Blackout Series (Books 1-2)

by Adam Drake

  Weapon Type(s): Club (Stalagmite)

  Abilities: Crush, Bear Hug, Bash (weapon based), Charge, Night Vision.

  Special: 5% increase to Attack Rating when fighting on Clan grounds. 15% increase to Attack Rating when in the presence of other clan members.

  I did not like all those unknowns, but having never tangled with an Elite Orc before, it was expected.

  “Yes, I wish to die first,” I said to him. “Might you be able to assist me with this problem?”

  The orc's features scrunched up in confusion making him even more ugly. “Stupid wench wants death then I will help her.” He ran at me with a speed I didn't expect. The distance between us shrunk to a few feet in almost an instant.

  Back-pedaling like a mad-woman, I fired a volley of arrows at him.

  Each one found its mark, but had little to no effect. Rather, they made the orc more angry. Then he was on me, raising the stalagmite over his head and brought it crashing down.

  I went into Shadow mode and slipped around him the moment his club smashed against the ground.

  Switching to my sword, I struck out at him, causing me to be visible. This did some damage.

  The orc roared and swung about with his club. I ducked into a roll and sprang up. After another swing from his club I sprinted away.

  Angry that he hadn't mashed me to a pulp, yet, the orc pursued. Keeping my distance as best I could I kited him with the occasion arrow. I'd whittle his hit points away with this technique. But where would the fun in that be?

  I was biding my time.

  After a few minutes of me dodging club swings and then firing arrows into his thick skin, the orc slowed down. Panting, he hunched over but kept an eye on me.

  “Little wench not fight right,” he said between ragged breaths. “Should fight like warrior and die like warrior.”

  I gave a glance in Thorm's direction. The Holy Knight stood under the tree looking bored, the blade of his broadsword resting casually on one shoulder. It made for an unassuming image, but I knew he was ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

  I stopped moving and switched to my sword. With a come-hither hand wave I said, “Come at me, bro!”

  This triggered an even angrier reaction from the orc. Maybe the come-hither hand wave was obscene to orcs? Regardless, the elite stood upright as if revitalized with new energy.

  Here it comes, I thought while altering my stance.

  The orc roared and, holding his stalagmite club over his head with both hands, used his charge ability. He flew at me with lightning speed.

  There was little time for me to register that this might not be a good idea. But just as the orc closed in for the kill I did the unexpected.

  I ran straight at him.

  This sudden change barely altered the orc's speed who was caught in full charge until it was finished. The millisecond we were going to collide I used my Cloak of Shadows.

  Use Phase Ability.

  I became corporeal, like a ghost.

  The result was me running through the charging orc, who in turn had tried to time his swing for his approaching target. He stumbled as his club hit the ground with a tremendous cracking noise.

  The moment I emerged out the back of the orc (that doesn't sound good, does it?) I spun about and unphased, becoming whole again. My sword pierced bare flesh, sliced against his spinal column, and skewered his heart.

  The orc collapsed to his knees, dropping the stalagmite.

  I placed my foot against his back and shoved. My sword unsheathed from the orc's body and he fell flat on his face, dead.

  Thorm offered a slow, teasing golf clap. “Nicely done,” he said as he walked over to admire the corpse. “Where did you pick up that trick?”

  I shrugged. “Got the idea thanks to a yellow unicorn.”

  Thorm searched the corpse and removed a large sack of coins. “Unicorn? Yellow? You are full of surprises, Vivian.” He grinned and took a necklace of finger-bones as well.

  “What we get?” I asked, nodding at the coin sack.

  “10,000 gold coins,” he said. He tried to give me half, but I refused.

  “This was your quest and lost your party because of it. Keep it all.”

  “Nonsense,” said the knight. “I would most certainly have been smashed to a pulp with that stalagmite of his if you hadn't come along. I insist.”

  I shrugged. Who was I to refuse money?

  “Speaking of your timely arrival,” said Thorm. “To what do I owe this visit? You seemed a little flustered when you chatted me.”

  With a heavy sigh, I said, “I got Mudhoof killed.”

  Thorm's eyes widened. “Again? This is starting to be quite the habit with him. Maybe you two need some away time from each other.” He chuckled.

  “He says it's all part of the game but I can't help feeling guilty.”

  A loud cry came from deep within the cave, followed by another.

  Thorm gave the entrance a worried glance. “His clansmen are wondering where he got off to. Best we leave while we can.” He gave me a questioning look. “Unless you are into farming orcs for potential loot and materials?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Had me fill of orcs for a while.” With that I summoned Smoke.

  The dark horse appeared before me, nickering and shaking his beautiful black mane.

  As I mounted, Thorm summoned his own mount. A large snow-leopard blinked into existence. It had thick white fur with a smattering of large black spots. Huge fangs protruded from its mouth as it roared a greeting to Thorm.

  “Wow,” I said as Thorm jumped up onto the big cat. “You got a new mount? What's her name?”

  “Snowflake,” he said with a cheeky grin.

  I laughed. “Figures.”

  More cries came from the cave, this time much closer.

  “Come on,” said Thorm. “Let me check in with the quest giver. He's at a nearby keep. On the way you can tell me what you've been up to and how I can help.”

  A group of a half-dozen orcs trundled out of the cave entrance and looked around. When they spotted us they roared with excitement. Then they noticed the body of their slain leader and the roars turned to cries of rage. They moved in our direction.

  “Let's blow this popsicle stand!” I said.

  Thorm and I kicked our mounts into a full gallop and soon the cries of the enraged orcs faded into the forest behind us.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The keep was located next to a river a few leagues away from the orc cave. The banner of a local lord flew from the battlement walls which surrounded it. A small cohort of human soldiers milled around looking nervous.

  In the clearing around the keep were scattered bodies, both human and orc. There had been a battle here recently.

  As Thorm and I rode up to the front gate, the portcullis rose and a trio of warriors emerged to intercept us.

  “Halt!” said the leader. “State your business.”

  Thorm eyed the warrior with mild annoyance. “You know who I am since your commander sent me out on a quest from here just this morning.”

  The leader blustered. “That may be so, but unless you have proof that this quest has been completed I cannot grant you access inside.” Thorm glanced at me and I stifled a laugh. Sometimes the game's NPCs could be very strict with procedures.

  The Holy Knight produced the necklace of finger-bones and shook it. The bones rattled. “Good enough?”

  The warrior harrumphed and nodded. “You may pass, hero.” He turned to the guards who blocked the open gate. “Let them through!”

  We rode into a small inner courtyard with several makeshift buildings shoved up against the walls. Being so cramped it was a wonder anyone could even move about. I also noted the defense force was meager.

  “Not much to this place,” I said, dismounting. “Have they ever been overrun?”

  Thorm dismounted and patted Snowflake's nose. “The orcs had control of this keep a month ago.”

  “Oh, yeah? What happened?�
�

  “I took up the human quest chain and helped push the orcs back to their caves. Was a heck of a good fight, too. Now that a commander has been assigned here I'm hoping the supply route from the Farewell Fall's capital will resume again.”

  “Nice work,” I said, impressed. “You must be get good passive experience points from this.”

  Thorm shrugged as we walked up the steps and through the keep's main entrance. “Every little bit helps. This character level has taken forever. Almost done, though.”

  Inside the keep a guard directed us to the main chamber. Within sat a troubled looking commander mulling over a map spread out on a large table. Upon seeing us enter he blinked in surprise.

  “Didn't expect to see you back,” the commander said.

  “It was more difficult a task then we expected, sir,” said Thorm. He enjoyed a little roleplaying when questing. Few players do anymore which was a shame. Myself included.

  The commander nodded. “Very well. Let us see your proof before I can give you the reward.” Thorm pulled out the finger-bone necklace and handed to him.

  Grinning with satisfaction the commander said, “Excellent! That vile orcish pig is dead! Now we can start making plans for our final assault on their tunnel hideaway.” He looked to Thorm hopefully. “Interested in one final battle which will rid these lands of the orcish scum?”

  Thorm shook his head. “My apologies, commander, but I am afraid another matter has come up.” He gave me a wink.

  Gravely disappointed the commander said, “I understand. We will still move ahead without you although your absence will be felt. Mayhap another adventurer will take up our cause.” The last was said with a pointed look at me.

  Amused, I quickly said, “Sorry, sir. But I am the reason he must leave in the first place.” Some quest givers were quite persistent.

  “I understand,” the commander said. Then he turned to Thorm. “Now for your reward as promised.” He reached into a small chest which sat on the floor next to him and pulled out a large sky-blue feather. It gave off a metallic glint in the light. “A Pegasus Feather.”

  Thorm took it and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

  I blinked in amazement. “You're on a special mount quest?”

  Thorm nodded and stashed the beautiful feather into his inventory. “Yup. This only makes the second feather, with maybe a dozen more to go. Then there's the magical saddle quest and another to free a featherless horse from an air castle, or something. I haven't looked to far ahead on the requirements.”

  “And you'd have a Pegasus for a mount? I flying horse? Dang,” I said impressed. “Maybe I should start that one, too.”

  Thorm chuckled. “If you do, be ready to kill a lot of orcs.”

  The commander said, “Your quest is complete. Good journeys to you, sir.”

  “Thank you,” said Thorm.

  A system message appeared.

  Thorm Brightsword has attained a new level. Congratulations!

  “Ding,” said Thorm casually.

  “Gratz!” I said.

  “Gimme a minute to distribute my points.”

  We walked out of the chamber leaving the commander to worry over his map.

  Outside, Thorm paused to scrutinize his Holy Knight skill tree.

  Now I was safely away from the rabble of would-be bounty hunters, I felt it safe to remove the Mute All Players option in my settings.

  The moment I did, a chat request appeared in my lower vision. Bishop The Red, again. With a scoff I canceled his requested.

  “Hmm,” said Thorm pensively.

  “What's up?”

  “Can't decide on how to spend my points.”

  I laughed. “You've been at this level for how long, and you've never taken any time to consider what you'd do with the points once you got them? It's my main obsession.” Truth be told, owning the Cloak of Shadows had put a kink in my leveling plans. The abilities it granted me negated some Shadow skill branches, like Phase. Now I needed to consider other skill branches.

  Of course, if someone killed me and took the Cloak then my character would be pretty gimped as a result. More than gimped, actually.

  I tried not to get irritated at the prospect.

  “Okay,” Thorm finally said. “Done.”

  “Where'd ya put 'em?”

  “Initiated a Hit Point Regeneration ability, which I didn't have before. After that near death encounter with the orcs I think having it passively active might save my butt in the future.”

  “Good call,” I said, a little jealous. No hit point regeneration for Shadows, unfortunately. We're Health Boost addicts.

  “So, Wally's Womp,” Thorm said. I'd filled him in on my entire situation. It was good to have an ally on board.

  I took out the map the Locators Guild cartographer had given me and unfurled it.

  It had changed from when I first looked it over. Before, I was in Ingot's Perch and the route of gates started out from there. But now I was in Farewell Falls. The map had adjusted itself to take that in account presenting a new route.

  “Lots of gates,” Thorm said. “I think I spend half my time in this game just traveling to the next one.”

  “Yeah, but I'm grateful that this game even has fast travel. There are hardcore servers without it. Takes weeks, even months to get anywhere. And do not get me started on how those players get to other planets.”

  “Okay,” he said, looking at the map. “The first gate is just north of here.”

  We both mounted and rode out of the keep's entrance. The soldiers there cheered. By completing the commander's quest Thorm had raised his reputation with this group fairly high.

  “I'm a rock star!” Thorm said.

  Past dead bodies of orcs and humans, we rode away from the keep and its carnage and into the forest. Within a few minutes we found a narrow dirt road and followed it north.

  “Any word from Mudhoof?” Thorm asked as we thundered along. His snow-leopard ran with a strange loping motion.

  “None,” I said. “I'll try him again.”

  I sent the chat request and waited, bidding my time by watching the forest pass by. It soon became apparent Mudhoof was still unavailable or just didn't want to answer. I canceled the request.

  Part of me felt Mudhoof was angry, but I tried not to let it bother me. Or maybe I was just making a big deal out of nothing.

  The terrain changed, and the trees thinned out to the point we were running across a grassy plain. Far in the distance I could see the circular outline of a travel gate.

  Thorm turned to say something when he looked past me. “Look over there.”

  I did.

  Close by, a river meandered its way through the plains. At its edge were a group of adventurers who looked to have recently slain some orcs. Orc bodies were everywhere, and the victors were busy looting them. But what gave Thorm concern were a few of these players were looking in our direction with intense interest.

  A group that size wouldn't be threatened by a pair of players riding by.

  Then it hit me. Maybe we were being assessed. If they happened to be bounty hunters, things would get interesting fast.

  As we moved on past, the players who watched us turned to speak to the others. Soon all of them had stopped looting and stared. Even over this great a distance they could pull up our information.

  And my character's information prominently displayed its bounty status.

  “Not good,” I said, and glanced at the distant gate. Still far.

  “Yup,” Thorm said. “And here they come!” The other group had all summoned mounts and began to ride straight at us.

  “Maybe they just want to use the travel gate, too,” I said, but couldn't convince myself. About twenty players were now coming after us at full speed.

  “You certainly have a large fan base, Miss Valesh,” Thorm said.

  “Everyone wants an autograph,” I said with a forced laugh. This was annoying. All because of Ogden Trite.

  It became appare
nt we'd reach the gate well before the group would catch up with us. They shouted. Some even tried firing arrows at us but came up short.

  We focused on pushing our mounts to their maximum speed. The travel gate sat on a patch of barren earth surrounded by tall grass.

  “Once we're through, we'll make a b-line straight to the next gate. Eventually they'll get bored or we'll lose them,” Thorm said.