Grand Game 350: A Spate of Tests (Patreon)

Before beginning my campaign against the stygians I had a few checks to conduct.

The first concerned my stealth.

I already knew from experience that the nether would not conceal me from the spores’ truesight. What about other obstacles though? Would the spores be able to see me through them?

I doubted it. But I had to be certain. Time to test the theory.

Standing in the center of the safe zone and in full view of any stygian that might be watching from beyond, I attempted to wrap myself in shadows.

Multiple unknown entities have detected you! You cannot hide here.

Right, that went exactly as expected. Sweeping my gaze from left to right I studied the handful of ruined buildings in the safe zone. Almost none had four walls remaining, and what roofs they claimed were gutted and in imminent danger of falling. Still, for the purposes of my test, any one of the buildings would suffice.

Striding to the largest structure—a squat, low building that in its prime must have served as a great hall—I slipped inside and gingerly picked through the debris while trying not to disturb any of the structural beams still standing.

I came to a stop in the darkest corner I could find and turned about in a slow circle. I could see no part of the encircling fog, which meant no watching spore could see me either.

Dropping into a crouch, I drew the shadows to me.

You are hidden.

I smiled, pleased by the success of my test. The spores’ truesight was not infallible. I could hide from the creatures, but to do so I would have to use the terrain to good effect.

It did not matter that that I had little idea what the terrain  outside the safe zone was like, or that my fog-impaired vision made figuring that out difficult, it was a surmountable challenge, and one I would overcome.

On to check number two.

Exiting the building, I strode to the pond next to the rebirth well. Kneeling down, I cupped hands and took a tentative sip.

The water tasted clean and refreshing.

I exhaled in relief. I had drinking water—enough to last for weeks, if not longer. Standing anew, I turned my attention towards my next concern: food. All told, there were a dozen trees in the safe zone and each seemed to bear fruits of some sorts. The oblong-growing shapes on the bushes also looked promising. Walking over to the nearest tree, I plucked a fruit, and before I could reconsider, bit off a large mouthful and chewed with deliberate care.

The fruit was... delicious.

I smiled, ignoring the sticky juices dribbling down my chin. An oasis indeed. Thanks to the safe zone’s bounty, I had a secure supply of both food and water and could stay put for weeks if necessary. Not that I wanted to. Finishing the fruit, I faced the nearest wall of fog.

It was time for my final set of checks.

✵ ✵ ✵

In plain sight and affecting a nonchalance I did not quite feel I marched out of the safe zone.

Warning: You have entered the nether! The nether toxicity at your current location is at tier 6. You are unprotected.

The weavers had already disappeared from my mindsight, raising their mental shields the moment I slipped into the fog. The remaining stygians’ mindglows were clearly visible though, and I watched them intently.

A minute passed and my health and energy reserves slipped downward. The stygians could see me, I knew that much. It was not enough, though. I had to know more. Folding my arms, I waited.

Another minute passed, and I felt myself weaken further, but still, no assault came. Certain now that the stygians wouldn’t attack while I remained so close to the safe zone, I took three careful steps forward.

There was no response.

I covered another yard.

Still nothing. Resting my right hand on ebonheart, I continued advancing. The black blade was of no use against the stygians, but holding its hilt provided me with some measure of comfort.

A minute later, I was nine yards into the fog, but the stygians had yet to bestir themselves. I paused, wondering if I should go on. My energy levels had dropped substantially, and I could already feel myself flagging. Turning my focus inwards, I checked my status.

Health, stamina and psi remaining: 49%. Mana remaining: 43%.

“Damn,” I muttered. My mana was depleting faster than everything else, and for a moment I didn’t understand why. Then, it hit me.

It was my void armor.

My armor was consuming mana in order to resist the void’s touch. It was another unforeseen wrinkle and meant I could spend even less time in the fog than I’d originally imagined.

I glanced over my shoulder. The safe zone was already hidden from sight. I have to return soon, I thought. It was that, risk becoming lost, or worse. I can manage another couple of yards at least, I decided and took three more steps forward.

The stygians stirred.

I couldn’t see the creatures themselves, of course. But across the distance that separated us, I heard the slither of serpentine coils and the stamp of heavy hydra feet. The creatures were charging.

That’s it then, I thought. Fifty yards was as close as the stygians would allow me to approach before they reacted.

It was time to retreat, but I still had one more test in mind. It was the most difficult and would require a live stygian to perform.

I knew the Game stopped players from harming one another when inside a safe zone, but I was less certain about its response to assaults made across a safe zone’s boundary. Would the Adjudicator allow the stygians’ attacks to pass through from outside? Or my own to reach them from inside?

I suspected not, but again, needed to confirm my theory. And there was only one way to do that.

The onrushing horde of mindglows drew closer. Not flinching, I drew psi and backstepped carefully. By the time I reached the edge of the safe zone, the stygians were less than twenty yards away. Tense, I waited for the first attack.

A projectile appeared in the mist.

The yellow ichor was hurtling on a direct course for my face. I had only a split second to observe it but recognized immediately what it was: a blight thorn fired from an unseen weaver. Not taking my eyes off the missile, I sprang backwards.

You have entered a safe zone.

Midair, the projectile stopped as if it had struck an invisible barrier—which it had.

I smiled tightly. So, the Game would stop the stygian’s attacks. Now, to test the other part. Releasing the spell I’d woven in my mind, I targeted a random stygian.

Your spell has fizzled. Combat spells cannot be cast while you are inside a safe zone.

Huh. The Game response, while expected, was disappointing. Drawing ebonheart in one smooth motion, I flung it directly at the stygian in question. But just like the blight thorn had, the sword bounced off the invisible barrier and fell to the ground.

This time, there was no accompanying message from the Game.

Sighing, I sat down on the grass. My tests were complete, and I couldn’t say the results were surprising. The safe zone would shelter and protect me, perhaps indefinitely. But beyond that I was on my own.

Like always. Closing my eyes, I began meditating.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have fully restored your health, mana, and psi.

You have replenished 30% of your stamina with an unidentified collection of fruits. Your stamina is at 64%.

After I recovered from my jaunt into the fog, I searched the safe zone’s ruined buildings. Each of my upcoming forays into the nether would have to be planned meticulously, with the intent of not just killing stygians, but also mapping out the terrain.

Which was why before venturing out, I had to craft myself some equipment.

Creating the gear almost had me feeling nostalgic. I had done this before—or something similar—on the tundra, and this time the work went much faster.

The safe zone gave me more to work with too. The buildings, while not exactly treasure troves, had plenty of material to spare: rusted metal, frayed bits of ropes, pieces of wood, broken crockery, and so on.

While I worked, I wondered about the safe zone. It was readily apparent it had been abandoned centuries ago, perhaps the very day Elron’s home sector had been overtaken by the void. From the marshal’s own words, I knew that to be a long time ago, and I no longer had to guess what had happened to the players in the dungeon.

They had become the possessed—or had been taken over by them.

This, however, prompted a whole host of other questions. Just how old were the possessed? What had led them to become what they had? And what did this mean for my quest? After finding Ghost and regaining my possessions, I still intended on locating the exile. What sort of creature would she be? And could I secure her aid?

I had no answers to any of these questions.

In my present circumstances, all of them were unanswerable, and picking at the mysteries was fruitless. Still, since it stopped me from worrying about my lost companion, I did nothing to curb my wandering thoughts.

Four hours later I was done with my crafting.

You have created 10 x coils of rope, each made from debris, leaves, and branches.

You have created a primitive hammer. This item has been poorly crafted and will be prone to breaking.

You have created a simple shovel.

You have created a simple pickaxe.

You have created 90 x crude signposts.

You have created a crude bag.

Rising to my feet, I rolled my shoulders and cracked my knuckles, relieving the aches in my arms. I was finally ready, and the time had come to begin my campaign against the stygians in earnest.