by Eden Redd
Wynter took charge, calling upon Luke, her in game guide. A handsome man appeared, wearing a black robe and large black angel wings beating slowly behind him. He hovered a foot off the ground and gave Wynter a loving gaze.
“How can I help you Wynter?” Luke smiled.
Wynter’s fellow guild mates stepped in close with ears open. The necromancer mentally went over her line of questioning. The guild spent many nights going over the rules but Jakar wanted the team to do a final check right before the raid.
“Luke, please go over the raid information again,” Wynter smiled.
Luke nodded, “Of course. The Harkkon Dungeon is a deep level raid estimated at one hundred levels. It is classified as a high-level dungeon due to low survival rate. Once you die in the dungeon, you will resurrect back at your keep, unable to join the raid for five days. Any concubine, familiar or faithful ally who falls in the dungeon will not resurrect for ten days, excluding the necromancer class. The dungeon prevents calling any follower from the outside once entered.
“The dungeon is a PVP area below level ten. Players can hurt and even kill other players. Same rules apply, death in the dungeon will prevent you from entering for five days.”
“What are the rules concerning artifacts?”
“The Harkkon Dungeon contains several unique pieces of armor, weapons and books. You must complete the raid to keep any unique items found. Should you fail, those items will disappear from your inventory and be reassigned to another part of the dungeon. An artifact with a purple star next to it will indicate that only a Troll Master or Dragon Lord will benefit from it but the item can be kept, sold or given away at another time.”
“What’s the lowest level anyone has reached in the dungeon?” Daven asked with a playful smirk.
“Level sixty-two,” Luke said simply.
“Thank you, Luke,” Wynter smiled.
The angel nodded his head and faded from view.
Wynter turned to the group, “A ten-day resurrection is a lot, Jakar doesn’t want anyone sacrificing too much for the raid so you all can bring one follower.”
Nikki crossed her arms and nodded, “I heard that some of the levels are like a maze. I doubt I could have all my concubines with me without heavy losses.”
Daven rolled his staff over his shoulder and stuck the end into the dirt, “I’m bringing Tara and only using her in emergencies or if I have other needs,” Daven grinned.
Kai shook his head, “I’m not bringing anyone. I already pledged my allies to help defend the Middle Kingdoms. Human knights have been increasing their attacks, trying to take it back. After the raid, I’m joining them to ensure they remain under troll control.”
Wynter’s hand caressed a pouch that hung from her left hip, “I think I have enough greater soul shards for the raid. It should be enough to keep us going all weekend. Do we have enough healing potions?”
Daven nodded, “I spent the last two weeks crafting healing potions. My pouch is at the limit.” The blonde druid grinned at Wynter, “I’ll also volunteer to help make greater soul shards.”
Nikki raised an eyebrow while Kai let out a low chuckle. Wynter returned Daven’s grin and shook her head. The knight raised an eyebrow.
Wynter noticed Nikki’s questioning eyes and decided to explain, “When I weaken an enemy, I can take their soul shard. To make greater soul shards, I need to infuse my power with them.”
Daven grinned, showing all his teeth, “Wynter is being nice about it. She can summon the creature from the lesser soul shard and sex them up, turning their lesser shard into a greater one.”
“You need one hundred lesser soul shards to match the power of a greater one,” A touch of red glowed from Wynter’s cheeks, “The last few weeks I’ve been very busy.”
Wynter thought back to those power marathons, trying to push away the sting of her past. She never talked about it, and even now a small shyness reared its protective cloak. Having her private moments in the game was something she enjoyed, and the only audience she ever performed for was Leopold. Now, to share herself with other players was something she hadn’t done, or even know if she could.
“I have been a knight from day one so I’m not familiar with all the classes,” Nikki turned her attention to Wynter, “Since I joined the troll side; I’m still learning all the new class abilities.”
Daven stepped over and put an arm around Nikki’s shoulder, “Stick with the winning side, we have the best lovers and cookies!”
Nikki barked out a laugh before elbowing the druid in the ribs. Daven stumbled back, an exaggerated hurt expression painting his face. Wynter covered her mouth, hiding her smile when a troll walked over to their little group. The necromancer turned to stare up at the troll.
“I am Captain Vell. I will be escorting you to Master Kurss’s tent before the raid.”
Wynter nodded. Nikki, Daven and Kai formed up behind the necromancer, ready to follow when the captain gave them all a hard stare.
“Master Kurss only wishes to meet with the necromancer.”
The three players looked to Wynter but she simply put her hand up, “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s probably last-minute stuff before the raid. I’ll be right back. Captain, please lead the way.”
Captain Vell turned and began walking. Wynter followed but managed to glance back at her guild mates as they looked on. Daven and Nikki watched with wide eyes but Kai’s gaze narrowed. Wynter shot them a disarming smile before turning her head and following the captain.
The sounds of the surrounding camp began to dwindle as players moved to the edge, ready to enter the ruins. Horns blared again, signaling the countdown to the raid had begun.
Three
Captain Vell opened the tent flap with a single swipe of his long blue arm. Wynter bowed her head before stepping in, the flap closing behind. The inside of the tent was lavish with fine rugs, a large round bed in the middle covered in silk pillows and blankets. Ornamental lanterns hung from several support poles. Finely carved wooden chairs dotted the inside with several individuals seated. Eyes turned and lips curved into smiles. The men inside wore black, some with strange tattoos inked into their faces while others wore silver jewelry made of skulls and bones.
Wynter knew instantly that they were fellow necromancers. She counted six before her eyes wandered to the back of the oversized tent. There, four large trolls stood, arms crossed before them and blank looks in their eyes. They wore little armor and let their muscles speak to their strength. They each had to be eight feet tall and nearly that wide. It was enough to cause a single nervous shiver to run up Wynter’s spine. Thankfully her cloak covered her near naked body. Wynter stepped in further, Vell standing right behind her.
Past the large trolls, flaps were pulled aside and Master Kurss stepped through, flanked by several female and male troll lust slaves. Their master dwarfed them as he moved to a large, golden metal chair made with fine upholstery and sat down. The lust slaves quickly fell to their knees at their master’s feet, running their hands over his powerful legs.
The necromancers in the tent stood up from their chairs and stepped over. Wynter followed and stood among them. Her eyes drank in the master’s finery before she noticed a single troll standing toward the back, a hood over their head and a cloak covering their body.
“Welcome masters of the dead,” Kurss smiled.
All necromancers bowed their head, Wynter being the last when she saw everyone else was doing it. Kurss’s eyes lingered on the dark-haired human before addressing them all.
“I have called you here for a private conversation. The Ruins of Harkkon await, but there is something I must address before we begin. I am aware some of you have heard of the things that haunt the ruins. Seductive whispers with promises of power and treasure. They are the long dead, seeking to claim the living but there are some voices darker than the deepest pits.
“I must ask you all to ignore those voices during our time below. They will tempt you but you must remain strong. Th
ey seek to unravel our quest and with the war raging on, the ruins have become priority.”
Some of the necromancers bowed their head in agreement. Wynter instead looked to the master with a questioning gaze.
“Why must we ignore them?” Wynter asked simply.
Heads turned to the pale beauty but Kurss nodded and smiled.
“Excellent question, we have reports from previous raids that something down there is protecting one of the artifacts we seek. It has caused madness to those who listen too intently. I have asked you to ignore it due to the fact that its words have a greater effect on your profession.”
Kurss opened his thighs slightly. A lust slave moved up, putting her body between his muscled legs. Without a word, she undid his metal loin cup. The necromancers looked on as the master troll’s cock nearly unfurled before her. Sinking down, she took hold of his thick blue member, stroking it skillfully with her delicate hands. The other lust slaves moved in, caressing the selected slave as she put her lips to his throbbing member.
Wynter didn’t blink as she watched. She, much like everyone else had heard of the master’s tastes. He liked to show his power and would often have meetings and gatherings, being pleased as he conducted business. Gentle suckling sounds filled the majestic tent as a female slave sucked at his member lovingly.
Kurss continued, “There are forces at play here that will undermine everything we have built. Your power will allow you to know if others hear the whispers. If you feel you are being influenced, tell the trolls in your groups to help keep you sane. My soldiers have been taught a mystical chant that will aid in keeping the voices at bay.”
The slave’s head bobbed in steady long strokes. The heat in the room glowed causing Wynter to shift on her feet. The act wasn’t strange but the tingling sensations along her skin were distracting.
Kurss let out a low breath as the slave tightened her lips and grip, “Shall you do this for me? I promise to increase your reward should we succeed.”
The necromancers gathered and nodded their heads in approval. Wynter was the only one to give barely a nod.
Kurss smiled, “Good. Please be off to your parties. We will start shortly.”
The necromancers turned and headed for the exit. Wynter turned to join them when Vell stood by her and gently placed his hand out, halting her exit. The necromancer turned to Kurss, smiling. When the tent cleared out of the other necromancers, Kurss leaned back in his chair as the slave continued to bob on his thick cock.
“Your beauty was enough to give me pause, Wynter Nightkiss.”
“You honor me with flattery,” Wynter loved talking like that.
The slave pleasuring her master upped the tempo as slaves around her ran fingers along her wet pink line. Kurss lifted a hand and beckoned Wynter closer. The player took a few steps closer, glancing down as thick inches pushed past sensual lips. Lust slaves pulled off what little clothing they had and rubbed bodies against their master’s legs.
“I can sense you are very strong, for a human. I wish we could journey together if just for your company but alas, I must coordinate our way to dismal depths.”
“It would be an honor but I understand Master Kurss,” Wynter said but wasn’t sure she could deal with his alpha personality.
Kurss eyed her and nodded, “Do you believe in the cause? Do you believe we are fighting for what is right?”
Wynter bowed her head slightly, “I do. The dragon lords want to dictate how Lukken will be ruled, with no regard for other races.”
The master troll nodded, “We seek to establish a democracy while they cling to a monarch dictatorship. I may be a master but the people are the ones who rule. Their voices are what societies are built on. Even my slaves know they may leave anytime they wish.”
Wynter smiled politely. She knew the trolls and dragons held a strange belief system. The trolls do allow slaves to be free but only in the truest sense of the word. They are cast out with nothing and can never return. If they are lucky to survive, any trolls who come across them treat them like animals. Instead of choosing to stay with their masters, they chose to leave and have to live with the consequences, good or bad.
Kurss continued, “It is during these times that everyone shall be tested. I speak this to you because you seem like a kindred spirit. There are dragon spies in our midst. The repeated failures to complete the raid are due to spies and saboteurs. Even now, they are lurking in our ranks. I must ask you to be strong and report anything you see. I have warned others I can trust. I hope I can trust you.”
Wynter nodded, “I will report anything I notice.”
Kurss nodded and leaned back, the slave between his legs upping the tempo. “Before we begin our dangerous work, would you like to taste a master’s cock? I don’t simply let anyone partake but for you I would make an exception. The slaves say my seed tastes like nectar from the gods.”
Wynter felt heat rush to her cheeks. She wasn’t turned on by master’s words. Instead she was nearly embarrassed that he would ask that question. There was no judgment when it came down to players fulfilling their fantasies but this player was not into what the master was offering. Maybe it was the fresh wounds or maybe it was because she didn’t feel like kneeling to anyone at that moment.
“Thank you for the kind offer but I must save my strength for the raid,” Wynter said innocently.
Kurss eyed her for a moment before putting his head back against the throne and closing his eyes, “Very well. I look forward to our victories.”
The slave’s head bobbed with practiced rhythm. Kurss remained silent as his cock bulged. The slave moaned her approval as the master’s cock thickened. Pulling back, the slave licked the tip as molten seed burst forth. It splashed against her lips and down her wanting mouth. Moans rose up as she clamped lips at the end and suckled like a hungry animal. Several other slaves moved in, licking come as it dripped from the sides of the slave’s mouth.
Wynter took that as a sign. Turning, she stepped across the lavish tent to the entrance, Vell close behind. Once outside, she spotted her party lingering about. Turning their attention, they moved as one to Wynter’s side. Captain Vell let out a sharp whistle. Four trolls appeared from the nearby shadows, two male and two females. They were armored and armed to the teeth, standing at attention and waiting for orders.
“Everything okay?” Daven asked as he eyed the trolls.
“Everything is fine, just last-minute raid stuff. We can talk about it later but for now, let’s get to the line.”
The group nodded and followed Wynter as she led the way. Horns blared again signaling the time had come to begin.
***
Mist clung to the ruins like a white shroud. Black and gray stones rose up, silently mocking time as they stood for thousands of years. Wynter let her senses spread out and the loving caress of death sighed to her touch. The air felt heavy and a sliver of dread rolled through the front line as eyes gazed on.
Players and trolls formed a long line. With teams picked and ready, a troll gave a hand signal and it carried down the line until everyone nodded in agreement. Groups broke off, eyes wide and fingers flexing. Some trolls pointed in different directions while some players took charge, leading the way. Wynter raised a pale hand and called up a 2D map of the area. There were dozens of entryways into the dungeon. Her raid group’s entrance was marked to the west. Daven clutched his staff but kept a sardonic smile on his lips. Nikki moved with alert eyes. Kai brought up the rear, sniffing at the air every few steps. Their troll companions were to the left and right with Captain Vell walking slightly behind the necromancer.
Wynter glanced around with nervous energy. She didn’t want to be raid leader. That was Leopold’s job. She hoped Nikki would take charge but the knight didn’t make an effort. The duty seemed to fall to her and as much as she was ready to take on the raid, she doubted she could properly lead it.
The ruins grew larger the closer the group walked. Shadows shifted as something moved and slipped
away behind a corner. The tension spiked as Nikki laid a hand on the pommel of her sword and drew it just an inch. When the thing that slipped away did not return, the knight let her sword slip back into its sheath.
“Everyone stay steady. We don’t need to rush into anything just yet,” Kai said in a low deep voice.
Wynter felt a pang of relief as her guild mate said the very thing she was thinking.
“Tell that to the monsters,” Daven said with a light edge. “I heard there was a group wiped out right when they entered the ruins, just like what we’re doing now.”
“Sounds like you need to go back and hide in a tent,” Nikki grinned but kept her eyes alert.
“No way, the loot here is top notch. Besides we have Wynter here protecting us.”
Wynter turned her head and talked over her shoulder, “We need to keep it quiet. Let’s get in the dungeon first.”
“You heard her, knock it off,” Kai growled.
The group moved on, passing rune covered remnants of a city long decayed. With each passing moment, the different groups spread farther and farther apart. The safety net of numbers quickly dwindled until Wynter could feel the cold, digital reality that they were on their own. If something happened now, it would take some time for anyone to come to their rescue, if they ever came.
The player wasn’t too worried but that didn’t stop the necromancer from gripping her staff a little tighter. The thrill vibrated along tense digital muscles and the player took a calming intake of breath. Wild grass poked up from shin deep mist. Stones penetrated the white gloom like pointed gremlin heads. Shadows moved with the mist, altering perception. Wynter’s map glowed before her, a glowing dot leading to their entrance.
After long tense moments, a misshapen entrance appeared from the gloom, vines and tendrils frozen mid crawl over ancient stones. Nikki took lead, moving to the entrance and peering into the darkness. The group waited as the knight took a few steps in and down.