by Troy Osgood
He heard a whistling sound, seeing arrows streak by overhead. They slammed into shields, some of the guards already having quivering shafts stuck in the shields. Fire shot past, a gust of wind pushing at him.
The soldiers held the line.
With a roar, Jackoby charged, a large blur crossing the distance. Heavy feet slammed against the ground, the large hammer raised above his head. A solid thud came from the side, pressure slamming into Hall as a low and heavy form thundered past. Angus mooed loudly, horns lowered.
The two, warden and highland cow, hit the shield at almost the same time. A loud crash echoed across the lake, wood shattering, bones breaking, men yelling in pain. The sheer mass that hit the soldiers knocked them aside, creating gaps in the line.
Pulling a small throwing knife from his bracer, Hall activated Leap, trusting in the aim of the Rangers behind him. He arced into the air, launching the small knife at the apex of his jump. The blade glowed blueish-white, turning into a streaking bolt of energy. It slammed into the surprised Expedition Blademaster, catching him in his shoulder. Small bolts of lightning erupted on impact, spreading out from the wound, wrapping around the shoulder. The man grimaced in pain, shaking his right arm to work out the sharp pains stabbing through his nerves.
He was distracted, not seeing Hall coming for him.
Using Leaping Stab, Hall caught a soldier in the shoulder, stopping the man from hitting Jackoby in the side. Pulling the spear out, his momentum dragging the soldier to the ground, Hall landed in front of the Blademaster. With the Attack of Opportunity given him by the Leap Ability, Hall stabbed forward with his spear, expecting to score a solid hit.
The Blademaster dodged to the side, kicking out as he did. Hall felt a sharp pain as the man’s foot connected with his shin. Grimacing, Hall was knocked off balance.
“I don’t know who you are,” the man growled, drawing both his swords, “but you’ll regret attacking us.”
He twirled the blades, the sharp edges whistling through the air. The hilts were plain, a dark metal, the blades thick at the base, running straight and curling at the top. Sharp edges caught the sun, making bright points as they spun. Shifting his stance, the Blademaster stopped the spin of the weapons. Left hand held high over his head, blade pointed at Hall; right low, blade extended out straight.
“You’ve done some damage,” he said, stepping forward, stabbing with the right sword, twisting around as Hall dodged, the left swinging right where Hall had moved.
He managed to bend backwards, turning a solid slash into a grazing cut. The blades were sharp, the wound stinging. Hall could feel blood dripping down his arm.
Hall stepped forward, leading with the spear, trying to catch the Blademaster where he was going, not where he’d been. He still missed.
The Blademaster was fast. Already a couple of steps back and Hall hadn’t seen it. Had to be some kind of Duelist, Hall thought, recognizing the dancing fighting style as similar to what Caryn used. As a Skirmisher, he was fast. His defense was about avoiding attacks, using his quickness and the reach of the spear to keep away from his enemy. Duelists danced around, using their speed and agility to attack and avoid attacks.
Feeling a presence at the back of his head, Hall feinted an attack. The Blademaster swung out a sword, lazily batting away Hall’s spear. Another attack, another block. Hall swung harder, stepping forward into the swing, forcing the Blademaster to use both weapons.
Opening his back up to Pike.
The dragonhawk swooped down, talons extended. Flying past, the sharp talons ripped across the Blademaster’s back. The man growled in pain. Pike spiraled into the air, corkscrewing high and diving down. Opening his beak, Pike screeched, unleashing a bolt of blue-white lightning.
Staggered by the impact, smoke rising from the wound, the smell of burnt flesh joined by the streaks of lightning shooting around the man’s body, the Blademaster let down his guard.
Taking advantage, Hall activated Double Thrust.
The spear shot forward, slicing across the Blademaster’s side, the second thrust barely hitting the man’s thigh. He was quick. Even recovering from Pike’s attack, he’d avoided most of Hall’s strikes and still managed to counterattack.
Hall barely got his small buckler up in time to deflect the right sword, but he couldn’t avoid the left. The blade sliced across his chest, not cutting through his Rhinoc hide armor, but still hurting with the impact. Hall thought he felt a rib crack. He knew one cracked with the flat of the left blade slammed into his side. Even the thick hide armor couldn’t absorb all the blow.
“What is that?” the Blademaster asked. “Rhinoc?”
He swung quick, both blades flashing. Hall caught one with the spear, the other off the buckler. His arm stung with the impact. Pike dove down, talons extended, but the Blademaster danced out of the way, sending two more attacks at Hall, catching one. The other got through his defenses, sharp steel cutting across his arm.
Hall grimaced in pain, his nerves on fire.
“I like the look,” the Blademaster said. “We’re about the same size. Shouldn’t be hard to adjust it to fit me.”
Hall tried to ignore the man. He knew it was just a trick, a way to distract him.
“I see Greencloaks behind you,” the Blademaster continued, both blades swinging together. Hall dodged, managing to get the buckler up in time to stop the backswing of the right blade. “I had told the general we should have pressed forward, driven the Rangers back to Timberhearth. Maybe now he’ll listen to me.”
Hall managed to get a stab in with the spear, making the Blademaster dart to the side, using one sword to push the spear away.
“But then maybe he was right. You are here after all.”
Hall fell back as the Blademaster pressed his advantage. A blade sliced across his arm; the tip of the other barely avoided his throat. Hall blocked with shield and spear, barely keeping up. No longer talking, the Blademaster kept up the unrelenting pressure, keeping close so Pike couldn’t swoop in for an attack. Hall backed up, feeling his heel bump against a body on the ground. He stumbled, almost falling down, keeping his balance but at the expense of his defense.
The sword stabbed forward, slipping through a weak spot in his armor. He felt it slice into his side, blood leaking out.
Stepping forward, the Blademaster leaned into the sword, pushing it deeper.
Hall felt the pressure relent, the blade pulling out.
Jackoby’s shield threw the Blademaster away, the Expedition soldier landing hard. He sprang to his feet, a storm of splinters striking against him. He batted some away with his swords, more finding a way through, sticking into his skin. Pain filled his face as he backed up.
There was no backing away from the stream of fire that slammed into him. The orange and red flames had a purplish tint to them, hitting the Blademaster and spreading around his body. Burnt flesh and hair filled the air, smoke rising from the man.
Jackoby stepped toward the burning man, who somehow managed to raise his swords in defense. A sweep of his shield and Jackoby bashed the weapons out of the way. The hammer slammed into the Blademaster’s chest. He bent over. Jackoby swung the hammer down, snapping the man’s neck. The body crumpled to the ground, the flames still burning.
Hall leaned against his spear, his breath rough. The wounds hurt.
“Stop them,” a voice shouted from behind.
Turning, Hall saw Ganner running to them. Lissie was just behind, drawing her bow. She let the arrow fly. Hall followed it as it arced through the air, shooting past, heading further down the street. He watched as it fell short, skidding across the hard ground, missing the Expedition soldier who was running away.
Running into the forest. Running to the Desmarik.
Running to warn them.
Hall sent a mental command to Pike. The soldier heard the sound of Pike’s wings, the whistle of the diving dragonhawk as he cut through the air. The man ran faster, disappearing into the trees. Pike pulled up, Hall si
gnaling him to return. He knew it was too late.
Chapter 35
Hall felt the healing energies flow through his body. Leigh’s tattoos glowed blue, the energy spiraling down her arms, passing into her hands and into Hall’s body. He felt the many cuts, large and small, start to pull together. It was painful, not as bad as receiving the wounds, but still hurting. The pain flared as the loose skin fused together, leaving no scar. Then the pain was gone, and Leigh let go of his arm.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect,” he said, moving his arms to work out the stiffness.
She went to help one of the others, leaving him to look at the many notifications flashing across his vision now that the battle was over.
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+10 Experience (+10 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+35 Experience (+35 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Bladeswinger
+10 Experience (+10 Faction Enemy Bonus)
SLAIN: Expedition Blademaster
+20 Experience (+20 Faction Enemy Bonus)
Skill Gain!
Light Armor Rank Two +.5
Skill Gain!
Polearms Rank Four +1.2
Skill Gain!
Shields Rank One +.8
Skill Gain!
Small Blades Rank Two +.9
Skill Gain!
Thrown Rank Two +.4
RETAKING THE NORTH I
Kill members of the Expedition Lumber Company 93/150
Retake the village of Cliff’s Walk 1/1
There had been a lot more Expedition soldiers than Hall had thought. They’d gotten lucky, outnumbered almost four to one. Most of the soldiers ended up being lower level, a few equal level and only the Blademaster being higher.
The experience was nice, and he’d gotten up to rank three in Small Blades.
It had fallen silent after the fighting. The only noise was the Druids’ healing. There was no sound of fighting from the upper tier, which told Hall they had won up there. He assumed the quest number reflected how many they had managed to kill. He didn’t know, not wanting to count up the bodies to check.
A door opening caught his attention. An older man stepped out, looking down at the bodies of the Expedition soldiers. Stepping up next to one, he kicked the body, leaning down and spitting. Nodding in satisfaction, the old man walked to Hall.
“You’re the one in charge?” he asked.
A tall man, his hair had gone all gray. Long and bushy beard, hair that had been allowed to grow unruly. A gnarled and lean frame, he looked like a man who had worked hard his whole life.
“I am,” Hall replied. Beyond the man he could see Dain and the others coming from the other side of town, having followed the road and swept the last few homes. There were more villagers emerging.
The old man looked at Dain, noticing the Greencloak.
“Greencloaks? Took ’em long ’nough to get here.”
Shaking his head, he turned back to Hall. “We thank you for this,” he said, motioning to the dead Expedition soldiers. “But ya know they’ll just be back.” It was said as a statement of fact, not an accusation. “And there’s more of those strange ones back in the woods.”
“We know.”
That caused the old man to glance at Hall sharply. He studied the Skirmisher, glancing at the others, noticing the Druids. His eyes widened at Leigh’s antlers. She self-consciously pulled her hood up, hiding most of them.
“I think I know what yer about,” the old man said with a nod, confident of what he had guessed. “There’s an awful lot of them big greens there and some right scary monsters too.”
“Are you talking about Warfang Hill?”
“Aye, that I am. I figured that’s why yer all here. Cliff’s Walk is away from everywhere. No value to anyone, which was what surprised us when the Expedition folk came ta town. None o’ us are fighters, so was pretty easy fer ’em.” The old man paused as Dain approached. He nodded to the Ranger. “As I were saying, they came and pretty much took over ta town. Let us do our thing, but no one was allowed out o’ town. Then the big folk came with the white-skinned elves.”
He cursed, spitting on the ground. “Forced the McGregor boy ta lead ’em to ta Hill. Not sure what they did there, but the boy didn’t return. That’s when the land started dying.”
“The white-skinned elves are Norns,” Hall said. “The others are from islands months to the east and are called Desmarik.”
“Don’t really care,” the old man replied. “They came, and life ain’t been good since.” He turned his eyes on Dain. “Been wondering how long would take ’til the Greencloaks showed up.”
Dain grimaced, the expression quickly fading to be replaced by one of apology. “With the aid of the Desmarik, the Expedition Lumber Company has been pushing south. They are in complete control as far south as the east-west road and have control of some southern towns. The Greencloak Rangers are being driven back.”
The old man looked off over the lake, processing what Dain was saying. A minute or so later he nodded.
“Explains much,” he said. “Begging yer pardon,” he added, looking at Dain.
Dain nodded, accepting.
“Not needed, good sir,” Dain said. “You are correct that we are here for the Hill. If we can stop what the Desmarik are doing there, we can start to take the Hedn Wood back from the Expedition Lumber Company.”
“None here have been to ta hill since the McGregor boy didn’t return. Not like they’d let us,” the old man looked at the gathering crowd of villagers, turning to look at those on the upper tier, crowding the edge. “Don’t rightly think any will be interested in going either.”
“We don’t want to put any of your people in danger,” Hall said. “If someone could tell us how to find Warfang Hill and give us an idea of what to expect…”
“That we can do, lad.”
Hall looked around the town hall building. Nothing fancy, it was very similar to the one in Skara Brae. A large room on the first level, big enough to fit the entire village on benches. A raised stage was at the back, doors leading to offices beyond. A set of stairs to the side led to the second level.
The room was empty except for a handful clustered at the stage. A table stood in the middle, everyone around it. Hall and Dain and three of the villagers. The old man, who had finally introduced himself as Jeric, a woman named Sasha, and a teenage boy named Dere. The boy was Sasha’s son, the other McGregor lad. She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders, glaring at Hall and Dain.
Hall did his best to ignore it. They weren’t taking the boy into the woods, just needed his knowledge.
Spread out on the table was the physical copy of Hall’s map. The area west of Cliff’s Walk wasn’t visible. Next to it was a smaller and much rougher map. Not much was shown, just the area a day or two away from Cliff’s Walk.
Jeric’s and the boy’s eyes widened as Hall started sketching on his map, copying the lines from the other. Jeric had no skill in Cartography, his map not scaled and rough, missing details. Using the familiar land on the east of both maps, Hall managed to create a scale, allowing him to get better use of Jeric’s map.
“Tell these folk where the hill is,” Jeric told the boy, motioning to the maps.
Dere looked up at his mother, who nodded, still glaring. He turned to Hall’s map, studying the
lines.
“I think it’s about there,” the boy said, pointing to a spot that Hall estimated to be almost a day away from the village.
He glanced at Jeric.
“Most folk avoid the hill and west o’ town,” the old man said with a shrug. “It’s wild and unprotected country,” he added with a glance at Dain. Not quite blaming the Greencloak Ranger. “The young folk treat it like a rite o’ passage. I ain’t been in close ta five decades.”
Hall created a marker on the map. He wished that they could have referenced Dere’s map, but the boy didn’t have one. Not yet. That was something that came with age.
Skill Gain!
Cartography Rank Three +.4
He had been surprised to learn that age was a requirement. He’d assumed that all natives, the NPCs of the game world, had maps. Everyone he’d met did. But they’d been older. Dere was the youngest he’d directly interacted with. He wondered how it worked for the map to be made. Did someone have to teach Dere the basics? Did it just happen? It was something else new post-Glitch. Before, NPCs didn’t have their own maps, mental or physical. When they needed to indicate something, it just appeared on the player’s map.
“What is out there?” he asked, rolling up his map.
“All the passage has been through the village,” Jeric began. “I doubt they be coming up from the west. There been maybe two dozen o’ them green-skinned folk, a couple of that looked the same but red-skinned. I saw a half dozen o’ the white-skinned elves. Norns, you called ’em.”
“You said there were monsters,” Dain prompted.
“None o’ the villagers have seen ’em, just heard ’em. Ain’t never heard nothing like it.”