by Edwin McRae
Your party has slain three Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.
XP reward per party member = 22 XP
The undead officer seemed content to watch from the edge of the chasm, his blank eyes taking in the executioner’s brutal efforts with cold detachment.
Mark turned to see that the two flanking groups had stopped and formed up in neat lines. Spears were raised in perfect unison, and judging by their angle, Mark knew where they were aiming.
“Braemar!” he yelled as he pointed at the spearmen. “Quagmires!”
No response. Braemar was flat on his back. Vari held his head with one hand while she poured an essence potion into his open mouth with the other.
“Variiiiii!” yelled Mark, his voice a chromatic slide from bass to tenor.
Vari looked up in alarm, saw Mark, and then her eyes widened even further when she saw the rows of spears and soldiers. “Sculpt Bone!” she shouted, three times in succession, snapping a trio of shin bones.
At the same time, Mark rushed the closest line of spearmen. He roared “Ignited Exhalation!” and felt the scorching wave of heat as it gushed out of his mouth. Flames swept across the line of mummified men and they went up like match wood. But not before their icy discipline saw their task through, launching half a dozen burning spears into the air.
Across the square, another wave of missiles took flight, minus the three whose owners were struggling and failing to stand on broken limbs. Vari’s mouth made a perfect ‘O’ as she watched the deadly rain tumble down upon her. Braemar seemed to be recovering. He slowly rose to his feet, his hands rubbing at his eyes, utterly oblivious to the threat above.
Behind him, Arix had finished off the last of the soldiers and was moving on to the officer.
Your party has slain three Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.
XP reward per party member = 22 XP
Nearby, Mark heard sparking and crackling as the row of burning soldiers collapsed.
Your party has slain six Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.
XP reward per party member = 45 XP
“Mind over Matter,” said Mark as he followed one of the spears with his eyes. He imagined it twisting like a march leader’s baton in the air. The spear obeyed, somersaulting into its neighbors, knocking them off course. They clattered down around Vari. She was crouched down, arms over her head, making herself as small a target as possible. Other spears thudded headfirst into the dirt to her left and right.
But that was just one flight of spears. The others fell like burning rain. The clattering and thudding almost covered the sound, the sickening crunch, of a single spear driving into Braemar’s eye and out through the back of his skull. A second spear skewered his thigh. A third impaled him through the chest. Mark knew the latter two didn’t matter. Vari could fix a thigh, probably even patch up a punctured heart if she got to it fast enough. But nothing could bring the light back to Braemar’s remaining eye.
He vaguely registered the yawp of triumph as Arix took the officer’s legs out from under it and sent its rotting body plummeting into the chasm.
Your party has slain Captain Kren, a Level 5 Necrofficer.
XP reward per party member = 16 XP
Please note that your party now consists of three members.
Mark ran over to Vari, planted his boots and cut down one charging corpse soldier after another. He didn’t look back, neither at Vari nor Braemar, as he strode over to the incapacitated deadmen and sent them back into the dirt where they belonged.
Your party has slain six Level 3 Corpse Soldiers.
XP reward per party member = 60 XP
Only when he was done, when there was nothing left to kill, did he lower his sword and shamble like a dead man himself to the corpse of his former friend.
10
[Arix]
Your party has slain Captain Kren, a Level 5 Necrofficer.
XP reward per party member = 16 XP
Please note that your party now consists of three members.
Correction, thought Arix. I slew Captain Kren, thank you very much. Sure, Arix admitted, the others distracted a few corpse soldiers so I could bash the necrofficer without interference, but that was hardly worth an equal share of the spoils, was it?
It was a point he’d raised in one of his YouTube shows, a call for RPG developers to get more granular with their XP systems. He was still rather proud of the title too. “The Massacre Meritocracy”. It was a subject he was going to bring up again as soon he got out of this Easter Egg.
He tried not to think of all the money he was losing in his online absence. Nor how much Krissy would be freaking out about her comatose boyfriend. His FIVR life support was top notch and paid up for the year. He wasn’t going to die in here, at least not literally, so there was no point in stressing himself out. It would only make it harder for him to find a way to log off.
Karina was the most likely option. She had made the door and lured him over the threshold. Clever bint she’d been too. In-game popups promising never-before-seen exclusive content, stuff that his fans would lap up like thirsty doggies. Well, the actual wording had been “Follow your destined path to the fateful door. Prove your worth to one and all. Glory to the Great.” Typical fantasy RPG bollocks that literally meant, “Get your Easter Egg while it’s hot!” At least, that’s what he’d assumed.
Hopefully Karina could just as easily shove him back through that ‘fateful door’ and slam the fucking thing behind him. But getting to her meant wading through a couple of hundred reivers. That sergeant of hers wasn’t to be underestimated either. He would have to do some serious leveling and looting before he was ready for that bloodbath.
He took a deep breath, raised his hand to wave the notifications away, and noticed the “Please note...” line for the first time. He glanced up to where he and Mark had set their resurrection points. Nothing there. He sighed and turned to look back across the battlefield. There was Mark and his AI fuck buddy, crouching over Brayden’s spear-skewered body.
Braemar, he corrected himself. That was lucky. He’d have come across as a right wanker if he’d gotten the dead NPC’s name wrong.
Arix paused to check that nothing else was going to crawl up out of the pit and took a moment to mourn the loss of Captain Kren’s gear. A polish like that surely meant magic. He picked up the necrofficer’s severed legs, pulled the steel cuisses and greaves off and shook out a few shreds of rotting flesh. They were light but looked like they could take some serious punishment.
Kren’s Tempered Cuisses
25% reduction to damage sustained to the upper leg.
25% chance to prevent all damage to upper leg.
15% reduction in upper leg muscle fatigue.
+10% to knee attacks.
“I don’t care if you’ve got balls of rock. I’ve got a knee of forged steel.”
- Captain Kren of the Imperial Guard
Kren’s Tempered Greaves
25% reduction to damage sustained to the lower leg.
25% chance to prevent all damage to lower leg.
15% reduction in lower leg muscle fatigue.
+10% to kick attacks.
“They say not to kick a man when he’s down. What a wasted opportunity.”
- Captain Kren of the Imperial Guard
Arix donned his prizes then leaned over the edge of the chasm and snapped a salute at the murky darkness below.
“Thanks for that, Kren. ”
Then hoping the worst of the weeping and wailing was over with already, Arix headed for Mark, Vari and the deceased Brayden. Braemar, he corrected and slapped his own face. Brayden was his sister’s ex-boyfriend, a skinny ginger boy from Brighton. Nice guy. Way too nice for Venus.
He stopped short of the mourning pair and winced at the spear sticking out of the dead druid’s face.
A quick death, at least. Hold on, what was he saying? A quick death? He tried to wipe his own frustration from his face with his hand. This Easter Egg was getting under his skin. Before him lay an NPC.
It had ceased to function. Its script was done and its animations were frozen. Just like everything else in this world, from corpse soldiers to the gore-spattered rocks, Braemar was a nifty bit of code, nothing more.
He cleared his throat. “Look, sorry about Braemar, guys. I know he was your mate and all, but we should really be going.” He scanned the ruins above them, searching for watchers. “It weren’t exactly a quiet battle. Someone or something is bound to have noticed, and here we are, out in the open, sitting ducks for anyone with a spear to chuck at us. Brayden would testify to that, yeah?”
“Which is it?” asked Mark, his voice soft and hoarse. His eyes were rimmed with red.
“Which is what?”
“Which is it? Braemar or Brayden?”
Arix mentally kicked himself. “Braemar. Fuck, sorry. I’ve never been good with NPC names.”
It was Vari’s turn to look at him with bleary eyes. Her cheeks were moist with tears. “Why do you keep calling us that?”
He sighed in frustration. “Can we not do this here?”
Vari rested her hand on Braemar’s leg. “We’re not leaving him like this.”
The figurist was never going to understand. She was a scripted character with no more consciousness than Captain Kren. Arix gave Mark his best pleading look, the one he used when he wanted fans to click on one of his affiliate links.
“Mate, come on. You know how this all works.” He pointed at Braemar’s boots. Judging by the fine leatherwork and their ‘good as new’ condition, they were magical items of some sort. “Take those boots and let’s get the fuck out of here before we lose our healer too.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed and their rims grew a little redder. “Yeah, I know how this all works, and you have no fucking idea.”
Arix resisted the urge to slap some sense into the guy. He was balls deep in this virtual world. So deep, in fact, that he’d lost sight of the horizon. He’d heard of people going ‘native’ in FIVR, or at least trying to. They wanted to believe in the fiction so badly that they ended up losing the plot entirely. If he could find a way out, and take Mark with him, he would even consider funding his RL therapy. ‘Arix the Damned rescues fellow gamer from RL dislocation.’ Yeah, it’d make for a great headline and a shit-ton of channel views.
“Alright, do what you got to, mate.” Arix unclipped his crossbow and checked that he had two bolts locked and loaded. “I’ll patrol the area, make sure you don’t get jumped while you’re paying your respects.” While you’re being a fucking fruitcake, he managed not to add.
Mark nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, yeah.”
As Arix struck out for one of the taller buildings, a pair of notifications materialized at the edge of his vision.
Your party has failed the Cracks in Reality subquest.
Special Requirement Lost: Without a Druidic Elementalist specializing in Earth Magic, the Chasm of Corruption Quest is unachievable and has been removed from the quest log.
Arix smiled to himself. It looked like the game had as much time for faux sentimentality as he did. He shook his head. Fucking roleplay. Just a recipe for psychosis that was. The next notification made him smile even more.
Congratulations!
You have reached Level 7 as an Executioner.
Progress to next level = 1052/1700
You have been awarded 2 Attribute Points.
You now have access to Level 7 Executioner abilities.
It didn’t matter how many times he leveled up, in however many games, he still felt that little rush of pride and excitement. And new skills and abilities were like new toys on his birthday.
Ability Selection
Bloody Retribution (10 EP)
Righteous Rage (10 EP)
Bloody Retribution
Reflects 50% of damage taken onto the damage dealer.
Base casting cost = 10 EP
Tier 1: The reflected violence effect remains in place for 10 seconds.
“Violence, like song,
is more fun when it’s shared.”
- Ezok the Butcher
Righteous Fury
Increases damage dealt by 100%.
Increases damage taken by 50%.
Base casting cost = 10 EP
Tier 1: Righteous Rage remains in place for 10 seconds.
“Vent your fury before it eats you alive.”
- Ezok the Butcher
Arix decided he liked this ‘Ezok the Butcher’ geeza and dropped both attribute points into Spirit to make the most of his brutal new skills.
By this time he’d reached the tallest of the buildings. He clipped his crossbow to his back and scaled the ornate frontage, as quick and limber as a monkey. Yes, he could’ve gone inside and found a staircase, but Arix prefered to develop his Climbing and Acrobatics skills whenever possible. It was paying off too. He could feel his body growing more confident, internalizing the moves. He probably wasn’t far off Tier 3 at this rate.
He clambered up onto the roof and took in the view. This building was a couple of storeys taller than most of those around it, and the vista it afforded Arix was nothing short of magnificent. Crumbling buildings and worn statues, dusty avenues and wind-swept courtyards. There wasn’t much vegetation around, and what was there looked warped and stunted. The developers had carried this ‘corruption’ theme right through their whole design.
Arix wondered if they’d be cruel enough to add some sort of ambient corruption effect to the city. An insidious AoE that would eat away at his avatar, twisting and knotting the strings of its code until he turned into some virtual freak. It was enough to send a shiver down his spine. The reivers had muttered to each other about things like that, how the Barrens were tainted with sickness, how many a reiver expedition had disappeared in this city without a trace. One soldier had been stupid enough to voice that opinion in air shot of Karina. The man had wailed like a baby as the inquisitor proceeded to ‘cleanse his mind’ of such troubling thoughts.
Arix looked up at the sun, felt the warmth on his face, and let the chilling vision melt away. He’d been in these Barrens for a few days already and suffered neither a blemish nor a pimple. Surely, if there was a corruption mechanic in place, he’d have grown a tentacle out his ass by now.
Down below, Mark and Vari were constructing a makeshift stretcher from spears and breastplates. Arix glanced at the mountains and shook his head. He hoped they weren’t planning to carry Braemar’s dead weight all the way back to this ‘Garland’ of theirs. Judging by Vari’s physique, her Body score wasn’t that crash hot. Mark would try to rope him into stretcher-bearing duties. He sighed, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to play along. The alternative was that he’d have to go after Karina by himself. Not impossible, but it’d be easier with a healer like Vari to back him up. Then he could spend his EP on offensive abilities rather than bucketloads of Justice Prevails.
He took a moment to scrutinize the area, watching for movement. The place was as quiet as a crypt. Other mobs were likely programmed to steer clear of the area so that the corpse soldier experience wouldn’t get muddied by randoms. He sat on the rim of the roof, dangling his legs over the edge. Watching Mark and Vari work together made him miss Krissy even more. Mark was bent over the stretcher, buckling up straps. Beside him, Vari reached over and rubbed the nape of his neck, running her finger tips up under the curly locks at the base of his skull. It was such a comforting gesture that Arix felt genuinely touched by the scene. It reminded him of the lazy Sunday morning he and Krissy had spent in the flat before he’d dived back into Reign of Blood and ended up here. Still in their PJs, they’d sipped coffee and basked in the bay window as the sun streamed in.
He had to get the fuck out of this Easter Egg, and when he did, he was going to sue the shit out of the Reign of Blood developers for this whole ‘no logoff’ nightmare. He’d been in here far too long for it to be a glitch. It was some weird-assed experiment. Mark might be happy to play the gu
inea pig but he sure as fuck wasn’t having it.
Fury swelled within him and the ruins took on a cold and flat appearance. Arix the Damned was out for blood. Mark and his virtual pet were going to help. Karina was going to send him back into ‘logoff land’ or experience the wrong end of a branding iron. Torture wasn’t Arix’s thing, but in Karina’s case, the ends would justify the means.
He stood, stretched and began his descent across the neighboring buildings, leaping from jagged wall top to fractured colonnade, broken balcony to sundered archway. He dropped down into the parade ground and rolled with the momentum. He luxuriated in each movement, feeling every inch the apex predator.
He curtailed his smile as he stalked across the cobblestones to where Mark and Vari had finished their stretcher and laid Braemar upon it. Instead, he put a suitably solemn expression in place. Today he was their sympathetic ally. Tomorrow they were going to help him whether they wanted to or not.
11
[Mark]
They took Braemar back to Citadel via the waypoint. The next morning, as the sun rose over the mountains, the villagers gathered with Mark and Vari to bury him.
Mark chose a site overlooking the quarry, with a lovely view up to the mountain peaks. Calder and a couple of his miners dug the grave while the rangers wrapped Braemar’s body in cloth, as was the Garland tradition. Then the rangers lowered him into the grave while the senior ranger, Meredith, recited the Garland burial rights. Calder and his miners filled in the grave while Mark and Vari set a headstone in place. The headstone was made from a piece of limestone, carved by the wind and rain into a graceful shape. A bronze plaque, forged by Citadel and embedded into the base of the stone by Calder, provided a fitting eulogy.