novel-bin Arc 5 | Dead Pacifica (Part 13)
Arc 5 | Dead Pacifica (Part 13)
DEAD PACIFICA
Part 13
The cult—my cult—took Trail A and fortunately didn’t encounter any of the crew again. I didn’t want to burn an ability just to materialize right in front of their faces to scold them. They laughed at the stunt they pulled by clearly scaring those two women.
“Now are you pleased we took the scenic route?” Rachel asked the others.
“Worth it,” Cassie purred. She walked with a rhythmic, predatory sway, her fingers trailing over the bark of the hemlocks as if she were feeling the trees' pulses. “The cabin always centers me. Keeps me calm. What about you, Mom?”
“I’m sorry, Cassie. It was the first thing that popped into my head. I thought the crew would be in town by now given that it’s almost dark,” Rachel explained.
“I’d rather not keep Xavier waiting, you know,” Caleb said.
“Oh, hush. You gotta live a little, dear Caleb. No use with you joining us and not enjoying the little things in life. It’s not what this family is all about,” Rachel said. “Look at the bounty our Lord has built and we get to enjoy it everyday. You are no longer a stooge stuck behind a desk, wasting away for who knows how long. You often speak of so many bad memories of that life. but you are no longer a slave to the corporate elite and the billionaires. Xavier has plucked you to be more than just a cog in their machine.”
Caleb looked at the dark canopy above, his expression a mix of awe and terror. “Has he spoken to you lately?” he asked, directed at Cassie.
Cassie let out a small smile. “Even as one gifted by His bounty before, I don’t know everything the Dungeon Lord designs. In time, when the Shroud is ready to lift, He will speak to me. Until then, we wait for His signs.”
“His will is as mighty as the air we breathe,” Rachel mused.
“It has been months since the Dungeon Lord has spoken to us,” Caleb said. “We’ve killed those people through His bidding and still no answer?”
Cassie took a deep breath. “In time, He will.”
“Is He angry with us?”
Cassie whirled around. “Angry? He wouldn’t be angry with us if He’s inviting us into His domain now, would he?”
Caleb shrank back. “I...I guess not.”
“Have patience, brother Caleb. We are all unworthy of His gifts, but the path we are all on eventually will lead back to Him. Everyone is tethered to our Lord since the day they were born. Because He is what?”
Caleb gulped. “He is Death?”
“And? What else has Xavier taught us?”
“That all flesh must be under His shroud for the final judgement until we take our last breath, and the end of time.”
Cassie beamed a smile. “Correct! You’ve done your reading, I see. Good job! Now stop complaining. Don’t be so jealous that I delved and you didn’t. If you keep complaining, It’s so easy to curl this fist of mine, and squash your head like a ripe melon?”
Caleb stopped on his tracks and took a lungful of breath. “No! I mean no offense, Sister Cassandra. I...I love His lordship. I don’t mean to be impatient of His miracles. He has done enough for me and, and...”
“You mean we have done so much for you?” Cassie stepped into his personal space, her hand reaching up to pat his cheek. Slap. Slap. “Don’t forget the mercy we have done for your very controlling mother, as you wished it. We uplifted you. We showed you the truth behind the veil of this world. If you still have doubts, Brother Caleb, don’t be afraid to take them to me. Or Brother Gordon. Or Xavier himself—he’s actually experienced Ascension, you know. You want to ascend, don't you?”
Caleb looked down at his boots. “I do.”
“Then be a good boy and gaze upon His love with a little more respect, okay?” She gave his cheek one final, lingering pinch before turning on her heel and skipping ahead to Joshua.
Caleb just shrank even further as Rachel gave him a pitied look and then followed after Cassie. For a heartbeat, Caleb wanted to grab the heaviest rock he could find and bash Cassie’s skull in, imagined the weight of it, the satisfying crunch of bone and would savor every little detail as that smug face of hers waned from her eyes as it went hollow.
You better speak nicely to your elders next time, cunt, Caleb imagined himself saying.
He was glad he controlled himself. Yeah that won’t end well, he thought. He doubted he’d ever get close enough even if he tried. He’d seen Cassie rip someone’s spine off their body without lifting a finger. There was a reason why Xavier kept her close. She was the church’s official witch who could glean into the dreaming world for their lordship’s signs. How could Caleb stand against that kind of power, armed only with a butcher’s knife?
I watched the conflict flickered in Caleb's mind and faded away. It was a wise choice. I didn’t need a fight on Trail A, especially not while the Dead Pacifica crew was still setting up and wandering around. Fortunately, Oracle already turned off the cameras along the trail so that Owen wouldn’t see them, but he was already too busy chatting with Wendy to even notice.
Caleb was right not to fight Cassie head-on. She was a rare find, a natural sorcerer born with the gift even without my existence. She was like Coach Hodge or Madame Dallaire, but instead of pyromancy, divination and foresight, she was gifted with Telekinesis. Her delve, guided by Xavier, made her one of the two survivors of her delving group. She wished to learn more about her gifts and grow her powers, and The System—and myself—had turned Cassandra Pratt into a terrifying sorcerer.
Taking another deep breath and forcing a smile, Caleb followed after the group.
Joshua suddenly raised his fist. The group froze and stopped walking. He heard something and pointed at the area to their left. They half-expected to see another Dead Pacifica crew member wandering about, and Cassie’s heart skipped a beat from the excitement that they might have to draw some blood tonight, after all. But Rachel tapped her shoulder and pointed toward the trees.
Perched on the branches that should have snapped under her weight, curled black wings around her body like a thick cloak, was Lady Asfrid, the fallen valkyrie, watching them with an intense, sharp gaze. She unfurled her soot and ash-covered wings and swooped down silently as a falling leaf, leaving no wake or dust disturbed as she landed in front of them.
Even then, as she stood several feet away, was a nightmare to behold. Half her head was crowned with a halo of rusted razor wires, slicing through skin and piercing through her skull by dried blood, matted black hair, and volcanic fire. It blinded the top half of her face, leaving only her mouth visible, a peeled ruin of parched, retracted lips and yellowed teeth. She was tall and lithe, draped in leather crafted out of the human skin of her felled foes, cured and scorched as if she was wearing all black and dark brown. Etched on the surface were markings of warriors fighting awful beasts in a tapestry of war.
Lady Asfrid was not pleased with their tardiness.
“You are late,” she said. She sounded like a decades-old chainsmoker with their throat ripped out and put back together with flimsy duct tape. It was grating and rough to hear.
“Sorry. We decided to take the scenic route,” Rachel said nervously. She had never seen the valkyrie before. None of them had interacted with the archetypes often enough except for the Sawyers, who could blend in better than anyone for they were the closest to being human outside of a full moon. Even they kept their interactions with the church at a minimum.
Lady Asfrid took a step forward. The others backed away but only Cassie wasn’t afraid and held her ground. “He summoned us,” Cassie said.
“I know,” Asfrid said. “You must heed your summons with more haste in the future, wormling, else my impatience will be your undoing.”
Cassie shrugged. “You’re here to escort us, then?”
Asfrid took that as a slight. She tilted her head, and smiled whatever was left of her charred lips. “Ah. You think your little spark makes us equals? Your sorcery is no match for me, child. I can take off your head before you utter the spell. I was chosen by Odin himself, who armored me and armed me in the halls of the gods. And now, I serve the new God of Death.”
Cassie’s pulse was raising, but composed herself for the others not to notice. Lady Asfrid leaned in, smelling like the grave.
“Do not test me with your ignorance and your arrogance further. Come. He is waiting.”
They followed Lady Asfrid up the trail, although I noticed that they had maintained a ten-foot wide distance from the Valkyrie. As they walked for ten minutes, it was Rachel who broke the silence.
“May I ask what does the Dungeon Lord want from us?” She asked.
Lady Asfrid chuckled. “Why spoil such surprises, Robertsdottir?”
“It’s just that...he has never summoned us before. We usually do the summoning?”
“Then mayhaps, the Dungeon Lord hath seen through your abject devotion? Mayhaps...mayhaps...” Lady Asfrid’s chuckle grew louder.
Caleb tugged on Rachel’s elbow and pointed to their flank. While talking to the valkyrie, she didn’t notice that several giant spiders were walking with them. Until then, she realized Cassie and Lady Asfrid had been taking them to the mines.LADY ASFRID, THE FALLEN VALKYRIEDread Score: 5/10Creature Type: AngelicCooldown: 1 weekSpecial TraitsFallen Angel IAs an angel, the archetype possessed the durability of celestial creatures. The archetype also possesses the ability to fly at the speed of sound. Angel wings can be turned into a diamond-crusted shield, impenetrable to most ballistics and melee strikes. The tip of their wings are razor-sharp, allowing them to slice through delvers.
Select a Weapon of Choice (ObsidianGreatsword): the archetype can summon out of thin air and wield a massive greatsword, with the ability to nearly cut through any material, except for Lead. This has the magical trait.
The archetype must be of the Angelic Creature Type to select this trait.Soul Sense IThe archetype is granted soul-sense in a 100-yard radius. They can detect the exact location of any hidden delver regardless of cover. They are also immune to darkness, smoke, fog, or illusionary spells that changes a humanoid’s face.
Only divination artifacts worn by delvers are immune to soul-sense.Justiciar Mastery IIThe archetype is an extremely skilled combatant, regarding all forms of combat, and can adapt their fighting style based on their opponent. They are fast, agile, and possesses the raw strength to solo a heavily armed team of delvers. This trait allows an archetype to become a formidable foe to delving knights, platoons, and elite soldiers.
This tale has been pilfered from novelhall. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
At Level II: The archetype is granted a Fortune Ability. You have selected: Binding Exchange. Once per scenario, the archetype can target one (1) delver with visions of Cosmic Knowledge, a stunning effect. This will drain instantly a High Resolve delver to low Resolve. The archetype can then heal and increase the potency of their traits and abilities for one hour. The delver can never recover this Resolve until the duration ends.Smitty’s Mine, opened by one of those robber barons from the late 1800s, was a sprawling monument of Point Hope’s bright industry from the early 1900s to the mid-eighties before the Columbia Silverbarrow Co. collapsed and closed it into the rotting metal carcass that it was now; a decommissioned processing site that looked like a jagged tooth rising out of the mountainside. Many jobs were lost, and the town fell apart, only to be revitalized by the local college and tourism from urbanites.
A cluster of pre-fab staff buildings for offices, mills, and locker rooms made of corrugated steel sat hunched and peeling under the hemlocks. Their windows were either boarded up or shattered, and the doors hung off their hinges, revealing interiors filled with water-damaged clipboards and overturned swivel chairs. Most of Mother Nature was taking back what was once hers. A heavy, industrial ventilation housing stood near the main office, its massive fan blades frozen in a permanent state. Even though the power had been cut decades ago, a strong gust would occasionally catch the fans, causing them to groan with a metallic, dying screech that echoed through the valley.
As they walked through the massive site, they passed dozens of rusted steel carts sat derailed on narrow-gauge tracks next to Caterpillar trucks, their basins filled with stagnant rainwater and dead leaves. A massive, yellow diesel generator lay on its side, stripped of its copper wiring like a picked-over metal animal. Rotted conveyor belts, cracked by years of frost and sun, draped over the entrance like the tongue of a giant beast. Thick, ribbed yellow tubes once used to pump air into the deep snaked across the gravel like a giant larvae, now shredded and useless.
The mine entrance itself was a squared-off concrete portal at least twenty feet high, stained dark by decades of mineral runoff. Above the maw, a faded sign still hung by a single bolt: COLUMBIA SILVERBARROW COMPANY — SAFETY FIRST! But as they approached, the rust on the iron didn't look like oxidation, but more like dripping dried blood.
Xavier and his right-hand man, Gordon, was already waiting there with two more archetypes. Mother Gertrude sat on one of the upturned mining carts, stitching a handkerchief. But the second archetype gave Rachel pause, felt like her throat almost fell into her stomach when she gazed upon Goliath. A flash of memory crossed her mind: her alcoholic husband slumped in the kitchen, his throat packed with enough rat poison to kill a dozen horses. Her good-for-nothing son and his whore of a wife gutted at the boathouse from the same man that now stood before her. But all she could feel was awe and reverence from the giant that freed her from a prison she thought she couldn’t escape from. She wanted to thank him, but with the others nearby, she didn’t want to be indiscreet.
Xavier beamed a smile and met Cassie halfway with a warm hug. “Thank you for being here,” he said. “All of you. This is a momentous occasion.”
“Very momentous, yes,” Cassie said, who couldn’t contain her excitement that the archetypes have finally acknowledged them.
Caleb glanced around, noticing the lack of a crowd. “And the rest of the congregation?”
“Waiting near the grove by the Core Tree, per Mother Gertrude’s request. Sister Melissa is keeping a close eye on them,” Xavier said.
A collective sigh of relief passed between Rachel and Caleb, only tempered by a flicker of pity for anyone currently stuck with Melissa Poole.
Melissa was the Church’s most fervent devotee of the Antlered God, and in Caleb’s estimation, she was far more dangerous than Cassie; cruel and maniacal if Xavier, Gordon, or Cassie weren’t around. She was obsessed with the idea to delve and be rewarded with what she thought was rightfully hers: her sister’s husband, Shawn, and their children. The cult could have easily gotten rid of the sister, but no. She wanted her erased from existence and for Shawn to love her from the very beginning, and then for her to birthed the children that her sister gave birth to. Xavier had deemed her unworthy for the games yet, much to Caleb’s relief. Frankly, he thought he deserved it more than the psychopath.
I delved into that woman’s thoughts, and it was rough diving through her brand of crazy. I gave her visions that she needed therapy rather than murdering people as an escape, but she took it the wrong way that she was one of the chosen, and Xavier has selected her as part of the inner circle of the church. She was a nurse, the church’s healer, and knew what drugs to use to deal with their victims, which made her quite valuable for the cult.
“Did they told you why we’re here?” Cassie whispered to Xavier.
Xavier shook his head. He turned around and walked back to where Mother Gertrude was sitting. “This is everyone,” he said. “What is the Dungeon Lord’s orders?”
Mother Gertrude did not answer him, too busy finishing the final stitches of her embroidery before she glanced at the entrance. Lady Asfrid glided toward the mouth of the mines and stood next to Goliath. Then the sound came from the deep.
It started as a thud, heavy and squelching. A horse’s neigh followed, then came the hooves. Shanks emerged from the dark, a dark warhorse from Hell with piercing red eyes glowing under the shadows as it emerged into the light.
Baron Lothar, a headless knight mounted on the back of this beast, wore a dark cloak of matted fur draped over a tabard stained with the golden sigil of the Core Tree. Above the gorget, there was nothing. No head. No neck. Just a cauterized, jagged stump of scarred meat and sealed veins. If he was on the ground, he would stand at nearly seven feet tall (yes, even without the head). There were no signs of the knight’s head anywhere, kept away from mortals (even the Church of the Unworthy) to avoid complications. Baron Lothar was cautious, and though he was an unstoppable killing machine, immortal in a sense, he’d rather not be reunited with his head. When joined as one, his powers and strength grew exponentially, but there in lay his weakness for he could now be killed like any mortal man.
Without it, he could be blown apart by dynamite, limbs ripped, burned to death, melted by acid, thrown into a pool of lava, and he’d spawn in ten minutes, ready to keep stalking after the surviving delvers. He had only been chosen once as a sole hunter two months ago by eight escaped convicts from a bus crash that occurred that same night. The delve lasted for four hours and thirty-seven minutes and there were no survivors.
Shanks and Baron Lothar stopped beside Mother Gertrude, the horse’s breath coming in hot, foul clouds. Behind the beast, a thick cord of spider silk trailed in the gravel, dragging three white, pulsating cocoons. The men inside weren’t dead—not yet, at least. Lothar dismounted and pulled out his halberd, which looked small against his size.
Mother Gertrude set down her embroidery hoop and grabbed her cane, her knuckles like a bag of marbles under parchment skin, and stood up. She looked toward the space where I was hovering, waiting for the signal.
I nodded my head to begin.
“The Dungeon Lord has a new purpose for you, child,” Mother Gertrude rasped. “A new vision for this little church you have built in His honor. You have done well in the six months since its inception. And you have proven several of us wrong, including me.”
Xavier’s face went pale, then flushed with a desperate, hungry ambition. “Are you offering me...to be one of you?”
Mother Gertrude cackled with a dry, hacking sound that ended in a wet cough. “Calm yourself, boy. Don't go pissing your trousers just yet. You think this is easy? We all clawed our way through the guts of our worlds to earn our seats. Everything has a price, and time is the only ally you’ll ever have.” She leaned in close. “The Lord has seen a use for you, Xavier Yates. For you and the rest of your flock. Two tasks.
Xavier swallowed hard, his eyes darting from the headless knight and the valkyrie to the cocoons in the dirt. “What is it?”
“You may not know this, but the Astarothians attacked our liege a month ago.”
Shock rippled through the cultists. It was the first time they were hearing about this. Xavier was even troubled.
“That’s bold of them,” Xavier said.
“Quite right. Which is why the Dungeon Lord is advancing all of his plans to this upcoming delve.”
Cassie giggled. “I was right. There is going to be a delving night. Do you mean those idiots around the cabin?”
Mother Gertrude nodded. “Dead Pacifica is the main delving group, but we are already aware of several factions moving in to join in the fray. We are all inviting them in to the bloodbath.”
Xavier knew what that meant, and he nodded in return. “Does the Dungeon Lord seek a bountiful reaping?”
“Yes.”
“How many essences?”
“Enough to build the second dungeon and bring the fight to the Astarothians’ doorstep.”
“But he needs more?”
“We have calculated what we needed, but in the circumstances that several delvers manage to escape or make it until dawn, we may need more to be safe.”
Xavier stood silent for a long moment. “My sister has a coven. The feeding of Coach Hodge gave our liege quite a sum of essences, didn’t it? For being a sorcerer? The Sawyers told me when I was...” Xavier frowned. “...when I was still one of them.”
Mother Gertrude looked surprised and turned to me. I motioned for her to keep going.
“You will willingly sacrifice your own blood?” She asked with a hint of respect.
“I know where she hides,” he said. “I can bring her and her coven to the Dungeon Lord. If she survives again, then her pain and suffering will bring her salvation. If she dies, I know she is not lost. She will be part of Him forever, and that is a greater gift than most.”
“I admire your devotion to our Lord, Xavier Yates,” Mother Gertrude said, and I caught a hint that she meant that genuinely.
I’ll admit, the thought of six more “Coach Hodges” was enough to make my Core pulse with anticipation. These mages had been sipping from the weave of magic for years; even a spark of that old power produces a far richer essence than a thousand mundane humans. I needed to build that second dungeon in New York as fast as possible, and though it was disheartening that I had to bring another veteran delver into my influence, I hoped she was strong enough to survive another night. For all of them to be strong against the horrors I would unleash. It’s funny that even monsters like me rooted for their food to crawl out of my plate alive.
“If he’s willing to pay that price,” I projected through the Shroud, “tell him to bring them to me.”
Mother Gertrude dipped her head. “The Lord is pleased, Xavier. He grants you this task.”
Xavier puffed up his chest and forced a smile, but his eyes had turned glassy. “Thank you. Is that all He wants from us?”
“Not by half.” Mother Gertrude pulled out a white envelope from her cloak and gave it to Xavier. “Inside are three tickets to New York City, First Class. There will be a car waiting for them that will take them to a new lodging in—” Mother Gertrude paused, got annoyed, and pulled out a piece of paper from her sleeve. “—in Midtown, Manhattan. These tickets are ayro-plane tickets, if you don’t know. Not an airship, as I’ve been told doesn’t exist in this wretched backwater planet. And the lodging is called a con-do-min-ium. Select three among your acolytes to go.”
Xavier took the envelope. “What will we do there?”
“This is a task of greater importance to our Lord. The Astarothians are in the city, a bastion of their order. You will spy on them and report your findings to us. And you will also prepare the city for our Lord’s arrival. Though we can travel out of the dungeon’s borders ourselves, our powers are less...dependable. Your mortality has some usefulness.”
Xavier turned toward the others and they nodded. “This will be done.”
“As for the second task.” Mother Gertrude turned and pointed with her cane toward the three pulsating bundles of silk. “These are the cultist soldiers that they sent to kill our Lord. He already fed on the other prisoners, but these are the ones that’s left. Oh, and also their leader, who is a guest in the Spider Queen’s dungeons.”
“I will gladly cut them open, if that’s what you wish,” Cassie said and pulled out a knife hidden behind her back.
Mother Gertrude sighed. “Put the toy away, little girl. As much as that will be fun to watch, the Dungeon Lord wants to perform an experiment by combining your devotion and rituals with the delves. He is curious if we can make the math work in our favor.”
Cassie tilted her head, the knife still clutched in her hand. “Um, math?”
Mother Gertrude continued, “Your rituals and fervent devotion to our Lord has provided him with essences he can spend to grow his influence and love.” Hearing that made the cultists happy, especially Xavier. “But He noticed that when combined with your ritual killings, your Faith increases exponentially. He wonders, if such rituals are to be integrated to a delving night, it may have an effect?”
I couldn’t ignore my cult forever, and they were an asset to a Death Core. The church accumulated more Faith Points whenever they hunted and killed their victims. I wondered if the church could also affect the amount of crystals and essences I would get from delvers who they projected their faith and rituals to. It wouldn’t hurt to try especially when I was expecting at least thirty delvers in three days for the chance to increase an average net of one or two essences per delver to something much higher. Unfortunately, The System wasn’t very helpful with telling me about these rules, forcing me to do this instead. It hadn’t tried to stop or warn me, which was a good sign.
“Once the Dead Pacifica crew leaves for town, there will be a delve tonight for these three men. You will perform your church’s rituals.”
“Which kind?” Xavier asked.
“Any will do. This a new ground for us all.”
Xavier nodded. “Yeah. We can do it. We will make Him proud.”
“I’m sure you will, boy. Now, get to it. Drag these sacks of meat to the Core Tree where the rest of your congregation awaits. That’s your altar tonight. We won't be around to hold your hands; we have our own preparations for the Selection.” She paused, her eyes narrowing behind her thick brows. “Clear the grounds once the Selection Chamber manifests. Let these men choose their Hunter in peace.”
Mother Gertrude gathered the other archetypes around her, and with a single exhale, an immense shadow projected outward from the palm of her hand, and teleported everyone to their lairs, leaving only Xavier and his flock to stand in awe.
Xavier gritted his teeth and walked toward the first cocoon, dragging it with his bare hands. “Let’s get to it!” He called out to the others.BARON LOTHAR, THE HELL KNIGHTDread Score: 6/10Creature Type: DemonicCooldown: 1 weekSpecial TraitsHell Knight IThis archetype is forged and trained under the great noble houses of Hell for a thousand years. They are a master tactician, adaptable in all terrain and manners of combat against most delving party. As a denizen of Hell, they have brute strength, inhuman durability, and psychic capabilities for minor forms of magic.
Select a Main Weapon: Halberd.
Select a psychic ability: Phantasmal Sensory. The archetype can target one (1) creature to induce a minor hallucination that lasts for one (1) minute. This causes a delver’s Resolve to drop by one degree.Headless Immunity IThe archetype undergoes an ancient ritual that separates their head from their body, granting them a terrifying form of immortality. If the archetype’s body is destroyed or rendered inert, they will respawn thirty (30) feet away from their former body within ten (10) minutes. As long as their head remains separate and intact, they cannot be permanently dismissed from the scenario.
If the head and body are joined, the archetype’s powers and abilities increase exponentially (Boost: +100% to all stats). However, they lose their immunity. In this state, they can be injured and killed “permanently,” following standard cooldown rules for archetypes.Mounted Rider (Steed) IThis archetype has a Hell Knight trait, granting access to beasts from Hell. You have selected: Steed. The hell-beast possesses a powerful bite with razor-sharp, serrated teeth and a kick capable of caving in a delver’s ribcage or sending them flying through the air.
Select two attribute improvements: Strength and Endurance. The hell-beast can withstand an incredible amount of punishment, acting as a secondary shield for the archetype. They can charge through barricades, walls, overturned vehicles, and dense brush without losing momentum.
They have the minion trait. With Headless Immunity, the hell-beast can be summoned after the archetype respawns and will take another ten (10) minutes.