Awaken Online: Precipice

by Travis Bagwell

The prisoner frowned slightly before replying, “I’m not certain. Maybe a hundred or so. The Masters number approximately twenty-five at a guess.”

  “So around 125 enemies,” Frank announced in an exasperated tone. “How the hell are we going to do this?”

  Riley approached the group, having calmed down a bit. She spared another glare at Bert, who flinched back involuntarily under her gaze, before turning to Jason and Frank. Her dark eyes had taken on a thoughtful look. “Maybe we could release the slaves and increase the size of our army. How many slaves are there?” she asked, addressing her question to Bert.

  “Maybe fifty,” he replied. “We captured townsfolk from a few nearby towns. The werewolves have had to roam farther lately to find new slaves. The masters go through them quickly, and the wolves don’t always do a great job of bringing the people back,” he said dryly.

  Jason shook his head. “The slaves are likely all low levels, and they’re unarmed. They aren’t going to put up much resistance. At best, they would be a good distraction, and then I could resurrect them afterward.”

  Riley didn’t seem entirely happy with that point. “I guess you would have to convert them either way,” she finally conceded. “They aren’t going to be pleased with you, though.”

  Jason looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s the least of our problems at the moment.”

  Frank interjected before Jason and Riley started bickering, “The real question is how to take out the mages. We can always fight the regular soldiers using the natural chokepoints in the dungeon. The ramps leading into the city and this throne room might be good areas, but the masters might be more difficult.”

  “I suppose so…” Jason said, trailing off. He thought for a moment, leaning against the stone wall next to the cell and drumming his fingers on the stone. “Do the masters maintain a regular schedule? Do they all go to sleep around the same time every night?” Jason finally asked Bert.

  “Around the same time each evening, yes,” Bert replied. “The other cultists usually cook an evening meal around this time of day and then most go down for eight hours or so. I had to listen to Greg bitch about how we’re having soup again on the way up here…” He looked at Greg’s corpse with a small smile on his face. “Guess he’ll be missing dinner now.”

  We need to weaken the mages and the cultists before we attack. Assassination is going to be hard since we don’t know the terrain and there are bound to be people awake and moving around. How are we going to do this?

  Jason thought back to his previous battles. He had been successful in the past by taking advantage of the terrain and the resources in the environment. He never approached a fight as a head-on conflict. Not if he could help it anyway. So maybe the question was what did he have available to him. It seemed like a relatively short list. Was there anything in the maze that could help?

  It’s just a bunch of empty hallways and some traps. Wait…

  “Hmm, he has that look again,” Frank said in a dry tone, motioning to Jason.

  Riley sighed. “I know. I almost don’t want to ask.”

  Jason looked at them in mock shock. “What? My ideas always work out well. You two should learn to trust me.” This earned him an eye roll from Riley and a soft snort from Frank.

  The group stepped away from Bert toward the center of the room as Jason outlined his plan. He would leave Bert in the cell for now. They might need him later for more information. Worst case scenario, they could let Riley kill him after they were finished in the city. For now, they needed to move quickly. They only had a small window while the cultists were sitting down to eat dinner, and Jason could sense the seconds ticking by on the dungeon respawn timer.

  Roughly thirty minutes later, a wagon trundled down the well-worn streets of the ancient underground city to the sound of creaking wood and the hiss of the banded metal wheels against the stone street. The bed of the wagon was empty save for a bleached white container about the size of a melon. Two black-robed cultists sat in the front of the wagon bickering softly.

  “Why did I have to wear the robe drenched in blood?” Frank muttered.

  “Because I called dibs. You should have spoken up sooner.” Jason replied with a soft chuckle. “Besides, you should be careful about complaining too much. You saw what happened to Greg…”

  Frank glared at him in response, which was difficult to see under the large hood of the robes. They had left Riley to prepare the next part of the plan, and Jason realized it was the first time that he had been alone with Frank in a long time. Jason turned to his friend, a frown curling his lips. “There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began tentatively. “I’m not sure how to ask this tactfully, so I’ll just say it. What happened with the fight against the Minotaur King?”

  Frank was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I lost it, man. It was obvious that you and Riley couldn’t distract the King. It was up to me…”

  He hesitated. “This game hasn’t been all sunshine and unicorn farts for me. I-I was scared of combat.” Frank hung his head and looked away from Jason. “I had to rely on others to level. Hell, I’ve just been following you and Riley around since we started this dungeon.

  “During the fight, I just stood there. Useless. Again. Not only that, but we were going to lose that fight because I couldn’t get my shit together. I started getting angry - mostly at myself. The strange part was that the angrier I got, the less afraid I became. Finally, I just snapped.”

  I didn’t realize the game was so rough for him. This explained Frank’s odd behavior. Looking back on it, his friend had always been a bit timid, even in school. It was part of what had drawn the pair together in the first place; two rejects in a school full of arrogant rich kids.

  Frank eyed Jason out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t tell you this, but I’ve been saving most of my stat points since I wasn’t certain about what class I would pick. During that fight, I dumped everything into Strength and Vitality. Between that and removing my armor, I was able to move much faster. I’ve noticed that Strength doesn’t add to speed as much as Dexterity, but there’s still a small increase.”

  Jason nodded. Now that Frank pointed it out, Jason noticed his friend was starting to look pretty ripped in-game. He had observed the same thing after the fight with the Minotaur King. He assumed that the change in stats must alter a player’s in-game appearance. That was consistent with what the Old Man had explained the first day he had logged into the game. Jason hadn’t been given an option to alter his character’s appearance and he vaguely recalled a cryptic explanation about how his character would evolve as he continued playing.

  “Well, you certainly kicked some ass.” Jason grinned, impressed and appreciative of Frank’s growth. “You looked like some kind of berserker. It was like watching a barbarian from one of the other games we’ve played,” Jason added, respect in his voice.

  Frank tilted his head. “It’s funny you should say that. I also gained two new abilities. One is called Rage. It basically gives me a boost to strength and speed at a constant Stamina cost. The other was Bull Rush. It’s like a charging attack.”

  He’s turning in a melee damage-dealer.

  “Well, with Riley’s healing ability. You guys would make a good combo. Add in my crazy plans, and we’re basically unstoppable,” Jason said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  Frank looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess the three of us do make a decent team…” he trailed off, lost in thought. Then he glanced at Jason from the corner of his eyes. “What about you?” Frank questioned.

  “What do you mean?” Jason asked, confusion in his voice.

  “Oh, don’t give me that,” Frank replied. “You know exactly what I mean. Riley might not watch the news channels for the game, but I saw the footage Vermillion Live ran last night and this morning. You are all over the news.”

  Jason winced. “I did what I had to. Someone framed me. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say
it again, war will return to the Twilight Throne. It’s only a matter of time. The best I can do is delay the inevitable until we get stronger.”

  “Oh. Yeah - sure. Explain to me again how threatening a whole city bought us time?” Frank asked in a skeptical voice.

  “I’m hoping Grey Keep will destroy itself,” Jason replied, his knuckles white as he clutched the reigns tightly. “That’s the best result we can hope for right now.”

  Frank shook his head. “Your plans might be crazy, but there’s a certain method to your madness.” He hesitated before continuing. “Did you see the official response from the CPSC to your videos?”

  Jason looked at his friend in surprise. “No, I didn’t. They made an official statement?”

  “They’ve put you on some kind of watchlist. They’ve had so many complaints filed against you that they probably had no choice. You haven’t broken any rules, mind you, but the threat is there. Those game masters are going power mad. We better not cross one.”

  No kidding. He had seen the videos of the destruction in other parts of the game world. I guess I just added one more potential enemy to the list. Fantastic.

  The pair stopped talking as they caught sight of several of the black-robed figures ahead of them. Bert had suggested that they take the main boulevard back to the cultist camp. He had explained that the city was designed so that a single main road ran through the center of the cavern. It terminated in a large courtyard on the northern part of the city. From this courtyard, two major streets then ran to the northwest and northeast, creating a Y-shaped central road system.

  Jason could see the large courtyard ahead. A fire was roaring in the center of the square, and the cultists had set up long wooden tables around the area. Several black-robed figures wove between the tables, and small groups sat on crude benches. The cultists had apparently turned this area into some sort of medieval cafeteria.

  Jason pulled the wagon to the side of the road and looped the reigns around a nearby column. Frank dismounted and moved to the back of the wagon, lifting the white urn from the bed of the cart.

  “It looks like we made it before dinner,” Jason whispered.

  Frank nodded. “Lucky us,” he replied. The pair started walking forward. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Frank said. “What the hell is this thing?” He shook the white urn gently and put his ear up to the container.

  “Don’t!” Jason hissed, putting his hand on Frank’s arm.

  Jason glanced nervously at the container. Before journeying into the city, Jason had gone back to one of the acid traps they had passed earlier in the dungeon. His hope was that he could use the caustic substance as a poison. There had been plenty of extra acid left in the trap mechanism, but the problem was how to carry it. It ate through both flesh and bone at an alarming rate.

  After some experimenting, Jason had been able to create a container from Greg’s skull using his Custom Skeleton spell. That still hadn’t been enough. Since the substance was so corrosive, he had to reinforce the interior of the container with dark mana. This was only a temporary fix and Jason could see that the health of his “minion urn” was slowly deteriorating.

  I really hope that the soup they’re fixing will be enough to dilute this stuff. This plan won’t work if the first cultist to try the soup melts his own face off.

  “It’s poison. An extremely volatile poison,” Jason answered bluntly in response to Frank’s question and his friend’s eyes widened. He looked down at the urn and slowly edged it away from his face. “We’re going to dump this stuff in the soup and then hightail it out of here. I’m just hoping they don’t notice us through the disguises.”

  “That’s your plan?” Frank asked in a harsh whisper.

  “Hey, I didn’t say it was brilliant. If we can weaken the cultists, we’ll have a better chance of winning this next fight,” Jason retorted.

  Frank grumbled under his breath as they approached the campfire. Jason heard his name mentioned a couple times with a few choice expletives. Ignoring Frank’s muttering, Jason carefully watched the cultists around the courtyard. Several black-robed figures were setting up the area for the evening meal, and a pair of cultists hovered around the campfire. An enormous iron stewpot was suspended over the flames, and a tantalizing smell drifted through the courtyard.

  “I’m going to distract the men near the campfire,” Jason whispered. “You dump that stuff into the pot. Make sure you stir it a couple times.”

  Jason couldn’t see his friend’s face clearly, but he assumed he was glaring at him right now. He didn’t have time to consider Frank’s complaints, however. Jason had a job to do. He approached the cooks and spoke loudly, “Hey! Where’s the food? We just got back from feeding those damn cows, and we’re starving!”

  The cultists milling around the tables all looked toward Jason. One of the men near the cauldron spoke up in an irritated voice, “Are your eyes not working? Do you see anyone else eating? No? It’s because it’s not done yet.”

  Jason saw that Frank was edging his way toward the big cauldron behind the cultist that had addressed Jason. He needed to buy some more time. His thoughts flashed back to the nearly starved villagers he had seen in Peccavi. Would the cultists really have better access to food? He decided to gamble again.

  Jason snorted before replying, “Don’t give me that! I know it’s finished. I bet you guys are just stockpiling the food for yourselves. I know the food stores have started looking pretty meager lately.”

  The other cultists were now completely focused on Jason and his accusation. The cultist in front of Jason sputtered angrily and pushed his cowl back, revealing his thickly bearded face. A jagged scar ran from the gnarled nub of his right ear down to his collarbone. “You want to come over here and say that to my face?” The man glared at Jason, silently daring him to keep talking.

  “Sure.” Jason walked up to the man slowly until he stood directly in front of him. “Whew, I haven’t had a chance to see you without your hood. I didn’t realize that our cook was as ugly as he is hard of hearing.” He could see the other man practically trembling in anger.

  “Maybe I need to teach you some manners,” the cultist growled, shoving Jason.

  “Then do it!” Jason taunted. “Or are you all talk?”

  God, this is going to hurt. Frank better get that poison in the pot fast.

  The man let out a roar, and his arm lashed forward. Jason might have been able to dodge the blow, but he accepted it head on. He needed to create a scene, not start a brawl. The fist struck his head, and a dull pain radiated from his eye socket. Jason tumbled backward and landed heavily on his back.

  -40 Damage (Stunned)

  “Is that all you’ve got? So you are deaf, ugly, and weak,” Jason croaked from the ground. Glancing up, Jason could just make out Frank dumping the poison into the pot and stirring it frantically, casting worried glances at Jason.

  “You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?” the cultist spat. He walked up to Jason and kicked him viciously in the stomach. Jason grunted as the man’s foot impacted his leather cuirass under the robe. The leather barely blunted the blow.

  -100 Damage

  The cultist was incredibly strong and pain lanced through Jason’s stomach with each strike. Not satisfied that Jason had learned his lesson, the cultist’s foot struck him repeatedly. Jason’s body shuddered under the blows.

  -101 Damage

  -138 Damage (Critical)

  -103 Damage

  -135 Damage (Critical)

  -93 Damage

  -87 Damage (Crippling)

  Finally, the cultist ran out of steam and spat on his prone form. Jason let out a weak groan as dull pain radiated through his whole body. Jason could have sworn he heard something snap at some point during the beating. A hacking cough struck him, and droplets of blood rained from his lips, splashing the dirt of the courtyard.

  I’m so going to kill that asshole, Jason thought weakly.

  Then another voice spoke, “D
amn it. What did you say to this guy?” It was Frank’s voice. Jason’s eyes cracked open and saw Frank leaning over him. His friend’s hands grabbed him roughly and pulled him to his feet, where he slumped against Frank’s large form.

  “I’m sorry for my friend,” Frank said contritely to the other cultist. “He just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

  “I bet he’s learned now,” the other cultist retorted in a cruel voice, rubbing at his bruised knuckles.

  Frank nodded agreeably. “Looks that way. Let me take him home and put the idiot to bed. Sorry about the trouble.”

  The cultist scoffed and turned away from the pair. The other cultists also turned back to their work with a casual disregard for the scene they just witnessed. Apparently, this type of violence wasn’t unusual within their society. Frank took the opportunity to half-drag, half-carry Jason away from the courtyard.

  As they were walking away, Frank whispered to Jason, “What the hell were you thinking? Are you okay?”

  Jason just groaned in response. Frank shook his head and pulled a red jar from the bag. “Here, drink this,” he said in a worried voice as he handed the bottle to his injured friend.

  Jason managed to lift the potion to his lips and gulped down its contents. He soon felt his wounds closing and his ribs mending together. He was still a bit shaken from the experience, but the pain had started to fade.

  “Was that necessary?” Frank asked as he lifted Jason into the bed of the wagon.

  Jason looked at his friend evenly as he wiped the droplets of blood from his lips with his sleeve. Despite his injuries, his eyes glowed darkly under his hood. “Let me be clear, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my city. If this gives us an edge in the coming fight, then it was worth it,” Jason rasped.

  Frank looked at his friend with uncertain eyes. As he circled back to the front of the wagon, Jason heard Frank mutter, “Is this even a game anymore?”

  Chapter 20 - Surprised