Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (38 page)

An effeminate looking male secretary is seated behind a rather large desk outside the door to Sulius' office. When he sees Sulius, the secretary stands up revealing that like his shirt his pants are made of the same type of diaphanous material as Perzey's dress.

“Lord, Sul...” The secretary's voice falters, under Sulius' glare.

“Bring us a pot of Calistene coffee and knock before entering.”

Calist Moors is a Core zone know for its mercenaries. I have never heard anything resembling coffee being grown there.

The secretary's eyes turn toward me, and he cannot keep his obvious disgust hidden. He looks rapidly at Perzey, as though to escape the horror of my ruined face. When his eyes float downward to her big tits, with the still erect nipple, the tent pole in his pants deflates, as his disgust turns into disdain.

“No.”

Perzey pouts, when I do not even let her ask her inevitable question.

The office is trapezoidal. At least a hundred feet deep, its entire outer wall is made crystalline windows, looking out over the harbor. The furniture is all made of thick heavy wood, stained a deep mahogany color, and the desk near the windows is big enough to park a large wagon on. It has been Patterned and is heavily impregnated with Power.

The secretary closes the office door behind us, and Sulius sits down behind his huge desk. His chair is thickly padded and covered with black suede style leather. I do not bother to look for stains on the seat.

After using a kind of a Power infused crystal key, Sulius opens a drawer in the desk. Taking a black scroll case out the drawer, he places it on the desk.

“Please.”

Picking up the scroll case, I stare at the white eye on the outside.

“Since when have The Postmen had dealings with DokkAlfar?”

Sulius sniffs primly. “The Postmen will deal with anyone and everyone who pays the price for our services and does not try to move against us. We do not discriminate in any manner against those seeking our services.”

I open the tube, and take out the scroll inside.

My Dearest Brand,

While we have never met, we have seen each other. I am Kra'cha'len, Priest-Wizard of the Central Fane of Yggr. It is with heartfelt joy that I send this missive to you. The foolish and misdirected actions of the
Left Hand Order of Yggr have been curtailed, and the Temple of Yggr is extending a sincere invitation to you to join our ranks.

As you appear to do, the Temple of Yggr stands in opposition to the vicious manipulations carried out by the renegade that calls itself The Nameless God. We would earnestly welcome your help in dealing with the fools that join in the service of the traitor, and can provide you with support beyond your wildest imagination.

I look forward to hearing at the very least that you wish to meet face to face to discuss the merits of joining the Temple of Yggr.

Sincerely yours,

Kra'cha'len, Priest-Wizard of the Central Fane of Yggr

“You know what this is about.” I gesture at Sulius with the letter.

“I have a general idea and have been given instructions for transmitting your reply to the Fane of Yggr.” Sulius has a demeanor of smug pride.

Sulius gapes, as the paper in my hand burst into flame. Perzey laughs at him, while smiling sweetly.

“You fool, do you understand how much power the Priests of Yggr  have? Were they not offering you a chance to join them?”

My smile is cold. “Idiots, that want to suck the dick of some asshole that calls himself a god, can all go to hell.”

I turn around and start walking to the door. Perzey waves over her shoulder at Sulius. Noises from the corridor outside make me stop.

“Put your armor and weapons on.”

Perzey smiles and strips naked, before taking her armor and weapons harness out of her bracelet. Draping them over my shoulder, she takes out a different loincloth and boots, while standing in front of me still naked.

“Wait! What is she doing?”

I can not even begin to guess how her mind works anymore. She seems to be switching between an innocent killer and a sex starved tease. Why that is making her so much more in touch with the talents and abilities that came with her body, I do not understand.

“You can't leave yet!”

If this was not a regional headquarters form The Postmen, I would be slightly worried. They have some very strong adepts who work as mercenaries in the hinterland of the Battleground, but I have never seen any of them in places like Tallifer. Most of The Postmen's influence comes from their ability to transmit and control information, not their ability to project force.

When Perzey puts on the thin leather shirt she wears under her armor, I turn back to Sulius. His face is oddly pale. There seems to be something else going on here.

“What do you want?”

“You seem to have a history with Thug Horde. You also have connections the mercenary leader Jinmu. We are having problems with Thug Horde, fairly close to Tallifer, and would like hire both yourself and Jinmu's band.”

“Then, why don't you contact Jinmu directly? And for that matter, how do you know about my connections with Jinmu?”

Sulius pales a little more. “Do not underestimate The Postmen's intelligence network.”

“The DokkAlfar told you.”

Sulius' expression stiffens, and his eyes start darting from side to side.

“What did Kra'cha'len tell you?”

Sulius fidgets, not looking me straight in the eye. “Ah . . . he said that you would probably turn down his offer, and we should use you to deal with Thug Horde. Thug Horde is apparently working for that Nameless God, who trapped us all here.”

I already suspected that Thug Horde was working for The Nameless. The DokkAlfar with the band wiped out by the Dvergar and the Priest-Captain's comments pretty much confirmed it. What are the objectives of The Nameless and Yggr? There are too many things I do not know.

“What are you offering?”

Sulius smiles, his eyes lighting up. “One thousand Tallifer golden boats to take part in an assault on a single Thug Horde base.”

For one assault on one base, he is offering a lot of money. Tallifer's coinage is known for its purity, and the golden boat is their largest gold coin.

“Not interested. I don't need money right now.”

Sulius' face blanches, and Perzey laughs. I turn toward the door again.

“Wait! I will give the thousand golden boats, whether you participate in the assault or not, as long as you go to Jinmu with my envoy.”

“Why are you so desperate?”

Sulius stares straight at me. “Priest-Wizard Kra'cha'len said that without your presence, the assault would most like fail. We cannot afford to leave this Thug Horde group unchecked. They are threatening our only relay line between Tallifer and the Troven's Depths region.”

I do not know much about Troven's Depths or the surrounding zones. There is supposed to be a lot of wealth to be had from trading with them, but I do not know any specifics. The only thing I do know is that many of the zones are densely populated, and the inhabitants conduct extensive amounts of magical research.

I look at Perzey and see anger simmering in her eyes.

“Do you want to go?”

Surprise is plastered all over Perzey's face, as she turns to me. “Perzey only wants to go, if Perzey can hurt Xenia.”

“If Xenia attacks you first, do whatever you want. Just leave her alive.”

With a big grin, Perzey wraps her arm around my neck and kisses me, a long lingering kiss. Her body is pressed tightly against mine, while her tongue pushes passionately into my mouth. It would be a lot more enjoyable, if we were not both wearing armor.

After a few minutes, Perzey settles onto the flats of her feet, with her hands still resting on my shoulders. A flush colors her cheeks as, she stares at the middle of my chest.

“Perzey wants to fuck Brand. Perzey . . . Perzey wants to make  Brand feel good.”

Sulius is staring at us, with an expression like he has vomited into his mouth, a few dozen times.

My hand reaches for the door handle.

“What about the envoy?”

I look into Perzey's eyes.

“Have him out front tomorrow noon, with the money and a courier ship waiting. I'll be licking, kissing and fucking my woman until then.”

I do not look back to see what Sulius' gagging noises portend.

The mercenary squad in the corridor falls back in fear, as my aura hits them. Their armor is polished to a brilliant luster, and every one of them has perfect plumes rising from his helm. Their movement are sluggish and show a lack of combat oriented training, but they can probably march on a drill field with the best of them.

I am not sure, if I should laugh or feel insulted. Sulius and his catamite actually thought these gutless popinjays would be a threat to me?

Standing atop the south wall of Emer Valley, Thorrin smiled grimly. Wielding a matched pair of axes forged by Thorrin himself, an inhuman whirlwind was tearing into the backs of the enemy. This was the Talon he remembered from before the Great Fuck Over, an unmatched killing machine. Every Thug that tried to stand against him was cut down in less than three blows.

“Meton! That's Talon! He's coming for you!” Thorrin stood atop a crenelation, pointing at Menton. His laughter echoed from the wall, as the Thug Horde army began to turn toward the source of the cacophony behind them.

Seeing Talon's grin, as his eyes followed Thorrin's pointing finger, Thorrin jumped off the wall and ducked behind the crenelation. A storm of arrows slammed into the wall, where he was hiding, or sailed off into Emer Valley, behind him.

Thug Horde's ranks became disorganized, as they turned in ones and twos to try and stop the engine of death that was carving a path through their center. The Thugs who tried to attack Talon's back, found their bones shattered by kicks and elbows, when Talon would suddenly reverse the direction of his movement. Always moving and always attacking, Talon kept the Thugs from boxing him in or being able to bring more than a few attacks to bear at any one time. The Thugs had to constantly be wary of hitting their comrades and could not attack freely.

The Umbral Sorcerers in the front ranks released their spells, and tentacles malignant darkness began to unfold towards the wall. Casters on the wall tried to block the tentacles with a variety of magical shields, but the darkness dissolved them all.

Staring fearfully at the approaching tendrils of Power, the defenders were milling around. Thorrin knew that it would only take the smallest of pushes to break them, but he had no way to steady them.

Talon, you have to disorder that army enough for me to take advantage of it.

The Umbral Power reached the walls and began to eat through the stone. The former players looked around wildly, many of them looking ready to flee.

“HOLD STEADY, DAMN YOUR EYES! IF YOU RUN, YOU DIE! THE UNDEAD ARE ALREADY ASSAULTING THE NORTH WALL! THERE IS NO PLACE TO FLEE!” Thorrin's bellow echoed form the steep stony ridges on either side of the valley.

Talon was already half way through the Thug Horde formation. Menton was looking in the direction of the approaching Half-Dvergar, an uneasy look on his face.

Thorrin frowned maliciously, waiting for the right time to sortie. If he moved too early, he and anyone with him would be overwhelmed. Only when Talon had drawn enough of Thug Horde's attention would a sortie succeed.

The sound of footsteps on the ramp behind him made Thorrin turn. His brow furrow with irritation. The members of the Rainbow Society had vocally declared their intentions to sit out the battle. Their Society was made up of dozens of small clans, as they called themselves. Each clan was made entirely of the same sex with a patriarch or matriarch in charge. They were all boisterous proponents of their rights to special status as homosexuals.

“What are you doing here, Herodotus?”

Herodotus was a man with a late middle-aged appearance. His thin features and pale skin gave him an unhealthy appearance. Supposedly, a history professor in real life, he was the undisputed leader of the Rainbow Society members trapped by the Great Fuck Over.

“We are here to help.” Herodotus' manner suggested that he was doing something thoroughly beneath his dignity.

Thorrin sneered, not bothering to hide his dislike nor his disgust. “Then get your . . . people up on the walls.”

Turning back to watch the enemy before the walls, Thorrin saw a dozen of the Rainbow Society members spread out across the walkway above the gates. They had drawn their weapons, but many of them were so nervous they could not keep their weapons from quivering, as they tried to look everywhere.

When Thorrin felt the points of two swords against the sides of his neck, the Rainbow Society members around the gates viciously attacked the people around them. Many of their targets fell, but the others fought back. The people Thorrin had gathered to protect the gates were among the toughest of the former players at the southern wall.

“Order everyone to surrender to Menton.”

Thorrin turned his head toward Herodotus, the swords pressed against his neck drawing blood. “What do you faggots think you're doing?”

Herodotus sniffed. “Making sure that bigots like you are removed from power. You scoffed at us demanding the rights accorded us under US and European laws, but Menton is an enlightened leader, who will give us the respect we are entitled to.”

Thorrin spat in Herodotus' face. “Stupid faggot, we expect you to earn what you receive. Menton will make you think Middle-Eastern jihadists were the worlds biggest supporters of homosexual rights. Thug Horde used to have competitions to see who could hunt down and torture the most homos.”

Wiping the phlegm off his face, Herodotus looked down his nose at Thorrin. “Your words are a clear example of your bigoted hatemongering. You cannot even speak respectfully to me, and you expect me to give credence to your words. Menton apologized profusely for the old leadership's detestable actions and has curtailed the practice.”

Herodotus winced, as Thorrin turned his head to look around the gate platform, cutting deeper wounds into his own neck. Except for Herodotus and the two with swords to his neck, the rest of the Rainbow Society members on the platform were too injured to fight or dead. The only things that kept Herodotus and his two lackeys from being attacked were the swords at Thorrin's neck.

Thorrin's frown was murderous, when he turned his head back to Herodotus. “Looks like you three faggots are all that's left. I don't think those ball-less bitches down below are going to be much help to you. Tell your two pansies here to drop the swords.”

“If you do not order your collection of cretins to surrender, we will kill you.”

“Then kill me.”

Herodotus stared at Thorrin agape.

“What's the matter? Did you think I was a gutless homo like you? Kill me, if you have the balls to do it, but you'll be dead within seconds. The Hammers won't let a bunch of faggot traitors get away with murdering me.”

“Steel is stubbornness.” With Thorrin's mumbled words, his eyes glowed faintly, and he looked at the swords against his throat. With a whiplashing motion, the edge of shield and his axe blade struck the swords piercing his neck.

Clang-clatter. Clang-clatter.

The shattered fragments of both swords  lay on the stone of the walkway.

“What kind of a moron gives a Master Smith time to do as he wills to a weapon. Send these faggots to Menton, since they love him so much!”

Thorrin dropped his axe into the hangar on his belt, and grabbed Herodotus by the front of his robes. With a twist and a grunt, Herodotus' body was sent flying over the crenelations of the wall.