by Domino Finn
"Ugh!" she screamed. She whirled at me savagely but angrily.
Another crossblock stopped her cold. I followed it up with a deadshot combo that hit her square in the gut. Jackie pitched to the ground.
Izzy was still in the thick of it. Colt wasn't dead yet, but she hadn't been able to finish him off with Chico and Perry pressing her. The highwayman's blade was quick and ruthless, stealing cuts past the defense of the winter staff. Izzy likely didn't want to use its legendary power because of all the friendly-fire damage it would inflict in the chaotic ruckus.
She used the icy head of the staff to knock Colt in the jaw. Chico came in behind her and attacked.
Backstab!
Critical Hit!
[Chico] dealt 77 damage to [Izzy]
"Heartless bastards!" screamed Errol, galloping by with a bandit's axe and burying it into Colt's head. The pirate turned and dismounted. Perry the NPC came at him. Errol went to work with his rapier.
Chico, on the other hand, hadn't moved. Savoring his kill, his brow furrowed as he attempted to withdraw his dagger. He heaved over and over, but it was stuck in Izzy's body. The pixie frosted over into a block of ice, and his eyes widened.
"How's this for a backstab?" quipped Izzy, her real body offset from her icy double. She plunged the frost wand into Chico's spine. Blood exploded from his mouth. His lifeless body fell.
Grimwart had downed two men and wounded another, but a sword was embedded clear through his breastplate. He limped over and buckled to his knees beside his leader. The cleric was the center of a circle of the dead and dying, robbers and knights alike. The overwhelming numbers had taken their toll. Despite Errol and Izzy and I being mostly well off, the imposing crusaders had taken the brunt of the ambush. Four valiant men in armor lay still. The remaining bandits moved in with their weapons.
Cleric Vagram cackled. He was at full health again, still on his hands and knees. Gripped tightly in one palm was the bronze cross.
"Save us, my lord," he said, and white light exploded from his body.
During the distraction, Jackie scrambled to her feet. She attempted to steal her lance from the ground but I knocked it away. She turned to Chico and Colt and her face flared with anger.
"Kill them all!" she commanded her people.
Vagram heaved the sword from Grimwart's armor and helped the colonel to his feet. The knight with the red sash stood and picked his sword from the floor, as did his three comrades. The bandits flushed with fear as every crusader returned to full health.
"There will be no mercy today," uttered Cleric Vagram.
No longer able to rely on numbers or surprise, the bandits fought halfheartedly. One tried to escape to his horse and was cut down climbing into the saddle. Jackie drew a sword and attempted one last blow at the cleric himself. He raised a palm and the metal clanged against his circle of protection.
Grimwart, sturdy and strong, used a mighty two-handed swing to lop her head off her shoulders.
And with that, the bandits were dead.
I took in the scene silently for a good beat, ensuring we were safe. After that I ran to Izzy. As a mystic class, she only had 148 health to my 261. Surrounded and in the thick of it, she was hurting.
"Come on," I urged. "Vagram can help."
She grabbed my wrist tightly and stood firm. "I don't need anything from that scumbag." She pulled a health flask from her pack and downed it. The advanced potion made her good as new in seconds.
"How are we?" asked Grimwart, surveying the wounded.
I was still in awe of Vagram's power. "...Everyone's surprisingly great," I murmured.
Grimwart's black helmet turned to Errol. "You didn't turn tail and flee," he said, also surprised.
"Aye, and what's it to ye?"
The colonel considered him a moment. "Maybe we'll make a soldier of you yet."
Errol searched Colt's body and Izzy knelt beside Chico. My balance of silver incremented as the spoils were split among the party. I made my way to Jackie as the crusaders checked the rest of the bodies.
Loot:
37 silver
[Traveling Cape]
[Journeyman Sword]
[Health Vial]
"Garbage," I muttered.
"Same," chimed in Izzy. "They really were a bunch of broke thieves."
The loot hadn't been their only possessions, of course. When players in Haven die, they randomly drop a small portion of their equipment. Sometimes that means the goods, but usually player hauls are unimpressive. It's a way of helping residents keep what they've built up while also providing a very real risk of losing something valuable.
"Good work on this filthy animal," called out the knight with the red sash. He was examining the ogre carcass at the wagon. "Now I understand why the bishop wanted you along. You really are the famed pagan killer they say you are."
Crusader Reputation +50
I didn't answer. My eyes trailed to the sack of goblin heads. Beside them, Jackie's head gawked emptily at the sky.
"I don't get it," I muttered. "Why was the ogre working with humans? Why had they been killing goblins?"
"Heathens," Vagram cut in. "All of them. You can't make sense of their kind."
I frowned as the troop loaded up. We'd been stopped for too long already. Although we'd experienced a clear victory on the battlefield, the war in my mind wasn't so easily sorted.
0710 Borderlands
Not an hour had passed before we encountered another trio of drifters. The new group ogled our force and passed without event, but it set us on edge anyway. Errol angled his horse around.
"We need to be gettin' off the road from here on out."
"I think not," said Vagram. Crusader helmets turned to him. "This road leads straight to Shorehome. If we press hard we can reach the city by midnight."
"Aye, and what then?" countered the pirate. "Nightfall is no advantage 'gainst the goblins' darkvision. This road be a dangerous one. We've already encountered bandits once. The nearer we get t' Shorehome, the more likely the danger."
The cleric's scowl was evident. "Shorehome always was a den of villainy."
"That's me home you be slanderin'," growled Errol.
Grimwart cantered up. "What would you have us do, pirate?"
The Scar of the Six Seas left a lingering glare on the cleric before answering. He held out his arm along our path. "This road leads northeast, aye. A straight shot t' the city. The main road will be heavily guarded." He swiveled his arm straight north. "We need t' go off-road, t' the coast, an' approach the city from the crags. Lots o' smuggling routes thataways. Trust me."
"Sounds like a greater chance of being ambushed by pirates, to me," commented Vagram.
"Fear not the flagships, cleric. Directly northward lies the Salt Sea." My ears perked. "Shorehome rests in its shadow, protected by the natural breakwater. The Salt Sea itself is too shallow fer nary a galleon, but me brothers have hidden a skiff in the crags 'tween the break an' the city."
Grimwart cocked his head. "You wish to sneak into a city of pirates on a smuggling ship?"
"Has a ring to it, does it not?"
Vagram snorted.
"I don't know," I cut in. "I think we should hear him out."
Everyone turned to me, making it clear I was an unwelcome intrusion to the planning committee.
"I'm just saying, anything we do here on out is dangerous, right? We're sneaking into a city occupied by the enemy. There's no safe way to do that. Besides, stop me if I'm wrong, but Errol's our guide, isn't he?"
Vagram stared blankly. If we weren't entertaining suggestions from the pirate then what was he here for?
"It's decided then." I turned Bandit northward and broke off the path. "We go to that Salt Sea place."
After a tense moment, Errol guffawed and followed. The crusaders shared terse words but galloped after us. I, meanwhile, reopened my quest menu.
Dethrone the Wild King
Quest Type: Fetch
Reward: Unknown<
br />
To destroy the crown of the wild king, you must plunge it into the Salt Sea.
The sky darkened over the next few hours. As we pressed on, torches from Shorehome glowed in the distance. The second of Haven's player cities was directly east of us. It was difficult to make out in the night. Its walls weren't monolithic like Stronghold's and darkvision didn't extend to the horizon.
Although Shorehome was on the coast, we were currently landlocked, needing to follow the shoreline further up to the Salt Sea. It was still a long way to go.
"We won't make the city before daybreak," said the knight with the red sash.
"We don't intend to," answered Errol. "We can smuggle in under the sun just as easily as under the moon. Might as well camp here fer the night."
I sensed some disagreement among the crusaders, but everybody was tired from two straight days of travel and battle. Fatigue won out and everybody dismounted.
"We should be safe enough here for a fire," said Grimwart. He turned to the pirate who nodded in confirmation. The crusaders dug a pit in the ground to sit the fire low so it would be less visible from a distance. It was a neat trick.
Izzy and I sat close, breaking out our rations. Vagram pitched his tent and disappeared inside without small talk. One by one the crusaders settled around us. They even took their helmets off. "It's a drafty night, it is," said a nondescript knight. The crusaders grunted in agreement.
The colonel nodded and sat as well. I'd never seen Grimwart's face before. He was a stolid man with a dark mustache. White streaks at his temples lined black hair. I passed him some meat. He nodded in thanks. "Why don't you join us as well?" he called out to the pirate.
Errol was sitting against a gnarled tree on the edge of camp. Surprised by the gesture, he shrugged but repositioned himself by the fire. For a time we all ate in awkward silence, but it took only one mention of the bandits before the group was laughing and sharing war stories. I smiled and wondered if we should invite Vagram to the campfire as well, but I dared not approach his creepy tent light show.
"Were you here?" asked the knight with the red sash. "When the city fell?"
Errol grew solemn and pulled from a bottle of barley wine. "I was."
"And the city watch?"
"Shorehome has no city watch. It's not a great fortress like the famed Oakengard. It doesn't have the mighty walls o' Stronghold. Shorehome is a merchant village o' fisherman an' sea folk."
The knight frowned. "So there was no resistance then."
"Very little indeed. Even the saints were powerless."
"That is why," pointed out Grimwart, "we must fight in their stead."
Errol scoffed dismissively. "If it pleases ye."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked another crusader.
"I speak plainly enough."
I chuckled.
"Ye have something to say then, too?" challenged Errol.
I shook my head absently. "No. It's just... you're strange for an NPC. You seem more like a player."
His scarred eyebrow arched. "An' why is that?"
"I guess because you're out here. You're not standing next to a thing saying the same thing repeatedly."
"Who does that?" he asked gruffly.
"It's a drafty night, it is," said the same knight. The crusaders grunted in agreement.
Errol and I studied the band of adventurers dumbly.
"Bah, what do ye expect o' soldiers?"
I shrugged. "It seems like they're content with a purpose."
"Aye, and what's yers then? The famed hero o' Stronghold, sittin' pretty in his tower makin' mead."
My face paled. "That was you Kyle saw in the grotto."
The pirate tossed his empty bottle behind him. "Colludin' with saints an' priests. What are ye doin' here, hero?"
Izzy had been quiet thus far, but she muttered, "I've been wondering the same thing."
"Aye, the lass who cares fer naught. What o' you, Talon? Because me eyes spy a man who cares only fer himself."
"Ironic words from a pirate," I said. "You need to turn that lens on yourself."
"I care fer me people," he insisted.
I chortled. "You keep using the word care. It's a funny word. You fought well today, but you were two shakes away from abandoning Izzy and the crusaders before I jumped back in the fray."
He sneered and faced the fire. "No offense, but none of ya are me people."
The knight with the red sash threw his food scraps to the floor and stood. "I've lost my appetite." Another crusader grumbled in agreement and left the fire. When Grimwart stood, it was a signal for the others to go. They took up bedrolls on the perimeter as the colonel glared at Errol.
"Fighting fiercely and fighting well are two separate things. I should've known you couldn't stray from your pirate roots."
Errol was undeterred. "Ye fight fer the saints, sir, and ye do it well. Have ya ever asked yerself if they would fight fer ye?"
Grimwart scowled and stomped away. Not to be outdone, Errol skipped to his feet and dramatically turned in the other direction.
"You really care so much about your people?" I called after him. He paused. "What was so important that you left them behind?"
He clenched his jaw, his back to me, and said, "Fetchin' help." Then he returned to his gnarled tree.
I sighed and pondered the state of things for a moment. Everything was a tangled mess. "What do you think?" I asked Izzy.
She shook her head lightly. "I'd rather not." She curled up and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. Just when I thought she wouldn't say any more, she did. "If it were up to me I'd abandon this non-quest, go straight to the Salt Sea in the morning, destroy the crown of the wild king, and return to the safety of Dragonperch. If you're so desperate to offer your help, at least find someone who wants it."
I worked my jaw but didn't offer up excuses for where we found ourselves. I hadn't asked her to come, after all. I knew how Izzy felt about societal concepts like community. I knew there were times she wanted nothing more than to grind levels all alone, always seeking validation in numerical form. Seeking fame more than friendship.
Except we'd achieved those things already. Our party had the only level 9s in Haven. Slaying Orik had given us a lead that would take weeks for most to overcome. And instead of celebrating, I had to wonder what it was all for.
"This is kind of funny," I started, voice nostalgic. "In high school I used to always go to this pizza place, grab a slice and a Coke, and play Golden Axe. Sitting by this campfire in the middle of the night reminds me of those intermission scenes."
Izzy looked up at me strangely. "What in the ever-loving crap are you going on about?"
"You know: At night the pixies would sneak into camp and steal your potions. You had to kick them around a bit to keep them in line."
Izzy's glare shot daggers at me. "Well, you touch this pixie—boot or otherwise—and you won't have enough potions to heal your stomped ass."
I stifled a laugh. "Sorry, thought you'd see the humor in that. I keep forgetting you're not a gamer."
I tried to think of other worlds that might be more up her alley. Lord of the Rings, Dragonlance, Game of Thrones—it was surreal to think we were living in a similar fantasy world. I couldn't come up with any famous pixies, though. For a while I got stuck wondering if Tinkerbell was a pixie or a fairy. By the time I decided it didn't matter, Izzy had been resting quietly for a while. I sighed. What a wild trip this was.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been propped there, or if I'd fallen asleep or not. All I knew was I suddenly couldn't sit there anymore. I stood and stretched my aching back. Why the hell did simulations need to be this realistic?
I stepped away from the fire and wandered toward the invisible northerly coast. The humid ocean air washed over me like a warm, refreshing bath. To the distant east, the lights of Shorehome dimmed. I could almost hear the music and merriment from the city. Could almost hear the break of the waves against the crags. We were so close yet
somehow still in the middle of nowhere.
I produced the stag skull from my inventory. It was an ominous crown of bone with blackened soot highlighting its cracks. The antlers splayed wide to either side with multiple pointed extrusions.
What did the wild king care for? Music and merriment as well? A land for his people? Did that condemn him as a guilty man? For a savage, he sure didn't seem to rule by fear. His people had staked out the Blackwood, territory nobody else wanted. Compared to the pagans, the wildkins were saints.
I chuckled and checked the camp. Better not say that part out loud lest I be accused of sacrilege.
Amid the resting forms of our men casually strolled a hulking brute. Straps of black leather swayed in the gentle wind. Then Hood's axe cleaved the knight with the red sash in two.
0720 Mortal Kombat
"Ambush!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The camp was a blur of activity. Everyone flipped to their feet, weapons ready. Shadowy forms encircled us. Grimwart boldly strode toward the intruder and held his bastard sword high. The warden swung his axe. Grimwart spun and knocked the weapon aside. Hood answered with a backhanded slap with his free hand. The general's helmet spun around and he stumbled backward.
The hooded brute lifted his axe, both warden and executioner.
Spears of ice lanced his breastplate. They burst into chunks, failing to pierce the mystical armor but knocking him back nonetheless. A crusader pulled the stunned colonel away and another took his place before the intruder.
Vagram stomped out of his tent, golden cross sparkling on his white tunic. "The warden of the Blackwood," he spat.
Glowing white eyes narrowed.
Then six of his shadowy thralls flooded our ranks.
"Izzy, watch your back!" I yelled.
She spun as a hooded wildkin with a mace closed in. A swipe of the winter staff created a spike of ice that jutted from the ground right under her attacker's foot. He tripped face first. Izzy hopped over and stabbed the base of his neck with the frost wand in her off hand.