Viridian Gate Online- Absolution Read online

  Table of Contents

  Summary

  Shadow Alley Press Mailing List

  Eldgard

  Melt Butter, Apply to Toast

  Adherent Learning

  Eldritch Lore

  Hollow Tip, Hollow Point, Hollow Heart

  Ass in Swamp

  Napping in Dirt

  In Darkest Darkness, or Something Like That

  Diving in Dungeon

  A Million Bones

  Undiscovered Infinity

  Finite Time, Finite Life

  Give, Take, Steal

  Gone in Darkness

  Shades All Color

  Play with Fire

  Spiders Always

  Now Sense Is Made

  Darkness Gather Darkness

  Dark Break

  Karma Still Angry at Vlad

  Blood for Blood

  Concentrate for Concentrate

  Once More with Feeling!

  Undead, Redead, Redemption

  Collection Agency Calling

  Did Not Expect Failure

  Evidence of Choice

  Create, Construct, Absolve

  Cleaning Spring

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  Viridian Gate Online: Expanded Universe

  Books by Shadow Alley Press

  litRPG on Facebook

  GameLit on Facebook

  Copyright

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Summary

  A Russian weapon engineer's work is never done. Not while the Imperial Legion marches.

  AFTER DYING, LOSING his soulmate twice, building elemental cannons, and knocking down more than metaphorical walls for the Crimson Alliance, Vlad is looking for a place to call his own: a crafting guild that will be able to produce the most overpowered loot the world of V.G.O. has ever seen.

  Gathering his personal guard, Vlad sets off across the monster-infested Storme Marshes to find the perfect power source, hidden away in the guts of a mysterious sunken ruin. Unfortunately, the mob from old Earth hasn't forgotten him, and Vlad isn't the only one with a thirst for forbidden inventions. He has less than a week to overcome enemies new and old, or his dream of a guild hall for all crafters will be lost forever.

  From James A. Hunter—author of Viridian Gate Online, Rogue Dungeon, War God's Mantle, and the Yancy Lazarus Series—and author N.H. Paxton, comes an epic new entry into the Expanded Universe of Viridian Gate Online that you won't want to put down!

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  Eldgard

  Melt Butter, Apply to Toast

  “CHEMICAL STRUCTURE is not adhering to robe materials.”

  I leaned over the robe sitting on my crafting bench, in the corner of the workshop. The world within me was at peace as I toiled over the improvements I needed to make. Well, at peace aside from the incredible anger that was building up inside my skull, perpetuating the infinitely aggressive migraine I had developed when I hit my head falling out of the sky when I first landed here in Viridian Gate Online.

  And now this stupid refractive film wasn’t adhering to the fiber matrix of my Robe of Azure Alchemy. Even in a video game, solutions eluded me. At least in the beginning.

  I studied the materials for another minute before tossing the remaining liquid from a beaker into the cistern next to my station. It was overflowing with dirtied, broken, and permanently stained glassware. I was single-handedly keeping the glassblowers in the Crimson Alliance in funds, I had no doubt.

  “Gods damn b’lyah.” I slammed a fist on the workbench, trying to wrench from my brain another secret of the chemical formula. I was sweating like a sunbather on a hot Russian afternoon in Chernobyl. I would need a place to work in the future where I wasn’t continuously exposed to the intense heat of the forges of the workshop.

  I had already taken my robe off to perform this enhancement, since I needed to experiment with potent alchemical decoctions, leaving my torso exposed. Had I kept the robe on, I might have died from heat exhaustion. Or dissolving myself in a failed experimental liquid while wearing the robe. Both had equal chances of occurring, and I didn’t like dying.

  I worked the material of the robe between my fingers, trying to find the right consistency. It was clearly linen, and I needed a coating that would leave the fabric flexible but also repel physical and magical attacks of all natures. My time in Rowanheath had shown me how easily I could be overwhelmed by physical damage. I couldn’t allow that again. To that end, I had devised a chemical coating that would stiffen upon kinetic impact as well as become reflective when it was exposed to an Aetheric current.

  The biggest flaw I’d come across was my inability to produce a Friend-Or-Foe determinant within the chemical reagent. It would reflect healing magic just as effectively as damaging magic. That, and the adherence issue. I had wasted six vials of the material already, with varying forms of chemical adherents. I had a single option left, and thankfully there was a surplus of the material.

  I reached over to the shelf where I kept my common-tier ingredients and grabbed an enormous Mason-style jar that was crammed full of compacted Spider’s Silk. The material was everywhere in the swamps, especially since we had allied with the Spider Queen. I’d had a few of the lower-level crafters gather a considerable amount over the last couple days, and our supply would likely never run dry.

  “Spider silk, adheres to all things.” I rolled my eyes as I imagined the fight I would have trying to clean my hands of the shit when I was finished taking it from the jar.

  “How will combine with chemical formulation, though?”

  “Vlad, sir?” There was a voice from somewhere near my right elbow. I hadn’t even noticed the short Svartalfar come over to my station.

  He was holding a small slate, with a piece of chalk rolling about on it precariously. The sounds of the entire workshop crashed down on me, and my concentration was shattered.

  “What!? What is problem? Is no other person in building capable of answering asinine questions?”

  I hated being interrupted during my work. There were dozens of other people this suka could have bothered, especially since the workshop was now bustling with bodies from sunup to sundown.

  It had attracted crafters of all disciplines, ranging from Blacksmiths all the way to the rare Enchanters we had acquired a small cabal of. The worst parts of it all, though, were the intensely heated forges; they burned continuously and made the workshop a sauna. I shook my head as I realized I had snapped and was more aggressive than I needed to be, because tears welled in the corners of the apprentice’s eyes. I closed my own eyes and breathed deeply. I needed to be nicer to the new recruits.

  “Apologies, Vlad does not like interruptions. What is needed?”

  His face immediately softened at my apology. I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefingers.

  “Sir, would you look over this calculation? We can’t seem to get it quite right, and we’ve spent the last couple hours working on it.”

  The slate he held contained an alchemic balance, but the formula was way off. There was entirely too much substrate with entirely too much toxicity and not enough reactant or buffer. It was a simple decoction used in the production of an antidote; we had a great need for this, given the terrible, venomous creatures surrounding Yunnam, and the production of it was critical.

  “Is first-grade Alchemy work. What is problem here? Balance chemical formula, use Erdrick’s Fourth Position for Aetherochemical Resonance!”

  I moved my fingers in a tight, shifting adjustment, plac
ing my index finger over middle, crooking my thumb at a right angle, then splaying out my ring and pinky fingers while holding my entire wrist at a ninety-degree angle to the floor. I felt a gentle warmth tingle to the ends of my fingers.

  Some of the more complex alchemical procedures required actual, physical magic—movement of the hands, speaking of specific words, real ritualistic components—in order to come to fruition. None of it seemed normal, since magic was more or less just myth on Earth. Part of it I had learned when I got my Alchemy subclass in Rowanheath. The other portion I had to learn like anyone else: reading, practice, and study.

  Since having the dream where I was told in no uncertain terms to create things, I had snagged every book about alchemical magic that was held in the Keep’s library and focused on them fiercely.

  Erdrick’s Pedagogical Permutations for Alchemical Periodicity was one of the basic texts on physical alchemical magic and an essential understanding was absolutely necessary. Though this particular formulation was simple, the enhancement from the alchemical incantation would vastly improve the outcome.

  The assistant, whose name did not immediately come to mind, stood there looking like a fool. His jaw hung slack like he had just witnessed the most amazing thing in his life. I maintained my cool demeanor, though magic and alchemy still excited me. There was simply nothing like this on Earth, and I was thrilled whenever I completed something that would normally have been impossible.

  “Is not complex. Formula needs more energy, less substrate, to balance out toxicity. Must have balance in all things, bychit.” I took the slate, which was nothing more than a glorified chalkboard, and lightly smacked it on the top of his head.

  He snapped out of his dazed stupor, then gratefully retrieved the slate from my hand. I reached across my workstation and produced an exceptionally heavy volume I had stored in a shielded section of workstation so I wouldn’t set it on fire. I had a tendency to unintentionally set things on fire. Experimentation was vital to progress.

  The text was my borrowed copy of Erdrick’s, Volume I. It was a hardy tome, weighing a solid two kilos. I had read it from start to finish twice, as well as memorized all of the hand positions necessary for alchemical control. There were twelve volumes in total.

  I dropped the book in his hand, on top of the slate, and he responded with a wild-eyed look.

  “Do not be afraid, is light reading. Memorize book, from beginning to end. Will improve Alchemy.” I gave him a smile, the best I could offer at the time, considering he had just interrupted me for a simple matter.

  He looked at me with a mixture of irritation and awe, then ran off in a random direction. I realized I was still holding his chalk stub, which I hurled at his back as he went. It struck the back of his left ear and elicited a yip from him. Maybe I should have taken up throwing weapons.

  I shook my head. I needed to get back to the problem at hand. Maybe I needed a new formulation to provide sufficient energy? I had already worked the problem over in my head a dozen times, finding one single answer: Drake’s Poppy, a flower that grew in unstable climates and produced a variety of colors when provided with external stimuli, especially magical.

  I had powdered the lot of my supply, which was a measly twelve heads, and was down to my last pouch of the powder. I popped my neck as I stood there, sweat rolling down my arms, the migraine pulsing in the back of my head. I needed to solve this and soon. I had other things to attend to.

  I clenched and unclenched my hands repeatedly, feeling how the day’s work had stiffened my finger joints. I looked down at the powder, which was currently brilliant red due to the high amount of Fire Aether in the room from the forges running constantly. I tapped an index finger against the tip of my nose as I worked the formula in my head again: sixteen grains Drake’s Poppy, ground; forty-four grains Tender’s Grass, ground; thirty-seven grains adherent, dissolute aqueous; shake vigorously.

  What could I dissolve the damn Spider’s Silk in? I had grain alcohol, but I didn’t want to destroy the other ingredients. In my first attempt, I had used Aqua Vitae, which had destroyed the initial, expensive components, rendering the entire potion inert. I needed something else. I needed an Alkahest, a perfect, complete alchemical solvent.

  I decided to forego the full potion formulation for experimentation. I filled a vial with plain water and carefully, almost gingerly, placed the Spider’s Silk into the vial. I swirled it for a bit, hoping beyond all hope that Spider’s Silk was at least partially polar.

  After a solid minute of swirling, the Spider’s Silk was still solid, but was now a gooey clump of blech, sitting solidly in the center of the vial. I tossed the whole thing into the cistern, the crunch of glass shattering lost to the sounds of the intense work going on around me. I grabbed another vial from my near-limitless supply on my workbench and slipped more Spider’s Silk into it.

  This time, I used a Hyperoxide I had created through the ionization of oxygen in water. It wasn’t too far from the medical hydrogen peroxide that was used on Earth, what felt like a lifetime ago.

  As soon as I introduced the Hyperoxide to the Spider’s Silk, it began to sizzle and pop, then smoke. With a sudden flash, the Spider’s Silk within combusted, then spattered the walls of the vial with goo.

  “Unexpected reaction,” I said to myself as I took a metal spatula, about two centimeters wide at the tip, and attempted to scrape the inside of the vial clean. The material that was created had essentially concreted itself to the glass and resisted my attempts to retrieve a sample. I would need to lock that formulation away for future use, perhaps a sticky grenade of some kind.

  “Why not Mylar paste?” I smiled slightly. A Mylar paste, an aluminum-ferric oxide confluence.

  It was genius. And I could use the Hyperoxide I had created to decoct the formulation!

  I got to work immediately, using a mortar and pestle to powder some aluminum scrapings I had lying about, then used a hammer to powder some brittle iron. I mixed them in a one-to-one titration, then placed the entire thirty-seven grains into the bottom of the vial. I used five milliliters of Hyperoxide to initialize the confluence, then used an additional thirty milliliters.

  I added the combined grains of the active chemical ingredient, or ACI, to the fluid and watched it turn a glorious neon red. The fluid flowed but was still slightly gelatinous as I stirred it carefully, watching it slug itself around the inside of the vial.

  “Is last hope for humanity,” I said, not being serious. I chuckled at my own joke as I poured the chemical deliberately over the face of the robe, watching it coat the entire thing. I didn’t know what to expect, honestly. The previous five failed decoctions had sloughed right off the robe and onto the workbench proper, then found their way to the floor.

  This time, however, the robe itself gleamed with the crimson gel, then glimmered for a moment before changing. The colors had gone from drab brown and blue to a deep violet one might expect to see in a true mage’s robes. I looked at the stats of the piece, pleased with my own work, which had finally succeeded.

  <<<>>>

  Impervious Robe of the Royal Alchemist (Augmented)

  Armor Type: Light; Augmented Cloth

  Class: Epic

  Base Defense: 55

  Primary Effects:

  +10 to Intelligence

  +10 to Spirit

  25% Resistance to all elemental and arcane-based damage

  50% Resistance to explosive damage

  30% Increase in Alchemy recipe potency

  40% Decrease in Alchemy recipe toxicity

  You can take the Alchemist out of the Royal Lab, but you can’t take the Royal Lab out of the Alchemist.

  <<<>>>

  I relished the opportunity to try the new robe out—I wasn’t excited about the pain of combat, so I hoped the new features worked as intended. I set the robe aside, not wanting to put it on right now due to the heat of the workshop. I began my other project in earnest. It was going to require alchemic glass, which I had prepare
d in advance at great pain.

  I shimmied open a drawer in my workstation and pulled out a hinged glass sphere with steel bracketing. I had made two dozen of them yesterday, anticipating using them in a new, slightly crazy project this morning, but underestimated the time it would take to make the refractive coating adherent.

  “Explosive, made of glass, filled with magic. Exciting moment in time!” I held up the sphere, staring through the glass at the light. It was mediocre work at best: the glass was cloudy and some of the facets of the framework were rough edged. I would need to improve the manufacturing for a better result at a later date.

  The truth of the matter was that higher quality components made a higher quality end result. I expected these products to be an experiment, but if the final product was of sufficient quality, I would be mass producing them for the Crimson Alliance. Honestly, who couldn’t use an Alchemic Grenade, filled with a small flaming tornado or a toxic, smoking fume? The opportunities were absolutely limitless.

  I pulled a few additional necessary crafting components from various places around my workstation. I needed my trusty mortar and pestle, as well as an alembic, a calcinator, and a distillation apparatus. In order to make this work to the best of my capability, I would need to know what spell I wanted to mimic first. I had seen the devastating power of the Firebrand’s spells first-hand at the Siege of Rowanheath and thought that a good place to start.

  I began by gathering the ingredients I would need to make a simple Nitre, a combustible used centuries ago on Earth by the first alchemists. It consisted of equal parts of three different combustible metals, none of which were immediately available in Eldgard, so I had to use commonly available metals instead.. Those were to be ground into a fine powder and mixed with a dilution of a rare stone found while mining.

  I made each of the required powders in turn, making sure to cover my face with a wet scarf first, so as not to inhale the highly toxic ingredients. The powders needed to be extremely fine in order to coalesce properly, and to adhere to the herbs and magics I was about to imbue them with. I needed about forty-five grains total in order to achieve my goal of a single explosive sphere, which measured to be ten grains of each powder and fifteen grains of Nadrium, the rare mineral stone.