The first to go take a rest outside of the Arena of Trials were the fallen tank and the Rogue that had pushed him over—these boys were literally trampled without having a chance to get back up. After them went a Hunter, two Mages, a Death Knight and another tank, who had been covering the other end of our circle. The Werebeasts simply trampled over the players, passing us at speed. It was impossible to heal so much damage so quickly. Even Stacey was grinding her teeth, watching the grayed-out frames—Paladins can only use their bubble at Level 100, so she couldn’t protect a player for ten seconds. We were seven down …
“Regroup! Leather and plate armor to the perimeter. Form a small circle! Healers—pull your weight! Tanks, try to get the mobs off the leather-armored players!”
“Plinto! There are 10 Mages right in front of you! Take Clutzer and cut them down! Lorgas—back them up! Eric—get this mob off me! Mahan and Barsa—get to the center of the circle and heal everyone! Help out in the second circle! Focus down the markers I set!”
Despite the wedge dividing us into two groups, the Raid Leader went on earning his wages. Markers appeared on the mob, the air grew thick with orders and buffs, raising our stats. From an objective standpoint, nothing terrible had happened. We had simply come under a little strain, and I had to summon my Spirits so quickly that I could barely finish the first summon before starting the next. This was not a pace I ever enjoyed, and yet even it was too slow once the Werebeasts left the tanks alone and turned on the Rogues and Mages—healing them when there were Bears latched onto them was incredibly tough.
“The second round is complete!” cried the announcer after ten minutes. “The Silver Hand clan has proven that it can stand up for itself. And again I ask—you who wish to reject our brothers and bar them from taking their lawful place among us—are you prepared?” shouted the announcer to the Werebeasts with the number 3 on their headbands, who had approached the Arena’s edge.
“Everyone, restore your mana!” ordered Anastaria as soon as the announcer began his new speech. The second round had cost us dearly—split into two squads, we had lost nine players. There had been no way of healing them during the battle—as soon as we had attacked their Mages, the Werebeasts had gone berserk. Three of them would fall upon one Mage or Rogue and expel them from the Arena in a matter of moments, opening their way to their next victim.
“We are!” yelled the third group and the Heroes entered the arena. Fifty-two Heroes and ten ordinary Werebeasts, a portion of whom didn’t even bother to turn into their Animal Forms. Staffs in hand, they assembled in one group and began to cast strengthening spells. That was the last thing we needed! Not only were we facing Heroes, but our enemies also had Healers who were about to buff them? That was not the deal!
The whole point of Heroic mobs, as the developers had conceived them, was to test the level of preparedness of the players—what was the point of slaying a hundred cows to gain the experience you needed? Slay a Heroic Bull and enjoy the same rewards gained in a fraction of the time. Players never fought these mini-bosses on their own, especially when their levels were similar. As a rule, five players would get together and make sure to include a tank and a healer. Heroic mobs did incredible damage and had such high stats that even an advantage of twenty levels would not save a player from their attacks. To the developers’ credit, I should point out that you could only encounter such mobs in a Dungeon or in special locations where an ordinary player would not typically go. Especially if he was sane and sober…
“All right ladies, let’s dance!” Magdey said immediately. “Heroes aren’t mere mobs. Their Imitators are a level higher across all stats! Damage in particular! Healers, pour everything into our tanks! Spare nothing—there won’t be any time to select an appropriate spell!”
Fifty-three players against 62 Werebeasts. In principle, it’s not a bad match-up, but 52 Heroes…that’s a lot.
“Get ready!” yelled Anastaria when the third wave rushed in our direction. “Aim for our markers!”
Even I felt the Heroes’ impact. Despite standing practically in the middle of our improvised circle, the shockwave of jolted players reached me—after already having passed through three ranks of players…I can only imagine what the tanks who took the blow on their shields felt. Especially Eric—a tank with his sensory filters turned off.
“Air!” I heard Barsina scream in a slightly confused voice, but she was interrupted by Magdey:
“Dome! Retreat slowly!”
“Those aren’t Mages! Those…” was all that Anastaria managed to get out before the first Hero landed smack dab in the middle of our squad. The Werebeasts didn’t bother to risk their hides and knock on our tanks’ shields. Instead, the Heroes began to toss one another into our circle right over the heads of our perimeter—like huge artillery rounds. And who, after seeing that, is going to call Imitators mere scripts?
The first Werebeast in the form of a Bear landed right between Barsina and me, scattering us in opposite directions. If it weren’t for the density of players around us keeping us from falling, we would have gone on flying for a long time. The blow from his paw stunned me. An icon appeared above the Werebeasts head: “Dizzy” with a countdown that instantly went from 3 to 2: The landing then had cost the Hero something too. We needed to take advantage of this!
The Shaman has three hands…
The Spirit of Petrification was unlocked at Level 40. I hadn’t seen it in the list of prohibited summons, so guided more by instinct and reflex than reasoning and consciousness, I poured this Spirit like from a pitcher onto the high-level mob.
“Way to go, Mahan!” Judging by Barsa’s reaction, my deed had not gone unnoticed. The Werebeast froze right over her, a terrible grimace distorting his mug, right as he was about to send my healer out of the Arena. Not on my watch!
“Barsa, take over the raid group!” I shouted in reply. “Stacey! Can you turn into a Siren and freeze everyone like you did in Krispa?”
“No! That ability requires Level 150! Dan—get back to healing! They’ve already taken out three of us!”
Anastaria was right—in the frames, the players’ life bars were quickly falling. Three—no, already four—frames had gone gray, signifying that those players were out. I didn’t know what losses the Werebeasts were suffering, but judging by the steadily shifting target markers, I could assume that we were hurting them too. I really did not want to believe that the Werebeasts were so agile that they could dart around my entire raid party without our boys getting a chance of hitting them with something heavy and sharp. That would simply be too much of a blow to my morale.
“Goddamn it!” Stacey’s thought did not merely occur to me—I felt it with all the fibers of my consciousness. I looked up from my hectic healing, glanced at the frames and gaped: Despite our healers’ ceaseless labor, the situation had gone from ‘critical’ to ‘catastrophic.’ Half our raid party was already out and the Hit Points of the remainder boded nothing well—mine was the highest at 30%. “All right Danny, I’m done…Try to make it through…”
WHAT?!
I turned to look where Anastaria had been and growled from helplessness. Surrounded by five Heroes at once, the girl swung her sword to send another foe to his rest—and instantly vanished. The Arena of Trials had lost another healer—one of the best…
“Mahan, how is your mana?” Barsina growled hoarsely, even as she cast more Healing Rain. The players had formed a human shield around the girl, trying their utmost to bar the mobs from reaching the Druid.
“Mana isn’t looking good,” I blurted in response, granting a couple players a little more time in the Arena. It was pointless to summon mass healing—it heals too little per second, so there was nothing to do but heal each person in turn. The only good thing was that given my rank, I could fill in about 40–50% of each player’s life bar with one summon.
“Then we’re done for,” sounded a joyful voice, in stark contrast to our current situation. Plinto! “Eh…if I could freeze them for a
short minute, I could probably…Well, nothing doing, let’s go on!”
A minute? Where could I find a minute? A circle of players surrounded me like they had Barsa. Even Eric was among my new bodyguard, so I didn’t have much time to contemplate anything. Either I could heal, or I could fall and forget about the Craggy Forest…or…
“Come here, Draco!”
“Coming.”
You have summoned your Totem. Totem Level decreased to 51.
“Wow! What’s going on here? Ow! That hurts!” yelled Draco as soon as he appeared beside me. He was immediately struck with a fireball, reminding me that in addition to the Heroes, we were also dealing with Mages who weren’t about to sit around quietly in the rearguard.
“Draco, Thunderclap! Right this instant!”
“But it hurts!” whined Draco when three more fireballs struck him, after which the terrible Dragon’s shout echoed throughout the entire Craggy Forest.
“It’s done, brother! I’m half…”
Due to exhaustion, the Totem’s summon time has ended. You may summon the Totem again in 6 hours.
“Everyone still kicking! You have one minute!” I yelled, pausing for a breath. I had an entire minute to restore my mana. Without it, I’d have nothing else to do here.
Fifteen players, among whom remained only two healers and one tank, fell on the remainder of the Heroes. Not that you would call this a remainder—of the 52 Hero Werebeasts that had entered the circle, about half still remained by the time of Draco’s Thunderclap.
“Plinto, focus on the Heroes!” I shouted. “Kill the healers and Mages! They’re priority number one!”
“I listen and obey, oh my master! Quiphat, on my heels!” came the Rogue’s answer as the two players rushed past me. The Warrior—the protégé of Magdey (who had already been knocked out)—went with my Rogue. Considering that he had plate armor and had stood in the front ranks with the tanks, I could tell why my Raid Leader had so recommended this low-level player to my raid group. In combat, Quiphat was worth three others.
“Form a circle!” In the absence of the two Raid Leaders, I had no choice but to take the reins in my hand. “Plinto, Quiphat! Leave the Mages alone—we only have five seconds! Circle!”
Over the course of the minute, Barsa and I had managed to fully restore our raid party’s health. Our fighters, meanwhile, had killed ten Heroes and half the Mages. In addition to this, the Werebeasts no longer had any Healers—this was all the good news in the past several minutes. The only frightening thing was that Eric—with his fully turned on sensations—was our only remaining tank. The balance was still clearly not in our favor.
“Dan, can you still hear me?” came Anastaria’s thought suddenly.
“I think so.”
“Wonderful! I need your undivided attention! Of the seventeen remaining Heroes, only four are dangerous—they’re the ones that were guarding their healers. The others are all below 50%, and won’t take much more work to finish. Tell Eric to draw agro from those four and kite them around the perimeter of the arena. You will need to slow them down however you can—make sure that they don’t reach the tank, nor leave him and switch to you or Barsa. Send Plinto and Barsa to fight the Mages right away. They musts be destroyed! As soon as you’re done…”
Due to the Arena rules, any contact with the outside world is prohibited. Telepathy shall be blocked during the tournament.
“Eric, draw the mobs to yourself with your markers and then kite them around the perimeter. Plinto, you…” I took a few seconds to set the markers over the Werebeasts’ heads and issue my orders. “Everyone else, focus down one enemy at a time together. “Quiphat—you’ll have to be our tank! Let’s go!”
As if they had anticipated my orders, the Werebeasts stopped tarrying and launched a full-blown assault. Oh how I love to fight mobs and how I loathe intelligent PvP-ers. Though the Imitators in our foes right now are advanced, they are still no more than code imbued with a certain logic and certain limitations. Most active PvP-ers would have long since waded into the middle of our squad, utterly ignoring the tanks. Did you cast ‘Taunt’—which compels a mob to attack a tank for ten seconds—on a player? Good job—you’ve just wasted several seconds without doing any damage. Do it a couple more times just to be sure, while the enemy cuts you down to your constituent limbs…I didn’t like fighting other players as a Shaman or as a Hunter: For me, that part of the game was too…too real, I guess. Yet there were players who could not imagine spending a day in Barliona without finding their ten victims. How different people can be!
The Shaman has three hands…
Spirit of Slowing on the Hero, Spirit of Healing on Quiphat, Spirit of Healing on Quiphat, Spirit of Slowing on a Hero, Spirit of Strengthening on Quiphat, Shield on Quiphat, Spirit of Healing on Quiphat, Spirit of Slowing on a Hero, Spirit…
If during the second wave it had seemed to me that I was working at full steam, then I really don’t know much about this game. In the earlier round, I would begin summoning the new Spirit without having finished summoning the preceding one—now, however, it seemed to me that I was summoning two Spirits at once. My restored mana pool began to ebb once more. There were constant screams and questions, but I had no time to look away from the players’ frames. Here Lantir has lost half his Hit Points—perhaps a Hero has run into him. Take some healing! Here Quiphat, acting like a tank, has again gone from 100% to 10% Hit Points. In one second. Take two healings! Here Mahan has received a blow on his head and is stunned for five seconds…Take some…Wait! Mahan—that’s me! Oops…
A mere five seconds of stun and we find ourselves less three fighters. Plinto still hasn’t managed to reach the Mages after all and is stuck fighting two Heroes. Barsa is trying as hard as she can to prevent the Rogue’s premature demise, working like me without a single breath. Eric…
“Mahan!” came a wild yell from the Officer, forcing me to open my eyes and look around. It would have been better if I hadn’t done that—a wall of flame was advancing right on me! The Werebeast Mages had managed to cast and launch a fiery sphere about three meters in diameter, which took our players Hit Points down by half by merely grazing them. I hadn’t the time to duck or dodge the attack—the sphere was so close to me that I could feel its heat…I was about to be in pain…a lot of it!
“Finish them off!” Eric’s voice sounded again, and the tank rammed me with his torso, knocking me several meters away. The player frame flashed and went gray—the dwarf left the Arena. Even taking his Endurance to account, I was afraid to imagine the pain that my Officer had experienced in saving me. To feel oneself burn alive, even for a moment must be quite unpleasant…
“The Mages are done!” Plinto immediately called out. At long last, his voice was stripped of any mockery or jest. That didn’t make anything easier, but the thought that even ‘steely’ Plinto could grow weary was a consolation of sorts. We are all human, we are all people. All we had to do now was prove as much to the Imitators.
“Everyone, form a circle!” I instantly commanded, waving away the notification telling me that I had run out of mana. My Energy was unaffected, so my mana would return in the coming moments. Only, where could I find these next coming moment? “Barsa! Get into the circle! Plinto, grab her!”
The little Druid flew into a rage. I got the impression that she no longer understood what was happening around her. She was focused only on healing, healing and more healing. And then only seven of us remained…
Two unfinished Bears, brandishing their claws, attacked Barsina from both sides. The girl exclaimed and surged upward—never to return to the ground. Her body dissolved right in midair. After the tanks, it’s the healers who represent the greatest threat, so the mobs always attack those who are actively healing. Considering that we had no more tanks, I would be the Heroes’ next target. And there was no one to cover me aside from Quiphat: Clutzer, Plinto, Quiphat, me and a Necromancer, Hunter, and Mage whom I was not acquainted with. Seven versus…ten, five of whom h
ad less than 10% Hit Points remaining.
“Aim strictly at the markers! Quiphat, you’re the acting tank! Let’s hit them where it hurts!”
My mana was replenishing extremely slowly. Any other day, my 220 Energy would elicit envy from any average player, but in the realities of battle it just wasn’t enough. Clutzer was the first to fall—missing a deflection he hunched over in pain (I could kill whoever had turned our sensory filters off) and a Werebeast used this moment to his utmost. In revenge, we knocked out three, but lost the Hunter who shielded me with his body. While the Heroes were trying to figure out how I’d survived, Plinto took out two more. Pouring my healing into him, I almost screamed from helplessness—for the next fifteen seconds, I would be useless. Meanwhile, we were still facing 5 Heroes with huge reserves of Hit Points—from 30% to 70%. As Shakespeare once wrote, “Mana! Mana! A kingdom for some mana!” How appropriate seemed this phrase at this moment!
We traded our Necromancer and Mage for another Hero, albeit the one who had the most Hit Points. Quiphat was still quite low for holding back two at once. Plinto was relatively unoccupied—dealing with only one Hero. However, the mobs had finally clawed their way through to my precious hide. It was but one, but I got to experience the full range of my activated sensations…It turns out that claws, as clumsy as they may seem, are capable of evoking extremely unpleasant feelings reminiscent of being burned. Even though Plinto and Quiphat instantly turned on the Bear that attacked me, it took him a while to depart from the Arena and in the process he managed to gobble up 80% of my Hit Points. If it weren’t for the healing that I managed to cast on myself, I’d be sitting beside Anastaria and watching the trials and tribulations of the Rogue and Warrior. But when we were left 3 on 3, for the first time in that third wave, I felt sure that we would come out victorious. And not simply sure, but absolutely certain, since, slaying yet another Bear, all three of us leveled up, regaining thereby all our stats. Glancing at my stats caused me to grin. I hadn’t even noticed myself reach Level 59…I had gained 8 levels in 15 minutes of battle…In fact all of us had. Not a bad contribution to our retirement fund! All that was left was to figure out whether I’d get to keep these levels or lose them once we’d left the circle.
The Phantom Castle (The Way of the Shaman: Book #4) LitRPG series Page 19