“What are you doing, Wise?!” Mashta shouted, looking around as she ran, eyes flashing angrily. “It’d be better if we split up! Maybe some of us will manage to escape! A word of advice, abandon the Raksh! Better yet, order him to lead them away so that you could escape!”
“Calm down. There’s another option.”
“I’m wasting my breath… Piss off!”
“You won’t reach the Fortress. You’re not the best runners. In addition, they can split their group into two, and go after both you and Rawrk. It’d be better if you followed the two of us to the gorge leading to Shriek Plateau. We’ll leave through a lair. It’s a new one, so there’s a good chance that we won’t die right away...”
“This is madness! This isn’t a plan, it’s a...”
“It’s much better than letting them finish us off one by one,” I interrupted.
“You don’t understand! That’s a raid lair! We all know about it, especially the Dions!”
“Shit...” I left it to Fury to choose the way and started thinking. “The Dions got to Shriek Plateau through that lair? One can hardly climb with their build... The difficulty will be increased because it’s a raid lair, yeah? So you think the plan is insane?”
“Not only that! This lair is always a rank three one, and in order to get into it, at least one player in the party must be of the same rank!”
“Damn...” I swore under my breath. “But wouldn’t it be possible to slip through with Chula? She’s level twenty-three!” I said.
“We’re not suicidal!”
Suppressing the desire to leave the stubborn girls to solve their problems on their own, I glanced over my shoulder. The situation hadn’t improved. Rather, it got worse. Rawrk was slowly catching up with us and would soon be close. But one of the stubborn dogs, far ahead than the rest, chased him, lagging behind only by a hundred feet. The system highlighted it.
Blood Hound
Level 25
HP: 1,400
Creature of Chaos
Its lean body, covered with black, glossy scales, was flying over the snow, barely touching it with its six paws. Hot steam was pouring from its nostrils. Its narrow mouth was littered with sharp fangs, and its two pairs of yellow eyes burned with ardor of a hunter about to catch its prey. What a monster... And there’s a ten level difference... Without Stinger, we shouldn’t even think about engaging in a fight… Maybe we could try to keep it at a distance and kill it with spells?
The pack of Hounds was advancing down the hill from which we had fled a few minutes ago. Justifying my fears, at the foot of the hill, the pack divided into two. Obeying their masters, the agile creatures got ready to intercept those who decide to detach themselves from their group. Judging by the speed with which these creatures were advancing, they were likely to be successful in their endeavor.
While I was coming up with a plan, Fury fell a little behind the girls, and I had to mentally spur her in order get closer again.
“Mashta! We mustn’t separate!” I said.
“Leave me alone!” she replied angrily, face red as an overripe tomato.
“Just look behind you, you dimwit!”
“Who are you calling a dimwit?!” She shouted but looked back all the same. Stumbling over something, she almost tumbled downhill. Jumping back to her feet, she ran even faster, no longer looking around.
“Do you get it now? There’s no other way!”
“This is all your fault!” she cried out furiously, instantly losing her cool. There was visible anger in her glistening eyes.
“You better save your breath,” I advised. “We still have a long way to go. We’ll have time to quarrel later.”
Shutting up, she put her legs to work. The wind made her fur cloak flutter behind her. Chula running ahead looked like a furry projectile.
Chapter 48
For the next ten minutes, we ran in silence. When Fury leaped over the familiar foul stream, Rawrk finally caught up with us.
“Rawrk catch up!” he hoarsely reported.
“Well done, friend. Don’t waste your strength on talking now.”
We carried on together. I sent a party invite, and everyone accepted it without objection. Rawrk and I could easily outrun the hapless scouts, but to leave them alone at fate’s mercy would be an awful thing to do. In the end, it turned out that it wasn’t us who were in trouble, but them. Their Invisibility had a thirty-minute cooldown, but even with it, they left footprints behind, and their smell would lead the Hounds to them without difficulty.
But we had to do something about the one that was ahead of its pack; a bit longer, and the stubborn creature would be breathing down someone’s neck.
“I’ll catch up, go on without me.”
Having issued the order, I stopped Fury and waited for the Hound to come within Soulcatcher’s range. Remembering how its thread had let go of the Fangore once I was about fifty feet from it, I hit the Hound with Lash. Like the last time, it worked out rather poorly, as the difference in levels was too big. It faltered, but quickly recovered. But then, Lich’s Grasp got activated and I realized that I might’ve spent and esc in vain. Even if by some miracle the Grasp worked on a level 25 creature and I won, I wouldn’t have time to loot the esc from its corpse. But I couldn’t stay idle either.
As soon as the dagger plunged into its head, the Hound tottered from side to side, like a drunk, and then fell face-first into the snow. However, it managed to rise and continue its pursuit, even though its speed got halved. Soulcatcher drained three hundred of its HP and would continue to drain it for the next 30 seconds. Things were seemingly going my way, but I still couldn’t figure out how I had managed to perform such a successful strike when I was fighting the Matriarch. Was it because of Stinger? Did some of his tricks had something to do with it? Or was it a unique combination of unknown factors that would probably never happen again?
I wanted to growl in frustration along with Fury, who was eager to fight despite the fact that the enemy was way out of her league. We rode away, increasing speed once more. Thirty seconds had passed, but Lich’s Grasp didn’t work. Another thirty seconds later, it became clear that to apply the skill again would be in vain; natural regeneration had restored a significant part of the Hound’s HP.
By the time we had reached the gorge, I managed to hit the Hound with Lash three times. Only after that, having learned its lesson, did it remain at a distance from which I could properly fight it. In the meantime, its brethren began to join it. I didn’t dare to restrain Fury and spend another esc, as it would be better to save the consumables for the lair, where the outcome of the fight would depend on mutual effort, and not on futile, heroic attempts of an individual. Not to mention that Fury was starting to get tired, too. We’d be wise to keep unnecessary maneuvers to a minimum.
I caught up with my group. The Hounds, huddled together and rather far behind us, were still relentlessly chasing after us. Stubborn creatures. It seemed to me that two or three of them differed from the others. They were larger, with humped backs, but that was about all that I could see from Fury’s back.
We ran past the geysers. We had to be fast to avoid the Crocbeasts which, although slow, would show no mercy to anyone who stopped or had the misfortune to slip and fall. Shortly after, we heard the Hounds engage them in battle. Their clash raised so much clatter that the snow on the slopes threatened to turn into an avalanche. However, everything turned silent suspiciously quickly.
I looked around, already guessing what I would see. We knew not how many creatures lived among the geysers, but the Hounds dealt with them effortlessly, and the pack caught up with us quickly and without losses. If they attacked our group at once, we wouldn’t be able to do anything. Their levels ranged from 21 to 26, and Chula was the only one who could put up a fight. But she couldn’t do much on her own. It sucked to feel like cannon fodder because of crappy game conventions.
The Lowlings were already exhausted, and Rawrk looked pathetic; his eyes were wild, his mo
vements nervous, and he kept stumbling. However, we hadn’t lost hope. A couple of hundred feet ahead was the scarlet haze of the lair’s entrance. Noticing it, we all gave a final push, draining reserves of strength we didn’t know we still had.
But less than a hundred feet separated us from the Hounds that were rapidly closing the distance between us. We had mere seconds left to reach our goal. Rawrk had taken the lead a long time ago and was already running up to the lair. I should’ve done the same, and left the girls behind. But that would’ve been unreasonable. I haven’t done so not even because I refused to be like them, with their intrigues and backstabbing, but because the four of us would have higher chances of survival than just the two us. Not to mention that we had no way into the lair without Chula. And I couldn’t abandon Fury.
But then Masha gave up.
Halting abruptly, she turned to face our pursuers. She was breathing heavily, beads of sweat glistened on her flushed face. With one hand, she snatched the sling from her belt, and took a projectile from the pocket on her jacket with the other.
Having rushed past her, I turned Fury around and ran back to Mashta.
“What are you doing?! You’ll get us all killed! Run!”
“You’re all leaving. I’ll distract them as long as I can,” she said wearily. “Chzher needs you, the outcasts need you.”
“I’m not leaving without you!” Chula returned and stood next to her. She, too, was drenched in sweat and exhausted from the run. To think that such a shy and meek girl would turn out to be so brave. Their friendship was admirable, but her heroism was borderline stupid. And frankly, that’s the last thing I needed right now.
“Chula, don’t be a fool, no one will get into the lair without you!” Mashta shouted.
“We either leave together or we fight together!” Chula stubbornly retorted. “That’s my decision!”
“You’re both nuts!” I shouted angrily. Fueled by my emotional outburst, Fury snarled and spun around, lifting snow with her paws. “Run, Alan damn you!”
“Go away, Wise,” Mashta answered almost calmly, concentrating on the upcoming fight. “If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll manage to climb the wall. We cannot do this without a rope.”
No longer listening, the two rogues almost simultaneously threw their projectiles. The party battle log noted that Racial Trick was used for the first strike. And we got to see first hand what it was.
Having erupted mid-flight, the projectiles showered the approaching pack with debris and each found its own target. Two Hounds fell down and tumbled away, taking along some of their neighbors with them. The girls switched to basic shots, waiting for the Trick’s cooldown to end. They worked at an incredible speed, sending projectiles every two to three seconds. Just a moment ago, the pack had been confidently charging toward us, but the whole situation got turned upside-down. The Hounds, squirming in the snow, blood gushing from their wounds, pushed each other as they struggled to rise, only to be knocked down again. It seemed that even the Lowlings themselves didn’t expect to be this successful. Screaming happily, they quickly used up all of their ammunition.
And then the Crocbeasts showed their ugly snouts.
It turned out that the Hounds hadn’t dealt with them, but followed our example and slipped past them. But this time, the agitated beasts decided not to let the trespassers go unpunished. Several massive dirty-brown bodies, levels from 26 to 28, stomped over on their six feet, and set to work, feasting on the wounded Hounds. A cacophony of howls rose echoed throughout the gorge. The Crocbeasts, working with merciless relentlessness of a garbage compactor, crushed bones, tore off limbs and broke spines with their mighty jaws; projectiles, thrown without a specific target in mind, only added to the chaos and pain.
But it was enough to cast a glance a little past the slaughter for me to decide that I didn’t want to stay here any longer than it was necessary. Exiting the gorge, the first Demons emerged into the open, clad in crimson-black armor, with fiery blades in their clawed hands, and ready for battle. Snow evaporated under their heavy gait. The system introduced under such names as Punishers of the Primordial Flame, Tormentors of Flesh, and Deceivers of Death. I saw none below level 25. They’re quick, damn it...
I made Fury walk in front of the Lowlings, blocking their view, and crouch.
“Enough! Hop on! We have to leave while we still can!”
Mashta shook her head. “That won’t work. She’s your pet, we can’t ride her...”
Already tired of losing precious time, I got very angry. I unceremoniously grabbed Mashta by her waist — she was as light as a ten-year-old — and placed her on Fury. Another jerk, and Chula, who screamed in surprise, landed behind Mashta. It was unlikely that they weighed more than me.
“Fury, you’ll have to endure it!” Shouting at the Direcat growling in discontent, I ordered her to set off toward the lair. Before rushing in after them, following my gut feeling, I looked around once more.
A very plump Crocbeast, who slept through all the fun and woke up only when its whole pack had gotten into a fight with the Hounds, emerged from the sulfuric fumes of the gorge and attacked the vanguard. But before it even had the time to regret its rash decision, the five foot long sword of the nearest Punisher greeted it with its fiery blade. One strike was all it took. Without slowing down, it swept past the decapitated beast. Paying no attention to the hostile terrain, the Punisher continued across the Crocbeast territory. It didn’t care about the acidic puddles, as it either had high acid resistance, or complete immunity.
I wasn’t sure where to look first, as danger lurked all around us. Focusing on the skirmish between the Hounds and the Crocbeasts, I finally realized why some of the former seemed “humpbacked.” The Hounds themselves were the same as all of the rest, and it was their riders, relatives of Bully Imps, who made them look as if they had a hump. They were scrawny creatures with horned, triangular skulls and long tails with forked tips, and dirty white scaly skin. Was I imagining it or…?
Avoiding the scramble, and crouching to stay out of sight, these creatures have been approaching us this entire time. In their hands they held darts.
Guide of the Guile
Level 25
HP: 900
Creature of Chaos
Alas, I spotted them only at the moment when the Guides, having dropped their camouflage, were already raising their weapons for an attack. Without hesitation, I attacked the nearest one with a Lash-Soulcatcher combo. The Sign burned my skin, covering everything before my eyes with a purple veil. Whatever circumstances had to happen for the attack to work finally happened. The Demon was thrown away like a ragdoll, and its corpse sunk into the snow.
Guide of the Guile has been defeated!
XP received: 4,000
But the second Guide managed to hit me. I didn’t even see it when it moved its hand, releasing several darts at machine-gun speed. Life flashed before my eyes, as they flew few inches past my face. But the target wasn’t me. From behind me sounded a short, child-like cry. Chula’s icon instantly flashed red.
Enraged, I attacked the creature with both Windspear and Flamespear. Once again, the attack caused incredible damage! Lighting up like a Christmas tree, the Guide opened its mouth and wheezed in pain. However, it managed to flick its hand again before it collapsed dead onto the snow.
Guide of the Guile has been defeated!
XP received: 4,000
Too late.
This time there wasn’t even a scream.
Running after the retreating Fury, I continued hoping that the several darts that were sticking out of Chula’s back and the skull and crossbones symbol over her gray icon were just an optical illusion. But they weren’t. Chula had died quietly, matching her character, hugging her friend, acting as her shield. She never fell from Fury’s back on their way to the lair; Mashta and Rawrk had to take her off and lay her on the snow after they had removed all of the darts. I arrived by the time they had finished. Mashta looked at me with a scowl, but said n
othing, and remained kneeling near Chula.
Still hoping for something, I stepped toward the entrance of the lair, and tried to remove the translucent membrane with my hand; it was solid as glass. An electric discharge burned my palm, leaving sparks around my fingers and making me back away. Access was denied, as Mashta had warned.
I turned to face our enemies.
The Demon convoy had slowed down, leaving a trail of Crocbeast corpses behind. Five surviving dogs were running around them, while another one lagged behind, limping. The Creepoars also knew that we had nowhere to go, and were no longer in a hurry. The Guides did their job; they’ve knocked out the one who was supposed to let us into the lair. I had made the mistake of underestimating them; they were quite intelligent. Even if we still wanted to climb the wall, we couldn’t. The enemies wouldn’t allow us to do it and would attack us with darts, spells, and finish us off with their swords. Things couldn’t get any worse.
“They want to take us alive,” Mashta said gloomily look, observing the approaching enemies.
“Alive? What for?”
“That’s how they are,” she said flatly and shrugged. “They enjoy tormenting their victims.”
Her tears had already dried and the fear in her eyes was replaced by determination. She definitely wasn’t going to let them take her alive.
Can’t get any worse, eh? Boy, was I wrong. Hm, now that I think about it, spiritually, the Demons could probably be perfect neophytes for my patron... I mean, Lash of Pain is a pretty nasty spell... Although, I might be stereotyping here, as I don’t know anything about Alan, except that he gives good buffs and bonuses.
“Wise?” Mashta called again.
“What?”
“You’re an asshole, Wise,” she said and fell silent.
Of course, blame me for everything. Who else? How predictable. However, I myself wanted to pin the blame on someone else and take my frustrations out on them, so I understood her. I tried to abandon the Chaos Lair quest in order not to lose 50% of current level XP upon death, but couldn’t. The system didn’t seem to allow cancellation. Unable to stand it any longer, I cursed through clenched teeth, earning sidelong glances from my companions. Rawrk stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder, not taking his burning eyes off the Demons.
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