[Rescue] ‘Group six and eight, swap to the necro! Six and eight to the necro!’
We had more than enough players for the wizard. In fact, half a dozen raiders were standing around unable to get in at her from the front or side. Now it was the necro that was the main problem, especially as Oveidio and Woan had been hit by a Cone of Fear and were running away as fast as they could.
The fact that I could no longer see the two dark elf warriors was a good sign, even if several of the kiting groups had greyed out members.
In a matter of seconds, the clerics would have synchronised with the game. On their arrival, the main threat they would face was from the hunter. Threading my way through the confusion I picked up speed until I had a clear line to the archer and then I sprang at him.
With an astonishingly lithe roll, the hunter escaped to the side and simultaneously, got a shot off. A flicker of darkness entering my chest.
You have been hit by an arrow for 0 damage.
Thank goodness.
I dived on top of the hunter and while most of my bites and claw attacks kept missing, the crucial thing was I had his full attention. Abandoning his bow, he pulled a pair of curved daggers from his belt and stabbed at me with a flurry of vicious blows that should have been fatal.
You have been hit by a whipcord dagger for 0 damage.
You have been hit by a whipcord dagger for 0 damage.
You have been hit by a whipcord dagger for 0 damage.
You have been hit by a whipcord dagger for 0 damage.
Unlike the warrior in my last battle, the AI in this hunter, who was level 54, was non-existent and that meant he didn’t question his strategy, even when I wasn’t weakening the slightest. Good. Now, were our clerics in? How was the raid doing? Was the golem free from its muddy trap?
Something was going wrong, with every beat of my heart another player went from green to grey on the raid screen. Looking around as much as I could without allowing the hunter any respite from my attacks, I could see the problem was the necro. Somehow he’d managed to raise a skeleton pet and even though there was a push against him, the pet, which was probably stronger than level 50, was picking off my raid party pretty rapidly.
[Channel Rescue] ‘We need more people pushing the necro. If you can, run up to the temple and join in. His pet will kill you but we only need another minute.’
Maybe only thirty seconds. For one of our clerics suddenly materialised right beside me and immediately ran off through the northern pillars. Quite right. Then another. Then the third. Just as I was beginning to feel it was another mission accomplished, the fourth cleric appeared, only to be melted down by black mist (the graphics were pretty gruesome, a cloud in the shape of a skull descended upon him and immediately, he started to fizzle and spurt out bits of armour, skin and bone).
After a moment, the same cleric respawned in the same spot and again he died, victim of more grim magic. This time, skeletal hands reached up from the floor to pull him down and throttle him until his twitching legs were still. The Epic 2 devs had obviously enjoyed designing the necro line of spells. The next respawn, however, and our cleric was clear. Enough of the kiters were hurling themselves onto the enemy caster to throw him off balance. And even though they died like lemmings (not that lemmings actually did all throw themselves from cliffs), it was enough. All five clerics were clear.
[Channel Rescue] ‘We’re done. Mission achieved. Anyone still alive run clear and unclip to remove any aggro. Regroup one mile northeast of Fort Hellsmouth.’
Immediately, the raid channel came alive with whoops and cheers. My UI was flashing with a dozen one-to-one calls. Now was not the time, however, with an iron golem on the loose and a necro with a line of spells to which I might well succumb, it was time to take my own advice.
[Channel Klytotoxos/Raitha] ‘Making you raid leader while I unclip and shake off any residual aggro.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Raitha] ‘Very well.’
From beyond the eastern pillars, waves of thundering metallic notes pulsed through the temple as a warning.
‘Let’s continue this another time,’ I said to the dark elf hunter, then broke away from my attempts to bite and claw him. Rushing westwards, I was hit by four arrows before I found safety on the far side of a dry stone wall. Now I ran south, hopefully hidden by the grey stones, until I reckoned I was a safe distance, even from an enemy that might be chasing me. Not that I could see or hear any sign of enemies nearby.
[Channel Klytotoxos/Raitha] ‘Okay, dropping from game. And Raitha, I’m sorry about your death.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Raitha] ‘Do not concern yourself about that my friend. What matters is our goal was achieved.’
Having turned around to check in all directions, I unclipped. Leaving the game when you might have aggro was a risk. To prevent players from escaping fights that they were losing by leaving the game, your avatar remained in play for a good minute after you’d unclipped. Even without your knowledge, you could die, something you’d only discover on returning. You could drown, too, as I’d learned in Epic.
For a few seconds I was aware of my real body again, of the slight constriction around my head from the helmet, the presence of gloves on my hand. There were game menus to look at, settings and calibration options floating over a misty lake (the backgrounds changed all the time, always with scenes from the game, some of them very intriguing), as well as an attractive magenta option to enter the game. I looked at it, so that it was highlighted, but refrained from triggering it with a finger movement. Best to be sure none of the mobs chasing me were lingering at the spot where I unclipped.
Finally, after a count of sixty, I re-entered the game, a roar of sound and swirl of rainbow colours making me giddy for a moment, until everything stabilized: wall, field, line of trees, scent of damp soil, soaring flight of a swallow. And no bad guys.
Chapter 19
General of Sword, General of Bow
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Welcome back. You are raid leader again.’ There was a liveliness in Raitha’s voice that made him sound cheerful.
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Thank you. Do you still have your eagle form?’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Alas, not. And it is greyed out. We will find out now how often this ability is available. Hopefully it is a matter of days rather than weeks.’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Can you make it back to Fort Hellsmouth?’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘I’m running from Djorjuna Mountain but I’m still thirty minutes out. Please, start without me.’
[Channel Raitha/Klytotoxos] ‘Thanks, I might. I’m conscious that the sun is on its way. Let’s see how things go.’
Skirting the edge of the forest, I ran northwards on all fours until meeting up with the path that connected the Temple of Mov with Fort Hellsmouth, passing hills and empty cottages. Around me I could scent living creatures: small woodland animals mostly, nothing too dangerous.
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Hi, are you at the rendezvous?’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Hai.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘What landmarks are there? And how many people?’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Nearly two hundred. Watermill.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Thank you.’
I contacted the raid channel, which was overly busy as usual. In fact, I had been running with it muted. [Channel Rescue] ‘I’m about ten minutes from Fort Hellsmouth, everyone who can, meet up with the rest of the raid at the watermill, a mile northeast of the city.’
Making my way down the slope to where the raid was gathered gave me a nice moment. As they saw me arriving, a sizeable part of the crowd (maybe half), raised their weapons and cheered. It was quite a scene: warriors knocking swords against shields; wizards brandishing wands and staves; hunters waving their bows above their heads. And as I reached this colourful, enthusiastic army, they parted for me. A chant of ‘Tyro! Tyro!’ began as I passed thro
ugh the ranks. It made me feel a comradeship with these players, whom only hours earlier I had been completely estranged from. If Blackridge had managed to bully me into leaving my coffin too early, I would have been denied the chance to achieve anything in Epic 2 and would have left the game in disgrace. Instead, I was here. Doing what I was good at.
When the chants subsided, I led the raid southwards and alerted latecomers via the raid channel that we were to be found at the sacred grove of ancient oaks.
This part of the raid was straightforward and presented no new challenges, although I hadn’t seen Cerebri before. These were three-headed dogs, levels 42 to 45 and it was no joke having them chase you, barking and slathering and leaping for your throat from three directions. Fortunately, I was immune to their bites so I could stand there gaining aggro until it was safe for the others to start hitting them. Our kiting teams worked smoothly on the dark elves that could be drawn away from the grove and when there were just two remaining (a warrior and a cleric, 58 and 60) who wouldn’t chase me from the grove, I stood among the first line of trees taunting them, while our raid started to damage them. This posed a question to the mobs and it was interesting to see them vacillate, taking one step towards us, then turning to guard the spawn points. Then towards us, when they were damaged, then back.
In theory, we probably could have killed both by this strategy. Yet it was painstakingly slow because of the cleric, who healed up the modest amounts of damage we were doing easily enough. I didn’t have all night, I told myself, so once Raitha was back, I made him raid leader and ran up to the cleric. Fortunately, the dark elf’s mace and shield had no effect on my hit points, nor, when his companion joined in, did I suffer from her blows. Game over. Three grateful druids back in action.
Next on my agenda were the twelve level 40 plus characters whose spawn points were just outside the great southern gate of Fort Hellsmouth. Marching towards the city, raid at my back, was another fantastic experience. Lit by two moons, the pale towers of Fort Hellsmouth stood tall into a starry sky, the faint orange lights of its windows and streets making their own constellations against the background of the smaller, sparkling silver dots.
Skirting the eastern walls of the city by travelling over cultivated fields, we came to the wide paved road that led to the southern gate. There were banks to the road, raising it up from a muddy plain that formed a dark shore to a silver, glistening, calm lake.
Fort Hellsmouth faced the lake with its western walls. As you came closer to the city walls on the south side, the mud hardened into a dark, solid earth and there, dozens of merchants usually had their tents and carts. The high-quality traders were all inside the city, of course; the ones that gathered here were those who couldn’t afford the trading licence. You could fix your spawn point here, arriving in the game just outside the city walls, amongst the rough and coarse humoured denizens of what had been a lively community. The advantage of doing so were a couple of nearby dungeons for levels 30+ and being able to trade for cheap gear and spells. Twelve of our players were locked out of the game as a result of the invasion by the Generals of Bow and Sword.
As we ran along the road - wading birds, startled and angry, flying into the night sky out of the rushes on either side - it was clear that the whole district had been wiped. There were no booths left, no campfires. Silence and perhaps, in the darkness, the enemy troops and their Mind Stealer ally. The loss of Fort Hellsmouth to the dark elves had taken away an important centre for developing your character. It had been in the back of my mind to come here for my hunter spells as well as for training, if I could afford it. Plus gear, although that was less important to me now that I could function as a wolf and a vampire.
If I were the dragon Mikarkathat and were consciously trying to hamper the ability of players to enter the game and to advance once within it, I’d take out all such major cities. Then, even if I couldn’t prevent players from arriving in the game, they wouldn’t be able to progress as they should in terms of spells and skills. By this thinking, there was probably an evil army on the march to Port Placida. After tonight, I should advise everyone to purchase what they needed from that city in case it fell too.
As the road slowly curved towards the southern gate I slowed up and eventually stopped. It was to my right that the players would spawn and it must be there that the enemy waited, although from here I could not make them out, despite the brightness of the light from the moons.
Before I could appeal to the raid for a Wizard’s Vision spell, or for someone who could fly to scout the area (what a shame Raitha was back in half-elf form) an alarming screech and rattle alerted me to the fact that the huge portcullis in the southern gate was being raised.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Silence! Silence in this channel. Absolutely no talking.’
For once, my voice had the desired effect first time. Maybe they were getting used to me, or maybe the undisguised concern in my tone had done the trick. In any case, Grythiss didn’t need to come in to back me up. The cheerful banter that had been continuous throughout our march suddenly ceased.
One, two, four, eight…twelve storm giants strode out, their leader carrying a tall black banner, which had an image of what looked to be a scarlet star, but was in fact a symbol made from sixteen scimitars, all touching at the base and radiating outwards.
These were followed by twelve dark elf riders, whose class was probably shadow knight, given that they seemed to be riding Fearstriers, black stallions with green eyes and a green glowing aura to them. The banner of these knights was a star of exactly the same shade of scarlet as the other, this time made by arrows pointing away from the centre of a circle. The giants deployed to the right, the shadow knights to the left and down the corridor between them walked two figures who could only be the General of Sword and the General of Bow.
Feeling my chest constrict, I took a deep breath.
[Channel Rescue] ‘Move off to the right of the road. Follow Sapentia. There are dark elves and, probably, a Mind Stealer ahead of you. Kite them away from the spawn points if you can. Distract them for as long as possible if you can’t. Start at once. We haven’t a chance once the bosses join in.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Cast some sort of illumination and head towards the spawn points. Find the guards and start the battle.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Sapentia] ‘Hai. Understood.’
From the top of Sapentia’s staff came a bright blue flare, which hovered above her, illuminating everything in a monochromatic navy tone and creating long shadows from our army that stretched away towards the lake.
[Channel Klytotoxos/Glarinson] ‘Use your own judgement about when to call the others in. Basically, as soon as things start to move. We are not going to be able to clear the spawn points but we might cause enough confusion for some of our players to get away.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Glarinson] ‘Will do.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Raitha] ‘Come with me.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Braja] ‘Come with me.’
[Channel Klytotoxos/Grythiss] ‘Come with me.’
And I walked towards two of the most infamous and powerful NPCs in the game.
Behind me, I sensed the fluid motion of the raid, as everyone apart from my three friends followed Sapentia over the flats, towards what should have been the caravans and stalls of the traders. And there in front of Sapentia, indeed, by the wizard light, I could make out a group of dark elves accompanied by a tall figure whose fingers were tentacles, stretching out towards us. A Mind Stealer was a problem but not as much of a problem as two level 100 dark elves.
‘We’re dead,’ I said to my small team as we stepped forward to where the General of Bow and General of Sword were waiting. ‘Apologies for that, but I thought you’d like to check out these rare bosses. And Braja, you’re a great conversationalist. Try to keep them talking if you can, while the raid distracts the mobs on the spawn points.’
On my right, Braja chuckled.
To my left, Grythiss l
ifted his now-magical longsword. ‘Jusst give me the chance to ssstrike them at least once.’
‘Me too.’ Raitha was at the end of our row beyond Grythiss, bow in hand.
Our enemy generals had stopped, waiting for us, standing adjacent to their respective banners. The General of Sword wore gleaming indigo plate mail armour, the General of Bow engraved black leather. Both had several weapons scabbarded to them. Powerful weapons, no doubt and across my thoughts flitted a daydream in which we killed them and had our choice of these items.
With some twenty paces between us, I stopped. The General of Bow shook out his long ivory hair, pulled it back and pinned it clear of his sombre gaze with an indigo headband.
‘Well met,’ I said. ‘I am Klytotoxos; this is Braja; this is Grythiss; and that is Raitha.’
‘It is an honour to meet you,’ said Raitha. ‘I have heard so much about your achievements.’
‘What manner of creature are you?’ the General of Bow addressed me.
‘I’m a half-elf vampire, with Wolf Form.’
‘Why are you pretending to speak for the dragon and ordering my soldiers back to Fort Hellsmouth?’
‘Oh, you haven’t heard from the dragon recently? There is a large army coming.’
‘Blackcoin farmers?’ spat the dark elf. His companion said nothing, only stared at us, hand resting on a katana.
‘Right.’
The General of Bow gave a nod over to where our raid was and smiled. ‘Like those you lead…’
‘Braja, can you enlighten him?’ I was caught and had no answer.
‘Of course. Those Blackcoin farmers are all doomed. We tricked them into coming here, splitting them away from their main army. They think there is a secret entrance in the wall. Instead, your Mind Stealer will convert them to our cause.’
Resisting a grin at Braja’s brazen invention, I added as seriously as I could, ‘We should go and plan for a defence of the city. I have tactical information about their siege equipment and their intention to summon water elementals to undermine the west wall.’
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