Sophia Garcia
Stories
8
Chapters
3,710
Words
2.7 M
Comments
0
Reading
9 d, 5 h
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Two weeks had passed since Jalel’s death, with little gained other than a couple levels for each of them and no results in terms of a way out. Kajit had also been very quiet ever since Riven had denied her request, ever since he’d said he had more important things to do at the moment. She had yet to show up again at all, actually, which was a welcome thing in Riven’s opinion. They’d never found the boat Jalel had once spoken of, the one that was supposed to have been tethered to an outcropping of…
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Riven and the two demons had found a small cellar, long abandoned, with a pair of dead bolts that still worked well enough after they closed the door behind them. It’d likely been someone else’s lair a long, long time ago due to the way various odds and ends were strewn about and a worn-out bed was in the far corner—though it was all in a heavy state of disrepair and had a thin layer of dust. “Trash.” Athela threw one of the spare articles of clothing to the side, smacking Azmoth in the face…
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[Riven Thane’s Status Page: Riven slowly opened his eyes after the much-needed nap. The blue mana potion Athela had taken from Jalel’s bag was being gently poured over his lips to slide down his throat. His head was propped up against that same bag, and she was watching him wide-eyed like a child on Christmas while remaining completely silent. The headache quickly cleared as he accepted the rest of the potion, nodding to her in appreciation. “Thanks.” “Not a problem! Just glad you’re…
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The next moment was a blur as Riven came back to the land of the living. He gasped as a brief flash of a vision blipped across his thoughts, giving him a moment of pause as his soul acquired its third subpillar. A torrent of screaming souls, the image of a land bathed in hellfire, and the impression of eternal torment all burned into his insides in an excruciating moment of molten pain. Hot crimson lines were then etched into his sternum, right above the spider pentagram he’d gotten through Athela’s…
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Jalel raised an eyebrow from where he pretended to be dead, cocooned on the hellscape floor in some rather pathetic bindings while a lowly harpy ate his entrails. They had made it through the poorly executed “bad guy” with only slight amounts of smirking whenever the inexperienced warlock wasn’t looking. Even if Jalel did secretly hope for Riven’s demise and actually kind of was the bad guy, so to speak. He’d faked death pretty well, even if it’d been someone his own level witnessing it, but…
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Jalel’s jaw had dropped when he saw what she held. It only took him a second before his face twisted in a strange mix of desperation and greed, rage, and hate, and their newfound acquaintance pulled out his dagger. He dropped his bag without even thinking while simultaneously lunging forward toward Athela and pulled out some sort of white potion. Riven’s eyes narrowed, and it was as if time stopped as she stood unaware of the impending attack. “Athela, move!” In an instant, Riven had rammed his…
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Riven sneered down at the prompt. Not going to make it out alive? What a fucking joke. As if he wasn’t walking a knife’s edge already. He’d been forced into scenario after scenario with little say in the matter, and he was goddamned tired of it. Anger and disgust surged through him, and his soul resonated with his will. Fuck this phantom, fuck this hellscape, fuck Chalgathi, and fuck Elysium’s administrator. He’d do what he fucking wanted to do. A ripple ran out from where Riven stood in the…
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Riven’s demand made Jalel chuckle. The silver-haired man shrugged indifferently, waving a hand about the room with a loud snort. “What is there to say? I cannot remember the specifics.” It was a blatant lie. Riven didn’t know why this stranger would lie to them, but Jalel hadn’t even attempted to hide it. He just didn’t want to talk. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t? Perhaps not, but the feeling he was getting from the snobbish smirk on Jalel’s face made Riven consider him a liar. Riven…
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“Wrong!” Riven said cheerfully, trotting over and taking a seat a couple feet away with his legs crossed. “Worst-case scenario is you being dead. You got out, didn’t you?” Jalel looked up to Riven and then suspiciously to Athela, but gradually he shook his head no and tried to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes again. “No. I am still here, damned to this dungeon until I am able to buy my way out by finding something of value. There are still many questions that I have for you…such as why you…
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“Or maybe the demon knows we stole the miracle and won’t present itself to us.” The spider cocked her head as if deep in thought, then shook it vigorously. “No…no, that’s definitely not it. It would have arrived and killed you in the contract ceremony if it had any ill will against you.” “It can do that?” “Oh, yes, and frankly, I doubt I’d have been able to help you much against something this strong. It’s always a risk to take on summoned demons, and this particular breed is not…
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