by G. Akella
"No doubt," Masyanya interjected suddenly. "We'll even bring ours over for a play date—for you to regale them with stories of your heroism. And teach them physics."
"Oh, he'll teach them, all right," Alyona chortled, diffusing whatever tension remained in the air. "And not just physics..."
Bonbon looked around the faces of his friends sitting around the bonfire, and gave a bashful smile.
"The gods will flee in terror once we're done with them, mark my words. Now if only I could get to my wife, then..." he wavered for a moment. "We need our family back together. We even have a house to move into once this is all over..."
"Max," Teetotaler broke the silence that fell on the gathering. "Could I have a word?"
"Sure," the warrior touched Alyona's arm, then rose and followed the Blades' commander.
Having walked about twenty yards from the camp, the mage turned around and locked his eyes with Max's.
"What is the matter? Something is gnawing at you, I can see it."
"I don't know..." Max touched the earring hanging from his earlobe, and shook his head. "I've had a bad feeling since morning. I haven't felt this way even yesterday, before those spiders attacked us..."
"That sucks," slipping a rollie between his lips, Teetotaler lit up, took a deed drag, and gazed up at the moon ascending the night sky. "We can handle mobs around level 200, even up to 220, assuming they don't overrun us with sheer numbers. But even a small squad of NPCs might prove troublesome." The mage paused, contemplating something, then nodded at the four huge boulders next to which the party had pitched camp. "Are there any even platforms up there?"
"Three of them appear to be. Each probably thirty yards across," Max gazed up, then back at Teetotaler. "What are you thinking?"
"Attention, everyone!" Teetotaler barked loudly into the main channel. "Lay down hedgehogs around the perimeter of the camp. Nixon and his squad takes the first quarter, three o'clock, and the rest pick up theirs in equal intervals, clockwise. The sentries keep behind the hedgehogs; mages and archers will all sleep on top of the boulders, and keep potions close at hand. I'll check up on y'all in half an hour. Everyone got that?" Upon waiting for his officers to confirm, the mage turned his attention back to Max. "Which of your guys are on watch duty tonight?"
"Rexar is on first shift, and then me," said Max, motioning at the nearest boulder. "Do you want us up there?"
"In case of an attack, our ranged dps will be safe from harm for a while, and should dispense plenty of damage," said Teetotaler. "I don't put too much faith in those barbs, but we have them, so why not use them?"
"Makes sense," Max nodded, thanking Vagabond in his mind yet again for the gift of his men and their very capable commander.
"One more thing," the mage opened the map, then stuck a finger at the narrow gap between the mountains, where the party was due to travel tomorrow. "The ruins of some stronghold have appeared on the map. There was a time when this passage was under somebody's control." The Blades' commander took one last drag, flicked the butt to the ground, and put it out with his heel. Then he looked up at the warrior.
"Max, I sincerely hope that the night will pass by without incident. But if it gets really bad, this is where we'll retreat. If we still have anyone capable of retreating, that is."
Max sighed and looked at his companions, gathered around the campfire.
Their last bind point was in Syruan. Upon exiting the castle, they had agreed that were any one of them to die, they would wait for the rest in the Wild Wood, since losing twenty percent of levels would only make them a burden on the rest of the party. And besides, how would they find the main squad without a direct portal, seeing as one's friends only appeared on the map within a five mile radius, and communication in the same channel was limited to a one mile radius? Traversing these lands below a certain level threshold would be suicidal even for a rogue with stealth, never mind any other class.
Thus far they had been taking every possible precaution to stay safe. The scouts were given aggro-reducing buffs to keep them from being attacked by higher-level hostile mobs. The Blades would release their elk at night—unattended mounts were too vulnerable a target, and you must always have your riding animal close at hand for a successful retreat. They had been able to rebuff an attack of two dozen level 200 stone spiders without any issues, and yet... He so badly didn't want to lose anyone. Max looked toward his people once more, and sighed. Death was reversible here. Even Tasha, after her panther marriage to Luffy, had been able to bind to a resurrection stone, thus giving her parents unspeakable joy. Still, losing people would result in a colossal loss of time, and time was a resource that—in Max's mind, at least—was dwindling rapidly.
"Very well," he nodded to Teetotaler. "I'll station my rangers on the boulders as well—we haven't gotten used to fighting in cat form yet. And if things do get hairy, you're in charge. As it stands, a stinking pile of horse dung would make a better military commander than me."
"It's a deal," the mage smiled. "And I do appreciate your use of imagery—it's very effective. I'm inclined to reuse it at the earliest convenience."
The camp wouldn't retire to sleep until the sky grew totally dark. The Blades had set out hastily assembled constructs—bundles of three sharpened wooden stakes. The mages then set their magic traps around the stakes, while Max's men helped the archers get up on the boulders with ropes—capable though they were, rangers lacked the mages' ability to easily jump up to a surface twelve feet in the air. The preparations took about an hour in all. Most importantly, not a single Blade had expressed doubt or derision over Max's premonitions—at least not out loud. Indeed, any premonition of the Gray Cat, marked by three goddesses and one of the Netherworld's Seven Lords, was no laughing matter, and ignoring it would be the height of stupidity.
Night fell on the wastes unexpectedly, as it often does in the southern latitudes. Clusters of bright silver stars poured out onto the sky, and the moon assumed its rightful role as the night's mistress. Upon exchanging a few words with Rexar who was starting his shift, Max shifted into a cat and made for the foot of the far right boulder to sleep. A red-coated cat was already waiting for him. Alyona had refused point-blank to get up on the top of the boulder, reasoning that the party may have need of healers down below, and Max hadn't been able to scrounge up any arguments to persuade her otherwise. At least she can always leap up if she needs to, he thought, muzzling his lady as she stretched out on the dry grass, and lay down next to her. Sleeping in cat form was much more comfortable in the absence of a real bed. More importantly, an animal's sleep was much lighter, which was why his entire ten had shifted into animal form before turning in. The problem was, their combat prowess in animal form was still sorely lacking. His own offensive skills, for instance, were centered around biting, which was as tough as one might imagine when facing a battle-ready opponent always shifting their position, and wearing armor besides. Breaking your fangs on metal wasn't his idea of a good time, so in those situations he was limited to fighting with his paws, using the standard warrior's abilities. But that, alas, didn't inflict additional damage. Cats were natural killers: sneak up on a foe, pounce and topple him to the ground, and that's the end of it. But if that's not the end of it, and the encounter morphs into a drawn-out battle, the feline attacker would find himself at a severe disadvantage with little choice but to shift back into a dark elf. Interestingly, upon their initiation and acquisition of cat form, his companions were all bestowed different skills. Primordial Roar, for instance, was only given to melee fighters: Helliona, Donut and Bonbon, but not Tasha for whatever reason. Max couldn't quite remember the names of skills that the others got—the elves themselves were still struggling to find the optimal use for their newly acquired talents, and meddling in that process surely wouldn't be helpful. Besides, he was busy enough trying to master his own skills...
The gray lion looked at his lady sleeping next to him, drew a heavy sigh, and laid his head on his forepaws. Nights in these lan
ds smelled of warm rocks, dry grass and rotten seaweed, the stench of the latter wafting in from the marshes to the south. Somewhere in the distance nocturnal predators roared, scavengers shrieked, and a thin strip of mist sailed their way from the south, wrapping around clusters of rocks. Sleep just wouldn't come, and his sense of dread was neither increasing nor receding, so Max decided to shift his thoughts to something good. Like children, for instance... I wonder how many lion cubs are born to a lioness at a time? he mused to himself, recalling last night's campfire discussion, and looked once more at his sleeping beloved. No fewer than two and no more than five—at least that was what some TV show about lions had claimed. Five would be a real blessing! So much love would instantly enter this world... Their world—his and Alyona's. The lion closed his eyes, and tried picturing sheep jumping over a fence. The tried-and-true trick had an altogether different effect now—suddenly he felt hungry. As he struggled to chase away the visual of roast lamb, one of the traps went off. The channel erupted with alarmed voices, which subsided just as quickly—some kind of animal had set off the trap. Already up on his feet, Max lay back down on the ground, soothing an agitated Alyona back to sleep. This time, slumber came unexpectedly.
He awoke as he always did—to his own inner alarm clock. He didn't need to check the time—it was ten minutes to five. This mysterious yet highly useful ability had appeared in him upon receiving his cat form, and only worked while he was a cat. The gray lion shook the dew off his coat in a familiar motion, gave a long stretch, digging deep furrows in the ground with his claws, and yawned sweetly, like a proper cat. Then, licking the muzzle of his woman as she half-opened her eyes, he slipped like a shadow toward the sentries, hearing her satisfied purring at his back.
"Rexar?" he called the scout in the party channel, stopping at the makeshift enclosure raised by the Blades.
"All clear, commander," the other answered at once.
"Good. Get some rest while I patrol the area," said Max, nodding to another sentry that appeared on his right—a comely fair-haired huntress named Tenderessa.
"Is Nixon sleeping?" Max asked her in the channel.
"Aye, his shift just ended," the girl replied. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added:
"Max, is it all right if I pet you? No, I don't mean it like that!" She quickly clarified in response to his bemused gaze. "You see, I had a cat in that other world—Fluffy. He was my closest friend, in fact..." The huntress averted her eyes, her expression pained, then looked back to Max. "I wanted a pet cat here as well, but where would I find one? And you guys are so cool and pretty, I can hardly contain myself from stroking your fur, but... Whoa!!!" Tenderessa jumped to the side, her bow drawn, but lowered it at once when the source of her alarm became apparent: an enormous spotted cat who had landed softly next to them.
"Woof!" Rexar cried into the channel, then scowled mischievously at the frightened girl, gave a wink and finally turned to Max.
"So, I'm off to sleep, commander?"
"Go," the warrior nodded, barely holding back laughter himself.
"If I start stuttering, you two will be stuck paying my medical bills!" Tenderessa groused, putting her bow away as the ranger slipped away into the darkness. "Why would you scare me like that?"
"Listen, about 'petting' one of us," Max changed the subject. "When we get to our destination, we'll take a day to rest."
"And?"
"Pour Bonbon a few tankards of beer, and you can pet him all you like, I promise. Hell, for five tankards he'll purr for you and cough up a hairball..."
"Oh, you," the young woman frowned, then couldn't help but smile. "A grown man, and still with your jokes..."
"What jokes?" Max protested, trying to keep his tone serious. Casting another gaze at the camp sleeping behind him, he gave the girl another wink and easily jumped the barbed enclosure. Once on the other side, he went around the visible traps, then activated stealth and began circling the perimeter of the camp in a wide arc.
Dawn was nearing. The stars had already faded, and the moon now clasped at the distant mountain peaks in total solitude. Shrouding the entire terrain was a gray mist, thick and fluffy like cotton candy, with tops of gray boulders sticking out here and there. Cursing the terrible visibility, Max took his time patrolling the roughly quarter-mile-long perimeter around the camp. Finding no apparent danger, he decided to increase the patrolling radius. After rounding a dozen or so boulders wrapped in mist, he reached a point of elevation over the road leading to the camp, and froze. Moving up the road toward their camp was a group of riders. Max counted about a hundred horsemen, though referring to those mounts as horses would be the very definition of a stretch. Covered in matte scales, with Doberman-like muzzles and eyes glowing a dark purpuric color, the mounts carrying the scouts of the Darkaan Empire—as the letters above the riders' heads clearly designated—made for an eerie and menacing sight in the morning twilight. As for the riders, they looked no less impressive than their mounts. Clad in a mix of chain and plate armor, with short spears at their backs, they moved toward the sleeping players' camp soundlessly, yet swiftly and inexorably. They moved like death itself. Whatever doubts Max might have held as to where the agents of the dark gods were headed, they were quickly dispelled. Trotting just ahead of the squad's commander—a level 250 mini boss with the unpronounceable name Tijuaourr—were five ghastly creatures covered in patches of bristly fur, their simian muzzles low to the ground and sniffing. The beasts were clearly following the elves' tracks...
"Alarm!" Max bellowed into the channel, swiping away the head of a four-legged ape that had appeared out of nowhere, then dodging a spear that followed a second later. "A century of mounted troops! Level 200! From the west!" The purple eyes of a canine mount flashed before him, and Max pounced on the creature, knocking it down, along with its rider. "They move in silence and detect stealth. Must be some kind of magic..."
Four arrows plunged into his side, followed by a dagger courtesy of the Darkaanese scout he'd knocked down, making the warrior gasp with pain. Another rider emerged from the mist, hurling a web at Max that glimmered in the darkness. This was a different kind of pain. Shifting form to shake off the paralytic spell, the warrior rolled sideways to avoid a pouncing simian, downed a health potion, then shifted back to cat form and made for the roused camp, taking huge bounds. Coming from behind him was the roaring of their Doberman mounts and the unintelligible serpent-like hissing of the Darkaanese troops, incensed to see their quarry slip away.
"Max! Are you all right?" Teetotaler's alarmed voice sounded in a private channel.
"All good! Skedaddling," he reported, smirking. "Be there in about a minute, coming from the west. Watch so you don't kill me by accident."
"No promises!" quipped the Blades' commander.
He wasn't pursued. Chasing a cat in the mist along rocky terrain was a surefire way to break your mount's legs, horse or not. Listening to the officers barking orders in the main channel, Max reached the camp in about a minute and a half. Once there, he hopped over the barbs, shifted into elf form, waved to Teetotaler, then skirted around the melee fighters as they fell into formation in preparation of the coming battle. He was looking for Alyona, and gave the most tender of smiles when he found her. Now this was a woman dreams were made of. No screaming, no fits of hysteria—she simply caught his eyes, smiled in return, and gave an understanding nod.
"Everyone buffed and loaded on potions?!" Teetotaler roared in the main channel. "If so, get ready! The cats do what they've practiced! Arches and mages, fire when ready! And God forbid any one of you big-eared bastards stick an arrow in my backside..."
There were chuckles in the channel—the commander's simple joke instantly lifted all the tension hanging thick in the air.
"Don't you have to grow a backside first?" came the jovial quip. It was Myrrha—a ranger from Viper's ten. "As it stands, it's kind of hard to see, let alone hit. Besides, it would be more pleasant for us women to look at..."
"Pipe dow
n," the mage turned around with a chuckle, and shook a fist at the girl. "Get ready! And never forget that everyone here has more than one life!"
There were sounds coming now from the west—throaty, hissing cries. The Darkaanese weren't bothering with stealth any longer. "They're here!" yelled one of the Blades. Summoned by Masyanya, Mopsy gave a terrible roar, and the next second their camp was attacked.
Max didn't know whether the attackers' commander was an experienced warrior, but only that this was the NPCs' first encounter with players, meaning they weren't aware of the defenders' ability to communicate over a distance. This must be why the century's commander had decided to attack now; despite Max spotting the aggressors, he didn't expect that the sentry could alert the sleeping and unprepared camp in time. And cutting down a bunch of sleepy foes was such a sweet dish...
The traps laid around the camp went off with a bang and a vibrant display of color matching their element. Pained cries of wounded Darkaanese troops went up over the wastes just as the wall of plate-clad cavalry ran full speed into the "barbs" solicitously laid out for such uninvited guests.
Max hadn't seen anything like this outside of movies. The impaled mounts thrashed, bleeding heavily, as pandemonium fell upon them and their riders from the sky: flourishes of fiery and icy arrows, flashes of light and boulders of ice and stone.
"Archers! Focus fire on their ranged dps! Aja, grab the big bastard!"
Teetotaler's orders flew by somewhere on the fringes of Max's consciousness. Charging one of the Darkaanese bearing down on Bonbon, the warrior knocked the stunned foe to the ground with a kick of his steel-tipped boot, and dispatched the target to the land of eternal hunt in two quick swings of the sword. He hadn't noticed before, back there on the road, that the Darkaan Empire's warriors were essentially upright reptiles, or rather humanoids with reptilian mugs. There was a hissing at his right as the dead soldier's Doberman regained its footing, only to be cut down with an Ice Spear. He felt a flash of pain at his side as a couple of arrows hit him from behind the enclosure, following by Masyanya cussing loudly in their party channel.