“Man, I really hate this darkness,” one of them said to the person next to him. “Did you notice it was daylight when we walked into this black wall?”
“Yeah.” His comrade grinned cheerfully. “It reminds me those epic fantasy movies. Like we’re marching through a cursed forest or something. I’m half expecting skeletons to rise up and attack us and the gnarled tree roots to flail at us.”
“That’s not funny,” his friend retorted, nervously studying their surroundings. “This is a cursed forest. Didn’t you notice the debuffs? Minus 30 percent to XP gain and minus 75 percent to HP & MP recovery. That’s crazy!”
“You’re too stressed.” His friend shrugged. “This is a low-level zone; it makes sense they’d balance it out somehow. The penalties suck but you can’t expect much XP from goblins anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. We’ll destroy the clan like the Manapulators asked and then boom! We’re set for life. Easy peasy.”
The group continued walking without a clear formulation. Some players jogged ahead, some walked slowly, engaged in conversation like they were walking through a park. A few others even stopped to collect interesting herbs. They remained within shouting distance from each other, though. As a being of shadow hiding within shadows, I was nearly invisible, and I was able to take an exact count. There were 78 of them.
“Shadow-crap,” I muttered softly. Now what do I do?
I searched intently, trying to spot any exploitable weakness. Despite their disorderly manner, they were all armed and well armored. I spotted at least 20 tanks and ten healers. The others were a variety of combat classes, too diverse to categorize exactly. That was a good sign; it meant the group’s erratic composition would hinder them in a large-scale fight. They were not built to be an effective fighting force, and some of their techniques would no doubt contradict or even hurt each other. But I couldn’t rely on their inefficiency. They still outnumbered us. Their levels were between 16 to 25 with two individuals nearing 30.
As I swept my gaze over them, one of the highest-level players stood out. He was one of those untyped players, wearing cyan robes and had a rapier buckled at his waist.
That’s Tal’s spy, TheMarxman! I realized. He was walking alone, frowning, and did not engage in any of the conversations around him.
Now that I had him in sight, I could contact him. I accessed the message system and selected TheMarxman as the recipient.
[Me: Welcome to our jungle. I see you’ve brought some friends with you.]
[TheMarxman: Is that you, Oren? The sender is only listed as ‘Dread Totem.’]
[Me: Yeah. We need to talk in person. Break away from the group, to your left.]
TheMarxman slowed his walk, letting the other players pass him by, then got off the path toward my location.
I came out behind the tree to meet him.
“Holy crap!” he exclaimed, jumping back. “Tal said you were a goblin, but he didn’t mention you’re only a shadow! Where’s the rest of you?”
I chuckled, my hollow voice sounding like a flat echo. “Not far. Why is your group larger than reported? Did you betray us?” I spat out the last question with an ominous tone, feeling the goblin’s racial hate flaring up. If there was something I’d learned during my time here, it was that travelers couldn’t be trusted.
TheMarxman took a step back, his face becoming concerned. “No, my friend, I did not. I told Tal everything I knew when they recruited us. It was only when we started to march that we learned the Manapulators had created two separate groups for each wave. The second wave will likely also have double the expected people, so 20 instead of ten. I tried to contact Tal so he could warn you, but he’s not answering his messages. I even called him IRL, but he didn’t pick up.” He eyed me seriously. “Something about this whole thing doesn’t feel right. Now that I’ve found you and told you everything, I consider my debt to Tal paid. I’ll leave you to handle the rest.”
“Not just yet,” I said evenly, his explanation soothing my temper. “I need your help.”
“I’m a decent fighter, but I’m only level 20,” he said. “So I can’t take on those guys. Some of them are real psychos. If they learned I double-crossed them, they’d hunt down my character.”
“You’re level 28,” I corrected him, enjoying the surprised expression on his face. “You’ve maxed out your rapier fighting skill, and your robes offer more protection than most of those rif-rafs’ metal armor.”
“How did you –”
I cut him off. “However, you don’t have to fight. I just need you to help me even up odds. Since you’re obviously an above-average player, I’m sure you’ll have no problem luring 20 players to an ambush.”
He scratched his head. “I can do that.” After a pause, he said, “I never thought I would be working with a goblin to ambush players. This is a refreshingly new experience.”
I scrunched my nose. “Not for me. So, can you do this?”
“I can.”
“Your main group will reach a moss-covered boulder in about two minutes. Lead the players south of it. My forces will be waiting.”
“You got it, Chief.”
I swiftly issued orders. Bob, the travelers’ main force will reach the entrance wall within ten minutes. Take all the scouts back to the valley and station them on top of the wall. Take two healers and a unit of tanks with you also to block the entrance. The rest of the troops and I will lay an ambush for a small party of travelers and then come join you against their main force. We’ll hit them from both sides. Go, Go, Go!
TheMarxman offered me his hand. “I don’t know exactly what is going on, but from what I gathered from the Manapulators and the little Tal told me, I think I have a rough idea what you’re doing here. I wish you luck.”
I studied his face, searching for signs of betrayal or dishonesty, but found none. I took his hand in my shadowy one, my fingers sinking a few millimeters into his palm as we shook.
“Thank you,” I said in my whispery voice, then recalled my consciousness back to my real body, leaving the player gripping a quickly dispersing cloud of darkness.
I blinked and got to my feet, looking at the 30-something remaining troops. With my strongest forces present – the bosses and the Ogres – we should be able to handle 20 players with little to no casualties. Hopefully.
The players will be here any moment! I projected urgently to my troops. Lieutenants, take your groups and hide behind those trees. Rhyno, take your Ogres farther away so they won’t be detected. Get ready!
The last Ogre had just disappeared behind the thick trees when Yulli whispered hoarsely, “They’re coming!”
The players filtered through the trees in twos and threes. Walking between them was TheMarxman, easily chatting up a couple of grim-faced knights. “I’m telling you, my Treasure Sense skill is tingling like crazy; there’s something valuable nearby.”
I knew for a fact he did not have such a skill. But it seemed that his Persuasion skill was working overtime.
“We’ll miss out on the big event,” one of his escorts protested.
“Nah, let them take the brunt of the combat. We’ll find whatever treasure is hidden here, then join the main group for the mop up.” He raised his voice. “Just be careful, when my skill tingles like that, it usually means there are guardians in place.”
I froze then gritted my teeth. The bastard was playing both sides!
A system message hit me a second later.
[TheMarxman: In case you heard that, I’m just making sure I’ll have a way to explain the ambush so they won’t come gunning after me later, claiming I led them to their deaths]
I could understand that.
It didn’t matter anyway. The sixth player who came into view was a ranger type, and he spotted one of the poorly hidden tanks. “Ambush!” he cried.
“Too late buddy,” I said. Attack! Then I summoned my hounds.
My well-disciplined soldiers reacted as one. Twenty hobgoblin warriors streamed from around the tre
es, hitting the hastily raised shields, injuring many in the first round. My mastiffs and Tempest joined the fray, pouncing on the lightly armored casters. Kilpi bulldozed through two of their tanks and shield-pummeled another to the face, and Yulli started raining a stream of arrows from behind a tree. Each arrow was coated with a film of darkness, penetrating steel armor and cloth robes alike.
The attack was quick and merciless, and despite the warning, the players were caught off guard. Three of them were injured critically and I was quick to finish them off with my dagger, sacrificing them.
Immortal killed X3!
Boss Tier 3 Progression: 8/50 immortals killed.
But then the surprise wore off. Despite having no experience fighting as a unified force, they were still players, and they had their tricks. Three casters erected shining magical barriers around themselves, and several archers started sniping my soldiers. The rest of them activated a variety of skills and counterattacks, pushing my hobs back.
I cast Dark Protection over my soldiers, spending over 200 MP in the process, then redirected my dagger to slash at another badly wounded player, sacrificing him as well.
Bek and the other adept cast their healing spells as quickly as they could, bringing two hobs from the brink of death, but four other hobs fell to the mounting damage. Kuzai and his shadow clone stood facing three scared looking players and were bombarding them with scintillating balls of black and red energy.
The last of the players streamed in, and everyone was engaged in mortal combat.
Kilpi was holding back three players with his shield while three other hobs slashed at their backs. Yulli kept peppering the enemy with her darkly-blessed arrows, and my mastiffs, led by Tempest, were biting and snapping at every limb they could get. A few player tanks shouted their taunts, but none of my troops were lured away, much to their chagrin and my amusement. Instead, they fought back.
A wizard unleashed a fireball, taking away three hobs and one of the players. I cast Shadow Web on three archers, disabling them for the moment, then sent my dagger flying at another badly hurt player.
Immortal Killed!
Boss Tier 3 Progression: 10/50 immortals killed.
A few of the stronger, more experienced players grouped up and started to systematically hack my soldiers apart. Our initial attack destroyed their weaker forces, but just like smelting iron, the garbage was burned away and the high-quality material remained.
Rhyno, you’re up!
The Ogres, led by the gladiator, came charging in, trampling small trees. They rammed into the stronger players, who had just found their rhythm, and threw them out of sync and into the air. Rhyno launched one of his Stalker Pins at a halfling player who had just killed two soldiers on his own, literally nailing him to a tree trunk. My dagger was quick to finish the job. Then the champion bellowed a roar, sending waves of strengthening magic and energy to the troops. Invigorated, the hobs redoubled their attacks, felling the players one by one in rapid succession. Meanwhile, the Infernal Ogres, their maces coated with small flames, broke apart the last pockets of resistance.
One of the archers managed to escape the web and ran away screaming, but two of my hounds were fast on his heels, tripping him to the ground. A volley of drilling arrows, coupled with a slash from my dagger, finished him off as well.
Immortal Killed!
Boss Tier 3 Progression: 12/50 immortals killed.
Another hob fell to a wickedly executed Backstab skill by a player rogue, but he soon found himself impaled on a tree by my Infernal Ogre’s horn.
My troops mopped up the few remaining players, my dagger soaring between them, claiming more kills.
Then it was all over.
We had lost eight warriors in the attack, but it was a reasonable trade-off for defeating 20 higher-level players. TheMarxman was nowhere in sight.
My heart was pounding hard, my excitement mounting. We’d made it! Despite our losses, the force ratio had shifted in our favor – 60 versus 57 was better than 68 versus 78. I’d also sacrificed a dozen players, garnering FP and increasing my ‘immortal killed’ counter, but there was no time to waste.
“Let’s go,” I said, casting Heal Followers over everyone. “The main enemy force will arrive at the entrance before us. We must hurry.” There was no time to pick up the loot or void crystals, but on the upside, I noticed everyone had gained a level from the fight.
We burst out of the thick trees and onto the forest trail the players had left behind and started jogging in their wake.
Once I made sure the troops were all running in the right direction, I tapped Kuzai on the shoulder and teleported with him to the valley’s entrance.
Over 20 scouts and their lieutenants were already positioned on top of the wooden wall that bordered the entrance, their bows drawn. We had no gate, but Bob and five tanks stood there, blocking the opening with their shields raised. The two goblin healers stood further back.
“Take these.” I handed the healers two of my lesser Rods of Fire, and a handful of low-level void crystals. “When you’re not healing, use those against the enemy.”
I checked my mana. I’d spent nearly a third of my pool but had over 1,000 MP remaining, and my uncanny boss regeneration rate was already hard at work bringing it up to full.
I walked to the opening and stood beside Bob.
“I can hear them coming,” my lieutenant said, tension evident in his voice.
“We just dealt them a crippling blow,” I assured him. “There are 20 fewer enemies against us now. We just need to hold them off outside the valley for a little while until our main force … hey, what’s that smell?” A pleasant, yet oddly tinted odor wafted to my nose.
Bob sniffed a couple of times. “I don’t smell anything.”
The first players filtered into view behind the trees. The lieutenant in charge of the scouts issued orders and the scouts opened fire, sending a hail of arrows at them. The players took cover behind the trees and began preparing to launch their own ranged attacks.
I frowned. “Smell like lavender and –” My eyes opened wide with alarm. “– and sulfur.”
And for the second time this week, my world was filled with fire and destruction.
34 – First Wave
I rolled back to my feet, coughing and choking.
The walls on either side of the entrance were blazing, illuminating the darkness around us. Billows of smoke filled the air, and the intense heat scorched my skin.
“Dread Totem, are you alright?”
I felt strong hands lifting me and dragging me to cover behind a tree. A few arrows landed on the ground next to us. I looked up, taking in Bob’s worried expression. His armor was singed and he was bleeding from shrapnel. Looking around, I realized all the other tanks had taken damage too. I sent a healing wave of magic at them and coughed again. “Report”
“The wall is burning down. We’ve lost all the scouts! The enemy approaches!” he said urgently.
More arrows landed around us, some hitting the row of injured tanks who struggled to maintain their formation. A lightning bolt hit one and sent him flying backward, critically injured, but not dead.
I clenched my teeth in anger. The culprit had struck again and I was caught off guard. Again.
With a single act of sabotage, he had inflicted more damage than 20 players combined. I’d lost three lieutenants and all of the scouts that were posted on the wall. Their fire-resistant armor proved insufficient to the intensity of the flames. I was down to less than half the troops I’d started with, and my main force was still too far away to help!
I checked my health. I was standing close to the wall when it exploded. Luckily my Pyrolith scale armor was hardier than the scouts’ and resisted most of the fire damage, but the concussion force itself was strong enough to knock my health down by 200 points. Leaving me at 70 percent health.
I came out from behind the tree, activating my Mana Shield. “Hold the line!” I yelled to the tanks, who were being contin
uously struck with arrows and magic spells. I reached them just as another tank fell and took his place. A wave of healing energy came from behind as the two adepts did their best to keep the tanks’ health above zero.
A host of players was charging at us between the trees. Over 50 eager and uninjured players, all seeking to spill goblin blood. I cast Shadow Hound, bringing my mana below 1,000, and five level 18 mastiffs jumped out of the darkness and ran to intercept the eager players. Thanks to the previous fight, the spell had reached level 25, increasing the number of mastiffs.
However, that only bought us seconds. The charging players cut through the hounds. Some of their weapons were ineffective against the insubstantial beasts, but then spells and enchanted arrows landed, destroying them one by one.
I sent my dagger flying and ordered the tanks to throw the poison bombs Guba had given us. The grenades hit several players, the glue rooting them in place while the poison slowly eroded their health. I teleported a meter away to an open gap in our line, leaving my shield in place like a stationary bubble and activated another one. Then I did it again, blocking another gap. All the while my dagger was airborne, nicking and cutting.
These tactics could only buy us seconds. Their healers soon arrived at the front line, negating the poison and closing the wounds. They were only a couple dozen meters from us and closing fast. My tanks braced themselves, and the gaps in our line filled with my glimmering bubble shields.
Kuzai and his shadow stood behind our line, emitting a shrill, demented laugh while hurling scintillating balls of energy. The two goblin adepts kept on healing, but it was not enough to counteract the damage and the tanks’ health continued to dwindle. Another hob fell, and now only four remained.
Someone was clearly organizing the players. This was not the same undisciplined force we’d fought before. The first wave of players consisted only of tanks. They crashed against us, locking their shields with my troops’ while a row of archers and magic casters behind them bombarded us from afar. Five healers formed at their rear. Only a few attacked without regard to order or formation.
Life Reset- EvP Page 58
