Clans War

by Mahanenko, Vasily

  “I have a couple acquaintances,” said Plinto, examining his manicure and stepping out of the shadows. “They live in your city. Nice people. Reliable people. The best people. My point being — maybe I should exit to reality too?”

  “Erm…what?” I asked, still stumped. Plinto was saying something, but the sounds just didn’t make sense in my head.

  “I’m saying there aren’t any strays around the corner. The Mages are all clustered in groups of five. You and I can’t handle one group like that…Pretty name by the way…‘Roxanne’…or was that just a handle?”

  “It’s a name like any other,” I grumbled, coming to my senses. “All right, I’ll take a look myself and we can figure out what to do later. There’s no one around the corner?”

  “It’s clear. Hang on, I’ll throw up a shroud of stealth.”

  A barely noticeable shimmer appeared around us. Plinto had activated one of the Rogue’s spells, granting stealth for other players in a certain area. Useful tool, but a bit unreliable. If even the hem of your shirt sticks out of the shroud’s AoE, the mobs will aggro you instantly. As a result the Rogue tried to use this spell in the most delicate of situations, and preferably only with individuals of the opposite gender. It’s nice when a girl has to press herself up to you…Damn! I had to talk to Anastaria immediately!

  Despite its odd location among the trees, the Dungeon’s layout was fairly canonical — a winding corridor hewn by some mysterious forces from sandstone, three meters wide by three meters tall and illuminated by smoldering torches. As soon as we turned the corner, we encountered a huge cavern, the far end of which vanished in murk. At the very edge of the visible space, I made out a massive throne of a dark material. I cursed to myself once again — Shamans can summon a Spirit of Far Sight, which would help me see the creature sitting on the throne. But someone (let’s not point fingers here, particularly at one careless Shaman) once again forgot to stop by his trainer and learn the summons available to him at his level. I still had the same two basic Spirits in my spellbook and slots that I’d received back in the mine — minor Spirits of Lightning and Healing. Would I have to resort to design mode again? Not an option — it would take too long.

  “Basically this is it,” Plinto summarized, nodding in the direction of the group of phantoms standing nearby. The five half-transparent figures — all Level 330 and wrapped head to toe in phantom shrouds — stood several meters from us beside a pile of Crastils. Leaning against their whimsical staffs, the Mages were staring at the orbs like they were trying to hypnotize them.

  “Five is too much for you?” I asked just in case, already knowing the answer.

  “If they were at Level 300, it’d be worth a shot,” Plinto admitted honestly. “But here, I’d have to deal with each one separately — my mass spells won’t affect them. They’re immune. I can’t handle five — you’ll have to heal me and, as a result, take damage from the ones to the side. Their dps isn’t scary to me, but they’d eat you alive.”

  “How many can you take at once?”

  “Two for certain. Three…Yeah, I could do three too. The fourth is a question mark and the fifth is definitely on you. You didn’t stop by your trainer, did you?” Plinto hit me where it hurt. “So you don’t have mind control. All right, there are several options…”

  “Maybe Thunderclap?” I interrupted Plinto. “I’ll turn into a Dragon and freeze them all to hell.”

  “Uh-huh. What’s the AoE on your Thunderclap? About forty meters? In a minute I can kill ten, maybe twenty phantoms. But there’s more than a metric crap-ton of them here. What are we going to do with the others? The ones your Thunderclap aggroes? That’s what I’m talking about…Like I was saying, there’s two options here. No, three. The first is we go to Anhurs and you learn some normal Spirit summons. We come back and it’s Shaman time. Mind control and all that good stuff. The second option is we say the hell with it all and get into a fight. We can figure out what’s what once we’re in it. The third is I step aside while you blow this entire place to Kingdom Come. We pick up the loot and go home happy.”

  “Erm…What are you on about?” I asked, puzzled by the last bit.

  “I’m on about you, Shaman Mahan! You’re the guy who slew Geranika. Wiped out an army of players. Caught a Squidolphin. Married Anastaria. In game, at least. By the way, when are you going to invite me to the wedding?”

  “What wedding? Have you seen what’s going on with her? Stacey’s generally been crazy this last week. Either she’s giggling without any reason or she’s sad or she’s quarreling with her dad.”

  “You’re a big boy. You should know that women get this way once a month,” Plinto smirked.

  “If only! She’s fine in that department. Nothing’s going on there at all.”

  “Mmm…” Plinto drawled ambiguously. “Nothing going on, you say…Ho hum. Generally crazy, you say…Well, well.”

  “What do you mean ‘well, well?!’ What do you mean, ‘ho hum?’” I exclaimed, growing irritated. “You’re laughing but I have to go home and listen to a lecture about how harmful smoking is in public places!”

  “Oh my poor darling. Everyone’s so mean to him, no one loves him, everyone just wants money from him,” Plinto was openly laughing at me, shaking his head and tisking. “And his wife’s at home, waiting for him with a battledore.”

  “With a what?” I grimaced, hearing an unknown word.

  “What an uncivilized child you are — don’t you know basic things? A battledore! It’s like a piece of wood. An implement for manually increasing the localized level of education. A very useful thing in your case. I should recommend one to Stacey. All right, experience is the child of difficult mistakes. You have some phantoms to deal with, so don’t relax. In a word, I’m for the third option. So — well — oops!”

  The shroud of stealth protecting us vanished. With a smug look on his face, Plinto went into stealth and dashed back up the corridor, managing to wave at me from behind his back as he did so. I turned around and gaped — five phantoms stood a step away from me. Their shrouds turned to reveal scowling skulls whose hollow eye-sockets — to my utter horror — began to fill with fog.

  Red fog.

  My hands began to move on their own, not waiting for orders from my shocked brain. They pulled my long-forgotten tambourine with its mallet from my bag and a monotonous rhythm resounded through the cave: Boom…Boom…

  The Shaman has three hands…

  …and behind his back a wing…

  -50 to Reputation with all Kalragon factions.

  +10 Reputation with the Lord of Shadow.

  I didn’t have any Spirits. That was a fact. I had Shadows. That was a fact too. My reputation with the Emperor and the Dark Lord would be wiped out in a few days anyway when the tournament started — I’d go from Exalted to Friendly status. So there was nothing to lose.

  Except for the fetters restricting me!

  From the heat upon his breath

  Shining candle-fire springs…

  “D-E-E-E-A-A-ATH,” sounded a drawn out whisper that resembled relief more than threat, and the five phantoms beside me spiraled up into the air like smoke. And yet I was totally sure that the dps from my Shadows was laughable.

  Quest updated: ‘In search of the truth.’ 5 of 314 phantoms expelled from Barliona.

  My tambourine fell silent. Lifting my head, I couldn’t contain a deep sigh — a vast crowd of phantoms stood all around me. They stood there quietly, as if they were relishing my momentary triumph — right before tearing me to little pieces. Damn it! Would I be sent to respawn after all? I definitely wouldn’t be able to handle all of them.

  “GRANT US DEATH, SERVANT OF THE FOE!” As if to demonstrate that I have no idea what’s going on with the quests around here, a Mage that looked markedly different from the rest stepped out of the crowd. Instead of a shroud, he was wearing a luxurious robe from which one bony hand decked out in rings reached out toward me. A massive chain with a dark stone that look
ed more like an abyss than a stone let me know quite clearly that I was speaking with Feeris, the High Mage of Anhurs.

  “GRANT US DEATH, SER…THE FOE HIMSELF!!!”

  I don’t know how the Corporation programmers manage it, but what followed was pretty spectacular — the indomitable Level 300+ phantoms started away from me in terror like vampires from sunlight. Even Feeris, an advanced Mage, took several steps back. I looked on in puzzlement — until Geranika’s pensive voice behind my back let me know that it wasn’t me who had startled the phantoms.

  “Mmm…yeah…So there I am sitting in my castle, contemplating my next plan for taking over the world when all of a sudden — someone’s using my Shadows. And not just kind of here and there, but quite confidently, with self-assurance, panache — in a word with a complete understanding of what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. And he’s doing it in a place that has the status of ‘kill any trespassers first and ask questions later.’ Shaman, you never cease to surprise me! I’d never imagine that you would be the one.”

  “That’s how it worked out. Is this your doing?” I nodded over at Feeris and his gang.

  “Are you talking about the phantoms? My grandfather hadn’t even been born when they were sacrificed. But they definitely were sacrificed to Shadow. And yet, they weren’t here the last time I stopped by this place. Which begs the important question: ‘What the hell?’”

  “Surprise!” I drawled with a note of sarcasm. “You’re only a runner-up! Someone was using Shadow before you? Will you release them?”

  “Me?!” Geranika hiked his eyebrows in surprise. “Mahan, when did you decide I was charitable? You dug them up, you should send them to Erebus yourself. My dear fellow,” Geranika turned to Feeris, “will you be so kind as to tell us your story? It would be very curious to hear who is behind this. And after that, Mahan can kill you lot. Correct?”

  Quest updated: ‘In search of the truth.’ Description: Listen to the story of Feeris, the High Mage of Anhurs and afterward banish the phantoms from Barliona.

  Attention! Using Shadows to complete this quest will incur a penalty of -15950 Reputation with all factions of Malabar and Kartoss. Make the right choice.

  “I’ll think of a way to banish them,” I agreed, accepting the quest. Something tells me that Shadows aren’t the only way to solve the problem of the phantoms. Otherwise the reward of thirty levels would be really pricey.

  “WE BELIEVE YOU, FOE AND SERVANT OF THE FOE!” roared Feeris and began to tell a highly fascinating story from Barliona’s past…

  Once upon a time, there lived a Hunter named Karmadont, an ordinary person who thirsted for power like no one else. He constantly tried to sneak into the palace to no avail — the guards tossed him headfirst time after time. Eventually the Hunter began losing his mind — unable to attain the Imperial throne, Karmadont began to don a crown that he’d fashioned from whatever was at hand. He began to take self-important walks through the capital. As if he really were the Emperor. Everyone looked on in contempt, figuring him for some fool. He didn’t cause any harm and he made the citizens laugh. Feeris was only a Mage adept back then and he would often give Karmadont money for food to keep the Hunter from starving. No one paid any attention when the Hunter vanished; people had enough problems of their own to worry about the town fool. Ancient human civilization was pretty disjointed as it stood. There were dozens of empires and kingdoms, all of which fought with one another over scraps of land that had been generously granted to the humans by the Elves or the Minotaurs or the Dwarves or other ‘ancient’ races. Even the Tarantulas only viewed humans as nourishment in the most extreme of cases — the brief human lifespan didn’t permit enough time for their Souls to fill properly with the Barliona energy that the eight-legged rulers hungered for. For the Tarantulas, humans were like hay is to cows on a sunny day in the center of a grassy meadow — sure you could eat them, but why would you when there are Elves, Minotaurs, Titans…? Human Souls were an acquired taste.

  Several years after Karmadont’s disappearance, a black cloud appeared and wiped out several cities. Fifty years later the cloud appeared again, then again after another fifty, each time taking a terrible toll. Even the Tarantulas hadn’t done as much damage to the humans as this dark scourge. Thus began the endless search. The Mages’ towers took up their present-day positions — the northernmost point of every city where they could be the first to meet the black cloud. Feeris, who had by then become the High Mage of Anhurs set forth to find a means of salvation.

  They found a cave. Within it, surrounded by Crastils, they found an alabaster throne — and in it Lait — an alien being, charred past recognition. Only the odd inhalation and exhalation suggested that this creature was still alive. In his hands he held a stone in the shape of a heart — the Ergreis. Feeris followed his orders diligently. Having carefully studied the figure without touching it, he recorded the information he had gleaned onto a crystal and sent it to Anhurs with a Mage. As soon as the portal closed behind the messenger, Feeris crossed a hitherto invisible boundary, approaching the Mage. The Ergreis had to be studied.

  A malevolent laughter filled the cave. Karmadont stepped out of the shadows. The same village idiot who had hundreds of years ago wandered around Anhurs. Time had not altered him — he was the same ebullient young man. Only his laughter boded nothing good to the Mages.

  Their magic did nothing against Karmadont — he absorbed everything as though he was a minion of the Tarantulas. Their portal spells ceased to function and then Karmadont sacrificed everyone. But not to his Rulers — he sacrificed them to the unknown god of another world. The sacrifice gave him the strength to cross the protective barriers around Lait, but there wasn’t enough time — Karmadont barely touched the Ergreis when something threw him away. Twelve Mages only managed to hold him for a second.

  Karmadont did something with the throne and Shadows began to pour from it. The Hunter was drinking them in. He vanished, leaving the phantoms by the throne — the god of the other world hadn’t accept the sacrifice. For whatever reason, they wanted the Ergreis. Karmadont lured another 302 Mages to the cave and then did the same thing to them as he had to Feeris, sacrificing them. Then the protective barrier collapsed completely, allowing the Hunter to snatch the crystal from Lait’s hand. At this point, Feeris’s memory ended — their essences began to be drawn away by another world’s god. What happened after this and why they again returned to the cave, Feeris didn’t know. By the time they returned, the Alabaster Throne had vanished — Lait, still living albeit pierced by his own staff was sitting on a black stone that resembled a throne. Various creatures would periodically find their way into the cave, but they couldn’t do anything to the phantoms. Locked in the cavern, the phantoms were stumped until I appeared and began to destroy them with the same power that had possessed the Alabaster Throne.

  “Okaaay,” Geranika drawled pensively when Feeris had fallen silent. “Let’s assume I’ll be able to explain why they returned — the throne is in my possession and the earlier covenant with the foreign god was broken. But how did Karmadont manage to activate it? A mystery…Mahan, do you have any Bard friends? We could summon Karmadont’s Spirit.”

  “Bards?” I echoed stunned. “What do Bards have to do with this?”

  “Okay, I see. Then everything’s clear to me here,” Geranika summarized, hesitated, twisted his head here and there, weighing all the pros and cons and then simply evaporated. The Lord of Shadow had decided that everything that would happen here now wasn’t worth his time. I get the impression that Geranika’s changed since the Cataclysm. And I’m not sure whether it’s for the better or for the worse. At least I could make deals with him earlier. Nowadays he’s too withdrawn, occupied with his thoughts, and never wants to chat.

  “WE HAVE PERFORMED OUR PART OF THE BARGAIN, SHAMAN! GRANT US DEATH!” Feeris roared, yanking me from my contemplation of the Lord of Shadow’s behavior.

  “Is Lait still here?” I asked, buying time and feveri
shly racking my brain for some way out of this situation that didn’t involve a penalty.

  “YES! IN THE HEART OF THE CAVE! WE HAVE PERFOR…”

  “Wait!” I interrupted the phantom. I’d like to see him before throwing Shadows at you lot. What if he vanishes along with you? I’d like to know what happened between your disappearance and reincarna…er…reappearance. I’m sure he’ll know.”

  There was no objection, so I headed into the center of the cave. If I told people, they wouldn’t believe me. Instead of embroiling myself in an epic battle involving multiple respawns, I’m planning on leveling my Reputation to its foundations — basically to Friendly status! And all of this is happening without me being able to…Oh sweet Tartarus!

  A big thanks to Barliona for not including the quite natural bodily function of showing off the contents of one’s stomach to others…Lait looked horrible! The King from my Chess Set was basically unrecognizable amid the hunk of charred flesh on the black throne-stone. As I was approaching, I thought that a normal person was sitting on the throne — though perhaps with some burn wounds — but with every step, new nightmarish details struck my eyes. Lait had no legs. Or arms. It was like his torso had been gnawed, revealing pieces of bone and internal organs to my sight. A single eye remained of the face’s typical features. His entire body was covered with a thick dark crust, his skin burned past recognition. A long staff was impaled through Lait’s chest, but despite his overall shocking appearance, this being was still alive! The Death Knight was breathing! Slowly, with a wheezing, yet he breathed! The developers were a really sick bunch!

  Heeding a sudden urge, I grabbed the staff and ripped it out of the creature’s chest. A white liquid sprayed out with it, a moan resounded throughout the cave and a heap of debuffs collapsed on my avatar — everything from Stun, to Blindness to Nausea. Everything began to waver before my eyes, my consciousness began to fade, dissolving in the white fog, and then the image of a healthy and living Lait appeared before me — with a loading bar over his head. Barliona had launched this scenario for the first time. And did so on the fly. The loading bar hit 100%, blinked, and the world regained its volume spawning me under a protective magic dome…