It was all very well asking us to watch out, I thought, with a pang of irritation. Raitha was the eagle and I had a problem with what I could see. Being low to the ground and busy with an angry dark elf obscuring most of the world in front of me, I could only manage quick glances to either side. Really, it was up to my friend to fix the problem by tagging the stray dark elf as soon as he could.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Tuscl, can you stand by, ready to kite that rogue if he comes here?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Will do.’
After a tense few minutes, I began to relax. The loose mob hadn’t shown up. It seemed he wasn’t coming our way. And this was confirmed almost at once.
[Channel Rescue] ‘I see him!’ exclaimed Raitha happily. ‘He’s nearly back in the village. He’s going to be a single pull when you are finished with the other two.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘That reminds me of a bad joke.’ So pleased was I with this news, I broke my own channel rule. ‘What do you call a slice of cheese that has been separated from the other slices?’
No one answered.
[Channel Rescue] ‘An easy single!’
No one laughed either.
It suddenly occurred to me that maybe only Ireland had Easi Single cheese slices and I hadn’t made any sense. Oh well, my good humour was soaring all the same, lame joke or not. We had the triple pull beaten. That was an impressive achievement given the massive disparity in levels.
A few minutes later and the dark elf warrior and cleric were dead. Then, without any difficulty, we pulled the rogue and I kept the aggro until we could all crowd around and take him down. One group to go! Admittedly, a real challenge, eight dark elves, with a level 62 among them. Having passed out the armour drops and a potion of Healing, I called for quiet in the raid channel.
[Channel Rescue] ‘We are going to move up to the village for this last group of eight. Raitha, let us know where to stop. Then we will face three scenarios. One, I talk to them and they leave. That’s probably too good to be true, but it has worked already on some ogres. Secondly, they all attack me, and I can draw them far enough away from the village for our friends to log in. Thirdly, they attack but don’t chase me. Then Verida tries to tag one to kite while I keep the rest occupied. Any questions?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Glarinson here. How will Onvorg and the others know when to log in?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Good question. Do you know them?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘A little.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Can you unclip and briefly alert them to how we are doing? Braja, a friend of mine, went to warn them earlier, so they should be standing by. Then you can call them in when the opportunity arises.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Sure. Unclipping now.’
While we waited for the dwarven warrior to return, a chat was signalled by Borthar. I took it.
[Channel Borthar/Klytotoxos] ‘Hello Tyro.’
[Channel Borthar/Klytotoxos] ‘Hi.’
[Channel Borthar/Klytotoxos] ‘Mr Watson says well done and to take your time; he will meet you after the raid. And he would like to know if there is anything else you need? Would you like any more players to participate in your raid?’
[Channel Borthar/Klytotoxos] ‘Certainly, the more the merrier. We are on the path just south of the village of Middlehampton.’
[Channel Borthar/Klytotoxos] ‘I shall arrange to get the other players there as soon as possible.’
Although I had agreed to the suggestion of more players joining the raid, they probably wouldn’t make much of a difference to whether we could clear the village long enough for our blocked players to spawn and escape. From a longer-term point of view, though, I was happy for the raid to grow in size and to become used to working with each other. And, if I was being honest, it wasn’t just about that. Stripping Blackridge of players from his unsuccessful raid gave me a distinct feeling of satisfaction.
With the return of Glarinson, our entire raid moved northwards, Raitha turning slow circles high above, sometimes visible as a silhouette against the two moons. The silvery landscape should have been a friendly one, with helpful NPCs living in the cottages we were passing, lights shining from their homes and lanterns onto the path. Yet the buildings were abandoned, with black windows that looked out at us like sorrowful eyes. Even the forest seemed reluctant to come too close to these silent, thatched buildings, for the trees here were widely spaced and young.
Our route ran past the entrance to a small wooden church whose grounds were marked by a low wattle-and-daub fence. This was where Raitha told us to halt. [Channel Rescue] ‘Those next two buildings ahead of you are the southern end of the village high street,’ he explained, ‘a blacksmith and a bowyer’s. Once you pass them, you’ll be seen by the dark elves.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘So should we set up here and kite around the church fence perhaps? If that proves necessary.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘That, I’m sure, would work well,’ said our eagle thoughtfully.
[Channel Rescue] ‘All right, everyone take a position in the church grounds, Verida and Tuscl follow me part way. If we have a battle on our hands, I’ll try to bring the fight to the back of that bowyer’s place. You can then tag one of them to run around the church.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Understood,’ replied Tuscl.
This seemed to prompt Verida, as she added, [Channel Rescue] ‘Got it.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Group leaders,’ I announced, ‘we will probably have reinforcements arriving, please invite them into your groups. We won’t have time to work out who should go where, just grab anyone who is outside of the raid.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Will do,’ replied Sapentia.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Lizardman understandsss,’ said Grythiss and it made me feel cheerful to hear him. What did the others make of his role-playing style? Hopefully, it didn’t lose him any respect.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Here I go then,’ I said.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Good luck,’ said a voice I didn’t recognise. The circle of players who wished me well instead of despising me was growing.
As I trotted up the village main street by the path between the blacksmith’s and the bowyer’s, I could smell that this village was a place with a great deal of industry. There was a stink like urine, which - as I could tell from its associated smells - probably had something to do with curing leather. There were more subtle scents though too: freshly cut wood (pine); the ashes of old fires; metal and polish; horses; donkeys; chickens; and a rich body of vinegary smells I couldn’t place.
Until conquered by the General of Bow and General of Sword, Middlehampton was a supposed to be one of the best places to craft, as so many of the game’s core crafting skills were represented here, not just in terms of merchants selling basic components but also in regard to looms, potter’s wheels, forges, etc. Since I had not intended to do much crafting (only enough to be able to make my own arrows), I hadn’t really studied the guide book with it in mind.
I walked out of the shadow of the alley between the two buildings and into the open. Trotting at a relaxed pace, I made my way along a moonlit street that was straight and paved; on either side were a dozen shops and crafting centres. In the middle of the street were a group of eight dark elves, standing in a circle facing outwards, while a slender plate-class fighter stood in their centre. This, no doubt, was our Level 62 opponent: rune-carved plate mail, so dark green as to be almost black; a delicate longsword, designed more for thrusting than slashing; a round shield with a snake’s head design; a shocking cascade of light blue hair; and a face that was surprisingly beautiful for a warrior, with high cheekbones and emerald eyes.
As I came closer, there was a sudden ripple of movement among these dark elves. All at once they were facing me and raising weapons or, for those of them readying spells instead, their arms. I stopped. ‘Hello. I bear a message from Mikarkathat.’
‘Indeed?’ The high-level warrior pushed at the shoulders of the dark elves in front of him, so he could
part their ranks and walk towards me, hand on the hilt of his sword. A pang of anxiety ran into my stomach. Perhaps he could decapitate me and end the glorious progress of the raid? I would be fine, I assured myself. It was a positive that he was talking to me at all. ‘Let us hear it.’
‘Mikarkathat wants you to fall back to Fort Hellsmouth.’
‘Does she?’ Ominously, there was a tone of amusement in the warrior’s voice. And I didn’t like the way that he continued to close the gap between us.
‘Oh yes,’ I replied earnestly. ‘An enemy army is on its way to retake the city and she wants everyone back there to defend it.’
Just as I was about to turn and run, he stopped and, slinging his shield over his back, rested his gauntleted hands on his hips, looking at me with some scepticism. ‘That will let the Blackcoin seekers return.’
‘Blood and thunder!’ I was surprised and couldn’t help myself from exclaiming aloud and out of role as the dragon’s messenger. ‘You understand that the game currency can be converted to Blackcoin?’
With a shake of his head, the dark elf said, ‘I don’t know what you mean. All I know is what Mikarkathat taught me. There are creatures like us - like me - and there are Blackcoin seekers. My task is to stop the reappearance of the Blackcoin seekers and kill them if they show up.’ He looked at me with green eyes that seemed utterly sinister. ‘And you are a Blackcoin seeker, aren’t you?’
‘No, no, not at all. I’m with you. It’s just that Mikarkathat didn’t prepare me to meet others with such knowledge as you have just displayed.’
‘A rare and most unusual oversight on her part?’
‘Not really. She probably just didn’t think it necessary to brief me that you knew our enemies were Blackcoin seekers.’
There was something in the way the dark elf pursed his lips together that made me think this conversation was not going well. Perhaps I should start running now? After all, there were spellcasters behind him who might slow me up or even have some means of killing me.
‘There’s something I don’t understand about the Blackcoin seekers.’ The even, calm tone of this warrior was deceptive; I was sure he was containing a furious violence and that it would not be long before I was on the receiving end of it.
‘Oh? What would that be?’
‘Can they disguise themselves as werewolves?’ His sword was drawn now, swept out with his final word.
‘Ask me the password.’
‘What’s the password?’
With a flick of my UI I used Read Thoughts.
You have failed in your attempt to Read Thoughts.
You have been detected attempting to Read Thoughts!
Not only did the warrior lash out and stab me, he did damage.
You have been hit by a longsword for 148 damage.
Leaping wildly to the side I sprinted away, panicked. Left, left. Not through any doors. Left and right. He must be near.
Outside the village and swerving around trees I took a deep breath, still spinning the tracker pad vigorously beneath me (not that this made a difference, once you got it spinning quickly enough it was all a matter of your avatar’s speed).
[Channel Rescue] ‘I can’t take the aggro on the level sixty-two warrior, his damage gets through. I’m running. It will be tough but you’ll have to kite him.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Yo dudes and dudettes! Mashmeister is in the house!’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Mashmeister, stay off the raid channel. Raitha, I’m a bit disorientated. Can you find me and guide me back around?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘I am looking for you, my friend. Do you know from which side of the village you egressed?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Egressed? Who the hell says egressed?’ This was the brash voice of Mashmeister again, sneering at Raitha. It made me furious to hear my best friend being mocked. Perhaps there was a downside to including people who hadn’t volunteered to join me. With a glance at the raid screen on the UI (he was a level 18 warrior) I was tempted to expel him. That might just create more problems in the Rescue channel though; I didn’t know if it were possible to kick someone out of that. Blackridge hadn’t blocked me from his. Perhaps you couldn’t.
In any case, Mashmeister was pure distraction. I’d remember him for later.
[Channel Rescue] ‘I think it was east but now I’m curving around to my right.’
Dreading another hit, I didn’t dare turn too sharply. My hit points had dropped from 208 to 60 in that one blow, a second would finish me.
In real life, this chase would be chaotic and noisy. Blundering around in the dark, I’d be crashing through bushes, tripping over vines and being caught by brambles, while my pursuer would be easy to hear as he brushed aside branches and his feet thumped into the forest floor behind me.
In the game, we were running silent.
On all fours and with perfect vision under the light of two moons, I raced deftly between trees and bushes, taking routes that went under low-hanging branches where I could, so that my enemy would have more difficulty than me in having to duck low or leap over them. Not that he seemed to be finding the task a challenge. I could barely hear him. Only when I caught the faint swish as we swept through a patch of reeds by a stream, or when his armour and gear clinked slightly after we made a jump over a fallen tree, could I be sure he was even there.
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘I see you, you are currently running north-west, you need to come around south.’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘He’s too close for me to turn.’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Follow me.’
And swooping past my head was the great eagle form of my friend, disappearing through the trees ahead, veering to our right. It was a pleasure and a relief to see him and to take his lead.
[Group] ‘You are out of range of my healing,’ said Woan.
[Group] ‘Yeah, I’m way out. Coming back though.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Hello. I am Anja from Madagascar, I play a cleric, currently level fourteen. How can I help? What is going on?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Stay off this channel.’ Since my panic at being hit had died down (although I was still concerned about what this meant for my immunities) I felt calmer and added, ‘Please. Use your group chat for introductions and explanations. At the moment I’m leading a level sixty-two warrior towards the raid for Verida or Tuscl to kite. It will be a hard, long kite. He’s fast. He’s going to resist most of your spells. Be patient. Don’t take the aggro off the kiters.’
Following Raitha, I galloped out of the forest onto tilled fields that were undulating and silver bright, like the surface of a sea. To my right were the dark silhouettes of the village’s cottages.
Sounding anxious, Raitha called out, [Channel Rescue] ‘Incoming! A dark elf warrior.’
And we were running alongside the church fence, then straight at Verida and Tuscl who were staring northwards at the village.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Look right, Verida.’
Just as I thought I’d have to take the mob right past them and around the village and back for another try, Verida started casting and from the corner of my eye as I ran past, I saw orange and red light flash from her hands.
[Channel Rescue] ‘I have him,’ she said, with a quiet confidence that I admired.
Tuscl spoke up, rather more excitedly, [Channel Rescue] ‘Debuff fire worked!’
I stopped running and turned to watch, ready to take off again if our enemy should target me once more. Our Hasted druid (brown leather leggings, green newbie starter shirt, long blonde hair streaming behind her) was racing clockwise around the church grounds with a very realistic sprint animation: her avatar was punching the air before her with alternating, fast-moving fists. Our enemy was chasing in a much more fluid, elegant almost, manner of running, like a long-distance runner. He was losing ground to Verida but not by much.
[Channel Rescue] ‘I need one point six seconds to cast Flame Draw,’ she said, her calm voice contrasting with the vigoro
us efforts of her avatar. ‘And I suggest waiting until I’ve done that ten times before we start to damage him. So will someone tell me when my lead is long enough to cast?’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Sapentia, please call it.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Hai.’
My hit points suddenly maxed, with a rushing blue light crossing from the church grounds to me.
[Group] ‘Thanks Woan.’
[Group] ‘You’re welcome.’
[Channel Rescue] ‘Verida, you have two-second lead.’
Our druid paused, a flash of orange and red lit up the armour of the chasing warrior before fading like a spent firework. And the chase resumed. There was no obvious change, the warrior’s hit point bar hadn’t moved more than a fraction, if at all. The point of the spell though, was to pull mobs by annoying them, Flame Draw was a low damage, high aggro attack.
Around and around the chase went, the rest of the raid silent and watching attentively. The very presence of such a powerful enemy seemed to have imposed discipline upon them. This was not the time for joking. This was a time to concentrate.
After Verida had cast Flame Draw ten times, I called them in. [Channel Rescue] ‘Attack from distance. Go easy at first. DoTs and missiles but no nukes. If you crit you’ll mess this up.’
Immediately, from the crowd of colourful avatars in the churchyard came a flurry of arrows, daggers and darts. Soon after, a variety of colours streaming through the air showed that the first spells had been cast.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Remember, he’s been debuffed fire. Try a fire-based spell if you have it.’
The overall colour tone of the scene soon changed, from having been bright with all the colours of the rainbow, like a child’s cartoon, to the flashes illuminating the nearby church and trees now variations of red, from near yellow to scarlet. And it was working! The hit point bar of the dark elf was definitely moving downwards.
Sapentia contacted me. [Channel Sapentia/Klytotoxos] ‘Assign someone else to count for druid. I go to cast spells.’
[Channel Sapentia/Klytotoxos] ‘I’ll do it myself.’
The Dragon's Revenge Page 23