The Battle

by D. Rus

  Eva4. Star sector "Tumbol." Planet K8311R.

  The Juggernaut was sprawled out in the middle of a blue jungle. The golem still looked alive; the magic lanterns still gave off light, the turrets were moving, the force shield easily kept the curious hungry mammals at bay.

  But the technogenic world had already bitten into the unexpected treasure, greedily sucking magic out of its every available source.

  The pearl sparks in the vials were going out. The scrolls degenerated, turning into useless paper. And, worst of all, the accumulating crystals were growing dim.

  A few more days – a week at most - and the Juggernaut would turn into an expensive mithril coffin to be swallowed up by the jungle. There was no chance of making another carefully calculated leap into a different world this time. The nasty furry beast had stolen the golem’s heart!

  Inside the golem’s Control Room, a man was raging, beating his fists against the wall. The absence of regeneration did not surprise him. His gaze kept shifting from the empty Ruby Heart slot to the crooked sign on the wall as he descended into hysterics.

  The sign read, "Ya all’s gonna have to do without it! Agent Winnie."

  I searched my inventory and pulled out a mahogany box. Opening the carved lid, I admired the ten shiny gold Hero of Darkness stars. I picked one up. The number 001 was engraved on it.

  I reached for Winnie, but he lazily opened one eye and growled.

  I got up and ordered sternly, "Agent Winnie, hold still!"

  A microportal popped open, and the little animal sprang to attention before me.

  Hm, had Fall just played along and repeated my command to him?

  "For your great service to the Dark Pantheon, you are awarded the highest decoration: a Hero’s gold star!"

  Good thing he kept silent, or I woulda been shocked. Yet the Winnie was obviously glowing with pride. He was purring quietly.

  With much difficulty, I attached the star to his cuddly fur, then stepped back to take a look.

  The shaggy, knitted brows and the gold star on his chest stirred up funny memories. I could no longer refrain from smiling.

  Winnie shot me an angry look and instantly disappeared, deafening us ungratefully with the booming sound of a long-distance portal.

  The Fallen One ignored my eager look and slipped the jar into a spatial pocket. He then approached me and looked inside the award box. He chuckled approvingly, then passed his hand over the gold, turning the inscriptions into something more official.

  I read the new phrasing to myself,

  Hero of Darkness gold star, number 002.

  Highest Dark Pantheon award. Divine buff included.

  Effect Appeal to God. Uses left: 3 out of 3.

  Kickass... The Fallen One granted his heroes the right to ask a favor of him three whole times. This would definitely save someone’s behind more than once, or give them super-high standards in their personal life.

  The sound of metal clanging distracted me from my thoughts. Looking at the alien blue oasis which already had a medium-size solid fence around it, I nearly jumped. Aulë was digging his pickaxe into the violet ore mine!

  "Ahem... Dear Aulë, glad to see you on MY territory! How are you, what can I do for you?"

  The god prized out a glittering nugget, carefully picked it up and replied without turning around, "I already did it... Found a new mineral, studying it..."

  "Hm... Actually, this isn’t a new ore outcrop. It’s the result of a successful clan experiment of exchanging equal atomic masses between realities."

  Some troll, who was comically sneaking beneath a wall, stopped and butted in on the conversation, "What’s to study? It’s morphite, from Eva4. Where I was mining asteroids a few years before AlterWorld. Extremely rare and pricey stuff! Capable of remembering a dozen basic forms, altering its starting mass and volume by up to forty percent and, most importantly, assuming the structure of anything you mix it with! Toss a gold coin into the blast furnace, get a gold melt. Same thing for mithril!"

  "And adamant?" I asked eagerly.

  Oddly, the Fallen One answered that question, "I highly doubt it. Adamant has magical, not physical properties. Its appearance in reality is but the tip of an iceberg. But even so, this is quite an interesting find."

  "Morphite," Aulë whispered tenderly, passing his coarse fingers over the nugget. "I’ve been looking for you! How long I’ve been dreaming of an all-purpose weapon! Sheath your sword, and it will turn into a dagger, an axe, a shield, or a spear as needed! Or even into a pot, a chain or a ladder!"

  I frowned, annoyed. Aulë would take all the precious metal for himself for sure! Not that I wouldn’t have done the same, to get a divine supertool.

  Fall understood. "Aulë, bro, what’re ya hanging around for? We’re summoning Yavanna in five hours. You oughta be bathing in the baptistry right now, putting on cologne and fluffing up the pillows on your wonder-bed."

  The smith-god looked around in fear, hissed at the troll who instantly disappeared, then applied the Hood of Silence.

  "I’m scared, bro! You won’t believe it!" Lurch kindly relayed me their conversation. "I haven’t touched a woman for three thousand years! I forgot how it’s done, and frankly, I’ve lost confidence in myself..."

  Oblivious to the deadly consequences of having discrediting evidence against a god, I interfered with an unsolicited reply,

  "Just picture Yavanna, the way she really is! The smell of her hair, the soft skin, the hot breath; you can’t forget something like that! Remember her laughter, your best moments together, the joy of intimacy. Emotions are anchored in memories. They’ll come back, you’ll see!"

  Oops. Why couldn’t I just stay quiet?

  Aulë’s eyes flashed with rage as he grew beet-red. He squeezed his pickaxe so hard that his knuckles turned white. I’m dead!

  "Don’t do it," The Fallen One prevented his attack. "Besides, the First Priest gave ya some smart advice. Take it. Humans are great judges of feelings. And you, Max, use your head. Not all gods are so liberal. Just think: this is a real god in front of you, tens of thousands of years old, who’s just been diagnosed by a talking fly. Do you understand why Aulë reacted so?"

  "Yeah," I sighed with relief, then let myself go again and came up with a new idea, "And morphite can make a great wedding ring that turns into a nail file, scissors, a thimble, or anything that women carry around in their purses. I think Yavanna will like it!"

  Aulë nodded pensively, not paying much attention to what I'd said. His eyes grew dim. A silly smile appeared on his stern wrinkled face. The Father Of All Dwarves was remembering...

  Great is the power of a god. Aulë’s emotions thundered over the Valley as he lost control. Thank the Fallen One, these were pleasant ones.

  Lurch muttered in discomfort. The young hounds’ tails coiled up into doughnuts. The dwarves put away their pickaxes and hurried home. A population explosion in my lands was assured.

  Fall and I looked at each other, then quietly, on tip-toe, left the square, leaving the dreaming god alone with his sweet thoughts.

  Yavanna’s summoning unexpectedly turned into a grandiose event. The allies came, forming equilateral formations that filled up the entire temple building shaped as the Mercedes three-pointed star, the free space around it and the gently sloping hills.

  Aulë was glowing with pride. It was rare, extremely rare that a divinity got invited into the world deliberately. Especially with such a pompous and respectful reception.

  I looked at the crowd, enjoying my own blasphemous thoughts. Thank the lightsters and the Chinese for giving us a common enemy and kicking the alliance members outta their cozy little comfort zones. If not for the massive invasion, who woulda guarded the walls of the First Temple?

  Very few got violent, one out of ten thousand. This ratio was higher in-game, obviously; the imaginary invincibility, high pain threshold, and immortality all urged many couch warriors to perform military feats.

  But still, the percentage of those wi
th an "I don't care" attitude was infinitely higher. They would cling to their castle walls, withhold resources and gold which are the oxygen of all wars. They would hope till the very last moment that they would surely be spared. That the guns pressed to the back of their heads would misfire. Or that the cavalry would jump out from around the corner to rescue them.

  But now, the war was personal for everyone. Those who didn’t care got killed first. Our cause had been proclaimed just. We’d gathered huge forces, and defending the Motherland no longer looked like a suicide mission.

  The reluctant masses had slowly got worked up, brandishing their chipped swords in their puny hands. Their enthusiasm proved infectious. This is war!

  The Valley now had about sixty thousand Guards of the First Temple alliance members, and some Tobacco Alliance folks who had gotten dragged into the battle. Only eight thousand of them were warriors, and real warriors were even fewer. But still... I saw potential followers in the vociferous crowd.

  Many times I saw the refugees’ greedy eyes pass over the free, rich, well-protected lands.

  Having recovered from the initial shock, their clan leaders had begun to roam the territory, surveying the hills, the snug fields, mountain ridges and mines. They looked with jealousy at Fuckyall’s castle that was being built, fraternized with the dwarves, and trimmed their sails to the wind. The hostages didn’t want to keep the status of fleeing bums all their lives.

  As Lurch and our security watchdogs kept assuring me, twelve clans or more would be willing to become my vassals in the event of our victory.

  Next to the Immortal stood about twenty thousand dwarves. They had come to cheer on their god. They kept pouring out of the portal; mini-kids, mini-women, gray-haired elders and warriors who had exchanged their mining tools for battle axes and hammers. Some registered as NPCs. Others got identified as game monsters.

  I had no idea that so many dwarves had settled in our mountains!

  Sure, there were cases of individual dwarves disappearing, of shops closing, and even entire villages becoming deserted. And not just from our cluster.

  At times like these, I saw in my mind’s eye a dusty column of refugee dwarves. I could only wish them luck. But I could never have guessed that most of them were heading to my lands.

  If anyone was to hear about this outside the Valley, there would be an insane influx of those who wished to burst into the forbidden lands. Tens if not hundreds of players were looking for the quest dwarves that had disappeared. They wished to complete their quest or to get a new one. Or just to kill the poor guys for precious loot or for a third-party quest.

  The mass NPC disappearance interfered with everyone’s familiar leveling, equipment and commercial setups. The craftsmen and vendors were gone, depriving the gamers of the opportunity to learn rare skills or obtain unique ingredients.

  Commercial relations worsened because of this. Those who had discovered a few stacks of plain ancient stones in their inventories suddenly became millionaires as these stones had suddenly become ultra-rare items.

  There was a hunt for old abandoned game accounts. Old characters were revived, their inventories and stats closely re-evaluated. Rare item seekers sifted through the trash like old-school junkies through old ladies’ medicine chests, looking for suppositories to get high on.

  Well, at least a unique NPC monopoly was just as good a resource as an ordinary silver mine. Nothing was preventing me from setting up toll roads in my own lands.

  And no one should dare assume that the Valley is public property! There would be many who’d set impostors straight; from dragons to hounds to zombies, plus the dwarves renting the mountain ridge.

  The smart leadership and politics that I pushed for had long ago changed the life goals of thousands of sentient creatures. The Valley was now their home. They were interested in defending it and helping it prosper.

  Everyone who attended the summoning tossed a handful of gold coins at the altar and set a potted plant in whichever free spot they could find.

  I wasn’t sure that Yavanna would like the verdure, but the important thing was that the congregation believed in the gifts’ value. Many aspects of the divine mechanics were largely determined by the most trivial display of faith.

  I sensed that if we all renounced Lloth at once, the spider goddess would disappear from the world’s matrix, convulsing horribly.

  The celebration shone with color.

  Widowmaker was having a blast, putting to use his public celebration coordinator skills.

  Circulars from the smile and wave series were handed out to all those present, along with boxes of live butterflies and various flags.

  We didn’t know what was most precious for Yavanna so we bustled about, offering the goddess a luxurious temple, a gigantic altar cut from pure emerald and an enormous congregation of followers.

  Her husband was the bonus, who awaited her with a palpitating heart like an abandoned puppy. There was also a pile of gold taller than me and a multitude of blooming flowers in pots.

  I just knew that all this would make Yavanna weep and love us with all her heart!

  The alliance’s security officers darted about in the field, disguised as flower, beverage, and snack vendors. The disguise wasn’t the best: everyone wanted to buy something. My goblins goggled at the lines of customers forming before them.

  Lurch was furious that his garden was being trampled. But the affair proved highly profitable. I had to promise him handsome compensations and distract him with a stack of fresh gardening and landscaping magazines.

  Journalist accreditation was insanely expensive, but those interested were innumerable.

  It looked like we were gonna make a few bucks by day’s end!

  The House of Night elves stood in even ranks in the spot of honor. Today, their princess was entering her priesthood, and the prince would be in the gentle hands of the patroness of flowers, beasts, and birds.

  Most of the loyal Drow followed their leaders, though of course there was some opposition. The miasmas of Lloth’s Temple had poisoned the minds of many elders who were anxiously waiting for the princely couple to make a costly mistake.

  Widowmaker had informed most of the Elven houses of the summoning by sending out messengers. But you don’t change horses mid-stream. Seeing that we were on the threshold of utter defeat, few were willing to risk changing leaders.

  Almost all of the clans, however, had sent observers with generous gifts. The pile of gold grew, covering the Temple floor and turning it into a fairytale dragon’s cave.

  The game designers had got really naughty when it came to the AlterWorld’s coins. Being the size of cents, they weighed only a thirtieth of an ounce and were needle-thin. Yet their cheat status of an "indestructible" item prevented them from getting bent, cut, faded, remelted or forged.

  Minting quality coinage on your own was not that simple. In order to keep its weight and meet the minimum sturdiness requirements, one gold needed to be the size of a fish scale. And who was up for digging through their wallet with tweezers?

  Thus our find, the octagonal Eva4 coins, proved even more valuable. The forty million gold reserve allowed us to put them into circulation within the clan. But I kept putting it off, saving resources and aiming for a Valley-wide currency reform.

  Yavanna sparked the interest of many. She was a great fit for the world of might and magic, almost fully meeting the needs of one of the races, and also being an ideal match for many classes. Clerics, rangers, scouts, druids, and even stealthers – they all really needed the help of Mother Nature and her magic.

  As for the farmers, such a goddess was a dream come true.

  Charm a beast, blend in with the forest, create a Spring of Life, double the crops, wake the mind of a mighty oak – oh, how much the goddess was willing to offer us in order to return to the world!

  Our opportunity to level up hadn’t gone unnoticed. Even now I was watching the commands from the lead officers’ chat order high-level warriors t
o step out from the crowd.

  The pressure on Tianlong walls grew more intense every minute.

  Few of the assailants were players; the lightsies’ invaders had aped the Chinese strategy and were now crying out in joy, bringing down the last of the castle domes. Oh well, dream on, guys.

  Half an hour before the dome shields would give out, the properties would self-destruct. The enemy would get a punch in the face, not a warm bed in the donjon penthouse.

  Our cluster was raging. The crusades into the Russian lands drew more and more participants who fell on the weeping fields like hungry locusts.

  Several neutrals got attacked. Spots for siege machinery were being picked out beneath the walls of the castles of Light. Appeals to partnership helped little: the invasion forces wanted spoils, guided by the rule of force.

  Several citizens hoped that the attackers would be content with a few hundred castles and leave as they had come.

  But I had an insider’s view of things thanks to the GRU. I saw the full picture and had already exhausted myself telling others to join forces! If that wouldn’t happen, we could all consider ourselves an endangered species.

  While the lightsters were busy seizing easy targets and systematically slaughtering our allies, the NPCs of the Sun God and his pantheon attacked the walls of Tianlong. Boy, was he upset over the Dark Pantheon’s fortification.

  We were overcome with joy, having seized the opportunity to split up enemy forces. All were welcome: the griffins, battle unicorns, priests of various ranks and divinities, warriors of light and other such creatures. Their respawn took forever, and we could just use some extra loot and XP.

  But the fun didn’t last: the battle was getting ugly. The enemy studied our tactics while testing and improving his own attack plans.

  And Tianlong was getting weary of magic, slowly becoming incapable of blocking enemy blows

  Dong!!!

  Tired of waiting, Aulë hit the astral gong with his hammer.