“Where are you going?” A Crusader stopped beside me.
"Just going," I said with a sigh. "How are things?"
“Are you the silver werewolf?” The leader of the Scarlet Cross looked at me inquisitively.
“Huh?”
"Do not pretend to be stupid. It was you, who arranged the mysterious battle that took place here. Such a scale even the kobolds scattered with a frightened squeal. One player-archer remembered your nickname - you did not take him with you then. He was so offended by the refusal that he remembered you. Then he grew up, became one of our recruits, and then he remembered everything about you when we started to try to find out who killed the wolf monster inside the dungeon. After all, werewolves attacking us after that...”
"I do not know what you are talking about," I shook my head.
“Come on, Ros! Don’t be a jerk!”
"We were here for experience and trophies. What kind of mysterious battle were we talking about, if it was the first time we united in a group? Right before the dungeon. If the unprepared archer remembered, as I had not taken him into group, so he should remember how I recruited this group.”
“Right, he did,” said the player with the monstrous 291 number in level. The Scarlet Crusader was a real monster, capable of killing a dozen players in one stroke. Especially if he armed himself with that sword with a blue sparkling blade.
"You took that time several players into party and left into the darkness. Ros, I cannot prove anything. We have only guesses,” the Scarlet Crusader said, bending slightly so that our eyes would be on the same level. “I really cannot prove anything. However, even if I could, with such support from Sleepless behind your shoulders, what is the use of my irrefutable evidence? You can easily send me to hell. And I cannot threaten you. If others can be frightened by a promise to give them a hell in Valdira, you would just laugh. And then the Black Demoness would come here and laugh too, before arranging a ruinous battle. Therefore, Ros — listen, why not just tell everyone about how I jumped around as a naked bunny in the estate of Cedric? Tell the whole world, and I will even confirm your story and publicly repent - but please, give me a hint!”
“Wow,” I was amazed. “A hell of a proposition…”
“It is so bad, Ros. And I am by no means an alarmist. Do you know that, for the Scarlet Cross, these lands are sacred?” The huge knight said.
“These were your lands,” I shrugged my shoulders. “And for a very long time. Your base.”
“Yes! These were our only possessions! Recently a war began in the north, and we clashed there with the Fire Vultures. And they lost. Our piece of northern territories began to belong to others. We have only these lands left.”
"The Fire Vultures?" I asked. “A familiar name...”
“Yeah! They recently broke the famous Dodecahedron egg, in the underground clan citadel of the Diamond Hammer clan.”
“And right after that they made a war in the north? Damn…”
“And not only with us! They began trouble with five clans at once — we were among them. And they won the war! Not alone, of course, someone supported them. We only messed with the Golden Templars – we won some battles. Only Fagnir Necrosis was a beast - he killed just under a hundred of ours! Fucking horse knight,” the Crusader shook his head, obviously driving away sad memories. “Overall, the Vultures now have a huge piece of territory in the north. Fucked up, right?”
“The Golden Templars. Right…”
“They are the worst. The Golden Templars. Young and feisty. How do you know them?”
“We faced them, once,” I said. “North of Algora, there was a divine portal and next to it a small fortress of the Templars. There, they arranged a slaughter for us ...”
“With new and terrible diseases!” Said the leader of the Crusaders. “Exactly! All of Valdira heard. There were some bad ones. And divine as well…”
“Hmm… that is right.”
"And notice – they went to the north! What are they doing there?”
“I do not know.”
“Yes, and not up to us. But Ros, these werewolves! They do not at all adhere to the cycle of the moon. Sometimes they come here in the afternoon! Right in the afternoon! Once a flock of them tore a hundred players to shreds! Right at the entrance! And our guards too, and then they cut the proteus to pieces, and the Kobolds, and almost reached the lowest level, where they are still trapped. It is even worse down there now… besides Kobolds, there are also vicious werewolves…”
"What a mess ..."
A scream came from a distance, filling the air with ringing
“Come on, come on!”
“He will! He will fit in!”
"What do you mean? He cannot even get his ears in – have you seen his ass?!”
“Hell yeah he will!”
“Hey! Do not push! Do not force it! And no magic!”
We listened to the players for a few moments, and then went back to conversation:
"They attack the villages, too. How can we stop them? And you still have to prepare for the trip! Build ships and protect them! And native lands are under the impact of evil ... the locals will ask, “Why was there was no protection from the Scarlet Cross? Why do you allow the death of husbands and wives, children and parents? And what about the other losses? Herds of cows, poultry, goats, sheep, horses?” They are gone by the hundreds. Have you ever seen a whole field strewn with thousands of ragged cow skins, broken horns, bones, hoofs, tails, skulls and cow eyes, lying separately? Have you?”
“N-no…”
As if Stephen King himself appeared and personally decorated everything! The sight was an awful! While I was standing there, holding on to my head, I began to feel that the eyes lying on the ground were following me and sometimes blinking ... And they looked with such sadness and reproach ... you did not save us, you did not save us from a horrible death...”
“Hold on,” I tried to support the unhappy man, trying to hand him a jar full of very good wine.
"If this continues, our reputation here will collapse completely. Players have already begun to avoid the local lands. And why should babies come here if they were killed on their third or fourth step? And even in the villages there is no protection – only if you reach the hotel. What about Valdira's the fucking Bulletin?! Scribblers the damned! Have you seen it on the news?”
I silently shook my head.
“Oh!” Crusader cracked his fists and began to recite with an expression. “It is time to put a cross on the Scarlet Cross - bloody and final! The defenders of the rich and previously peaceful lands suffer from a complete fiasco, unable to provide security to anyone, including themselves. The Bulletin of Valdira strongly recommends avoiding visiting the land that is … “Interrupting himself, the player finished his wine from the jar, and croaked: “I’d have killed that reporter! And not with a pen, but with an ax!” The furious cry of the Crusader spread to tens of meters to the side and in response there was the deaf but exultant trumpet cry of the mammoth Kolyvan.
"Soon we will lose the land. And then everything is over. We sail to the Lost Continent knowing that there is nowhere to go back - now it is more difficult to conquer our own lands. The continent is small, all nice places have been occupied long ago, and to move another clan ... this is heresy. To try and get the Sleepless to share something ... though they have hundreds of kilometers of personal lands, several islands, mountains, castles ... is insanity. We are against them ... ah! Ros, listen, we still restrain the werewolves, but they just won’t stop coming! Tell me - where do they come from? From what fucking bottle do they climb, so that we find its neck and plug it up? What do these creatures need from our lands? What are they looking for? And how can I fix this? If you really do not want to get involved - say so, I will believe you. But I really beg for a hint.”
“Oof,” I breathed out. “I did not expect such a mess. And it is implied that all this mess because of me. But it was only because of me. The guys from my group and the Slee
pless had nothing to do with it. In case you want to exact revenge.”
"To hell with revenge. It is unlikely that you did this just to turn our lands into a breeding ground for evil spirits.”
“I am telling you – I did not expect this. Someone approached us before entering the caves.”
"Yes,” confirmed the Crusader, straining like a hunting dog attacking the trail. "But I decided that it was a mistake. It couldn’t have been him.”
“In vain. That was a werewolf.”
“Bastard!”
“And he came here unexpectedly. He made me an offer, which we could not refuse. He passed with us through all the corridors, and then, when the time came and it was midnight, he turned into a silver werewolf. And we fought him. It was hard, but the creature was overwhelmed. After which he disappeared, leaving me with the gift of his own severed head - the wolf, not the human variant. An eared wolf head with a bared mouth. I took the head to the Guild of Mages of Algora, giving it to one of the high mages there.”
"So ... so ... this was … continue…”
"There's nothing more to say. We left. I myself am far from an expert, but I see two options. Either the werewolves are attracted to the place of death of that beast, or they come here on a pilgrimage. Or they are looking for severed head of the silver wolf.”
I kept silence about the locket. The Silver Legend cannot possibly have anything to do with what is happening. That was temple armor forged by a long-dead deity. Grim himself could not be reborn and leading the vindictive creatures – not even in the form of a ghost. Otherwise, he would have long visited me and whispered his plans into my ear.
The head.
Or the place of death.
I really do not see other options.
Looking at the Crusader, I advised:
“Either ask the Guild of Wizards, or inspect the place of death of the silver werewolf.”
“With whom in the guild should I speak?”
"With the supreme magician Tarnius. He is an arch mage, to be more precise. A tall and lean gray-haired old man in a purple robe. The chin of the strong-willed his gaze hard and piercing.”
"We shall try," answered the leader of the Cross. "We will definitely try, but it is unlikely it will help. Anyway, what could they want with that head anyway? It was not an artifact, was it?”
“No idea,” I shook my head. “Proof of murder, perhaps. To turn it to dust, to place it on a mantle…”
“But all the clues point to this…”
"He was kind of like a leader of werewolves,” I confirmed. "A sacred leader. Under his leadership, they began a bloody hunt for all living things in this random area. It could be revenge.”
“And that's really bad! What if they have a declaration like "until we kill ten to ten thousand, we will not give rest to these vile lands?" What then?”
"Then they will be your main enemy for a long time," I sighed. "Well … it couldn’t be helped.”
“The mammoth got in!” We were cheerfully notified.
Seated on the back of a giant wolf, Roska shone with joy like the spring sun. Standing next to her, Orbit beamed as brightly, and doubly - for some strange reason, his bald head glowed. Seemed like he smeared it with something. Damn elf…
“No roarr-r-ring anymore,” Orbit sighed. As if in confirmation, there was a new trumpeting sound from Kolyvan. As if in a train was roaring in a tunnel.
"His tail is sticking out," added my daughter.
“Oh,” I lifted a finger. “The genius of unpredictability and analytics!”
“What are you doing?” The Crusader was surprised, looking first at Roska, then at Tyrant. “And who is this?”
I understood his confusion. It was hard to not be suspect of the genius of a guy who decided to smear his own baldness with something glowing, pulling eccentric words out of his ass. He was also wearing clothes suited for the size of a half orc. Like a bag on a skeleton.
Ignoring the surprise of the unfortunate, tortured leader of the Crosses, I turned to the elf.
"Listen, there's something going on here. We killed a werewolf inside that dungeon. And after that, frenzied werewolves began to flock here. It is unclear where they come from. It is unclear why they do not stop coming. It is not clear why they attack and what they need in the dungeon. I gave the werewolf's head to the Guild of Magicians of Algora. Maybe they want the head? Why? To push a couple of electrodes into the skull of the silver werewolf and give it a static charge?”
"Oh," the elf said, looking at me with great admiration.
“What could it be?”
“The s-s-simplest variant,” the elf shrugged his shoulders, not straining at all. “It was the Kobolds. And we scored with the werewolf...”
There was a brief silence. Everyone looked thoughtfully at the ground.
“And can you be more detailed for people like me?” I had to ask.
“And me!” Nodded the Crusader, as he approached Orbit.
“Ugh ... Kobolds. Death of the werewolf.”
“More in detail. Much more detailed. Smash the conclusion into tiny pieces and rub it over my meager and feeble mind.”
"O-o-oh,” again the elf fell into catharsis.
"I'm begging you," I said.
“Easier, eh? So ...” and Orbit again lost its "stiffness" of his speech. “The Kobolds possess the magic of demonic callings. The place of death of the werewolf was a place where this was very strong. It was very easy to make a rite there. It is easy to summon the likeness of a creature that was killed there and whose strength filled the air and the walls. This was like a powerful stationary artifact with gradually fading force. If there exists wool or other parts of the dead creature, it is even easier to carry out the ritual. The silver werewolf – he is unique and iconic. A powerful beast and leader. The more creatures the kobold call - the greater the scatter in the coordinates. Carrying out the ritual – they called up many demonic werewolf like beasts.”
“Werewolf-like?” The Crusader clutched his head. “Demons?!”
"They are attacking in the daytime," Roska declared, to my surprise, and then said in a cautionary tone: "Werewolves attack at night and on the full moon only, sir. The ABC of the underworld."
“Demons,” nodded Orbit, looking at us with great boredom. “Bo-o-o-oring.”
“To hell with it!” The crusader said. “Was it really that simple?! Where were we looking?!”
"Daddy, you did understand everything right away, right?” My digital daughter looked at me with expectation and hope.
“Of course,” I nodded confidently. “I just checked with Uncle Orbit ... and I immediately understood. This is the ABC of the otherworldly, my dear.”
“Right!”
"They are doing a r-r-ritual,” the elf added.
"And we killed the werewolf,” I continued. “The Kobold spell casters come, quietly conduct a powerful ritual. Teleports everywhere and dozens of demons fall into this world. Only they do not care about the sunlight, it does not weaken them. The werewolves kill everyone around them, after which they try to break through to the lower levels for those who called. For what? In order to get revenge,” it dawned on me. “Demons hate those who call them with a passion! But you, the good defenders of the clan of the Scarlet Cross, kill the demons in the Nest, thereby protecting those who called them. And the kobolds again conduct the ritual, and again cause the demons ... and so on, in a vicious circle. Fiddlesticks!”
Orbit nodded silently.
"Oh," the crusader groaned in his voice. "It all seems so ... we are morons." We built fortifications defending those who attacked us and we brought all this trouble ... o-o-oh ...”
"The Scarlet Cross Clan is moronic?" Roska decided to clarify.
‘Yes, indeed,” Malice confirmed, with tragedy in his voice. “Full of morons. Hmm ... by the way, we pulled out Kolyvan! Only one ear pinched a bit ... Ros, it is time. Time is ticking.”
"I'm sorry," I nodded.
“Ros!” The knight's
knuckles clung to my shoulder. “Show us the place where you killed the cursed silver werewolf. Help me to finish this mess ...”
“Not enough time,” discontentedly said Malice.
"Why are you here?"
"We need a white proteus. Alive. Ros must catch it.”
“No problem! Ros shows us the place of the last battle. Then calmly descends a little lower and sees the last level of the dungeon completely cleaned from the monsters — with a solitary, jumping weakened little white proteus. And catches him.”
“Agreed,” instantly nodded Malice. “But we must hurry.”
"Two fighting detachments to me!" Cried the Scarlet Crusader, snatching his sword. “Prepare for the dungeon! Quickly!”
“Well, that’s settled,” I sighed. “Orbit, thank you. I owe you.”
"I'd like something interesting ..." the elf sighed, rubbing his left ear.
"Hmm ... do you want me to tell you about poster that hung in my bathroom a little while ago, right in front of the toilet? And about who was depicted on it? Not very cool or interesting, but at least it is something ...”
“Yes!” Hastily nodded Orbit. “I really do!”
"But only between us ..."
“Yes, Yes…”
"Then listen..."
And again we were inside the Nest.
But this time we did not feel any fear. And not the slightest piety.
Nevertheless, we were all seized with great awe when we saw the interior.
Apart from the murmuring, dripping and running water, there was nothing alive or moving. It was empty!
The stone corridor was completely cleared of living creatures. On each doorway where you could go down to the next level, there were one or two players from the clan of the Scarlet Cross.
I was happy to think of myself as a titled or even crowned person who slowly walks through the palace corridor straight to the throne room, passing by the faithful knights... But I doubt that, in the good old days, the knights would dare turn their backs to the monarch. So although the players of the Scarlet Cross stood in a close rank, we could not see their faces. Only the backs of their heads. It was for security.
The Way of the Clan 8 Page 19
