Adam Drake - Blackout

It also symbolized my defeat of Amara, which made it all the more special.

Reaching forward, I grasped the banner’s wooden handle and lifted. It came free easily.

Quest Update: Y’Godda Be Kidding Me.

You have found the Lost War Banner of Y’Godda after many trials. Return it to the quest giver for your final quest reward.

“Nice,” I said. Suddenly, the surrounding chamber changed, and I found myself standing in a clearing.

I was outside the cavern, its huge stone door now shut and sealed with a magical barrier again, ready for the next adventurer to come.

“Well, goodbye to you, too,” I said with a shrug. Y’Godda must not have believed in adventurers lingering in his dank cavern for longer than necessary.

I summoned Smoke and jumped into his saddle. With the banner over one shoulder, we rode through the Forest of Dreams. There was one final destination to be reached.

After crossing through several travel-gates, I stepped into a blighted realm, full of black mountains and dead forests.

I followed a crooked path along the shores of a blood red lake which waters were still as glass. The path ended at the front gate of a ruined castle, its walls decimated and crumbling.

As I dismounted a chat request appeared at the lower part of my view-screen.

I looked at the caller’s name in shock.

It was Amara.

I blinked in confusion. What could she possibly want to ‘chat’ with me about? How much she hated me? Or how much I didn’t deserve to win?

The image of her angry, screaming face filled my mind’s eye.

Any communication with her would be packed with filtered words. I decided to not give her the pleasure of swearing at me ever again.

Instead of accepting the chat, I dismissed it. Then I went into my chat settings and placed Amara Frostwalker on my Blocked Players list. Now she’d no longer have the ability to communicate with me in any way.

There, I thought. Defeated again.

With a laugh, I entered the ruined castle.

There, sitting upon an ancient throne, was a dark figure. My quest giver. Above his head was a name tile. Togish the Sullied.

“You have returned,” said Togish as he watched me approach. “I am… surprised.”

I stood before Togish and bowed my head slightly. “I did not want to disappoint you, oh great one.”

Hey, I might not be the best role-player in the game, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

Togish nodded. He was clad in burnt armor which had been melted to his blackened skin. According to lore Togish died in this very castle by dragon fire. Dragons sent by Y’Godda.

“I see you have the banner.”

“Yes, great one.”

He held out a blackened hand, with burnt flesh hanging from its fingers.

I presented the banner to Togish and the undead king snatched it from my hands.

Quest Completed: Y’Godda Be Kidding Me

You have returned the Lost Banner of Y’Godda to Togish the Sullied. Please take your quest reward.

Togish grinned at the banner, his melted lips making the expression ghoulish. “Very good, adventurer. It has been a long time coming. With this, I am now one step closer to conquering the Realm of the Dead.”

Uh-huh, I thought. Good luck with that, buddy. Just gimme my dang reward!

I kept my mouth shut and my head bowed.

Togish placed the banner onto a skeletal altar almost identical to the ones from the Battle Field. A bony hand grabbed the wooden handle.

Immediately, the banner’s brightness faded and dulled to nothing. The magical wind that kept its banner flowing stopped as if whatever essence had been inside it died.

“And now for your reward,” Togish said, drawing my attention away from the sad-looking banner.

He held out a burnt hand which gripped a quest scroll.

Bowing my head again in a gesture of thanks, I carefully took the scroll into my possession.

Togish looked down at me. I tried not to stare at the hole in the middle of his face where his nose used to be. “You will find this particular quest… difficult. I know of no one who have survived its trials.”

Neither had I, which made me all the more excited to finally have the chance to take a crack at it.

“I will endeavor to do my best, great one.”

“If you do obtain its reward, see me again. We may have further business to do together.”

I bowed one last time and backed away. Looking up I saw that Togish had turned from me, forgotten. He stared at the limp banner, nodding with satisfaction.

Hastily, I left the destroyed castle and got back on Smoke. Turning him to the path we made our way back to the travel gate.

I was happy beyond words. In my hands I had the quest. Not any old quest, but the quest. Its final reward was the single most sought after item for players of my class.

And I was determined to be the very first to complete it.

As I moved along the path to take my leave of this dead realm, my mind was no longer on banners or Battle Fields or even Amara.

I became consumed with the quest contained in the scroll:

The Quest for the Shadow Blade.

An ancient weapon versus a magical bag of cats.

When a strange case of a detective being turned to stone baffles local police, retired investigator Mayra Beeweather is asked to assist. One of her tools of the trade is a magical bag which contains an infinite number of cats. Very special cats – each with a unique ability to aid in her investigation.

Yet, even with their help, Mayra may not solve the case in time, for she may be the next victim turned to stone!

I sat on my favorite park bench, perusing the newspaper when someone said, “Excuse me, Miss Beeweather, but might you help me, please?”

Bleary-eyed from reading small print, I looked up at the speaker, and squinted against the morning sun. “Beg pardon?” I said.

It was Penny, a frazzled looking red headed woman, who stood before me on the cobblestone path. She looked concerned, hands rubbing together like frightened animals. “I’m afraid it’s my son, Newlin, miss,” Penny said. “He’s got himself stuck up that tree.”

I looked where she pointed.

Sure enough, at the edge of the glade, high up a thick oak, a small red headed boy straddled a branch. He clung to the trunk with both arms for dear life. He looked as frazzled as his mother.

Now, to a casual observer it might strike them as odd to ask for help in this endeavor from someone of my advanced years. Especially when a fair amount of climbing would be involved. But supposed limits of old age has nothing on ability.

“Well,” I said, “He’s good and stuck, now, isn’t he?” I assessed the situation. “It appears he has made it up quite high, indeed.”

“Yes, miss,” Penny said, quick to agree.

“An ambitious little fellow,” I said, and stood. Various creaks and pops betrayed my bones with the effort. I put the newspaper down on the bench and shouldered my satchel with care. “Well, let’s see if help is in the offering, shall we?”

Happy, Penny nodded and we walked over to the base of the great oak. On closer inspection I saw the child, his eyes red with tears, scrapes on his arms and elbows.

“Are you okay, lad?” I called up to him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” the little boy sputtered.

I squinted at him. “Now why would a smart little boy like yourself do something so silly as get stuck up a tree?”

The little boy scrunched his face with concern. This appeared to be more than a random adventure which resulted in his getting stuck.