The Way of the Clan 8

by Dem Mikhaylov

  “Is that bad?” Asked the bald elf, without any flaws in his speech.

  “I do not know,” I confessed. “Maybe it is for the better. As for the adventures - well, there will be dark, wet and dangerous.”

  “Let’s do it!” Replied the anglers in chorus.

  At this, the conversation ended. Sliding down from Kolyvan, I passed the arguers - their number had increased to five and Bom began to resemble a mother bear waving away four hungry wolves. Heading for the bridge, I told them him story in passing.

  “Tonight. The whole group. Like the good old days.”

  "Not a problem, Boss. I am always glad. I will just set a good price for the fish and begin to prepare. And the rest, too. Ros, do you remember? Awards are given there — for our heads. Dead or alive. In those places.”

  “For the heads of unknown thieves,” I recalled. “Our names are clean.”

  "As long as one clan is silent ..."

  “While they are silent - we are too,” I shrugged my shoulders. “We will figure it out. What, is it our first time or something?”

  Chapter Nine.

  Wet nostalgia.

  Karst Caves.

  Until quite recently, this was a beautiful place.

  The river was nearby, and the creek that flowed into it came from a slope in a mountain. There were also some necessary buildings - a watchtower, a shopping canopy, a stable, a pair of sheds. The guards walked slowly, smiling at you as you went. Merchants cheerfully sold unvarnished goods - bundles of smoked and dried meat, torches, the famous "AntiProt" boots, spare bowstring bow, ordinary arrows, knives, flasks and other items that any adventurer could need to venture into the underground darkness of the Karst Purgatory.

  Players in colorful clothes scampered from side to side, asking lots of questions and getting the same number of answers. Among them strode those who were marked by cloaks with a large scarlet cross - the owners of the local lands, representatives of the clan of the Scarlet Cross. And all this bubbling of life took place against the backdrop of spacious green meadows, peaceful green hills and a full-flowing river full of fish. It was possible to plunge headlong into a copy of the Middle Ages.

  Near the entrance to the dangerous dungeon, the voices of players eager to assemble a group of adventurers sounded. They wanted to descend together into the darkness and begin the extermination of the vile kobolds, who had been plotting insidious plans. In passing, they were going to earn some trophies, fight through the whole dungeon to the exit, and fall lightly on the green grass with jubilant cries: “Yes! We did it! We managed!”

  The bravest heroes could risk it, and descend to the lowest level, where the main forces of the kobolds lived and their mighty leader saddled a giant white steed.

  Below was danger. Above - peace and silence. The perfect balance.

  That was how it was. But now, everything had changed. Although this was not true — everything remained the same. Just a lot of new elements were added, ones that changed the atmosphere dramatically. To begin with, two tall stone towers now stood next to the old watchtower. Near it was a wooden palisade. It protected the shops and the old tower, as well as the entrance to the dungeon. Two powerful arrow-bolts charged with arrows tips lined the wall. Explosive arrows. Guards were on duty nearby, whose cloaks and banners flying over the towers clearly indicated the clan of the Scarlet Cross.

  You could go in only through the two towers. In front of the entrance and in front of the palisade was a line of sharpened stakes – “slingshots", it seems. They looked impressive. And many, many torches. On three-meter high pillars. It was not as bright as it was in the day, but it helped a lot.

  And I'd been here before — and I too had built a team. We met here, sitting near each other near the fire, drinking wine.

  "They do not like you," I said quietly to Malice, who was standing next to me.

  “Huh?” He grunted, looking at the fortifications with surprise. He was also moving his fingers — obviously typing a message to his clan mates, perhaps attaching a screenshot of the changes of the recently peaceful area. That said that the Evil here before was, or from the descriptions knew about how this area looked before.

  "When we came here without you, it was not like that," I explained.

  “Very funny,” the paladin Ahn grunted. “But you’re right – they were not so heavily protected before. Who attacked them? Someone fanged and clawed? There are marks on stakes and the fence.”

  I noticed deep furrows on many logs and stakes — whole pieces of wood completely torn out. The earth was uncovered here and there, and there were burnt spots on the grass, as well as deep pits in a couple of places.

  "Let's ask," I decided, and took a step towards the hasty "local" peasant who was carrying two sacks on his shoulders. “Hey, you.”

  “Lord Rosgard!” The "local" broke into a wide smile. “You haven’t visited us in a long time! The village has not forgotten your goodness! If you decide to visit Selenium, I will be glad to treat you to dinner!”

  “Thank you very much,” I put my hand to my heart. “I will not forget the invitation. Let me ask, friend, ... why is everything here so different? Who are you defending yourself from?”

  “Oh! There was some really bad trouble!” The guy almost dropped his bags. “Do you not know, friend Rosgard?”

  “I was in distant lands. Have returned only now. So, what happened?”

  “Werewolves! Werewolves attacking us! In flocks! There is no peace here. One farm was completely ruined, no one there survived, all ripped to shreds! Over that line beyond the hill — there, only two survived! And when we kill some — new ones appear! It is terrible, friend Rosgard! Be careful. You chose a dangerous time to visit. When the alarm goes off, the arrows of fire will whistle, and a terrible roar will be heard across the land!”

  "Werewolves," I said in astonishment.

  “Yes! Beasts! And why do they attack us? Did we make the gods angry? I do not know – the werewolves kill the kobolds too, if the wolves manage to get inside the Caves. We thought it was just us, but no! Kobolds in shreds! The werewolves walk down the aisles underground, killing all living things, and searching, searching, searching…”

  “And what were they looking for? Kaylen asked with animation, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

  "Motherfuck ..." I whispered softly, having already made a guess.

  "They are looking for their leader!"

  “The leader?” Asked Kirea the Protectress. “What leader?”

  “The silver werewolf!” Quietly whispered the man, dropping his bags and crossing himself with a protective sign. “That's who they are looking for!”

  “Ugh,” I breathed out. “Total shit…”

  “And why do they come here to look for him?” Puffed the man. “There was no such creature in our lands! No silver werewolf. Well, all right, friend Rosgard. Take care of yourself!”

  "Likewise," I said, waving goodbye. And then, I turned around and, pointing my finger at Kaylen's opened mouth, said: "Not a word! I must tell you all something. Come closer.”

  All obediently crowded towards me. Even Tyrant thrust his face close, his wolf eyes glowing with sincere curiosity. After all, it was my fault — I was the one who cut off the head of the werewolf, Tyrant’s father. Roska looked just as interested. I hope she did not know that I cut off the head of Tyrant's father.

  “Not one word about the work done by us on the lower levels,” I said, not mincing my words —gazing intently at each member of the group.

  Not everyone understood my words.

  “What was the "business done by us"? The paladin raised his eyebrow, standing behind us.

  "A secret!" I snapped.

  "It is not good to keep secrets from friends!" Said someone from below.

  Whisper.

  Another super player of Sleepless, who managed to press us to let him go with us - although we did not ask for his help. More recently, the spy had done everything to be with us through everything. And, I
think, not out of love for our company. Now the spy was sitting inside our circle and looking like a smiling idiot.

  "We are not hiding anything from friends," Bom noted, looking at the spy from above.

  "So that's how it goes, huh. And who saved you from death? Who rushed at the feet of a monster running towards you and wrapped his legs with a chain? Who!”

  "You screwed that up too. And at the same time were yelling, scared to death: "Distract him! Distract him!” I have a record.”

  “Right!” I rumbled. “Not a word about the silver werewolf! We do not need unnecessary problems!”

  "But ..." Kaylen began.

  “No means no! Why did we come here? I will answer - to catch a giant white steed. Meanwhile we will get a bit of experience, some trophies, and some fun. Werewolves are not our business.”

  "Hmm ..." Said the paladin Ahn, still scratching his eyebrow thoughtfully. I ignored him, intending to reiterate the instructions, but then I heard someone call me.

  “Rosgard! Are you Rosgard?”

  Straightening, I turned. A player. Almost the two hundredth level – a warrior. Human. He was gray-haired, but his face was very young. On the left shoulder hung an iron shield and he was holding a long sword. Gaming nickname – The Widow-maker Swordsman. There were three more behind him. A girl shooter with a crossbow charged with five bolts. And two magicians. All their levels were just below the hundred and fiftieth. All were standing in picturesque poses, their hands on their weapons or on their magic wands. One of the mages was frozen in a strange pose - as if he was kicked into the ass, causing his hips to go forward, while the top of his torso remained tilted back. His arms were raised, his fingers twisted. The expression on his face was such that it gave me chills. And all of the four were members of the Scarlet Cross, the clan so well known to me.

  A red line blinked fiercely before my eyes. I was under the influence of something, and I could not use teleportation. Judging by the faces of the rest of my team, they were not affected by anything like this. What have they affected me? The magic? Who sent? That guy in a weird pose?

  "Rosgard," the Widower repeated joyfully, defiantly removing the sword. "Wow. Rosgard himself…”

  “Yes,” I nodded, frantically trying to understand the reason for such a "cordial" meeting.

  I did not have to think about it for long. Cedric. The ruler of the local lands. The governor. A fanatical collector. A friend of the Scarlet Cross. We had robbed him. Frightened his daughter. And at the same time, had found the Scarlet Crusader - the leader of the almost homonymous clan - in a very piquant dress and position. In general, the Scarlet Cross had reasons to look for me. On the other hand - we had made an oral agreement with the Crusader…

  “Come here,” beckoned the Widower. “Do not try to flee - our magic holds you.”

  Holds? I was right…

  “Well, here he is,” Malice lazily drawled. “So what?”

  "And who is this second rate magician?" Asked Whisper.

  The Widower’s expression changed so dramatically that it immediately became clear that he recognized the players who had appeared before him. One of the coolest stealth killers in the game, and an even cooler fighting mage of the Sleepless clan with his arsenal of unique spells. I felt myself now as a country boy, under the protection of two nobles. And the Widower probably felt like a fool. He put his sword away, and his hands dropped. I was instantly freed of the restraining magic, as indicated by a brief green message.

  The air around us literally thickened. All stood motionless, afraid to provoke someone towards destructive actions. Especially Malice, I think. He only had to move his finger and everything here would flood with liquid fire. Or he could cover the camp with a deadly cold, having spoken an incantation.

  Little by little, the players stopped short. The high levels of the players terrified them. After all, everyone in the district was aware that the clan of the Scarlet Cross defender of the weak, destroyers of evil, and so on and so forth…

  “What are you all doing here?” Said the Widower, offended.

  “Passing through," replied Malice. "Would you move?”

  “But you were…”

  "Moron!” A new voice sounded, belonging to a chain mailed knight who had just emerged from a flash of teleportation. “That’s the Great Navigator! Are you blind?!”

  "Precisely," Whisper said lazily, looking at the Scarlet Crusader from head to foot.

  Fireworks erupted around us — dozens of teleportation flashes put new members of the Crusaders onto the green meadow. Warriors, mages, arrows, necromancers and priests. They kept on appearing. A dozen teleporter opened in the sky, spitting out birds and flying lizards with riders on their backs.

  “And here it is,” Malice sharply spread his hands. Above us appeared an iridescent greenish-blue ghostly light, which covered us like a dome. “An assault on Sleepless ...”

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!” The crusader screamed so loudly that crows shifted anxiously on the distant pines, and all the players froze in place - all but us.

  We slowly moved back, gathering into a dense group. And none of us thought to reach for the transfer scroll. I immediately realized that Malice and Whisper would not run. And neither would their recruits – not the paladin nor the girl. They would not give the Crusaders clan a chance to say later in a prideful manner - "The Sleepless ran from us like chicken from foxes, Malice himself with Whisper right behind...” The mage and spy clearly understood this. The clan’s honor was at stake.

  “Shut up!” The roar of the Crusader surpassed all expectations. A flock of crows hastily withdrew from the branches and flew away.

  “Dad, and these men and women bad?” Asked Roska, sitting on the back of the giant wolf.

  "Uh ..." I thought, putting my hands in front of me, charging them with Thorny Forest.

  “They used to be good,” said Whisper, taking out his whip. “Do not speak ill of the dead.”

  Okay. The situation was crystal clear. The Sleepless did not intend to play nice, despite the obvious attempts of the leader of the Scarlet Cross to put out the flame. I had only a couple of thoughts in my head - my daughter was again on the point of attack. We had not come not to fight, but to catch a white proteus…

  “Have you lost your minds?” Kirea’s voice sounded so unexpectedly that the Crusader stopped short, and Whisper started: "Roska, let us go, dear, I will buy you some smoked meat."

  “Hooray! And Tyrant, too! And will we have time to fish in that river? And can we take Uncle Orbit with us?”

  “Yes,” said Kira, quietly bypassing the Crusader, who was frozen in place. She passed between the others of the Scarlet Cross, and moved towards the village. “Tyrant, too. I will buy him some. As for fish… not sure if there are any.”

  “Oh! Oh!” Roska suddenly jumped on the back of a black and white wolf. “Question! Question! This is an important question!”

  “What?””

  "We're going into the dark caves, right?"

  “Right…”

  "Will Kolyvan get in there?" Roska pressed her hands to her cheeks and rounded her eyes.

  “Kolyvan?” Kirea turned to us.

  I turned and saw the bald elf, clasping his hands to his cheeks and rounding his eyes. Behind the elf stood a giant shaggy mammoth, behind whom the flame of teleportation faded quickly.

  "He will not fit, probably," Kirea said thoughtfully, taking Roska off the wolf. "Let's go."

  “Maybe it will,” the voice of an archer from the Scarlet Cross, sounded, lowering his bow. “If he crouches down…”

  “He will not,” a girl wizard shook her head.

  “He will!” Said a third confidently.

  "He will not!" Several other players said in chorus.

  “Why do you think our mammoth will not fit into your cave?!” Cried Whisper, spreading his hands and his fingers. “He'll fit in! Of course!”

  "It is unlikely," a Crusader said diplomatically.

  “No way,” I not
iced, passing by him and speaking quietly. “The mammoth will not fit.”

  "Our mammoth will fit anywhere!" Malice screamed, rushing after me.

  "Oh, no he won’t," Cray crooned behind me.

  “You're always so pessimistic,” Kaylen said, puffing up her lips.

  “Well, maybe he will,” Cray corrected himself. “If he sucks in his stomach and crawls.”

  "Interesting," the elf sighed, holding the trunk of the Kolyvan and leading the mammoth behind him.

  Doc chose to remain silent, thoughtfully removing two long luminous whips from his backpack.

  One by one, we went inside the caves, and my memories came back to me again. Here I had met Grim, here he had told me his story and here I had fought him to the death.

  “I’m making a party! I need a magician and healer!” A fat gnome came up to us. Then he opened his eyes and saw Malice in all his glorious grandeur. Quickly orienting, he poked a finger at Malice and said - “I will take you for sure. I will give you five percent of the booty.”

  "What generosity," Malice murmured.

  “Bullshit!” Said Whisper, who had managed to remove his chain. “Do you not see - we are busy! Leading the mammoth into the cave!”

  “What for?” The gnome was amazed.

  “It is necessary!” Several players declared in chorus, following Orbit and Kolyvan to the cave.

  "He will not!"

  “He will!”

  "If he does, he will not pass along the corridors!"

  “It depends!”

  "I will put five gold pieces in!"

  “I accept!”

  “No way in a thousand crocodile smithereens!” Again shouted the Whisper, grabbing the hand of one of the nearby fighters of the Scarlet Cross. “I bet a hundred gold pieces - the mammoth will fit in!”

  “I accept!”

  The strange saying of Whispers was explained by the following - I had asked him not to swear around my daughter. My request was not always remembered, but still, they tried.