Cat's Quest

by Roman Prokofiev

  That really was not funny. Of course, each minute the PROJECT spent dawdling gave us a head start, but having someone prepare to cut out your eyes was plenty uncomfortable, even with just 70% immersion. My broken arm hurt like hell.

  Abruptly, Svoy pulled his hammer-knife back from my face and raised it, its blade smeared in blood.

  “Dorten loves this bit!” He shouted, triumphantly. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the snakeman, a shadow appeared, rapidly growing and filling out. It was shaped like a giant in spiked armor and a close helmet, ghastly green fire visible in his eye-slits.

  I felt a gust of icy wind and the breath of an open grave, and sensed a powerful presence. The sun disappeared behind a string of clouds. The log exploded with a bunch of lines about weird auras.

  “Dorten! I offer you this sacrifice!” Then, Svoy raised his ritual dagger, paying no heed to the giant shadow behind him.

  To hell with this. I’m outta here. Logout. I can’t handle this.

  * * *

  “He got away, the wuss!”

  HotCat’s body slumped into the grass, blood spurting out of several wounds in his chest. Ravenling and Seeker finished him off with a few fast hits, adding a kill to their lists. Frustrated, Svoy lowered his hammer-knife athame. The divine presence of the dark god, which gave him a feeling of euphoria, quickly dissipated. Still, it left behind it a nice day-long damage bonus for the entire party, and that was in the field, without a temple or an altar.

  “I found him. I picked up his trail!” Seeker announced, coming closer. “They split up. The Err’s going south, no further than ten leagues away.”

  “I see. They were covering him. That’s why they were trying to kill the birdies and not us.”

  “We could try and catch up with them via a jump to the resp point. Add them once again to our kill rating.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Svoy said, looking at the scout. “All the resp points here are guarded by local lowlifes.”

  “Why would we be afraid of some borderland bums?” Tasmith asked, wrinkling her nose. “No castles, no names, just attitude!”

  “We’ll smash them, of course,” Svoy said confidently, “but that will draw a lot of unnecessary attention. Two hours after a fight, half of Wild Field will be here!”

  “We’ll follow the Err’s trail.” He ruled, after considering it for a minute. “Seeker!”

  The ranger summoned his paws again, and the wolves started circling, soon picking up the scent. The group moved out, headed by Seeker, who, with his Hunting Sense, was the only one who could see the thin red line leading into the steppe.

  CHAPTER 27 NONAMES

  What happens in Sphere when a player logs off? Depends on the player’s state and location. In a tavern, an inn, a tent, or any other place intended for rest, you instantly disappeared, triggering the Rest ability, and after a few hours, upon your return, you got the Rested buff—increased regeneration of mana, HP, and stamina. The power and duration of the buff depended on how long you rested.

  If you logged out in a place not intended for rest, you would also disappear, but not immediately, a minute later. You would did not get any buffs on your return either, which was why players usually tried to log out in resting locations.

  If, however, a player was in a state of combat against an NPC or another player, a special countdown would start. Upon logging out, the player’s body would stay for ten whole minutes inside the game, and during this time, others could do all sorts of bad things to the lifeless body. This factor was intended to discourage players from using logout as a way of saving themselves from death in PvP or a dungeon.

  This system made a lot of sense, but right at that moment, I did not like it, seeing as I had just been offered as a sacrifice to some dark deity. I had no idea whether I had stopped the ritual by logging out or not, but I wanted to believe that I had.

  The kill rating window informed me that the PROJECT party had finished me off, with all of its members contributing. That meant my spirit was already at the resp point and I could log in. Sphere met me with an unpleasant message.

  Your character was sacrificed to Dorten, God of Darkness! You permanently lost 1 point of Luck! You lost 10,000 XP! Current XP: ...

  I also got a message from Alex.

  AlexOrder: Don’t res, Cat.

  HotCat: What’s the matter?

  AlexOrder: I think we’re stuck.

  The Wild Lands resp point, where we now found ourselves, was at the top of a rocky hill covered with faded grass. The view was breathtaking: a yellow-green prairie under endless blue skies with white swirling clouds. A few other details, however, prevented me from enjoying it fully. Around ten players were sitting on grey boulders. They had pretty diverse equipment. The ones closest to me had bows, crossbows, and lassos attached to their belts, and hooked nets, on top of standard melee weapons. Their nicknames were colored bright red, which meant that they were PKers, players with karmas way below zero, thanks to their many crimes.

  “Go on, respawn!” one of them yelled. “We already see your spirits!”

  “We’re good guys, don’t be afraid, we won’t hurt you when we kill you...”

  One of the PKers approached the resp circle, his hands on his hips. He was human, of medium height, and had the stubborn sly look of an old trickster. I could see chainmail under his grey cloak, and two swords crossed on his back.

  “All right, time for joking’s over!” He said hoarsely. “Let’s negotiate. I’m offering you a chance to buy your hides out. Five thousand for each of you, and you can go about your business!”

  AlexOrder: Ignore him, he’s lying.

  HotCat: What do they want?

  AlexOrder: Kills and loot. It’s a proper ambush, with a stonejammer. They’ll keep killing us until they get bored, or until we log off.

  Another player climbed up to the respawn point wrapped in a brown robe and wearing a hood. He bared his head, revealing a bearded face beneath a steel helmet, and spoke to us in a soft yet authoritative tone.

  “If you pay, we’ll only kill you once. Then we’ll let you go. The Nonames keep their word.”

  “Or who’d pay a ransom?” The first PK chimed in. “Go on, decide. You’ve got ten seconds!”

  “Nine...eight...seven...” The others started counting down in unison.

  Nonames was the name of the clan to which the players surrounding the resp point belonged. I opened their combat stats. Yeah, they were local, not too big or too small. Their kill rating for the past month showed thirty-eight active players, with almost all kills carried out in the north of the Wild Field. What could I see about players from this clan and others like it? Bums, punks—the Watchers and their allies held such players in contempt, as the dwellers of the Field had no lands or castle to call their own. Neither did they have discipline or an organization on the same level as top alliances, but then, players did not join this kind of clan for all that. Daredevils, who knew neither rules nor order, free-loving bandits, and simple lovers of PK and PvP flocked to the Steppe from safe kingdoms and clan territories. There, one could always find an opponent; each day, the Wild Field was home to a new PvP battle.

  They say that a person can really rise to the task, when under maximum stress. I had noticed before, that I could always do more than I had anticipated, when something truly important was on the line. This was one such moment.

  HotCat: Alex, let’s res.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Wild Field...

  The trail led to the ruins on the slope of a hill, a half-destroyed structure with an arch that had long since collapsed. The remains of the old stonework were overgrown with mold and prairie grass, the ancient carving barely visible underneath. Wind howled through the fragments of collapsed statues, stones with weather-beaten script, and dome-shaped windows.

  They dismounted, but were in no hurry to get inside.

  “What’s that?” asked Svoy. “What is that place?”

  “Some old templ
e,” Ravenling shrugged. “It’s marked on the map as the ruins of the Temple of Shadows.”

  “They’re inside. Really close!” Seeker said, jigging up and down. “The tracks lead there!” He pointed at a dark hole in the ruins, a breach rather than a proper door.

  “I have a bad feeling about this.” Svoy said. “They’ve stopped running. Are they trying to ambush us again?”

  “They’re just holed up there like rats!” Seeker replied. “Trying to hide from us!”

  “Watchers can be many things, but they aren’t fools.” Svoy winced.

  “It does look like a trap,” Ravenling agreed.

  “Seeker, try and determine who’s inside. Ravenling, check the locals’ activity via the kill rating and on the net.”

  “It’s clear. Three signals.” Seeker reported, using Mental Search. “The area around us is also clear. The nearest mobs are beyond a league’s distance.”

  “No locals online. The last kills were made three hours ago with our friends as the victims. PKers caught them at the resp point, where we sent them.”

  “I know, I monitored their kill rating. The locals are offline? That’s odd. It’s their prime time.” Svoy said, thinking aloud.

  “It explains how the Watchers managed to leave the resp point.” Tasmith spoke up. “If the locals kept camping it, they would still be there!”

  “Might be.” Svoy mused. He winced again, as if his teeth hurt.

  “Tao’s pushing us. We only have four hours left. After that, our deal with Pandas is kaput, and we’ll owe them a million gold!”

  “Then we’ll have to risk it.” Seeker said. “They’re in there with the Err. The Crown is almost ours!”

  “Let’s buff, drink the elixirs, and go in!” Svoy said, having made his decision. “Release the pawns!”

  The first hall contained nothing but cracked stone vases and wrecked pillars. The PROJECT team were on their guard, walking cautiously, reacting to every noise. A narrow stone stairway led into the second room, a shrine.

  They descended one by one. Inside, it was dark, with only a few rays of light passing through the broken ceiling. The hall was long and square-angled. The walls were covered with well-preserved bas-reliefs depicting the gods and scenes from their lives. Three stone altars stood at the far end of the shrine. Massive statues protruded from the walls, representing the three Gods of Shadow.

  Anki was on the right, the Sleeping God, a prophet and seer. Half-naked Gella was to the left, a frivolous smile on her stone lips; she was a goddess of love and beauty. Finally, in the center, bent like a beggar asking for alms, was Tormis, keeper of secrets, patron of tricksters and crooks.

  The three of them stood before the altar: a bearded rune master, his hand on the grip of his sword, a dark-haired youth in leather armor, and a cloaked figure behind them, clad in a robe of disguise, his face hidden beneath a hood.

  The rune master pulled out his longsword, while another blade appeared in the young man’s hands, burning bright blue. They stepped forward, shielding the hooded figure. In response, blue Flames of Elm flashed on Eyrin’s battle wand, while Seeker and Ravenling drew their bows, and the werewolves bared their fangs, waiting for the next command. Tasmith spread her arms, preparing to cast a curse, and Svoy walked forward at a brisk pace, twirling his falchion into a vicious spin. The figure with the flaming sword, HotCat, laughed suddenly.

  “I can’t believe it!” He said, still laughing, and putting his sword back in its sheath. “I can’t believe you fell for such a simple trick!”

  Nonames warriors sprang up out of thin air and surrounded the PROJECT’s party. Appearing, one after another, within a few seconds, they had formed a thick circle around Svoy’s group.

  “Login trap!” Svoy shouted in fury, trying to leap aside. But he could not move, as all five members of PROJECT found themselves at the center of a giant rune drawn on the floor of the shrine. Its lines glowed bright blue, obeying the gestures of the bearded rune master. Spectral chains emerged from those lines hindering the movement of HELL’s warriors.

  “Hello, sweeties!” A mocking voice intoned. And then, the battle began.

  * * *

  Three hours earlier...

  HotCat: Alex, let’s res.

  AlexOrder: What?!

  I turned into flesh again, and jumped down from the stone circle. As expected, the battle log immediately swarmed with lines. The Nonames were well coordinated; in a few seconds, I was surrounded and ensnared by several nets. Spears and arrow tips glistened in the sun, the blades of their naked swords shining brightly. A powerful blow knocked me down, and a broad spearhead pushed against my throat. The leader’s face appeared right before me, and he winked with one of his sly-looking eyes.

  “So, do we have a deal? You pay us, we add you to our kill rating and bid you farewell!”

  “How about we talk first?” I replied.

  “What’s the point in talking? Finish him, Blackie!”

  “Quiet! Why not hear him out? It’s free, after all.” The main guy said, putting the others down. He was called Black Don, but the Nonames had given him a fond nickname, Blackie. “Talk, carebear, but fast!”

  “I have an interesting proposition for you.”

  “I’m listening. But make the second one resurrect, too!”

  Alex jumped down from the resp point and got captured just the same. One more Noname dropped out of stealth behind his back; this one was a dark elf. Carefully, almost gently, he grabbed my friend’s head and pressed a curved scimitar to his body, then made a declaration, smiling,

  “This will be my three thousandth kill! A milestone!”

  “Wait, Thirteenth... Don't get your knickers in a twist! Talk!” Black Don commanded. “And God help you if you’re bluffing!”

  “Blackie, I want his blood!” A bald thug with a tattooed head chanted sweetly. “Too little fresh meat today. Let’s add them to our kill rating!”

  “First, we hear them out!” The bearded guy in the brown hooded cloak elbowed his way forward, and gave a smirking nod.

  “Hi Alex!”

  “Arrow?” AlexOrder gasped, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

  Black Don look them both up and down, then turned back to me.

  “Talk!”

  “I’d like a private conversation.”

  “I have no secrets from my people. Talk!”

  My offer came as a shock to the Nonames, and then caused a great deal of inner turmoil.

  “My milestone kill!” Thirteenth sobbed, almost genuinely, as he released Alex.

  “That’s an interesting offer,” Blackie said through clenched teeth. “If, of course, it’s true.”

  “I ran their kill list though,” said another PKer dressed as a healer or a priest. “Fresh kills. PROJECT really is hot on their tails.”

  “We kill them and this PROJECT of yours! Why not?” The bald one yelled. I examined him more closely. He was a nasty-looking fellow with deathly pale skin and a head completely covered in tattoos. Players chose this kind of appearance to strike fear into others.

  “I advise against engaging a PROJECT HELL war party in the field,” Arrow said quietly.

  “I agree,” the leader of the Nonames said, nodding. “I’ve run into them... They’ll cut us all down. But if we follow HotCat’s plan...”

  “It could work, Blackie.”

  “I know it could. But PROJECT HELL, a war party—you know yourself, these are pros!”

  “We weren’t born yesterday, either! And there are seventeen of us, not including pawns, and five of them.”

  “If you give me an hour, I’ll draw up a Greater Rune of Chains,” AlexOrder said. “I have all the ingredients.”

  Blackie gave a whistle of appreciation, then looked at Arrow, a question written on his face. The other nodded briskly, corroborating Alex’s words.

  “Let’s try it, Blackie! Let’s try it, you Black Donut!” One of the Nonames, Thirteenth, gave his shoulders a friendly squeeze. “
They’re all bedecked in epics and legendaries, inventories full of Sparks! Don’t let stuff like that go to waste!”

  “Let’s vote,” Arrow suggested softly.

  HotCat: How do you know him?

  AlexOrder: He used to be a Watcher. He left a long time ago. Had a beef with the Keepers, and they have a short temper.

  Private voting was not practiced among the Nonames. They simply raised their hands—or didn’t. Based on the result of the vote, the overwhelming majority wanted to ambush HELL. Judging by their comments, they were sick and tired of camping resp points and wanted some action. The bald-headed tattooed guy, thirsty for our blood, was among those who opposed the decision.

  “And there I was thinking that you were a true PvP clan, not some posers,” he snapped, seething with spite. “And you…you're always either vouching for someone or you turn out friends with them! You’ve already vouched for half the Steppe, and now we can’t touch these carebears!”

  But his words found no support with the other clan members. He spat on the ground and walked off.

  “He left the clan again,” Thirteenth remarked. “Is this the fifth or the sixth time?”

  Black Don waved his hand in a tired gesture.

  “He’s uncontrollable.” He said. “But a great fighter. He’ll calm down and then come back.”

  I had offered the Nonames a good deal. In exchange for them letting us live and giving us passage, they got a much more plum piece—the PROJECT group. Loot and kill efficiency gained by defeating the group would be much greater than steamrolling us. In addition, I told the Nonames how to get PROJECT into a trap, from which they would never escape. There was just one problem: after dealing with PROJECT, Nonames could always do the same to us—and kill the Err. I was afraid of this, to be honest. Still, there was a way out.