by Brian Simons
A Level 34 was no match for Harold. He was a Level 54 Knight, after all. But noise from the scuffle would surely attract more mobs, and then Harold would have to defend Alua, Cedril, and Crum.
A wisp of yellow light breezed past Harold’s shoulder and flared in the zombie’s eyes. The monster turned to the side and shuffled away, seemingly unaware that three tasty humans were within biting range.
“Repel Undead,” Cedril explained.
“Well,” Harold said, “the swamp certainly brings out the best in you.”
They continued into the swamp, with Cedril occasionally turning zombies the other direction to prevent confrontation. Harold halted the group again when he saw not one, but five shadowy shapes ahead.
“Five more zombies. How much MP do you have left?” he asked Cedril, hoping he hadn’t used up all of his mana points on the spells he had cast so far.
“Not enough to repel all of them,” Cedril said.
Harold stepped forward carefully. The nearest zombie stood still as a statue. It should have noticed him by now. He crept forward some more, but still no response. He walked right past the thing and toward the next one, but still no reaction. It wasn’t until he reached the third zombie that anything happened.
That third zombie turned toward Harold and sprinted, quickly closing the six feet between them. Harold thrust his sword out and pierced the zombie’s torso.
>> Zombie takes 564 Damage.
Black ooze leaked out from what Harold assumed used to be a kidney. The zombie didn’t seem to mind. It kept running until the sword was hilt-deep in its body. It held its arms outstretched and grabbed Harold by the head. It started snapping its jaw and leaned its face in close to his.
Harold couldn’t push the zombie off his sword so he let the weapon go and lifted his shield against the zombie’s chest. He heaved with all of his strength to push the monster down to the ground. Harold’s sword sank into the soft wet ground beneath the zombie, pinning it to the swamp floor. Harold placed a foot on its chest to keep it from standing up as he pulled his sword out of the rotting corpse. He quickly sank the blade into the thing’s face.
>> Zombie takes 1,892 Damage. [CRITICAL]. Zombie dies. You receive 201 XP.
Despite all of that commotion, the other four zombies remained motionless, as if under some kind of spell. And then it clicked. The witch must be nearby. Harold sheathed his sword and pressed further, ignoring the frozen undead. He was going to find that witch and put a stop to this.
Not far ahead was a small windowless cottage. It was so dark against the black sky that Harold barely saw it until he was on top of it. He circled the cottage until he found a wooden door. With Alua, Cedril, and the ogre behind him, he knocked loudly.
A man with tight black pants and a white button down shirt opened the door. His shirt was streaked with red.
“Hello,” he said, then looked down at himself and laughed. “Oh, don’t mind the blood, it’s not mine. Are you here for tea? Because I’ll be honest, I don’t remember inviting you over.”
“We’re here,” Harold said, invoking his deepest most menacing growl, “about the zombies.”
“Sorry, they’re not for sale. Unless you think there’s a market for that? Hmm.”
“State your name,” Harold said.
“Galbrag. State your name!”
Harold gave the witch a hard look to be sure.
>> Galbrag. Level 56 Witch.
So, he was fairly strong. Hopefully he’d submit to arrest and they could all teleport out of this disgusting swamp.
“I am Sir Harold of Havenstock, and these are my servants, Alua and Cedril. Your necromancy is a crime against our kingdom for which you shall be tried. Will you come willingly?”
“Oh,” Galbrag said, “so this isn’t a social call at all. That’s disappointing. I never get company these days.” He went to close the door but Harold held a hand out to block it.
“Sir Harold,” Galbrag said, “this swamp is outside your jurisdiction. That makes you a trespasser. Go away.” Harold drew his sword. Galbrag’s eyes turned black.
A booming sound echoed in Harold’s ears. When he opened his eyes, he was on his back ten feet from Galbrag’s door. Alua, Cedril, and Crum were on the ground nearby. The witch had blasted them with some dark spell.
“Zombies, attack!” Galbrag yelled. As Harold got to his feet he saw two of the nearby zombies sprint toward him. A third one sat down cross-legged on the ground. A fourth tried to climb a spindly swamp tree, which quickly snapped under the monster’s weight.
“See, now that’s the problem,” Galbrag said, “I still don’t know how to control these infernal things.”
Alua was helping the ogre stand up and putting a dagger in his hand. That’s the last thing Harold needed, an armed ogre to deal with on top of all this. Cedril’s staff was already starting to glow. Harold would leave the zombies to them. His quarry was Galbrag.
Galbrag’s fingers moved in front of him like a conductor without a baton. Harold charged at the witch as ice fell from the sky, first in small pellets, then oblong chunks, and then large spikes of ice with sharp points. He was hit with ice before he reached the witch.
>> You’ve been hit! 375 Damage.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Harold asked as he prepared to pierce through Galbrag’s bloody red shirt with his longsword. He stabbed his sword and hit hard — right into the side of Galbrag’s cottage. His sword lodged there, sticking out from the wooden wall like a dart on a dartboard.
>> Miss!
“I wasn’t where you thought I was,” Galbrag said, grinning. “Illusions like that work especially well on those with low intelligence.”
As a Knight, Harold prided himself on his high strength. What did he need intelligence for? He wasn’t casting spells. Harold pulled his sword free and activated Home Strike. His MP would gradually drain, but his accuracy would greatly improve. No more misses. Galbrag would only get away with that illusion once.
He approached Galbrag and swung his sword. In a split second he saw Galbrag vanish. It had been another illusion. Home Strike kicked in, spinning Harold around involuntarily and arcing his sword wildly trying to put him on track to hit his intended target. His sword sliced into Galbrag’s leg.
>> Galbrag takes 42 Damage. [GLANCING BLOW]
It wasn’t the best hit, but it proved that Galbrag couldn’t evade him anymore. The witch had real shock on his face. Inches from Harold after the attack, he held his palm up and planted it on Harold’s face. Harold stumbled back, wishing for once that he had worn the helmet that went along with his armor.
>> Debuff added: Slow.
>> Debuff added: Dispirited.
>> Debuff added: XP Drain.
Three debuffs at once? This witch was good. Harold turned his head back toward Cedril and Alua. All of his movements were sluggish, so it took a while to turn his head all the way. He wanted to yell for some assistance but Alua and Cedril still had their hands full fighting zombies. The ogre was glowing, which meant Alua must have wasted her MP casting Holy Shield on that cretin instead of on Harold. Cedril was fending off zombies with some kind of white light, and the ogre kept slashing at zombies with one of Alua’s daggers but missing. That sorry lot wouldn’t be any help with Galbrag. Harold would have to do this one himself.
He lifted his sword to slash again at Galbrag, but the witch had darted several feet away. Galbrag had a hand in the air now, summoning a torrential rain from the clouds. It was a focused beam of water, and it moved closer to Harold. Harold already felt like he was running under water, and now he really would be. The waterfall positioned itself over his head and tracked his movement.
It was hard to see through the rushing water, and hard to breathe. Maybe Galbrag was trying to drown him? Then Harold saw Galbrag conjure a gleaming pole of ice in his hand. It was glacial blue. He was going to freeze the waterfall and Harold along with it. With a Dispirited debuff greatly reducing his resistance to magic attacks, that migh
t be enough to kill him. He’d need to think fast.
Harold dove toward Galbrag and landed at his feet. The torrent of water came with him. He activated Firebrand and raised his sword above his head. The blade’s endless burning heat turned Galbrag’s water torrent into scorching steam that burst upward into Galbrag’s face. He dropped his icy pole and fell to his knees.
>> Galbrag takes 1349 Damage.
The witch looked up at Harold and glared at him. He conjured an orb of blue light in his hand and threw it at Harold. Harold barely had time to lift his sword, but he was able to block the magic attack with it. Then he realized that the XP Drain debuff he had incurred was still at work.
>> Congratulations! You have reached Level 53. You have no skill points available.
Dammit! He was at Level 54 before this all started. Now his Strength, Defense, HP — everything would be lower, permanently, at least until he leveled back up. He checked his stats to see how much XP he had lost.
Name:
Harold
Gender:
Male
Race:
Human
Class:
Knight
Level:
54
Diplomacy:
21
Constitution:
81
Dexterity:
56
Defense:
76
Intelligence:
30
Strength:
90
Spirit:
41
HP:
1620
Stamina:
270
MP:
82
Skill Points Available:
0
XP:
151,498
XP to Next Level:
192
Just like that, 2,000 XP were gone. But that seemed to be the extent of it. The debuff wore off after subtracting a flat number of experience points. He could also feel his movements speeding back up to normal. He looked up at Galbrag, still on his knees, and saw him pop open a small vial. Oh no, Harold was definitely not going to let this witch replenish his MP. He stabbed his sword right into Galbrag’s knee. The magician screamed in pain and dropped the vial onto the ground.
>> Galbrag takes 239 Damage. [Injured]
This brought his HP gage even closer to empty. “It’s over, Galbrag,” Harold said. “You’re out of MP, you can’t run, and if you don’t come with me I’m going to kill you and leave your corpse to rot here in the swamp.”
“Perhaps,” Galbrag said, “we could make a deal instead.”
Harold gave that some thought. All he really needed to do was stop the witch from sending zombies into town. If he extracted some extra benefit, who would that hurt? Besides, with how paltry the reward was for this quest, the King was practically forcing him to squeeze something worthwhile out of this godsforsaken trip.
Harold looked back. Alua and Cedril had vanquished one zombie, but not the other. The ogre had lost its glow and was lying on the ground. Maybe it was dead. Oh well.
“Let’s talk inside,” Harold said, knowing that Alua and Cedril would be distracted for a while. “But if you try anything, I will end you.”
The witch limped toward the front door and let them both in. He bolted the door closed behind him and put on a pair of glasses. “Hmm,” he said.
“What?” Harold asked.
“Your soul. It’s yucky.” He took the glasses back off. “Trust me, I’m a swamp witch with zombies for friends. I know yucky when I see it.”
Harold rolled his eyes. “If I let you live, witch, there will be conditions. First, no more zombies in Havenstock. I have to tell the King that I put a stop to that.”
“Scout’s honor,” Galbrag said.
“And you will owe me. I will call on you one day for assistance and you will provide it.”
“Ok, one wish, understood.”
“And I will not leave here empty handed.”
“So,” Galbrag said, “a bribe then? I can do that.” His knee was still bleeding through his black pants. “How’s this?” He held up a small vial of black liquid. “Most zombies are conjured from the dead, which is why they look so gruesome. This potion here can turn someone into a zombie, essentially killing them and then reanimating them at the same time. I was planning to use it one day, but I may never get the hang of controlling the undead. It’s the most valuable potion I own.
Harold thought about the possibilities. He could use this on the King and get the monarch out of the way. They would have to depose him if he were undead. But he needed the King to name Harold as his successor first... The details could be worked out later.
“Fine,” Harold said, swiping the potion out of the witch’s hands and adding it to his inventory. Then something else caught his eye. It was a small vial of bright blue liquid. It was radiant. “What’s this?”
“That, dear Harold is a love potion. Please don’t get any ideas. I have enough suitors as it is.”
“How long do the effects last?”
“It’s a love potion, it doesn’t expire. Otherwise it would be more of an infatuation potion, and what good is that?”
“I want two energy potions to replenish my servants’ MP, and this love potion. Then we have a deal.”
Galbrag sneered. Maybe he thought Harold was asking too much, but he must know that all Harold needed to do was decapitate him. Then he could ransack this cottage and take every potion in it.
“We have a deal,” Galbrag said.
Quest Complete: Undead End
You successfully persuaded the swamp witch to stop raising the dead! See King Frederic for your reward.
Reward: 500 XP
Harold took his potions and headed toward the door. Before he opened it, he took one dark blue vial of MP potion and poured half of it onto the floor. He poured the contents of the brighter blue love potion into the half-empty bottle and re-corked it.
***
“I don’t care what Harold said, you have to heal him,” Alua said to Cedril. Harold had disappeared into the witch’s house and left the rest of them to finish off the last zombie attacker. Grum was on the ground with precious little HP left, and she wasn’t going to let him die. Harold might not think much of an ogre’s life, but she did. And she knew King Frederic did too.
Cedril used the rest of his MP bringing the ogre back to relative health. He was still ill and weak, but at least he could stand now.
“The nerve of that Knight,” Alua muttered, “What is he doing in there? I don’t trust it. I have a good mind to tell the King that some illicit deal is going on in there. Add that to how rude he was to the ogres, and how awful he has treated us. He’ll have his knighthood revoked. I can’t look the other way. Will you back me up?” She tried to calm herself down. The warm glow of her tattoos warned that anger was starting to consume her. All that would do is block the gods from speaking clearly to her. She took in a long breath and exhaled it slowly.
“Let’s get back to Havenstock first, then we can talk about what to do next,” Cedril wiped swamp mud off his hands and onto his robe. That poor robe would never be white again. It was smeared with mud, ogre blood, and zombie juices.
“The most important issue is how rude he was to Prince Ploth. The King has worked so hard to build bridges to the other kingdoms. The ogres never did anything to Harold,” Alua said.
“No, they haven’t done anything bad, yet. All it will take is one incident involving an ogre to shift everyone’s perspectives. People are guarded. All of this immigration, it’s still a new experiment for Havenstock.”
“Are you taking his side, Cedril?”
“Of course not,” Cedril said. Just then the door to Galbrag’s cottage opened.
They struck a deal I don’t like, Thanaker said to Alua alone. Get out of there.
Why? she asked, because no one died here? The King ordered us to stop the zombie attacks and I have to see this through.
On the contr
ary, Thanaker said, the balance of death is tipping in the wrong direction.
Alua ignored the god and walked toward the cottage door. Harold emerged with Galbrag close behind.
“Your vest is torn,” the witch said to Alua, walking right up to her. “That’s a shame, it’s a nice one. What is that, basilisk skin? I can mend it for you if you like. I used to be quite the Tailor a few class changes ago.” As he fiddled with a small tear in her vest, he leaned in close. “Clarify your mind when you get home. He’s a wicked one.”
Why was everyone trying to play mind games with her today?
“We don’t have time for that,” Harold said, pushing Galbrag to the side and handing Alua and Cedril each a small vial. “We’ve reached an agreement. There will be no more zombie incursions. The witch has provided us energy potions to restore your MP before we travel home.”
