Neck-Deep In It: A LitRPG and GameLit Series.

by Jason Cheek

  There was a number of surprised comments from his friends at the discovery that the Matriarch could protect the raid from the Sulfuric Spring’s noxious gases, when she guided them back to loot their bodies. While there was some grumbling from the group that had been slaughtered twice by the Dread Herd, thankfully, no one lost their heads and broke the peace. Any complaints disappeared once they heard ten members of the Dread Herd would be joining the raid in their fight against the Hobgoblins.

  If anything, the contingent that was joining the raid from the Dread Herd took the most time to explain to everyone. While Orion did his best to get across that the entire Dread Herd would be joining in the defense of BrokenFang Hold when it came under siege, the hardest concept for him to explain to his friends was that the group joining their raid was basically the same as another group of allied NPCs which was hard for some of them to grasp. Although the Dread Herd would take Orion’s lead and listen to strategies, they weren’t mounts or pets but individuals.

  Ashley surprised him by explaining to everyone that it was like having a bunch of Minny’s in the raid, except they were much bigger than the Gnome woman and could rip your face off if they were offended. While that gave Orion a good laugh, he had to admit that it was an accurate description of the situation. The Dreadmares and Dreadstallions, though similar in level to them, were quite scary in their overall strength and capacity to fight which his guildmates well understood.

  Even more surprising than the respect that the Dread Herd had engendered amongst his fellow Devil Dogs, was the deference his guildmates were showing towards Minny and even Pherala since their return. While Orion didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change of perspective, it was a welcome surprise. One that Orion privately decided he would bring up with Ashley once they had a chance to talk privately. Though, if he had to guess, Orion would put even money down that it had something to do with Kyarina and her guildmates in helping his guildmates over that hump with the people of The World.

  Unsurprisingly enough, the Matriarch knew a shortcut through the Sulfuric Springs that would save them nearly a day’s worth of travel. That is, it would as long as they were heading in the direction of the advancing Hobgoblin army and had to go around the Dread Herd territory. Though the Dreadmare wasn’t leading them, she assured Orion that her children would lead them true through the bubbling maze. As they formed up to head out, he knelt in front of the Gnome woman to say goodbye.

  “You’re sure that your fine with me heading out with the rest of the raid, little mouse,” Orion asked one last time.

  “While I wouldn’t mind keeping you around to warm my blankets, Or-re,” Minny said, giving him a meaningful wink, “I’m going to be pretty focused on mining until we head back to BrokenFang Hold.” Her face suddenly turned serious. “With luck, I’ll be able to get a few of those larger mana accumulation crystals for the Flame Spitters we want to build.” She glanced back at the Matriarch and her remaining children before continuing. “Besides, I don’t see me having any problems with wandering monsters with my new guardians around.”

  “There’s that,” Orion agreed, as Minny gave him a last hug, before tenderly kissing him on the lips. There were a few snickers behind him from Austin and Santaz as the two of them parted, but otherwise, no one else gave him a hard time about his sudden relationship with the little Gnome. Standing up straight, he offered the Matriarch a polite bow.

  “Until we meet again at BrokenFang Hold,” Orion said, reinforcing his verbal words with the empathetic images they used to speak. Turning around, he nodded to Ashley and Kyarina as he sent a mental request for Zror, the Dreadstallion that was in-charge of the Dread Herd contingent, to lead the way.

  “Let’s move out,” Ashley said, as the raid filed in behind Zror and Pherala. As they headed deeper into the Sulfuric Springs, a portion of the Dreadstallions and Dreadmares moved out ahead as scouts while others took up positions on the raid’s flanks.

  Though it took some time to get used to the Dread Herd’s frightening appearance, Orion had to admit they seemed to be making good time. Even more impressive, Zror led them unerringly through the twisting dangerous maze of bubbling pools and rocky terrain. More than once, the Dreadstallion came to a stop to let a geyser discharge its skin-searing spray before leading them past or guiding them to hard to see natural stone-like bridges over deep steaming lakes where one misstep would send them back to respawn.

  It wasn’t until the toxic lakes started to turn into small ponds and the mineral deposits had shrunk down to head-height that Orion realized they were nearly at the edge of the Sulfur Pool. Once again, he mentally patted himself on the back that he’d listened to his gut about the Matriarch. With this shortcut alone, they were back on schedule for meeting up with Forrest and Connor who were supposedly harassing the Hobgoblin invasion force. Not that there was much the two of them could really accomplish, Orion thought with a derisive snort, even if these BAMFs were half as good as Kyarina made them out to be.

  Orion’s reverie was suddenly interrupted when the Centauride let out a sharp gasp. As the raid came to an abrupt stop and drew their weapons in alarm, a look of horror crossed Pherala’s face as she turned back to the raid.

  “It’s Forrest and Conner,” Pherala urgently said as her eyes focused on something that only she could see, “they’re dying!”

  Chapter Twelve

  (Forrest Gimp and Conner Mac scouting the Hobgoblin Force on the northeastern Plains of Atoll.)

  “You would’ve thought these dumbshits would’ve reacted more to our attacks by now,” Forrest crowed as he swiveled the BAMF around to target another group of Worg Rider Scavengers trying to escape the storm of iron death raining in amongst them. Most of his shots were targeting the Worgs the Scavengers were riding. In taking their mounts out first, it left the level 40 Hobgoblin Scavengers to fight and run on their own clawed feet, which leveled the playing field for the herd of Carnivorous Plains Elk that were fighting for their lives and gave him more time to place his shots for those that survived.

  “If you jinx us with that shit-talking,” Conner growled from where he was using his own bow to rain death on the enemy, “I am so going to kick your crayons-eating ass.”

  “You’re just jealous your MREs didn’t come with crayons,” Forrest chortled as he shot out his last double-shot into the Worg Riders fifty yards away. Crayon-eater was a slam that the other services loved to call Marines, because they were jealous about the Marine’s high-combat standards and the fact that even their completely non-combat-oriented support specialists were combat-ready. Well, that, and the Corps wasn’t always filled with the brightest bulbs in the box. Not that Forrest was going to openly admit that. Instead, he focused on what mattered between a Marine and an Army Ranger, “Thankfully, at least one of us is a real Expert Shooter.”

  “Oh, no you fucking didn’t,” Conner said in a huff, while privately smiling at their interservice rivalry trash-talking. While Army Rangers were a respected elite force, he couldn’t really argue against Forrest’s accusation that the Army had lower physical fitness and shooting standards. It really was a constant sore point between the two branches. “At least, I’m not the one trying to overcompensate for the lack of a properly sized gun.”

  “You’re such a dick,” Forrest loudly complained as Conner stopped shooting at the enemy and began exaggeratedly dancing while singing, “This is my weapon, this is my gun, this one is for pleasure while this one is for fun.”

  Ignoring his buddy’s antics, Forrest hurriedly tossed the empty cartridge aside and grabbed a new one. Not that he was actually offended. Real Marines who’d put their lives on the line every day in the Corps knew the difference between joking hard and being offended over nothing. Slamming the full cartridge into the slot of his BAMF, Forrest turned suddenly serious as he began hammering the handful of Hobgoblins and Worgs that were left. “It just sucks that we’re probably going to have to slaughter the herd too if we want to recover our bolts.”


  “That’s only because your lower-level doesn’t exactly match your actual threat-level,” Conner said as he got busy once again sending Multi-Shots into the remaining Hobgoblins that were still fighting tooth and nail for their lives, “Not that we can’t use the extra XP.”

  “Truenuff,” Forrest agreed, “I guess I’m just too much of a badass.”

  “Whatever,” Conner laughingly replied, as the feeling that something was wrong continued to grow inside of him.

  Even though they were easily taking down the group of scavengers, their reaction to the overwhelming attack raining down on them wasn’t making any sense. At first, he couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but as the Hobgoblins continued fighting against the herd that they’d been sent to slaughter, it slowly began to dawn on him what wasn’t right. The problem was that the group wasn’t reacting to the surprise attack like they should’ve been. Every other scavenger group they’d attacked up until now had either attacked them head-on or tried to escape to report back to the main force. As that thought cut through Conner’s thoughts like a knife, he heard Ankou, the leader of his Wraith Hounds, let out a warning growl from beside him.

  ‘They come!’ Ankou’s mental warning sent a shiver of dread running down Conner’s spine as he spun around with an arrow nocked in his bow ready to let loose.

  Even as Conner’s eyes urgently searched the frozen plains around them for any sign of an approaching enemy sneaking up on their position, a deep rumbling growl began reverberating through the other Wraith Hounds that were standing around him in a defensive circle. The message was clear, they were surrounded by enemies on every side. Though he felt the pack’s anxiousness growing through their shared soul link by the second, the fucked-up part about it was that he could see nothing approaching the slight rise that they were using for their ambush spot.

  “What in Sam Hell is wrong with you,” Forrest asked, as he looked back at him in annoyance, “and what are those dogs of yours going on about?”

  “They are saying we have incoming from every direction,” Conner said, clearly frustrated at what was going on as Forrest let out a bark of laugher.

  “That’s what you get for going with Wild Dogs as pets instead of a kickass Plains Wolf like me,” Forrest proudly said as Ankou’s blazing red eyes turned to glare at him. The sudden unnatural feeling of death that began emanating from the smaller Wraith Hound made Forrest unconsciously take a step back as Bishop nervously stepped in-between the two of them. “Dude, I don’t care what you say, but there’s something seriously wrong with those pups of yours.”

  “You know what they say Forrest,” Conner distractedly said as the apprehensive feeling grew to the point of being nearly overwhelming, “Don't start shit, won't be no shit.” He was just about to shoot at the empty air in front of him when the Wraith Packs thoughts blazed through his mind as one.

  ‘We will show you!’ moving as one, the Wraith Hounds threw their heads back and let out a howling scream.

  That was the only way Conner could describe the horrific yowl. The unnatural sound started out as a female-like scream you’d expect from an old-time horror movie, before lowering in pitch until it changed into a monstrous growling howl that wouldn’t have been out of place from a werewolf in an Underworld movie. Not only that, as the sound went on and on, the air itself began to vibrate all around them. So much so, that Conner could vaguely start to make out the ghostly outlines of the soundwaves warping the air around them as they moved out across the frozen plains.

  “What the fuck are those little monsters of yours doing?” Forrest demanded, pressing his hands to his ears as Bishop threw his head back and howled to add to the cacophony.

  At first, Conner couldn’t understand what his pups were up to either. That was, until he remembered their last words, “We will show you!” Cocking his head to the side to get his ears out of alignment with the unnatural caterwauling, Conner forced himself to look out across the deserted landscape around them. That’s when he saw it. The shadowy soundwaves were hitting something blurry not twenty-five yards away.

  In that split-second, Conner’s feelings of dread that something was wrong came flooding back to him. Whirling around in a circle, he realized that the partially visible disruption was approaching them from every cardinal direction. Though, whatever it was, it was only centered around certain points that the soundwaves seemed to disrupt the most. In a flash of an epiphany, Conner focused on the center of one of those disturbances that were growing larger with every second and let loose a Multi-Shot.

  The results were instantaneous. Immediately a whole swathe of the pumpkin-headed enemy became visible as whatever spell the Shaman Hobgoblin that he’d hit was disrupted. Conner’s blood ran cold as he realized that behind the brutal-looking demi-human were hundreds, if not thousands, more. In that same moment, he also realized that whatever his Wraith Hounds were doing it was visibly affecting the Hobgoblins’ ability to advance. That, and even more important, they weren’t going to be able to keep it up for much longer.

  ‘You’re the best!’ Conner mentally praised his Wraith Hounds, before bellowing out, “Forrest, don’t just stand there with your thumb up your ass.” Swinging his bow around, he targeted the center of the next disturbance and let loose, “Pack that BAMF up into your inventory now!”

  “What the fuck are you going on about,” Forrest literally growled as he began sending fresh iron bolts into the Shaman’s enraged face, “We need to fight, Army Boy!”

  “There is no fighting this you freaking Jarhead,” Conner shouted back at the top of his lungs as another swathe of demi-humans became visible, “Our primary mission, besides slowing down the Hobgoblins, is making sure that your BAMF doesn’t fall into these bastards clawed hands!”

  “Awe, fuck my life!” Forrest unhappily grunted, realizing that Conner had the right of it. If these pumpkin-heads were able to duplicate his pride and joy, they were going to be majorly fucked for the coming siege. Unfortunately, as soon as that realization hit him, the Wraith Hounds’ undulating howl came to an abrupt end as all hell broke loose.

  With a grunt, Forrest tore the crossbow part of the BAMF off its tripod and threw it to the ground just as whatever magic that had been holding the demi-humans back disappeared in the blink of an eye. Even though the old Marine knew it was too late, he swore that he wasn’t going down without accomplishing his mission. Dipping his shoulder, Forrest rammed the tripod with everything he had in the hopes of quickly loosening the spikes from the ground as the Hobgoblins surrounding them let loose with every ranged attack they hand while the melee fighters charged in with their swords and spears leading the way.

  Forrest’s body was shredded into bloody ribbons within seconds from the Wind-Blades that came slashing across the top of the small hill they were standing on as Conner and his Wraith Hounds dropped flat to the ground. Wrapping his arms around the tripod, the old Marine tore it out of the ground, spikes and all, with a cry of agony as arrows pierced his body from every direction. As the Ranger collapsed to the ground with less than a hundred health, Bishop went berserk as he leaped at the level sixty Elite Hobgoblin Warriors that were charging his master. Though he fought with tooth and claw, the Plains Wolf was quickly hacked to death along with Forrest a split-second later.

  Seeing the horde of Hobgoblins charging at them, there was no question in Conner’s mind that it was all over. Not that they hadn’t known they were pushing their luck with all the kills that they’d been racking up. Still, Forrest and him had expected their end to be more of a last stand than this. Rising up to a knee, Conner slung his bow onto his back, before scrambling on his hands and knees over to the top part of the BAMF.

  Hauling the crossbow up into his arms, Conner fell backward as he saw the wall of Hobgoblins almost on top of him. Using his chest and knees to support the massive weapon’s weight, he let loose at basically point-blank range for such a device, while his Wraith Pack came to his defense. As the impact of the dual iron bolts blas
ted the demi-humans back off their clawed feet, Conner was shocked to see his puppies entering the fray surrounded by a dark cloud of smoky shadow that blurred their outlines.

  In a flash, the Wraith Hounds’ tore into the Hobgoblins with a supernatural fury. They weren’t just using their natural weapons, but a shadowy darkness that extended out from their fangs and claws that moved with a life of its own. Yard-long shadowy claws ripped through the Hobgoblin Warriors’ armor as if the demi-humans were wearing nothing at all, while shadowy fangs shredded pumpkin-orange faces and tore out jugulars. Not only that, as the shadowy strikes connected, the Hobgoblins Warriors would scream in terror and fearfully fall back as a blue flash momentarily flared at the point of contact. Somehow, in that moment, Conner automatically knew that his Wraith Hounds were sucking out a portion of the demi-humans’ lifeforce.

  While that little tidbit of information would’ve probably freaked Forrest the fuck out, it didn’t faze Conner in the least. Maybe that was due to the telepathic link that he shared with the Wraith Pack, or the simple fact that he knew they were linked to his soul. Whatever it was, it gave him a feeling of contentment to see them recover a portion of their health back with each successful attack.

  Unfortunately, the telepathic link they shared was far too new for Conner to fully be able to use. A part of that, he thought, might be due to the Wraith Hound’s individual levels being so low still and the insane rate of leveling the whole pack had experienced within the last twenty-four hours. At times, he was able to communicate basic words or ideas, but so far, that had only seemed to occur in times of great need or intense emotions. Otherwise, the communication they shared was more a mixture of emotions and images or like now, something he just seemed to suddenly know.

  Sadly, even with their unnatural abilities, Conner knew there was no hope for any of them to survive this ambush. A quick glance at his HUD showed him that Bishop and Forrest had already been taken out while his puppies were taking damage faster than they could heal as they were repeatedly pummeled, stabbed, and slashed by the Hobgoblin Warriors rushing in to slaughter them. If not for the fear-inducing touch of the Wraith Packs’ attacks, they would’ve already been overwhelmed.