by Kong, Aleron
Richter simply said, “I finish what I start.” He cast Haste upon himself and readied another arrow.
Terrod raised his mace and pulled open the door. He slammed it shut again immediately as two thuds were heard and the door quivered. A third thud was punctuated by a crossbow bolt piercing the door. He smiled wildly, “Two on the left and one on the right,” and then he opened the door and dove through Jeremy right behind him. Richter stepped up to the door and scanned for enemies. Terrod was fighting one and Jeremy was on the left fighting the other two. There was no way for him to have a clear shot, let alone imbue his arrow. The blast could easily damage his two fighters. Worse he could hear feet on the stairs at the back of the room, the steps quickly growing louder. Left with no other choice he cast Grease.
What happened next would have been funny if it weren’t a life or death situation. All five combatants started wind milling their arms as they struggled to keep balance. Terrod went down first and Richter shot his opponent in the shoulder dropping her to the ground. Jeremy managed to collapse into a chair, his two opponents falling on the floor. Richter felt bad for a moment ending the lives of men that could not defend themselves, but then another thief came down the stairs. The thirty second duration of the spell hadn’t ended yet so he fell flat on his face upon entering the small room. Richter placed an arrow in the chest of both of Jeremy’s opponents in quick succession. He then imbued an arrow and shot it at the thief who had come down the stairs. The man had managed to climb to all fours and took the arrow in the head. The force of the blow sheared away most of his face, splattering blood and flesh over the floor. Nocking another arrow, he saw Terrod drive a knife into his enemy’s throat. One of the other thieves had not moved, Richter’s chest shot coupled with the thief’s prone position allowing for a critical strike and instant death. The last thief had turned over a table and was hiding behind it. Breathing a deep sigh, Richter knocked another arrow and charged it for several seconds before firing at the table. It struck the table top and exploded it inwards. The thief was thrown against the wall stunned. Jeremy carefully walked forward and then stabbed him in the heart.
Amazingly, all three of them had made it through the fight unscathed. Other than some bumps and bruises that is. Not wasting their initiative they moved to the stairs. Terrod looked at Richter, “Shoot up the stairs with your power arrow. Clear’em out.”
Richter peeked up the stairs which were mercifully clear. He nocked an arrow and held the charge until the black flashes ran over the gold aura then released. The arrow struck the wall at the top of the stairs. The resultant boom in the confined space made all of their ears ring, but judging from the cry of pain at the top of the stairs, the thief that had been hiding at the top suffered far worse. Jeremy and Terrod rushed up the stairs.
Richter recast Haste, not wanting the spell to run out in the middle of the fight. About a third of his mana was gone, but his health was full and his stamina had only decreased by a tenth from his exertions and limited use of Focus.
He followed behind the others. At the top of the stairs, Terrod and Jeremy turned left and immediately started swinging their weapons. Richter looked to the right, but saw nothing except a darkened hallway. He turned to cover his comrades, and immediately felt an intense pain in his lower back! A warning indicator showed massive damage and his health dropped by one hundred points! Turning his head he saw a man behind him. The thief had had stabbed him with a dagger in low back at the break between his chest plate and armored pants. The bastard must have been stealthed and then crit’d him! Muffling a scream he threw his elbow in the thief’s face, and heard the crunch of a nose. He lost his bow in the process, but the blade came out of his back as he got a couple feet of space between him and his attacker. He invoked Ice Dagger, but his cast was off and it failed to pierce the leather armor the thief was wearing. The thief lunged with his dagger and Richter twisted to the side, the blade slicing into his pants. Luckily their reinforced nature kept it from biting deeply into his skin. He grabbed the thief’s wrist with his right hand. They strained for a moment, Richter struggling to control the thief’s blade hand. His increased strength was apparently just enough to keep his opponent from gaining the upper hand. Richter drew his sword across his body with his left hand and slammed the pommel into an already ruined nose. The first strike caused a soft sound like slamming a hammer into meat. The second pommel blow caused a deeper crunch than the first as the delicate bones in the face crumpled under the steel ball at the end of his hilt. The man screamed in total agony. Richter used the man’s disorientation to wrest the dagger from his hand. He plunged the thief’s own dagger into the man’s neck. A spurt of arterial blood sprayed across the wall and Richter’s face when he withdrew the blade.
The pain that he had been able to ignore for a few seconds slammed back to the forefront of his consciousness making his vision dim. He invoked his healing ring, which took the edge off of the pain. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a health potion. The sounds of pain coming from the other room let him know that he didn’t have time to waste. He cast Barkskin, castigating himself for not casting it prior to coming up the stairs. Shoving the thief’s dagger through his belt, he sheathed his sword and picked up his bow. Placed an arrow on string, he hobbled into the next room. The sight that greeted him was not a welcome one.
Terrod had said the Night Blades were a gang about forty strong. An informant had told him that normally only ten to fifteen were in the hideout at night. The rest were out conducting various business and nefarious activities. After all, nighttime was worktime for the thieves. Counting the five that had already died and the few that were on the ground, the dozen or so still standing meant that about half the guild must have been present during the attack. Not counting Terrod, Richter or Sion, there were only six fighters left fighting the rogues tooth and nail.
The only thing that seemed to be preserving his group was that the thieves were fighting cautiously to keep themselves away from the door to the outside. When one crossed in front of the door, a blue streak struck her in the leg causing an audible snap. Well that explains that Richter thought. The thieves were positioning the fighters as a shield against Sion. It wasn’t a bad plan as they had greater numbers and would wear down the band of inexperienced fighters down soon enough. Then they could rush the sprite en-masse and overcome him. That didn’t even take into account the reinforcements that could arrive at any time. Richter decided it was time to ruin their day.
Drawing his bow, he imbued an arrow with minimal force and shot at the closest thief. Not waiting to see results he switched to the next and the next. Over the next few minutes, Richter and Sion took shots of opportunity and their punishing fire broke the will of their opponents. The thieves began throwing their weapons down and falling to their knees. A couple tried to run out into the street, but an arrow from both Sion and Richter landed critical shots in their backs and ended their concerns for the matters of this life. Unfortunately, two more of their group had been killed in the time it took to subdue the thieves. It meant nine of the attacking group had been killed or injured.
They were left with four fighters plus Richter and Sion now guarding three thieves. Two of the standing fighters were wounded with a leg or arm severely hampered. Terrod’s left eye was swelling shut. The potion and the healing magic of the ring had restored the majority of his health, but Richter’s constant movement had reopened the dagger wound in his back causing a small bleeding status. He placed several healing herbs into his mouth and handed a few out to his comrades. Terrod was shouting into the face of one of the prisoners.
“Where are they? I know they haven’t left this building yet so where are they.” The thief stared back insolently. Terrod struck him in the face and then repeated his question. No response. Terrod kicked the man in the chest knocking him down. When he yanked him back up and repeated the question, the man just glared and then spit on the floor.
Richter’s mana was almost completely depleted at
this point, and continual use of Focus to avoid hitting his allies had left him with only 20% of his stamina. Neither was refilling quickly. He had to invest more into Wisdom, especially if he was going to start expanding his spell base. Knowing that even a relatively small force of thieves would wipe them out in their weakened state, Richter stepped forward, “Terrod, let me try.”
Looking at the prisoner, “Look. I know you don’t want us here. We don’t want to be here. There has been blood spilled on both sides. Maybe we are all at fault, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we work together so that we may all see the sunrise. I could continue to let fire fly between you and my friend here, but I don’t have the time. Please just show decency and tell us where the captives are?” Richter’s tone was full of calm and serenity.
Looking up at Richter, the thief replied, “You, and everyone you love, are dead. You think you accomplished something here tonight? Ha! These were our rookies. The ones that were only good for making dinner and ensuring the building didn’t burn down. We will refill our ranks, and when our veterans return, I will enjoy seeing you peeled like a grape!”
Richter nodded during this entire response, looking thoughtful and not interrupting. At the end, he firmed his lips, nodded once more, and then drove his dagger into the thief’s eye. The body start spasming, and even as he cleaned his blade on the dead man’s clothes, the right leg continued to kick erratically. With a deep sigh he moved to the next kneeling man.
“Look. I know you don’t want us here. We don’t want to be here. There has b-”
The man interrupted, “We are both at fault! I agree, please let me help you find your friends!”
“Thank you, lead the way,” Richter said. Terrod stared at him with wide eyes.
The man walked ahead of them to a blank wall. Running his hand along the wooden panels, he found what he was looking for. A small square of wall depressed, and the thief placed his hand inside. They heard a click, and then a section of wall opened. Dragging the door open, a small room could be seen with a trap door in the floor.
“Open it,” Terrod said.
The thief looked nervous, but did as he was asked. As soon at the hatch was lifted, the smell of unwashed bodies with human waste was palpable. Faint wails of despair came out of the hole.
“Get them out of there,” Terrod screamed grabbing the man by the nape of his neck and shoving him toward a ladder.
“Everyone! It’s Terrod. We are getting you out of here, come up the ladder quickly as you can.”
Stinking, weakened figures climbed up the ladder and stood to the side. Upon seeing the thief many began to hiss and grumble. One dwarf wrapped his hands around the man’s neck to throttle him. Terrod had to pull him off, saying they still needed the thief alive. About thirty prisoners made their way up the ladder, Terrod staring in each face before moving to the next. When no one else came up he grew frantic, “Is anyone else still down there? Isabel! Where is Isabel?”
An older dwarf said, “They separated her and a few others from the rest of us as soon as we got here. We haven’t seen her in days.”
Terrod stomped towards the thief with murder in his eyes.
“Th-they sold her,” the thief stammered backing up. “Some of the King’s friends keep nonhumans on their estates as slaves. They use them for cheap labor, sport… or pleasure.”
With a cry, Terrod threw himself at the prisoner, pummeling him with his fists as he cried in rage. This time it was Richter who had to save the man’s life.
“We don’t have time for this,” Richter said. Addressing the thief, “You will die here, now, unless you can help us.”
“There is a ledger,” the thief said. His facial bruises were making his speech slurred. “It’s in the chest where we keep our loot. Please don’t kill me!”
“Get on your feet,” Terrod snarled picking the man up by the arm. Turning to Jeremy he said, “Gather our dead, and lead our people back through the tunnels. Make sure to get Jason and the other wounded to a healer. Be vigilant, but move quickly. Go!” Turning to Richter he asked, “Will you and your friend stay with me?”
“We finish what we start,” Richter replied. Sion nodded.
“Where are we going,” Terrod asked the thief.
“This way.”
The man walked back towards the stairs, and past into the hallway where Richter had suffered his sneak attack. Reminded he told the thief, “If you are planning on leading us into a trap, you had better be sure that it kills us all at once, or I will put an arrow through you head. After seeing how you treated those people, it would be a pleasure.”
The thief whimpered, but nodded. They walked down the hallway on edge. The only reassuring fact was that it was narrow enough that sneak attacks could not come from the rear. They reached a large oaken door which the thief pushed open. Biting his lip, he pointed to the first stone after the door and said, “Don’t step on it.”
Skirting the trap, they followed him into the room and saw a large chest sitting in the middle.
“What’s the catch,” Richter asked.
“I will tell you but on one condition. You have to let me go, and kill the other thief you kept alive. The only way my own gang doesn’t kill me for failure is if they think I was never here. I want your word.”
Terrod moved forward, “I’ll get the answer out of you some other way,” he said raising his mace.
“Stop,” Richter said. “We don’t have time for this! I swear not to kill you, and will let you deal with the other thief. Tell us how to get the ledger!”
“That entire chest is a decoy. It has a powerful sleep spell bound to it which causes hours of unconsciousness in anyone who touches it. The real chest is over here.” The thief walked over to painting and took it down from the wall. Behind it was a chest the size of a microwave. “I don’t know how to open it though, and it weighs an incredible amount.”
“That’s not a problem,” Richter said. Taking his Bag of Holding he slipped it over the chest, reducing its apparent weight of 310 kg to 31 kg, well within the tolerance of his strength.
Terrod stared at him, “Will your wonders never cease.” Walking back, they took care not to trigger the trap, and walked back to the remaining prisoner. Richter handed a dagger to the helpful thief, “I am not here to do your dirty work. Do what you must.”
Taking the dagger, the man slit his former comrade’s throat with no hesitation. Seeing Richter’s outstretched hand, he gave the dagger back. They walked down the stairs and back into the tunnel. Richter looked at the thief and asked, “What is your name.”
“I am called Nil.”
“Well Nil, we made a deal of knowledge for service. You knowledge of the chest for my service of sparing your life. But you owe me for saying you from him,” indicating Terrod. “He would kill you despite what I agreed to. Now say you owe me for saving your life.”
“I owe you, kind sir.”
“Say it again.”
“I owe you my life, sir!”
“And now say it one more time,” Richter said enunciating each and every word.
The thief clearly knew what this meant, but could say little in rebuttal. After seeing the murder and rage in Terrod’s eyes, there was no denying that he owed his survival to Richter. He bowed his head and spread his arms wide. “I owe you, my Lord.”
Richter looked the man in the eye and said, “Thrice heard and witnessed.”
Nil has agreed to do you a favor. Failure to do so when asked will cause a decrease in his reputation with all beings, and other unknown consequences. Keep in mind, your word means everything!
“Now run,” Richter said. “I will collect on what you owe me one day.” Nil ran off giving credence to the old saying of vanishing like a thief in the night. Richter, reminded of the state of the refugees they had rescued, could not leave it like this. Casting Grease once more on the room they had just left, he threw Terrod’s torch into the mix and was rewarded by a whoosh of flame as the furniture and w
alls caught light. Richter, Sion, Terrod and the man who had been guarding the final thief then turned their backs on both the light of the fire and the darkness of their deeds, walking on into the gloom of the tunnel.
CHAPTER 22
They made their way back to the inn without incident. While on the way, Richter dealt with the prompts that littered the edge of his vision.
Congratulations! You have reached skill level 5 in archery. +2% bonus to aim. +2% bonus to damage.
Congratulations! You have reached skill level 4 in Imbue Arrow. +5% damage. +5% speed of mana flow.
Congratulations! You have advanced to level 4 in Herb Lore. Herbs are 3% more effective. Increased chance of finding higher level herbs.
Congratulations! You have advanced to level 2 in Focus. Zoom increased by 0.1x
You have proven yourself to be Honorable. You chose to save the life of a comrade rather than eliminate a threat. +2 to Charisma, 3% decrease in critical strike chance and critical strike damage.
The last seemed a bit of a double edged sword, but he was satisfied with the bargain. Richter would never know for sure, but since coming to the Kingdom, interacting with others had been of the utmost importance. From meeting Caulder, to Rosy’s referral to Terrod, to Leandra selling him the spells that had quite possibly been the deciding factor in the battle with the thieves, his ability to interact with those he had met clearly altered his life here. If he was going to succeed in this new world, he could not do it alone, and he would continue to need help. He would take all of the Charisma he could get!
The next prompt was what caught his attention though.
Congratulations! You have won +500 fame points! You have freed those falsely imprisoned, they will spread word of your bravery!
