The Witch #2
Merlin just grunted in agreement before overtaking the lead at the top of the stairs and taking them into the gaming room, where four full rigs were ready to go.
Lancelot settled into the one he'd used before, shifting around to get comfortable as it closed up and the life support system kicked into gear.
Normally such a hardcore arrangement wouldn't be necessary, but given that Maleagant seemed capable of trapping them for as long as he damned well pleased… best to be prepared.
As if echoing his thoughts, Dred said, "What happens if the house loses power?"
"Generators in the basement, no outside access, and I changed the code, so I'm the only one with access to the room. Even the government would have to really work at it to get access."
Dred nodded and slid into his own unit, the hiss of the door closing the last thing Lancelot heard before his own sealed off completely and communication switched over to coms.
The equipment settled into place, and it only took a touch of his fingertip to log in.
Moments later, they were standing in front of a small house, a ramshackle cabin that also had a shed and a rickety stable with room enough for two horses. "Where are we?"
"I bought a house. It makes a better spawn point than any of the general ones. Plus, we're already halfway to Camelot from here."
"Is that where we're headed today?" Dred asked.
Merlin shook his head and pulled up a map. "No, if they took Morgan but didn't kill her, then they want her for something."
"She is the Witch of the Shadows," Lancelot said.
"You'll not find a more powerful witch anywhere, and only you and Guinevere come close.
" Maleagant, powerful as he was, used supplementary power, most often stolen from other people.
Morgan had never needed anyone but herself.
Combined with her lover and best friend?
Of course Maleagant had been forced to dangerously overreach to win.
"Makes me wonder why they haven't done it already. They managed to take Galehaut, and so thoroughly he didn't recognize his own beloved when fighting against him. So why haven't they already got Morgan too?"
Lancelot flinched.
"This venture will definitely go a long way toward answering those questions and getting him back." Merlin touched various points on the map. "I think any of these three locations is the likeliest."
Dred snorted. "A graveyard, a cursed swamp, and a forgotten temple. Yeah, those track. Please don't suggest we split up."
"Hell no," Merlin said. "We'll start with the temple, as it seems the least likely, honestly, and will narrow the search from there.
Hopefully one of these three works out, because otherwise we'll have to start all over, and that's going to get exhausting fast. Lance, you keep an eye on when we're no longer able to exit as we please. "
"Affirm."
They mounted their patiently waiting horses and rode off. Lancelot kept the map up in one corner for just himself and quietly pinged his commands every twenty minutes or so, testing minor things like the sensory sims, since those tended to fail alongside the ability to leave the game.
Perhaps an hour or so later, because seriously the map in this game was ridiculous, they reached the 'forgotten' temple.
It had an Aztec vibe to it, though didn't seem like it was trying to be authentic in any way.
"If this is the home of cannibals or something, I'm going to roll my eyes so hard the game thinks I need to be kicked out for health problems."
Dred snorted. "Says the knight with a katana."
"Oh, shut up. I'd fix it if I could, but it seems stuck in this form. Why hasn't your sword changed?"
"Don't ask me," Dred said with a shrug. "Maybe it's something to do with you being the first. It had to reach you, and surrendered some measure of control in order to be able to do that."
"More or less," Merlin replied. "Yours is the only sword that didn't have to be found or fought for.
It was ready and waiting for you, but that means surrendering other things in balance.
So its form in this life was randomized.
Just window dressing, though. It's exactly the same in every way that matters. "
"At least it didn't turn into a gun or something, I suppose.
" Lancelot dismounted and led the way through what was left of an entrance onto the temple grounds proper.
Stone, moss, weird statues, small pools of water, beams of sunlight breaking through a heavy canopy…
It was all there: check, check and check. "Doesn't feel creepy enough."
Merlin laughed. "I was going to say seems too calm, but that works too. Spread out and give it a sweep to be thorough, but yeah, I think we can check the temple off."
"Still able to leave if I wanted," Lancelot added for good measure.
He took the lower entrance to the temple, leaving one of the others to climb the five million stairs to the top.
A quick sweep only revealed bones, more bones, mysterious chests and urns, and a small pool of something that definitely wasn't water.
"Can't wait to see what the missions here entail. "
Dred snorted. "If down there is anything like up here, I think you're right about the cannibals."
Merlin added, "All the bones around the temple seem to confirm that. How utterly cliché."
"Not like the rest of the game is an ode to originality." Lancelot stopped just as Dred landed on the ground mere steps ahead of him, leaving a small indent from the impact. "Did you take fall damage from that?"
"Only a little bit. It'll regenerate without issue. Another good tell we're in the wrong place. What's next, wild man?"
Merlin pulled up the map and lit up a spot. "The swamp is the next closest. That would be Morgan's choice. She always loved the creepy, child-eating bog witch aesthetic."
"Nevermind she'd sooner kill herself than so much as scratch a child," Lancelot replied.
Grinning as he swung back up into the saddle, Merlin led them away from the temple and back to the road, headed northwest toward the Swamp of Lost Memories. What a name. "Wait, what was the temple called? I forgot to look."
"Temple of the Blood Moon."
"Wow. Creative."
Merlin and Dred laughed.
Another forty minutes of travel later, they arrived at the Swamp of Lost Memories on the heels of a storm. "Is the storm set or a randomization?" Dred asked.
"Random," Merlin replied. "Am I the only one who read all the notes and datamined information?"
"Yes," Dred and Lancelot said together.
Merlin rolled his eyes.
As they reached the edge of the swamp, Lancelot dismounted, secured his horse in a safe location, and then trawled his inventory for a suitable get up. He was not tromping through a swamp in full plate. He was reckless, not stupid.
Dressed in gear that had more of a 20th century look than 15th century, he jumped into the water where it seemed to be not more than waist deep and headed off, Merlin and Dred in line right behind him, Dred holding a lantern to ward off the worst of the dark, and Merlin at the ready with his magic.
Only minutes in, though, he could sense that this wasn't the place they were looking for. "I don't think they're going to be here."
"Me neither," Merlin said with a sigh.
"Let's hope we have more luck at the graveyard, which honestly seems more Maleagant's style. I mean, the man does love working with the dead."
"Because even the worst of the living want nothing to do with him," Lancelot muttered.
They did a bit more searching just to be thorough, but once again trekked out still on the hunt. A quick look at the map showed the graveyard was thankfully only twenty or so minutes away. "When do we get things that fly, for the love of god? Where's your hacking skills with that."
"They haven't released any of the flying mounts yet, precisely because of people like me," Merlin replied.
Lancelot laughed, changed back into his armor, and off they went.
Unfortunately, the storm went with them, and by the time they reached the graveyard, spreading out along the east side of an enormous, spooky looking cathedral, it was cold, dark, and raining so hard it hurt his face.
Thunder boomed, and lightning cut jaggedly through the clouds, occasionally striking the ground with brutal force, destroying houses and trees and more. "What are the odds of getting struck?"
"A little less than one percent," Merlin replied.
Dred grimaced. They had been struck by lightning once, and at least in their past life, had borne the scars to prove it. Catching Lance's inquisitive look, Dred rolled their eyes. "Oh, I got struck in this life too. Fifteen, same as the first time. Was doing some foraging in the wrong damn tree."
"Christ."
"Basically."
The gates to the cemetery could have fallen right out of a book about Halloween, complete with a creepy spider formed from wrought iron and spooky purple lights that flickered brightly, despite the driving rain.
Lancelot once more dismounted, but this time he let his horse wander as it pleased, off to a much safer location.
He didn't need to step into the graveyard to know they were, at last, in the right place.
Just to confirm, he pulled up his menu and tried to leave.
And couldn't. "Yeah, this is the place. We're locked down. "
"Interesting," Merlin said, and pulled up something that Lancelot couldn't see. "Have to analyze more closely later. I think I'm close to cracking it."
What 'it' was, exactly, Lancelot couldn't begin to guess, though he got the general idea. "Dred, ro-sham-bo for lead."
Grinning, Dred slid down from their horse, and they rolled rock, paper, scissors, best of three. Lancelot swore softly, without heat, when Dred won. Grinning triumphantly, Dred shoved open the graveyard gates and then drew his sword before leading the way inside.