by Pavel Kornev
So! They’d engaged heavy artillery! Far too late, sorry!
As I escaped my pursuers, I somehow managed not to lose my way in the maze of narrow streets and get back to the yard where Isabella had opened the portal. I took one step into it, then another — then I was propelled forward in a direction unknown, into the darkness of underground tunnels.
I collapsed to the floor, somersaulted and raised my flamberge, ready to defend myself from any pursuit, but the radiant entrance of the portal began to blink, then expired with a flash.
There! Take that! You won’t get me in here!
My hands were trembling so badly that it took me several attempts to sheath the sword. Also, a wayward arrow had pierced my back, so I had to extract it and cast it to the floor.
What a bunch of scumbags!
I had little doubt about the ambushers’ identity. Barth — or Garth — just couldn’t leave it alone, could he? Stubborn asshole.
Gradually I calmed down and freed my mind of all emotion in order to analyze the attack. It didn't take me long to work out that I’d had a miraculous escape. And miracles can be a capricious lot; you couldn’t really count on them. Although I had no idea where and when they might ambush me the next time, one thing was abundantly clear: my attackers wouldn’t repeat their mistakes.
If I didn’t find a way to promptly escape any potential traps, sooner or later Garth would get what he was after: my head, or rather, my skull. Portal scrolls wouldn’t cut it because they could be blocked. Also, they took time to activate. And building a portal to the world of the Dead took way too much time.
Having said that... With a cruel smile, I added the Bone Path to the Trump up My Sleeve. Now I’d be able to port to the crypt any time I wanted.
Actually, how about doing so now? What if those head hunters were already looking for me here?
I pondered about it for a while, then shook my head. They weren’t. There was no way they could find me here.
Gradually my extreme stress had abated. I reached for the mercenaries’ medallion I’d received from Lloyd.
Would you like to activate your contract?
Yes / No
Why not? It was high time to get on with it.
I clicked Yes.
Immediately the tunnels’ gloom was dispersed by the flashing of five individual portals.
One of them disgorged a dwarf with an enormous thick beard with lots of protection amulets braided in. He was clad in heavy armor from head to toe, which made his already stocky figure appear decidedly square. He was my new tank.
The tunnel’s floor shuddered under his weight. The dwarf warrior stood up straight behind his full-length shield. In his right hand, he was clutching a terrifying ax with a hooked spike on its reverse side.
Bloody Ax
Dwarf Bodyguard
Level 44
Although the top of the merc’s helmet barely reached my chin, the span of his shoulders was twice that of my own. With the aid of his shield, he was capable of blocking most of these tunnels easily while his powerful armor and maxed-out Stamina allowed him to withstand an avalanche of blows. Although he had Strength to match, his Agility left much to be desired while his Intellect and Perception weren’t even worth mentioning.
His Bloody Ax was a powerful weapon albeit slow and not too accurate. But even so he’d cost me almost 50% of the entire contract.
All the other mercs weren’t so impressive in size. They were rather slim, not to say slight: three healers and a cleric, all of them Dark Elves with unpronounceable names, levels 25 to 30. They had no armor or weapons with the exception of their staffs. They wouldn’t be much use in combat, but then Drow were never expected to fight hand-to-hand. The healers were going to take care of the tank’s health while the cleric would cast blessings on my team. I’d take care of the killing.
Although my plan wasn’t perfect, there was no way our enemy could surround us in these narrow passages, allowing us to systematically mangle them before venturing into the openness of the halls.
“Master!” the mercs said in unison. “We’re ready!”
I cast a studying glance over my new team, issued my first orders, then told the dwarf to head up to the next floor. Almost immediately, there was a hiccup. The three healers stepped back, surrounding the cleric, as if surrendering to his superiority.
What was that now?
A closer look at the Drow’s informal leader gave me my answer. I suppressed a knowing smile. The cleric was not an Elf but an Elfa: a scrawny girl, not very attractive but extremely morose.
“Okay, if that’s how you want it,” I heaved a sigh, pointing at the staircase. “Let’s get moving!”
Our next battle had to become a reality check for my plan. I was quite anxious as it was, and starting any squabbles with my own team was the last thing I needed.
Bloody Ax began to stomp noisily up the stairs, with the Drow in his wake who, in contrast, moved in complete silence. I got the distinct impression that the game developers hadn’t invested much effort in mercenaries, who seemed to lack detail compared to other NPCs. It was as if the devs just hadn’t bothered. I couldn’t blame them, because the death rate in the mercs guild was going through the roof. And if someone wanted to hire a proper servant or companion, it would be in a totally different price range.
Time left: 25 days 23:48:07…
WITH RELATIVE EASE, we managed to clear our way past the two-headed guards defending the staircase. The only problem we had was when one of the bony monsters fought its way onto the steps, intending to attack the Drow.
The dwarf didn’t let me down. He snagged the creature with the hook on the back of his ax and dragged it back toward himself. His armor which absorbed most of the damage allowed him to ignore the monster’s razor-sharp claws. Also, the healers were on constant alert, promptly restoring his depleted health.
As for me, I was having the time of my life. I circled the two-headed-idiots, slashing, stabbing and killing. Now that I had the gauntlets, my flamberge started literally flying through the air while my improved dodge allowed me to avoid the clumsy attacks of those creatures who had been forced to switch their attention from the dwarf in order to deal with me.
We did a good job on them!
After that, it was all plain sailing. We purged two thirds of the floor without any further ado. Hearing Blood Ax’s battle cry, all the undead completely forgot everybody else in order to attack him alone. What a useful skill for a tank.
We were already approaching the next staircase when Goar finally joined us. Together we battled through to the eighth floor, quickly purged that, then proceeded to do the same on the next level. Now that our green-skinned paladin was back with us, we met with little resistance. The game became a game for a change: a safe place to kill monsters, collect the loot and move on. The initial trickle of XP had now become a angry torrent. Still, I ignored any new messages reporting new levels received, unwilling to break our stride.
Advance. Advance. Advance!
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Once his eight hours of game time were up, Goar logged out. Just before he left, I loaded him up with most of the loot and asked him to deliver it to Lloyd, seeing as I couldn’t very easily turn up at his shop now.
“What about my twenty percent?” he reminded me.
“You’ll get it,” I confirmed.
He disappeared into thin air. The mercs didn’t show any reaction to the loss. We continued our way through the dungeons using the same strategy. Which ultimately let us down — or rather, just me.
I dashed into the next room without much thought, only to be immediately surrounded by a pack of bone hounds, fast as hell and capable of sniffing out stealthed-up players. They swiftly immobilized me by hanging on to my arms and legs while the mercs couldn’t fight through to my aid, tied up with a bunch of enemies.
Had Goar been around, I might have sorted this out somehow. But the way things were now, I stood my ground for a while until
I was finally sent back to my respawn point. No skill, even as powerful as Leap, could pluck a victim from the jaws of the undead hounds.
BONES. ROCK. DARKNESS.
Having respawned, I cast a grim glance at the magic skull I was clutching, threw it into my inventory and went back to give the mercs a hand. Still, they were doing admirably without me. The dwarf hadn’t yet had the chance to reach the room, so he simply blocked the tunnel with his bulk and just stood there, brandishing his ax. Some of his blows must have reached their target, judging by the heap of bones piling up in front of his full-length shield.
This time I didn’t rush headlong into battle. I stood behind the dwarf, lashing out with my flamberge from behind his shoulder. Only when the enemy’s ranks began to thin out, did I step forward and give it my all.
Take that! Die, you bastards!
I hated snappy little mutts! Especially dead ones!
Even though the scuffle hadn’t added to my Dog Slayer achievement, I’d made a nice mess of them. I took a pause to collect the loot, then led my little team further on. This time we advanced unhurriedly and with way more caution than before. I had no intention of wasting any more time on respawning.
As a result, my group continued slowly but surely along the corridors at a steady pace. The problem was, by the end of the second day I was sick and tired of the monotony. I was bored to death with all the fighting, and time just seemed to drag on and on.
Step forward, pull some of the undead toward myself, take cover behind the dwarf, give them a good hammering.
Rinse and repeat.
Time and time again.
Would it ever end?
The Bone Dragon Hill was intended for much bigger groups than my own. We just couldn’t keep up with the recommended pace, crawling from one floor to the next at a snail’s pace. Our enemies were growing ever stronger, the fighting more desperate. Still, my strategy seemed to work without a glitch. Even though the XP wasn’t exactly scintillating, I’d made almost 100,000 in the last two days which meant I was still on schedule. Admittedly, both my Rogue and Undead sides were still level 36, but the month had only just started.
I could make it.
I FINALLY TOOK a break to distribute the available stat points. Dammit! Two things were driving me crazy: the inability to study level-11 spells and the available skill points which I still couldn’t invest in either stealth nor dodge. The former required level 15 in both Intellect and Perception while the latter called for some additional training.
That got me thinking. Did I really need top-level spells? On one hand, having them didn’t hurt, especially because a further increase in characteristics could give me access to a whole block of new spells. But on the other hand, there was no telling who I might turn into once my undead side reached level 40. Should I wait, maybe?
In the end, I left it as it was. I’d have to think about it later. I called my group and led them toward the next staircase.
How many of them had we already purged? Ten, twelve? Which floor was this — thirteen? I’d lost count a long time ago.
Here, all of the monsters wore bone armor, their monstrous pincers ripping through the steel of our own gear. Once you killed them, they exploded, showering the tunnels with shards of bone. Also, we’d come across some undead sorcerers again. Several times, their well-coordinated attacks had brought the dwarf’s health deep into the red. The Drow healers just weren’t up to the job; the only thing that still saved us was the protection from death magic cast by the cleric.
When Goar finally logged back in, I heaved a sigh of relief. We needed his backup like never before.
The orc took stock of the progress we’d made and whistled in surprise. “You're as tough as old boots! Did you even bother to log out?”
I just winced. “Let’s move it!”
Then I tensed as I remembered. “Did you bring the loot around to Lloyd’s?”
“I did. He promised to credit the account later,” Goar said, putting his helmet on.
“And what about the scrolls? Did he mention the auctions?”
“He said it’s complicated. The Spawn of Darkness still haven’t managed to take the Tower of Decay, you know.”
I whistled. “After all this time?”
“Half of the clan has already been wiped out. The Lord of the Tower is just unkillable. You can’t imagine the kind of power he has! I saw the videos. They can’t even get near him. His magic rips through their shields before they can even approach!”
Now that Goar was back with us, our progress became noticeably quicker, but even so we had to scurry around the floor for at least another hour before we found the spiral staircase which led up to the next level. It was located at the center of a spacious hall flooded with magic torchlight and lined with kneeling figures in monks’ habits. The song they droned rebounded from the walls which distorted the sound to the point where we couldn’t make out a single word. But the sheer melody and the rhythm of it sent shivers down my spine... and it takes a lot to scare a deadman.
Goar and myself weren’t in a hurry to enter, preferring to study the weird monks from the safety of the corridor.
“Look!” he startled. “A Lich!”
He was right. A tall, lanky figure clad in a black cloak stepped from behind the spiral staircase which snaked around a stone column. The monster was clutching a long bone staff. His open hood revealed a withered skull covered in taut skin.
I shuddered. I knew I didn’t look any better but still.
General Malik
Ancient Lich
I laid my hand on the hilt of my flamberge. Immediately my Perception soared, bringing into focus the magic tattoos covering the dead sorcerer’s skin. His black cloak now glowed with every shade of Darkness — the Darkness which filled his empty eye sockets. His staff had changed, too: not a straight piece of wood anymore but rather the spine of a giant monster ripped straight out of its body.
Still, I knew we could do it. The dead sorcerer wasn’t that strong. My built-in analyzer had already highlighted his figure in yellow, reporting the difficulty as “medium”. The monks weren’t a problem: they were alive which meant I could cast the Cloud of Death on them.
I nodded to myself. “I’ll attack him from behind,” I whispered to Goar. “Wait for my command.”
“Will do.”
I stealthed up and stole into the room, moving along the wall to avoid the monks. Once I got to the opposite side of the room, I started threading my way between the kneeling figures of the cult members who were too busy chanting to notice my presence.
General Malik, however, proved not quite as easy. He swung round toward me, forcing me to duck under the staircase.
Feeling I was just about to be discovered, I ran around the column and gave him a good whack with the flamberge right across his body, from his right collarbone all the way down to just under his left ribs.
Power Strike!
My sword sliced through the Lich’s cloak, then screeched to a halt halfway through his dead flesh, failing to cleave him in two. Even though it was indeed a crit, it had only reduced his health by 25%: his Skin of Stone had blocked most of the damage.
What the hell? I was supposed to get at least a 1000 XP! And this was a pittance!
This moment of disappointed hesitation had very nearly cost me my life as General Malik took a powerful swing and gave me a whack with his bone staff.
Damage taken: 420 [1424/1824]
Death Magic: immunity
I barely managed to shrink my head back. The staff all but grazed my shoulder, but even so the momentum threw me back a few paces.
All the monks sprang to their feet, forcing me to make a circular swing in order to clear some space around me. Blood flew everywhere.
Goar thundered into the hall and began fighting his way toward the lich, slaying the monks in his way with his two-handed sword. He was closely followed by Bloody Ax with the Drow mercenaries trailing in his wake.
Once again Gener
al Malik rushed toward me. I promptly recoiled and began casting the Cloud of Death. I didn’t make it though. The Lich threw his hands in the air above his head and shouted something.
Immediately, the monks went quiet. They were all dead. Their bodies withered before my eyes, leaving bony skeletons behind as they relinquished their energy to their suzerain.
Yes! Exactly! That’s the ability he’d used -
Suzerain
General Malik began growing in size. Evil-looking spikes sprouted out of his shoulders and elbows, ripping his cloak apart. A toothy grin now graced his skull; his hands and face were now covered in bony growths.
