The comfort of shedding carried him with such familiarity, he barely questioned why he and his brother were watching football at his house. Rachel’s cinnamon rolls blessed the home’s aroma with a foretaste of the sweets in the oven. The nostalgia gripped Tim so close he feared he’d cry.
How long had it been since he’d had her love-giving presence and hospitality to make him feel at home?
Chris wore Tim’s hand-me-down, retro black 311 shirt with the red oval brand across his chest, some torn bottom jeans, and a cheeky grin while lounging on the couch. He had his feet out and a glass of Guiness, cream coated in a thin froth begging to be broken by parted lips.
Beside him, resting in the crook between couch and a Browns orange and brown dog pillow, sat Dryfu. He angled his right claw like a gun and shot Tim. “Hey there. Took a minute for your head to wrap around the Wisdom increase. If you’re up to it, I’m gonna lay out the attributes of choosing the Exorcist specialization. I’ll put it on the TV so you can read along.”
“Am I?” Tim took in the lace white curtains tucked behind the box TV. An old brown entertainment center stored a VHS player, a PlayStation 1, Yoga videos and Final Fantasy games. His eyes squinted and he glanced back at Dryfu, unable to recall how he got here or why.
Dryfu’s tentacles atop his head crossed and dipped forward in a tone matching the pointed claw at the TV.
Chris chuckled between sips. “Your familiar is spicy.”
Dryfu snorted. “I’m not here to entertain you. Be glad Tim has somehow brought you… here.” He trailed his sentence as his attention centered on Tim. A fresh point anointed the television and its blue blank screen.
A paragraph appeared in a font fitting for a Castlevania with Woody Harrelson remake. And Bill Murray. Kramer too, if he’s around. Anyway, the font was cool, reminding him of those days when he and Chris could spend a season entering the world of a new video game. As Tim read, he heard Dryfu’s voice take on a friendly tour guide persona.
Exorcists…In General: Your Oil and Water path is working on this Exorcist evolution to compliment your other classes mix of close combat and ranged skills. Your Priest skills take a hit on the potential for healing, but in return, you gain attack power against void aura classes. Exorcists save their limelight for when it counts, and their empathy for those around them creates a class well balanced to your development across defense and attacks.
Exorcist class - Rare traits
- Specializes against void aura and void magic, mostly in attack, but some in defense as well. The mission of the Exorcist class is to rid its surroundings of Venomous spirits.
- Not the top choice for every war, but when you need em, you need em.
- Excels in aura manipulation while having secondary benefits in crafting and melding aura enchantments. Weaknesses include poor public figurehead qualities, with the stains of war come a warrior more comfortable in shadows, silence and solitude. Worse yet is the likelihood of being overwhelmed by the deceptive tide of the Dark Army, only to feed and fuel them to greater violence.
- The Exorcist who falls does so to the rising tide of all his enemies.
Exorcist’s Flex
- Anti-venom against poisoning of any form (including dimensional gas poisoning, wraith burn, and resistance to addictions created by void aura (Venom) and magically enhanced items).
- Spells no longer cost twice as much in Venom concentrated spaces, but your tier still registers as a potential weakness to spells and endurance.
- Hunting skills, including Spirit Raising gains +10 breakthrough power against aura defenses, enhancing the ability to raise Takekuma or exorcise wraiths from this plane.
- Tracking is 25% easier for Venom creatures' marks, scents and behaviors, including ricken.
- Your alchemical concoctions will gain 25% greater effectiveness against void creatures and status ailments.
- Poison Resistance, Torture Endurance and Fleeing gain two levels of strength against void spells and dodging attacks, including potential tier increase bonuses based on current level.
- Skill: Trap evolves to skill Aura Trap - craft traps to trigger by aura creatures or items.
- Exorcist blend to Ranger traps adds 25% greater efficiency to trapping spirits and aura released by captives.
- New Skill: White Fire - causes temporary blindness if cast on void creature.
- Efficiency increases by 25% against void creatures.
- Skills: Aura Blades/Small Blades gain +5 to attack on Venom based creatures and items.
- Gotr blade transport gains an additional slot to carry wraith souls, as well as
- Prison or Paradise feature, which restores or contains the soul based on ally or foe.
- New Skill! - Wise Man's Tears - Bearing the burden of trapped souls enhances empathy and understanding.
- Spirit Memories are 25% easier to swim through, see and store the strongest memories into your long-term memory.
- Danger: risk to possession by stronger spirits. Use strict discernment in the memories and spirit aura you store. There are few fates worse than a captured exorcist in the hands of a void user. The greater the foe, the longer they'll take to not milk you dry. So close you'll beg. Don't be that guy. Be careful the dens you uncover don't become your last.
- New skill! - Skinning evolves new skill Spirit Skins - Ouch. But worth it for us!
- Warning: Only try on your worst enemies. If you can steal their skin for a cloak, hopefully the risk to reward will pay out!
- Oil and Water Mage perks:
- Dual wielding between items or spells by at least two classes increases efficiency and chance for critical hit by 50%
- If you go Full Aura, your friendlies will follow if they are within your immediate vicinity. If you regain your physical form, they will also.
- Self Defense skills gain 25% effectiveness in battles with Venom, items or in defense against void territory, such as a castle or vessel harboring void creatures and/or Venom.
- This also impacts defense against traps sprung through void/venom power.
- Self Defense Skill gains:
- Danger Sense gains 25% expanded territory and time of effectiveness.
- Keeper's cast gains 25% greater strength against void attacks.
- Healing efficiency is doubled if effected were under Keeper spell at time of wound and you cast the Healing spell.
- Party Oversight gains 25% greater distance to your "local" party and notifications of status effects changed by interaction with Venom.
- Familiars gain Exorcist additions to their skills and the ones they are given from your catalogue.
- Their spell slots gain an additional option for an Exorcist specific skill or spell.
- They can equip their current armor as a grandfather clause, but once unequipped additional armor and weapons may require Exorcist-centric fine tuning to ensure effective performance.
- Dryfu - boosted attack against void/venom creatures, gains insight into Exorcist strengths and weaknesses so Tim can grow and him guide that.
- Tonda - Hunting in the Void increases Cunning and leap distance by 25%.
- Indi - Exorcist's Whip gains 25% length, holding power and attack. Crack that whip!
- Prisons cast by Venom are 25% less effective.
- Murphy - gains 25% regen production in void territory and when in battles with Venom.
- Their spell slots gain an additional option for an Exorcist specific skill or spell.
- Wraith Army - gains beacon addition to messenger spells, including the birds sent by Khempal or to plant beacons visible only to ally wraith with messages 25% more effective than the caster's skill allows.
- Wraith Whistle evolution from Chipmunk skull into Exorcist's Crown. Expands reach by 25% to wraith or anyone in "local" party with potential for live communication.
“Wow.” Chris raised his stout ale in salute. “To my brother, whisper gifted to lead a wraith army using his big fat brain. That crown is impressive. Though it reminds me a bit too much of your middle school goth days. Are you the Goblin King, now?”
Tim carefully perused fingertips along the bone smooth crown residing outside and inside his flesh. Oil and Water for the nightmare points. At a thought, confirmation relayed he could unequip the Exorcist’s Crown anytime. He sighed with relief.
A micro emblem appeared in his HUD, mirroring the twisted vine with downward sloping back. Tim’s fingers trailed the mottled, porous rock surface to the tips implanted in his head.
“I’m not sayin I told you so, but this has been a pretty good deal for you, no?”
Tim scratched where it sewed itself in a mix of aura and flesh.
He was supposed to be sleeping at the inn.
Bernie Kosar in the classic Browns whites and 80’s Big Bertha shoulder pads graced the TV. A full crowd of Dawg Pound faithful cheered belligerently. Champions that they were.
Snow cluttered the field and so much of the players they seemed to collect it mid dive.
Webster Slaughter, to recall a name from ancient past, extended in a full body catch toward the brown end zone grass. The cool blue Oilers defender slammed him from the side. Sucks get wrecked. Caught in a torrent, Webster kept the baby in the cradle. Landing on his back and smearing fresh snow over the marker line. Whistles blew. The ref tucked in the sign. Touchdown.
“That’s right!” Chris cheered.
He was never the sports guy of their brotherly tandem. Chris’s heart only aimed to please, so when acne turned public humiliation into a source of dread, he went instead to MMORPG’s like StarCraft, nope, WarStorm. Nope.
“It’s EverQuest,” Chris said, and pushed reading glasses back up his nose.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“You kind of bugged me at the time,” Tim said, “with raid times keeping us from going out. I think I was jealous and being angry about the divorce reared its head in seeing one more family member separate.”
“I’m sorry, bro. I was hurting, too. I never meant—”
“It’s fine; I’m not trying to say anything bad. I was just getting to how you preferred EverQuest over sports, because you just wanted to help people. You didn’t want to wrestle anyone. You had enough pain. Joining a guild, managing raids, and taking the less attractive healer role fit right in with your beautiful soul.”
“Is this what you dream about?” Chris hid his smile on the last gulp of his Guinness. He finished that glass like a champ, swinging his legs off the couch and gripping the cylinder like a scepter before the court.
Wasn’t Dryfu on the couch? Where was he?
Why had this dream transported him to the house they shared post high school. On…he couldn’t remember the road. It was where Sparky died. Adding a name to that home would only increase its haunting power.
Haunting…
The word whispered poison gas tickling his earlobes, daring him to unravel who’d joined them in that word.
Chris released a long rolling growl as he staggered to the kitchen. His Sunday loungewear became leather hides of another nation and time. Dark blood ran down the back of his limping leg, yet he strolled for the fridge as though without a care on his mind. A prisoner broken by time and exhaustion.
“Are you gonna ask?” Chris said, opening the fridge. Bottles jingled along the plastic shelving. He took a Guinness from the top, using only threads of jungle green vine stretching out from his knuckles.
His eyes emanated a slight glow, waiting for Tim to read the intense thoughts within.
What was he supposed to ask Chris? Why was he here? Was it tied to the Haunting. What haunting? He felt like he should know.
“Fair enough,” Chris’s vine snapped a cap. White exhaust spilled from the opened bottleneck. He smiled and lifted the top toward his mouth. “I’ll nibble on that, but it’ll cost you a drink.”
After his sample, he extended the bottle and leaned against the manilla countertop.
“I’d guess you gained some wisdom and the first thing you realized was I had all the answers.”
“Funny.”
When did Chris gain vines like knuckle hair?
“But true!” Chris challenged, hoisting his new bottle and popping the top with his vine. He was showing off now, folding his hands and letting the vine prepare and deliver his drink.
“Seriously though, you carried some of the enclave with you on your way by.” Chris shrugged and took a swig, deciding to leave his glass for another time and slid it to a slow spinning stop. He looked over as though catching the answer in its performance. As though the sound of glass sliding over linoleum, or whatever people make counters of, the point, the attachment to the jewel extended by this vision, was waiting in Chris’s gaze.
Tim had to read it without another clue, or it would swallow into the belly of forever.
What was Chris talking about? He had all the answers. What was the question he needed to unlock them? “Your fear.”
Chris twisted away, eyes scorned with hurt and betrayal. He shook the thought. Unwilling.
He scratched fingers across an eyebrow. “I guess if this is the price.” He looked Tim full in the eye. “I’m scared his spell is fading. He didn’t plan for this and you fighting back that way… whether he would let us die with the spell or not may not be up to him. I’ve been meditating with the troll camp; it’s taken you long enough. Ok, so the thing is, my fear, as you seem to have trapped this idea of mine into a single word as though it were that easy.
“The thing is, I’m stupid, Tim.” He shrugged. Innocence and so much of what he loved about Chris shed off in that gesture. He was what he was and any love his way sounded good to him.
“I’ve met worse.”
“Yeah, well you might not love everything I’m about to say; it all started with a girl.”
Tim grinned sheepishly.
“Not like that. A young girl. Her tribe was being hunted by militia in Sudan while I was visiting on business.”
Tim saw her face, chubby cheeks filthy by dirt and scabs, eyes dark and pleading.
“Hist’s dimensional rift already has its tentacles in Earth,” Chris said.
The vision shifted to campfire’s glow on an umbrella thorn acacia in the African desert. Billowing smoke rose through the thick canopy against a starry sky. A full moon’s light illumined a vast horizon, clouds on currents like roads across the sky, close enough to reach for their tail. The same girl lay on a cot with terrible sores spread across exposed skin. Its rash multiplied like fish eggs, bubbling out in ooze and further infection. Sweat beaded in the islands of flesh scattered across the infection.
Beside her, a woman painted in white and sheathed in a grass flicked white powder into the air. Puffs rained and clotted as they absorbed into the girl’s graveyard of a body.
“She’s been poisoned,” Chris narrated. “I don’t know if the evil in the genocide there weakened our barrier so Hist could reach us, or if his influence touched the area into chaos. Either way, I found myself in the middle of it, and…” the vision parted, returning Tim to face his brother, beholding an honest struggle not to weep. Red veins crossed wet eyes.
Tim gripped his brother at the shoulders. “We’re in the middle of this. Or at least we will be once you tell me the truth.”
Fear Breaker held Chris against invisible squirming, instead wringing out his secrets. “Earth is on the brink.” He shrugged and shook away evil thoughts. “Hist’s tentacles are already there,” he said, looking Tim in the eye. “She’ll turn if I don’t bring back a cure. Then… it won’t be long before Iowans are searching for a place to hide.” Chris took a healthy drink from the bottle, eyeing Tim as though to ask if he were willing to fight for his home, too. He finished. Belched. “You know I’d fight. I–”
“That’s why I agreed.” Chris shouted it loud enough to echo off sore eardrums. A vein bulged like a delta across his flexed throat. Chris wiped his mouth with a vine’s flicked leaf across his lips.
“What’re you afraid of? What’s missing?” Tim asked. “Freedom for Africa, FFA, is the Sudanese militia who attacked...”
A thread tugged free, tearing the fabric keeping him here. Chris’s features slowly faded. “We don’t have time.”
“I met a Troll with the FFA emblem on his lapel.” A memory of the meeting revealed the luscious green canopy and FFA etched in gold Arabic, Tim understood by Chris’s interpretation of the script. The border was different than the patch Tim saw in the jungle tunnel, but the rainbow rise and fall of the tree’s green perimeter matched. In full, the patch had a drawing of a jungle growing from the river, with a desert to the north losing ground to the dominance of foliage.
“I saw that,” Tim said. “Where Gantus is. A dead troll with that on his sleeve.”
Chris looked intrigued but continued to fade. “They’re watching. Trolls and artisans alike with deals for when Hist breaks our Gateway. It’ll be much harder to bring tourists to our magical world if they have to immigrate to the country who wins the Hunt. They see that as an archaic system meant to be destroyed and reborn through oil and minerals already transformed by dimensional gas. I didn’t know so much about that then, though it was clear another civil war was starting over new resources discovered in the South. I accepted a job to retrieve a package; ended up caught in Hist’s trap.”
“Hist is tied to your dealer, Jao?” Tim asked.
Chris’s gaze locked on Tim. Guilt. The fear was worse than Tim thought. Something Chris didn’t think Tim could forgive.
“Say it. If you can’t admit it now, you might not get another chance. We mig—”
“He wants you,” Chris admitted. “I… they wouldn’t let me come without you.”
The vision of Chris’s memory in that car ride through the African jungle rocked and swayed out of focus so he couldn’t see the man in the soldier’s uniform sitting in the jeep’s back with Chris. Tim was losing it. “Why?”
“I was hoping to find out why before I told you.” Chris’s hand rested on Tim’s. Fear passed through like a wisp of self-guided vapor, traveling on a course for Tim’s chest. A cramp fitted with a rusty screwdriver cut a groove in Tim’s gut.
Cleanse, he thought. Cat Fever. A miasma of good and evil wrestled like the devil inside him. He both felt and watched himself from the outside, capturing the full force and the bird’s eye view of him slouching onto the tile floor. Brown and beige with flecks of other, bore-me-with-your-slow, miserable-death colors.
Chris pulled back as soon as Tim grunted in pain. “I didn’t realize…
Tim looked him in the eye, now fully viewing his brother. Anger whispered promises of relief if he would turn it on and torch his brother in righteous fire.
Chris’s hands shifted to placation and sought-mercy. “I had to help her. Before I knew it, they had their hooks in me. I didn’t know how bad at first. I thought I could get out before you were even involved. If I tried to do something then, they would have tortured me or something like kill anyone or everyone either of us care about. When Jao said you had to come, I thought we could do this together. And it would free you from that miserable cesspool of security and four walls of grief built by your anger.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“Now you have powers. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to face this by myself.”
Chris was never more his younger brother—Tim never more realizing the beauty and blessing in that relationship—than in the pleading to tears eyes reflecting back on Tim like pearls offered by a princess. Have mercy, his gaze said. His face screwed tight in the sour taste of words nearly formed. “I couldn’t face this without you,” he choked out. “I love you so much, I wouldn’t have risked letting you down if I saw any other way.”
He hung his head.
Tim made it to his feet, but something in the dream buffeted him from reaching his brother to console him.
In Tim’s silence, and maybe a bit of that love reflected back, Chris’s tone gained fervor and pitch. “I hoped we could beat Hist and send her the cure from wherever our victory takes us. Someone has to stop the rift from spreading. Hist has swallowed thousands of planets. I’m sorry. I got you into my mess and I don’t think I can get you out, if I’m being honest.” Chris looked aside in thought. “Part of me wishes I could take it back and find another way before I left Sudan, but where we are, we’re here for a reason. My fear is more that you’d disown me and I survive than if we perish fighting as one.” He extended his hand. Specks of purple black cinders appeared in the air, floating in from the shadows. Chris’s vines snapped out and struck them into pulses of light and they vanished. Too many emerged for his pathetic defense to manage.
Tim tried Cleanse and broke through to grip his brother’s handshake.
Palm clasped palm.
Cracks splintered the walls. Gunshots ruptured patches of surface into flying debris widespread and sharp enough to force Tim into defense. His spells were locked.
The orb of Gantus resurfaced between him and Chris, slashing a claw.
Tim dodged the blow but lost his brother in the demon’s spin. The black swept blur flew into the hallway and out of sight.
“Thank you!” Gantus called out in a sing song voice Tim wished he could use to strangle the damned demon.
Tim started after them, but a collapsing tsunami shoved him backwards.
“I saw you pass through the Troll’s Enclave and knew you’d come back for him,” Gantus said.
Tim twisted underwater, kicking and clawing against a current quickly wearing him down.
“You’ve made a mess of my prison break,” Gantus said from somewhere within the thick water, as though buoyed by magic in sufficient strength to deliver the message. “You haven’t escaped. If you don’t free me, he’ll be trapped here forever.”
Lungs burning, Tim woke in a gasp. Sweat chilled his goose flesh and dripped onto his cheek from hair drenched from the long fight. His sudden woken fit sprung cramps as sharp as swords through his legs.
“Are you okay?” Master Commander Oke spoke from his bedside, somehow already there and posture ready for fleeing or fighting if Tim asked.
Tim’s internal pain points bit so deep they could have paid for postage. He inhaled and focused the Cleanse to push the pain back through whence it came. “FFA have Gantus,” Tim managed through spikes into his gut. At least the fivel seemed to comprehend FFA and the importance of this revelation. The pain kicked well into high-nine range, and he feared he’d pass out and forget what he learned. “Find their prison, and we find my brother.”