NPC Critical (Level 58, Warrior, Half-ogre) has died!
At the same time, Bingo, who stood just to my left on the stairs, roared so loudly, my vision flashed red as I took a small amount of damage.
“Holy fuck, Bingo.”
He flared out his meter-long spines as he leaped off the stairs, sailing over the top of Winston and Flaky and landing next to Vern. As he leaped, one of his javelin-like spines raked its away across my exposed arm. Pain erupted.
You’ve been poisoned!
Damage taken! Damage taken!
“Goddamnit, Bingo!” I cried as I fell to my knees.
You’ve been cured of poison!
You’ve been healed!
Achievement unlocked! Be cured of poison!
Achievement unlocked! Be healed by a member of your party!
Tiatha had cured me, super quick. I saw Vern glow slightly with enchantment, and the now-healed half-ogre struggled to get onto his feet as Winston and Flaky belatedly entered the fray. An arrow ripped past my ear from behind as Granger shot into the shadows below. Behind, the two additional half-ogres roared with frustration as they tried to shoulder their way forward past us.
Several more of the creatures emerged, roaring strangely as they rushed forward out of the darkness. These monsters were fast. Their beaked mouths and flat heads made them look oddly like wrinkled old men. These creatures had bowls on their heads, I realized, filled with a splashing liquid. They kept their necks oddly straight, as if they were afraid to spill the contents of their head bowls.
I popped open my magic menu, hovered over Stun Enemy, one of only three spells I knew, and I cried out, casting the spell.
“Ooompff.” I faceplanted, falling down the stairs mid-cast as the two half-ogres pushed past me to get to the action. I took additional damage as an ogre stomped hard on my back. I felt my breastplate crack ominously. The half-ogre who’d stepped on me howled in pain as my armor’s Damage Reflect stung him back.
Warning! Your spell did not cast!
Superior Colossus Beetle Hide Breast Plate has broken! Enchantments deactivated!
“God damn you cunt-fucking, worthless stains of skunk chowder,” I cried.
You’ve been healed!
Bingo and the other two gorcupines were gone. They’d rushed down the hall, roaring into the darkness. I didn’t know if the gorcupines could see in the dark or not. The walls shook as they crashed about, ripping apart all of the turtle demons or whatever else they could find.
I took in the scene at the bottom of the stairs as I gingerly pulled myself to my feet. I couldn’t tell how many of the creatures there had been. A turtle arm hung from the ceiling, impaled by a pair of Bingo quills, like a bug on a science fair project. Pieces of turtle shell littered the floor, like broken crockery.
The three half-ogres looked at me expectantly. They all wanted to rush ahead and help the gorcupines. This was already out of hand.
“Stay put,” I said. They started to howl in protest.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the carnage. Bingo had literally gone apeshit. Holy cow. I couldn’t believe Jonah and Gretchen had defeated him in the tournament. More roars and crashing followed as I peeled off my useless breastplate. I’d try to get it repaired in town.
I heard the distinctive thwump of a spell being cast, and I knew it hadn’t come from Bingo and company.
Poppy: Bingo. Get your ass back here. Do not go ahead alone. Do not fight whatever that is.
Gretchen: What’s going on? What’s happening?
Poppy: Now is not the best time.
“Popper! Popper!” Alice called from the top of the stairs. “I hear fighting! I’m coming down!”
Holy shit. “It’s okay,” I called back. “Stay there. Do not come down here!”
NPC Flaky (Level 30, Berserker, Gorcupine) has died!
“Goddamn you, Bingo! You and Winston get your asses back here now!” I roared.
A moment later, Bingo and Winston emerged from the dark hall. Winston collapsed next to the disemboweled Critical. The gorcupine looked sick. A blinking exclamation mark by his name confirmed he’d been hit with some sort of abjuration spell, something that siphoned off his health. Great, a fucking vampire or necromancer of some sort. Tiatha cast a healing spell on him before he could die. The curse didn’t go away, but it stopped blinking on its own after a minute. She healed him again.
“Damnit, Bingo,” I said. “You probably activated every creature on the damn floor.”
“Every turtle creature on the floor is dead. However, there is a worthy opponent in the last room down the hall. It killed Flaky with a spell. I could not see it in the low light. I believe it is a demon of some sort. Do you wish me to attack it again?”
“No,” I said. “Jesus, let me think for a second.”
Our first encounter, and two of my party were dead, including one of the NPCs I hauled with me from Harmony. He’d regenerate back at the Harmony coliseum in two or three days. I’d have to replace him with another warrior from the market.
Whatever that was that had killed Flaky, it didn’t pursue them back here. It was likely the floor’s boss, guarding something of value.
I surveyed the damage once again. The room looked as if someone had tried to make salsa in a blender with no top.
I turned back to the others and grimaced. “So, that went well.”
Popper Note 7
Granger and I inspected the remains of a turtle creature. Granger’s Identify Creature skill was an intermediate level of 10. Tiatha had the same skill, but hers was only seven.
“I’ve never seen this manner of monster before,” Granger said. His eyes went glossy for a moment. “I do not know its name, but I can identify where it comes from. This is of Orochi origin.”
“Orochi?” I said. “Holy shit. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Granger said.
“I’ve never heard of monsters from there showing up off the islands.”
Granger shrugged. “I haven’t, either. But here they are.”
Not too many players ever leveled up high enough to travel to the islands of Japan—the country of Orochi in the game. I’d watched plenty videos of level 90 tanks wading onto one of the Orochi islands, only to get devoured or cut to shreds or turned into a skeletal husk just a few short minutes later. Orochi was a land of pure chaos. Large parties of power players would do Orochi raids for the valuable loot, but it was known as one of the most dangerous places in the game, second only to maybe the center of Africa or one of the domed, under-ocean cities. Demons and ghosts and powerful necromancers ruled Orochi. The only part of the country normal players could ever visit were the ports, and even then they couldn’t wander too far inland. The only city someone sub level 50 could ever visit was a place called Sugisaki—home of the weekly kaiju attack. I knew Sugisaki was an analog for the old capital of Japan, the now-drowned city of Tokyo.
I’d never seen or heard of Orochi monsters being transported off the islands. Even in places like the spiral or the tournament battle where one would fight creatures from around the world, it was unheard of to see these things. Why were they here now? How did they get here?
“You said we are looking for unusual things,” Bingo said. “This is unusual, is it not?”
“Damn straight it is.”
I told Gretchen and Jonah what had happened, though I left out the part of me losing complete control of the party. And getting trampled by one of my own guys.
Gretchen: This doesn’t make sense. Are you sure these are monsters from Orochi?
Poppy: Granger says they are. His skill level is high enough to know.
Gretchen: Hmm. If they’ve gotten past the protection, then maybe the whole spell has been broken. But how would they get from Japan to France?
Poppy: Spell? I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Gretchen: Don’t you remember? You never see monsters from Orochi because the islands are protected with a containment spell. There’s some harebrai
ned story explaining it. They didn’t want high-level characters capturing the expert-difficulty monsters and then setting them loose in Aberdeen on the noobs. Especially not monsters that can imbue curses.
I smiled, remembering the time Monobrow Sam, Ricky, and I had captured about twenty snaggle-snorts, a sort of wild pig that smelled really bad. We’d released them during a CNN live stream about one of the game’s new expansions. Ricky had gotten perma-banned for it, though he’d been back the next week with a different user ID.
Fucking Ricky, I thought, the memory suddenly turning sour. I shook my head. Asshole.
Poppy: So, if under normal circumstances, it’s impossible for these things to be here, then we know we’re on the right track. It has to be part of the quest.
Gretchen: Keep at it. If the quest hasn’t updated, then you haven’t yet discovered what you’re supposed to find.
Poppy: We’ll continue searching. I’ll keep you posted.
Gretchen: Okay. Be safe.
I grunted and dismissed the chat.
“Okay everyone,” I said, turning back to the group. “Listen up. We need to have a talk.”
The others looked at me with impassive eyes. Bingo stood straighter and crossed his arms, as if to say, I dare your ass to talk shit. I sighed.
“Only two of you did what you’re supposed to. Granger and Tiatha. Granger, good shooting. Tiatha, I’ve never seen faster healing.” Granger nodded. Tiatha did not, though I caught what looked like a very slight smile curl on her lips.
“What about me?” Vern asked, hefting his massive maul over his shoulder. “I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“No, I guess you did okay,” I said to the bloodied half-ogre. “But you’d be dead right now if Tiatha hadn’t healed you.”
The half-ogre grunted. “I could destroy Tiatha in battle.”
“Okay, buddy,” I said. “That has nothing to do with anything.”
I turned to Nale. “I can see you know a whole bunch of offensive spells, and you have a really deep reserve of mystic points. Feel free to step in when our guys are getting murdered.”
The auric huffed. “I was on lights! You wanted light, and I got you light!” He waved his hand about. “Keeping it this bright isn’t easy, you know.”
“So, what? You can only cast one spell at a time?”
Nale looked abashed. “Well, yeah.”
“Are you serious?”
“What? I’m an arcanist!”
Shit. That wasn’t normal. What the hell was up with that? I was starting to regret firing that asshole, Pritford. Most magic users could simulcast as many spells as they wanted as long as they had the mystic points for them. Half the tactics that made certain classes awesome, like harbingers, required the use of multiple spells in unison. Harbingers could cast Fleshmonger, which allowed them to wear the body of the recently-deceased and gain all their abilities and skills. It only lasted for a few minutes, depending on your level, but that was the whole challenge of playing magic-users, being able to resource manage your menus while running around a dungeon at the same time, being able to pull cool shit like that off.
I’d have to replace him. He seemed like a cool guy, but he was practically useless other than as a walking, talking flashlight. That meant I’d have to return to the mage guild, and I wasn’t looking forward to that. I’d have to deal with it after we got through this mess.
I focused on the other two half-ogres. One was named Lug and the other Jax. “I want you two assholes to hold up your right hands.” Then I looked at Bingo and Winston. “You know what, you guys also. I want all of you, everyone to hold up your right hands.”
They looked at each other and then me. Lug shrugged and put up his large, green hand, followed by Jax. Bingo sighed and did the same, followed by Winston. Soon everyone had their hands up, even Tiatha. I nodded.
“Okay, I want you guys to repeat after me.” I also put up my right hand. “I solemnly swear.”
A pause.
“Say it.”
“I solemnly swear,” they mumbled, out of unison.
“That I will hold my assigned position in battle.”
They repeated my words.
“And I won’t zerg rush the first monster I see. Nor will I trample, poison, or otherwise maim poor little Popper when we fight.”
Your War Chief skill has risen from 3 to 4.
They grumbled but repeated after me.
“Seriously, guys. We lost Critical because we were ambushed. That’s on me. But we need to maintain party discipline.” I pointed at Bingo. “Flaky is dead because you went fucking apeshit, and he followed you. We can’t split up. Tiatha can’t heal us if we’re not together. Next time we fight, listen to what I say, and do what I say. This isn’t every man for himself.”
“I am a woman,” Tiatha said. “An auric woman.”
“Or woman for herself,” I said. “Do you understand?”
Bingo met my eyes, and I knew I couldn’t look away. Jesus, he was scary. He held my gaze for several seconds.
“Understood,” he said finally.
“Thank you,” I said.
I pointed over my shoulder. “So now we got some magic-using asshole guarding a room down here. We know he’s probably from Orochi, which means he’s powerful as shit. He also knows we’re here, and he’s waiting for us. So we gotta be smart about this.”
* * *
I imagine if Jonah were here, he’d come up with some elaborate plan involving ninjas repelling from the ceiling while bombs went off in the demon’s hometown that would distract him long enough for Tiatha to cast some obscure spell that would make the demon slip and break his own neck. That was the Jonah way of dealing with uncertain odds.
I am not Jonah. Jonah prefers to use all the tools in the toolbox. Me, I like things simple. I just use the biggest hammer I have and start swinging. Sometimes finesse isn’t the best solution to a problem. Sometimes using the nine-foot-tall gorilla to break shit works best.
We didn’t know if the creature was a demon or a ghost. Both were possibilities, as they were the two big types of monsters from Orochi that would cast the spell that had almost killed Winston. Bingo believed it was a demon, so we went with that. If it was a ghost, we’d be in trouble. Physical attacks wouldn’t work.
We tiptoed the best we could through the carnage wrought by the three gorcupines. I knew it wouldn’t matter. The monsters in this game weren’t like the mobs from older games. They remembered. They were smart. That asshole in the room at the end of the hall knew we were coming, and he would be ready for us.
“There,” Bingo said, indicating a massive oak door that hung open at the end of the hall. I suspected this was the living quarters of the commander. I cringed as Nale’s sickly light reached the open door, announcing our presence to the creature within. An unsettling clicking noise rose from the room.
On my map, a single red dot appeared in the room.
“He’s casting a spell,” Granger hissed.
“Go,” I said to Bingo. “Go now.”
Bingo roared. We ran.
Despite my earlier insistence that we don’t bum rush the first monster we see, that was the plan here. I didn’t know if it was a good strategy, but in my experience, that was always the best way to deal with magic users. Get at them as quickly as you can. They can’t cast spells when you’re punching them in the face. It was an ugly plan, but it usually worked. Usually.
Bingo led the charge, Winston on his right, the maul-wielding Vern on the left. They’d surround and attack, overwhelming him while Granger pumped arrows into him. Jax and Lug would replace any fallen fighter, and I’d rush in with my axe and get a lick in if I could. I just needed one hit or player assist to share in the experience. I really needed to be in on the action if I wanted to level up, but I was worried about fighting such a powerful monster. He could split me in half with a flick of his wrist.
The moment I stepped into the room, I knew we were fucked.
This wasn’t a b
edroom like I had suspected, but a sort of planning chamber with a large, wide platform in the center. A miniature 3D map of Castellane lay scattered on the table. It appeared the white jackets kept an up-to-date model of the spiral here so they could plan their strategies.
Standing directly on top of this model was the reanimated corpse of Flaky the gorcupine. Six or seven more reanimated zombie turtle beasts also stood in the room, and they charged. My minimap, which had previously only shown a single red dot, now showed multiple.
Chaos erupted.
I tried to take the scene in. Winston and zombie Flaky grappled as the wooden model pieces flew. Bingo held a zombie turtle monster by the head and used the beast to beat down the other turtles. Vern had fallen once again, and he screamed as the undead turtles fell on him.
In the back, shadowy corner of the room stood the demon. It stood about six feet tall and wore a dark, seaweed-like robe that glistened in the odd light. Its pale, white face seemed to glow with its own luminescence. Three red eyes the size of tennis balls bulged on the otherwise-human-shaped face. Long, glimmering black hair waved about the creature, as if it floated under water. The demon had no mouth. I had the sense it was female, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
This was a necromancer. She had raised the previously-fallen monsters from the dead. An electric sense of power emanated from her. It was the same feeling I’d gotten from the demon of Icardi and the Black Devourer. The moment I saw her, I knew. This was no ordinary boss, but a major monster that had a pivotal role in the current world event.
I should have known. This was a world event quest, and it wasn’t supposed to be easy. We would not defeat this monster. Not now, not today. I doubted any of us would live past the next few moments.
The Hobgoblin Riot: Dominion of Blades Book 2: A LitRPG Adventure Page 15