It worked out perfectly well - three minutes later, we were out of there. Behind us, the sounds of battle were heard. Lights of mass teleports flashed on both sides. New warriors were arriving.
By the way, the First Priests were a clan I had never seen before. They were on the side of the Templars. Just gotta get outta here…
“Where is the Kolyvan?” I asked, running.
“I will call him now,” Orbit said, pulling a tusk from his pocket.
A long and drawn out call was heard.
Damn it… I did not bother to buy a whistle for the wolf, though there were a bunch of them on the counter when I was getting supplies.
You cannot foresee everything.
From a distance, there came a trumpeting answer, and we charged in that direction.
One pet was accounted for.
And where was the legendary wolf with the girl on his back? Hm? I am such a terrible ad…
“She’s s-smart,” said Orbit, as if reading my thoughts. “And restless. She won’t j-just wait.”
“She’ll get into something,” I understood. “I need to find her quickly.”
Kolyvan behaved like a tank - demolished the birch grove and headed towards us, tearing up everything in the way. I noticed him at once - the awkward pace, the club footed run. But he moved more slowly than before.
“Do the divine gifts run out?”
“Yes. At ev-very death. Only the l-legendary are et-ternal…”
“Legendary status cannot be washed away by death,” I said, feeling pride in my wolf.
Right. The gods, theoretically, can be persuaded to add strength to pets. But when they die, the abilities are gone. Now it was clear why the Baroness wanted a legendary creature too.
When the mammoth was next to us, I experienced relief - I was used to travelling on the back of animals, or in wagons. I had completely lost the habit of walking.
“Ro-o-o-o-oska!” I screamed, climbing onto the back of the Kolyvan. “He-e-ey!”
“Bu-u-usia…” Orbit informed me, looking towards where we came from.
“We did not call you!” I said, not too kindly, when the Baroness landed on the back of the beast.
“I know,” she snorted, throwing a crumpled metal object aside. I did not immediately recognize it as a flattened knight’s helmet. Interesting, and was there a head in it when it was squeezed?
“Did you find Roska? By the way, the name… you did not think too hard, did you?”
“A normal name,” I did not agree. “And no, obviously. What do you need? Do not start talking rebirth nonsense again. If you were thrown out of a carousel as a child, it is not worth giving grief to others.”
“You are a rare person,” said the Baroness, looking at me with a squint, unbuttoning the collar of her leather jacket.
Someone squeaked. From behind of her collar a very curious nose appeared, and then the muzzle of a very small tri-colored beast. A weasel. Twenty third level. A carnivore, as is apparent - both the hostess and the animal look perfectly aligned. And now I noticed gray and white ribbons woven into the Baroness’ black hair, making an intricate pattern. Now they were both tri-colored - it emphasized their unity. And there was a clan symbol next to the name, as well as a little crown.
The beast belonged to the head of the Sleepless.
And it was better not to touch it - otherwise, it would not end well.
And there was a terrible name in the description.
Busia…
“Busia,” I breathed out.
“Busia,” grunted Orbit.
The next minute was occupied by the simultaneous laughter of two men, lying on the back of the giant mammoth as he ran forward at full speed.
“What are you laughing at assholes?! What?”
“Bu-u-u…”
We did not have time to keep on laughing. The head of the Sleepless released the collar of Orbit - I did not even see her approach and grab him - and looked abruptly back towards the castle of the Golden Templars.
“The dragon has discovered the wolf! And the child on his back!”
“Where?”
“That is the trouble! They are behind us, and quickly approaching the castle!”
“Huh?!” I yelled, enraged.
While I was expressing my father’s wrath - How?! She went to the disco, although I forbade it?! - The others acted. The Kolyvan acted as a torpedo boat. With a steep turn, breaking several frail trees and a large boulder, the Kolyvan turned back.
Clutching at him fur, I looked at the castle fiercely, hoping to get a glimpse of the black and white wolf’s backside. I was also waiting for my pet to be within the vicinity for a “simple shout” to summon him back to me.
“Stomp,” ordered the Baroness, and her joyfully grinning brother turned the Kolyvan one degree to the side. The player from the other side, who had appeared from a teleport, did not even have time to turn his head. His eyes widened, and then I heard a crunch, a clang, the groan of crumpled armor.
One hundred seventieth level. Elf. Archer. A big bag. A beautiful bow. A bone helmet… the skull of a gorilla, it seems. And all this, including the owner, squashed. We heard the cracking of his destroyed equipment. Behind us, only a mournful cloud of silvery fog. A moment before Kolyvan struck the player, I managed to see the lightning fast movements of the Baroness, throwing something at the player.
Now that is class… the Baroness’ strike certainly ensured a crit. The weapon was nothing out of the ordinary - something like mithril throwing knives. But the rest of the life was taken by the weight of the Kolyvan.
Roughly speaking, it all took about four seconds at best.
Four seconds… and a powerful player was sent to rebirth. An evil fate threw him under the bus. Fatal providence… these words rattled in my head, from reading too many adventure novels in a tundra.
In any case, the Baroness had reacted a lightning speed - removing another pawn off of the enemy’s board. Or maybe, the figure was more important. An experienced shooter from a large distance. He could have done a lot of damage.
Four hundred meters to go… Kolyvan turned, and we went to the left, avoiding the slaughter. Lightning flashed, and everyone was covered by a crippling blow of mass magic.
Three hundred… with a piercing scream, a huge black dragon flies at us. In a moment, he kind of embraces himself with his wings, and hurls himself at the wall of enemy soldiers. I felt I was in a nightmarish bowling hall. The dragon was four times bigger than Kolyvan, ten times heavier. Dragons are one of most formidable creatures in Valdira.
Two hundred meters… the dragon begins to twirl like a top, a pole with a Sleepless flag around its neck only emphasizing the similarity. Even before the dragon falls, ten players jump off it, dealing crushing blows on the enemy. At the same time, they are smashed by the dragon, swept under his spiked mace like tail. There is not even any time for the enemy to blink. This can no longer be called chance - it is careful strategy. A combat dance. Or a scheme… each can call it his own way. This was not a skill. It was training, just like in the real world.
And here is the terrible result. A terrible huge dragon on the battlefield and several warriors dancing around him. A continuous avalanche of blows… a joint onslaught. There is no time to discern the enemy… they are constantly being knocked down and driven to the ground. The warriors finish the blows. It is the result of touch clan management. Their time is passed on battle yards, behind high fortress walls, where they train from morning to night.
Ten meters… five… we rushed past the battle as a meteor flies into a meteor field. According to all the laws of nature and magic, arrows, magic charges, and other things ricocheted from our scarlet pulsating shield which had been thrown to Orbit. He, looking at it in his hands, turned and threw it up… like “screw this, who needs this garbage.” I managed to catch it just in time. Breathing hard, I viciously stared at the Baroness.
“Good throwing!”
She shrugged - family blood, I presum
ed, was the explanation. “To the left! That hill!”
“I see it!” I said, watching as the wolf leapt from behind a small hillock overgrown with bushes. We rushed after him - the herbivorous mammoth after the predatory wolf.
“If we catch up - get her with the trunk!” I roared angrily, and immediately clung onto the fur of the mammoth harder, since Kolyvan was running through a noxious blue mist creeping steadily over the ground. It did not hurt any of us - except for the mammoth. The beast shook, his sides heaving, and then the beast kept going. The poison was not strong enough.
A message flashed before my eyes - Tyrant had entered the zone where calling him would be effective.
“Tyran-n-n-nt!” The echo of my roar echoed around the perimeter, making one of the bowmen miss. “Sto-o-op!”
Yes!
The beast braked, jerking his ass upwards and braking into the ground with his front paws. And my daughter… flew off the back of Tyrant and was catapulted forward. She tumbled over the grass.
“We need to shoot such fathers,” the Baroness note, watching the future goddess tumbling through the mud.
“Eh-h-h,” I gasped, watching her involuntary acrobatics.
Maybe she will succeed in the circus… will be the patron saint of all the circuses in Valdira. People will kill the clowns in her name, spread them over the sacrificial circus arena exactly at midnight, when the wolves began to howl… lord, what am I thinking? What circus goddess?!
“Ro-o-o-oska!”
The mammoth braked a little better than Tyrant, but not by much. As a result, I repeated the maneuver of my daughter, plowing the earth with my muzzle. The apple does not fall far from the tree… a meter or two away.
“Yes, dad? Oh…” Roska moaned, holding her head. “Damn it! Why the hell did Tyrant stop as though he were seized by the yaks?”
“O-o-oh,” I said, flopping onto my ass.
An unknown man with a sword galloped past us on a horse, with a threesome of evil looking players. Behind them ran a bard with a huge banjo, playing the famous ancient country song Cotton Eye Joe.
“Ni-i-i-ice!” The bald elf said approvingly.
“Are you okay?”
“I am now!” The child said… and disappeared, dashing for the all too familiar mound. Damn! This is where it all started! It was under this very hill, with that weeping bastard, and his eye… and here we are again!
Noted - the future goddess is very independent. Without hesitation, she made a circle back and rushed to the rescue… wait! Why does this sound familiar to me?
Then everything made sense according to the classical scheme… evil father - kind daughter.
In a few inelegant jumps, I made it to the devil’s hill, grabbed my daughter by the arm and, not paying any attention to her screams of protest, dragged her to the mammoth stomping towards me. The next few moments were occupied by a series of screams, movements, jumps, and grasping for anything that came to hand. But after this, we were all back atop the powerful mammoth.
“Bingo!” Shouted Whisper happily, who had come from god knows where. He had not only managed to reach us unnoticed but also to reclaim his seat on the mammoth. He looked, however, completely terrifying. But there was no time to ask.
Where the hands of Giant were positioned, a violent flashing began, appearing and disappearing without rhythm. As if there was some kind of electrical shortage, a broken wire. It was to that place that we hurried, trampling over hills, bushes, trees, animals, players, and other minor obstacles.
“She did it!” Screamed Whisper, raising his arms to the sky. “Did it! Yes!”
It was not just us coming to the portal. A huge cargo caravan came forward, holding a magical dome above it. A few stray shells barely missed us. Tyrant jumped from a piece of metal that was falling from the sky. Time was slowing down.
Enough! It is time to move!
I do not think the Dead Giant read my thoughts, but the portal was stabilized moments after I thought about it. And we immediately moved towards it. I was still clinging to my daughter - not for protection’s sake, but so that she would not disappear again - I saw a huge earth fountain rushing to heaven. The soil flew out in a continuous stream, along with rocks and other animals… I was especially impressed at a purple hedgehog, helplessly clawing at the ground. The Kolyvan went first, his trunk plunged into another reality, and then we were dragged forward. And from behind us flew a very large rock - not just a block, but something with smoothed ends and a characteristic shape. It seemed like a very large fragment of a stone shoulder. Together with it flew about two hundred colorful gizmos, most of which looked like painted bricks.
“Fuck!” Said Whisper furiously, grabbing at his hair. “The bricks are colored! The emerald city! The golden city!”
“Bastard,” I answered angrily, staring in horror as panic messages from the gaming system began to flood my screen. There were so many that it looked like I was being spammed. “Bastard! Sick bastard! You infected me with a plague! Damn it all!”
“I see only a cubical rain-b-b-ow,” said the bald elf with an enthusiastic smile, looking in both directions. “Coo-ool…”
“Emerald city!” Said Whisper, shaking me. “Did you see the bricks?! The colored ones?! See them? Did you?! Did…”
And then we were finally send off to that disastrous place…
We were spat out at the destination. It turned out that we were five kilometers south of a small town, apparently Krom, which is in turn very close to the southern edge of the dark forest called Dark Region. In the northeast lies the Great City of Roghalrome, next to the citadel of the Sleepless Clan. We are separated from them by many kilometers of forests and mountain ranges in the valley of Hot Mists, or, as the players call it, Devil’s Bathhouse. I have never been here, but the rumors were enough to stave me off. The horror here was wild!
And in the very center of the valley lay the great and ancient… but we were not going there anyway.
To the south and east there was a place I wanted to look. Too bad, I did not explore it earlier. There was the famous Rock where Grim had dumped parts of the Silver Legend. An important place for me.
But now… now I just enjoy… enjoy…
Silence…
Silence…
Affectionate cool waters rolled over my legs, roll over the light green chest, spray onto the orange face speckled with black. I have to squint my amber eyes with vertically placed pupils, cover my face with my hand.
Nearby is splashing around a merry bald seal, accepting enthusiastically that his legs refused to work, and his speech apparatus is gone.
Over to the side, under a huge oak tree, there is a real goblin. Or rather, a forest man, though there is no humanity there. Whisper is turned into an ugly monster, completely covered with shaggy hair, long growing fangs. Behind my back, a rapidly balding wolf is scratching furiously. There is almost nothing left from the black and white fur. The rest of the body is bald, like a sick poodle’s The merry mammoth Kolyvan is even worse off. Externally, he has not changed, except for complete deafness. But he has learned to laugh at the most unexpected moments. When the beast giggled for the first time, I was standing with my back to him and nearly jumped up a meter and a half.
Near the mammoth, a cheerful and rosy cheeked teenage girl bursts out laughing, slapping herself on the knees and pointing at us.
Apart from Roska, we are all sick through and through.
And dying.
Between us, we have one torch of healing which was thrown at us through the teleport. The medicine man hammered it into the ground and was immediately swept away. Soon, the doctors would come to us - but now, they were busy with other fighters who had suffered the extremely strange disease imposed on us by the Templars.
The Baroness was no longer with us. The great lady-boss of the Sleepless Clan - ha! She had suffered from a disease that made her brightly blueberry colored. After that, the girl hastily departed, but not after almost drowning the laughing seal in th
e lake. Presumably, Blueberry Busia went to the VIP hospital ward of the Sleepless. I have heard of them, though I myself have never managed to end up in one.
And we, the mortals, not counting the goddess, remained at the small lake circled by giant oaks. We have to wait for our recovery.
“Not fuh-nhy,” grumbled the offended monster Whisper, mercilessly biting his lips and chomping at his own lips with his fangs. He clearly did not feel the pain - it is a game after all - but his health was diminished.
“Very! Very funny!” My daughter did not agree, and continued to laugh gaily.
The bald seal joyfully chuckled, supporting the future goddess.
I just snorted and relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the doctor. No, not our doc - for this, you need a real professor. We were struck by a variety of diseases, spreading from one “zero patient” - Whisper - to the rest of us, excluding Roska. Diseases, including those used to attack, were not uncommon. But all of these at one?! Did the Templars have such gifts? Whisper was “awarded” the bouquet - but we never managed to understand how. A weapon? Liquid? Magic?
But this was unusual. To infect so many in so strong of a time. And they were very strong.
My orange face was a disease found in the catacombs of Algora. It was through the plumbing that it emerged. The disease made the face orange, and adds black spots in the second stage. In the third, it starts sucking away life points. The time between the stages is 24 hours. For me, all three have taken place within ten minutes. And right now, I treated and treated myself with my own magic. I worked on myself no less than a hundred times, and cured Orbit no less than a dozen. The disease progressed unusually fast - ten minutes instead of three days. And again, I wanted to ask - how?!
Whisper’s fangs - the goal was not that he would bite his lips, but that it would make speech inarticulate. This would automatically stop any mage. After all, according to legend, we say our spells out loud. It is just later on that the creators of the game decided that if a player has to constantly yell something like “air strike,” “air strike,” “air strike,” and so on, he would quickly give up and just get a regular club and get on with it.
The Way of the Clan 7 Page 8
