John gave a curt shake of his head, then stopped, frowning. "Actually, yes. Something smells... off."
Mason scowled. "The fuck are you talking about? I don't smell anything but the fucking forest."
John shrugged. "What can I say? I've always had a decent sense of smell."
"Great. You can smell shit with the best of them. Real useful life skill, I bet."
"At least I never got sick from eating spoiled food. I can tell the moment leftovers in the fridge have gone bad."
Sophia glanced anxiously at John. "So, um... what exactly are you smelling?"
John furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure." Then he froze, suddenly realizing he recognized the smell. Even before his death, Mr. Harveson had reeked of rotting flesh and cockroaches, all blended together. A putrid scent made all the worse after Mitch blew the former coach’s brains out.
John winced, sickened by the memory. But it didn’t stop him from drawing his saber and pressing onward.
An eerie howl echoed through the dense foliage all around.
The smell intensified.
John turned around. "Draw your swords!"
Mason's eyes widened. "Shit, ambush!" he roared, his cry drowned out by shrieks and howls and the stench of rotting flesh as half a dozen living corpses charged out of the underbrush, and John found himself fighting with his saber in earnest for the first time in his life.
"Duck, pivot, block and cleave!" Mitch's words seemed rang through John's skull as he desperately fought against a living corpse, its gangrenous flesh and suppurating wounds not slowing it in the slightest as its claws scraped against John’s armor. Then it lurched back, flashing John a hideous smile that grew and grew, putrid skin stretching and ripping as its jaws opened impossibly wide, showcasing blackened fangs stinking of death and decay as it lunged for John’s throat, Sophia’s terrified screams drowning out the revenant’s guttural growl.
"Now!" roared the echo of his brother's voice in his mind, John's wrist snapping forward as he lashed out with his saber, the torque of his shoulder and waist magnifying the power of his blow as his wickedly sharp blade cleaved through the air.
John felt a sudden jolt, and it was all he could do to hold tight to the blade as it chopped through bone. The online sword gurus were right. Chopping through flesh and bone was nothing at all like striking tatami mats, and his enemy's shriek and the spurting black viscous blood that splashed in his face wasn’t anything like what he had expected either.
It was all he could do not to vomit from the stench.
He quickly step-slid back, arcing his saber back around in a high backhand blow while using his shield to guard his line as a second ghoul howled and slammed into him, John fighting to keep his balance and push back with his shield, feeling the scrape of black claws against his armored body as he lashed out once more, hitting his foe dead on.
"Don't chop, cleave and draw! Pull the blade close!" Mitch's words continued to echo in his mind as John pulled the blade inwards with his downward slice the moment it bit into the ghoul's skull, assuring as a deep a wound as possible and mitigating any chances of it bouncing off or getting stuck.
The horror that had once been a man collapsed to the ground when John’s blade struck home… before jerking itself upright once more, as if controlled by the strings of a marionette.
John’s heart lurched as the creature smiled, though one eye was gazing off oddly, its skull visibly cracked, brain and black ichor trickling down its face. It shambled forward, oddly off-kilter, and John desperately tried to focus through his terror, at least enough to assure that his savage cleaving slashes didn't clip the shield he now held angled and high, tearing through the ghoul's fingers, palms, and wrists until it lurched back and hissed; black, ichor-covered stumps no longer a threat to John.
"John, behind you!" Sophia cried out.
Finesse check made! Quickness check made!
John hissed and spun, realizing his peril only at the last moment, his blade arcing out in a backhand slash as the horror that would have torn his throat out was instead disemboweled, though it stumbled for only a moment before howling and charging forward once more, almost tripping over its own entrails in its frantic haste to get to John.
You have been struck by Savage Blows for 30 damage and 1 Medium Wound! Armor reduces damage to 10 health and 1 Light Wound!
John was caught off guard by how brutally the revenant could pummel him. His ribs creaked as the creature howled and struck, using fists that felt like clubs when claws failed to penetrate his armor.
Grappling check failed! You're on the ground! Sword and shield skill check made! Your blade is where you most need it to be!
John’s breath was forced out of him as the yellow-eyed corpse slammed him to the ground. But he had not been idle while his foe had worked him over, desperately shifting his blade between his foe's snapping jaw and neck before jerking it with furious, desperate sawing motions. His armor was all that kept his own flesh from being shredded as he used his saber with both hands, more interested in survival than proper technique.
The creature roared and flinched back, viscous black blood pouring everywhere. John used the sudden space to whip his blade forward, cleaving right through the monster’s throat.
The rotting head was sent tumbling to the ground, and John’s gut lurched as the remaining revenants tore into his companions.
Mason was a fearsome sight to behold, dodging and weaving with surprising grace, powerful arcing blows with his Viking-style blade sending limbs sailing from the horrors they faced. Yet cold and hard as his eyes were, they widened with genuine terror when Sophia screamed for help, brought to the ground by a pair of snarling revenants who immediately began tearing into her flesh.
Filled with fury equal to his terror, John charged the pair of revenants, shield-bashing the closest one and stabbing its gut when it stumbled and fell, wincing when his sword flexed and failed to penetrate, reminded of the limitations of this pristinely effective cutter. The 1796 Light cavalry saber, and apparently this one as well, couldn't thrust for shit. Especially not at the odd angle he had to hold it.
But raining down cleaving blows upon the neck of a stumbling enemy? That it could do as well as any saber in existence, as he found fierce pleasure in demonstrating, his blade cleanly slicing through the spine of the glaring revenant. The creature collapsed in a shower of blood, nearly decapitated by the vicious blow.
"Sophia, are you okay?" John reached out for the fallen girl, sobbing and crying and leaking blood from her clawed face and crushed nose.
"John, get your head in the game!" Mason roared, but it was already too late.
An unseen enemy had ambushed him, and he collapsed with a wheeze, feeling like he had just been hit by a freight truck.
You have been struck by a surprise attack! You suffer 30 damage and a Medium Wound. Ribs have been cracked and Dominion breastplate damaged. -3 to skill checks until healed. (Adrenaline Surge in effect. Penalties temporarily negated.)
-Move, John!-
John forced himself to take a wheezing breath and open his eyes, desperate to move his stunned body while a massive revenant glared down at him. The red glowing eyes and ebony fangs made it clear that this abomination was a cut above what they had faced so far. Taking it down would be a major challenge, and if John weren't careful, it would be his death as well.
-Where the fuck is my sword?-
John frantically scrabbled back, seeing his blade just a few feet away.
His foe roared, charging forward with ebony claws shining in the golden rays of light spearing through the forest gloom. Time seemed to slow as John’s thoughts raced, knowing he had been caught flat-footed and disarmed. Nothing but the short backup knife at his belt, as much an eating utensil as emergency weapon, stood between him and death.
It was everything he could do just to jerk the blade out of its sheath and brace for impact as the monstrosity slammed into him, stunning him as he crashed to the ground once more.
> You have taken 15 damage from Bodyslam! Save versus stun made!
John was flooded with wracking pain as the horror tore into him, black claws scraping against his armor. The cracking sound of either polymer plates or bones breaking could be heard.
Knowing he was a dead man walking, John committed himself to a desperate thrust and tear, his blade just barely biting into the tough, sinewy leather-like flesh of his foe. A shiver of resistance, and his blade plunged through intestines now spewing foul contents all over him, stinking so bad he wanted to wretch. It was a hideous wound that phased his foe not at all as it began pummeling John with powerful fists that slammed so hard he feared death was imminent even with his helm, unless he could clinch this bastard tightly to him.
Grappling skill check successful!
The creature snarled as John desperately grabbed and twisted back claws eager to tear and rend, pivoting into a leg lock and tucking his helmeted head against the horror's chin, effectively neutralizing its ability to do anything but gnaw at John's steel-covered head.
He would have felt relief if his heart wasn't pounding with battle-terror. He had bought himself a few seconds, as long as his grip could hold against the undead horror bucking and writhing in his grasp.
Then John gasped, feeling his very soul getting sucked out of his body.
He cried out as desperate hands that had temporarily warded the revenant's hideous claws began to weaken, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold for more than a handful of seconds. And then the revenant could easily jerk up John's jaw and tear out a throat protected only by the thinnest of armaments.
The horror smiled, showing off blackened teeth. It could sense John's death was fast approaching as well.
Something in John's gut seethed with a sudden hot fury, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Even as he felt his soul wilt under a strange, vacuum-like pressure, his hideously grinning foe seeking somehow to draw him in.
John howled with a killing rage that transcended all thought. Raw and primal. A savage hatred greater even than the contempt he had felt for the foul, cannibalistic coach Harveson.
Burning him from within.
John cried out with agony and darkest hunger, squeezing tight with limbs filled with renewed strength. He met the revenant’s diseased gaze and realized it was afraid.
Its snarl turned to a forlorn howl as it bucked and twisted, and John imagined he could feel its corrupted life-force flooding into him.
As if just by experiencing the horror feeding upon him, something had awoken deep inside his soul. A hideous darkness just like the horror he faced, eager to feed in turn.
His smile grew and his heart pounded with renewed vigor as he allowed the darkness within to feast.
A furious wrench as the revenant struggled, suddenly broke free. Hooting like a jackal as once-more freed claws went for John's throat.
Then the horror's obsidian eyes widened, its skull cleaved neatly in two by Mason's blade.
For endless moments, nothing could be heard but their violent panting and Sophia's groaning sobs.
"You alive, kid?"
John gave a quick nod before dizziness and pain washed over him, sickened by the sudden rush of unholy pleasure roaring through his soul. The revenant slumped over him was shriveling up like a raisin even as John scurried back, wanting to howl with euphoria and horror as he felt every last iota of that thing's dark potential flooding into his newly reinvigorated soul.
Dazed and uncertain, no longer sure what was real and what was just the desperate adrenalized frenzy of combat, he forced himself to speak. "Thanks, Mason. Damn. I think you, well..." He winced, not wanting to say it, afraid he knew how this player's mind worked all too well.
"Don't mention it, kid. Because if you do, I gotta accept the fact that you just might have saved my girl's life. And I'm not one for owing anyone shit."
Mason held out a hand to John. "We adventure together, we watch each other's backs, and now I know you aren't a back-stabbing lily-livered piece of shit that's going to 'chute out the first chance he gets. Let's leave it at that."
John dipped his head as he took the man's hand, Mason effortlessly heaving him back to his feet. "Fair enough."
"Good. Now hack off the heads of all of these bastards while I check on my girl."
John nodded, quickly spotting the six fallen revenants, disgusted to see them all twitching, two trying to get up once more, for all that they were missing limbs and organs both.
"What's wrong with you!?" Mason roared at a now trembling, wide-eyed Sophia. "Why the hell didn't you chute out?"
She broke down in sobs, but Mason had already picked her up. John was embarrassed that he couldn't better tune out their words while he went about the grisly task of cleaving off all the revenants' heads, surprised to see them shrivel up the minute he did so, chilled to feel that same dark rush of icy satisfaction as their bodies crumpled to dust and bones.
His eyes widened as he sensed something suddenly spilling over in his mind's eye, knowing something significant had occurred.
Congratulations, you have leveled up! Now find someplace to safely quantize your growth before you collapse, becoming easy prey for someone more worthy than you!
"Damn it, I told you, you don't have to do this. You don't have to level up. I don't care about your scars. You think they mean shit to me? What the hell do I do if I lose you?"
John stumbled to his knees, the sudden jolt of pain and fear of losing consciousness in enemy territory jolted him awake once more. Damn. Never had leveling up been like this in any game he had ever played.
Mason glared his way as John approached. "Did you take care of those fuckers?"
John dipped his head.
"Good. Now cut off their fucking ears, and let's head back, see if that mayor's bloody husband can fix up my girl." He clenched his fist. "After what we just went through, he damn well better, or he and I are going to have words."
John winced, fighting against exhaustion, giving a single tired nod as he turned around.
But of his foes, there was nothing left but dust and bone.
"Uh... Mason? We got a problem."
"What the fuck are you talking about? We gotta get Sophia back now! Get over your squeamish bullshit and get me those goddamned ears!"
"I can't, Mason. There are no ears left to get!"
Mason glared with sudden ire before he looked where John was pointing, giving an angry shake of his head. "Oh, this shit just gets better and better. Sophia's fucked up so bad she'll be in serious trouble if we can't get her help stat, and now there's nothing left of those bastards but bones!"
John nodded. He couldn't help but note Sophia's increasingly ragged breathing. Her helm and breastplate had been removed, and John could see the awful gashes at least one of those horrors had inflicted on her. John could only hope she hadn't punctured a lung. Mason paled. "Alright, John. Shit just got real serious. We gotta get Sophia back to that town right the fuck now!"
John nodded. "I agree. But first, we need a stretcher."
Mason glared, then drew his chopping blade once more. "You got that right. Take the tent frame you got and rip off the fabric. I'll cut us a couple of branches." Eyes filled with sudden desperation met John's own. "You gonna 'chute out on me, kid?"
John scowled. "Fuck no. But if I don't crash soon, I'm gonna collapse, so hurry up!"
"What the hell do you mean? You look fine. Shit, you're covered in blood, but now you look fine!"
John swallowed, chilled to realize that despite the memory of gashes, cuts, bruises, and cracked ribs, he was now utterly pain-free, troubled only by exhaustion and worry for the girl wheezing even now. "It's not that. It's just... I think I'm about to level up."
Mason gave an angry shake of his head. "For fuck's sake, keep it together! We'll get Sophia to town, then you can 'chute out and come back once you level. Damn. You didn't even touch the obelisk, did you?"
John blinked. Obelisk? Then all his attention was drawn to So
phia, eyes wide, her wheezing getting worse. John tried for a reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get you to a healer."
Sophia flashed a bloody smile, squeezing his hand. "I don't suppose you have any healing skills or potions or anything?"
She began coughing. John was alarmed to see bright red phlegm spray from her lips.
"No, I'm sorry," he whispered.
She scrunched her eyes shut in sudden pain. "I know you're new, like me. And healers, yeah, not too many. But a girl can hope, right?"
"Sure," John swallowed, then turned to the sound of heavy footsteps. "You're back," he said, surprised by the sudden flush of relief he felt with Mason’s return.
"Of course I am, noob. Now help me with these poles. I already stripped them. Alright, that looks as good as we're gonna get out here," he said, one tarp sacrificed for the cause as they carefully placed Sophia onto their makeshift gurney before heading back down the forest trail at as fast a pace as they could manage with an additional pair of trophies strapped to John's pack.
His arms began to burn like fire by the time they hit the halfway mark, which was good, John thought, as it helped him push aside his exhaustion. And after what seemed an endless march fighting the twin specters of pain and fatigue, the picturesque town of Goldenwheat came into view once more.
The utter lack of reception as they stumbled back into town was not what John had been expecting. It was as if they had stumbled upon a ghost town. Though the buildings they caught sight of were perfectly preserved, but there was no trace of its former inhabitants, not even the stray cats, dogs, or pigs, all of which John had caught sight of, just hours ago. All was utterly silent and still, save for flickering shadows and the crack of shutters banging in the wind.
John and Mason exchanged glances.
"Shit," Mason whispered.
John grimaced and nodded. "We're heading back to the town hall?"
Mason sighed. "Unless we want to trundle up to the keep, where the mayor's husband has his ward set up, yeah. Let's see if there's anyone there."
But the place was completely abandoned.
Queen Killer Page 8
