An NPC's Path, Book 3
Deadman's Retinue
by Pavel Kornev
Release - October 21, 2019
Preorder on Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VHJ52T6
Time
left:
29 days
23:59:59...
WHAT’S
A LEVEL-99 player capable of doing?
Well, practically everything.
For example, he could use the Scroll of Rebirth.
Unfortunately, the player in
question wasn’t me...
Barth Firefist
Paladin
Level 99
... but it was my sworn enemy.
Barth would have no trouble
ripping all four of us to shreds, and the worst thing was, he knew it. Why
wouldn’t he? Goar - who was the most advanced among us - was still a good 25%
below him. And Neo was just a weak NPC not worth mentioning. So Barth wasn’t at
all afraid of coming up against any decent resistance, apparently intending to
trump everything with his first blow.
With a resounding whoosh, a
swirling vortex of flame formed around him and shot up, licking the marble of
the stairwell and spilling every which way as if it were alive, roaring and
howling.
In an instant, my mithril mask
became almost red-hot. I had to activate the Veil of Death. I felt a little
better, but the defense spell was quickly depleting my energy stocks. I
wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer.
Goar had it even worse: the
flames were licking his black armor, trying to find their way in and forcing
the orc to retreat toward the bookshelves. To no avail: the fire had already
consumed the entire ground floor of the library. Barth wasn’t playing for
peanuts: he’d invested his all into the fight, not willing to leave us a single
chance of survival.
Even Isabella - who was
perfectly at home with the element of Fire - now appeared lost. Unable to
counter the fiery spell, she put up a desperate defense. Barth, however, had no
intention of just standing there like an idiot. Roaring with laughter, he swung
his diabolical mace and threw himself at us.
Diabolical?
Indeed it was! We were all like
sinners consumed by hellfire.
I raised my flamberge, ready to
counter the mace (bad, bad idea!) but Barth changed the direction of the blow
at the last moment, selecting Isabella as his target. Caught off guard, the
Elven priestess received an almighty whack with a fiery spiked steel ball which
threw her against the wall.
You bastard!
The momentum of Barth’s attack
had turned his back to me. I swung my flamberge with all my might, burying it
into a gap between his armor and his helmet.
Powerful Blow! Accurate
Blow!
The swing itself was a beauty
but unfortunately, it didn’t book any result. The flames which licked his
reddish-orange armor suddenly solidified, bearing the brunt of the blow. The
freezing cold harbored within my sword proved stronger than hellfire itself,
dispelling the fiery spell which disintegrated with the sound of breaking
glass. My undulating blade glanced off Barth’s armor with a screech, unable to
penetrate it.
Forgetting all about Isabella
sprawled on the floor, Barth turned round in a graceful, almost dancing motion.
Now it was my turn to dodge the terrible mace. The fire raging inside tried to
impede my movement, forcing me into the weapon’s path. Still, I easily slid out
of its singeing embrace, evading Barth's deadly weapon.
He laughed. “I can see you’ve
been practicing!”
Even though he’d failed to get
the Scroll of Rebirth, Barth seemed to be in an excellent mood. Why wouldn’t he
be? His fiery blow had put us on the defensive, stripping us of the possibility
of engaging the lone opponent in a merry-go-round of attacks from all sides in
order to exhaust him and finish him off.
Now there was nothing we could
offer against him.
Offer? We were simply burning
alive!
Dammit!
My skin under the red-hot mask
began to hiss. There was only one cold thing left in the whole world: my
flamberge. Unfortunately, the ice trapped within it couldn’t counter the fierce
onslaught of the element of Fire.
Run! We had to get out of here.
Now!
The universal knowledge I’d
received with the sword now offered me the path of the shortest retreat. I cast
one last glance at the cornered Isabella, then stepped back.
And then...
Then it was all over. The
furious light of the magic fire had faded; so had the unbearable heat of the
Paladin’s righteous fury, replaced by a blissful, cool darkness.
“What the hell?” Barth cussed.
“Are you messing with me?”
Triumphant crowing resounded
from above. Tilting my head back, I saw Neo standing stock still on the stairs
overhead, exuding waves of healing darkness. The young man was shaking and
reeling from side to side as the pitch blackness that now lived within him
escaped, extinguishing the sunrays seeping through the windows.
Barth followed my gaze. He
bared his teeth in a hateful grin but didn’t get the chance to do much more. A
furious roar echoed through the room, shaking the still-burning bookcases. A
moment later, the smoke parted, releasing Goar’s black bulk. Normally, the
power of Equilibrium would have helped him to either immobilize or slow his
opponents down. This time, however, he used the other side of his skill,
slowing down time itself. With the speed
of a crossbow bolt and the power of a torpedo, the orc flashed through the room
and clattered into Barth.
The two heavily armored
warriors rolled toward the far wall, striking a flurry of sparks off the stone
floor. Goar ended up on top and took full advantage of the situation. Not
having the time to draw his sword, he simply smashed his armored fist against
his opponent’ helmet, bending the visor.
Still, my enemy kept his wits
about him. He uttered a short spell which threw Goar off as if he were a
ragdoll, sending the orc flying against a still-smoking bookcase which
disintegrated on impact, Goar landing on top of all the debris.
Barth climbed to his feet and
once again began swinging his mace. This time, however, the fiery storm
couldn’t burn us alive anymore. Goar promptly recovered, jumped back to his
feet and covered Isabella with his body.
“Die, you worm!” Barth growled
as he swung his arm, launching an orange fireball at the orc.
Isabella held out her staff in
front of her, deflecting the combat spell. The fireball hit and smashed a
window in a cascade of glittering shards.
Emboldened by her success, the
priestess lashed out at Barth with her ghostly whip. Still, the attack was
thwarted by the orange armor and crumbled without doing any damage.
Stalemate.
I glanced at Neo. The boy was
still busy blocking Barth’s fiery magic. His face was drawn and beaded with
sweat, his white-knuckled fingers clenching the banister. The freshly-minted Commander
of the Order of the Black Phoenix has reached the end of his tether and
couldn’t help us any further.
Oh well. In that case,
everything depended upon the strength of our weapons.
Barth took another swing with
his mace. Goar blocked the blow with his pauldron. He staggered but stayed on
his feet and even managed to strike back with his sword, penetrating the
paladin’s armor with its black blade. Immediately I slid behind Barth’s back
and struck his thigh.
The edge of my undulating blade
sliced through the joint in Barth’s armor, dealing a bleeding wound. Barth
cussed as he swung his terrible weapon again. Like a fiery comet, it struck me
right on the head.
Ouch.
Damage taken:
688 [470/1440]
A moment before the impact, I
had started to duck, so the mace only glanced off me,but it was enough to send
me sprawling onto my back. My game logs exploded with new messages reporting a
new level gained as well as my current resistance to fire and magic. My head
swam. My eyes - or my eye, rather - dimmed. Before I could recover my vision, I
rolled to the side and stealthed up.
Unwilling to chase an invisible
target, Barth switched back to the orc. Time and time again, his heavy mace
flashed gracefully through the air while Goar struggled under its pressure,
unable to counterattack.
Isabella wisely kept out of it,
concentrating on blocking all the attack spells while pumping Goar’s magic
shields with energy and casting an occasional blessing upon him.
Once again I slid behind
Barth's back - but this time, Stealth failed to deceive him. The spiky ball
crafted with an alloy of steel and fire met me full-on, forcing me to
somersault aside. My next attack, however, was slightly more successful,
my blow hitting Barth precisely where I’d
aimed, the sturdiness of his armor the only thing that saved him from serious
harm.
Burn in hell, you scumbag!
His wounded thigh didn’t seem
to hinder him in the slightest. He'd long restored his depleted health using
some healing spells. Goar, however, didn't boast such stamina. He started
missing blows more often, losing his footing, his sword slow and cumbersome in
his hand. Isabella’s support couldn’t really do much to tilt the battle in our
favor; all she did was postpone the inevitable.
And Barth seemed to be
indefatigable. He kept blocking our attacks with his sword, not letting us deal
a precise blow to the joints of his armor - all this while methodically beating
the crap out of Goar.
Suddenly Barth turned his
attention from Goar. With a clever flourish, he hurled his mace at me. I was
saved by my Leap. The fiery mace cannonballed past, only to be followed by yet
another swing, forcing me to constantly duck and recoil in an attempt to put
some distance between us.
Goar tried to counterattack.
Barth noticed the danger just in time, parrying the blow with his magic shield
which trapped Goar’s sword in its viscous embrace. The mace chain twirled
itself around the orc’s sword, ripping it out of his hand. Isabella dashed
forward and parried the next deadly blow with her staff.
Just as the two warriors
gripped each other in a clinch, Barth hurled Isabella through the air.
We were toast.
We might actually still be able
to get the hell out of here while we still had the chance.
Right at that moment, a figure
appeared in the doorway, clad in a full suit of armor with pauldrons fashioned
as lions’ heads with bared teeth. Its helmet was shaped like the head of a
tiger.
Prince Julian.
He took a swing with his spear.
There was no way I could dodge its leaf-shaped tip.
Talk about bad timing. As if he
couldn’t have respawned some other time!
He hurled the spear with all
his might, launching it through the room. I watched it sink into Barth’s orange
armor, entering his body between his shoulder blades, its tip protruding out of
his chest.
Unfortunately, the spell which
was deadly for the undead had failed to deal the paladin much damage. He swung
round.
“You!” Barth gasped.
Without saying a word, Julian
drew a two-handed sword from behind his back and went straight on the attack.
His recent defeat must have really pissed him off, seeing as he’d even
forgotten all about me, impatient to get even with Barth.
Or was it because of Isabella?
With a clatter of steel, Barth
the Paladin and Julian the Dark Knight were now locked in combat. I hurried
toward Goar’s sword lying on the floor and kicked it toward the orc. Goar
quickly perked up and grabbed it, then sprang to help Julian corner his
opponent. He did so quite cautiously, though, and wasn’t in a hurry to stick
his neck out, preferring to play the support role.
I wasn’t really looking forward
to falling prey to a chance blow, either. Now and again I’d shorten the
distance between us and jab at the joints in Barth's orange armor, then
promptly stealth up, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Prince Julian.
Trust him to give me a taste of his sword at the least opportune moment.
By now, Isabella had changed
her tactics too, assaulting Barth with brief flashes of combat spells. Although
most of them were absorbed by his resistance to magic, she did manage to deal
occasional damage, forcing the paladin to jolt and make mistakes. Stripped of
his divine magic, he gradually began to knuckle under. Compared to Prince
Julian who was very experienced in hand-to-hand fighting, all Barth could do
was cover himself, losing health which was now at 50%... 33%... 25%....
Come on! Just a bit more!
At this point, Barth
transformed into a fiery flourish which exploded in an avalanche of new blows.
Disengaging from Julian, he went for Goar and wrapped the chain of his mace
around his neck.
“Die, you swine!” Barth roared,
ripping Goar’s head off. As simple as that.
The orc’s beheaded body
collapsed to the ground. Once again I recoiled, about to scamper away. Then I
promptly changed my mind and stopped.
Shit! I only had a month to
make level 99! Only a month! How could I miss the chance to earn a shedload of
XP for killing the paladin?
Haste! Rapid Strikes!
My
greed and desperation propelled me forward. I lunged at Barth, every bit as
fast as he was. Faster even.
Barth
parried my first blow with the shaft of his mace. My two subsequent blows found
their target, but only the second one was a success as my flamberge’s
undulating blade glanced off his knee-piece and slid into the joint of his
armor, slicing through the flesh.
I drew back.
Still, Barth wasn’t going to chase after me. His supernatural acceleration had
already left him. His wounded leg buckled under him.
That’s
when he went berserk. With a sharp swing, he hurled his mace at Neo, twirling
it around him and jerking him off his feet.
The
darkness dispelled. I sensed the return of the fiery heat.
The
paladin laughed, wrapping himself in the scorching embrace of the fire aura.
“That’s your lot!”
This
time he didn’t bother to start a firestorm. Instead, he himself transformed into
a tongue of blinding flame. Two fiery swords grew out of his hands. His very
first blows burned effortlessly through Prince Julian’s blue armor, evaporating
a curse hurled by Isabella. In a split second, the tables had been turned.
What a scumbag!
I almost
choked on the wave of fury which flooded over me.
That’s
when I heard an almighty crowing overhead. Scarecrow dropped onto the scene -
but instead of descending onto Barth as I’d expected him to, he dove onto
Prince Julian, the phoenix’s dead black shadow enveloping the knight’s armor
and altering it ever so imperceptibly.
The
eyeslits of the tiger helmet lit up with hell’s dark flames. The lion heads
crowning Julian’s pauldrons came to life
and bared their teeth. The armor itself turned dark and slimy like the hide of
a submarine monster. Julian’s two-handed sword now resembled a bluish black
lash which effortlessly repelled the next blow from Barth’s fiery saber while
the scaly armor fended off the paladin’s other sword.
Before
Barth could do anything, his cuirass was cleft in two by a return blow.
Immediately Julian struck again, this time aiming at his enemy’s legs. Barth’s
wounded knee betrayed him, preventing him from leaping out of the way; he
staggered and barely managed to stay on his feet. As he stepped back, I saw my
chance. In a powerful but accurate combo, I thrust my flamberge forward,
burying it with all my might into a gap between his pauldron and his
breastplate. Barth’s left arm dangled listlessly.
Critical hit! Crippling injury!
Prince Julian immediately
rushed back into the fray. He brandished his metamorphed sword with terrifying
speed, sinking its black blade time and time again into Barth’s orange armor.
The paladin’s health dwindled quickly. I only had time for one or two more slashing
blows when Isabella joined in the massacre and gave Barth an almighty whack
with her staff.
Roger the skull - which had
grown a nice layer of spikes - crushed the damaged visor, turning Barth’s face
into a bloody mess. With a wave of his arms, he dropped onto his back. The glow
exuded by his armor faded.
At first, I didn’t even realize
he was now dead. Then a system message flashed through my field of vision,
reporting the XP received. This was followed by an avalanche of new level
alerts.
How many of them were there?
One... two... ten!
Although I’d only received my
share of XP, the game had generously rewarded me for the victory over such a
high-level player, allowing me to jump 10 levels from 60 to 70. Then again, it
wasn’t much reason to celebrate: somehow I doubted that Barth would be quite so
easily defeatable ever again - and in order to activate the Scroll of Rebirth,
I still needed to earn about 13 times more XP compared to what I’d just been
awarded for this little slaughter.
And where was I supposed to
find equally juicy mobs?
I gave Prince Julian an
appraising look but, having met his glare ablaze with hell’s flames, I hurried
to step back.
“Don’t even think about it, boys,” Isabella said,
arising from Barth’s body with a chainmail belt in her hands.
After a brief hesitation,
Julian sheathed his sword on his back. The darkness which had transformed his
armor now shrank back like a snake shedding its skin. His armor regained its
original luster.
With a triumphant crowing,
Scarecrow materialized out of thin air and shot upward.
Shit! Neo!
I ran up the stairs and heaved
a sigh of relief. Barth’s mace had failed to kill the boy, only stunning him.
Neo was already sitting on the floor, wiping his bloodied face with his sleeve.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m okay, Uncle John,” the
young man replied as he raised his hand. Scarecrow flew down and alighted on
it.
Although I hadn’t seen their
stats, all things pointed to the fact that Barth’s death had brought them a
fair slice of the gaming pie.
“And what was that?” I asked.
“I mean, what did you do to Prince Julian?”
Neo climbed to his feet and
shook his head to come back to his senses. “A Blessing of True Darkness,” he
caught my quizzical stare and added, “You can’t use it on dead creatures. And
as for Goar and Auntie Bella, they’re dedicated to other beings.”
I chuckled. “Talk about luck.”
Just as I said it, the door was
kicked open. Several players piled in from the street.
I reached for my sword but
promptly calmed down as I recognized Grakh among them. These were our Black
Tracker escorts. I just hoped that they didn’t hold it against us that they’d
been dragged into this meat grinder. Otherwise we would never fight our way
out.
At the sight of Prince Julian,
the warriors bared their swords.
Isabella hurried to step
forward. “He’s with us!”
“Whatever,” Grakh mumbled
unhappily.
The priestess ran up the
stairs. “Julian, come with me! Grakh, you check the second floor! Don’t forget
to post a watch! Grab all the scrolls!”
“Right,” the Barbarian replied, with much more enthusiasm this time. When did
he ever turn his nose up at a good bit of looting?
I chuckled and hurried after
Isabella and Julian up to the third floor. That’s where they kept the most
valuable books.
Time
left: 29 days 22:38:13…
TO MY
SURPRISE, Isabella managed to organize our
looting foray in an uncharacteristically practical manner. Each of us, even
Neo, was given an area to search. We rummaged through bookcases and carried our
discoveries to her for further sorting. The sheer amount of scrolls precluded
us from loading up the whole lot.
Strangely enough, Prince Julian
worked alongside all the others without even attempting to question her orders.
I tried to give him a wide birth but we still bumped into each other in the
narrow corridors of the library. Whenever we passed each other, neither of us
let our guard down.
Our own greed prevented us from
going for each other’s throats. The sale of all the looted scrolls could fetch
us a whole heap of gold, so this wasn’t the right moment to start any silly
quarrels.
And although our paths were
bound to cross in the future, this prospect worried me much less than the
countdown timer hovering in the corner of my eye. Whether created by the game
or my own overwrought imagination, this visual proof of the seconds burning
away really got to me as I watched my remaining time literally slipping through
my fingers.
A month! Only a month! Less
than thirty days!
If I failed to make level 99
and activate the Scroll of Rebirth in order to bring myself back to life, that
would be the end of me. The moment they had no more need of me, all charity
would end and someone would pull the plug on my hospital bills.
A sharp pain shot through my
back. I smelled scorched flesh. My whole body was racked by a convulsion. I
fell forward onto the bookcase just as Goar came back into the game. Clad in
armor from head to toe, the Paladin of Equilibrium clattered to the floor,
drawing his sword from behind his back.
“It’s all right,” I reassured
him, struggling to overcome my malaise. Apparently, being the altar of the
Mistress of the Crimson Moon wasn’t the most pleasant sensation in this world.
“Grab some scrolls and take them to Isabella.”
“Is he with us?” the orc asked
in surprise, glimpsing Julian’s outline in a neighboring corridor.
“Sort of,” I replied
non-committally, loading myself with books and carrying them to the front hall.
When I saw that Isabella was alone, I asked, “You sure you can keep the Prince
on a short leash?”
She smiled. “Don’t you worry,
kitten. Everything’s under control.”
Admittedly, her reply failed to
reassure me. Still, I chose not to dwell on it. Instead, I changed the subject.
“Goar’s come back.”
“I felt it.”
“And if the vampires get
killed, will they respawn next to me too? They’re really the last thing we need
here. Also, I can’t say I enjoyed the experience.”
“I’ve already deleted them from
your respawn point,” she replied. “You’d better get back to work! Nobody’s
gonna let us rule the roost for long. This place is far too coveted.”
Oh yes, she was dead right
there. We could expect visitors any moment now. And if they happened to be some
Spawn of Darkness looters, then the big question was how Julian would react.
I cussed under my breath and
hurried back to the depository. I even managed to empty a few bookcases when I
heard Neo’s voice,
“The Lighties are coming!”
Air reconnaissance is a great
thing, whatever you say. All this time, Scarecrow had been circling above the
library. He’d noticed the enemy’s avant-garde just in time, allowing Isabella
enough time to cast a portal.
She pointed at the pile of
books and scrolls. “Take as much as you can manage,” she leaned over the
banister and shouted down, “Grakh! We’ve got guests! Start building barricades!
We need to play for time!”
The sound of bookcases being
upended was her answer.
We hurried to scoop the
trophies into our bags, starting with the most valuable ones. That done, we
continued packing our inventories with everything we could lay our hands on.
Isabella took no further part in it, busy building some complex spell. It sort
of reminded me of the incandescent cloud back in the Dungeon of the Dead, only
this time the fiery lines that reached out to the ceiling forming the outline
of a majestic figure expired before they could heat up to a forbidding crimson.
I had no idea what she was up
to but it didn’t bode well for the approaching Lighties. Actually, it wouldn’t
be a bad idea for me to join in the slaughter.
It was all experience, wasn’t
it? I could always use some more.
The sound of an entry being
forced came from below. The warriors of the Sons of Light stormed the building
and stomped up the staircase. They were met by a flight of arrows which failed
to stop them. The barricade of the upended bookcases did the job much better,
though.
In the heat of the fray, a few
enemy sorcerers decided to use Levitation to get to the second floor but Goar
and Julian lifted an empty bookcase and hurled it down onto them while
Pathfinder archers peppered them with arrows until they retreated.
In the actual stairwell,
however, the odds weren’t going in our favor. The enemy was much more numerous.
I supported Grakh’s men by launching one Arrow of Death after the other but the
measly damage dealt by my spells couldn’t turn the situation round. The enemy
continued to hurl fireballs and bolts of lightning from below until we lost one
barricade, then another.
The Sons of Light kept up the
pressure. Their fighters had already flooded the staircase, replacing each
other when necessary. We had less than a dozen Pathfinders left standing.
When we reached the landing
between the second and third floors, Grakh was about to engage everyone in a
pitched battle.
“Enough!” Isabella called.
“Let’s get out of here!”
She was the first to dive into
the portal, followed by all the rest. Lingering, I noticed a crimson cloud form
under the ceiling, about to release torrents of liquid flame. The next moment,
the library tower became a blazing inferno.
Time
left: 29 days 20:47:28…
THE
CAPITAL of the dark side of the world was
located upon hundreds of islands in the Azure River delta: the smooth waters of
the seemingly boundless bay, majestic temples,luxurious palaces and grim clan
castles, dominated by the imposing Tower of Darkness could be seen from any
point in the city. The sheer affluence of it; all the expanse and grandeur!
We, however, had been ported to
a small closed courtyard, dark and damp, its overhanging roofs allowing only a
glimpse of the sky.
“What the hell?” I snapped,
looking at the moldy walls surrounding us. “Where do you think we are? Or is it
all part of your plan?”
“Of course not!” Isabella
retorted. “The force field isn’t stable, that’s all. It must have caused the
exit point to shift. I was going to port us to Lloyd’s shop!”
I opened the map. Apparently,
we’d been released on a neighboring island about ten minutes’ walk from our
supposed destination.
“Okay,” I shrugged. “Let’s take
a walk.”
“Shut up!” she held up her hand
and closed her eyes. “Give me five minutes!”
Goar removed his closed helmet
and gave a broad toothy grin, exposing his fangs. “You can have ten if you
want,” he sniggered as a barely visible glow enveloped his body.
Aha! He'd received a new level
too!
I gave Prince Julian an
appraising look. He didn’t seem in a hurry to distribute his freshly-gained
points. So I too decided against it. Distributing points is a rather intimate
pastime, don’t you think? Also, I was very close to another upgrade of my
undead side. You never knew who I might turn into. It would be better to wait.
Only half a dozen Pathfinder
warriors had survived the battle. None of them seemed in a hurry to leave us.
As for Grakh, he didn’t let Isabella out of his sight.
I’d love to know what kind of
deal they had between them.
“Uncle John!” Neo walked over
to me, then added under his breath, “I can open a portal to the shop and take
you with me. But only you.”
His ginger hair made a stunning
contrast with his pale complexion, appearing almost fiery, his eyes
unfathomable pools of black. The newly-baked Commander of the Order of the
Black Phoenix had evolved from a gap-toothed boy to a scrawny teenager who
hadn’t yet come to grips with his new status.
A piece of program code? I beg
to differ...
“No, thanks,” I patted him on
the shoulder. “I think I’ll wait for Isabella.”
“Please be careful, both of
you.”
Just as he said it, I heard the
sound of an explosion not very far away. The earth shook underfoot.
“Neo?” I said, becoming
anxious. “Can I borrow Scarecrow?”
He nodded. The dead phoenix
hopped from his shoulder onto mine and fidgeted unhappily, leaving claw marks
on my armor.
“See you in the shop!” Neo
shouted. A shimmering aura enveloped him; then it faded as Neo disappeared from
the here and now. This didn’t at all resemble a normal teleportation.
Clever little shit!
I threw Scarecrow into the air.
“Go, birdie! Go!”
With an indignant squark, the
black phoenix took to the wing. My ability to control the dead had formed a
mental link between us, allowing me to see the area through the bird’s eyes.
And I
can tell you, this was something to behold. The sky was enveloped in a gray
haze. In the distance, pillars of black smoke rose over burning buildings.
Combat spells flashed through the air. Two groups of players clashed in a
desperate fight on a nearby street: their war cries, barely audible over the
rattling of weapons, were picked up by the phoenix’s sharp hearing.
“Darkness!” one group shouted.
“Chaos!” the other replied.
I opened my eyes and shook my
head, trying to recover. “Darkness and Chaos? What’s this, a civil war or
something?”
“More like a St. Bartholomew’s
night,” chuckled Goar who’d already finished distributing his points. “The
Darkies are massacring the Chaosites.”
Hearing this, the Black
Trackers leader shivered uncomfortably and pointed his warriors to the
courtyard’s exit.
“Let’s kick some butt!” he
shouted as he drew his sword from his shoulder scabbard.
My uncomprehending gaze
followed the players as they left. I demanded an explanation from Goar but
before he could answer, Prince Julian piped up,
“Some of the Darkies have
switched sides and joined Chaos, so they’ve been declared outlaws.”
“That’s right,” Goar said.
“Those who didn’t manage to get out of the city in time are now fair game for
everyone.”
I whistled in surprise. The
admins must have noticed the Darkies’ military superiority. It must have been
them who’d organized this little confrontation in order to redress the game's
balance which had been disturbed by the Darks' zealous enthusiasm in seizing
the Light Towers of Power. But if so...
I looked at Isabella. “And what
about the Mistress of the Crimson Moon?”
Prince Julian sniggered. “What
a dumbass! Once a zombie, always a zombie!”
“Our foxy priestess is now with the
Chaosites,” Goar said with a grin, confirming my suspicions.
I looked back at the Black Trackers. But...”
“I can’t work it out, either,”
Goar replied under his breath.
It was nice to see that even
Julian was at a loss this time.
Just then, Isabella sighed
noisily as she came out of her trance. Goar’s eyes widened as he looked at her.
I could understand him. She was
already level 61, and somehow I didn’t think she’d gotten it all just for
killing Barth. Even if you counted her burning of the Lighties back in the
library, this kind of progress was still suspiciously fast.
“I can’t open a portal from
here,” the priestess announced. “We’ll have to walk back to the shop.”
“Do we have to?” Goar grumbled.
“What the hell for?”
“We need to get rid of the
scrolls before every auction is stuffed with trophies from the Kingdom of the
dead,” she explained.
Her desire to cream off all the
spoils seemed a good enough reason to take the risk.
I opened the map. “It’s about a
mile away. There aren’t many people around but there’s a bridge on our way.”
Julian cracked a condescending
grin. “We’ll battle through,” he beamed as he caught Isabella’s approving
glance.
“Are you ready?” she asked
Grakh.
‘Yes! Move out!” the Barbarian
commanded.
The Black Trackers were the
first to advance into the blind alley. I hurried after them to point them in
the right direction.
Scarecrow circled the sky above
the rooftops. With his help, we had no problem sticking to deserted lanes in
order to avoid groups of players regardless of their affiliation. Goar had been
right: here in the city, orthodox Darkies had the upper hand, storming the
Chaosites’ fortifications, rounding them up and posting pickets.
The game had acquired a yet
unseen urgency, especially for those hapless players who’d picked the wrong
side. Still, the balance was a sacred thing which might endow the Chaosites
with quite a few unique skills and abilities for their troubles. Freebies like
those were worth dying for; they were probably even worth selling your soul for
- in real life as well as in the game.
You think I have a bad opinion
of the human race? I wish.
Having met no one on our route,
we finally delved into a maze of windy side lanes when we were jumped by three
players hiding in a gateway.
“Darkness or Chaos?” they
shouted before they could even work out our affiliation.
“Equilibrium!” Goar snapped,
shaking his sword. Confused, the players quickly made themselves scarce. Not
one of them was above level 50: our group was way out of their league.
At the next crossroads, I
raised my hand, motioning everybody to stop. The embankment lay before us, with
a picket posted on a stone bridge across one of the wide channels. The entry to
the bridge was barricaded with furniture looted from the neighboring houses.
Several archers wearing identical black armbands were sitting on it.
Although there were barely a
dozen Darks there - whom we could handle if push came to shove, - there were
also two figures in gray robes, frozen by the pentagrams chalked onto the
paving stones further on.
Scarecrow banked into a steep
turn, allowing me to take a better look of the casters.
Shit! They were demonologists!
There was no knowing what type of legions from hell they might summon once we
tried to battle through.
I told Isabella about this
sudden hurdle.
She cringed. “Don’t even count
on me. I haven’t quite restored yet.”
“The next bridge is too far
from here,” Grakh said, frowning. “We’ll have to take a detour across two more
islands.”
“My time is almost up,” Goar
growled. “How about you?” he squinted at Julian. “Can’t you get us through?”
Julian shook his head. “They’re
not my clanmates. They won’t listen to me.”
“Then we’ll have to battle
through,” I said, not seeing any other way of reaching the far bank. “Get
ready!”
I stealthed up, seeing no
reason to continue this pointless conversation. There was still a slight chance
of some particularly observant guard noticing me due to my insufficient stealth
level, but luckily, it never happened. I jumped onto the parapet and walked right
past the barricade, but none of the archers were the wiser.
They must have used very
average players to block the bridge: people who were more than happy, for a few
Reputation points, to serve as a living shield for the demonologists who were
the ones I had to deal with.
I knew perfectly well that no
amount of luck would allow me to take out both of them. I had to think out of
the box. I chose one of them: a grim woman who appeared to be the more
dangerous of the two. Still standing on the parapet, I threw my magic lasso
over her and yanked her toward me while launching myself at the other caster.
The woman shrieked, her body
hitting the water below with a splash. I already stood behind the other
demonologist’s back: a Dark Elf, his robes decorated with complex embroidery.
The undulating blade of my
flamberge sliced through the puny caster's chest.
Powerful Blow! Critical Hit! Damage
dealt: 1070
Player Ron Brother of Abyss has been
killed!
Experience: +1220 [107 239/114 000];
+1220 [107 283/114 000]
Darkness: -50, Chaos: +17
He dropped dead onto the
cobblestones, right in the middle of his own pentacle. Luckily, no demons got
the chance to come to our world, but even without them, I didn’t have it easy.
The other players all came for me at once, and no amount of dodge could have
saved me from a few direct hits. My breastplate repelled some of the blows -
but even so, I’d immediately lost a good 25% of health.
Death was imminent - until the
barricade flew into the air in a cascade of burning debris. It was Goar, Prince
Julian and all of the Black Trackers trying to turf the bridge defenders off.
The archers didn’t even get the chance to loose off a single arrow before they
were all mowed down, followed by the warriors. Finally, Isabella made the river
water boil, cooking the female demonologist alive.
“Let’s get going!” she shouted.
We rushed over to the opposite
bank.
We managed to cover another
couple of locks without a hitch when Scarecrow screeched at the top of his
lungs.
I reestablished my link with
him and surveyed the area from a bird’s eye point of view. “Watch out!”
A dozen mounted Valkyries
appeared, galloping three abreast toward us along a narrow side street. This in
actual fact saved us: in the resulting melee of men and horses, we managed to
fight our way into a gateway and across a courtyard that opened up into a quiet
boulevard that led toward old Lloyd’s shop.
“This way!” Isabella shouted as
she dove into the shop’s back yard. As soon as the gate closed shut behind the
last of the Black Trackers, we heard the horses’ hooves clatter over the
cobblestones outside: the Valkyries rode past without noticing us.
We’d made it.
Time
left: 29 days 19:55:49…
ONCE IN
THE SHOP, Goar elbowed his way to the counter and
poured all the scrolls out onto it.
“I’ll be waiting for my cut!”
he warned us before logging out.
Seeing as only three of the
Black Trackers had survived the last skirmish, his leaving had considerably
shifted the balance of power in our little group. I cast a wary glance at
Prince Julian, but he was too busy fawning about Isabella like a lapdog.
Lovey dovey, bah.
“Stand in line!” Ulrich
ordered. “I can’t serve you all at the same time!”
First, he took the scrolls off
the remaining Black Trackers who then promptly logged out, too. Now Grakh was
the only one left in the shop. The burly Barbarian posted himself by the window
and looked out onto the street, not even trying to conceal his anxiety. Still,
he didn’t dare hustle Isabella.
Nevertheless, I’d love to know
what kind of deal they’d arranged behind my back. What kind of consequences might it have for
me?
I heaved a sigh, then opened my
status tab.
Strangely enough, I hadn’t
received the PK mark despite the fact that I’d killed that demonologist back on
the bridge. Neither had any of the others. Did that mean that the devs had
issued all players a license to kill and do as they pleased? Not a good idea.
That way, the Chaosites might not end up being the only victims; in fact, the
incensed players might start slaughtering everyone in sight.
But once my eyes fell on a new
bar entitled Darkness/Chaos,
everything fell into place. Its slider had barely moved - but if I continued to
smoke Darkies I might be automatically switched to the Chaos camp.
What an elegant solution: to
gather all the scum of the earth under the banner of Chaos where they truly
belonged. Because true Darkness was the epitome of true order, the kind that
the powers of Light couldn’t ever aspire to.
Having said that, the Lights had
their own share of hangups, too.
Neo’s voice awoke me from my
musings.
“Uncle John!” the boy called,
going down the stairs. “Your cup!”
He gingerly held the Moon Grail
by the chain in his outstretched hand, clearly fearful of touching it
accidentally.
I walked up the stairs and took
it from him. “Thanks. I’d forgotten all about it.”
His smile betrayed obvious
relief. The boy slid down the banister and walked out into the back yard.
I stroked the cold silver side
of the Grail and stashed it into my inventory.
“Kitten!” Isabella called as
she took a set of regenerating potions from the shop assistant. “You’re the
last one! Turf out your stuff! Don’t keep us hanging about!”
I began unpacking all the
scrolls, books and parchments, laying them on the counter. In the meantime, the
priestess gulped all the colorful elixirs and waved her hand in the air,
casting a portal to places unknown.
“Wait a sec,” I said, alarmed.
“What about the money?”
“The scrolls will be auctioned
off,” she said. “That way we might get more for them. Come on! It’s time we got
out of here!”
“Where to?”
“To my mistress’ tower. Staying
in the city is too dangerous.”
The door opened a crack,
revealing Neo’s curious head. “Can I come with you, Auntie Bella?”
“Come here,” Isabella said,
making some kind of sign over him, then did the same to both Grakh and Prince
Julian.
The fact that she’d ignored me
didn’t sit good with me. “Wait a sec. What was that now?”
Isabella laughed. “Didn’t you
see what was going on in the city, kitten? Darks aren’t gonna be welcome in the
lands of Chaos. My mark will protect them. It’s a bit like the friend-foe
system.”
“Well, that’s nice for them!” I
said, indignant. “So I don’t need your protection, then?”
“Kitten, please. Use your
brain. First, you’re not a Dark one. Secondly, you already have my mistress’
mark. Have you forgotten about the altar? You’re now a latent Chaosite,
kitten.”
Grakh and Julian exchanged
meaningful glances, then guffawed.
I cringed. “Sounds a bit
suggestive, don’t you think?”
“Don’t worry. Only the most
observant of them will sense the Chaos in you. And you should be staying away
from them, anyway.”
She couldn’t have made her hint at my undead nature any clearer. I
shrugged. “Just forget it.”
Ulrich coughed theatrically.
“Would you mind getting the hell out of here already? This thing makes me
nervous,” he said, pointing at the portal.
Isabella smirked. “As you
wish,” she walked over to the portal and motioned us to follow her. “Don’t lag
behind!”
We tagged on after her.
NIGHTFALL.
A grim tower, built with brown stone veined with scarlet. A
huge crimson moon, hanging high in the sky.
The small town nestled on the
empty prairie. Not a single light disturbed its dark expanse which reached to
the horizon. But the town itself resembled a disturbed anthill. The place was
bustling with workers busy building fortifications out of granite blocks and
magic. Countless NPCs were digging moats supervised by priestesses who placed
holy relics in the foundations.
The town was preparing for a
siege - and it didn’t look as if they’d make it.
Still, why was it night here?
As I voiced my question,
Isabella gave me a funny look. “That’s how our protection manifests itself,”
she deigned to reply. “This way, we’re safe from any attack for three months.”
Grakh coughed, attracting our
attention. “I’ll go, then?”
“Please do. They’re waiting for
you in the temple.”
The Barbarian dashed into the
night. Isabella followed unhurriedly.
“Where are we going now?” I
asked.
“The Sisters will put us up in
the guest house.”
We strode along the dark
streets of the little town.
Three months of never-ending
night? The idea gave me shivers. The dead might be used to the pitch blackness
of underground tunnels, but three months? That’s a bit too much.
Shit! What was I talking about,
three months? I only had one month left! One month!
Twenty-nine days, eighteen
hours and how many minutes?
And in this relatively short
time, I was supposed to earn over a million XP point? 1,300,000, to be precise.
What guest house was she talking about? I had to go and start smoking mobs
ASAP!
Strangely enough, Isabella
seemed to have lost all interest in my problems after her recent outburst. She
walked in front, talking to Prince Julian as if nothing had happened.
“If you don’t take the orcs’
territories into account, the lands of Chaos are scattered all over the world,”
she was telling him. “I don’t think we’ll be able to unite them.”
“Don’t the Light have their
share of renegades?”
“They do, but far fewer. It’s
still not quite clear to us which of the enclaves will fall and which might
become the harbingers of the new world.”
Harbingers of a new world? Was
she off her rocker?
I was dying to shout, You’d better get on with your work! Are you
a lieutenant or not? Still, I didn’t really feel like airing our dirty
linen in public. Prince Julian was the last person I wanted to hear about my
problems.
Dammit! Why would Isabella suck
up to this nonentity?
Was I jealous? The thought
caught me unawares. I gave a mental chuckle. I was indeed. I could say I was
jealous! At the moment, I needed her undivided attention. All her in-game time
should be devoted exclusively to me. And instead, this “lieutenant” was making
eyes to a total stranger! That just wouldn't do.
I sighed. Neo was walking
alongside me, staring curiously around.
Talk about carefree.
And he was immortal to boot.
Not the fake immortality of human players - he had the whole of eternity in
front of him. Or... at least until the last server of the Towers of Power shut
down. Which was still nothing to sniff at. He had more time than me, that’s for
sure.
Neo watched Scarecrow soar back
into the sky. “Uncle John, what’s with all the gold we get from the scrolls?
Would you like to take my share?”
I really wanted to say yes. I
was dying to. I even knew what I’d spend it on. Still, I shook my head. “You
keep it.”
“What am I gonna do with it?”
he asked in surprise.
“What about the Order’s
treasury? You’ll have to recruit more followers and build new temples,” I
stopped and snapped my fingers. “Wait a sec! Are you sure you have at least one
temple already? Where are you going to respawn if you get killed?”
“Sure,” he said. “I received
that shrine in the mountains.”
The young Commander of the
Order of the Black Phoenix lingered behind, pensive, while I caught up with
Isabella and Julian.
Just as we walked past the
central entrance of the Temple of the Crimson Moon, Grakh came running out of
it, shouting,
“It worked!”
I stared at him, trying to
pinpoint the change in him but noticing nothing new. He was still the
co-chairman of the Black Trackers clan. Then my gaze fell on a new line in his
status:
Guard
of the Crimson Moon
Grakh had switched sides and
joined Chaos? Why was he so happy, then?
Prince Julian proved quicker
off the mark. “So!” he drawled, turning to Isabella. “His whole clan has sworn
allegiance to your mistress?”
She smiled. A shimmering
crimson haze enveloped her, merging with her own aura, empowering her and
filling her with incredible force. She’d become the High Priestess!
My jaw dropped. How come?
“You’d better shut your mouth,
kitten,” she said, “you’ll catch flies.”
“We need to talk!”
She waved a dismissive hand.
“Later!” she snapped, turning back to Graph. “Can you open the portal on your
own, guys?”
“We can,” he replied. “But
we’ll do it tomorrow.”
The outline of his body began
to flicker, then faded as he logged out.
Today had been a real day of
surprises, dammit! You could say that again.
I stared hard at Isabella
again, but she didn’t allow me to utter a word.
“Not now!” she quipped as she
started to skirt the temple.
We walked all the way around
the grim edifice, then threaded our way through a maze of narrow passages and
blind walls, leaving behind the flashes of magic, the shouting and the
builders’ fussing about. It was now completely dark; even the ominous light of
the Crimson Moon couldn’t penetrate down here.
I was seething inside, eager to
clear up the situation here and now. Still, some stills are better left unsaid
in the presence of strangers, so I had to hold fire.
I had to wait. Wait.
Wait! And wait! How I hated the
word!
By the time we’d reached the
guest house, I was completely beside myself. Still, Isabella immediately sloped
off with Julian to his room on the third floor.
“We won’t be long, kitten,” she
gave me a wink before slamming the door shut right in front of my nose.
What the hell?
I felt like breaking the door
down and forcing an entry, but came to my senses just in time. I stomped down
the stairs and went outside.
Neo was still there, busy
feeding the dead phoenix with scraps of food he’d scraped up from somewhere.
“May I?” I asked, reaching for
Scarecrow.
The boy nodded. I took control
over the bird which hissed his displeasure and made him fly up to the third
floor and perch himself on the relevant windowsill. Although the shutters were
closed, the dead bird’s hearing had no problem detecting the rustling noises
and whispers that came from inside.
“Normally,
I don’t do this sort of thing IRL...”
“Normally,
I don’t, either...”
I felt a tug on my sleeve.
“Uncle John! It’s not right to
be a peeping Tom!” the boy announced with somewhat misplaced moral rectitude.
“I’m not peeping!”
“You’re eavesdropping!”
I heaved a doomed sigh. With a
powerful flap of his wings, Scarecrow shed off my control over him and took to
the air. His black outline flashed past the crimson disk of the Moon and
disappeared into the darkness.
“I was just doing a bit of
reconnaissance,” I explained, trying to justify my actions to him.
“You should learn to trust people,”
the boy remarked patronizingly.
I shook my head and tousled his
ginger mop. “You should dump that dangerous notion as soon as possible.”
His head shrank back. “Get away
with you, Uncle John!” he made a face. “I’m being serious!”
“Me too.”
For a while, we continued
arguing just for the sake of it. Finally, Prince Julian came out into the yard.
I had to bite my tongue not to say something improper: in Isabella’s absence,
he could very easily take offence and go for his sword, so I had to keep my
witty observations to myself.
He gave me a grim look, then
proffered his hand to Neo. “Count me in.”
They shook on some deal that
was unbeknown to me. Immediately Julian’s armor darkened. A new line appeared
in his status:
Champion
of the Order of the Black Phoenix
Unable to keep the next stupid
question to myself, I let out an amazed whistle. “So! Are you sure they won’t
kick you out of the clan?”
Julian winced. “That’s none of
your business.”
“You think it’s worth it?”
The newly-baked Dark Knight -
for he was truly Dark now - gave me a condescending look. “Better to reign in
hell than serve in heaven,” he said, then pointed upstairs. “She’s waiting for
you.”
I immediately lost all interest
in the conversation and flew up the stairs to the third floor. The door was
wide open; Isabella stood in front of a full-length mirror, studying her
reflection with a satisfied smile.
I couldn't contain a sarcastic
smile. “I take it, you failed to lead him off the right path? Did he refuse to
join your coven?”
She gave me a haughty look and
shrugged. “I've only just started,” she said suggestively.
I laughed. “Get over it. Neo
must have offered him a better deal.”
“What?”
“He bought your Prince lock,
stock and barrel.”
Isabella launched on a complex
diatribe of cussing. A new system message popped up:
Isabella Ash-Rizt has deleted you from
the High Priestess of the Mistress of the Crimson Moon quest!
“You didn’t expect that, did
you?” she said with a smirk.
I ignored her provocation.
“Didn’t need it, anyway.”
Never mind. There’re lots of
ways to skin a cat in a game. If you failed a quest, all you had to do was look
for another option. And Isabella had done just that, probably realizing that I
was as useless as a chocolate teapot for her purposes.
“So I wasn’t the only reason
you accepted the quest?” I asked darkly.
She sniggered. “You joking? You
just happened to be there, so I grabbed you. I have my own agenda here. I won’t
cry because you’re not around.”
“That’s funny. You don’t seem
to mind that I might not get out of the game in time.”
She slumped into a chair and
crossed her legs. “You’ll manage,” she said with a dismissive shrug.
How can you be so sure? I need
to raise over a million XP within a month! You think that’s nothing?”
“Keep your hair on. Tomorrow
I’ll find you a nice dungeon to cleanse. You’ll get by. Goar will see you’re
all right.”
“Is that it?”
She arched a brow. “Is it not
enough for you? Do you need money? That’s not a problem, either. You can take
all the gold we’ll get for the scrolls. Julian doesn’t mind. Just make sure you
pay Goar and the boy.”
I faked a pensive chuckle.
“That’s already a bit better.”
“Enough, kitten! I need to
split! My time’s up!”
“Wait,” I stopped her as she
rose from the chair. “Does that mean you’re the top dog here?”
“Not at all. I’m just part of
the inner circle now.”
“What, by striking an agreement
with some third-rate clan?”
She laughed. “A stitch in time
saves nine. Didn't you see what was going on in the city? This will bring a
shedload of players to our camp, and not all of them will agree to side with
the Swords of Chaos. The Black Trackers might become the proverbial grain of
sand which will become a precious pearl. And don’t forget that thanks to you,
my mistress was able to enter the Kingdom of the Dead. It might come in handy
in the future.”
“Bah!” I snorted. “The place is
now overrun by the Spawn of Darkness!”
“It’s not set in stone yet,”
the priestess said. “They never managed to take over the Power of Decay.”
“No way! Seriously?”
“Bye, kitten!” she disappeared
into thin air, leaving me alone.
“Hey, wait up! What about me?”
Too late. The only answer I got
was Scarecrow’s lousy crowing outside.
Oh great.
Time
left: 29 days 17:56:29…
I
DECIDED AGAINST leaving the room. I closed the door,
cast a dubious look at the disheveled bed and planted myself into the chair
which creaked its protest under my weight. At the end of the day, it made no
difference where I waited for Isabella and Goar to log back in. It was still
better than pacing up and down the street.
Also, there was a new message
blinking in the very corner of my eye, asking me to distribute the available
points. Which was exactly what I decided to do. I had to know what kind of
creature I might become this time.
Out of force of habit, I
started by investing 3 of the 10 points I had into Strength. Immediately I
regretted my decision. My damage numbers were decent anyway, so what was the
point in persevering with this stat? Shouldn’t I concentrate on Agility
instead? On the other hand, I was still a sorcerer albeit a greenhorn, so I
could always use a few magic abilities in combat. Which meant that I shouldn’t
ignore Intellect and Perception, either.
Dammit!
With a heavy heart, I added 3
points to Agility, then gave 2 to Intellect and another 2 to Perception. I might
regret my decision in the future but in any case, I had no intention of staying
in the game long enou...
I dropped to the floor,
suddenly shuddering in convulsions. Never before had I suffered such a cruel
transformation. My whole body burned as if on fire; my evaporating flesh
hissed, turning me into a taut, pale-skinned bag of bones. The magic tattoos
had swollen up, filling with a wicked sapphire glow and burning right through
me like countless lightbulb filaments planted under my skin.
Then it was all over, replaced
by insurmountable fatigue, indifference and the realization of the fragility of
life.
Dammit! So what was I supposed
to be now?
I scrambled out of the chair,
walked over to the mirror and removed the mask.
An abhorrent skull stared back
at me. A sunken nose; thin pale lips did nothing to cover my teeth. My only eye
glowed with a blue flame.
Only a mother could love a face
like this! The worst thing about all this was the disappearance of my Almost
Alive skill. I tried to activate it but couldn’t. I just couldn’t find it.
What the hell was that now?
I checked the description of my
new identity. Aha. Now it all fell into place.
Ancient Lich!
Shit. It wasn’t as if he’d died
recently enough to be able to pass for a human being. Which meant that now I
couldn’t appear in public without the mask.
Overcoming the desire to check
all the other changes in my char, I added 1 pt. to Dodge. Dammit! My status as
an Apprentice didn’t allow me to raise it any further. Ditto for Stealth. What
a predicament.
How about professional skills?
I improved Incognito and Execution, selected Circle Strike as an additional
skill and invested the two remaining points into Two-Handed Weapons.
John Doe,
Executioner, Hangman
Undead. Ancient
Lich. Level: 35. Human, Rogue. Level: 35
Experience: [107 239/114 000]; [107
283/114 000]
Strength: 35.
Agility: 35.
Constitution: 24.
Intelligence: 12.
Perception: 12.
Life: 1680.
Endurance: 2065.
Internal energy: 840.
Damage: 500–650.
Covert Movement: +25
Dodge: +35
Critical damage when attacking a target
oblivious of your presence.
Professional skills: “Incognito” (5),
“Execution” (5), “Hangman”.
Fencer: two-handed weapons (6), weapons
in one hand, “Sweeping Strike”, “Powerful blow”, “Power lunge”, “Sudden blow”,
“Accurate Blow”, “Crippling Blow”, “Blind Strike”, “Rapid Strike”, “Circle
Strike”, “Lightning Reflexes”
Creature of the
Dark: night sight, penalty for being in sunlight, Retinue, Suzerain, Crypt,
Lord of the Dead, Skin of Stone +15, Resistance to magiс +10%, internal
energy +20%, spells’ efficiency +20%.
Neutrality: the
Undead
Enemies: Order of
the Fiery Hand, the Swords of Chaos clan, subjects of the Lord of the Tower of
Decay.
Immunity: death
magic, poisons, curses, bleeding, sickness, cures and blessings.
Achievements:
“Dog Slayer” Grade 2, “Tenacious”, “Man of Habit”, “Destroyer”,
“Slayer of Circle-5 Demons”, “Defender of
Stone Harbor” Grade 1, “Pioneer”, “Carrier of Divine Will”.
Well, well, well. So what had I
received with my new reincarnation? My dead flesh had become slightly more
resilient to slashing blows; my resistance to magic had improved as had my
internal energy; I’d also received a 20% bonus to magic damage. Not bad, even
though none of these changes made me a great wizard. All it did was more or
less allow me to compete with same-level players, that’s all.
How about Retinue and Suzerain?
The former turned out to be an
improved version of the Lord of the Dead. It allowed an Ancient Lich to control
all the undead whose levels were four times lower than his own. It happened
automatically, requiring no expenditure of internal energy. That wasn’t bad;
then again, it was nothing to write home about.
But the latter skill made me
chuckle in surprise. If Entourage allowed the Lich to surround himself with a
retinue of the dead, Sovereign permitted him to enslave human beings. The Lich
could use his vassals to siphon their health and energy. He could even devour
their souls, turning them all into undead in exchange for himself becoming stronger
and faster, albeit for a short while.
My joy was somewhat tempered by
the fact that you couldn’t enslave the first person you met: he or she would
have to swear an oath of allegiance first.
I could play this trick on
Goar, I suppose, but he wouldn’t be much use for my purposes, anyway. How about
a group of mercenaries? I spent some time contemplating the idea, then shook my
head. Too costly. I’d rather use the money to buy the missing items of the
Deadman’s Set.
The money? Which money? I had
nothing yet! Selling scrolls at auctions is a long-winded affair.
Cussing, I scrambled out of the
chair.
Very well. What else did I
have? The Crypt? What the hell was that?
The
Crypt is a place of power of the Ancient Liches, allowing their spirits to
materialize once their physical bodies are destroyed. Being in the Crypt
improves one’s sorcerous abilities and restores one’s energy.
The description was followed by
a number of stats: rate of regeneration as well as various bonuses. Still, my
gaze was glued to one particular line.
“Allowing their spirits to
materialize”! Did that mean that I could finally get rid of the wretched skull?
Yes please!
The crypt-building ritual
proved to be not too difficult. All I had to do was find a suitable dungeon. As
soon as Isabella logged back in, I’d have to talk to her about it. Her Mistress
of the Crimson Moon wouldn’t miss some scruffy old basement, would she?
My mood thus improved, I moved
on to studying my Executioner skills.
Execution
V.
Experienced
executioners never hurry. They know which points of the body hurt the most.
Their knowledge of anatomy allows them to observe their opponent’s physical
vulnerabilities to crippling blows whenever they get the chance to study their
enemy prior to combat.
+10% to
your chances of dealing a critical hit.
+5% to
your chances of dealing a crippling blow.
Not bad, you think? Not bad at
all! Such a shame that this ability was tied up with Perception which wasn't my
strongest point. In any case, the improved chance of killing an immobilized
victim with one blow was already good news.
Never mind. What next?
Incognito
V
Sometimes,
executioners have to keep a low profile, hiding from the enraged families of
the criminals they’ve executed. They’re quite used to taking on another
person’s identity.
Stealth:
+25%
Oh really? I laughed quietly.
This improvement, on top of being able to conceal my profile from other
players, would also allow me to assume another person’s name and even pass for
an NPC. Although I wouldn’t be able to fool those who already knew me, it would
deceive any strangers with no problem at all.
Life is a bitch, isn't it? I
got myself a unique character that I could spend my whole life playing - and
instead, I was desperate to get back to real life ASAP.
Just think of all the opportunities!
I shook my head and opened the
spell book. Unfortunately, my character’s lack of Intellect had dropped me in
it: I’d only received one spell for each level between 7 and 10. The bad news
was sugarcoated by the Girdle of Memory which had added an additional spell
each, classes 4 and 5.
At this point, I completely
zoned out, trying to weigh up all the pros and cons and fit my unmeasurable
needs to my rather curtailed possibilities. I couldn’t become a full-fledged
sorcerer but I could use magic to give a lethal edge to my combat skills. I
just had to give it a lot of thought.
In the end, I added Shield of
Death to Haste and linked Dust with Decay. Unlike Veil of Death, the former
spell didn’t cover the sorcerer with a protective sphere. Instead, it created a
small power shield which required much less energy. The latter spell turned all
dead bodies to dust, raising a cloud which absorbed all magic attacks and
deflected arrows and crossbow bolts. All you had to do was kill enough people
to activate the spell. Yeah right.
After a brief deliberation, I
selected Phantom Skulls for level 7. This spell created additional magic energy
storage which could become quite useful in combat, seeing as my own internal
energy stocks left a lot to be desire. What was the point is choosing some
super-powerful combat spells which might use up all my mana in one or two hits?
That would be neither here nor there.
I opened the next tab in the
spell book. First things first, I checked the unique magic of the undead as was
my habit. Immediately my attention was drawn to Bone Path.
Bone
Path
A dead
sorcerer has no problem getting into his own crypt, wherever he might be. Bone
Path will lead them right through the world of the dead.
Seeing as my crypt was already
as good as sorted, I unhesitantly chose it.
Thus encouraged, I opened
level-9 spells. Still, they proved to be so impressive that I, miserable excuse
for a wizard that I was, couldn't cast most of them anyway, simply due to my
lack of energy.
Why on earth had I had to waste
my available points on Intellect and Perception? That made no sense.
I kept shuffling the spells
until I finally decided to study The Trump Up My Sleeve. This was an auxiliary
spell allowing me to set up any other spell one level inferior to it, then
activate it literally with a flick of a finger.
As I turned the page, I already
had a distinctly bad premonition. Shit! Almost all of the icons there were gray
and inactive.
Seeing as my stats didn’t allow
me to use them, all I could do was study the few exceptions. Strangely enough,
I soon got lucky, spotting a strange name amid all the standard attack spells
which were way out of my league.
All-In.
Apparently, this spell allowed
me to burn up the entire internal energy stocks of any sorcerer provided I
caught him unawares. All I had to do
was touch him and spare a little of my own mana. I was a bit worried about the
spell’s limitations which required my enemy to have no more than three times my
own stocks of internal energy. But still...
Not bad! I’d make quick work of
any ability-deficient mage!
But that was me. The majority
of normal casters wouldn’t be able to even approach their enemy Without their
sorcerous skills, they were pretty useless.
Having studied the skill, I
paced the room for a while. Unable to keep my excitement to myself, I then
walked downstairs into the yard but it was completely deserted. Neo had sloped
of somewhere, so I had to go back up. Never mind. My conversation with him
would have to wait. I was already lucky I hadn’t bumped into Prince Julian down
below. Even though he’d already calmed down a bit, I wasn’t looking forward to
any sort of tete-a-tete with him. That was the last thing I needed.
Once my excitement had abated -
and as the sky outside had no intention yet of turning to daylight - I decided
to try out my newly-acquired skills. I started by setting up Trump Up My
Sleeve. Choosing a spell to go with it was a no-brainer: I used Cloud of Death
which took the longest to activate.
It didn’t happen straight away:
the magic just refused to compress. But after some focused effort, I managed to
set it up. The spell took shape, weighing down on me quite palpably. Never
mind. I’d been through much worse.
Next, I activated Phantom
Skulls but the result was, how can I put it, rather unorthodox. Their fabled
“external magic energy storage” turned out to be a real skull hovering in
mid-air. So I had to deactivate it: anyone who’d see it would know straight
away that I was a Death mage. Did I really need that? Also, its capacity was only
10%, and in order to get another one - I scrolled through the description - my
Perception had to be level 15.
What a predicament.
Never mind. I could always use
it in the dungeons. It wasn’t a good idea to appear in public with a thing like
that.
Having finished with all that,
I turned the armchair toward the window and leant back in it, waiting for the
day to dawn. I had no other option, I’m afraid.
No comments :
Post a Comment