That Wasn't the Plan

by Jason Cheek

  One surprising find during this time was when he’d collected up Torrac’s body. Zeven was reverently lifting the old Badger up in his arms, when a muted thud caught his attention. Looking down at the ground, he was surprised to see that the old Badger’s dirk hadn’t been looted by the PKers. Kneeling down with the elder still in his arms, Zeven was surprised at the red glow that suddenly emanated from the blade as soon as he picked it up. His mouth gaped open in shock a second later when he checked the dirk’s stats.

  Dirk of Torrac Tor’Narc

  Item Quality: Rare

  Item Type: Unique

  Attack: One-hand Edged

  Weapon Type: Dagger

  Damage: 54-65

  Durability: 320/350

  Weight: 2.8 kg

  +100 Spirit

  A dying gift left by a true friend. This dirk has a part of Torrac Tor’Narc imprinted into the blade.

  -Soulbound - can only be held or used by owner or a member of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta. Anyone else picking up this dagger will take damage equal to its maximum damage for every second in their possession.

  -Nullifies psychic and magic incapacitating attacks, when combat is initiated, to owner and their group or raid.

  -Warns of evil intent towards owner within a 10-yard radius.

  Reverently, Zeven slid the dirk into his equipment belt and got back to work. His feelings were heavy at taking the gift, but it was obviously a clan treasure that was meant to be used to protect the clan. Besides, it was the only thing he had to remember the old Badger with. Promising to always keep it at his side and to use it for the good of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta, Zeven solemnly went back to his grim task.

  The only break he took was around eight o’clock that evening, when he used the new Hot Log Out option. Limping around the empty house, Zeven had hurriedly taken care of her bodily needs, eaten, and then logged directly back into The World without sleeping or showering. As soon as he opened his eyes, Zeven was amazed to see that his avatar had continued to work on gathering the dead. Could he have just logged out for the evening and let his avatar do the work? Or, would that have only lasted for the fifteen minutes before the game forcibly logged him out?

  While those were interesting questions, Zeven had no desire to log back in at the graveyard with another lost level. Besides, it was more than that. In his heart, he knew that as the Chieftain of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta that it was his personal responsibility to put his clan mates to rest. He was sure that statement would’ve sounded crazy to his family and friends. Why would any of that make a difference to digital people inside of an MMO game? Crazy or not, there was something inside of Zeven that wouldn’t allow him to do anything less as he tirelessly cut down the necessary trees to build a funeral pyre.

  Oozing blood stained the fur on his chest and hands red as he worked. Even though his strength and spirit stats rose several points, Zeven didn’t feel any joy from the increase in his Attributes due to his heavy heart at the dreadful task. Nonetheless, he worked nonstop. Again and again, he cast Soul Biter to him cut the trunks to the size he needed. Placing the wood on the ground, he laid out the two-hundred farmers from the field in a row, doing his best to match up the body parts he found to the correct individuals. In each of their hands, he placed the broken implements of their trade … axes, scythes, pitchforks, mauls, and sickles. With that complete, Zeven added another row of wood, before laying out the clan’s warriors with their broken weapons and shields.

  In all, it took five levels for the funeral pyre to hold all of the dead. By then, it was two o’clock in the morning and Zeven was exhausted in both his body and soul. With a cold heart, he lit the tinder under the kindling and stood back deep in thought as the wood quickly caught fire. As he stood there watching the bodies catch flame, a pop-up window that he’d minimized instead of closing caught his eye. Instead of mentally flicking the window away, he halfheartedly opened the system window and silently read the message in surprise.

  Congratulations! You have learned a new spell: Commune with the Dead.

  Cast Time: 60 seconds

  Spell Requirements: 100 Mana

  This spell grants the caster the ability to speak with the dead within the range of the caster. The spell can only be cast on the same undead once in a week. Until the spell ends, the caster or teammates can commune with the dead for the length of the spell. The dead only know what was known in life. The dead are under no compulsion to answer truthfully or to answer at all. The spell does allow the dead to recognize the caster for who they are and respond to them in kind for the duration of the spell. Requires Spirit Shamanism level 15. Cooldown each available undead person once every seven days. Range is 10 yards. Duration is fifteen minutes.

  Zeven was unsure what the spell even meant as he read through the description again. Nonetheless, it sounded apropos for the current situation as he mentally selected the spell and went through the minute-long cast. Nothing happened as the spell came to an end. Feeling like a fool as he stood before the roaring flames, Zeven raised his arms out as his voice rang into the night’s sky.

  “Clan mates and defenders of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta, you have the Chieftain’s thanks for all that you’ve done to protect our people” Zeven began, with the words coming from deep in his heart. “As your Chieftain, I promise that your deaths will not have been in vain. I will punish those that have wronged our people and give you my word that I will continue searching for the members of our clan and either put them to rest or bring them together to rebuild the House of Bruic Diongmhalta once more. On this, I swear!”

  As his voice died away into the still, pre-morning air, only the sounds of the raging flames consuming the wood and bodies could be heard. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, Zeven bowed his head in respect to those that had died trying to protect the clan as he knelt and dipped two fingers into the bloody ash of the fire. Not fully understanding why, he scribed the runic symbol for the House of Bruic Diongmhalta on the silvery fur of his chest. As he rose to his clawed feet to face the burning funeral pyre once more, a system window suddenly popped open before his eyes.

  Congratulations! You have successfully completed the Secret Quest Honoring the Dead!

  You have gained 8000 Experience Points. You have gained 800 to Reputation. Your fallen clan mates have heard your words and recognize you as their rightful Chieftain. You have earned the title, Spirit Chieftain of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta. Due to the unique nature of your clan mates’ deaths and the honors that you have shown for their sacrifice, the spirits of the dead have agreed to serve the House of Bruic Diongmhalta even in death. You have unlocked the ability to have the spirit vassals of your fallen clan mates’ aid in protecting Blaidd Ogof Hold even after death.

  When an enemy of House of Bruic Diongmhalta attacks Blaidd Ogof Hold, the spirit vassals of the fallen clan mates will materialize as ghostly spirits to defend the clan’s ancestral home. When inactive, the spirit vassals will take up guardian positions around the castle as stone statues. If a spirit vassal falls in combat, they will regenerate and rise again within twenty-four hours back to full spirit health. For further information on upgrading spirit vassals, check the Blaidd Ogof Hold’s interface. This boon is only available as long as Chieftain Zeven Al'Zaric is head of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta.

  ***Alert ***

  Due to Blaidd Ogof Hold being in travel mode, the clan’s spirit vassals will travel in the runic mark of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta on Chieftain Zeven Al'Zaric’s chest and will transfer to Blaidd Ogof Hold once the fortress is unpacked.

  ***Alert ***

  Incredulously, Zeven minimized the window unsure of what any of the messages meant. He was just going to pull up the in-game wiki to look up any information he could find on spirit vassals, when the funeral pyre suddenly burst into a fiery inferno. In an incredible display of raw power, the flames rose up fifty feet into the air with a life seemingly of its own while he stood in dumbfounded shock.


  As his eyes urgently searched the flames trying to understand what was going on, Zeven saw movement deep in its depths. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining the Badger-Kin shapes that started taking form atop the burning pyre or if it was real. Unconsciously, he stepped a few paces back as the ghostly shapes began to solidify into the clan mates that had been killed. The first to step out of the fiery inferno was the ghost of Beathan Bruic, the War Leader of the Clan’s Guards.

  “I serve the House of Bruic Diongmhalta, Chieftain Al'Zaric!” The ghostly visage stated as he approached Zeven and gave him a clenched fist salute. The ghostly body of his clan mate seemed to burn as if it were on fire as he strode forward without any hesitation. It wasn’t a complete body. While Bruic’s face was highly detailed along with his now whole weapon and shield, his body was see-through while his legs seemed to fade away into nothing. Honestly, it kind of made Zeven think of Slimer from Ghostbusters.

  With that said, Zeven couldn’t have explained why the fur on the nape of his neck rose up to stand on end as the ghostly Bruic drew near. While a part of him looked upon the glowing-green figure of his clan mate with a twenty-first century disdain, a more primitive part of his mind babbled at him in fear. He raised up his hands to stop the ghost’s advance, but instead of grappling with the glowing apparition, his hands passed right though its Incorporeal body. In the blink of an eye, Bruic shrank down to nothing and shot forward into the middle of his chest.

  Fire seared into his skin while the ash rune Zeven had drawn onto the fur of his chest burned him like it had been left by a branding iron. Gasping for breath at the seventy-five percent pain, he fell to his knees starring incredulously at the mark burned through his fur onto the skin of his chest. From the runic number system that he’d learned during his Nightmare quest, Zeven could see the House of Bruic Diongmhalta rune now had the number one at the top of the double circle that surrounded it.

  Zeven had just enough time to look up in horror as his next ghostly clan mate stepped out of the funeral pyre. Once again the same ritual words were spoken “I serve the House of Bruic Diongmhalta, Chieftain Al'Zaric!” as the ghostly shape shot forward into the rune on his chest. Zeven was vaguely aware that there was a number two now imprinted into the skin of his chest as he gasped in agony. Even while he begged the spirit vassals to wait, the ghostly stream ignored his pleas as they surged forward in an unending line.

  Agony filled Zeven’s body as each new ghostly vassal took its rightful place in the double circle around the House of Bruic Diongmhalta rune seared into the skin of his chest. Zeven’s mind silently screamed with the knowledge that he’d laid a thousand of his clan mates to rest in the funeral pyre. Again and again the fiery pain seared Zeven’s soul as he fell onto his back writhing in agony. While the spirits hurt, at the same time, the pain seemed to cleanse his soul. Even so, somewhere around the twentieth spirit, Zeven lost consciousness in a feverish haze as everything went black.

  ***

  “Zeven!” A familiar young male voice shouted in Zeven’s ear as he was roughly shaken awake. “Where have you been for the last week and what the hell happened here?”

  Coming suddenly awake, Zeven’s eyes popped open at the sight of a large, red Wolf-Kin Warrior looking down at him. He pulled away trying to get his bearings and remember where he was, when he recognized his younger brother’s worried face looking down at him. Sitting up with a groan, he looked around trying to remember everything that had happened.

  “Sorry about that, Big Red,” Zeven haltingly said, using his younger brother’s in-game name. At the age of nineteen, he was entirely too worried about his small size. He continued explaining what happened as he rubbed at the crud that had built up in the corner of his eyes while he’d been sleeping. “The entire state was hit by a major ice storm last week. From what the radio was saying, a number of people froze to death in their cars on their way home from work. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if the count doesn’t rise from people freezing to death in their homes, since the storm took out most of the power and phone lines across the state.”

  “Damn,” Big Red said, as his eyes grew wide. “Mom and Dad figured that you’d lost the phone lines from the storm, but none of us considered that you might have lost power too.” His voice took on a more serious tone. “By the way, I already talked to them about moving in with you while I go to Thomas Nelson Community College and they thought it was a good idea. Dad even said that he’d cover the tuition.”

  “I thought you were going into the Navy like me?” Zeven asked, somewhat surprised at his brother’s words.

  “It was what I wanted to do initially,” Big Red admitted with a wistful smile, “but I decided I wanted to go into Physical Therapy instead.”

  Seeing Zeven’s raised eyebrow, his younger brother looked away suddenly embarrassed. Tony didn’t have to say a word about what was on her mind. She knew him well enough to know that he’d changed his focus to find a way to help take care of her. It was a subject they’d argued over several times in the past, but by now, Zeven knew it was best not to say anything more about it. While she wanted her younger brother to live his own life, Tony was old enough to make his own decisions. With a sad smile, she changed the subject.

  “While I was without power, the PKer group AAA decided to slaughter my clan,” Zeven said, a grim look on his face as the memories of his ghost vassals came flooding back to him. Distractedly, he gently felt the outline of the rune of the House of Bruic Diongmhalta on his chest. While it looked like it had been seared with an iron into his skin, it didn’t hurt now at all.

  “They slaughtered your entire clan?” Big Red asked in shock.

  “Unclear,” Zeven said, slowly climbing to his clawed feet with Big Red’s help. “A number of my people got away,” his eyes focused towards the north, “but I have no idea if AAA caught up to them or not. Nahi is somewhere towards the north and I plan to find her.”

  “Well count me in on that quest!” Big Red excitedly said, but Zeven cut him off before he could continue.

  “I’ve got that covered,” Zeven said in no uncertain terms. Quickly, he explained everything that had happened. The activation and packing up of his fortress, the funeral pyre of the dead, and the spirit vassals that he now carried within the rune seared into his chest. Finishing up the story, he urgently gripped his younger brother’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

  “If you want to help, pass the message on about what happened here to the local clans in the area and see if you can scare up any information on my missing clan mates.” He gave his younger brother’s shoulder a shake to say he wasn’t finished. “Once we have an idea of where they went, we can meet up and find them together.” For a second, Zeven thought his brother was going to argue. But slowly, he could see him nodding in agreement at the plan.

  “Okay,” Big Red said, coming to a decision as he met Zeven’s stormy eyes. “You can count on me.”

  Clasping wrists together in a Beast-Kin shake, they got to work. Big Red looked through the village to gather what remaining food stores that he could, while Zeven cleaned up at the village’s well and got dressed. By the time he was fully geared up, his younger brother had come back with the food rations that hadn’t been looted by the PKers. Big Red gave it all to him, saying he could pick up more as he made his rounds and that Zeven needed it more if he was going to travel without having to stop to refresh his food supplies.

  While Zeven wanted to argue, in his heart he knew his younger brother was right. Besides, sometimes you had to let your siblings win an argument if you didn’t want trouble down the road. Sharing a quick brotherly hug, they promised each other to keep in touch and headed off in separate directions. Big Red, towards the Wolf-Kin clan in the east, while Zeven was forced to retrace his steps to the southeast, instead of heading directly north to where Nahi was. The quickest way to head north was to head back towards Lonsalindel and catch a ferry to the Gnome capital of Tulduroc. Coming to the outskirts of the forest
that had surrounded his clan’s lands, Zeven stopped and looked back one last time at the burned out husks that had once been his clan’s homes while he made a promise under his breath.

  “I’m going to kill them all if it’s the last thing I do!” With an iron resolve, Zeven headed off into the forest at a run.

  Chapter One.Forty-Five

  (Thursday, May 8th / Day 18 of The World.)

  The massive iron-reinforced gates of Darom’s outer wall shook and creaked as another series of explosive impacts hammered its far side. Already, the thick wood was turning black and starting to bow inward as the stone archway above filled with billowing black smoke. Even worse, to either side of the entrance, the tops of the walls for nearly twenty-yards in either direction were receiving the same kind of treatment. Even from where Sub-Leader Butcher stood with her troops in front of the gate, she could see that the stones of the ramparts were already beginning to show signs of melting in places from the intensity of the heat.

  Ten-yards further out, on each side of the gate, the remainder of her soldiers guarding the walls were laying into the enemy with everything they had. The metallic clunks of their heavy crossbows repeatedly firing filled the air in-between the sounds of fiery explosions and the crackle of burning wood which were intermixed with newfar cursing and screams. The light, moveable palisades that the Dread Pack newfar were using to deflect the incoming fire in the killing field before the wall were effective to an extent. Luckily for her troopers, the wooden barriers couldn’t stand up against the prolonged bombardment from their heavy bolts. Nonetheless, this was the tenth push that the enemy had made on the main gate and they were slowly wearing the city’s defenses and defenders down with every successive attack.

  It had all started early yesterday morning, when Zinnaemita and her friends had come running up to her with the warning that the Dread Pack were planning an early morning rescue attempt. The Gnomeling had explained that the attack on the outer wall was just a feint and that the true push would come at the dungeon where the troopers were holding the Dread Pack’s prisoners. By then, the troopers guarding the outer wall had already come under heavy attack and Butcher had to make an important strategic decision. Did she use her main force to stop the attack from breaching the walls or did she listen to Zinnaemita in a dangerous bid to counterattack the enemy’s forces before they could free their people.