by A Uscila
Yet they had their uses – and their relative immortality would be one of the most outstanding ones. As he could endlessly send them off towards the most dangerous tasks, knowing fully that their death would only end as a temporary depletion of manpower.
With such and similar thoughts – Wail walked around with relative ease. Protected by a detachment of armored bandits, all the while flicking a constant stream of fireballs in every direction. Spreading fire and destruction to the settlement. A mirror image of it soon popped up on the other side of the street. Carried out by a terror of fire made flesh. Its’ sparkly mane jumping up and down from erratic movement, while flaming projectiles flew about in passing – leaving behind a storm, where once there was a calm. Sorro –active as ever.
“You about done over on your side!?” – Wail shouted, eyes glued to the little devil in anticipation of a reply. Their relationship still a weird one filled with ups and downs.
“I’ve been finished ages ago, you slowpoke! How about you pick up the pace yourself?!” – The devil shot back, only to jump into another smoking building for the supposed fun of it.
“Why I oughta…” – Wail grumbled silently, in an attempt to conserve his fragile pride in front of the surrounding bandits, fireballs loosed-about as if the conversation didn’t even faze him. An insecure gaze flickering to the closest underlings in search for insubordination or simply – mockery. Yet finding none. Mainly because their features were hidden under plated helms, while the surrounding noise shrouded any silent snickering that might have been taking place. Luckily for them – Wail was unable to continue the somewhat obvious probing. Because right around the corner – an angry mob marched into view.
Swinging torches, pitchforks, hammers and wooden-heeled boots. Wail could only hit his forehead in frustration – the action resulting in a timely dodge. As one shoe flew over his lowered head.
“…where the heck do they keep coming from?” – He complained in a somewhat disheartened tone, while some of the less preoccupied bandits soon rallied to face the new threat with raised shields and swords. A formidable figure covered in familiar black full-body armor at its forefront. A large black sword wielded with both hands – ready to feast upon the weak as a transparent glow shimmered around its’ body. Red strands of light flashing upon its’ smooth surface.
Seems like Bob was back in his battle-gear. Its’ return a lucky break – gotten from one of the many raided caravans, that were leaving Wail’s much-hated region capital. Seems like the shameless thief started selling off Wail’s fairly obtained property. A sin that the money-crazed warlock proclaimed to punish. Eventually.
With a sideways swing of black flame, Bob cut his way into the approaching horde. Cries of pain and screams filled with horror echoing in his wake. His incursion reinforced by a solid line of bandits who were doing a good job at maintaining the breach. Seeing an opportunity – Wail cast Soul Syphon upon the mob, only to follow up with a conjured fireball. Making sure to infuse it with plenty of mana for enhanced effect. Eventually releasing its’ anxious form back into the wild – right over the heads of his allies and into the middle of the peasant congregation. Moments before contact, the warlock swung his hands to the side in swift motion – the fiery projectile splitting into multiple pieces in reply. Falling upon the dry and poor quality clothes that the peasantry were covered in and introducing quick and effective drying services for any that were damp. Chaos ensued as those aflame started running about in a panic – screams of varying tones ringing about with relative annoyance. Their burning visages bumping into others and spreading the fire even more. With a devious grin – Wail snapped his fingers at the sight as if to portray how easy it all was. Yet the motion had a different effect altogether – with the fires igniting in a burst of fury, extinguishing in one bright flare of explosive might. Blowing apart some of those already at death’s door. While others fell to the ground lifeless, nothing but blackened and singed husks remaining in the explosion’s wake. Yet no matter how beautiful the display – the magic trick only consumed the flames that were in relatively close proximity, which was only marginally effective against a scattered mob of peasants that seemed ever bent on spreading about. The fire didn’t help much in keeping them together either, as some tried to avoid being set aflame, while others ran about blindly. Their ignorance of “stop, drop and roll” apparent.
“Oh, I’ll enjoy this…” – The warlock mumbled, only to snap his right-hand fingers once again. A similar reaction taking place within the gathering as a few more peasants burned out in a beautiful display of fireworks. Combustion in effect. Seems like Wail was enjoying the spell quite a bit. Though what interested him most, were the effects upon the use of this new toy. So far – he found out that he can only combust the flames that were ignited with his or his immediate subordinates help. Mainly – Sorro. Not only that – but the spell consumed the flames that are burning in near proximity. Though figuring out the required range in between the sources of flame, for the spell to use upon activation has yet to be found. In addition – the larger area to be combusted, the more mana did the spell demand. For instance – the first attempt on the peasants that so timely arrived to be experimented upon, consumed three hundred mana. Definitely not a large amount. Though seeing as the spell had no cooldown and with enough fire to use – mana might end up as an issue in the near future.
Still, the results were immensely satisfying as at times the spell’s use might bring out somewhat gruesome and gory results - if the target was already on his last breaths, that is. A possibility for demoralizing the enemy already a pleasant perk. All you needed to do was look away and stand far enough.
With such and similar thoughts – Wail and co quickly finished off the angry mob without mercy and with relative ease.
“Ok, pack up people! The party’s over!” – Wail shouted atop his lungs, all the while approaching a larger group of the deceased. His subordinates darting around and gathering in the near vicinity. Large sacks of loot strapped to their backs and readying to depart. With a few moments of stupor – black tendrils flew about towards the corpses. Their broken-down frames soon rising in un-life, to serve a new purpose.
Using them as a buffer zone between themselves and the remaining few who still resisted – their numbers swelling as people, most likely players, got hint of the action and were tempted to join in. A volatile force that Wail simply saw no need to entertain, nor was he interesting in sustaining losses in the skirmish.
“Move out!” – Seeing Wail ready and willing, Bob bellowed, as the whole procession moved out. A force of fifty with at least sixty percent consisting of heavily armored men. Their ranks marching out in a somewhat organized retreat, while those clothed in leather ran around to cut away any strays that thought of getting in the way.
Without any other unexpected obstacles – the raiding party departed the scene of the crime with surprising haste, only to halt on a nearby hill to admire the fruits of hard labor. An aurora of red shining above the burning settlement. Fires blazing and smoke rising from most of the buildings there – while small dots darted about in between. Some, most likely, attempting to put out the fires.
Congratulations!
You have successfully raided Tarrumn!
-500 Reputation
+50 renown
*You have gained experience points!
*Word of your dark deeds spreads amongst the regions populace, while law enforcement is on the lookout for you.
You have gained a level!
“…ha. You’ve seen nothing yet. You wanted a supervillain? I’ll give you one to remember…” – Wail grinned at the messages, quickly discarding them to the side of his vision only to resume gazing upon the settlement.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Do it!” – Sorro shouted from the side, eyes of swirling fire from the warlock to the settlement excitedly.
Grinning even more, the warlock narrowed his eyes and pointed his right hand at the settlement. Raising it u
p in a somewhat overdone and dramatic fashion.
And then he flicked his fingers.
The horizon flashed as if a new sun was born. Part of the settlement ignited with a breathtaking explosion of burning debris and smoke. Flaming tongues slithering in every direction for but a fracture of a moment. All captured in the eyes of all those present. Forever engraved in their memories as one of the most memorable moments.
-6451 mana.
Congratulations! You have committed an atrocious act of pointless destruction and murder!
-800 reputation
+70 renown
You have gained a new title!
Vandal
*Experience will now be gained for any owned property you destroy and vandalize.
*A bonus to the given experience will be provided whenever you enter a new local zone. This bonus stacks up to x5. Returning to the local zone you left any less than 24hours ago will not trigger this effect.
*Double experience will be given for each kill. Will only trigger when the kills are made as a direct result of destroying owned property or performing acts of vandalism.
*Property will burn down twice as fast.
*Whenever you enter a new local zone, the surrounding inhabitants (including players) will receive a notification of your arrival. The exact coordinates will not be given.
*Triple experience will be provided to whoever kills you, as well as 100 Fame. This information will be provided together with the notification.
You have gained a level!
You have gained a level!
Like an excited child, Sorro screamed with joy, all the while jumping in place a few times – his satisfaction plain to see. While Wail wasn’t too far behind – his own cackle filling the air, eyes gazing upon the result with a satisfied sparkle. The explosion took apart at least a sixth of the settlement, while consuming only over six thousand points of mana. A reasonable price for something so beautiful, yet so deadly at the same time. The title? For once, Wail was glad that the effects don’t stack and only one can be active at a time. He did not want or need any additional attention during these troubling times. Still – it could be of some use in the future. Who knows?
With his sword raised high – Bob released a cry of victory, the shout taken up by all those present as everyone raised whatever weaponry they had. Laughing and screaming atop their lungs – taking their time in the moment. Enjoying the results to the fullest.
Their joy was short lived.
Out of nowhere – a crouched figure clothed in black materialized behind Wail. Black smoke raising in the wake of his appearance, while two black daggers swiftly descended in deadly precision – piercing the warlocks undefended back with ease. Sliding in through his robe as if through butter.
You have received a critical hit!
Received 3466 points of physical damage.
You have received a critical hit!
Received 2877 points of physical damage.
“…what?!” – With a bloody cough and his legs buckling from a sudden loss of strength – Wail exclaimed. His head turning to the side in an attempt to glimpse at the one responsible. Eyes wide with anger, fear and finally – pain. Since receiving an amount of damage like that in such a short period of time was beyond painful. A splitting headache taking place together with the sharp pain coming from his back.
Yet before the perpetrator could be viewed – the finishing blow was delivered without a drop of hesitation. Without a shred of mercy.
You have received 1322 points of physical damage.
You have died.
*******
Outside of Alternative Reality, within a familiar gloomy room, a loud shout echoed – as the usual tranquility was interrupted. Ripped asunder at the hands of a scrawny human with a balding scalp. His frustration and dissatisfaction announced for the world to hear. Or at least the neighbors.
“Fuck!”
Chapter 56
It was a beautiful day - the sun smiled high-up in the clear blue sky, birds chirped and happy couples walked around hand-in-hand along the crowd-free streets. Every table in outside-inns seemed to be taken – visitors relaxing behind them with cups of delicious tea, savoring its’ enthralling scent before taking a sip. Enjoying the warmth and pleasantness of the environment. Or did they?
Unconsciously – many flinched every now and then as they became aware of a mood dampening noise. A slow, yet steady grinding – filling the background noise with an ominous echo. It’s speculated purpose – to grind away at the good mood of all those present in the near vicinity. As each passing moment drained away their mental fortitude to an extent that they even took notice of this malicious subterfuge. Their attentions taken away from the beauty of the day – some lifted their heads and turned their gazes in search for the source, only to regret their folly soon after. All of it – a trap to trip their good moods over in one, devious, swoop. A scheme. A successful one.
For what those present witnessed, while being guided by an irresistible sense of curiosity – was the black hole of negativity. The very source of all the sorrow this world contained.
Luke.
A practically visible gloom swirled around his figure, while the wails of the damned sparsely echoed in the background. Hunched behind the same table as most of those present, eyes fixated onto the horizon – which didn’t stretch far due to the surrounding buildings, Luke tapped a finger against the wooden surface. All the while moving his jaw in a monotonous motion from side to side – the source of the grinding finally revealed. Unkept and sparse black hair laid about upon his balding scalp, while worn, everyday clothing covered his almost skeletal frame. The light of the sun – what sparse rays managed to penetrate his aura of gloom – made his pale skin all the more distinct. Truly, an apparition.
It was most likely due to that, that Luke ended up avoided by the staff for at least thirty minutes, which might have had something to do with his disposition. Yet it was hard to say at that kind of level. Any worse or better made little difference.
Yet this one was a patient man. A patient creep – as his cold, drilling gaze followed each and every waiter that scurried about. Waiting. Stalking.
Inevitably – a mistake was made and a waitress came too close to the gloomy table, her back turned to the creep in forced ignorance. After picking up the orders from a nearby table, she was about to scurry off, yet was unable to. She froze – a mesmerizing yet blood-chilling voice reaching her ears in passing.
“…you have kept me waiting for the last half an hour” – It proclaimed through clenched teeth, a persistent tapping increasing in volume as the words were spoken – “When will my order be taken, miss?” – It added, ominously. Its’ tone lingering in the air as if a hidden threat.
Petrified, the waitress slowly turned to Luke with a broken smile, her professionalism all but failing to heed the call. When its’ presence was most needed.
Luck was on her side. As a friendly hand rested on a shoulder in an act of companionship - a male waiter intervened. Luke raised an eyebrow at that – especially towards the sly grin of the newly arrived, his eyes traveling across the waitress facial features and continuing on downwards. Hidden agendas all too clear to an observer.
Frustrated, the waitress awkwardly smiled, bowed her head towards her savior and scurried off, while the white knight approached Luke’s table with a completely different expression.
“Please sir, there is no need to scare our staff. We will get to you when someone frees up to the task” – The neatly dressed man said, his eyes sparkling with mischief, while the expression practically radiated superiority with a tingle of hostility. All of which were somewhat uncalled for – at least from Luke’s perspective. He seemed relatively young, maybe his mid-twenties. Tall, well-built. A stylishly cut head of medium length dark hair. Luke had to admit – the man had way more to feel good about.
Yet backing down was not his style. Not when he had a perfectly valid reason not to do so – earning a wage.
“Now listen here, Tom” – Luke began, after a quick glance at the waiter’s name-card –“There’s been enough staff free for the last…” – He looked at his phone – “…twenty minutes. You should really learn how to socialize quietly. I could hear you laughing in the kitchen from here” – Luke began, both hands now crossed against his scrawny chest – “thus my reaction is perfectly reasonable, considering I am intentionally ignored”
It didn’t seem that the waiter expected someone like Luke to fight back. Heck, he might have expected that this poorly dressed and scrawny fellow knew his place. Tough luck.
“…I wanted to avoid the topic if possible, but it seems you are bent on pursuing the issue…” – The waiter mumbled after releasing a heavy sigh – “…you have been disturbing our clients and the staff since the moment you got here and quite frankly – we were waiting for you to leave…”
“…Are you kidding me? Disturbing? How? By breathing?” – Luke shot back, temper visibly rising.
“…do I really need to point it out, sir? I believe it is quite obvious as is, there is no need to make a scene” – Tom replied with an air of superiority. Which was definitely justified.
“A scene? You haven’t seen anything, yet…” – Luke started, as he slowly stood up, only to be interrupted by a foreign party.
“Oh, just leave already!” – Some random fella shouted.
This is when Luke finally took in his surroundings properly. An unfriendly and even hostile stare gotten in reply from almost every single customer around, as some whispered amongst themselves fiendishly. Eyes directed at poor Luke during the process. It was clear as day who the majority saw as a nuisance. A culprit.