by Galen Wolf
Two Fangs of Koth charge at me on their skeletal horses. Spirit turns to face them and I see Blodeuwedd fluttering above. I take both of them on and one of our squires, a guy called Arminius, who I’ve seen around Camelot but don’t really know comes to help me. I chop into my assailant. I don’t know what level he is, but I’m better skilled and he turns and tries to run when he sees he’s losing. He sips a health potion frantically as he pulls his undead horse round and I charge after him, lance sitting comfortably in my grip. I hit him, autocrit and he’s dead.
It’s really a bad idea for them to try to get away from me. Spirit is a good horse. I’m mostly going to catch them. I turn just in time to see the Fang slaughter Arminius. That makes me mad so I go to avenge him.
This Fang, called Deadeyes, is a better match for me. He hits me and I hit him. I sip health and he sips health. But I’m doing more damage to him than he is to me, so even if it simply comes down to attrition I win. Then, he turns and tries to flee. It’s the same story as before. Spirit catches him and the lance takes him down.
This diversion is going well. That is until I turn to see I’m almost alone. Most of our NPCs are dead. They did well, but against overwhelming odds they’re dead. Near me there’s only a knight called Sir Basil and a squire called Elektron. That’s all the friendly players I can see.
Blodeuwedd calls down. “Oh dear.”
I scan the battlefield, expecting more enemy players, but it’s worse than that. Coming at me like a red scaled dragon on huge legs is Satanus himself. My mouth goes dry, my palm goes sweaty. My hand’s on the hilt of my sword but I sheathe it. I could run. But then there’s the rules of chivalry. Never turn your back on an enemy. Even the Great Enemy himself.
Satanus is huge. He’s not human that’s for sure. He’s some kind of pit fiend, with eyes like glowing coals, and a face of scaly black. I see his tongue flick serpentine between his yellow pointed teeth. Satanus roars, and I roar back, “For my God and King!” I couch my crystal lance and charge.
Satanus opens his mouth and it’s like looking into the maw of hell. He sucks in air and breathes out fire. A torrent of blazing red and yellow engulfs me.
27
Camelot Overthrown
I shimmer back into existence at my binding point at the little village of Croglin. As I stand by the village milestone where I bound, I hear the sound of chickens, sheep and the click-click of someone using shears out of sight. The sky is blue and fluffy white clouds roll over the hills to the east. War doesn’t seem to have touched Croglin. Not so the west. I stare west to Camelot. I can’t see the city but I see palls of dirty black smoke rising.
I get a personal message on my HUD from Luc: You ok?
Followed by Mercurius: Hope you got safe. The king got away, thank the Lord. He’s fine and riding to Caer. City isn’t fine. Walls will breach any time.
Gorrow: Luc. Yeah I’m good. Mercurius — you went back?
Mercurius: *nod* Bound down at Inglewood then came back. Not many of us here. Stay away I would.
I whistle Spirit and he appears unscathed and apparently happy to see me.
I think of Silver Drift and how I need to get there and take charge. Who knows what the enemy will do now? But I made a promise to Oliver Stone. I check to see if the Devs have replied to my ticket. I go on the ticket tab and see I have a message waiting.
<+Carlo: Re: moving NPCs. Yes, it can be done. Message me with name of NPC. Current location and desired location.>
I message him back
Then I think of the green bearded dwarf Asterix who runs the employment exchange. I’m not wholly philanthropic here. I don’t want these NPCs to be wiped out, but both of them will be useful for me in building up Silver Drift, for as long as my village can survive. I send +Carlo, whose + is to indicate he’s a dev, and ask if he can move him to Silver Drift. I haven’t asked the dwarf’s permission, but his choice is between Silver Drift and obliteration so it seems a no brainer.
Then Blodeuwedd flutters down from above and lands on my shoulder in a flapping of white wings. “Hey, boss. What’s up?”
I’m still staring at the sky full of smoke over to the west.
“Back to Camelot.”
“Seriously? And certain death.”
“I’m not planning on dying. And if I do, I’ll just come back here. I need to get into the city and bring out Oliver and the dwarf Asterix and take them back to Silver Drift.”
“Generous.”
“Not really. I need their skills.”
“Still. Heroic.”
I laugh. “If you say so.”
I mount Silver. As we ride west along the grassy village street a farmer NPC leans over his stone wall. “Is it true Camelot has fallen?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. Probably soon though.”
“And war will come to us?”
What can I tell him? “I think so.”
He grimaces. “The evil ones will wipe out all of us NPCs, take over our village and re-people with orcs and beast-men.”
I have no reply to that.
He continues, “You’re a Knight of the Round Table. Can’t you protect us?”
This is really digging in. I’m about to tell him there’s no way I can do that, then I remember the laws of chivalry: To protect the weak and defenceless. I say, “I will protect you as long as I am able.”
That seems to give the farmer some peace of mind and he turns to go back to his crops. I ride west to Camelot.
It’s not long before I see the signs of war — a burned wagon upturned on the road. A peasant hamlet torched by the enemy, their fields ruined, their animals dead.
About a mile out of Camelot I stop to regard the city, beautiful even despite its scars, stands behind its walls, mounted up against a dark sky. Six halberdiers emerge from a thicket beside the road. “Sir Gorrow,” they say. “We fled the battlefield. Can you lead us now?”
As a knight of the round table, I have the authority to command all our troops. I simply need to claim the command via the military tab on the HUD. I see a blinking signal and there I am offered command of the Currock Yeomanry. This was a unit of 120, now there’s 6 remaining. I take command and become their officer.
Leading them to possible death, we march west.
The East Gate of Camelot looms open. There are no guards on the wall and both the woodwork and stonework and pocked and scorched by enemy action.
“What are you going to do?” Blodeuwedd asks.
There are no enemy troops obvious here. I guess they are in the city looting. We probably killed a fair few of them too, so they will need to replenish, which they can do once they take control of the city by destroying the city milestone. It looks like they haven’t done that yet, so there must be some resistance still.
“The breach is in the north wall,” Blodeuwedd says. That makes sense. That’s where their artillery was directed. I look up and see that the Alchemists tower is in bits and the Priests Tower half destroyed, but of the Knights Tower, there is no sign, just a gaping hole in the wall like a dentist yanked it out with pliers. As we get closer, I hear screams and the sound of combat inside. I give orders to my six halberdiers. “Go find a house to lurk in. Stay there. Keep out of sight. Don’t fight. I’ll be back.”
They accept the order and disappear into one of the stone houses just inside the East Gate. One that isn’t too badly smashed. I ride through the streets, getting closer to the city square and Oliver Stone’s shop. I come to a smaller square and see around twelve archers defending a hasty made barricade of boxes and sharpened stakes that they’ve set up to repel enemies. There is a unit of trolls bearing down on them. The biggest trolls have already got to the barricade and are pulling out stakes and boxes and hurling them behind, so they can get to the archers.
I take my
lance and charge. I hit the first troll from behind, killing him instantly. I take out my sword and slash right and left.
It’s no contest against these low level enemy troops, each time I hit I do 1200 and I crit for 4800. Even against their better armed sergeants, I’m doing 950. The archers cheer as I cut down their enemies, my assault giving them fresh courage.
The archers want to chase them down. But I shout for them to halt. I look to my Military Tab and see I have the option of taking over the archers. Soon I’m in command of the twelve remaining archers of the Raffles Light Archers.
I speak to their sergeant. “Go to the east gate and rendezvous with some halberdiers that are there. Get ready to withdraw from the city.”
“Don’t you want us to come with you?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ll meet you by the East Gate.”
When I get to Oliver Stone’s shop, I see it’s barricaded. Before going in, I check my messages. +Carlo has been as good as his word. <+Carlo: Sure. No problem. Both Oliver Stone and Asterix can be moved to Silver Drift.>
I dismount Spirit and knock on the door. Blodeuwedd says, “What if he’s not in?”
“Where’s he going to go?”
“You’re right, I suppose.”
I knock again. “It’s me Gorrow.”
At the sound of my voice, I hear the rattling of keys and the drawing back of a bolt. The NPC looks terrified. “They’re everywhere,” he says. “I was sure they’d kill me.”
“They will,” Blodeuwedd says.
Oliver’s eyes go even wider. “Hush,” I tell the owl. “We’ll get you out of here, Oliver. You’re lucky they didn’t loot you already. They’ve done most of the other shops.
He shrugs. “Richer pickings there. What can they loot from an architect?”
“I think they just enjoy murder for its own sake,” the owl says, earning another sharp glance from me.
“Let’s go, Oliver.” I say.
“I can move?”
“I’ve got permission. You can set up an office in Silver Drift.”
“That little village? What business will I get there.”
“All of mine for a start.”
“And you’ll survive,” the owl says. “Think yourself lucky that Sir Gorrow thought of you at all.”
Oliver is abashed. We step out onto the street.
“I need to go get Asterix.”
“The dwarf?” Oliver says.
“Yes, the guy with the long green beard.”
“Do we really need him?” Oliver says.
“Do we really need you?” Blodeuwedd answers.
Chastened, Oliver shuts up and we walk warily through the streets to the dwarf’s office. I rap on the door. He too is barricaded in. Like for the architects the enemy soldiers will have gone for richer pickings, planning to come back and slaughter other NPCs later.
There’s no response so I knock again. “It’s me, Gorrow. You remember I hired some soldiers and miners from you to go up to my place on Alston Moor?”
Finally, a timorous voice says, “Yes? What do you want?”
“To save your skin,” Blodeuwedd says.
“I’ve got permission for you to come to my village and set up business there.”
For a second I think he’s going to object like Oliver did on the grounds there won’t be much business for him. Then I hear the key turn in the lock. He comes out, pulling on his coat. “Let’s go,” he says.
Suits me. We turn towards the East Gate, me the owl, the dwarf and the architect. Camelot is coming down around our ears. More buildings are on fire, showers of rubble fall from the upper storeys. I urge Spirit into a trot and the two NPCs hurry to catch up.
Then four Hill Giants led by a player character come round the corner led by Melchior, one of the high level Fangs of Koth. My heart sinks. I can’t afford to die here. I need to get the NPCs and the remaining troops up to Silver Drift.
Melchior calls, “If it isn’t little Gorrow. You may have a fancy shield and pennant now, but that don’t make no difference to me.”
He brings out a war axe with a flaming red haze around it.
Just then there is an awful crashing sound like a load of cymbals falling downstairs, followed by a dull rumbling like an earthquake. The sky goes from grey to black with red flashes. All the enemy troops in the city let out a roar of triumph. They’ve captured Camelot and converted it to be within the evil zone of control.
“We can’t be stopped,” Melchior says. “Just lay your neck down and I’ll make it quick. Of course if you’re bound here, I’ll see you soon to do it again.”
I hear the Hill Giants give a filthy chuckle and I glance to Asterix and Oliver who look terrified. I don’t know what happens if they die before they set up their new shops in Silver Drift. I whisper the question to Blodeuwedd who says, “They die. They need to establish their new places to be able to respawn there.”
“It’s true,” Asterix says, tugging at his green beard. Oliver shuffles round.
“Blodeuwedd, take these two to the East Gate. Meet up with the troops there and get them out of the city.”
I see Oliver’s eyes darting around looking for a way around the Hill Giants and Melchior. I look at Melchior, he’s huge in his black armour. I don’t know what level he is, but he’s going to be a higher level than me. I saw him kill Mercurius, so I don’t fancy my chances.
“Let these two go,” I say. “Then you and me in single combat.”
“I don’t think so. I think we’ll just kill you all.”
Oliver’s gulp is so loud I think he might choke. The dwarf is more stoical. Blodeuwedd flaps over to land on a building behind the giants. “This way,” she says. “It’s easy.”
“Yes, if you can fly,” Oliver says, but the giants’ turning has caused a distraction and I seize my chance. I kick my heels into Spirit and he explodes forward. My lance is in my hand and I hit the first giant in the side, killing him instantly. Normally, I would draw my sword, but I want another go with the lance so instead of pressing the attack, I pull back on Spirit and the horse rears and turns and we go back the way we came from.
The giants being stupid run after me and that gives my NPCs the opportunity to sprint through the gap. I turn to see Blodeuwedd leading them in the direction of the East Gate. Melchior is screaming at the giants, but they still follow me. There are three of them left. I turn again and though it’s only a short distance, I still manage to get speed up and hit the next one hard. It’s in the front so I don’t crit and only do 650 damage. I can’t pull back now, so it’s time for the sword. I’ve got a 20% crit chance so when I hit, I’m lucky and I crit with the sword for 200.
He swings and beats my dodge to hit, but he’s only got 2500 damage and I’m sitting with 3400 armour. That means even if I turn my back he’s not going to damage me, so I get Spirit to gallop, then turn in a small square outside Oliver’s shop. I set the lance again and that’s another down. The fourth giant turns and runs and I kill it just because it’s one less of them to harm my people.
Then Melchior stands in front of me axe in hand. He didn’t run. “Just you and me now then. Single combat’s what you wanted isn’t it?”
If he expects a chat, he’s not getting it. I spur Spirit and hit him hard in his chest. I don’t crit but still do 250 damage.
He hits me back.
His ordinary weapons can’t get through, but the unholy damage on his axe can. And I have 50% Unholy Damage reduction from the Vanadium in my armour, so he would have done 400 otherwise.
I sip the Health 120 potion and that reminds me to sip the Damage 100 potion that Bernard gave me.
I slash him with my sword but I can’t cause damage against his armour. It’s going to h
ave to be the lance again. I turn Spirit and he hits me in the back.
Furthermore, one more hit and I’m a goner. I urge Spirit further and because he’s on foot, we’re faster. I just need to buy time for the health potion to come off cool-down. I get further into the city and scatter a troop of Dwemmers, before turning, sipping my way back to 290 and charging at Melchior who’s running after me. I pray he doesn’t get a crit and I do.
I lean low, lance under my arm. Spirit’s snorting with exertion, his hooves slamming into the metalled roadway, sparks flying from his iron shoes. My concentration it total. I hit Melchior full on and my prayers are answered. I get a crit for 1600. Not many players can survive that, but he does. Still, he’s reeling back, reaching for his Health potion. I sip mine again back up to 410. That feels better, not that I’ll survive a crit. No point drawing my sword, so I nudge Spirit with my knees and we go past him and are on the road to the East Gate.
Melchior yells, “Come back here, you coward! Just like one of Arthur’s knights to run like a scared dog.”
He might think I’m fleeing but I’m not. We gallop along the road until we get out of the gate and into the destroyed countryside. Then I pull up, sip health again and wait. I know he’s coming after me.
I’ve done him a good amount of damage, even with the two sips of health he might have got in, he’s nowhere near full. He emerges from the East Gate and looks surprised to see me waiting. He grunts and hefts his axe, face twisting in rage. Spirit paws the ground. My lance is ready.
I just have to pray for another crit. If I don’t get it with this charge, he’s probably got me.
He’s running towards me and I nudge Spirit with my spurs and we go forward. Then I hear a voice. “Hey, Gorrow!”
I glance up. Bernard’s on the battlements, picking his way among the destruction. “I heard you came back to Camelot. I came back to look for you.”
I can’t afford to talk to Bernard now, but Melchior half turns to see who it is and whether he’s a threat. That half turn is all I need. I guide Spirit slightly left and then turn and cross the last ten yards at full pelt, driving my lance into Melchior’s flank for an auto-crit.
