn soldiers brush by. He cleared his throat, and waited for the other cultist to vanish out of sight while deep in thought for a short time. Then he frowned. “It’s actually in an unexplored dungeon in the ruins of Labasta. I have no idea how dangerous it’s going to be… but the dungeon core’s estimated power is quite high. It’s the reason why I am wanting help… I likely would die attempting it alone with only my own minions for support.”
Trey snorted, furrowing his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “Then why not recruit others of the cult who are stronger than me?”
“Because I want the big prize for myself of course, and you seem more trustworthy than a lot of my other compatriots.” The old man smiled wickedly. “I wouldn’t dare go with the others I know, they’d try to take it for themselves after they find out what it is. I’ll pay you well under the condition that if we find the item of power that I’m looking for, there will be no contest to me taking it. You will be paid up front now with the equivalent of 200,000 copper pieces, and given another 200,000 after we return. You will also be able to take half of all that we find in plunder after we compile it at the end, with the exception of the primary prize that I seek. If you die, on my word, your pay will be distributed to anyone you name as a successor for your attempt to help me… even if we fail to obtain the item. Do we have a deal?”
The ever familiar mechanical voice of the All Spirit rang in Trey’s ears. “You have been offered a quest: The Forgotten Dungeon - Accompany Gorthomal and his minions into the Deadlands of Ornthas. Find the previously unexplored dungeon, and acquire the artifact Gorthomal is looking for. Completing this quest will result with 3 additional overall levels as an immediate reward as well as an increase in reputation with the occultist factions in the Lawless Lands. Do you accept or decline?”
That was a good amount of money, more than they’d ever had before. The only thing he’d be able to compare it to was the fox totem he’d used on Ashe, but because he’d used it he’d never actually acquired the 1,200,000 it had been worth. Instead, he and his group had stayed below 10,000 regularly and generally had less than 4,000. They weren’t starving, but they certainly weren’t well off.
Trey’s contemplation was interrupted with a nudge from Ashe.
“We’ll take it.” Trey said confidently, holding out a hand that Gorthomal took with an enthusiastic shake.
“You have accepted the quest: The Forgotten Dungeon.”
Trey rolled his eyes. He had no idea why this qualified him for a quest versus the many other things he’d been through that hadn’t qualified, but he didn’t question it. It all seemed random as fuck to him.
“My boy, you will not be disappointed!” Gorthomal cheerily swelled up and with a mental command one of his daema walked over and pulled out their own coin purse. Counting out the sum of money, Trey saw that most of it was in gold and platinum coins. Probably a good idea considering how heavy it’d be if they carried around that many coppers.
Gorthomal handed the money over once it’d been counted out for them all to see. “200,000 as promised. Shall we continue? I’ve been told that this time there’s quite a selection on sale.”
