Ring of Promise: A LitRPG novel (Elements of Wrath Online Book 1)

by J. A. Cipriano

  That turned an undercurrent of anxiety into a wave of fear across the diplomats. The two others murmured worriedly while Kelissandra spoke over them. “We do not know for sure. It’s possible the prospect of the Ogres and Pyrlins that infest the Dominions scared off our pursuers, but it’s as likely they were in league with them. With the Flames of Conflict growing, anything is possible!”

  Kayla gave me a pointed look that said everything. Casting a sidelong look at Burndall, he was already vigorously nodding to my unseen query. As the dialogue cue came back to me, I was already mentally digging for my Ram Whistle.

  “Then, lords and ladies, we had best ride! The Mountain King has sent us to ensure your safe travel to Granholm and we cannot wait any longer.”

  Quest ‘A Diplomatic Incident’ updated!

  Updated objective: Ensure Princess Kallisandre makes it to Granholm alive!

  True to Kayla’s suspicions, as the quest updated and the world returned to its usual crispness, distant-but-growing footfalls echoed off the mountain peaks. Flickering shadows of riders backlit by flames grew to grotesque proportions off the sides of the twisting trails on the far side of the valley. I didn’t need to say anything; the situation and the solution were obvious.

  As my Ram’s Whistle materialized in my hand, Kayla was putting a delicately carved coral ocarina to her lips and Burndall was unfurling a tasseled carpet with intricate stitching on the snowy ground. With the need to minutely search for the ambassadors, we had been on foot most of our time before after Kayla had teleported us to the Dominions so I hadn’t a clue what the mounts of my companions actually were.

  My own ‘mighty steed’ was a bog-standard White-Tufted Mountain Ram picked out from the Slate Ranch nestled right there in the Dominion Mountains, and he appeared in a burst of snow and rock dust as I blew my whistle. Like every other one of his brothers and sisters, Snowy was a broad-shouldered ram the size of a Clydesdale, sharing the rocky skin of the Craggar but somehow managing to retain tufts of snow-white fur for a beard and around the hooves.

  Large, spiraling horns of pale, smooth stone extended out from Snow’s brow, and he came pre-saddled, surprisingly calm and patient for having been poofed out of the virtual ether. If I could have made due without him, I never would have shelled out the gold, but in the end, Snowy turned into a deal over time, saving enough Teleport and Sky Post fees to pay for him twice over. Though I lusted after faster and flashier mounts like everyone else, I’d be lying if I hadn’t grown fond of Mr. Slow-And-Steady.

  Kayla finished her song, her summons answered by a burst of water that started to freeze as it hit the ground. Out of that cascade walked an elegant steed, a Blue-Scaled Sea Horse, a rare Silver Saddled version that I thought dropped in the Deepward Spiral. Unlike what real life calls seahorses, the Sea Horses of Elementalis are more like riding horses with fish DNA. Instead of the short-furred hide of a normal horse, Sea Horses had scales as well as spiny fins in place of a mane. Fins sprang out of the knees and gills hid beneath sealed slits along their necks. Yes, there was and continues to be a bit of a stink on the EO forums that the Nix get an easy-to-purchase mount that was amphibious, not that there was much underwater content yet.

  True to everything I had seen from the kid, Burndall’s ‘mount’ was something odd and expensive. Very expensive. In the old days, many MMOs would let you buy flashy (and sometimes game-breaking) things from something called a ‘cash shop.’ Most modern deep-dive games circumvent that by letting you purchase in-game wealth, naturally, but EO maintained a Bazaar of the Bizarre in every capital city, with NPCs selling oddities that can only be purchased with real money. No ‘pay-to-win’ stuff, just odd mounts, pets, furnishings, and other wacky and flashy things.

  So, there was no shock when Burndall hopped atop his Animated Vizier’s Rug, one of the Bazaar’s best sellers, and snapped his fingers to wake it up. Chalk it up to K-Pat’s odd sense of humor or simply a defiance of expected norms but the rug didn’t fly. Oh no, it ran, well no, ran isn’t the right word either. It more undulated and slithered like a snake or massive worm. Honestly, watching a Vizier’s Rug was slightly disconcerting.

  Burndall seemed happy with it, though, so who was I to complain?

  The princess stepped towards Snowy as I hopped up into the saddle. “I will ride with you, Warlord.” Must have been because I was group leader but I shook my head.

  “No, princess, you should ride with Kayla.” No idea if the AI would respond but it was worth a try. “Her mount is much faster, and if we get separated, you must make it to Granholm.”

  Sure, the idea of turning aside the glory of completing the big quest by yourself might seem silly. There were plenty of players that just look to top the DPS charts or the Healing meters or whatever individual metric they wanted to point at and I guessed that was fine for them. Me, though, I thought the real measure of success was whether the group succeeded, however that was. If I was a little cog in the machine or the big wheel, I didn’t care. In this case, the best chance for the quest to get finished was to get Kallisandre on the Sea Horse.

  Burndall gave me a dubious look but Kayla caught my meaning exactly. “Yes, Your Highness, come with me,” she urged as the footfalls grew louder, joined by the clatter of metal and pants of exertion. I could literally smell the stench of blood and sweat roiling through the mountain passes.

  I think we were all a hint surprised when Kelissandra bit her lip and nodded, taking Kayla’s hand as she hopped up into the saddle. The other diplomats split up, one hopping up behind me in the saddle while the other took uneasy footing on the rug beside Burndall.

  By the time the riding arrangements had been settled, and we turned our steeds toward the pass from which we had come, the first of the bandits had rolled into the valley. He was a rider garbed in dusky gray robes trimmed in crimson, a Craggar based on the bulky build, with the glint of metal armor showing as he bounced on the back of a Scorch Boar. Reins gripped in one hand, the bandit had a sparkshooter in the other, a long brass lance with a hollow bell at the tip. A fiery glow rippled in that bell as sparkshooters were essentially elementally-powered blunderbusses, capable of shooting sprays of elementally-charged shrapnel or single, solid slugs.

  Yeah, these guys were not here to play.

  “Let’s move it!” I spurred Snowy to speed and the chase was on.

  Now, mounted combat wasn’t a common thing in EO. It wasn’t unknown precisely but being mounted greatly hindered the Gems one could use in combat. Many Spells that required intricate motions or cast times were disrupted by all the bouncing and jarring and quite a few Skills were disqualified for the same reason. There were a few gimmick boss encounters, none I had taken part in, that relied on mounted combat and movement and some kite-and-DoT folks liked to do it, but it was a very rare thing.

  Since we had to go single file through the narrow trail ahead, Kayla’s swift Sea Horse took the lead. As we channeled into that trail, I pulled back on the reins just enough to let the crawling carpet slither past. If they overtook us, I had the best chance to hold them off in a stand-up fight.

  “Hey, Burndall,” I shouted ahead as pounding hooves echoed up and down the twisting path, “you got anything you can do to slow them down? Fire Wall? Hotfoot a Boar? I’ll take spitballs at this point.”

  The kid glanced back at me. “Uh, well, I can try?” He had about as much experience as I did with mounted combat, and I could see his arms fumble with virtual controls.

  I didn’t risk a look back myself. Between the jittering fear of the diplomat clamped around my waist and the blustering snorts of what had to be multiple boar riders getting louder behind us, I knew the kid and I were losing ground.

  Kayla was pulling ahead now, and I figured she had a good chance at breaking away entirely. As I was doing my best to spur Snowy on and take an inventory of what Gems I still had functional, I could feel her giving a worried glance back at us. Most all my core combat Skills were out, including Walking Wall and Impose. Meet
the Charge was the only one still ready to go and there was no time to bother with Gem shuffling. My shout-type Skills were working, though: Entrenching Call, Defiant Display, Final Assault, and one I rarely had need of, Spur to Battle, a single-target speed boost that immediately shot to the top of my list of things we could use right now.

  I pointed at Kayla and encouraged her to “Ride hard! Get the princess to safety!” I could feel the surge as the command went off and Kayla’s Sea Horse surged with incredible speed.

  Kayla gains Boon ‘Spurred Onward’! +100% Movement Speed for 12 seconds!

  That’s when the first sparkshooter went off. There was a roar like thunder and the horrible scent of burning powder flooded the air. The poor NPC let out a horrible shriek of pain as fiery shrapnel tore through his body and Snowy bleated in distress, no doubt taking a shot in his stony flank. Some of the shards scraped off my armor and a few bits lodged in but the ambassador sadly took the brunt of the shot.

  Dark Rider A’s Sparkshooter Blast misses you!

  Dark Rider A’s Sparkshooter Blast hits Water Kingdom Ambassador B! He takes 22% Physical Damage and 17% (-1% resisted) Fire Damage! HP 61/100%

  Dark Rider A’s Sparkshooter Blast hits Snowy! He takes 242 Physical Damage and 198 (+18 vulnerability) Fire Damage! HP 560/1000

  “Hold on, buddy!” I growled to the Nix ambassador clinging to me as Burndall made a quick arcane gesture, causing a sputtering flame to shoot over Snowy. Risking a glance back, I saw the boar speeding up even more, an unholy flame burning in its eyes. As the Dark Rider rapidly worked to reload the ‘shooter, I cringed. That was the real danger, I realized. Scorch Boars didn’t start out quickly but, much like Scorchtusk himself, they moved faster and hit harder the longer they chased and fought. In time, they would overtake any of us, even Kayla.

  The rider didn’t even look up from his ‘shooter as Burndall’s little Hotfoot Spell struck the boar in the middle of the forehead and made a faint sizzle.

  Unfortunately, that was all it did. Full resist! Not a surprise, I guess. We really needed to take Burndall shopping for a real variety of Gems.

  “Sorry, dude, that’s all I got,” Burndall chagrined. Kayla was far enough ahead that she disappeared with her precious cargo down a twist in the rocky path. “I’m was going to go into high gear but … do you want me to stop and fight with you?”

  Credit the kid with one thing I hadn’t expected; he had figured me out enough to read my intentions as I gripped my banner tightly, Shale’s skill at riding taking over for my ignorance as I guided Snowy with my knees. The facts were obvious: my cheapskate investment in my beloved ram meant I wasn’t getting away. Burndall had a shot … Bazaar items tended to be pretty functional even if they weren’t overpowered … and Kayla was safe assuming the Boars were slowed down some.

  “No! Keep going! I’m gonna to do something stupid!” That was usually the last thing you wanted to hear from your tank and group leader, I freely admit, but I had a flash of insight, that would at least make my incoming horrific injuries worth it.

  “Hey, that’s my job,” Burndall said with a devil-may-care laugh. “Good luck and see you at the Life Crystal!”

  Darn it. I hated respawning but I didn’t expect anything else. As I abruptly pulled Snowy around, Kayla’s voice echoed in our ears, chiming in on group chat.

  Kayla: No ambushers! We’ll make it if you can slow them just a bit!

  Shale: I’m on it. Wish me luck or at least soothe my brow when I spawn.

  Kayla: Aye on both counts!

  Burndall stomped on a roiling ‘hump’ of his rug and the poor thing shuddered and lurched faster, leaving me well behind as I finished wheeling Snowy about. The rider took his chance and took a shot, his Sparkshooter spitting a single, glowing chunk of metal out with terrible velocity.

  The projectile slammed into the shoulder of my shield arm, barely skipping past the edge of the shield itself, and burned ferociously, taking a 5% gouge out of my already depleted Health Points. I bit down the pain and spurred Snowy into a full-on charge.

  My thinking was plain. In this tight pass, the good dozen riders that I saw past the lead boar were forced to go single-file just as we were. Likewise, they couldn’t get past me, not yet, so the obvious answer was a sacrifice play. Really, the clues were in the quest objective update.

  Before, it had been about the envoys in general. Now it was all about the princess.

  Still, if I was going to go down, I’d do some damage. After all, my Meet the Charge Gem was usable. Its damage was done based on the speed of the attacker and I was awfully curious how interactive EO’s physics engine was. I mean, it seemed simple to me; if I rushed at a charging attacker, wouldn’t that make his speed relative to me the sum of the two parts? We were about to find out.

  Neither Snowy nor the boar pulled back, the ram dutifully following my command while my opponent’s mount was too furious and stubborn to turn. The bandit was a different story, looking up from where he was hurriedly reloading his sparkshooter, a look of sudden panic wormed across his face as I pointed my standard at his chest like a lance.

  As I activated Meet the Charge, my diplomatic charge wailed with as much fear as the bandit ahead of me. I squeezed Snowy’s flanks with my knees and my trusty steed put on one last burst of speed as he lowered his horns. The tremendous crash of skulls, of horns butting and tusks goring rang out through the mountain pass as my banner plunged straight through the Dark Rider’s chest, all the weight and velocity of the charging beasts shoving it clean through his breastplate.

  Riding Boar A’s Tusk Charge hits (critical) Snowy! He takes 642 (+321 critical) Physical Damage and dies!

  Snowy’s Horn Butt hits Riding Boar A! It takes 14% Physical Damage!

  Your Meet the Charge hits Dark Rider A! He takes 102% Physical Damage and dies!

  As Snowy was cut out from under us and the rider fell back dead, his boar blinked out of existence as most MOB mounts did. The diplomat and I hit the ground roughly and sprawled in a tangle of shield, banner, and limbs.

  I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, trying to push the ambassador behind me. Sliding hooves and hot, steaming boar breath seemed to be everywhere as I grimly focused on our pursuers. The mainline of bandits had pulled up a good ten paces away from us, a wave of surprise and confusion on their faces, maybe even a bit of a look of admiration at my sheer audacity.

  “I fear, Warlord, that we are about to die,” the NPC whispered behind me. I had to give both the voice actor and the AI guiding the diplomat credit. The mixture of fear at his imminent demise, and a steely backbone of courage borne of duty sent a shiver up my spine. “But at least …”

  “Yeah, well, see you at the Life Crystal,” I muttered as the bandits’ shock turned to anger. A baker’s dozen sparkshooters raised up, all pointed at my chest and head. This was going to hurt.

  Kayla: City guards ahead! Almost there!

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I snarled as I activated Defiant Display, slamming my gore-drenched banner firmly on the ground. “Do it! You’ve already lost!”

  The bandits obliged my request as a fusillade of blazing bullets shot out, tearing through armor and flesh, pushing the NSAF pain filter to its limits as it struggled to keep the agony of death down to a brain-tearing headache.

  Dark Rider I’s Sparkshooter Shot hits you! You take 172 Physical Damage and 176 (+16 vulnerability) Fire Damage!

  You have died!

  The biggest societal problem that this … irresponsible use of NSAF technology could cause is the disconnection of fantasy from reality. The levels of immersion and neural feedback, the very things that make it such a pioneering rehabilitation tool, can lead to a blurring of lines and then complicate that with the power to alter that neural input … for a game no less! … and you wind up with a child thinking a sword through the gut is no less painful than a paper cut! It’s insanity!

  Dr. Rosemary Fontaine, CNN interview, May 7, 2218

  Look, al
l that crap about sensory dulling and fantasy-reality problems is just that, crap. Sure, they had that whole immersion problem thing early on, but we players know what life and death is like. There’s enough zap in the NSAF that I sure as heck don’t want to die in game, yet alone RL! No, the EO community knows that death is real. I only wish the Filter would make it easier for us to know when someone in it really has died, yanno?

  Thadivus, guild leader of Elementalis Reclaimed

  7

  I can’t express to you how much I hate dying in-game. Yes, the NSAF gear filters and tones down pain impulses, especially in gaming apps like EO. Trust me, I’ve been connected to fully unfiltered NSAF stuff in therapy; it is utterly realistic if they want it to be. That filter doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt horribly, even for someone like me that’s dealt with a world of pain in his life.

  The agony of a dozen fiery bullets in my body dampened the moment I flopped over bleeding in the snow, followed immediately by the wrenching sensation of my spirit tearing loose from the flesh. White light filtered over my vision as I hovered over my corpse to get the extra kick in the ribs of watching the bandits gun down the poor Nix before mounting up again to take up the chase. The throbbing sensation still permeated my non-existent form, and I wasn’t going to be able to do anything else here.

  A spirit can linger close to their body for up to thirty minutes in case you decided to wait for someone to use a Resurrection Gem to bring you back to life, but you could always release straight away. With nothing else to do and hopefully safe friends to meet back at Granholm, I closed my eyes and cut the tether from my spirit to my bullet-riddled body.

  There were days (and this was one of them) when I worried that I had a major-league martyr complex. Survivor’s guilt was a common diagnosis, alongside deep-seated guilt at not being able to do better for Chrissy. There had to be some reason I would put myself through the neural beatdown that being an EO tank brought, and because of that, I’d taken the whistling trip through the sky as an incorporeal spirit dozens of times over my career here. So many times, I preferred not to watch.