Shari hadn’t been kidding. They offered him everything under the sun. Fetch quests, kill quests, even a dreaded escort quest. He accepted them all, not having the heart to turn any of them down. As he followed an elderly lady dwarf out to the woods behind her home to chop some firewood for her, he mumbled to himself. “Yer a big ol’ softy, Griffy me boy.”.
“Eh? What was that?” Maggie, the dwarfess asked loudly?. “Speak up, lad! Ain’t polite to mumble, ye know!” She whacked his shoulder with her walking stick for emphasis before continuing on her way. Griff rolled his eyes and followed.
As they left the perimeter of the village and began to cross a wide meadow on their way to the tree line, Maggie pointed with that same stick. “See them bunnies there? Don’t mess with ‘em. They may look soft ‘n fluffy, and they be fine so long as ye leave ‘em be. But anger one of ‘em and ye’ll be sorry. There be a legend of a fine, upstandin’ dwarf who attacked a fuzzy bunny. Its whole clan came a-runnin when it called and the dwarf got ‘is arse well ‘n truly handed to ‘im!”
She rubbed her own backside as if in sympathy for the legendary dwarf’s pain.
Griff snorted in disbelief, but chose not to argue with the oldster. He was carrying an axe she’d handed to him when he’d accepted the quest. No fuzzy bunny was a threat to a strong dwarf with an axe!
*****
Mace and Shari logged in at the same time, right after arranging for Griff’s entry into the game. Though they couldn’t convince the game’s controlling AI to start Griff at Lakeside, due to its higher level and the fact that the code designated starter zones by race, but they had managed to put him in the nearest starter zone for dwarves, his chosen race. The village was located in the foothills of the mountain range to the north. They’d agreed to give him time to level up a bit while they took care of business in the settlement, then travel to meet him. Shari messaged him to check in as soon as she logged in, and he grumbled about doing some escort quest. When she shared that with Mace, he chuckled.
As they emerged from the inn, there was a bit of a commotion near the gate. As they joined the small crowd gathered there, Mace noted Charles talking to Captain Jorin, whose ship was back at anchor at the dock. The two captains were talking animatedly. When Jorin caught sight of Mace, he motioned him closer.
“Mace. Glad you have returned. I have news for you.” His face looked grim, his tone dark. “We were on our way south to Port Bjorstrum when we encountered another ship heading north. I recognized her, a merchant ship called the Misfortune. A bad joke by her captain, who is also known to me. I hailed them as they approached, and she hove to in order to share greetings and news, as is customary. He was polite enough, but seemed nervous.” Jorin paused and looked to Charles and Shari as well.
“I noticed that his eyes kept finding a group of men lounging on the aft deck. They were dressed as common merchants, but two of them wore pendants bearing the sigil of the Black Flame.” He began to nod as he saw Mace make the connection.
“The slavers. Did they say where they were headed?” Mace growled.
“I did not speak to them, but the captain confirmed that they were headed north of us. Most likely to your new stronghold to pick up what they expect to be a full shipment of slaves.” Jorin took a breath. “I turned about as soon as they were out of sight and came straight here to alert you.”
Charles asked “How long till they arrive at the stronghold? Three of the minotaurs and two of my guards were headed there yesterday to retrieve more iron.”
Jorin’s face fell. “They will likely have landed already. I do not know how far it is to the stronghold from the landing point.”
“Damn!” Charles cursed. “It is a full day’s march from here. They’ll be dead before we can help them.”
“Not for me,” Mace said. “I can be there in half a day. And the minotaurs are no pushovers. If they fight in one of the tunnels, it may be that they can hold out for a while.” He looked at Shari. “Get the centaurs to send as many archers as they can. They can move swiftly. Have them wait outside and kill anyone who leaves the stronghold that isn’t one of us.” Shari nodded and took off toward the nearest centaur.
Looking at Jorin, he asked, “Can you sail Shari and some of the guards on the Sea Sprite to prevent that ship from leaving, in case I’m too late? We can not let word of the loss of the stronghold to get back to the Black Flame’s leaders.”
Jorin gave him a slight nod. “I’ll need no guards, though Shari and your friends are welcome to join me. I’ll sink the Misfortune if need be, but I don’t think that will be required. Her captain was not happy to have those men aboard; I doubt it will be difficult to secure his silence and convince him to leave. I’ll tell him his passengers ran afoul of rabid bunnies.” The captain grinned at Mace before heading back to his ship, shouting orders to his sailors.
Wasting no time, Mace took off toward the forest. Reaching the tree line north of the settlement, he climbed the first good-sized tree he found and began running from branch to branch.
Shari hurriedly explained to the centaur what was going on and relayed Mace’s request that they send some archers. The centaur took a horn from his bag and blew two short notes. Almost immediately, others came trotting toward them from every direction. None seemed hostile, so it must have been some kind of call to gather.
When Barlon arrived, Shari repeated her request to the centaur’s leader. He simply nodded his head and raised a hand. “I need ten volunteers to run north.”
Immediately, every centaur in sight raised a hand to volunteer. Shari felt a warm glow in her chest as she watched Barlon choose his ten. “Take extra quivers. There could be as many as fifty enemies at the stronghold.”
Shari left the centaurs to their mission and headed back toward the gate. She found Layne and Lila already there, speaking with Charles. “Ten centaurs will be leaving momentarily,” she reported.
“Very good, thank you Shari. Captain Jorin will take you and your friends north to deal with the other ship, and to meet up with Mace if there’s time.” the big ogre captain explained. He motioned them toward the nearby dock and followed behind as they walked in that direction. The sailors had already prepared to cast off, doing so as soon as the group was aboard. Charles waved and called out “Good luck!”
*****
Mace reached Darkstone Loch an hour or so before sunset. He approached carefully when he saw the forest give way to the clearing that surrounded the entrance. Just as before, he approached in stealth, moving from boulder to boulder and pausing to watch and listen.
There were no sounds of battle, which either meant that he was too late and his allies were dead, or that he had arrived before the slavers. Or that there was some sort of stalemate going on inside.
Reaching the mine entrance, he felt Minx leave his shoulder. She returned a moment later, wrapping her still-invisible self around his neck. “Tunnel clear,” was all she said. Mace reached up to pet her briefly.
“Thank you, my dear.” He whispered before entering the tunnel and moving to one side to take advantage of the shadows there. He proceeded along until he hit the fork in the tunnel. Deciding to take the right-hand fork, as that was where the remaining iron rails were located, he moved quickly but quietly. A minute or so later, he began to hear grunting noises and the clang of metal on metal. Drawing his daggers, he rushed the final distance to the chamber where the slave pens had been.
When he saw what was going on, he let out the breath he’d been holding, and was glad that he was still in stealth mode. Otherwise he would have looked a little foolish charging in on his allies. They, thankfully, hadn’t noticed him, as they were loading iron rails onto the wagon they’d brought along. The sound of the rails banging together was what Mace had mistaken for battle noise.
Moving back to the entryway, he canceled his stealth ability and called out as he waved, “Greetings, Brahm! Everyone!”
The others turned their heads, the two guards reaching for their weapons
before recognizing him. Brahm set the load he was carrying onto the wagon bed and raised a hand in greeting.
“Mace! I didn’t expect to see you here.” He looked from the drow to the wagon’s cargo. “Did you change your mind about us using your iron?”
“No, no, of course not. You are welcome to all you can carry. I’m here because our friendly boat captain spotted a crew of Black Flame slavers on another boat bound in this direction. We were worried they’d find you here and capture or kill you all.”
Brahm’s deep-throated growl echoed off of the chamber walls and ceiling. He pulled an impressively-sized battle axe from his back and stepped toward the exit. “Let them come! We will remove their heads and send them back to their people in barrels of kobold shit!”
Mace grinned at his new friend. “I like your style, Brahm. And yes, I plan to kill every stinking one of them. We have reinforcements on the way. A crew of centaur archers should be an hour or so behind me. And Jorin will bring his ship to cut them off in case any manage to escape.”
The minotaurs and their guards all grunted or voiced their agreement with the plan, and Mace called them together to form a strategy. With the size of the enemy force unknown, he needed to alter their environment in order to force the enemy to fight in tight spaces where their numbers wouldn’t matter.
Walking his small force out into the corridor, he said “Wait a moment.” Turning back to the chamber entrance, he held his hands in front of him just slightly separated, and uttered the spell trigger word:
“Frigus!”.
Ice began to form between his hands. He motioned toward the end of the tunnel, and spread his hands wider as the ice began to form on the walls to either side. He channeled the spell until there was only a small opening, about three feet in diameter, in the ice. This would be their final choke point. The place where, if things weren’t going well, they would make their last stand.
Leading the group back toward the stronghold’s entrance, he stopped about halfway to create another choke point. Brahm nodded in understanding.
“This is good. Another of the same at the entrance and we’ll have no problem whittling them down. They’ll pay in gallons of blood for each doorway they breach!”
Mace had them hold in place as he finished working his magic. His drow hearing had picked up something from outside. Dashing for the exit, he hissed, “Hurry! I think they’re approaching now!”
He left his companions far behind as he dashed for the exit. While tall and powerful, minotaurs did not have the speed of a drow. He slowed just short of the doorway, melding once again into the shadows. The enemy was not in sight, but he could hear voices. Still a bit distant, but growing closer. He quickly cast his spell again, “Frigus!” and closed off most of the entrance, this time leaving a space about five feet wide.
He held up a hand as his companions caught up. Holding a finger to his lips, he called for silence. They obliged as much as they were able, but their armor and hooves were unfortunately not conducive to silence. When they were gathered close, they too could hear the voices approaching. Mace watched as they each equipped shields and weapons. The two guards had standard shields and short swords. The minotaurs with their greater strength held tower shields that stood a full six feet high. Each of them gripped a spear in their other hand. The long weapons would be perfect for holding a choke point. Two minotaurs with shields joined could block the entire entrance while massacring the enemy with their long spears. If necessary, the other minotaur and the guards could rotate in to keep them all reasonably rested.
Mace handed Brahm a horn he had previously looted. “Stay here and hold this position. Fall back to the next one if you need to. I’m going out to scout the enemy. And remember, the centaurs are coming. You need only hold them long enough for our allies to hit them from behind with those tent poles they call arrows.” He grinned as Brahm snorted in amusement.
“Do not worry. We have food, water, and weapons. We could hold this position for a week, if the cowards do not employ magic,” Brahm assured him. The others grunted in agreement once again. Not the most talkative bunch.
The sun was just dropping behind the trees, giving Mace plenty of shadow to work within. He trotted in the direction of the approaching group, confident in his ability to remain unseen. He’d gone less than a mile when he spotted them.
A motley column of fighters wound its way up a faint trail that led past Mace toward the stronghold. He leaned against the trunk of a large oak tree, making a quick count. Forty warriors with varying types of armor and weapons. Three looked to be tanks, wearing full plate and carrying shields. They were all human, but their comrades were a mix of humans, grey dwarves, orcs, goblins, and one troll that stood half again as tall as any of the others. They wore a mixture of leather and chain, with some carrying long swords or spears, and others who were obviously rogue types carrying twin swords or daggers.
The column followed a drow male in expensive looking scale armor. He wore the black flame crest on his shoulder above his heart, as did all the others. Except the troll, who was bare-chested. The drow carried a rapier at his waist, with a poniard in a sheath on the other side. A fencer. Which likely meant the drow was a nobleman of some kind. Not that it mattered to Mace. He would be the first to die.
Mace listened as the drow spoke to an overgrown orc walking at his side. “Be wary, Rogash. We were expected, and their scouts should have met us by now.”
Rogash snorted in disgust. “Probably drank themselves to sleep. Or they’re amusing themselves with a few of the female slaves.”
The drow nodded. “Let us hope that is all it is. Still, keep an eye out. And weapons ready.”
The orc turned to his men, making a quick motion with his hand. Almost as one, the warriors in the column drew weapons.
So, not amateurs. This makes things a bit more interesting. A trained fighting force. But have they trained together? Will they break when I kill the drow and the orc? Mace thought to himself.
He quickly opened up his chat window and sent Shari a message. “Have you guys reached their boat yet? What’s the status?”
Shari responded almost immediately. Mace had his chat set to ‘voice,’ so he could hear her message as though she were beside him. “We’re here. Got here about four hours ago. They barely put up a fight. The slavers only left three guys to make sure the captain didn’t sail off without them. As soon as we appeared and got close, the other captain’s crew killed the three slavers and tossed them overboard. He’s on his way back to Lakeside now. He’s going to sell all the slaver’s supplies to Charles at a steep discount.”
Mace had to stop himself from laughing out loud and exposing his position. “Awesome. Just hang tight there. I don’t think we’ll need you. They’re almost to the stronghold now. There are only forty of them. Led by a drow pretty-boy noble. I’m about to slit his throat and throw them into a panic to buy time for the centaurs to arrive.”
He sent the message and closed his chat. It was time to kill people.
*****
Griff sat on the edge of the fountain and pulled up his character screen. He’d had a full day of quest after quest. The sun was setting and it was nearly time for the feast that Campbell had mentioned that morning.
Griff was still amazed at the virtual world of Elysia. Everything felt, sounded, and smelled just like he was in the real world. He even got tired when he overdid it cutting firewood. Sweat ran into his eyes. He could feel the cool spray from the fountain on the back of his neck. He grew a bit melancholy as he thought about the amazingly talented people who created this wonder. And how they must all surely be gone now. What a waste.
Shaking it off, he looked again at his character screen. His UI helpfully projected it in the center of his visual field when he thought about pulling it up. There was an image of his avatar, the burly dwarf still wearing his starter clothes, and next to the image was the boxed stats sheet. The constant questing had brought him up to level four already.
> Character Name: Griff
Class: Warrior
Level: 4
Race: Dwarf
Spec:?
Exp 435/500
Health: 400/400
Mana: 100/100
Attribute Pts Avail: 3
Stamina: 10
Widom:10
Charisma: 10
Life Regen: 1/sec
Strength: 10
Intellect: 10
Dexterity: 10
Mana Regen: 1/sec
Agility: 10
Luck: 10
Armor: 5
Skill Pts Avail: 0
As with everyone else, the game started him off with ten attribute points in each category. He had earned three more points as he’d leveled up, one for each level. He wasn’t sure what skill points were useful for, but he made a mental note to ask Shari next time they spoke.
Shari had explained to him the basics of the game while they waited for Mace to get him in. When he’d asked which type of player would best compliment their group Mace hadn’t hesitated to say they needed a tank. Shari had overridden Mace and said, “Play whatever you think will be the most fun for you.”
He smiled, thinking about Shari. The lass had a kind heart. Griff had been shocked when she’d told him she had survived alone outside for nearly two months. He didn’t think he had what it would take to accomplish that himself.
Blinking rapidly, he returned his focus to the character screen made a decision. He knew from the old movies, books and games that dwarves had legendary strength. From watching the dwarves around him in the village, he could tell that it was the same here. Even the elder dwarfess looked as if she could snap a sapling in half with ease. So he added two of his three points to Strength.
Survivors Page 5
