by N H Paxton
As a final check, before heading out the door and on to the muster point, I went through my commodities and equipment. I had a full complement of Crossbow Bolts +1, which rounded out to one hundred, and my gear was all at maximum durability. I loaded a magazine into my Everdark Autobow, then clipped it to my belt. I fixed the sling on Gamma and slid it over my shoulder. I made sure my Dagger of Intelligence +2 was on my hip, then checked to ensure I had rations remaining.
I pulled up my character sheet and unloaded my unspent attribute points, following my previous path. I dumped 5 into Intelligence, 10 into Spirit, 5 into Dexterity, and 5 into Vitality. I needed to start bringing my Health points up.
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I FINALIZED MY CHECK, pulled the hood of my Robes of Azure Alchemy over my head, and left the workshop. The door slammed shut behind me with a clang. This was it, this was the last step before fate, the infinitely indecisive little bitch, would have her say in what happened to all of us within the Crimson Alliance. I had played my part in providing heavy artillery and a powerful platoon to the positions.
I walked up to the muster position, where the soldiers had gathered together for a final speech from Jack himself. He stood in front of everyone, he projected surety and confidence. I didn’t know if he was as nervous as the rest of us were, but if he was he didn’t show it.
“Today, we fight a battle that not only will decide the future of Rowanheath, but the future of the Crimson Alliance. One of these days, these lands will be free. What kind of free depends on you and your people and your decisions. Don’t let the Empire decide that for you!”
He stopped and looked around, clearing his throat.
“I know all of you are worried. The fighting will be hard, and some of you might not survive. Osmark did a terrible thing when he crowned himself emperor, right on the back of our greatest loss—the destruction of our home.”
There were some people shouting in the background, a few of them were yelling things like “Down with Osmark.”
“Hey, alright, come on, I’m not done.” Jack raised his hands up to quiet everyone down. It worked.
“We are going to attempt something that has never been done before, but that hasn’t stopped us yet! So, let’s get out there, and let’s do this thing! For the Crimson Alliance! And for freedom!”
Jack turned, his cloak billowing in the wind, and entered the portal directly behind him. A loud cheer rang out as hundreds of men and women from every race and class pushed through the portal directly afterwards. I looked down at my hands and clenched my fists, the leather of my gloves groaning as it rubbed against itself. I smiled, knowing that things were about to change, one way or another. We had prepared as best we could.
All that was left to do now was to see it through to the end.
Fate’s Battlefield...
I STOOD IN THE DARK beneath a large copse of trees. Before me, across an enormous open field, stood Rowanheath with its imposing walls and extreme defensive fortifications. The time was nearly upon us to begin the dance that Fate had declared.
Next to me, on either side, spread out thinly, were dozens upon dozens of mercenaries, Crimson Alliance fighters, and engineers. I stood behind a small artillery platoon consisting of four men-at-arms, an engineer, and a mobile Arcane Shadow Cannon. I was impressed at the functionality of the equipment, especially how easily it moved through the dense and terrible terrain. I had truly made something amazing.
“Lord Vlad.” A hushed whisper came from behind me.
“What is?” I turned around to see Eberand and the entire Ebenguard standing with a small militia platoon. Eberand gave me a thumbs-up, which I returned with an irritated grimace. Apparently they had made arrangements to be a part of the charge where I was before heading into the city proper once the gates were opened.
“It is nearly time,” whispered the engineer in front of me. He gripped the side of the cannon with a fierce determination. I thought his nails would carve rivulets into the device with how tight his grip appeared to be.
I took a crouched position when I heard the sound of a dragon screech, followed by a burst of flame. I knew that meant that Cutter’s team of Rogues, Firebrands, and cutthroats, tearing through the city, lighting things on fire and destroying any sense of control the Empire thought they might have.
The idea of chaos sent a wave of warmth through my heart, which was a little confusing since I would rather have had things organized and arranged perfectly. It must have been due to Gamma’s influence.
The red glow from fires blossomed over the walls of Rowanheath, contrasting with the darkness of the night. Apparently, the chaos was spreading.
It was only what felt like an instant later when a pair of fireballs scorched the sky. That was the signal to move out.
“Go, now, move!” I shouted at the engineer and the men-at-arms ahead of me. They immediately began wheeling the cannon into place, watching the cannons on either side of us also move at almost the exact same time.
I looked down at the cannon, my creation, my masterwork, and I had a thought. I quickly dropped a spare ability point into the Alchemic Weaponeer skill Enhance Heavy Weapon, which I hadn’t expected to ever use. There was no time for regrets. I laid my palm on the cannon and triggered the ability. The cannon shook for a moment before glowing gently, then expanding by nearly 10%.
The engineer that was to man the cannon gave me a nod, his eyes hardened, ready for battle, and before we had a chance to do anything else, the battle was joined.
I put my hand up, sending a small streak of flame upwards with Purifying Fire, getting the nearest cannoneers’ attention, then shouted, “Fire!”
There was a concussive force that nearly knocked me off my feet as the cannons all discharged at nearly the same time. The spheres of shadow energy they propelled were a sight to behold, manifestations of shadow elemental energy that arced through the sky. They were overly large compared to the cannons, almost the size of a wrecking ball one might find on a crane back on Earth.
The cannon fire soared through the air, a faint hiss left in their wake. The first spheres were beginning to impact the walls. The entire structure shook violently as reinforced stone cracked and trembled under the assault. Masses of burning stone and the splash from the cannon fire lit the night in an intense fireworks display, spewing purple and red flames high into the night sky.
The main gates opened, and hundreds of bodies poured out. My breath caught in my throat as dozens of heavily armored soldiers flooded out. They were cut down in seconds as arrows and spells rained down on them, annihilating everything they touched. Those that made it through the hail of destruction were met head-on with clashing steel and unyielding strength. The gates were shut only seconds later, leaving those who were on the outside of the wall to potentially die, painfully.
I was almost sure of our victory until I saw a violent blast of light, followed by a thunderous explosion. One of the far cannon teams had been taken out by a large explosive of some kind. I traced the projectile’s arc back to the wall and found that the enemy had brought out massive ballistae. The arrows they fired streaked through the air before exploding like a stick of TNT on impact, scattering everything within a dozen meters of the epicenter.
“Keep firing!” I shouted. My cannoneer had fallen to some stray fragmentation from a nearby ballista bolt explosion. I looked up and saw a triple streak of fireballs flying, scorching the night sky. It was the final signal; the spider riders would be mounting the wall now, heading for the Command Center.
My eyes were drawn to an intense and unexpected billow of red flame, pouring over a ballista. The flame came from a dark, almost black, small dragon strafing the wall. City guards and players fell from the walls into the waiting blades of our mercenaries.
I waved down one of the nearby mercenaries to take over the cannon, and I pulled Gamma from my back. The feeling of the weapon in my hands was a comfort as I stalked out from the relative cover of the back
line and took a position within the front firing line.
“Can we hit walls?” It was more of a question asked of myself than anything else, but I heard a response.
“Destroy!” I took aim and fired off a series of shots with Gamma. They burned the night air, blazing their way to their targets high up on the wall.
I took off at a sprint across the battlefield, hoping to deal some damage to the ballistae emplacements, and I caught the image of a dark purple gout of flame pouring from the dragon-like beast now floating above the wall. It burned through another ballista, knocking people off the wall.
I heard a small series of explosions as my Chaos Bolts finally landed. Shouts fell to my ears from the men and women manning the walls, only to be cut short as they either died in a fiery explosion or landed on the ground dozens of feet below.
“Dragon is destroying all things. Terrifying. Spits fire and shadow both.” I shook my head as I continued to run, hoping to keep ahead of any ballista bolts.
My luck ran out. Time slowed down as a ballista bolt landed a dozen meters in front of me. I tried to stop, but my feet refused. I threw up my hands, hoping to shield myself from the majority of the explosive force.
I was ripped off my feet and tossed, spinning, through the air. Before my eyes, Rowanheath inverted over and over as I was carried a hundred meters from the explosion.
I landed, greeted by the sound of my bones crunching and breaking, my interface lit up red in a dozen different ways. My Health bar flashed angrily, and a debuff notification appeared in my vision unbidden.
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Debuffs Added
Fractured Legs: Both of your legs are fractured. You are unable to stand or walk; duration, 2 minutes.
Shattered Ribs: Your ribs are shattered, making it exceedingly difficult to breathe. Stamina draining at 2 points/sec for 30 seconds, Stamina regeneration rate reduced to 25%; duration, 2 minutes.
Internal Bleeding: You have sustained internal bleeding: losing 3 HP/sec; duration, 1 minute.
Concussed: You have sustained a head injury! Confusion and disorientation; duration, 1 minute.
Blinded: Vision reduced by 87%; duration, 1 minute.
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This was not good. I couldn’t see out of one eye at all, and the other was painted red from blood that I assumed was coming from my head. I tried to shout for help, hoping that one of our few healers was nearby, but the noise of my shouts was lost to the sounds of fighting and the explosions of the ballistae and cannons.
I reached an arm up, hoping to get someone’s attention, but people were running in every direction. I managed to raise my head just in time to see a ballista bolt heading for the ground directly in front of me. At this distance, I would be vaporized.
I felt the arms claw at me before I knew what was going on. Time had stopped, or at least slowed down considerably. I was being lifted from the ground by Alvinoth, the Last Alchemic Weaponeer.
“Hey bud, told you I’d see you again.” He threw me over his shoulder, my broken body refusing to cooperate with my directions.
“What doing here?” I could barely croak out the question before my ribs sent jolts of agonizing pain through my body.
“Man, you just don’t want to stay alive, do you?” Alvinoth managed to get me to the tree line before the ballista bolt hit the ground.
Time returned to normal speed. The bolt hit the ground a mere meter from where I had been lying. It exploded, launching other soldiers that were too close ass over teakettle. I cackled madly, my voice a rasp thanks to my punctured lung.
“Is twice you have saved me.”
Alvinoth set my broken body on the ground before taking a potion from his belt, uncorking it, and cramming the opening of it into my mouth. It tasted of iron shavings and some kind of plant, but my debuffs immediately dissolved. I felt my body repairing itself from the inside out, my Health points returning to a more normal place.
“Oh, here’s this.” He dropped Gamma on my chest, the weight of the weapon more real than before. How had he found time to collect it?
“Many thanks.” I stood, slung Gamma over my shoulder, and put my hand out. Alvinoth took it and clasped my wrist.
“Here’s another one of those potions. Be careful, they’re very difficult and time consuming to make.” He handed me a vial from his belt and a notification popped up as I looked at it.
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Potion of Greater Mending
This potion was created through extremely advanced Alchemy. The recipe is long lost to time.
Restores 100% of Health points over 2 minutes
Removes all debuffs from the imbiber
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I slipped it into my inventory, dismissing the prompt.
Alvinoth pointed at Gamma slung over my shoulder and smiled.
“Ah, the mark of a true professional. Made yourself a Living Weapon.” His smile turned to a nod of appreciation before he raised a hand, palm out, stopping my answers.
“Nope, nope, it’s better if I don’t know. See, then I don’t have to lie.” He tilted his head to each side, his neck popping in the process, then he twisted his index and middle fingers together on both hands. He turned them in an inverted circle, one hand traveling clockwise, the other counterclockwise, then pushed them out. A small, turbulent portal appeared before him. “Alright, gotta run. Hey, don’t die.” He gave me a sly wink as he stepped into the portal and vanished.
“Who in hell is Alvinoth?” I shook my head at the sheer complexity of his existence.
There was a flash of light against the darkened and smoke-filled sky that caught my attention. It erupted from over the battlements at the central tower. My eyes followed flitting shadows and blasts of light as a pair of figures danced in the night, a deadly fight between the two of them.
There was something in my head telling me I needed to get there, that I needed to help the shadowy figure, but there was nothing for me to do. I thought I could make out Jack’s general profile, and somehow knew he was up there, but all of my knowledge was for naught. The gates were still closed, and we couldn’t get into the keep itself.
A notification hit my interface as the pair of figures plunged over the edge of the wall and down into the city below. It was almost surreal, watching them tumble. When they had vanished into the expanse of the city, I checked the notification I had received.
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Faction Alert!
Congratulations! Your faction, the Crimson Alliance, has captured the Rowanheath Command Center—The Faction Seat of the Knights of Holy Light. If your faction holds the Command Center for (30) minutes, you will control Rowanheath and displace the current ruling faction.
Time Remaining: 29:59
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So, the team sent to hold the Command Center had accomplished their task. That was the best news we could have possibly received at that time. The problem was, for another half hour, we still had to fight off the remaining forces that were bombarding our front lines with explosive missiles. With more than half of our cannons out of commission, that was going to be hard to do.
I wasn’t going to just stand around any longer, watching things unfold before me. I took off at a hard run, my Stamina points dropping by the second as I raced to the edge of the wall. I knew angles and physics; if I made it to the edge of the wall, the ballistae wouldn’t be able to target me or even hit close enough to do damage. But I could.
I made it to the wall, dodging a series of arrows that were loosed from the wall battlements on my way there. A few of the other mercenaries took my idea and followed me to the wall; some died in a hail of arrows and magic, launched from the wall by various guards and players still trying to hold the walls and provide support for those who might reclaim the keep.
“What’s the plan!?” One of the Crimson Alliance warriors had made it to the wall with me, and both of us were leaning over trying to catch our breath.
“Do not know, first plan was to not die.” I wiped sweat fr
om my forehead as I looked at the wall. It was definitely suffering from structural failures in many places, but not enough to cause an all-out breach.
“That one worked out okay. Got another brilliant idea?” The warrior pulled a pair of spiked gloves from his inventory and slipped them onto his hands. He clacked the spikes on his wrists together, then grabbed onto the wall. “I’m going up, wish me luck!” He leapt as high as he could, slamming his hands into the stone of the wall. He slid for a half second, but his climbing gloves found purchase, and he began to climb the wall.
Within mere moments, a half-dozen other individuals arrived at various locations up and down the wall, all equipping climbing gloves and making their way up the wall. I stared at one such player who hadn’t started his ascent just yet. I must have looked confused because he looked at me, shrugged, then shook his head.
“I don’t know, man. I was handed these before the fighting started. The guy said something about being an external breach team. I’m just doing it because it looks awesome.”
I looked up the completely vertical, fifteen-meter wall. I saw people in various stages of the climb moving about, then saw something above them that reminded me of how medieval-era castles were protected from this very same threat.
“No, down, down!” I shouted as loud as I could, but the raging inferno within the city and the sounds of battle all around me drowned out my voice.
The guards atop the wall upturned giant vats filled with a thick, viscous fluid. It ran down the sides of the wall and poured directly onto a few of the climbers. They screamed as they fell the full distance of the wall, covered in a scorching hot oil.
I sidestepped a falling body and a large stream of oil. The climber who had fallen, the first one to mount the wall, seized on the ground. His body stopped moving entirely, then faded.
Several of the climbers were starting to crest the top of the wall, and one was cut down before she could even get an arm over the top. The others made it to the top and I heard the sounds of scraping steel and shouting. A guard toppled over the ramparts directly above me, spinning as he fell.