by S. R. Witt
I wondered if she’d respawned somewhere else and if she carried a grudge. Then I was out of time to wonder anything as my brother met the first monster head-on.
Bastion’s sword ripped the pointy nose from the lead goblin’s face before the wiry little monster realized it had entered melee range. My brother followed up the brutal slice with a spinning elbow that crushed the humanoid’s skull and knocked its leather helm skidding across the snow in a spray of greasy green blood. Just like that, one goblin bit the dust.
Too bad for us there were plenty more of the bandy-legged little bastards screaming out of the trees, hungry for our blood.
Bastion deflected another goblin’s clumsy strike with his longsword, then tilted his shoulder to let another slash skid off his pauldron. He was a hell of a fighter, but my brother wasn’t paying attention to how many foes were lining up to take a shot at him.
A horde of goblins was almost within fighting range, and it wouldn’t be long before Bastion was overrun. Even his fancy armor and flaming sword wouldn’t be enough to keep a lucky goblin blade from finding its way into his flesh.
It was time for me to even the odds.
A quick pull and release sent one of my handcrafted arrows sailing toward the combat. The missile flew straight and smacked one of the goblins in the back hard enough to drive it into one of its angry buddies.
VERBOSE COMBAT MESSAGING ON
WEAPON (BOW) SKILL CHECK:
UNTRAINED
1/2 Dexterity (8) + d100 (73) + Ambush (25) = 106
vs
Dexterity (12) + Evade (0 Surprised) + d100 (64) = 76.
Skill Check Result = 30
Degree of Success = 2
(Missile Weapon Piercing Damage 15 X Degree of Success (2)) + Dexterity Damage Modifier (15) = 45 points of damage - Ratty Leather Armor (5) = 40 Total Damage
Attack Time: 5 seconds
Stamina Cost: 1
SUCCESS! You have learned the rudiments of the Weapon (Bow) skill. (Rank 1)
Interesting. The system provided more detailed information as I spent more time in-Game. It must have some sort of adaptive learning mechanism in place to ease players into the simulation without overwhelming them with thousands of mechanical details right out of the gate. As interesting as this new information was, I blinked the status window away to focus on the task at hand.
There’d be time to look at all that juicy detail after the goblins were dead.
The goblin I’d hit had just a sliver of red left in his health bar, but he was still trying to get at Bastion. Without a critical injury to slow him down, the little bastard would keep on fighting as if he were in the prime of his right up until the moment he died. Unlike the real world, a mortally wounded foe could be just as deadly as a fresh one.
Before my attack timer wound down to zero and I could fire again, Bastion slashed the head off another goblin and drove his fist into yet another’s guts hard enough to wipe out half its hit points. I’d have to ask Bastion how he was getting two attacks to my one when this was over.
Doubling up like that could be awful handy.
My timer disappeared from the lower left corner of my vision with a faint hum I felt more than heard, and I unleashed another shot at the first goblin I’d wounded.
The verbose combat message wasn’t necessary to let me know I’d fucked up.
My arrow glanced off the goblin’s shoulder and then plowed into Bastion’s cheek. My misfire carved an ugly red line from the corner of my brother’s mouth up to his temple.
Bastion swore and jerked away from the unexpected injury. Distracted, he dropped his guard, and one of the goblins got in a lucky stab with a crude spear. The weapon’s tip slipped between the armor plates protecting Bastion’s left leg and punched through the layer of chain mail beneath. Blood splattered the snow, and Bastion struggled to stay on his feet with the goblin’s weapon jutting from his thigh.
Waiting five seconds for my next attack was excruciating. One goblin after another slashed or stabbed at Bastion with frenzied gusto. For every attack he deflected with his longsword, or let his armor absorb, two more slipped through his defenses. The wounds weren’t serious, yet, but he was limping, and the damage was piling up. Less than thirty seconds into the fight and his hit points were down by a tenth.
My timer vanished, and I fired again. This shot flew straight, and the goblin I’d wounded went down with an arrow through the back of its skull.
CRITICAL HIT!
Opponent’s brain skewered by your arrow!
You have slain a Goblin Scout!
You have increased your mastery of the Weapon (Bow) skill. (Rank 2)
The house lights blazed to life. The front door flew open, and a portly man in expensive robes burst out into the snowy night. “What is this madness? Alarum! Guards! Someone! Help!”
Great, the merchant was awake. His panicked shouts echoed through the winter air like the cries of a frightened bird. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if they could hear him all the way back in Frosthold.
Bastion took advantage of the merchant’s alarm to skewer one distracted goblin and kick another one to the ground.
An arrow from me killed a third. If we could keep it up, we might just get out of this alive.
The merchant kept on hollering. His voice cracked with terror as he called for someone to rescue him.
But, instead of getting the attention of some kind-hearted guards, the fat man drew some curious monsters to his location.
Half of the goblins turned to the house, deciding the chubby man wearing fancy pajamas was a less challenging opponent than the heavily armored warrior with a burning blade.
The merchant doubled down on bleating like a wounded lamb. His voice spiraled into a scream as the goblins stalked toward him with their nasty weapons at the ready. “Help! Guards!”
A goblin broke from the pack and charged the merchant. He made it three steps before he went down with one of my arrows jutting from his throat. It was a nice shot, but it wasn’t enough.
The rest of the marauding goblins were mere yards from the house. The merchant screamed again and slammed the door before the runty killers could drag him into the house and gut him like a pig.
The door held, for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before the bow-legged maniacs hacked their way through the barrier and poured into the cottage like a pack of rabid rats.
Even worse, my shot into their ranks had attracted unwanted attention. A few of them broke from the pack and scrambled up the far side of the house.
My ambush was about to turn into a straight-up fight, and I was terrible at those.
Great, I thought, this can’t get any worse.
“Saint!” Bastion shouted a warning.
My brother stabbed his sword toward the woods as more goblins poured from the trees.
CHAPTER THREE
The goblins were going to kill Bastion and me if something didn’t change.
“Get to the house!” I shouted to my brother.
It wasn’t much of a strategy, but it was all I had. If we were going to die, at least we could die fighting side-by-side.
And death seemed more likely by the second. There were so many goblins, and just the two of us to fight all of them.
A flash of fire and the rolling rumble of thunder nearby made me flinch. My shot missed the goblin it’d been aimed at.
What the hell was that?
The flash had come from the Frosthold’s direction, but it was too close to have come from within its walls. Even though its source couldn’t have been more than a few hundred yards away, I couldn’t see any signs of fire in the direction it’d come from.
My timer vanished, and I popped off another shot at a goblin near the cottage’s door. I was still preoccupied with the fireball I’d seen, though, and my shot went wide. I didn’t even get a system message telling me I’d improved my abysmal archery skill ranks for my trouble.
The shot did attract the attention of yet more
goblins, however, and they decided to join the rooftop party.
Bastion’s burning sword light up the night as it carved a path to the cottage. Goblins fell before him, their heads and torsos split wide open, but there were so many goblins swarming toward Bastion I had to look away for fear I’d see him go down with a pack of stabbing monsters on his back.
Besides, I had plenty to worry about myself. More goblins reached the rooftop by the second. My hands were full.
The merchant bleated for help from inside the house. “Won’t someone do something?”
Why don’t you get off your fat butt and lend a hand? I thought as a pair of goblins clambered onto the roof.
The bow was useless at this range, so I skipped back a few steps from the oncoming foes, slung it over my shoulder, and drew a stiletto with my free hand.
The roof was too narrow at its peak for more than two of the goblins to come at me, which was a blessing. The first pair glared at me over their crude weapons and licked their lips. The larger of the two jabbed his short scimitar in my direction and commanded, “You die, now!”
How rude. Close quarters battle didn’t leave me with much brain power for witty rejoinders, so I shot back, “No, you die!”
The goblins unleashed outraged shrieks and came at me with blackened swords flailing.
The first attack swooped toward my face. I twisted to the side, and it whistled through the cold air an inch from the tip of my nose.
The second goblin tried to skewer my kidney with his crooked spear, but I was too fast for him. A quick sidestep on my part sent the little bastard skidding past me.
Just like that, I’d slipped behind the charging goblins.
SUCCESS! You have increased your mastery of the Evade skill. (Rank 2)
With their backs to me, the goblins were defenseless. I hooked an arm around the smaller goblin’s throat and yanked him onto his tiptoes.
I drove my stiletto into his kidney, then ripped it up into his lungs.
At least I’m pretty sure it was a him. Hard to tell with these greasy little monsters.
The goblin went limp in my arms, and I shoved him at his buddy before the survivor could figure out I’d slipped behind him. The pair tangled together for a moment, and I hoped they’d take a fall off the snow-covered roof, but my luck wasn’t running that hot.
The surviving goblin let his pal’s corpse slide away and attacked with a flurry of wild swings that drove me back toward the cottage’s chimney. His blade flashed through the air again and again, but my frantic dodging kept me just out of killing range.
Then my attack timer vanished, and I responded with a lunging stab of my own. Unlike the goblin, I connected with something other than air. My foe’s throat opened like a second mouth and vomited steaming blood into the cold night air.
My victory cry became a strangled yelp as something pointy punctured my back. My hit points took an alarming dive, and I realized I wasn’t the only one who could launch an ambush.
I stumbled away from the attack and drew my second stiletto as I turned to face the next set of goblins. This pair was a little taller than the others and carried spears tipped with jagged blades. No wonder that attack hurt so much.
A quick glance at the battle below showed me Bastion was faring about the same as me. He’d made some progress in moving my direction, and the ground was littered with dead goblins, but more poured out of the forest with every passing moment. Bastion was a lot sturdier than me, but his opponents were chipping away at his health bar. Individually, the goblins weren’t a threat. But, if we didn’t do something to stem the tide, their sheer numbers would wear us down.
A spear-wielding goblin wearing a ragged leather helm thrust his weapon at me, and I slapped it away with the flat of my dagger. The spear’s tip grazed my shoulder, leaving a nasty cut through my cloak and a deep gouge in my leather armor. Clearly, the gear the Society of Shadows supplied wasn’t meant for this kind of abuse.
I counterattacked, but the second goblin stepped in to parry my blow with his spear. My whiffed attack threw me off balance.
Another blow glanced off my right hip, and I realized too late that the goblins had climbed up onto the roof behind me. More of them swarmed up the steeply sloped sides of the roof, weapons at the ready. I was surrounded.
If I stayed put, they’d use me for a pincushion.
“Coming through!” I shouted and plunged down the roof toward the narrowest concentration of goblins.
Surprised by my sudden change in tactics, the monsters stared as I crashed through their midst and leaped from the eaves to the snowy ground below. My boots hit the snow and plunged through its icy crust with a dull snap. The ground was sloped, and my heels slipped on the frozen earth, pitching me backward in a graceless tumble. Snow stuck to my clothes and armor as I bounced and rolled downhill like the world’s sloppiest snowball.
My personal avalanche came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, leaving me face down in the snow as jeering goblins rushed to the attack. A spear punched through the snow next to my head, which was all the motivation I needed to get moving.
A quick roll to the left gave me the room I needed to get back on my feet and draw my second stiletto. On the plus side, my stunt had put me next to Bastion, which I hoped gave us a better chance at survival. “I thought you could use some help,” I said with a grin.
Bastion responded by cleaving another goblin in half, sending the separated halves of its scorched torso tumbling into the snow even as its spindly legs quivered and tried to obey the missing brain’s last command to run. “Oh, I thought you were coming over so I could hold your hand. I know how scared you get in a real fight.”
My clever return barb was cut short by the swarming goblins and their reckless attacks. My stilettos flashed to bat away a pair of attacks from goblins armed with hooked scimitars. I shifted my weight to the left to dodge a crooked knife before it could rip open my belly. A snarling goblin thrust his spear at my midsection, leaving me no option but to twist sideways to avoid being impaled.
A rush of adrenaline flowed through me. Time seemed to slow as another goblin thrust his spear at my ribs. Despite the pitched battle raging around me, I felt no rush to act. In the eye of the storm, I had the time I needed to see what was happening and save myself.
My right arm came up and deflected the incoming spear. The rough wood of its haft skidded over the heavy leather greaves protecting my forearm, and the spear rammed into the chest of another goblin as it reared back to hack at Bastion with a rusty ax.
The two goblins stared at one another just long enough to realize what had happened.
CONGRATULATIONS! You have learned the Friendly Fire talent and are now eligible to ascend to Level 3. See the in-Game help system for additional information regarding Talents and their use.
Time lurched back into motion, and the chaos of battle forced me to blink away the status message. That trick was cool as hell, but I had no idea how I’d managed it. I had a lot of reading to do after this battle.
Bastion lopped the upper third off a goblin’s skull, splashing me with brains and blood. “Keep fighting!”
The goblin who’d just speared his friend gulped and met my eyes. A straight-armed thrust drove my weapon through his left eye socket. Bastion unleashed a victorious whoop, cheering on my murderous onslaught, but I knew things were not looking good for the two of us.
Even if I killed one goblin every five seconds, the math was not in our favor. There were ten goblins just in our immediate area, and the yips and shrill battle cries of at least twenty more echoed through the cold air around us. Bastion could attack twice every five seconds, and I could get one stab off in the same time, but we’d get three times that many attacks coming back at us. Even if only a quarter of those attacks hit and did just five damage each, we were less than a minute from being human pincushions.
Stamina was going to be an issue soon, too. The yellow bar beneath my health was dropping steadily. Every attack I made
brought me closer to exhaustion.
Unless I could figure out how to even the odds a little, things were about to get very ugly for my brother and me.
Thunder rolled, and a pillar of fire shot up from the forest less than fifty feet away. Hot wind rolled across the battlefield, kicking up a gossamer veil of melting snow.
What the hell was that?
The goblins didn’t give us time to ponder that question. Parry, parry, dodge, counterattack. There didn’t seem to be any limit to the number of attacks I could defend against, as long as I could see them coming, but I still had no idea what triggered the Friendly Fire talent.
Bastion kicked a goblin so hard its whole chest caved in around his foot, but his longsword missed its mark. He was getting tired and sloppy. Just as I’d feared, the goblins were wearing us down with raw numbers.
We were in trouble.
More goblins piled into the fray, slashing, stabbing, and screaming at me. I was a parrying fool and was very glad defensive maneuvers didn’t eat up my Stamina, but all the blocking didn’t leave me a second to go on the offensive.
Then it hit me. I knew what I had to do.
I sheathed my stilettos.
“Are you nuts?” Bastion shouted over the din of battle.
Dodging kept me too busy to respond. Without the daggers to bat aside attacks, my side of the fight turned into a high-stakes game of limbo. Up, down, side, twist, jump—
Time slowed to a crawl again. A goblin’s arm flashed past my nose, and I snared its wrist and elbow between my gloved hands. A slight adjustment of the arm’s angle forced the goblin’s scimitar to rip open another goblin’s throat.
