Rogue Online: The Devil's Gate: A LitRPG adventure

by E K Baxter

  Max laid a hand on his arm. “I know, but we won’t help them by charging down there and getting ourselves killed, will we? We watch and we wait.”

  Sam glared at him for a long moment and Max held his gaze. Sam was like a newb in a PVP, ready to charge off and take on anyone who crossed his path. Max remembered when he’d been like that, full of ambition and keen to prove himself. Jeez, it seemed a lifetime ago.

  Finally Sam let out a long breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll follow your lead, True Worlder.”

  “Good.”

  They settled back and waited. The guards changed several times. Max’s back began to ache but still he didn’t move. After what felt like hours they got a pretty good idea of how often the guards changed and the routes they took when they did a circuit of the walls. Finally satisfied, he and Sam ducked back behind the hillock and had a whispered conversation.

  “They do a circuit of the walls every half hour,” Max said. “They always go west first which means there are a few minutes when only one guard is on duty at the guard station in front of the gates. That’s our best chance.”

  “I like it!” Sam replied. “If we can get close enough without being spotted, we can take out those guards before the others arrive.”

  “Exactly. Remember, we’re trying not to call attention to ourselves. This is a stealth mission. We get in there quick and clean, right?”

  Sam nodded. “Right.”

  They crawled back to their vantage point and watched, waiting for the right moment. Max saw the guards on top of the wall leave to make their circuit and nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  Together he and Sam rose from their hiding place and ran down the hillock, zig-zagging across the open ground in front of the gates and using whatever cover they could find. They hurried into shadow at the base of the wall and pressed themselves flat against the stone. They slowly inched along the wall towards the guard station, Max cursing as his boots crunched in the leaf litter and other detritus at the wall’s base.

  The guard station was only a few paces ahead now. Max could hear the guards inside talking although not loud enough to make out the words. Then the door suddenly opened and one of the guards came out. He undid his breeches and began pissing against the wall.

  “I’ll take him out,” Max said, spotting an opportunity. “You take the one still inside.”

  Sam nodded and together they burst into motion. Max was upon the first guard before he even realized he was there. Max clubbed him across the back of the head with his sword hilt and the man crashed unconscious to the ground. He darted into the guardhouse to find Sam grappling with the second guard.

  Max stepped in and punched an upper-cut into the man’s chin. He staggered back and crashed to his backside on the floor. His eyes rolled, clearly dazed.

  Sam’s eyes suddenly widened. “Arnold?” he said, crouching by the man’s side. “What are you doing? Why are you wearing a guard’s uniform? You’re a blacksmith, not a soldier!”

  “You know him?” Max asked.

  Sam nodded. “What’s he doing here?” Sam heaved Arnold up by his shirt. “Traitor! You’ve betrayed us! How can you serve Lord Mespar?”

  Arnold’s eyes were a little unfocused but he smiled. “You’ll never stop him!” he sneered. “Lord Mespar is one of the Mighty Ones! He will crush you under his boot, you little worm!”

  With a snarl Sam raised his sword, ready to punch it into Arnold’s chest, but Max grabbed his arm.

  “No, don’t kill him.”

  “What?” Sam asked incredulously. “He’s the enemy!”

  “He’s not in his right mind,” Max answered. “Look at him. He’s under some malign influence.” Max had played enough games to recognize mind-control when he saw it. Nightshade had controlled many this way.

  He tightened his grip on Sam’s arm. “This man is just a villager, not a soldier. He’s not one of Lord Mespar’s men. My guess is he was captured and put under some kind of spell. Look at him. Look at him!”

  The man’s eyes were vacant as though there were no thoughts going on behind them. Sam sagged and released Arnold who slumped to the ground.

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Max nodded. Then, to his surprise, a message popped up on his UI.

  Most would have killed that man. You have shown great compassion and leadership. 250 XP to Charisma.

  “Drag the other one in here,” Max instructed. “We’ll tie them up and gag them and then steal their uniforms.”

  Ten minutes later he and Sam were sitting in the guard station having bound and gagged the two guards and hidden them behind a bush. They’d stripped them of their uniforms and donned these themselves then collected a few silver coins in loot along with a spear each with + 6 attack that Max added to his inventory. Now all they had to do was wait.

  It didn’t take long. Two guards approached. Unlike Arnold, these looked like outlanders—perhaps some of those that Lord Mespar had brought in. They had long black oiled beards which clinked with copper rings. The two guards grinned when they saw Max and Sam.

  “Look, Villnar, two more of the local scum. I have no idea why the boss bothers with them. They’re useless.” He leaned close to Sam and cried, “Boo!”

  Instinctively Sam jumped and the guard laughed, showing a row of yellowing teeth. “See? Scared of his own shadow. Run along now, children, won’t you?”

  Max saw Sam’s hand twitch towards his sword hilt and grabbed him before he could do anything stupid.

  “My thanks,” he muttered to the guard then dragged Sam from the guard station before he could say anything that would get them both killed. They passed through the open gates and pushed them shut behind them.

  Quest: sneak into Myrlind completed.

  x1 Level Up! Level: 5

  You have earned one stat point to be distributed as you choose.

  You may allocate your stat points at any time. Any unallocated stat points will be lost in the event of death.

  Keep on leveling!

  Max added his point into Wisdom which went to level 4. Not too shabby for a newb. Once this was done, Max looked around. The streets of the city were wide and paved with pale flagstones. Buildings marched away in neat rows and a few people were walking around, going about their day. To Max’s eyes it all looked very clean and ordered. A little too clean. A little too ordered. There was none of the usual hustle and bustle of city life, no conversation, no sound of playing children, no barking of dogs or neighing of horses.

  “Come on,” he said to Sam. “Act like you belong here.”

  “I do belong here,” Sam muttered, looking around with a dark expression on his face. “This is my home.”

  “Not anymore,” Max replied, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and turning him to face him. “Right now you’re one of Lord Mespar’s mercenaries. Got it?”

  Sam nodded. “Fine. Although I don’t like it.” His eyes roved over the street, taking in the people who walked by. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with them?”

  Max watched a young woman. A bucket dangled from one hand although it was empty. Her expression was slack, her eyes glassy and unfocused. The way she walked seemed strange too, all jerky and erratic as though she wasn’t in control of her limbs. A shiver walked down Max’s spine.

  “I don’t know,” he said to Sam. “That’s what we’re here to find out. Let’s go.”

  They started off down the street, swaggering confidently as though they really were Lord Mespar’s men. They moved slowly towards the center of the city, Sam guiding the way. Everywhere they went the people bore the same glassy expressions and walked with the same strange gait. Only Lord Mespar’s men seemed unaffected. They were easily distinguished from the rest as they all wore those oiled beards with copper rings in them.

  “Let me go! May the gods curse you! Let me go!”

  The shout was so unexpected in the otherwise silent city that Max jumped. They rounded a corner to see five of Lord Mespa
r’s men dragging a man between them. He struggled in their grip, shouting curses and dire threats. One of the men stepped forward and clubbed the man over the back of the head with the hilt of a sword. The man sagged, head hanging, and was unceremoniously dragged into a large gray building. The door thudded shut behind them.

  “What was that all about?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know but I think we should find out.”

  They crept up to the building and peered through the grimy windows. Inside was a large room, empty but for a small desk and a single chair. Inside Max could see Lord Mespar’s men laying into their captive, kicking and punching.

  Despite his earlier admonishments to Sam to remain inconspicuous, rage bubbled inside Max at the sight. All of those times he’d been targeted on the streets because of his small size came flooding back. All the times he’d been forced to defend himself against thugs just like these came bubbling to the surface. Sure, this was only a game, but that guy was being laid into by a mob. Five against one was hardly fair odds. Time for Max to even things up a bit.

  He hurled himself against the door, battering it with his shoulder until it crashed inwards, spilling him into the room, an astonished Sam a step behind. A quick glance showed that the guards were all level 5. Max equipped his newly acquired spear and charged at them.

  He and Sam had the element of surprise and Max managed to stab the spear deep into one man’s thigh before he had time to draw his weapon. The man bellowed, aimed a savage punch at Max which he dodged, then Max landed a kick into the man’s chest. As he staggered away Max ripped the spear from the man’s leg and punched it through his chest.

  Something connected with the back of Max’s legs and he crashed to the floor. The edges of his vision went red and his health decreased by 10%.

  He rolled to the side just as a war hammer came crashing down, then equipped his ax and cleaved it through the arm of the man with the hammer. Blood sprayed into his face, the iron stench filling his nostrils, and the man screamed in pain. Before he had time to recover, Max swung the ax a second time, taking the man’s head off. It flew across the room and landed on the floor with a thud.

  Sam was battling with another man over in the corner, the two of them trading blows so close that neither could bring their weapons to bear. Max took a step towards them but spun as he heard heavy footsteps behind.

  “I’ll gut you, you little weasel,” a man growled. His eyes were wide, battle-crazed, as he charged at Max, a sword clasped in a two-handed grip. Max managed to duck under the first swing but the man crashed into him, his momentum enough to send them both clattering to the floor. Max grunted as a fist landed in his stomach then brought his knee up reflexively, hearing a sharp intake of breath as it connected with something soft.

  The man’s hands reached for Max’s neck, his grip hard and cold. Max tried to twist away but couldn’t dislodge his attacker. As the man’s hands fixed around his throat and began to squeeze Max’s health bar started to deplete alarmingly rapidly.

  He flung out a hand and managed to grab the man’s hair. He yanked, pulling the man’s head back but still he wouldn’t let go. Max’s health bar was down to 25%, the red edges of his vision growing. In desperation, he equipped his woodsman’s knife and with his free hand used the last of his strength to ram the knife under the man’s chin, driving it hard upwards into his brain.

  The man’s grip slackened and Max shoved him off, rolling away and retching, trying desperately to get a breath.

  After a moment of gasping and spluttering, he climbed to his feet and looked around. The floor was littered with dead men, all with staring, sightless eyes. Max drew in ragged gasps and his pulse gradually normalized. So this is what melee fighting felt like. It had been a long time since he’d fought this way. Normally he hung back, supporting his raid squad with magic. But, he had to admit, there was a certain thrill to getting in the thick of things.

  He turned his attention to the prisoner. The man was lying on the floor curled into the fetal position. His skin was pale and clammy and Max noticed a pool of blood slowly spreading out around him. Max laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “No! Please don’t take me!” the man wailed. “I don’t want to serve him!”

  Max and Sam shared a long look. The man seemed utterly terrified.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Max said. “I need to take a look at your wound. I give you my word you won’t be harmed.”

  The man looked at Max, his eyes a little crazed. Then they slowly focused. “You don’t look like the others,” the man whispered. “You don’t look like Mespar’s minions.”

  “We don’t work for Lord Mespar,” Sam said. “We’re here to free Myrlind. Can you help us?”

  The man passed a shaking hand over his face. Beneath him, the puddle of blood continued to spread.

  “Here,” Max said. “Let me take a look at your injury.”

  The man tensed for a moment but then lay back, allowing Max to get a good look at him. The hilt of a knife was sticking out of the man’s belly.

  Sam sucked in a breath, his eyes darting to Max’s. Max cursed under his breath. He was no healer—he’d never really paid much attention to the healing arts—and neither was Sam. It would take a healer of the highest level with a range of strong spells at their disposal to fix this.

  “I’m sorry,” Max whispered.

  “Don’t be,” the man replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Because of your intervention my soul cannot be taken by the dark ones. I go now instead to meet my ancestors.”

  “Listen,” Sam said, leaning over the man. “Is there anything you can tell us about what’s going on in Myrlind? Who are these men who walk the streets? Where is Lord Mespar? Why are the townspeople acting so strangely?”

  “Lord Mespar brought those men here months ago,” the man replied. “They aren’t like normal men. They never seem to sleep or need food. And he’s been doing things to the townsfolk. They get rounded up, taken up to the palace. When they come out again they aren’t the same. Their will is gone.”

  Max frowned. “But you’re not like them. Why did the guards bring you in here?”

  “Because I’m part of the resistance,” the man replied. “They were going to do to me what they’ve done to so many townsfolk. If they had and I’d become mindless like the others I’d have told them everything I know of the resistance.”

  Sam stepped forward, eyes alight with excitement. “You’re with the resistance?”

  “Yes,” the man replied. “We fight Lord Mespar’s men wherever we find them. We’ve avoided the brain-washing of the other townsfolk by hiding when Mespar’s men come for us. We disrupt his supply lines. We spy and gather information. We’re trying to find out what he’s up to. What his interest in this ‘Devil’s Gate’ might be.” He smiled wryly. “It seems I’m not a very good spy.”

  Max leaned close. “What have you discovered?” he asked. “What information did you gather?”

  The man’s eyes fluttered. “You must find Arlena, the leader of the resistance,” he whispered. “She can tell you more.”

  His eyes closed and he let out a long low gurgle as his life left him.

  Max slowly stood. A message popped up on his UI.

  You have been offered the quest: find rebel leader. Do you accept? Y/N

  Arlena, leader of Myrlind’s resistance, has disappeared. Foul play is suspected. Without her the resistance is floundering and Lord Mespar’s evil grip on the city strengthens daily. Use all your ingenuity to solve the clues to discover her fate.

  He accepted the quest.

  As before, the bodies of the mercenaries didn’t disappear so Max quickly looked around for any loot they might have dropped. Sam might claim they never respawned but Max wasn’t keen to put that to the test. He found a decent pair of boots and a pair of bracers for his arms that would make firing a bow easier. He passed over the armor, giving it to Sam instead. Max wanted to remain light and maneuverable whereas Sam with his stren
gth and his shield could make much better use of the armor anyway. Sam found a purse full of gold coins which he tossed to Max. Max added it to his inventory. They now had money enough to buy some better weapons and some potions. And boy did Max need them. His health bar was dangerously low.

  He spotted something poking out from beneath one of the dead guards. Stooping, he yanked it out and realized it was a small leather-bound book. Max’s pulse quickened at the sight of it. He knew a spell book when he saw one. Almost reverently, he opened it and turned the brittle pages.

  Stealth. Effect: This will render you invisible to all. Cost: 100 mana Cooldown: 10 seconds.

  Secondary ability: Find. Whilst Stealth is cast, this will enable you to find what is hidden and see the true nature of reality. Cost: +10 mana

  Level required: Novice of the magic arts

  He ground his teeth in frustration. Finally, he’d found a spell book but he didn’t have the XP to use it! Despite putting his stat points into Wisdom this still only sat at level 4. Jeez, he’d forgotten how god-damned annoying being a newb was.

  It’s a start, he told himself. The only way is up!

  Sam straightened from his examination of one of the guards. “They look like ordinary men to me. Why are they serving Lord Mespar? What’s he promised them?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Max replied. “Maybe Arlena can tell us more.”

  “The rebel leader? If what this guy said is true, she’ll be well hidden. How are we going to find her with Mespar’s men crawling all over the city?”

  “We’ll find a way,” Max replied. “But we have more pressing matters to see to first.”

  “Such as?”

  Max hefted his bag of gold and grinned at Sam. “We, my friend, are going shopping.”

  Chapter 5

  As they stepped outside a chill wind was howling through the streets, sending Max’s hair swirling around his head and goose bumps up his arms. He shook his head. How the hell did this feel so real?