“Either you tell me, or we leave,” I got angry. “I do not want to die.”
“An ideological kamikaze, isn’t he?” Bom snorted, looking like a gigantic black bear standing on hind legs because of the mud.
“For Roska,” the skinny elf stared at me — and ran his hands over the bald skull, smoothing his imaginary hair.
“What the hell for?”
“Lugr hates Snessa. Lugr has old friends. Four more …” Explained Orbit.
“Are you crazy? We have a contract with the Snessa! I do not want to piss her off.”
“So what?”
“We had an agreement with her!”
“So what? You had a con-t-tract … and she? She is a g-god, Ros. G-gives her word — t-takes it away. She is not your paladin-i-in. Dirty - clean. She thinks only of herself. And Roska is a threat. The eternal t-threat ...”
“She does not need to kill Roska. She will hunt for another.”
“And if it does not work out?” Bom suddenly burst in, squinting at the turquoise veil furiously shimmering under enemy strikes. “They are watching her, Ros. So what if your own dad was not watchful. In Valdira, you can be more cautious. If Snessa was not able to overwhelm the Lugr – then we need it.”
“Exactly,” said Orbit. “It is necessary!”
“Alright, fine. But … even if we manage to diminish his life a little … But hardly! Even the goddess could not kill him! I have powerful scrolls, but they are not enough - that’s for sure!”
“The tower,” the elf interrupted me, “the t-tower is b-broken ...”
“The armor?” I turned and looked at the huge monster through the veil of magic protection.“Hmm … well … maybe. We will not kill him, but we can take off the armor. Will you be able to back with a horde of ghosts?”
“Oh, yeeees….”
“Then Let us proceed. But not right away! Bom, bury yourself.”
“What?”
“Bury yourself,” I repeated, taking several items and scrolls out from the backpack. “Go into the mud. Hide behind Kolyvan and bury yourself. You have twenty-five seconds. Then we will start to retreat, taking the Lugr behind us. You will wait, and when we walk about thirty meters down the slope, you will get out and destroy the tower.”
“But …”
“No arguments,” I snapped. “Dig! If the monster sees you, we will warn you. Until we go behind the hill - do not move. I do not think that Lugr can go uphill with great speed. Probably, he will go no faster than a snail. The tower is heavy.”
“Got it, boss.” The half-orc was behind Kolyvan in a single jump. Lumps of dirt flew into the air.
“Cray, everything is on you,” I continued. “You are my shield. I am behind your back. The emphasis is not on your vitality, but on our jumping. We will retreat and dodge everything thrown at us.
“OK.”
“Doc, climb onto Kolyvan. You heal Orbit and the mammoth. Walk in such a way that Cray and I are between you and the monster. And you also jump.”
“We are f-flying creatures,” said the elf. “Bom is b-buried… shall I cover it with the K-kolyvan waste?”
“Very funny! Alright, Let us move!”
The mammoth shook his heavy head and backed away. A muffled retching was heard from the ground. Fucking Orbit! Does he take anything seriously? He threw more garbage onto Bom…
With a slight ringing, the magic “curtain” disappeared. A fossilized root, which was more like a spear, whizzed through my ear. The fun began …
“I got you!” Bravely roared Cray.
“I am running away!” Added Orbit, giving the mammoth a spur. Together with Doc, they began to run.
I had never had to do such a thing — to kill a monster was one thing, but to “undress” it was quite another. Okay - considering my level and game experience, I would agree to do this with live, running sheep. But the ancient, evil monster … it did not go too well.
I spent only nine scrolls, choosing those which had a physical effect as opposed to a purely magical one. I used my own spells - “string” for striking the monster’s legs and “ice” for damage.
Everything was like a strange film, where they used cool effects, stunning scenery, stunning monsters and cheesy actors. And we spoiled the whole thing, falling into the mud now and then, clumsily rolling in it, getting up, and jumping from side to side and falling back on our asses again. I tried diligently, but unskillfully, to play the role of a circus clown — a master of all trades, as tradition goes. I did combat and healing magic, drank potions and gave them to Cray. Soon, we had to put another “flickering echo” shield.
Pleased with the pause, the Lugr began to grab the heaviest boulders he could find and toss them at us with excitement, hoping to break the magical field and flatten us. While Cray was restoring his health, I would rush from one end of the wall to the other, shooting ice and “string” – I could not reach the strong legs of the monster, but at least I deflected some stone. The stones were ground into pebbles, and they disappeared into the mud. A minute before the shield went out, I used a mass magic scroll, bringing down rain of stone on the angry roaring enemy, enclosing his entire carcass in a howling tornado. And the air tornado acted surprisingly well — greedily tearing off whole pieces of the tower from the “shell” of the Lugr and swallowing them. What was even more delightful - hardly had the tornado died away, than those bricks began to fall from the sky. And they fell directly on the head of the slow monster, chipping off new pieces from his armor and leaving hefty bruises.
Bruises … but we did not manage to hurt him. We caused damage to the health of the ancient creature, but its super regeneration did not leave us a chance. This task was initially doomed to failure - even a dozen terrifically pumped players would not be able to kill the creature without using the power of magic, artifacts, and spells. Here you would need something like “bloody eradication,” “nightmarish evisceration,” “internal failure,” “inner fire,” or “thousands of cuts.” We did not have these.
But the goal was not to seriously injure the enemy. Just to disable it a little. Still, this really did not work - I spent almost all of my scrolls for the purpose, used up a lot of potions, and nearly twice as many on Cray, but the monster still dragged the remains of the tower protecting him. I used the last tornado spell, and with a crash the crumbling building began to fall off one by one. All was ended in less than ten seconds. There was no dust — the blocks fell into the dirt. Soon, our eyes were exposed to the naked body of the giant monster, and I immediately understood why he was called “mildew” - the sight was disgusting. The pink swaying flesh simply flopped to the ground, since the sagging body was no longer held by the collapsed tower. The Lugr lost its corset. Pathetic …
Naked, the Lugr behaved unexpectedly. For starters, he yelled so loudly that the magic wall of the “flickering echo” burst open from the resonation, and then a wave of vibrating ultrasound struck us and knocked us into the mud — hitting us with dizziness, blindness, complete deafness and a heap of other negative effects. Life slowly crawled down - the sound literally knocked us out.
Clinging to the healing elixir, I eagerly swallowed it, not taking my eyes off of the screaming monster. He quieted soon enough, but I still did not hear anything because of the effect of deafness. I only saw his mouth shut. Then the Lugr began to behave exactly like a woman who had suddenly lost her clothes in the middle of a busy street - bashfully covering himself with one paw, the monster twirled in place, trying to collect the bricks from the ground put them on again. What shyness … at times the monster wailed again, but if there were any sounds, I still did not hear. Nor did I hear Cray, who suddenly grabbed me by the sleeve of my jacket and shook, pointing somewhere to the side. I looked.
Orbit.
His strange, jerky gait – the mammoth and the skinny elf dragged themselves to the wailing enemy, while Orbit moved his hands in extremely intricate gestures. Then he made funny gestured as he danced around the creature. Odd… or ma
ybe not? The gestures were like some kind of hieroglyphs. I did not know this language, but it looked like a lot of subtle, insulting curses. I hope he was not a relative of the slug.
The Lugr had already come to his senses, thrown away the bricks, and somehow pulled himself up and resolutely turned to the lone elf, clearly intending to punch this bald idiot into the mud. The monster jerked … and froze, beginning to watch tensely as the elf displayed various unwholesome and obscene gestures. After that, he tore off the pathetic remains of a seaweed wig with a bald head like the top of his head - it had turned out to be a wig! The Lugr raised both of his arms to the sky, and stood there for a moment, gathering the spirit and imagination, and then began to gesture to Orbit with such speed that I was afraid for the elf’s dignity.
The spectacle was implausible - two bald individuals facing each other and crouch, spin, scoop up dirt and smear it on their chests and face, clap their hands on their sides.
“I will stand up and say: “Ku-y-y-uu!” loudly,” offered Cray, who had come to his senses. “And everything will be over with.”
“You watch what happens!” I hissed. “You better not! Do not bother these insane creatures. Let them express themselves.”
“All right,” he sighed, dropping his head into the mud. “Let us fall back. By the way, Bom already stuck in the staff. About two hundred paces from us.”
“If our psycho whispering does not work, then at least the task can be completed.”
“What do you think they’re doing?”
“This is a negotiation,” I shrugged my shoulders. “They are definitely talking about something. And Orbit promises something - he has already hit himself five times in the chest and scratched his left butt three times.”
“What language!” Said Cray. “I am not going to scratch my ass ...”
“I am joking about the butt,” I snorted. “But he did just knock on his chest.”
“Dzorr!” Roared the monster — and we immediately pretended to be dead.
“R-r-rank-r-r-rank Snessa wur-prx!” The Lugr roared through the stream of sticky saliva, facing Orbit.
“R-r-rank-r-r-rank Snessa wur-prx!” Immediately confirmed our bald friend, again hitting himself in the chest.
“Now he is promising something,” said Cray.
“Yes,” I gloomily confirmed. “He is…”
I heard one familiar word. Or rather, a name. It was too early to draw any conclusions. We would have to wait.
Lugr the Cruel, however, did not want to wait - picking up his paws, he lifted his carcass up and staggered along the mountain slope, moving diagonally and to the nearest shore - the monster was clearly going to the ocean. He did not pay the slightest attention to us, and personally, I was hurt - we had spent so much time and energy battling it. He went into the giant ferns growing at the foot of the mountain, and groaned with relief, rejoicing in the vines that covered his vulnerable soft body with vegetation. The beast screamed pitifully and then fell silent.
“And now what?” I asked with a peaceful tone.
My question was quite legitimate – I did not hesitate to ask. We had gone through so much to get here.
“A trump,” Orbit smiled broadly.
“Against Snessa?”
“Hmmm?”
“I had a contract with Snessa.”
“But you did not b-break it,” Orbit spread out his hands. “You even tried to kill the Lugr ...”
“And you?”
“I am not you,” the elf smiled again — so much so that if the Cheshire cat were here, he would immediately die of envy.
“That’s for sure,” I confirmed. “You’re not me. But still…”
“You had not done anything against the t-treaty… Lugr is not a creature, you know. H-he is dead, after all.”
“We cannot regret it now,” I summed up grimly, watching the ferns and trunks of gigantic bamboo continue to sway in the distance, the monster continuing to drag himself up the mountain in a determined attempt to pierce the clouds.
“Not we. I. You are in the right before Snessa,” the elf shook his head, hugging the trunk of the approaching Kolyvan.
“She may decide otherwise. But it is too late to worry. Why do you need a monster? What trump card? Orbit, speak more clearly.”
“Not yet, Ro-o-os. I just a t-trump card lying on the g-ground. An old t-trump. Wouldn’t you p-pick it up?”
“Mhm…”
“Use is not obligatory. Even if we d-Do not need it…” Orbit frowned. “It is b-boring…”
“Understood,” I nodded. “I found a loaded shotgun on the ground and I picked it up just in case. If only to make sure that this gun will not fire at us. What did you promise to the Lugr?”
“Nothing.”
“And what about the last words of your friendly conversation?”
“He asked: “Is the fall of the gods predicted?”. And I just c-confirmed…”
“Where did he go?”
“Home,” the elf smiled again — with a clear anticipation of something int-teresting. “Ros, Snessa will not bother you. She will not attack – and n-not her brother. He loves his sister. Gods do not lie only when s-sleeping … And Roska…”
“You had become attached to Roska with your entire soul,” I sighed. “Let us go help Bom.”
“Binding attachment,” he confirmed.
“How did you know how to talk to the Lugr? The gestures, the strange words.”
“I learned,” the elf shrugged. “From the s-stacks when I was the head of the L-lost Library…”
“Wait … that’s a legend. Nobody can find this library. It is a myth of Valdira.”
“Well … then I would not be the chief librarian …”
“Right,” I said. After a little pause, I continued — “I do not know what your intervention will lead to, but … it will not be boring for sure.”
“It will be intt-eresting,” grinned the elf. “And l-loud…”
“What are you doing, there?” Bom shouted, watching as a “local” was bustling next to the stick stuck into the ground, doing something with some strange big cubes. “There’s so much buried in the mud! And I was given a crystal of a cargo teleport - a small one, but still. For the successful installation of the staff. We will sell the stained oak, grass and stones to some clan. More of a deal.”
“Sell to the S-sleepless!” Hastily advised Orbit “They have m-money…”
Chapter Nineteen.
Shu-shu-shu …
Shu-shu-shu …
Boo Boo Boo…
Shu-shu-shu …
Boo Boo Boo…
Whisperings and mutterings over the background of tropical scenery – that was how I would describe what was happening in the Ring of the World, which had risen from the ocean floor. No demonstrative clang of arms, no rumble of military boots hurrying somewhere towards a detachment. And there are no detachments - all are broken up. Everyone was smiling, and in their hands they were holding wine, or coconut milk.
You could see many differently sized holes filled with inaudible fountains in the ground. In the thickness of the foaming water one could spot the fuzzy outlines of the Achilots, floating in their native element — freely able to talk with the land races. And elves, people, gnomes and half-orcs fearlessly stepped into the fountains. Contrary to the current of the water, they slowly descend to the bottom, where, from inside the trembling water column, they could survey the bottom many meters to the sides, talk with the Achilots, and stare at the dinosaurs and giant fish scurrying at the bottom in search of prey. The “locals” were curious, too — and they could often be seen among the other players.
And even there, at the very bottom, among densely growing algae and fish schools, you could still hear it…
Shu-shu-shu …
Boo Boo Boo…
Shu-shu-shu …
Boo Boo Boo…
Whispering and muttering, whispering and muttering.
The clans laid down their weapons and shook
off the dust. There were welcoming smiles, polite hugs, good-natured pats on the shoulder and wily winks. War time was temporarily over. The era of business began, and it was no less ruthless.
In the east, they were lazily sitting on lush carpets around low tables, casually sitting on the beach with their legs lowered into the water, lying on the grass and looking into the serene sky, slowly walking along the paths and admiring the picturesque views. They were flinging flat stones into the sea and counting the number of bounces. But many others were doing business. Buying and selling, exchanging, hiring, concluding complicated and few-understandable multi-story arrangements.
Shu-shu-shu, bu-bu-bu …
Smiling, the gnome slapped the thigh of a great green creature. An agreement had been made.
Two elves were hugging each other’s shoulders. Their smiles were becoming strained. Something was not going right — you could see this with the naked eye. It had not reached confrontation, but it certainly would.
And this went on everywhere. All day long. Without rest. Even without small pauses. Transactions were concluded at such a speed, and on such a scale, that I involuntarily remembered the lively bazaar. And I felt like a real noob compared to the rest of them. If only not to accidentally feed someone else’s dragon…
But despite the endless deals, everything went smoothly. There were moments of unrest— when the platitudes heightened into a mild form of madness, and the barterers swiftly turned into flocks of mutated, insatiable piranhas tearing someone apart with excitement. And sometimes, with a squeal — they began to resemble pigs chasing each other away from their collective feeder.
Everything was like normal — some noteworthy player climbed onto a pedestal, flipped his checkered blue and yellow cloak behind his back, cleared his throat loudly, and then began to shout:
“The Queens will go no further! We sell everything! All must go!”
His cry was like a bomb exploding. At first, they all froze for a moment, and then turned and rushed to the lonely figure on the stone pedestal.
“Archs will buy everything!” A fat man yelled, jumping up. “To the last nail!”
“Sleepless take everything! Goldie is a little late. We will at least bet.”
The Way of the Clan 9 Page 3