by Domino Finn
"We need the players," I whispered.
He focused overburdened eyes on me. "What?"
I reached up and worked to untie his wrists. "Look around you. The stands are full of players who want to join this fight, one way or another. If the saints enact wartime procedures, the players can join our cause. Fight off the bishop. Retake the Pantheon."
The defeated saint shook his head.
"You have to do it now. Tannen's weaker than he's been in days. The longer we allow him to re-establish his power—"
"You don't understand, Talon. We can't turn on town combat. That logic is handled by the Haven runtime."
"But you've got to be able to override it? Make a special case?"
He gave a tempered nod. "Usually, we can. But the catechists hold the Pantheon. Without access to the Oculus, our abilities to direct the sim are inhibited."
I stared at him, the grim reality splayed across my face. We couldn't get the Pantheon without the players, but we couldn't get the players without the Pantheon. "So we're stuck?!?"
Before he could answer, Saint Peter was jerked backward by the noose. The rope I was untying slipped from my grasp. I tried to reach out but the nearby priests converged on me. I had to dash backward out of harm's way.
"What's this?" demanded Bishop Tannen. "Conspiring against the crown?" His eyes glazed over in anger. "Pass the sentence!"
"No!"
The hangman's slack yanked tight as Peter was dragged back to the trapdoor. He desperately worked to cast off the loosened bindings. He slipped a wrist free and brought his hands around to throw off the noose. He was a step too late. The floor sprang open and he popped downward. If it wasn't for his hands bracing the rope, his neck would've snapped.
But he wasn't out of the woods. Peter wasn't strong enough to resist the tug of gravity against his throat. The Kablammy employee kicked his legs and widened his eyes as the simulation he'd helped bring to life slowly strangled him.
I snapped my spear at the closest priest and feinted at another. Instead of striking, I slammed the dragonspear into the ground and used my vault skill to carry me up and over the men. My boots were inches from the platform before Tannen blasted me with a cone of golden power. My skin burned and the force sent me tumbling backward into the dirt.
I shook my head, feeling more stunned than I actually was. "Save the saint!" I yelled.
Errol whipped into action, slicing at white tunics left and right. Trafford scrambled for a clear shot and I pushed to my feet.
Tannen wasted no time. Another golden cone engulfed me, this time while I was a standing target. It was a crushing blow.
72 damage
Withering Light!
For the next twenty seconds, you are enfeebled and cannot partake in combat or skill use.
I choked down the pain. It felt like I was suffocating myself, but Peter was the one who was turning blue. He attempted to gasp under his own crushing weight. I couldn't even find the strength to stand.
Trafford took careful aim at the bishop. A newly anointed catechist with an axe ran at me to take off my head. I couldn't fight back, but at least I would see Tannen get blasted.
Trafford spun and fired my way. The knight collapsed at my feet, a bloody mess.
No. Not me. Save the saint.
Through blurry eyes, I watched Peter heave in panic as Errol and Trafford struggled to get to the stage. All around us, the audience burst into rioting. It was madness.
We needed more. It was the players who would turn the tide. We needed the players. We needed them on our side. We needed wartime measures enacted.
Then it clicked.
I planted the dragonspear in the ground and pulled myself up, fueled only by sheer determination. "I hereby invoke my mantle as Protector of Haven," I shouted, "to found my own faction."
A dialog presented itself.
Faction: (Unnamed)
Cause: (Unspecified)
Founder: Talon, Protector of Stronghold
Membership: (Awaiting Approval)
I didn't have time for the details. I locked eyes with Saint Peter. He was struggling mightily and failing. Slowly suffocating whenever he failed to take a breath. He was completely exhausted now, unable to ease the pressure against his neck. At a distance and with a melee between us, my gaze implored him to intercede.
Peter nodded. That was it, and I had his blessing. I felt a whoosh as the faction was founded. Immediately I had access to a special faction menu. In the membership section, I mimicked Tannen and invited the whole city. Windows everywhere sprouted into view.
Faction Invite
Stronghold residents are hereby invited to join the (Unnamed) (Talon, Protector of Stronghold).
Join (Unnamed)?
Kyle: First!
Izzy: *Rolls eyes.* I'm in, too, obviously.
Acceptances flooded in all around me. Bishop Tannen assessed the stands and turned to me in rage.
I smiled and opened the special faction commands.
Players, you see, can't engage in town combat. Lucifer had hacked an exception into my runtime, but everyone else in Stronghold was forced to comply with Haven's original design. There were times, however, that residents were freely allowed to take up arms, and that was in defense of the city. Barring a saintly override, the threat of Lucifer's black dragon and the goblin horde had both enacted wartime measures. Here I'd been trying to go for the wrong thing. I hadn't seen the forest for the trees.
We didn't need wartime measures. What we needed was a war.
I clicked over the faction commands: Declare Alliance. Declare Armistice. I settled on the final option: Declare War.
With the catechists as my target, I was now technically an invading force in Stronghold. And not just me. Me and every other person continuing to enlist in my faction.
City Alert:
The (Unnamed) have invaded Stronghold!
Stronghold is under threat. All residents may engage in combat. While within the walls, all watchman and residents are immune to friendly fire.
Suddenly, a rush of swords scraped from their scabbards everywhere. The catechists whirled in panic.
The city watch was still relegated to the sidelines. They could've chosen to fight off the intruders, of course, but they stayed their ground. That was Gladius and his good men supporting me.
Every single player in the city, however, was suddenly free, whether they were on my side or not. Sure, that equated me with the goblin horde from almost two weeks ago, but at least it meant the battle for the city was on.
1040 Total War
Energy renewed, I immediately focused on Saint Peter. He sagged limply in the noose, one arm falling to his side. Out of nowhere, a silver arrow sliced through the rope and the saint crumpled to the ground with a gasp. Deep in the stands Dune now held his spent longbow. He tipped the bow to his head in salute before nocking another arrow and applying his expert aim elsewhere.
Scraps of fighting broke out in the stands—players choosing sides—but the unrest was dying out. Anybody with sense wanted Tannen out of Stronghold, but the urge to "defend the town" needed to be overcome first. The city watch's inaction really helped me on that score. It was inspiring others to wait and see. Preferable to being enemies, even if I'd rather they fought for my side.
Unfortunately, not every player had common sense.
I dove to the floor as a cleaver swooped over me. I rolled aside and swiped my spear at Lash, but she threw a heavy black shield in the way.
"What are you doing?" I yelled.
"You're ruining everything!" she snarled. She caught me with a backhanded swing and I tumbled again.
42 damage
Damn. Over the last several days, I'd been having a moral crisis and was stuck in lockdown, but Lash had been doing nothing but leveling. She was level 8 but, more importantly, she was a soldier class. The white knight had more power and combat proficiencies than I did.
She swung down and I crossblocked. I followed that up with
a dead-center deadshot, but she'd been waiting on that one. Her shield spun in a full three-sixty as she triggered her own block skill. She'd avoided all damage.
What she didn't account for was the rascally pirate who somersaulted to her back. Errol's rapier glazed her hard and the white knight spun away. We had her flanked now.
"Wow," remarked an awestruck Errol. "Ye be a lot o' woman!"
"You got that right," she snapped, clanging his sword away with her cleaver. It looked like he was holding a car antenna compared to her monstrosity.
"What are you doing?" I repeated, noticing she still wore the black tunic of the crusaders and not the catechist uniform. That meant she hadn't joined Tannen yet.
She swiped at me. "I'd found an army to belong to, and you took that from me." Another slash and parry. "I didn't want them to leave. I couldn't—"
Errol attempted to dance past her guard but she kneed him in the stomach. The pirate fell back with a grunt.
I engaged her to protect him, but I lightened my attack. Lash was laughably like her namesake, lashing out whenever angry.
"You're not mad at me," I told her. "You're mad at yourself. You couldn't make a decision."
"Shut up, Talon."
"But not deciding was the right decision," I assured her. "Don't you see? The crusaders abandoned the city. You couldn't do that. You also didn't join the catechists. Doesn't that tell you everything you need to know about what side you're fighting for?"
She crossed her arms to her chest and exploded in a yellow flash. Behind her, Glinda and Conan also received whatever buff it was. They rushed up to join her.
"Shut. Up." Lash boomed her sword at me. I triggered crossblock, but this time the damage spilled through.
23 damage
"Don't do it, Lash," screamed Glinda. The elderly healer was a non-affiliated priest. She chanted and a will-o-wisp of light flew into me and healed some damage.
Conan ripped his black sash off. It drifted to the floor and he readied his axe. "They left us here instead of fighting," he spat. "How could we ever side with someone like that?" A catechist priest charged Trafford and Conan sank his axe head into his chest. "Yes!" boomed Conan. "This feels right."
Izzy: Heads up, Talon. The catechists abandoned their blockade of Dragonperch. They're gathering whatever reinforcements remain in town and heading your way.
The catechists, discovering players turning on them left and right, charged us. Lash backpedaled. Conan fought back. A rush of rabid knights and priests came at me.
"Batter up," I shouted, tossing Kyle's fire vial into the air above me. As it fell, I spun out of the way and swung the dragonspear, shattering glass into enemy faces. They fell, awash with fire. A cone of flames lined the ground. Errol and Trafford moved closer to the wall. It was one less point of attack for the catechists.
On the platform, silver arrows veered away from the bishop, each time the cross on his helmet flaring like a beacon. Stigg yelled wildly and charged up the steps to meet him, gnarled wooden staff swinging violently. Bishop Tannen's hands flashed as I'd seen Vagram's do, but instead of weapons appearing in them, he equipped thick bronze gauntlets. As Stigg swung, the skinnier bishop didn't shy away. His gauntlets smacked the heavy blows away without effort.
Stigg's party member, Caduceus, ran to the base of the platform to support him. She tweaked her physicker talents to debuff the priest. Whatever she did, it hurt him. Her medical poison began sapping his health.
Priests and knights in shiny white tunics spilled into the entrance. It couldn't have been everyone in town. I figured the catechists were reserving enough soldiers to guard the Pantheon. Still, the added numbers were daunting. But the skirmishes in the stands had mostly settled down. The players in the Circus flooded to the ground in a unified force. The opposing sides crashed against each other like rival waves.
"They're being overwhelmed," I told the others. "I'm heading to the platform. This only matters if we put down Tannen."
I cut through a knight but a priest swarmed in. He folded his hands into a hook and I practically froze in place. I struggled against the spell, but it was a strong one. At least, it was until a giant blazing cleaver cut the priest in half lengthwise.
"Get up there, Protector," growled Lash. "I'll keep them off the gallows." Her arms crossed and all nearby players flashed a pale yellow.
Morale Boost!
All players in affected radius receive +10% damage bonus.
Another flash, this one scarlet, followed.
Advanced Training!
All players in affected radius receive +10% chance of crits.
The white knight hefted her cleaver and turned to the catechists without another word.
I shook my head. "Someone's a bit bipolar today," I muttered under my breath.
On the platform, Stigg was driven to his knees with a body blow. His staff clattered to the ground. A nearby priest on the ground took a bellyful of gunpowder from Trafford and keeled over. I planted my boot on his back and vaulted. This time I lined up my spear for a deadshot and triggered dash to make sure I didn't fail to reach the platform.
Tannen barely saw me in time. He raised his gauntlets but the combo attack broke through. He yelped and stumbled away as I slammed onto the stage. Caduceus threw a heal at Stigg as he chugged a spirit vial. It was a close recovery.
Two priests and a knight already onstage charged me. A silver arrow caught one in the middle of a prayer. I twirled my weapon and swept the knight's legs from under him. The priest and Stigg cast offensive spells at each other, but Caduceus came up behind and slipped a surgical blade into the catechist's neck. At the same time, the dragonspear crashed down and severed the knight's helmet from his body. All three were dead.
The bishop threw his golden cape over his shoulders and paced along the platform with a sneer. The ground below was rife with the tides of combat. Up here, it was just him against me, Caduceus, and Stigg.
"You must know," said Tannen with an evil gleam in his eyes, "that the White King is not so easily defeated."
He raised a bronze hand as the helmet cross exploded in a beautiful aurora. We braced for impact, but the golden light ignored us. Instead, men on the ground stirred. The priests we had just killed convulsed and shook off their deathly slumber. All over the arena, men wearing white and gold stirred from the great beyond and once again took up arms.
"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "That."
A high-pitched chuckle escaped the bishop's lips as the men we'd just killed came at us again.
Stigg's black beard shook as he widened wild eyes. "That just means we do this the hard way," he boomed. A wave of the red robe's hand hit me with a buff.
Berserker's Frenzy!
For the next 30 seconds, your physical skills do not require cooldown.
I smiled. You couple the dragonspear with an upgraded deadshot and you have a killer combination on your hands. I still have to spend the skill points, but if you take away the need for a cooldown—well, let's just say those reanimated priests didn't stand a chance.
The entire platform ripped into action. Stigg recovered his staff and swung toward the priests. I fended Tannen off to prevent him getting a cheap shot in. His gauntlets crashed against my crossblock and I slid back a couple of feet. My arms jarred from the impact, but the damage was minor. I counterpunched away from him, killing a priest with a deadshot before reengaging Tannen.
"I think I can keep them down for good," said Caduceus. She pulled a small vial from her medical bag and stabbed it into a catechist's chest. The injector reminded me of one of Kyle's crossbow bolts. The physicker repeated the shots into the other two as they fell.
Meanwhile, Stigg turned on the bishop. The gnarled staff caught Tannen on the back of the helmet, twisting it around. Tannen spun a fist and banged the staff to the floor. Before he could hit the berserker, I stabbed the back of the bishop's leg. He whirled on me but I dashed away. Then I lined up another deadshot and hit him again. Tannen swung but I was fast.
Caduceus ran by and slashed his back.
Enraged, the bishop screamed. Light danced up his body like a candle flame as he powered himself up. I attempted another strike but Tannen beat me this time. He batted the spear away, almost jerking it from my hands. Stigg moved in, pounding the catechist's chest several times, knocking him toward the platform edge. Off balance. With a last desperate maneuver, Stigg leaned in, grabbed the golden cross, and ripped Tannen's helmet from his head.
It wasn't without cost, though. The berserker's hand immediately erupted into red fire. He screamed and flung the helmet clear of the platform. Tannen was livid now. He raised both gauntlets together and a rush of power fired out and consumed the berserker.
Caduceus moved in to save him but it was too late. The light cleared and Stigg was a blackened heap.
Stigg is dead!
"Piece of shit!" snapped Caduceus.
Tannen raised his gauntlets to her and her eyes widened. Suddenly, Trafford's shot pegged the bishop in the back. Instead of falling backward off the platform edge, he pitched forward awkwardly. Without the magical protection of the helmet, a silver arrow caught him in the neck. He choked and clutched his throat. Caduceus wasted no time in burying her scalpel into one of Tannen's golden eyes.
I likewise lined up the dragonspear and activated dash and deadshot at the same time. The legendary weapon punched through the bishop's breastplate and knocked him backward. This time he did fly off the stage. Tannen's dead body crashed into the dirt amid the priests fighting to protect him.
The localized crowd around us stopped fighting. I panted on the edge of the platform, staring at the bishop's body, waiting for the loot to drop. Behind me, Caduceus went to assist Stigg, but he was long gone. She then made sure to inject Tannen's body with her poison. Errol weaved through the combat in the distance to recover the bishop's cross helmet. He heaved it over his head triumphantly before stuffing it safely in his inventory. With the artifact in our possession, victory was guaranteed.
