The Survivors Part 1: The Masacre

by Brian McGoldrick

  *They're bitching up a real storm, aren't they?* Wihtred has superior smirk guaranteed to antagonize plastered on his lips.

  *Give it a rest! We want to get them behind us, not fragment the raid force.* Danleib's words are delivered in the tone of a parent disciplining an unruly child.

  Wihtred's smirk disappears, and if he's running true to form, the target of his ire should be Danleib, instead of the guild leaders.

  *Now, we need to get them focused on defending against the orcs, but later, I want to know what the hell you all have been keeping secret.* Connor has not forgotten that we've been keeping him in the dark on what we know, just like the civvies.

  “Well, what do you want to do?” Connor's bland tone from before is replaced with a much sharper edged one now.

  Bastion makes eye contact with a half-dozen or so of the other guild leaders, before nodding imperceptibly. As he looks at us, he can't hide the fear in his eyes. “If you don't submit to the will of the people and work for the greater good of everyone, we'll see to it that everyone drives you out.”

  “Fuck this shit! These are our Dvergar! They're heroes! What they fuck are you idiots thinking?” Kamehameha, who has been silently standing amidst the other guild leaders, pushes his way to the front.

  Dark Guardian's expression is filled with nothing but contempt, as he turns toward Kamehameha. “Look, kid. We're talking about adult things here. Just shush up and let us resolve it. You're too young to understand what's really going on here. We'll make sure the orcs don't hurt you and your friends.”

  “Fuck you, asshole! Stupid old man. You suck at being a warrior. If I had my hands tied behind my back and was hopping on one leg, you couldn't beat me. Who'd listen to a loser like you?”

  “Punk, where do you get off insulting Dark? You're probably still a virgin.”

  “That little shit will be a virgin forever. The only way a faggot like him will ever get laid is a mercy fuck.”

  “Fuck you, cunts! You've already got wrinkles! Better get some Botox, bitches! Who would want to fuck old women like you?”

  “ENOUGH!” Using a variation on a force weapon buff, I turn my shout into a physical assault.

  “What the fuck is wrong with everyone? We have an orc horde out there, and you want to play one-up games. Do you want to die? Have you already given up and are just waiting for the axe to fall?”

  Suddenly, none of the opposing guild leaders will meet my eyes. They start looking down, or away, or to the sides of me. That's the reason for this bullshit. They have already given up and are arguing because they're afraid of what is coming.

  An air of defeatism settles on the staging platform. Looking down at the people behind the wall, I only see more of the same expressions of hopelessness. I can't keep from sighing.

  *They're already given up. They don't even have the balls for a last stand.* Ahlred's contempt comes across clearly in our party channel.

  *I'm not very good at motivating people who have already given up. How do we get them to man up?* I've never been a leader of anything more than guilds or production teams in my days in the working world, and I've never had to deal with people who had completely given up any and all hope.

  *Man up? I see more than a few slitches, and half the men are no better than slitches. They're probably a bunch of faggots, pumping away in each others' assholes in dark corners where no one can see them.* Ahlred is in a real mood. They did one hell of a job of sending him off the deep end. It could take days for him to calm down.

  *Let me deal with it. I have a few ploys that might get them motivated.* Danleib sounds a bit uncertain.

  *No. I'll do it.* Connor's rigid expression makes his face look like it's carved out of stone.

  “So, are you all just going to give up and let the orcs kill you? Do you think that's all that will happen? Do you think the orcs will let off that easily? If you really think that's the case, you had best slit your own throats here and now. If you don't stand, fight and escape, you're going to be nothing but slaves to the orcs.” Connor pauses and stares at the guild leaders who aren't looking at him anymore than they looked at me.

  After more than a minute of silence, Connor points toward the orcs and their construction. He has no delusions about what the orcs are planning. “Look out there. Look at those orcs. What do you think they're getting ready for?”

  When no one responds after several moments, Connor sneers. “Those orcs already have some of us, a lot of us, probably thousands. Those people have really become the Damned, like most of them call themselves. Since we killed some of the orcs' best fighters, they're going to have a little party. They're going torture, rape, mutilate, and kill some of our people. If you just give up, you're going to join them in a day or three. If you're lucky, you'll die from their abuse. If you're unlucky, you'll live on as a slave.

  “So, what do you want to do? Are you going to give up and die, or are you going to fight for a chance at life?”

  None of them say anything for close to a minute.

  “What's wrong with you losers? You talk like you're bad-asses, but you're just a bunch of fucking cowards. Hey, ragged old sluts, you're wrong about me being a virgin, and I'm gonna fight with these guys here. I'm more of a man than that faggot Dark Guardian that you're hanging onto. Hey, Dark Guardian, you like them saggy middle age tits? You should try groping some young tit. They're way better than your ragged bitches.”

  Kamehameha struts over next to Pancho and holds out his fist. “Hey, bro. I seen you around, even if we've never talked. I'm Kamehameha, like in Dragonball. Let's fuck them orcs up.”

  Pancho laughs and raps knuckles. “Pancho, as in Pancho Villa, the hero of Mexican Revolution. Least you got some balls, ese. If we die, make sure all your wounds are in the front.”

  “You old men all worry about the dying. I ain't dying. I'm kicking orc ass and getting the fuck outta here.”

  Connor stares coldly at the rest of the guild leaders. “One of the youngest among you is ready to stand with us. What about the rest of you? What about your guild mates?”

  Moving to the inside edge of the staging platform, Connor looks out over the players. Most of them are gathered together in small groups, with an entire guild clustered together being the largest grouping.

  Connor uses Power to enhance his voice. “Everyone, listen up!”

  While the players gather, Connor waits a couple minutes. “Saying we're in a dangerous situation is an understatement. We have hundreds of thousands of orcs ready to kill us and no good escape route. If we don't fight, we're going to be dead or enslaved. Being dead would be by far the less painful option. Just because the situation is bad, it does not mean that it is hopeless. If we work together as one force, we can survive. We need put aside the divisions of guild, the differences of the past. We need to fight like our lives depend on it.

  “I'm not going to promise that everyone will survive. You all would know that I was lying if I did. In truth, none of us may survive, and if we don't come together and fight as one army, that will be a certainty.

  “For hope! For a chance! For survival! For a future! WHO IS WITH ME?”

  Kamehameha draws his sword and holds it over his head, pointing at the sky. “I'm with you, OLD MAN!”

  “Punk!” Pancho words are only audible to those of us close to him, as he laughs.

  We seven Dvergar all step forward, lining up on either side of Connor.

  After a few seconds, two of the mercenary leaders move forward.

  “I'll fight with you!”

  “It's a good day to kill orcs!”

  Slowly, the players begin to step forward, pledging to fight. They're still obviously scared. It is entirely too likely they'll die, and they know it.

  Ahlred turns around and glares at the guild leaders. “Your people are ready to fight. What about you? Are you going to fight? Or are you going to go hide in some dark hole like faggots?”

  Bastion frowns and seem to think things over. “I'll fight wit
h you. I won't contest your leadership. For now.”

  One by one, the other guild leaders acknowledge their compliance, until only Dark Guardian is left. He is using a party channel to talk with Forever and Eternity. While smiling coquettishly, Forever takes his hand and slips it back inside her halter top.

  Kamehameha gets an angry look on his face. “Don't worry, loser. We don't need you. Your people are fucking competent anyway. Just hide in a corner and play with those saggy tits.”

  Clank! Clank!

  As Forever opens her mouth, Ahlred moves forward. “Get the fuck off the wall, slitches. Take this gutless sack of shit with you.”

  With near terror making their face comical to look at, the three from Silver Horn practically fall all over themselves in their rush to get off the wall.

  Ahlred turns to Connor. “What now, Colonel?”

  Looking at the guild leaders, Connor briefly makes eye contact with each of them. “The far side is just as steep and forbidding a climb as this one, but that doesn't mean the orcs won't climb it. Also just because it's extremely unlikely that the orcs will have flight magic, it doesn't mean that they absolutely can't have it. I know some of those with levitation and flight magic, but you all should know better than I who those people are. We need to get them spread out across that ridge as scouts. If the orcs try to scale that ridge, we need to know as early as possible and deal with it.”

  The guild leaders nod, and a number of them begin using whisper charms and guild bracelets to contact people.

  “We can't get out of this by running away. The orcs will just hunt us down and kill us. We need to make a stand here and survive until we can escape. Getting back inside the Labyrinth would be the best option, but any means of completely eluding the orcs will be good. Danleib, can you scout out the Labyrinth and see if there are any doors other than the causeway door?”

  Danleib nods. “I noticed one the other day, but it was too high to be usable. It didn't appear to be open either. That thing is monstrous; it could take me days to find a viable entry.”

  “That's fine. Just be as quick as you can about it.” While his eyes scan the more or less bowl shaped valley opening out inland from the strand, Connor grabs the hilt of sheathed sword with his left hand and strokes the pommel stone with his thumb. It's a nervous tic he has when he's planning.

  Connor looks at the sea. “The problem will be the water side.”

  Ahlred laughs nastily. “That's no problem. Orcs and water don't mix. They are almost as bad as Dvergar at swimming. You can't swim when you sink to the bottom like a rock.”

  Connor smiles faintly. “I've never fought orc where bodies of water came into play. At least, that makes things a little easier. Dacbold, you know about defensive fortifications, right?”

  Without saying anything, Dacbold meets Connors' eyes.

  Connor points toward the spur of mostly rock extending out into the sea. “Since orcs can't swim worth a damn, do you think you can make something useful out of that with the help of the geomancers?”

  For several minutes, Dacbold silently observes the spur. When he speaks, his voice is an almost sub-sonic rumble. “It'll take at least a day and a half to make something really viable. The more time you can give me, the more the orcs are going to hate assaulting it.”

  Connor nods a slow thoughtful motion. “We'll do our best, but it's going to be hard to hold this wall more than a few days.”

  As he follows Dacbold, Farnulf has a faint smile. “You better stay focused on setting up a functional defense, before you get fancy with traps.”

  “Why don't you go tie a couple sticks together and kneel in front of them.”

  As the two leave, everyone on the staging platforms pretends that they don't hear anything. If they start bickering, it's better to just ignore them.

  * * * * *

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The thunderously oppressive sound of the drum rolling over the wall is enough to make most of the players on sentry duty cringe nervously. It began before sunset and continues to reverberate through the dark and cloudy night.

  Lurid firelight from the huge bonfires has turned the shingle into a scene from hell. At the very least, hundreds, probably more like thousands, of orcs are wildly dancing on stone and coarse sand. Their brutal clashing with one another makes the most violent mosh pit ever look like a nursery school class. Enraged from the clashes with one another, orcs are engaged in fistfights, wrestling matches, and knockdown, drag out brawls.

  Clearly illuminated by a half-circle of torches, the Black Orc is sitting on a throne. That throne looks like it was carved from a single block of obsidian and must weigh several tons. It's hard to believe the orcs would cart it around with them. We haven't found signs of bitches or brats, so this has to be a war party, but who or what are they going to war with in this area?

  Once our scouts reached the top of the ridge, they saw tens of thousands of orcs moving through the valley on the far side. They're already cutting us off like we expected. Our only chance to escape will be if Danleib can find a way back into the Labyrinth.

  *Do you think these idiots realize what's going happen?* Ahlred is looking at the players standing watch on the wall.

  Most of the players are in eating or resting in camps in the bowl valley behind the wall, with only a hundred or so sentries on the top of the wall. They're all nervous at the very least, and some seem to be on the verge of outright terror. They can tell the difference between these orcs and what they're used to fighting.

  *Probably not. When the orcs get the real party going, some of them are probably going to freak.*

  A nasty smirk twists Ahlred's lips. It's been a long time since I've seen him showing his hatred of civilians like this.

  After another hour or so, the orcs begin dragging out some of the captured players. They're all naked with crude collars on their necks. Despite the crudity of the collars, there is not question as to their purpose. They're meant to cut off the prisoners' ability to use Power. Without any Power, those players are helpless to resist the orcs. They may be prisoners, but if they survive the night, they will be nothing more than slaves to the orcs.

  The prisoners are grabbed by orcs and thrown to the ground or over rocks. Screams, pleas, and shrieks punctuate the orcs' rapes of the prisoners. After a few minutes, the screams die out as the victims are abused by orc after orc, sometimes two or more orcs at a time, as every available hole is filled with orc dick. It doesn't matter if the victim is female or male; the orcs are equal opportunity rapists.

  *Tomas.* I use my whisper charm, not wanting the rest of the guild to hear me.

  *What's up, Thorrin?*

  *Don't let anyone come to the wall.*

  There are a few moments without anything from Tomas. *What's happening over there?*

  *You don't want to know. This is going to be ugly, probably uglier than anything you've seen since the start of The Great Fuck Over.*

  There is another short pause. *I get the feeling you've seen stuff this ugly.*

  *Don't ask.*

  *Alright, I'll keep everyone away. What do I do when Nessa gets a wild hair up her ass?*

  *Sit on her. Tie her up. Knock her out. Whatever. Just don't let her come here.*

  Drawn by the screams, the top of the wall is being packed with more and more players. Even though the screaming has already died out, they still want to know what caused it. Only a few of them manage to take in the scene without any apparent reaction. Most of them can't keep the fear, disgust, or both off of their faces. Some are vomiting over the wall. Too many of them are shivering where they stand, and some are forcing their way through the press of the crowd behind them, trying to run away.

  When Nessa tries to call me with her whisper charm, I block her attempt.

  Then, there are the really twisted fucks, both males and females. They have their hands inside their clothing or armor while playing with themselves. Here and there, there are couples tearing off each other's
clothes and fucking while they watch the show. Luckily, there aren't too many of them.

  *The more I see of people, the more I want to puke.*

  I don't respond to Wihtred's comment, but I can't help but feel the same.

  Ahlred snorts. *That orc's not dumb. Except for the really twisted fucks, his little show is doing more to unman our faggots than an all-out assault would.*

  I'm not sure who I hate more the orcs or these sick bastards that are jerking off or fucking while being sexually aroused by the sexual assault of people that they've known for years. With the orcs, this is just the way their race is. I have no idea why they are like this, but it seems the be their very nature. With the players, I don't know how of why they could be so fucked up. Sure, Earth is a shit hole, but that doesn't justify descending to the level of creatures like orcs. They're human. They should be better than orcs.

  The orcs start tying some of the prisoners to the crude timber frames. They seem to have been chosen at random, but their struggles were more energetic than the ones sprawled limply on the ground or rocks while being raped. There are ten frames, and each one has a prisoner bound to it.

  At the Black Orc's orders, orc light torches from the bonfires and approach the bound prisoners. Seeing the orcs coming, the prisoners scream and shriek, begging for mercy. Those pleas turn into shrieks and howls of agony as the orcs begin running the torches along their limbs time again.

  The players on the wall begin to flee. Even most of the twisted shits that were fucking while watching the gang rapes have stopped fooling around. One after another they flee the wall and run off to who knows where, until only the sickest bastards, the sentries, Connor, and we Dvergar are left. There is no bullshit banter. No comments or stupid jokes. The rest of the Dvergar who were working on the fortification of the spur of land silently join us. None of us like all that many of the players. Given a choice, we wouldn't associate with most of them, but they're still human. As the torture drags on for over two hours, we silent bear witness. While we look on in impotent rage, the last of the prisoners dies.