The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  Up on the higher plane there were drinks that resembled those from the real world. Some had different names, though vodka, for instance, was called the same—that much I remembered. But you didn't see actual brands in the game. There had been a plan to allow the selling of brands in the game to the highest bidders, i.e. major corporations, but it hadn't been implemented before the patch. In short, I was stuck drinking what the devs had designed by default. Funnily enough, virtual reality had become the place to enjoy a ton of bad habits. Where else could I smoke one pipe after another without seriously damaging my health?

  Getting back to my archers... Like all demons, hunters could wear plate, with one caveat—a hunter in plate suffered a twenty percent loss to agility. Besides, I couldn't put the whole damn squad in plate! Nah, hunters would do just fine in chainmail. Range, attack speed, Icy Arrow, Fiery Arrow, one-handed and two-handed weapons. Archers had four talent trees to choose from: ranger, hunter, longbow and mounted archer. Naturally, I picked the fourth. Mounts weren't cheap, to be sure, but we'd figure something out.

  Rangers excelled in woods combat, tracking and pursuing enemies. Though there were plenty of forestland in the princedom, we weren't going to be dealing with any guerilla fighters; besides, the undead were more likely to meet us on an open plain than deep in some wood. Similarly, hunters focused too much on, well hunting: taming beasts, advanced camouflage... All of which was really great, only useless for my current purposes. In the field, even a ranger would be preferable thanks to his attack range and damage bonuses to sentient races. No doubt, a hunter with a well-developed pet would prove a tough nut to crack for any class, but that same pet, just like my razorback, would also consume half of his master's XP, and I just didn't see the sense in investing into special talents for boosting the experience gained by animals. I'd go even further and say that hunters were fairly useless in mass battles. I wouldn't pretend to know the class well, but you needn't be a genius to arrive at this conclusion. All right, so you set your bear or what have you at a row of heavy infantry. The poor thing wouldn't last a minute, and standing there healing the animal meant sacrificing your own damage output. On the other hand, the hunter lost a ton of value with the death of his pet, which could further only be resurrected every six hours. In my eyes, rangers and hunters had only one advantage over other classes: their mark. A marked target sustained ten percent more damage and couldn't go invisible via standard methods. And while that trait could certainly be useful someday, for the time being neither of these classes, much like rogue, fit into the battle strategy I was conceiving.

  Longbow was the best ranged dps class in the game for combat in open spaces and castle sieges. An archer with high enough strength felt comfortable in heavy armor. The longest attack range, the highest damage output, a fifty percent boost to effectiveness of armor-piercing and incendiary arrows... But not a single instant shot in their arsenal, which made them useless for mounted combat. A pity...

  I started putting some notes on paper, since I didn't know how my clanmates would react to their stats and talents being changed. So, all the archers were getting five points each into range, accuracy, attack speed and chainmail armor. Yes, demons could wear chainmail to start with, but I regarded a fifty percent boost to armor class as a necessity. I left resistances alone—defenses could be raised to seventy five percent with buffs alone. The remaining nine points went into icy, fiery and armor-piercing arrows. NPCs' talents could be set in advance to be allocated upon leveling, so I did exactly that. Now when my clanmates leveled, they would automatically have their shots raised by five, then acquire combat form, Infernal Rage, finishing shot, mounted archer and passive bonuses to agility as those became available. There, I was done with archers.

  Morning. The sun had already risen over the treetops, bathing the still-slumbering land with its rays. Somewhere nearby doors creaked, water buckets rattled, and a portly demoness sauntered leisurely to the well, hips swaying. The village of Ballan was awakening.

  "Seriously, darko, how long can you keep on sleeping?" I shook my head with wonder, gazing at the boar twitching his ears in his sleep, then returned to my calculations.

  What should I do with the casters? The healers would be given mounts like everyone else, which meant they also needed instant-cast spells, that is Nourish and Restore. The former was a heal-over-time spell that lasted twenty seconds, and the latter plainly restore a portion of the target's life. What else? Increased healing range, a ten percent four hour buff to constitution and spirit. Crits and Rejuvenation while in demonic form. That last one was almost OP, restoring fifty percent of the target's health every five minutes, healing an additional five percent every two seconds and raising armor by the same five percent. Rounding out the picture were Holy Shield, absorbing a certain amount of magic and physical damage and over ten seconds, and a resistance buff, with each healer getting a separate one: fire, ice and dark magic. Five points into the talent brought the resistance to fifty seven percent. With my Shield of the Elements, these three resistances would be maxed out. The rest went to boosting healing spells, increasing their range and duration. I cringed at the exorbitant amounts of mana they consumed—I'd need to outfit them in gear granting exclusively spirit and intellect bonuses, ideally coupled with constitution.

  Assuming that our squad won't always spend nights indoors, it would be on our mage to protect the camp. And since I was a lousy mage, that responsibility would fall on Reece. In my view, the best traps were found in the earth and water trees, snaring the victim for a time and slowing their movement to boot. So, I went with those schools. The rest was fairly predictable: Jump to the same level as me, Silence, Morph and Ice Shackles. Out of damage-dealing spells, Ice Spear for now, building toward Blizzard, Triple Ice Spear and Triple Stone Disc. In demonic form, the same crits and Summon Earth Elemental. Ice and water elementals were weakened when exposed to the sun, but their earth counterpart didn't care, functioning for his one minute without any debuffs. And, finally, a four-hour ten percent buff to intellect. I simply hadn't gotten around to it yet, not to mention I had no use for intellect, but with four casters in the squad it was essential to have.

  The case of melee fighters was much simpler. There were four talent trees: tank, one-handed weapon with shield, dual weapons and two-handers. I dismissed dual weapons right away—the only real "advantage" of this tree was that it looked cool, though they also dealt decent damage in instances. In our situation, we couldn't afford to be vain. Two-handed weapons are pretty rad, I recalled the rail fluttering nimbly in Kirana's hands, but I don't have any divine beings in my squad, alas.

  From I remembered from my vision about the dwarven legion, the fighters armed with two-handed swords and axes were in the back rows. And from what I remembered of real history, those kinds of troops were sent to break infantry lines. I had yet to encounter a single getare wielding a two-hander, which left my fighters with only the weapon-and-shield option. Sure, the combination would reduce their damage output by about thirty percent as compared to pure damage dealers, but they would feel much more confident in mass battles.

  I still remembered the video uploaded online of three allied clans clashing against some baron's militia. The players, nearly as high as the NPCs level-wise, had barely won the battle thanks to two factors: a three-to-one advantage in numbers, and an abundance of heals. Even then, the baron's militia had nearly routed the messy and disorganized attackers, kicking their butts up and down the battlefield.

  To be sure, the game had plenty of professional gamers whose skill exceeded that of any NPC unit, but those clans were few and far between, and they tended to avoid messing with the authorities and their troops. The point was, an organized squad was always far more effective in a combat situation. What was it our lieutenant used to say? Monotony, monotony, and some more monotiny.

  I was no general of a legion governed by sophisticated AI. For me, simpler was better, which was why my troops were getting identical talents. Boosts to armor
class, physical damage with one-handed weapons, Death Blow, Charge, Sweeping Strike, Battle Rage, combat stance, Kick and Vortex of Blades. Death Blow reduced the target's stat regeneration and inflicted Bleed; this was obviously useless against undead, but I couldn't find any other instant-cast strikes for their level. With Charge, the fighter intercepted the target, stunning it for two seconds. Battle Rage was a war cry that amplified damage output by ten percent for ten seconds and made the warrior immune to control spells. Sweeping Strikes was the equivalent of my razorback's Frenzy, and Vortex of Blades was a four-strike combo where each subsequent strike hit for fifteen percent more than the last. With Kick, the fighter interrupted the target's spell-casting, while combat stance was an ongoing warrior buff that boosted his stats and damage output by ten percent.

  In Demonic Form, they got Execution, Infernal Rage and Trembling Earth. Execution was an awesome skill, popping which made all attacks against a target with less than twenty percent life deal three times more damage for ten seconds, with only a thirty second cooldown. For all intents and purposes, these were crits—only the name was different. Why oh why didn't mages have something of the sort?

  Tanks were given Provoke, Taunting Strikes, Smash, Shield Bash, Stalwart Defense, Shield Wall, boosts to one-handed weapons damage and absorption of blocked damage, defensive stance and Granite Skin. The first four skills drew the target's aggro, while Stalwart Defense and Shield Wall made the wall virtually immune to all incoming damage for a short time. Granite Skin was a passive skill that improved armor class and constitution by twenty five percent.

  In demonic form, they got the standard crits, Trembling Earth and Final Argument, which boosted the tank's health by fifty percent of its maximum value for half a minute, and increased absorption of blocked damage to one hundred percent. In all other respects, the plan was the same—at level 180 the tanks would be given mounts, though theirs would need to be selected separately. Razorbacks like Gloom weren't exactly readily available, but we'd figure something out. Perhaps we could find some draft horses or the like, capable of bearing the extra weight.

  Making one final note in the menu, I shut the notepad lying on my knees and leaned back on the stable wall. I had no idea what would become of all this, or how the demons would even react to their newly acquired abilities. Would I need to explain to them how it all worked, where and when to use which specific skills? Or would they automatically become hardened and battle-ready veterans? I'd done my part, and had tried taking into account all the nuances. Our squad would have buffs for every occasion: constitution, intellect and spirit. I had no druids or paladins to work with, so raising vigor, agility and strength would be done by elixirs. Four resistances were maxed: fire, water, darkness and mental. After all the undead I'd fought and killed, I'd never seen them attack with anything else.

  The developers of the Realm of Arkon always fought for maintaining balance, and introducing a new race wasn't supposed to change that. Even accounting for all demons' ability to wear heavy armor, the fact was that prior to receiving their combat form demons were weaker than pretty much all other races. But if my theory was right that players from above were designed to enter this plane at the completion of the continental event, then it all made sense. In the developers' mind, by the time the path to the higher plane would open, many demon players would have already learned this skill, and would be ready to take on the new arrivals.

  Moreover, the devs had undoubtedly programmed several such continental events, though only this one ended up being triggered. Who could have predicted that just one player would have made it into the sealed plane?

  Heavy armor... Damn! I almost forgot about outfitting my little army. Thankfully, that part was easy: chainmail for archers, with a melee weapon just in case, and plate for the rest to maximize the race's advantage. With four hundred gold to work with, I feared it wouldn't be enough to buy anything of real value from the local smith, but more than sufficient for weapons and armor sets of average quality, assuming Reece had been right about the smith having them in stock. I also needed to repair my lance—those three strikes had taken off nearly twenty percent off durability. This would be a real problem if I started grinding—fifteen strikes was just way too low. I didn't know of a way to repair weapons in the field. There were probably portable anvils of some kind or other, but I shuddered at the thought of wasting all that time on repairs. Oh, the hell with all that! Using my regular weapon over a lance subtracted only one hundred thirty strength from the attack—hardly worth the extra headache.

  Getting up from the bench, I rolled my head and shoulders to get some blood flowing through the stiff muscles in my neck and back. The planning portion was over with, and waiting to be put into action.

  "Good morning, Krian!" Salta was waiting anxiously at the entrance. "I came to find out what we're doing. You told everyone to stay put..."

  "And to you as well," I smiled at her. "Everyone is up?"

  "We've been up for three hours now. It's the second time I'm here."

  "Apologies, I seem to have lost track of time."

  "No wonder. I saw how concentrated you were, writing in that book of yours and gnawing on the quill," the young woman grunted. "I didn't want to disturb. How did you sleep, by the way?"

  "It wasn't much, but I slept well," I shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

  "Oh, no reason," Salta tossed her hair back with a flick of the head, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "It's just that the bench outside our house is wider than this one, and there's a stack of hay nearby one could use for a pillow. Or do you prefer solitude?"

  "I'll keep that in mind," I snorted. Was she... mocking me? "Anyway, let's go to the others. I've got plenty for y'all to chew on."

  "Gvert came by as well," the archeress said as we started walking. "Wanted to discuss something, but I think you intimidate him, so he asked me to get you."

  "Am I really so scary?"

  "More mysterious than scary," she shook her head.

  The young woman was walking just ahead, and I couldn't help but admire her easy gait. Salta seemed to almost glide, as if walking on air that congealed into solid ground the moment she stepped on it. Tucked into plain brown boots, her close-fitting leather trousers accentuated her slender legs. Her coat and broad sash came together organically at her waist. Her figure was somewhat boyish, but no less attractive for it. Whoa! I chided myself. Easy on the NPC romancing—I've got enough on my plate as it is.

  "How so?" I willed my eyes away from her legs, glancing behind at the boar breathing heavily through his nostrils.

  "Are you serious?" the young woman gave me an incredulous look. "Just when we think all hope is lost, a knight of the Lightning God arrives, riding a black beast, slays that mongrel Daeron and proceeds to exterminate his entire host! Or do you think light races riding razorbacks is a common sight around these parts?"

  "That's not the whole story. I had plenty of help."

  "Don't be modest, dar. Ballan wouldn't be standing today if it weren't for you..."

  "Sir knight," Gvert addressed me the moment we entered the gate of the common house. "You're taking fourteen people from the village. Why? There won't be anyone left to defend the village!"

  "Defend?" I asked wearily. "Do you really think the village has a chance against another wave of the undead?" I folded my arms over my chest, looking sternly into the elder's dark brown eyes. "These fourteen guys and gals won't make a difference, and you know it."

  "But... but..." Gvert seemed deflated, his indignation having turned to befuddlement. "Then what do we do?"

  "Stay behind these walls while my troop and I try to clear the area," I said, watching Gloom trot past and plop down next to the sleeping Aritor, apparently sensing a kindred spirit. "Then I'd recommend evacuating to Xantarra—I reckon everyone will be safer there."

  "If we're leaving, Farot would probably be best," Gvert gave a heavy sigh. "It's got a fort as well, though it wouldn't survive a serious siege. But can we really just abandon
all this?"

  "Do you have any other options?"

  "Nothing I can think of," the elder spread his arms.

  Suddenly I felt a pang of compassion for this simple man, for the burden that had been forced upon him. Whereas I still somewhat associated all that was happening as a game, for him it was very much real. And bearing responsibility for a hundred farmers, nearly half of which were children... It was scary. I couldn't begin to imagine the full magnitude of his emotions. I knew then that I couldn't stay away...

  "We will escort you wherever you go," I had decided. "Whether to Farot or to Xantarra, it makes no difference. We were headed to both anyway. But you'll need to give us a bit to prepare properly."

  "Thank you, dar," the elder's eyes shone with relief. Looking over the motley troop crowding the front yard, he scratched his head contemplatively, then looked back at me and asked: "You need to outfit all these heroes, is that it?"

  "That's right. Do you have any suggestions?"

  "I will tell Skyle to give you everything you might need. We don't have much, but it should be enough for fourteen people. Considering some of your fighters aren't entirely without weapons and armor." The elder paused for a moment, thinking. "But I must ask you for something in return."

  "What is it?" I was a bit stunned at the NPC's grand gesture—things like this never happened! Or was he going to ask for something that would require a raid full of one hundred high-level characters...

  "It's nothing, really," Gvert nodded in the direction of my clanmates. "You're going to be training them, aren't you?" After I confirmed his suspicions with a nod, he continued. "We've got three communal pastures here... And, well, no one thought that our cemeteries would come alive—how could we know? But they did... Started to come alive, that is...."