“Well? I grant you leave to speak, so speak!” The Cherub angrily flitted before me, his golden wings leaving trails of tiny motes of light behind him. I was taken aback by his attitude and took a step back. This was not the response I had expected from an angel and in that moment, something inside me snapped.

  “I summoned you, because I need help!” I retorted angrily. “I know I wasn’t supposed to open the box, but I did! What’s done is done and here we are! I am a Prophet, which apparently was a big mistake to accept as a Class, since it is going to get me murdered! I have been searching this Abbey for a group of missing villagers, one Satyr and an unknown number of monks! I cannot find a soul. I also have three Dungeons portals, yes you heard me correctly, three dungeon portals to enter before any of them begin to decay and spew out the Gods only knows what! Does that about answer your questions, Most Holy?”

  “Well!” The Cherub lifted his chin and his lower lip began to tremble. “No mortal has ever spoken to me before with such a tone. I have half a mind to…do you know who I am?”

  “I do not,” I replied flatly.

  “Then be educated and repent!” The Cherub threw out his arms and rose higher so that I had to crane my neck slightly to look at him. I am Octave Metatron Ancilius Sunbringer! 5th Seat of the 3rd Level of the 8th Ring of Great Ord’s Angelic Choir!” Octave floated and I stood still regarding him and there was an uncomfortable few moments where neither of us spoke until finally I asked a question.

  “Octave, I didn’t understand a single thing you just said so why don’t we begin again.” I sighed. I didn’t want to fight with an angel. Especially one that looked like it was about to start crying.

  “My name is Kenric Ordheim. I was tasked with delivering the box containing this sacred relic…” I held up the finger bone. … “to Port Tyren and Hierophant Johannes, whom you apparently expected to meet rather than myself. Due to a series of unforeseen circumstances, near death experiences and just plain bad luck I find myself torn between several difficult quests, a town recovering from Shadowmurk, searching for several missing individuals and the whims of the Gods and I do mean all of the Gods. You should also know that Sul himself told me to open your box. The higher powers have made it clear to me, through sporadic faction gains and losses, that I am the epicenter of some cosmic balancing act. Now that you know why I did what I had to do…can you both forgive and help me?”

  As I spoke Octave’s face morphed between upset, angry then finally to thoughtful. Finally, he spoke in a far softer tone.

  “I suppose you have been through a lot. To hallucinate and believe you have received a vision of the Lord of Chance is likely to be expected and not without precedent for mortals under duress. As I am magnanimous, I grant you my forgiveness and shall delay your punishment for the time being.” Octave nodded, circled my head and then flew off to examine the Red portal closer.

  “Right. Thanks.” I watched the Cherub circumnavigate the portal while shaking his head. I wondered if Sul, wherever he might be, was laughing.

  Just remember it was Cherubs who helped you win in the Dungeon against Infernals before. Of course, those were imps turned into Cherubs. A real angel will be even better. I hope.

  Octave flew back to me, a frown upon his face.

  “I hope you have something up your sleeve. That’s an Elite Red Portal. You’re dead if you go in there alone. If you are as mad as I think you are, please don’t take Ord’s sacred relic in with you? I don’t want it touched by some disgusting Infernal.”

  “An Elite dungeon?” My face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean? How can you tell?” Octave gave me a hard look then shook his head disgustedly and flew back towards the portal.

  “Come here, mortal.”

  Obediently, I approached the portal and waited for Octave to explain. The Cherub pointed at the swirling, red mist.

  “Look closer at the portal. Do you see anything different?”

  I narrowed my eyes and stared into the portal, but all I saw was the spiral of red…wait a moment!

  “What are those? They look like…runes of some sort?” Tiny, blood red runes would momentarily flicker into existence within the spiral before disappearing again. This happened a few more times and in each instance a barely perceptible, small rune would appear and vanish.

  “They are runes of an Infernal nature indicating this Portal has become an Elite dungeon. You wouldn’t know to look for them if you were not familiar with Dungeons, as you clearly are not. If you were to enter this portal, even with well equipped companions and Ord’s favor, you would find the challenge even greater than a regular Red portal would be!”

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  My shoulders sagged and I groaned. It was impossible! How could I possibly do this? I felt a small hand pat me on the shoulder.

  “There, there mortal. It is perhaps well you summoned me. I shall aid you in casting off your mental delusions. You say you are a Prophet? I cannot see your Class as such? To me, you appear a regular, unaffiliated Novice. That is because you are just a Novice, yes? Did Ord not accept you during your initiation? Is that why you stole Ord’s finger? Come now! Don’t deny it!”

  “What? No! I didn’t steal anything! Every word I told you is true!” I stared at Octave in shock. The angel floated a few paces away staring daggers at me. A golden bow appeared in Octave’s hands with an arrow nocked and pointed at my face.

  “That a youngling like you would put on such airs and make such claims. For shame! I have no choice but to subdue you and seek out someone in authority!” I held up my hands and backed away.

  “Wait! Sul said that Mir placed a veil of some sort over me to hide my Class from others. He said it was to protect me! I do have the Prophet Class, this I swear to you in Ord’s name!”

  “How dare you blaspheme! That the Lady of Mercy would bother doing something like that. Why? Protect you from what? If you are a Prophet then you should be able to prophecy events and protect yourself.”

  “They can do that?” I sputtered.

  Instead of arguing further, I did what I always now did and used Lore Sight almost reflexively.

  “What are you smiling at mortal?”

  Lore: Octave of the Angelic Choir of Ord, is a low level Cherub who seeks to prove himself and ascend to the level of Deva. He is unlike other Cherubs in that he is more aggressive in nature and often outspoken. This has not endured him to his peers or superiors.

  Advanced Lore: Octave is the worst singer in Ord’s Choir and often shirks his duties to sneak Heavenly Ale from Ord’s own Brewhouse.

  “You’re the worst singer in Ord’s Choir?” I said aloud. I thought the angel’s eyes were going to pop out of his skull.

  “What!? I have a wonderful singing voice!” Octave shook his fist, but before he could train his bow at me I held up a hand and smiled.

  “You also steal ale from Ord’s Brewhouse. Let’s move past the idea that a God even has his own Brewhouse and focus more on the fact that you steal from it, shall we?”

  “You…how?” I crossed my arms and smiled while Octave gaped. “Or perhaps we might even move past that as well and concentrate on the here and now. I summoned you because I need someone to help me with some dungeons. If a relic as important as Ord’s Finger brought you here then that’s good enough for me despite your larcenous nature.”

  “Larcenous!? I only drank a little!” Octave whined, but quickly clamped his mouth shut and glared at me. The Cherub sighed and took a deep breath. “Fine! I’ll help you, but you must listen to what I saw and follow my instructions exactly!” The bow disappeared from Octave’s hands and he floated closer. “A Cherub I may be, but I have a mind for strategy as sharp as any Deva! It is why I was placed into the Summoning Queue specifically to be summoned by a Hierophant for the retaking of Nephilim.”

  Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. A mind for strategy, eh?

  “Then I place myself in your care, Great Octave.” I bowed to the Cherub and that seemed to please him.

  “Good! Very good. Now then, a Prophet you say? I shall take you at your word. First things first. We shall start with the Green Portal Dungeon after we ascertain it isn’t another Elite Dungeon. If it is, we check the Blue Portal.” Octave gestured that I start walking and so I turned and started tracing my path back to The Haunted Scriptorium Green Portal.

  “A question, Octave. Would an Elite Green Portal be more difficult than a Blue Portal Dungeon?” Octave nodded and moved up to fly close to my head as we walked. This close, he smelled like a freshly washed piece of linen. I wondered if he would take that as a compliment?

  “Yes, an Elite Dungeon of any color would be more difficult than a Normal or Intermediate Dungeon. If the Blue Dungeon is an Elite as well, you’re screwed.”

  “Er…, well I hope that isn’t the case.”

  I really hope that isn’t the case!

  We both reached the entrance of the portal at the destroyed Scriptorium. It was easy for Octave who could fly over the still smoldering coals and burnt out timbers, but I had to carefully make my way over and passed them. Octave sighed in relief.

  “It isn’t an Elite. The two of us alone should be able to handle this as long as we set this up right.” Octave rubbed his chubby hands together and looked at me. “Now then, first you need to perform a Prophecy upon the Portal…”

  “Umm…”

  “Then, once we know what we’re dealing with we check your load out of Active Spells…”

  “The thing is…”

  “From there, under my instruction, we prep your spells and equipped items to maximum efficiency and from there…what is wrong now?” Octave snapped when he saw me wince.”

  “I can’t perform any Prophecy spells.” I said. Octave’s eyes narrowed.

  “You said you are a Prophet! If you are at least Level 10, which you must be to have even used the bone, then you must have a Foci! There was only one choice of Foci, so why can you not access Prophecy rituals?”

  “Because there were three choices for Foci and I haven’t chosen which one to take yet?” Octave stared at me until I thought the Cherub’s face was going to explode it became so red.

  “What nonsense is this? There is only one choice! There has only ever been one choice for Prophets. It is why they’re called Prophets! They make prophecies! What are you trying to pull here, mortal?” Octave yelled, indignation written across his childlike features.

  “Octave, it’s the truth! I think it has something to do with Prophets being murdered. Wik and Gor…”

  “Gah! Don’t mention the Lords of Shadow, they’ll hear you! They are very vindictive.” Octave covered his ears and gritted his teeth. I sighed.

  “I also have a choice of the Exorcism and Life Foci. I’m just not sure yet which path to take. Perhaps you might…aid me in the decision?” I tried to put some honey into my tone. Ord’s Mercy, who would have thought a Cherub would be so difficult to deal with?

  “Well, I don’t know. You have put me into quite the situation, you know that? Obviously Prophecy is the most obvious choice, but undoubtedly Wik granted you the choice for Exorcism. He hates the Undead with a passion and would likely want you to take that.” I nodded thoughtfully.

  “I see your reasoning. Likewise, Gor wants me to choose the Life Foci?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I don’t about that. Strange. Very strange.” Octave looked thoughtful and chewed on his lower lip. “It’s almost as if…well, never you mind! C’mon, we’ll just make this up as we go, I guess!”

  With that Octave flew behind me and started pushing me towards the Green Portal. I stumbled as I felt myself pushed forward. Octave was surprisingly strong for such a little guy.

  “Wait, are you sure we are ready?” I had no time for any more questions as the portal swallowed me whole. I did manage to catch Octave’s response, however.

  “Absolutely not, but what else could possibly go wrong for me today?”