by James Hunter
Though this wasn’t the first time I’d killed an NPC, seeing scarlet blood stain the man’s face made me feel ill. Offing undead shamblers and hulking Rat Kings didn’t hold a candle to killing men and women that looked so human, so real—it wasn’t murder, I knew intellectually, but it sort of felt like murder. Still, I couldn’t afford a crisis of conscience right now, so I jerked my weapon free and wheeled around, searching for another enemy.
A second later, a crippling flash of pain brought me to my knees as a dagger blade slipped into my side, wiping out over a quarter of my hit points in a single stroke. The sensation was like having a branding iron shoved into my kidney, then wiggled around. So that’s what it was like to be on the other end of the Backstab. Very unpleasant. I gasped as the blade slipped free—hot blood rolling down my side—but then, before I could even think about acting, the blade plunged down again, this time through my back and directly into my lung. A combat notification flashed as I wheezed for sweet, delicious air:
Debuffs Added
Punctured Lung: You have suffered a punctured lung; Stamina Regeneration reduced by 15% for 5 minutes.
The blade jerked free again, accompanied by another hot wash of blood. I knew he was going to stab me again, but this time I was ready for the move. I heard the whoosh of the blade and pitched forward, dropping flat onto my belly, then rolling onto my back despite the horrendous pain radiating along my spine and ripping at my side. The treacherous Cutthroat—a rather squat Wode, with a haggard face and thinning hair—stumbled forward, caught off guard by my unexpected maneuver.
I exploited the minor opening, jabbing the spiked top of my hammer straight up into his nether bits as I triggered Savage Blow. The man audibly gasped as he fumbled at his crotch—but I followed up with an Umbra Bolt for good measure, blasting his head from his shoulders with a sickening wet rip. Two down, three to go—not counting Georgie or those priests, still crying out their undulating chant in the background. With a heave, I crawled to my knees. I was almost back to my feet when another blade punched into my gut and a nondescript killer materialized in front of me.
Another fifth of my HP vanished right down the drain.
I clutched at the wound with one hand, and was completely unprepared as a second blade slammed into my neck, courtesy of a petite blonde Cutthroat with a puckered white scar running down one cheek. The brutal strike earned her a critical hit and knocked my HP down to a troubling 10 percent. On top of that, more debuff notifications popped up in the corner of my vision:
Debuffs Added
Bloodletting: You have sustained severe slashing damage; Health Regeneration reduced by 15% for 5 minutes.
Lingering Wound: You have sustained severe piercing damage; 1 HP/sec; duration 45 seconds.
Assassin’s Poison: You have been poisoned: 2 HP/sec; duration, 2 minutes or until cured.
Wow, these guys hit fast and hard.
I couldn’t fight them in a straight-up brawl—no way.
Speed and Stealth were my main assets, but these jerks had both of those in spades, plus I was outnumbered. The math was not in my favor, so I triggered Shadow Stride while I still could, and let out a sigh of relief as time ground to a halt. The pair of blades, piercing my body a moment before, simply slipped through me as I stood. I crept over to the far side of the room, taking my time since I had the benefit of added Health Regen while in the Shadowverse, then dropped into Stealth and waited patiently for the clock to run down.
Cutter was on the far side of the expansive room and Vlad was close by, still rooting through the shelves, which meant the coast was clear. As soon as time came lurching back into motion, I cast Umbra Bog on the thieves, then immediately launched Plague Burst, my hands flying through the complex motions while my wily opponents struggled to free themselves from the quagmire of goopy shadow. This time, they were out of luck. The toxic, yellow cloud seeped into the air a few seconds later, dealing massive Shadow Damage, then heaped on added Plague Damage like an underhanded kick to the shins.
The remaining thieves—tough as they might’ve been on offense—were absolute lightweights in the defense department. Plague Burst decimated their ranks like a wildfire in dry grass, and a few added Umbra Bolt spells from afar saw them all into early graves.
“It’s here,” Vlad called, thrusting a glowing vial high into the air, a fierce grin splitting his face. He looked like a kid who’d just won first prize in the science fair. Another lucky break. True, Cutter was still duking it out with Georgie, and I was in pretty pitiful shape, but overall things were really looking up. Since Vlad now had his ultra-rare quest ingredient, all we had to do was polish off Georgie and take out the four occult priests. It wouldn’t be easy, but it might just be doable.
I took a quick glance at Cutter and immediately winced. Our resident Rogue had managed to do some serious damage—the unofficial King of Thieves was now down to 50% Health—but Cutter looked about as terrible as I felt. The poor guy was bleeding out from a myriad of little nicks and cuts, which seemed to cover him from head to toe. He fought on valiantly, but he was dragging his left leg a little, and his right arm, his dominant arm, seemed just a tad slower than it should’ve been. Due, no doubt, to the long gash running across the front of his bicep.
“Just stay out of the way unless everything completely falls apart,” I yelled at Vlad as I sprinted past him, beelining to join the fray against Gentleman Georgie.
I was almost there when a thundercrack of power and a brilliant flash of light ripped through the air and stopped me dead in my tracks. When the light faded, the four priests were on the floor, unmoving, blood pooling around them like crimson halos: the loony idiots had slit their own throats. Meanwhile, the gigantic runic symbol on the floor had morphed into a swirling vortex of dark magic. Looking at that thing was like staring directly into the eye of a black hole. Except black holes were supposed to eat everything, and this one was actually vomiting something out into the world.
A pair of beef-slab arms—each one bigger around than I was—pebbled with arctic-blue skin and covered in wisps of gnarled yellow hair, were dragging a monstrous body into our plane of existence. A malformed head with a gorilla’s flat face and deformed jaws came next, followed by a thickly muscled torso and a pair of giant legs, covered in even more of the coarse yellow fur. I stared on in horror as the creature emerged completely and climbed to its feet, looming over everyone at a whopping fifteen feet tall. The thing was a cross between an arctic polar bear and the legendary Bigfoot.
A tag briefly popped up above its head, which really said everything that needed to be said. [Demonic Snow Yeti]. Yep, that was an apt description, alright.
The creature took one hasty look around the room, surveying the scene with beady black eyes like twin pieces of coal, then threw its head back and roared. The sound was as loud as a train’s whistle and shook the room—a few skulls, so carefully crammed into the walls, broke free and tumbled to the ground. The noise left me trembling in my boots. This was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Cutter was barely hanging on by a thread, I wasn’t much better off, and Vlad was all but worthless to the cause. On top of that, Gentleman Georgie still had some pep in his step and now we had a fifteen-foot-tall Demonic Yeti to fight.
Impossible.
After what felt like an eternity, the Yeti fixed its gaze squarely on me, dropped to all fours, and charged, running with a rolling, simian gait which literally rattled the floors with each and every step. Oh man, I was so screwed. A colossal fist, big as a truck tire, careened toward me with enough force to one-shot me for sure. I dove right, and threw myself flat—letting the blow skim right over the top of me—before frantically barrel-rolling left, over and over again. I narrowly avoided a crushing stomp, which left a crater in the earth, then scrambled back in retreat.
Distance was definitely my friend—
Or so I thought until the monster threw one massive mitt forward, releasing a hail of razor-sharp ice spikes, which looked more than capabl
e of impaling me clean through. I conjured a wavering defensive barrier, which saved my neck, but I still didn’t have a game plan. I stole a quick glance at Cutter—he was holding his own, but he was bleeding fiercely now, and his movements were slowing down by the second. Obviously, Georgie was the King of the Thieves for a good reason.
I dove beneath another onslaught of ice spikes when a lightning bolt of sheer inspiration struck.
What I really needed here was backup, and though Vlad was essentially useless, I had one companion just waiting to be used: my new Void Drake, Devil. Sure, he was still a level higher than me, which meant he might attack me instead of the Demonic Yeti, but at this point that was a risk I was willing to take. “Find something to hide behind!” I yelled at Vlad as I activated my Void Terror ability and summoned my minion from the Shadowverse. There was a pop of sooty smoke and in an eyeblink the monstrous lizard appeared in the middle of the room like a nightmare apparition given life.
Instead of immediately laying into the Yeti, Devil rounded on me—fixing me with a deathly glare as his tar-black lips pulled back in a snarl. I gulped, sure it was going to pounce, then the stupid Yeti smashed a fist right into Devil’s wing joint. The serpent rounded with a screech—completely forgetting me—and launched itself at the fur-covered monster. Devil’s talons ripped at the Yeti’s pebbly skin while his jaws slammed shut around one fur-covered bicep, drawing yellow blood that reeked of sulphur. The Yeti headbutted Devil, biting down on one of the Drake’s membranous wings.
A big part of me really, really, really wanted to watch the fight unfold, but Cutter and Georgie were the priority here. We needed to kill him to complete our end of the quest chain, and after that we could probably split if we really needed to. I downed a Health Regen potion, then triggered Shadow Step, darting across the room and positioning myself behind Georgie, who was frozen with a malicious snarl on his face, poised to drive his rapier straight through Cutter’s chest. Not on my watch, I thought as I disengaged Shadow Stride and laid into Georgie with my hammer, triggering Black Caress and Savage Blow in one massive attack.
My weapon landed like a meteor, blasting into Georgie’s face; the hit spun him around over and over again, before he dropped, his weapon flying free and clattering along the floor. Despite his shoddy physical condition, Cutter didn’t hesitate for a moment. He leapt onto the downed thief and sank both daggers directly into Georgie’s eyes, pinning his head to the floor. The Thief King’s body went rigid in shock, legs and arms hyperextended, and then, after one last final twitch and gurgle, he fell still.
I wanted to stand up and do a celebration dance at our victory, but we had a demon to worry about yet.
“Loot his corpse,” I yelled to Cutter, before wheeling around to see how Devil was faring in his first brawl. After such a hard-fought battle, I was pleasantly surprised to see the Drake was doing incredibly well. True, one of his wings had been torn entirely off, and huge furrows crisscrossed his hide, but he was alive and the Demonic Yeti was very nearly dead. Devil was currently wrapped around the hairy beast like some kind of mythical anaconda, his jaws latched in a death grip around the Yeti’s throat
The conjured Demonic Yeti beat at my pet, pounding at Devil with bone-breaking blows, but the Drake simply refused to let go. He constricted tighter and tighter, jaws sinking deeper into blue flesh. After another second, the Yeti’s attacks lessened then stopped altogether, its eyes taking on the glassy sheen of death. With its work done, I quickly unsummoned my Drake before he could unwind himself from the Yeti’s corpse and come after us—my minion disappeared in a poof of inky smoke just as he’d arrived.
“It is over?” Vlad called out, his head popping up from behind a shelf.
“Yeah,” I said, dropping to the ground, lying on my back as I stared up at the ceiling. I chuckled softly and ran shaky hands through my hair. “Yeah, it’s over,” I said again once my giggling fit passed. I couldn’t believe it—somehow we’d survived. “Alright, let’s loot this place for all it’s worth, find a way to set these prisoners free, then get the hell out of this dump.”
TWENTY-NINE:
Mop Up
After Cutter was patched up, our resident thief kindly picked the locks on the prisoner cells, setting the whole lot of them free, before we turned our attention on the dungeon. We’d really hit pay dirt. First, completing the Imposter Georgie quest chain had earned me a staggering 50,000 points of EXP, which pushed me up to level twenty-nine. Heck, combined with the points I’d scored from killing the thieves and taking out the Yeti, I was already a quarter of the way to thirty. The 5 Stat Points and the extra Proficiency Point were awesome, obviously, but the real victory was that I’d finally pulled even with Devil: I could now summon my minion without fear of him ripping me to shreds.
After seeing his first performance against the Yeti, I consider that a giant win.
And then, there was the loot to consider … All of Georgie’s lieutenants had been pretty high level and their gear reflected it. Most of the items had buffs tailored specifically for Rogue classes—bracers that added additional “Poison Blade” damage, for example, or a set of gloves with +15 to “Lock Picking”—but it was all good stuff, and I took it gladly. We had a whole army of lowbies to equip, after all, so this stuff was going into whatever passed for the Faction Armory. I also turned up a beefy battle-axe with a +5 Strength bonus, which dealt bonus cold damage.
I could probably sell it for a good profit, but for some reason, I couldn’t help but think of Forge—the former Marine from Texas—with his fighting spirit, but pitiful, rusted-out gear.
Strangely, Cutter passed over all the loot save for Gentleman Georgie’s elegant golden rapier, which he slipped into his belt with trembling hands and a look of reverence dancing across his face. He kept muttering, “this is certainly going to change things,” under his breath, but when I pressed him on it, he only shook his head and replied with a cryptic, “all in due time, all in due time.”
Unlike the dead thieves, the Demonic Yeti dropped some custom gear far more suitable for me and Vlad. The aspiring Weaponeer received the Robes of Azure Alchemy, which came with some hefty crafting bonuses and stat bumps. Naturally, he accepted them with stoic grace, but I could tell he was beaming with joy underneath the deadpan exterior. I scored a crown, crafted of worn yellow bone, bound together with gold, and studded with chunks of polished jade: an Ancient Artifact helm with some wickedly good stats, which was absolutely perfect for my character class.
Crown of the Jade Lord
Armor Type: Medium; Bone Helm
Class: Ancient Artifact; Set Item
Base Defense: 41
Primary Effects:
Vitality Bonus = .5 x Character Level
Dexterity Bonus = .5 x Character Level
15% Resistance to Blunt Trauma Damage
Secondary Set Effects:
+10 to all Resistances per/set piece worn
All Spell Costs are reduced by 20% (2 pieces)
+1 to Class Specific Skills (3 pieces)
The Crown of the Jade Lord is an ancient symbol of authority and power, forged from the bones and soul of Arzokh—one of the last great Dragons of the North.
The headgear was an incredible find—far better than my current Helm of the Owl with its +15% Night Eye boost—but there was something off-putting about it. Some oddity that tickled at the back of my memory, but which I couldn’t quite place my finger on. Plus, it felt a little pretentious and slimy to wear a crown, when I was literally leading a rebellion against a tyrannical king … well, in this case an emperor, but that was really just semantics. Regardless about how I felt, though, good gear was good gear, so I took off my old helm, added it to my bulging pack, and slipped on the new one.
The second I had the thing situated on my brow, a new quest alert popped up:
Quest Alert: The Jade Lord
Congratulations! You’ve found the Ancient Crown of the Jade Lord, the deposed ruler of the Nangkri Dynasty. Speak with the
Dark Conclave about the “Downfall” and show them the artifact.
Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret
Quest Difficulty: ?
Success: Speak with the Dark Conclave and show them the crown.
Failure: Lose or sell the Crown of the Jade Lord.
Reward: ?
Accept: Yes/No?
I read over the quest with intense interest, then accepted without hesitation—of course I wanted to learn more about the Downfall and whatever awesome quest came along with it. True, I had bigger things to worry about right now—like building my faction and the coming war against the entire Imperial Army—but I was still a gamer at heart, and the idea of partaking in some awesome adventure with uber-loot as a reward practically gave me shivers. By the time I dismissed the notification, Cutter padded toward me with a slim leather-bound notebook in one hand and a midnight-black dagger in the other.
The book didn’t look like anything too special—certainly no ancient arcane text bursting with secret spells—but that dagger was familiar.
It looked identical to the ceremonial blade Gentleman Georgie had shown us earlier: the one capable of ripping the soul from someone’s body. Cutter held the knife by the pommel with his thumb and forefinger, dangling it out in front of him like it was a dead animal he couldn’t stand to touch. “Think you should probably take a look at this, boss,” he said, thrusting both items toward me, eager to be rid of them. “I worked with Georgie for a long time,” he said offhandedly, “and the man always kept a hidden stash. This stuff was in a secret wall compartment behind the torturer’s rack.”