PwnrBwner snorted. “No wonder. I wouldn’t party with a level 15, either, unless I wanted to be instakilled.”
“You are kind of low,” KellieTheDeathless said, twisting her wineglass by the stem. “Why do you want to go back in now, anyway? You need to turn out a few dozen levels before you take on the citadel. Then you might live long enough to get your gear back.”
“I can’t wait around,” Roark said, allowing desperation to creep into his voice. “Didn’t you hear? That Griefer just took the fourth-floor Overseer’s seat. He’s almost impossible to get to now—”
“Oh yeah, good idea,” PwnrBwner drawled. “Go in there now that he’s holed up four levels down!”
Roark glared at the High Combat Cleric. “Except there’s another way in. A secret entrance that leads right into the back of the fourth-floor throne room. A decent party could take him by surprise, kill him before he knew what hit him—but only if they get to him now, before he moves on to take the fifth floor.”
PwnrBwner was paying attention now.
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Where is it?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Roark said, shaking his head. “I’ll lead the way in, but I’m not handing that information over so you can stab me in the back and take him on yourselves. Half that quest belongs to me. If you can’t accept that, I’ll find some mercenaries who can.”
“What quest?” KellieTheDeathless asked.
Roark found the heroes at his table suddenly much closer than they’d been a moment before, all leaning forward and giving him their undivided attention. Even PwnrBwner.
“You don’t have it yet?” he asked as if he didn’t believe them. He took a long pull of his ale for dramatic effect, then set the flagon on the table. “There’s a Grief the Griefer quest going around. Word of mouth, with a major Experience and gold payout.”
Around the table, three pairs of eyes lost focus as they read through the quest details Roark had set before leaving the citadel.
╠═╦╬╧╪
Grief the Griefer
It’s time the Griefer felt the sting of defeat. Any hero fed up with this troublemaking Troll should join in the fun.
Objective: Strike a killing blow on Roark the Griefer as many times as possible.
Reward: 650 Experience, 650 Gold, Flawless Cursed Weapon and Armor
Restrictions: Killing blow must be struck on Roark the Griefer’s native floor in the Cruel Citadel.
Note: Experience and Gold awarded will be doubled for each additional kill completing the quest.
The enemy of my enemy is my ally … for now…
╠═╦╬╧╪
“I mean, it’s not much,” JohnJon said, disappointment obvious in his voice.
Roark’s gut clenched at the words. He’d placed the quest on himself, baiting his trap, but unfortunately, there were strict reward restrictions, which he hadn’t been able to find a way around.
“But it keeps doubling,” PwnrBwner said after a tense beat. “And if you really do have a back way into the throne room, we can skip all the fighting beforehand and go in fully charged with all our Health potions. Take down the Griefer, wait for him to respawn, take him down again before he can retrieve his gear—oh shit, I bet I can find a potent contact poison to bitch-slap him with when he tries to get his stuff back!” The High Combat Cleric laughed, a manic glint in his eye. “Accept quest.”
Roark felt an invisible weight fall from his shoulders and managed to keep the smug grin off his face as PwnrBwner_OG turned to him.
“Well, what’re we waiting for?” PwnrBwner stood up so hard his chair nearly tipped over. “Let’s go kill this skidmark.”
“What about Kevin and Mike?” KellieTheDeathless protested. “You said we’d wait for them.”
“Message them to meet us at the citadel.”
“Do I look like I work for you?”
“Balls!” the Cleric snapped, throwing his gauntleted hands into the air. “Fine! I’ll do it myself just like I do everything else in this stupid guild! You”—PwnrBwner pointed at Roark—“level 15. I don’t want you holding us back. You got any character more OP you can work with?”
“All I’ve got is what you see here,” Roark said before tipping back the last of his ale. He set his empty flagon on the table with a bang and stood up. “But trust me, I’m more powerful than I look.”
FORTY-THREE:
Boss Raid
Roark shot a level 1 Fireball at the oncoming Shambling Revenant, destroying the remainder of its Health bar and dropping it to the ground. Though he didn’t feel good about slaughtering the cemetery full of walking corpses outside the citadel’s walls, participating in clearing the area was necessary to maintain his cover as a hero.
“That was the last one,” Gazebo_Goatee called, sheathing his Shining Zweihander. The Blessed Paladin, Roark had learned from the heroes’ conversation on the way to the citadel, was another of the dark elf Dude_Farkowitz’s faces. Apparently, it was normal for heroes in Hearthworld to have more than one form. They moved between them to avoid the long respawn times.
“A fireball?” PwnrBwner_OG sneered, twirling his Unique Blue Flame Mace in his hand. “If that’s the best you can do, you’re gonna get one-shotted down there.”
“I’m saving my good spells for the Griefer,” Roark replied, leading them to the mausoleum with the cracked stone door. “Why? Were those Revenants a challenge for you?”
The Cleric scowled. “I don’t hold back like a scared little bitch.”
“Of course not.” Roark grinned. “You barrel in full-force like an idiot with no self-control.”
“Oh my God, if I have to listen to any more of you girls sniping at each other, I’ll murder you both,” KellieTheDeathless snapped, pushing past Roark into the darkness. A low snicker came from the shadows off to the right. JohnJon, their Druid Scout. “Where’s our door already?”
Roark followed her inside, PwnrBwner on his heels. A moment later, Gazebo_Goatee and Mike_T_Boarkiller had crowded into the tiny crypt as well. Tight fit.
“Here.” Roark gestured to a stone sarcophagus. He leaned into the lid, pretending to be unable to open it. After a few moments’ struggling, he gave up and stood, ducking his head out of feigned embarrassment. “Well, my Strength’s not exactly—”
“Step aside, Fifteen.” PwnrBwner grabbed the corner of the lid and shoved it off. With an indignant yelp, KellieTheDeathless jumped aside to keep from being crushed. The High Combat Cleric pointed down into the dark tunnel below. “JohnJon, you’re up.”
The Druid Scout muttered an incantation. A ball of light flared to life over his head, then he climbed over the lip of the sarcophagus, arrow nocked and ready in his vine-covered bow, and dropped.
And continued dropping until he hit a sloping dirt floor cut into the earth.
“Whoa,” the Scout said, his voice echoing up from below. “No traps, but watch that first step. It’s a doozy.”
“All right,” PwnrBwner said, looking at the rest of them. “I want Mike and Kevin behind JohnJon ready to draw aggro. Kellie and me next—and you better have your Star Showers ready to go this time, Kel—then Level Fifteen bringing up the rear where he won’t get instadead. Let’s move.”
Roark put on an offended scowl until the rest of the group had dropped into the tunnel, then he grabbed the lip of the sarcophagus and vaulted in behind them. According to the countdown in the corner of his vision, he had one hour, twenty-nine minutes, and counting until his Glamour Cloak wore off, revealing not only his true level, but his true identity to these heroes. Kaz’s maps hadn’t given an exact length to these tunnels, but Roark planned to have accomplished this plan before time ran out.
They followed along behind JohnJon’s flickering ball of light, the only sound the clanking of their own heavy armor, boots, and weapons echoing back to them. Here and there, the ground was littered with skeletal remains, and overhead tree roots as well as sunken tombstones and the broken bottoms of wooden coffi
ns hung from the ceiling. Every now and then, Shambling Revenants lunged at them from shadowy clefts in the muddy walls, but a few blows from Mike_T_Boarkiller’s warhammer and a mishmash of Elemental Warlock spells from KellieTheDeathless ended the undead creatures quickly and efficiently.
Around a sharp turn, the passageway wound back toward the citadel, sloping steadily downward. The coffins and roots disappeared as they traveled deeper into the earth, and no more Revenants appeared. They splashed through a swiftly flowing brook and passed a shrine laden with a stack of human skulls and a wreath of deep blue flowers.
Roark had just realized the floor was leveling out when JohnJon called back in a low voice, “We got a door! No obvi mechanisms trapping it, no locks, no magick. Looks like your standard pull-chain.”
PwnrBwner hefted his mace and cast a spell with his off hand. Roark felt a flood of power rush through his veins.
[You have been Galvanized! Constitution is increased by +10 for 2 minutes!]
“All right, let’s go,” PwnrBwner said impatiently. “Pull the chain already, JohnJon.”
Mike_T_Boarkiller giggled. “That’s what I told your mom to do with my chain.”
“Did she make you pay extra, too?” KellieTheDeathless asked, eliciting a snort from Gazebo_Goatee.
“Always does,” Mike said.
“Ha ha, guys!” PwnrBwner snapped, the venom in his voice cutting through their laughter. “This is the perfect time for everybody to become comedians—when we’re trying to sneak up on that shithead Griefer! Open the fucking door.”
At the front of the heroes, the Druid Scout pulled the chain, its links rattling and clanking. With the grating scrape of stone against stone, the crude door slid down into the floor, revealing a small knoll of softly glowing grass and the rear of the Keep.
Roark followed the heroes’ party out into the ambient light of the fifth floor’s forest of enormous glowing mushrooms, the grass chiming musically beneath their feet and shimmering violet.
“This is the fourth floor?” Gazebo_Goatee asked, head craned back to look up at a towering bioluminescent fungus.
“No, this is the end of the third floor,” Roark lied with convincing ease. “The fourth-floor throne room is through there,” Roark said, pointing out the faintest outline of a door, just barely visible in the aging stone and mortar walls of the Keep. He recognized it. This was the entrance Zyra had used when she first brought Roark and Kaz down to meet Azibek. He edged past Mike_T_Boarkiller and felt around until he triggered the catch. With an audible click, the door swung open.
Roark stepped aside, gesturing for PwnrBwner to precede him. “Level 28s first.”
But the High Combat Cleric turned back to his party.
“Kellie, I want you to lay down your Meteor Shower AoE as soon as we step inside, targeting the Griefer. Kevin and Mike, come at him from opposite sides and whale on him while JohnJon and I DPS. Meanwhile, I’ll keep you guys buffed and stuffed.” He shot a glare at Roark. “You try not to crap your Pull-Ups while the big boys work. And see if you can’t find something better than a Fireball to shoot at him.”
Roark smirked. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Everybody got what they’re doing?” PwnrBwner asked.
There was a chorus of agreements and heads nodding.
“Then let’s go kick some ass.”
Roark let the heroes file into the dark corridor first. When they were all inside, he leaned around the corner and fired off one of his pre-inscribed spells—a level 2 Beacon—in the general direction of the fourth floor. If Druz, Grozka, and Wurgfozz were in position, they would see the sparkling flare.
The signal sent off, he slipped into the gloomy, sloping passageway behind the heroes. At the front of the group, the Druid Scout had cast another glowing orb and was feeling for the catch.
Click.
The panel slid aside, revealing Azibek’s opulent throne room flickering with firelight. From every corner of the room, piles of jewels and gold glittered, reflecting the dancing flames. In the corner sat a huge ornately carved chest thrumming with Infernal power. The Troll High Court—a conglomeration of the highest-level Trolls in the citadel—were scattered about the room, decked out in a collection of Unique robes, leathers, and armors.
At the head of it all, on the enormous throne, sat the Dungeon Lord himself, a colossal grey-skinned Jotnar Exarch, a long-bladed Infernal scythe etched with runes resting across his lap. Azibek the Cruel cut an intimidating figure even sitting as he was. Roark felt a thrill of fear course down his spine as the Dungeon Lord’s eyes settled on him.
“What the hell is this?” PwnrBwner snapped, his grating voice cutting through the throne room like a knife. “That’s not the Griefer.”
Azibek’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, Roark was certain the Dungeon Lord could see through his Glamour Cloak, through his very skull and into his mind, the plan laid bare. Then Azibek launched himself up out of his seat with a wordless battle cry that shook the Keep and swung his Infernal scythe, scattering the heroes.
“Where’s that AoE, Kel?” PwnrBwner yelled, circling toward the Dungeon Lord’s right. “And where are my tanks? Is this you idiots’ first raid?”
KellieTheDeathless shoved the end of her gnarled staff at Azibek. With a sudden downward rush of hot air, chunks of fiery rock appeared overhead and battered the throne room, shattering craters into the flagstones where they hit. A few slammed into the Dungeon Lord and members of the Troll High Court, but Azibek shrugged of the damage and leapt at her.
With a resonating shout, Mike_T_Boarkiller rushed the Exarch. A bloody, pulsing aura surrounded the Bloodfury Savage, and his already overlarge muscles doubled in size. His warhammer slammed into Azibek’s left flank just as Gazebo_Goatee attacked with his Blessed Longsword from the right.
The Troll High Court seemed to have overcome their outraged shock and were flooding into the battle. Roark hurried to cast Hex-Armor on himself in case he had to intervene. Weakness stole through his body as a portion of the Constitution PwnrBwner had shored up bled away—the price of the spell. Icy cold sank into his muscles, chilling him to the bone as the glimmering crystal armor covered him.
But a moment later, the throne room’s immense heavy wooden doors burst open, admitting Grozka, Wurgfozz, Kaz, Zyra, Mac, and a legion of allied Trolls. They spread throughout the throne room, battling the Troll High Court and backing them into a corner away from the heroes and Azibek.
His plan back on track, Roark pulled out his quill and inkpot. He dodged a mighty blow from Azibek’s Infernal scythe, then ducked under a brilliant flash of white thrown by PwnrBwner. Dropping to his knees, he hurriedly scribbled out a hex on the step in front of the Dungeon Lord’s throne.
[Would you like to Hex this surface? Yes/No?
Note: For every Hex you inscribe, Cursed! will extract a share of your Infernali Magick equal to your Enchanting level x .5 your character level.]
Without hesitation, Roark selected yes. His purple Magick vial dipped slightly, but his Regen went to work immediately refilling it. As the hex took, the inscription glowed wine-purple, and the letters ran into strange angular runes as the hex stretched to size. Amethyst light flared at the edges, then faded to near invisibility.
A leaf-fletched arrow bounced off Roark’s Hex-Armor, extracting a large portion of his Magick rather than his Health.
“My bad!” JohnJon yelled, the Druid Scout sprinting away from the blade of Azibek’s Infernal scythe as he nocked another leafy shaft and fired it at the Dungeon Lord.
Rather than turn on the Druid, Azibek beat his huge, leathery wings and lifted into the air.
“Look out!” PwnrBwner shouted, backpedaling. “Here comes his boss attack!”
While they were distracted, Roark darted twenty feet away from his first hex and dropped down, inscribing another and accepting it without a moment’s hesitation.
The throne room floor rocked beneath his feet, throwing Roark onto his ass. An agonized
shriek split the air to his left. When Roark glanced over his shoulder, Azibek was slinging ruby liquid from the blade of his scythe and Gazebo_Goatee’s headless corpse lay in a pool of blood on the floor, plum-colored tongues of Infernal fire licking up from his limbs. Mike_T_Boarkiller was still hammering away at the Dungeon Lord, but only a handful of Azibek’s Health bar had disappeared.
From the far corner, KellieTheDeathless cast a Whiteout, showering Azibek and the Bloodfury Savage with swirling snow so thick that Roark couldn’t see either of them through it. A split second later, PwnrBwner_OG shouted out a thunderous prayer to his Divine god, Rajthorne the Mighty. Lightning struck the center of the Whiteout. With a series of gusting flaps, Azibek’s wings blew away the blizzard, and the Dungeon Lord swooped toward KellieTheDeathless.
Roark shook himself out of the fascinated trance and moved on to the next available surface, a wall outside the twenty-foot minimum. He hoped not to need so many hexes, but better overprepared than underprepared—especially when forever-death was on the line.
He’d just ducked down to inscribe another hex when a hairy mass slammed into him from behind, smashing him face-first into the ornate chest. Red drained from his Health vial, and Roark realized his Hex-Armor had lapsed. At his feet, Mike_T_Boarkiller groaned as his own red bar flashed out a warning. It seemed Azibek had knocked the hero across the floor.
Roark disentangled himself from the Bloodfury Savage and recast Hex-Armor on himself. All his level 2 spell slots had been inscribed with Hex-Armor and Hex-Aura in preparation for this fight. Then Roark grabbed Mike_T_Boarkiller under the arms, set him on his feet with a strength that should’ve been out of reach of a level 15, and shoved the Savage back into the midst of the battle.
From just beyond Azibek, PwnrBwner_OG caught Roark’s eye.
“I’m gonna get you for this, you lowbie jizzrag!” The Cleric fired a fountain of blue-white lava from his fist at the Dungeon Lord, filling the throne room with the hissing crackle of sparks and smell of molten slag. “After this boss, you’re going down! Gonna PK your ass until you rage quit!”
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