Battleborne

by Dave Willmarth

  The hundreds of gathered dwarves replied in unison with a cry that vibrated the cavern walls. “Shield to shield!”

  A notification appeared front and center in Max’s sight.

  Quest Accepted: Defend the City

  Assist the dwarves of Darkholm in defending their city from the grey dwarf incursion.

  Reward: Variable, based on participation.

  Max, not having learned to instantly equip his armor, was scrambling to pull and strap it all on while the dwarves were organizing. But in less than a minute, he saw Thelonia dash away with about a dozen other dwarves. With only his chainmail shirt and one greave on, he ran after her. They headed down one of the ramps until it evened out in a wide landing. Turning to the left, they took another downward path, then another. “This place is like a damned anthill.” Max muttered as he followed, holding his sword in his right hand, his unequipped greave in his left. Dropping both into his inventory, he pulled out first one vambrace, then the other, able to strap those on while he was running, at least.

  After a nearly five minute run, the dwarves held up partway down a mine shaft, where they could hear the sounds of battle ahead of them. Max instantly pulled out his other greave and began to strap it on while the platoon leader spoke quietly.

  “Shield wall.” He looked at the width of the shaft, nodding as if it were as he’d expected. “Standard six. We move quiet until we see who’s where.”

  Without a sound, the dwarves formed up into two lines, six wide, with the leader behind. Six dwarves in front, including Thelonia, raised shields and spaced themselves about six inches apart side to side. They fully filled the width of the tunnel. The second row raised shields as well, offsetting themselves from the first row just slightly. With a grunt from the officer, they moved forward as one, step for step, somehow not making a sound. Max followed behind, now as fully armored as he could be. Seeing the two rows of heavily armored dwarves in front of him, he decided to forego the sword, and pulled out his halberd.

  In less than a minute they turned a corner in the shaft, and the battle ahead came into view. A force of grey dwarves had their backs to Max and his group, doing their best to murder a group of miners in front of them. Max could see half a dozen bodies on the ground between his group and the greys, who were steadily pushing the miners back.

  Only two of the bodies were grey dwarves. Max stared at the nearest enemy.

  Grey Dwarf

  Level 8

  Health: 420/500

  Thelonia and her comrades on the front line acted without having to be told. They simultaneously activated some kind of ability, and shot forward to slam into the rear of the grey dwarves. Several of the foes were knocked off their feet, or blasted forward into the dwarves ahead of them. Thelonia and the others took advantage of the momentary confusion and made the grey dwarves pay, hacking and stabbing with abandon as their second row ran up behind.

  But the greys recovered quickly, half their force of about forty turning to face the new threat. The fight quickly turned into a nasty, bloody grind as shield slammed against shield. The Darkholm dwarves were an impressive, well-trained fighting force. But so were the grey dwarves, apparently. They used very similar tactics, and were closely matched physically. The main difference Max could see from behind the second row was that the grey dwarves’ shields featured spikes protruding from their faces. And their weapons were all jagged edges and sharp hooks made for tearing and gutting, making the nastiest wounds possible.

  Unsure of how to help, Max cast Confuse on a grey dwarf about five feet back from the line. The spell had a ten foot wide area of effect, and a dozen greys within the area either froze, or shook their heads and looked around.

  Immediately the Darkholm dwarves exploited the weakness, shoving forward and slaughtering five or six greys before they recovered their wits. But not all the greys had been susceptible to the spell, and when the dwarves stepped forward to attack, two of the greys took advantage of an opening to bring down a dwarf to Thelonia’s left. Immediately a dwarf from the second row moved into fill the gap, and with most of their surrounding comrades down, those two greys paid with their lives.

  Max moved forward and used his long reach and even longer halberd to stab a grey in the face over top of his platooon’s heads. Then he used the hook to pull another’s arm toward him, ripping into it and causing the grey to lose its balance. One of the front-line dwarves finished it off.

  Max was just about to stab at another opening when he saw Thelonia fall, a heavy war hammer bashing a deep dent in her helm. He saw blood on the hammer’s head as it withdrew, and his vision went red.

  Roaring, his teeth bared, Max hurled the halberd forward at the grey who’d struck down Thelonia. The sharp point slammed through its chest and knocked it backward. Running forward, he dove headfirst over the two rows of dwarves, his roar surprising them as much as their foes. Landing several feet ahead of the front line, he stomped on the surprised grey he’d nearly crushed under him. Getting to his feet, he produced his double-bladed axe and proceeded to chop and hack and stab anything that moved within reach. Breathing heavily from the exertion, he bared his fangs and growled with each swing, not bothering to stop and finish the greys he wounded. One of the earliest lessons he’d learned in combat was that wounding an enemy was more effective than a kill. A wounded soldier took one, maybe two others out of the fight as they tried to pull him back off the line, or patch him up. At the very least, their priority often changed to defense of their fallen, rather than advancing.

  So he hacked off an arm, sliced open a face, stabbed deep into a chest. In seconds, the greys had retreated, intimidated by this giant that had appeared among them and taken down five or six in some kind of rage. The greys between Max and the dwarves were quickly cut down, and Max pushed into the retreating enemy in front of him. Seeing his halberd still stuck in the grey’s chest, he dropped his axe and pulled the shaft free. Now the greys that had been just out of reach were in range again. He stabbed forward, just missing a grey’s face as it raised its shield and deflected the point. Max turned the haft slightly and let the end drop, then yanked backward, hooking that grey’s leg and pulling it forward away from its comrades using both his weight and arm strength. It screamed as the hook dug into the unarmored back side of the leg, ripping a long tear even as Max stepped forward to stomp on its knee, crushing the bone.

  A wild swipe of the halberd’s axe blade skittered off several shields, then the greys struck back. By some unspoken command, three shield bearers launched forward using the same trick Thelonia and the dwarves had used. Max couldn’t move fast enough to avoid them, and the center grey’s shield slammed into him. Spikes punched into his upper thigh, gut, and left arm briefly before being ripped out again as he was knocked backward.

  The dwarves behind him moved aside long enough for him to fall past them, then closed their shield wall and advanced. Max lay on the stone floor atop several other bodies, damage notifications disappearing as they floated from his vision. His health bar was under fifty percent, and he had a green icon that looked like a skull flashing. Red’s voice came to him.

  “You’ve been poisoned. Heal yourself! The poison will fade in thirty seconds, but if you don’t heal, you’ll die!”

  Max spotted a wounded grey dwarf laying not far from him, the one he’d slashed across the face. He immediately cast Drain on the grey, watching as his health bar ticked up, then back down, the healing rate not quite as fast as the poison damage. He channeled the spell until the grey dwarf expired, then searched for another victim. There were still about ten seconds left on the poison debuff, and he was down to about twenty five percent health!

  Pushing himself to his feet, he picked a still-standing grey near the dwarves’ shield wall, and cast Drain again. When the poison finally wore off, he only had about fifteen percent health. But now his bar was ticking upward steadily as the spell continued to drain the grey. It ended abruptly when one of the dwarves decapitated the enemy, and i
t had no more life energy to give Max. Still at less than fifty percent health, he didn’t have enough mana to cast Drain again for more than a few seconds. But he had just enough to cast Confuse, so he did. Targeting the area just in front of his dwarves, he let them have it.

  Now all but out of mana, Max fell to his knees and began to search for Thelonia among the fallen. The dwarves would have to fend for themselves, he had nothing left to give. The floor of the tunnel was covered in blood, body parts, and liquids he did not want to identify, but he crawled back toward the edge of the pile where he thought Thelonia had gone down. Shoving away body after body, he found her laying face-down.

  Pulling her into his lap, he saw the vacant look in her eyes, and knew she was gone. Her helmet had been crushed, the edge of the hammer penetrating the metal and shattering her skull. Her face was covered in blood, her mouth open and unmoving. Max set her down gently atop the other corpses and gently pushed her eyelids closed. His own wounds now almost fully healed by his troll regeneration, he pulled the war hammer from his inventory and stalked toward the front line.

  “Let me through!” He roared at his platoon, now down to eight dwarves, six in front and two trying to catch their breath behind. The platoon leader glanced over his shoulder to see Max stalking forward, and barked a command. Just as Max reached the line, the dwarves gave a coordinated shove, pushing the greys back a step. The center two dwarves quickly stepped aside, and Max drove through, leading with a running golf swing of the heavy two-handed hammer that caught a grey’s shield and launched it backward. Behind him, the dwarves closed ranks and began to chant. Max felt himself infused with energy, his health bar rising rapidly, and he went with it.

  Using everything he had, he smashed at shields, cracked limbs, and even managed a downward stroke on a grey’s helm with the pointed side of the hammer that made the head inside burst like a melon. That grey was dead before it hit the ground. Max swung at any grey that got in range, his roar only ceasing long enough for a deep breath here and there. A grey snuck in on his left and stabbed him in the side, but the chainmail absorbed most of the damage. Still, Max’s health bar was down to about twenty percent. One of the friendly dwarves behind Max hacked off the attacking grey’s sword arm, and it went down screaming.

  Another, smarter grey waited for Max’s hammer to swing past him, then stepped forward meaning to stab Max in the leg. Max saw him coming and simply kicked its shield, pushing it back long enough for him to bring the hammer back around. The grey wisely backed off, along with its comrades.

  Max stood alone in a void in the middle of the battle. He let the hammer head drop, breathing hard and trying to growl at the enemy at the same time. His dwarves quickly pushed ahead of him, reforming their shield wall. Exhausted, Max took a knee. His mana had crept back up during the fight, and he could cast Drain for about ten seconds. But his dwarves would benefit more from Confuse, so he cast it one more time on the greys.

  Still on one knee, Max saw a green “+10” float across his vision, followed by another one a second later. His troll regeneration rate had increased, he assumed because he’d leveled up. But rather than study his notifications, he pushed himself back to his feet, looking for his halberd. He wouldn’t survive another charge into the enemy ranks, but he could stand behind his allies and make the greys pay.

  A voice from behind him shouted, “One side!” and Max turned to see more dwarves charging toward him. The lead dwarf motioned to his left, and Max fell back against the wall, allowing the reinforcements to pass. They charged into the fray, pushing past the tired remains of the platoon and quickly crushing the weakened greys that remained.

  Max felt a pleasant tingling sensation, and his health bar shot up to full. A dwarf in green leathers and a hood gave him a quick smile as she passed, and Max saw her cast a heal on another of the survivors.

  When the fight was over, the surviving platoon leader and the captain that led the reinforcements walked over to where Max was still holding up the wall. The platoon leader offered his hand. “We thank ye, outsider. Without yer suicidal charges, me warriors would not have held. It be a wonder ye still live.” He shook his head.

  Max grimaced. “Troll skin, and regeneration. Plus, I think you guys cast some kind of spell on me? Gave me strength.”

  “Aye. It be the Champion’s Call. As platoon leader I can gather a bit of energy from each of us and direct it toward a champion to give a temporary boost. And damn if ye didn’t make the most of it!” he grinned at Max. “Ye put a dent in a grey’s shield with yer foot!”

  The captain put a hand on the platoon leader’s shoulder. “Enough talk. There be fightin’ throughout the lower levels. The damned greys sent all they had, we think. Thousands.” He looked around. Half a dozen healers were just finishing up on the friendly troops and miners. Max looked too, and noticed that there were very few miners still standing.

  “Not enough of your platoon left to guard this shaft.” the captain observed. “Head to the rear for reassignment. Get some repairs if ye have time. I’ll leave twenty o’ my company here as guards, and take the rest to the next fight.” The platoon leader saluted with fist to chest, then marched over toward his remaining warriors. They quickly got to their feet and, along with the few surviving miners, headed back up the shaft.

  The captain looked up at Max. “You’ve done a great service to the city here tonight.”

  Notifications flashed across Max’s vision, but he ignored them as the captain kept speaking. “If yer willing, we could use yer help. We’ve got fighters enough to push the greys back, but they’re scattered across the city. It’ll take time fer most o’ them to organize and get into the fight. We need to slow the grey’s advance as much as we can.”

  Another quest notification appeared for Max.

  Quest Available: Hold, and Hold

  Assist the warriors of Darkholm in stemming the tide of grey dwarf invaders until reinforcements can arrive.

  Reward: Increased reputation with Darkholm; Experience based on participation; A share of the recovered loot for all kills in your battle zone. Accept? Yes/No

  Max clicked [Yes] without even really reading the quest. He wanted to kill these nasty little grey creatures, then eat their hearts. They’d killed Thelonia, and half of the dwarves he came down here with. Though he’d never even spoken to most of them, they were brothers in arms, and had watched his back. He would have blood for blood!

  Max looked around for his weapons, spotting his halberd right away. As he searched, he noticed several of the corpses glowing slightly with a familiar light. Kicking the nearest of them, he received dozens of loot notifications. Not caring what he’d gotten at that moment, he moved toward the front where he suspected he’d dropped his hammer. Finding it there, he was just about to put it into his inventory when he heard a groan.

  Spinning to his left, he spotted a grey dwarf blinking rapidly, raising a hand to its face. A dent in its helmet suggested it had been knocked unconscious. Max growled, his fangs bared, causing several of the dwarven reinforcements to step back, the passive Intimidate skill working on allies as well as enemies. He stalked toward the grey dwarf, reaching down and seizing it by the neck. With a grunt, he lifted the small body into the air and pressed it against a wall. His claws dug into its flesh, making it squirm and scream as it tried in vain to break his hold, then began cursing him in a language he didn’t understand.

  Max squeezed harder, his claws eventually reaching the grey’s spine and severing something vital. It went limp and silent, and an experience notification flashed up.

  “Damn.” A dwarf behind him muttered.

  Max looted the corpse, then walked back and located his axe. With his three main weapons back in his inventory, he waited while the captain detailed the guard platoon and gave them instructions to separate the dead.

  A moment later, Max was following the captain as they set off to find the next battle.

  Chapter 11

  Max accompanied the dwarves to
the next battle, then the next. His monster blood cried out for vengeance, and he fed it all the grey dwarven blood he could. For the most part, he stayed behind the lines casting Confuse on the greys just in front of the dwarven tanks, or casting Drain on a particularly nasty or lucky grey that had taken down a dwarf in the melee. But occasionally, when things began to get hairy, or the front line was beginning to falter from exhaustion, the captain would call on Max.

  Max would charge forward, weapon in hand, roaring his rage at the enemy as his allies cleared a path, then closed in behind him. He swung his chosen weapon with abandon, using his great size and strength to knock the greys back, killing some, wounding others. He began to use his new sword, figuring there was little skill in his semi-berserker flailings, anyway. He would think back to just hours earlier when he and Thelonia had been sparring. The look in her eyes, the smile on her face when she bested him again and again. Then he’d howl like a wounded bear and redouble his efforts.

  Max took hits during these periods, mostly to his legs and arms, but the Darkholm dwarves had now had time to mobilize their healers. The same female that had healed him after the first battle seemed to have taken it upon herself to make sure he lived. Between her heals, his strong bones, thick skin, and troll regeneration, he rarely got below half health before the dwarves behind him pushed past and resumed their grind.

  Back behind the lines, which were now four and five rows deep instead of two, Max was reduced to a caster’s role. He repeatedly chose wounded grey dwarves near the front to cast Drain upon, hoping to finish them off and receive a bonus. He knew he’d leveled several times, getting at least partial credit for all the dwarves he attacked with spell or sword when they died. The enemy all seemed to range from level eight to fifteen, as did most of the Darkholm dwarves.