His searching had resulted in failure. He’d escaped the swarm but had then been chased again three tis after that. The calm he’d initially experienced when first presenting here in the hellscape dungeon was now replaced with fight-or-flight situations every couple hours. First he’d run into a pack of red-skinned, fire-flinging imps; he’d he managed to kill three before getting out of dodge—and he picked up a level while doing it. Then he took a dive in the river of blood to get away from a pack of hell bears, which were essentially flaming grizzlies twice Riven’s size. Then he ended up running into patches of other patrolling undead similar to the ghoul he’d killed, although they were all scrawnier and less misshapen than the one he’d encountered in the ballroom. He’d picked up yet another level there as well, after having plastered the floors and walls with ghoul guts nurous tis over. If soone were to have asked him, he’d say he was getting pretty good at killing things by now. He’d stuck most of his stat points into Intelligence, so into Willpower, and a few points into Sturdiness to keep himself alive, so he was feeling pretty good about himself.
[Riven Thane’s Status Page:
• Level 7
• Pillar Orientations: Unholy Foundation, Blood
• Core of Original Sin—Gluttony: (Under Construction) (???)
• Traits: Race: Human, Class: Novice Warlock, Adrenaline Junkie (Blood) ( 15% to Agility)
• Abilities: Blessing of the Crow (Unholy), Wretched Snare (Unholy), Bloody Razors (Blood), Blood Lance (Blood) (Tier 2)
• Stats: 8 Strength, 13 Sturdiness, 57 Intelligence, 10 Agility, 1 Luck, -4 Charisma, 3 Perception, 33 Willpower, 9 Faith
• Minions: Athela, Level 5 Blood Weaver [14 Willpower Requirent]
with green ichor leaking out of fresh wounds. She was battered and bruised, shaking and curled up in the corner in an obvious state of pain and fear. There was also a long gash across her thorax…but she was definitely alive.
Riven’s heart lted at seeing Athela like that, wanting to scream out and tell her he was here to help, and he had to quickly suppress the urge to sprint out there toward her.
He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and thought hard about how he was going to approach this. All of them were utterly terrified, and the blonde woman was outright sobbing as she shook and wrapped her arms around her shoulders while in a cage of her own—secluded from the other prisoners.
“Please! My father will pay you if you let go! He’ll send you more sacrifices! I promise!” She was desperately pleading with the robed creatures, who simply ignored her and continued to speak in hushed tones as the larger ate nearby. “PLEASE! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”
[Lurker Demon, Level 45]
[Jabob Demon Cultist, Level 14]
[Jabob Demon, Level 9]
[Jabob Demon, Level 11]
[Human Hunter, Level 2]
[Human Priestess, Level 4]
[Athela, Blood Weaver Demon, Level 5]
Demon cultists? Really?! Why were there so many goddamned cultists in this new multiverse?!
Riven gritted his teeth, nerves climbing high as his eyes latched onto his minion again. She’d obviously gotten into a few scuffles since their ti apart and had plainly failed to escape this lot. He tried to think of what to do, but all he could think of in that mont—in that scrambled state of mind—was to harshly whisper to himself:
“You’ve gotta be fist fucking !”
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