Aric held his breath, eyes locked on the shimmering screen. The object listed there looked like a simple gold coin, yet it pulsed with a dull, ethereal glow. Its name flickered in golden text, divine essence so potent, it seemed to warp the very system itself. He pressed the icon, and the golden coin materialized in his hand with a flash of shimmering light, its weight surprising for its size.
It was pristine, untouched by time or decay, with intricate designs etched into its surface. One side of the coin depicted the serpent in its primal, living form: coiled, regal, and crowned with tendrils of shadow. The other side, however, bore the image of its undead manifestation: skeletal, twisted, jaws agape as if in eternal agony. Even in his hand, it felt warm, vibrating with the residue of divine life.
[Item: Immortal Lucre (Níðhöggr)]
He sought to devour... but was devoured instead.
Aric's eyes flickered to the Benefactor, who lounged atop her gothic chaise, fingers drumming idly along its velvet armrest. "An Immortal Lucre? It... looks like a coin?" he said.
"How astute." Her smile was wicked, crimson eyes narrowing with delight. "Yes, it's the eternal physical fragment left behind when an immortal is killed..." With a wave of her hand, the Chaise lifted up, and began to float over to him. "Every immortal, when devoured, leaves behind a fragment of their essence, a keepsake, if you will. A reminder that immortals are never entirely erased." She sat up straighter, brushing a lock of pale platinum hair back under her cowl. "The stronger the immortal, the rarer and more powerful the Lucre." Her eyes glinted with something darker.
"So..." Aric studied the coin carefully. "What can I buy with it?" he asked flatly.
"Hah!" The Benefactor laughed aloud, caught completely off-guard "You don't buy things with immortal Lucre, you manifest them." She said restoring her composure.
Ok, fine." Aric said rolling his eyes. "Enough semantics, what can I 'manifest.'" he said gesturing sarcastically with his hands.
She tilted her head, a curious look replacing her grin. "Hmm, I suppose that depends on the Immortal. Each Lucre is unique. Its power reflects the essence of the creature it came from. If you want to find out..." She gestured grandly, like a hostess unveiling a grand prize. "Invoke it."
He raised an eyebrow. "Invoke it? Just like that?"
She shrugged, spreading her hands wide. "Just like that." She said, leaning back on her chair, hands folding behind her head, a wicked glint in her eye. "Unless you're scared of a little... surprise."
Aric chuckled at her jest, "I already killed the damn thing." he started, pausing as the realization set in, "...Twice." He added "I'm damn sure I can handle whatever surprises are left." he smirked, accepting her challenge.
"Invoke," he commanded.
The coin pulsed, then shot out of his hand, up into the air as if he had flipped it. AS it rose, the coin spun faster and faster, until finally, as if reaching a point of critical mass, it shattered into motes of golden sparks. The sparks reshaped themselves midair, until finally, a single object, glowing as if fresh off the forge, settled, hovering in the air before him.
"Its... a dagger" Aric said slowly, as the glowing weapon cooled, revealing a long blacksteel blade. The dagger grip spiraled like the tightly coiled body of a serpent, and led to a crossguard resembling a serpents open mouth, fangs bared. The blade extending from the serpents mouth looked almost identical to Níðhöggr's tendril tongues and shadowy drops of black ichor traced along its edge, dripping like venom, yet vanishing before they touched the ground.
Aric reached out, fingers brushing the cold, smooth surface of the blade, causing the tendrils to dissipate like smoke. It felt... alive. His hand closed around the hilt, and the handle coiled tighter, as if accepting him as it's wielder and readying to strike. A screen flickered before him:
[Congratulations, Immortal Lucre Redeemed!]
[Weapon Acquired: Níðhöggr's Fang]
Item Class:SType:Immortal Arm - StilettoWeight:PerfectDurability:101/100Attack: 300 (100 True DMG)Traits: Applies Black Ichor Poison on contact. [OCCULT SCORE OF 50 REQUIRED TO SEE OTHER TRAITS]
The Benefactor applauded, her smile both proud and intrigued. "I must say, It suits you, my little flame." A smile cracked on Aric's face as he eyed the macabre dagger. His benefactor watched, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I've never seen you so enraptured..." She paused for a moment, before playfully pouting her lips, hands on her hips "Should I be jealous?"
"What can I say..." Aric turned the blade over in his hand. It was perfectly balanced and hummed with dormant power. "It's not every day a weapon as fine as this just falls into your hands..." he admitted.
The Benefactor chuckled. "Oh hush..." she purred, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "There will be many more where that came from soon enough."
"I suppose your right." Aric said turning his smile to her. "But at the moment, I'm eager to test this one out."
His benefactor giggled at his brutish sentiment, "Well, you may be testing it sooner than you thought." She said, nodding her head towards a cascade of fog that had rolled in behind Aric's back.
Aric's eyes flicked up, posture straightening as he spun, thrusting the wicked black blade forward and instinctively entering a defensive posture. However, rather than a ghost or immortal fiend, he watched a group of ragged figures standing in the mire, half-shrouded by fog and flickering will-o'-wisps. Their weapons were drawn, rusted swords, jagged blades, and maces stained with dried blood, but their hands trembled. Among them, Aric spotted the child from before, peeking out from behind the legs of a tall man whose eyes gleamed with suspicion and fear.
But it wasn't them that held Aric's attention. Something else lurked within the fog, unseen, uncanny, and yet, unmistakably real. Though his eyes couldn't trace its form, he felt its presence... a ripple in the mist, the gleam of blessed armor catching the faintest light, and the sharp, unmistakable scent of anointed holy incense. The air crackled with consecrated energy, suffocating and absolute. There was no mistaking it, somewhere in the haze, hidden and waiting, a Paladin of the Tribunal stalked him.
Aric's grip tightened around the Fang of Níðhöggr as a screen popped up before his eyes:
[New Quest: Escape the Maw of Níðhöggr]
The Benefactor's smile only grew. "Well then," she cooed. "You did say you wanted to test out your new toy..."
Aric cracked his neck, eyes locked on the slowly approaching group as she spoke again.
"Didn't you?"