South of Stonehurst, a mute purple flash tinted the night clouds for a tense heartbeat. Ambiguous’ Mass Teleportation brought the entirety of Rowan’s improved and far-larger air force into sieging range. Redwing too. The mist also tagged along.
These forests and mountains and two rivers nearby were a serene landscape at night. Aeon’s two moons, one milky and the other beige, shone onto a half-mile wide dome of light mana. Beneath, a small and typical castle-like structure was under construction, about a third or more completed. The shanty town was no more, not a single building standing other than the market.
Magically-aided construction. How impressive.
Just outside the shield, a gaping wide hole in the grass caught Rowan’s eye. He barely discerned piles of ashy grays and chunky white pieces. It was a mass grave—an incineration pit. They had burned all the corpses. The townsfolk were no more. Not even a Raise and Dark Conversion would bring them back now. Rowan almost felt shallow pity for the Dark Humans. Fortunate for them, they were were still mostly walking corpses, waiting for their second conversion.
A dialogue decorated with skulls and bones faded into view.
Quest Failure (Shared by Gabby LeMort): Parents
Nothing can bring them back.
“Damn.” Rowan shook his head and simply moved on while the elite Dark Humans whispered their grievances. He examined the shield.
Outpost Mana Shield (T7)
Shield Points: 4,000,000
Armor: Medium
Dark Resistance: High
Other Resistances (average): Medium
Buffs: None.
Four million shield points and only high dark resistance? Easy.
Before he could dish out an order, Ayla, a yard in the air on her dribbling Mana Shard, floated over and said, “Dorian just kicked me from the guild.”
Ambiguous hummed, rising pitch. “Guild storage. It has a log.”
“Obviously.” Ayla’s tongue clicked. “Well, I can clean up my friend list now.”
Rowan said, “Then it’s time to go before they all catch on.” He looked leftward. “Ult down the shield, then you can stay in the swarm’s protection.” Only Seth possessed this ultimate; he was the most powerful of the three by far.
The Nihil nodded without emotion. His wings flexed, and he soared high above. A complex, lyrical chant whispered into the night, each verse descending into deeper malice. It was deathly poetry. Flowers and destruction. Split the chains, and set it free. And light the heavens. Rowan could barely understand those bits and pieces with his limited vocabulary in the dark language.
After three verses, the first repeated slowly, and with each muttered word, Seth’s armor of frozen onyx flames increasingly thawed and pulsated with darkness. An orb of dark-light plasma, similar to the sphere Draesear had blew onto the Water Mages’ spire, grew at the tip of Seth’s blade.
The final word rang into the night: Annihilate.
Bullet-speed, the spinning orb shot at the shield. The collision was painting-worthy, color draining from the scene for a split-second before a blinding flash dyed the night sky white, fantasy-style nuclear warfare in all its glory. What a world this was.
The shield dipped down to 3% points remaining, cracked from the apex, and shattered into a billion sparks.
Rowan gave the silent order, pinging. The swarm unleash icy fury on the outpost, the nuke’s light still fading in the magical fallout. Redwing’s Mortar Shell punched through the unfinished castle’s half-bricked wall, and tainted ice detonated deep within. Icy Undead flooded into the outpost, slaughtered the feeble resistance and every last construction worker. It was over in seconds.
This double-layered distraction was pure brilliance, and the time had come to grant Ayla and the elite Dark Humans their rightful classes.
Rowan smirked. “Ayla. You need a willing and naked sacrifice. The rituals for Necro and DK are similar. You’ll be carving the dark language onto Ambiguous’ skin.”
“I know, creep. Gabby told me a long time ago.”
And I was hoping for a bitchy reaction
Ambiguous palmed her hip. "You, mister dark lord, will be staying outside. No peeking."
"Wouldn't dream of it." That wasn’t a lie either. All he wanted in life was neither of these two girls.
Chapter 30
To Cook a Tortured Squirrel
Ice Harpies spearing the charge, Rowan and co stormed into the tent encampment toward the battered castle and killed any who dared to fight and any who cowered. Either way made no difference. All these workers and few players offered little challenge, little fun. Where were the guards?
A low-level human worker, late-forties, flailed helplessly in the air, skewered through the abdomen on a Harpy’s blade. His groans ceased; the spark of life petered out from his pleading, wrinkled face. The Harpy tossed his corpse onto a growing pile further behind—for later.
Above, Drakes and Ice Dragonflies rained serrated ice onto the tents, and Redwing’s Mortar Shell hurtled toward the castle.
Next to Gabrielle’s smiling illusion, at Rowan’s left, a bloodied woman crawled through frozen dirt, a cloth bundle in her arms. She peeked over her shoulder, her eyes widening as Rowan’s hooded visage angled downward. She wheezed, “I beg you. Please spare m—”
Streaking mist, several Dragonflies buzzed past. Tainted Ice Bolts shredded into her body. Dead—a frozen corpse. A quick, generous end to answer her beg.
A mangled snarl choked from the right. Ayla. “Why would she come here with a baby? There’s plenty of magical nurseries… even in the slums.”
Oh. That’s what the bundle was. I thought it was just blankets or similar.
“Stupid,” Ambiguous mumbled from behind.
“Beats me,” Rowan said and glanced at Ayla, remembering a crucial yet small detail of the plan. And indeed, she had worn the spiky collar and attached leash, which Ambiguous had snagged off the market. “Pass me the leash.”
Her squirrel face twisted for a second and two before she relented. “You know how sick this is, right? And you have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I know.” He snatched the short leash, standing closer. “Unfortunately, I have a creepy image to maintain right now.” The rubber handle was warm and a touch slippery.
“Don’t get any pervy ideas.”
The tone of that quip sounded as though she were the one with the ideas, but he knew very well how girls talk about things behind guys’ backs. She was baiting him into a trap. Both Ambiguous and Ayla would undoubtedly tattle if he made any suggestive comments or worse, which he never would anyway. “This is the pervy idea, and remember to pretend you’re in pain if they see you.” Rowan bared teeth under the hood and resumed strolling forth.
Ayla coughed, “Fuck you.”
“No, thanks.”
Ambiguous’ mellow laugh mixed with the surrounding music of carnage, and Ayla looked away, arms crossed as she walked awkwardly. Rowan was careful to not yank on the leash—but couldn’t stop his arm from gently tugging. Time was short; the first group portals would be hitting soon. He tugged harder. He liked the feeling, having such intimate power over her neck.
Together they kept advancing along a line of tents, an ice blast aiding the swam here and there whenever a higher-level player appeared. Gargoyles tore down tents and gutted every last body. Harpies swooped in whenever a corpse hit the ground. Thoroughness was needed. Even one low-level character with a mid-level Runecrafting profession could set up another spawnpoint in minutes.
Like there, a high-level Mage stepped out of a tent. Rowan’s wand hand lifted, but Dragonflies already swooped in at Seth’s command. Rowan’s measly, in comparison, firepower really wasn’t needed. He redirected his focus onto his future elite, protective of them. They were valuable to Gabrielle. She’d give him a thorough lashing if they were to perish.
The dozen Dark Humans lingered at the outskirts, by the incineration pit, with their own escort led by Redwing. He had enough range on his mortar to k
eep a close watch on them from directly above, and Ambiguous’ wide-area Detection Ward—exclusive to Chaos Mystic—was more than enough to spot incoming hit-teams. She apparently hadn’t been paying attention to it during the naval battle. Either that or she hadn’t turned it on. A tad disappointing. But everyone makes mistakes.
The ground grew slicker with tainted ice as they reached the castle, and a Mortar Shell exploded against yet another golden-white dome within. The castle was more unfinished on the inside than out. It was hardly a building at all; the perimeter walls and four corner-towers had been erected first to give it a facade of completion. Flat barren soil stretched for a hundred meters on the inside, the crater from yesterday filled in. The Dark Temple’s entrance was crudely boarded-up.
Next to the temple towered a twelve-foot monolith, three large diamonds revolving around at its tip—the area shield generator revealed by an Examine dialogue. Against its base leaned an unsecured spawnstone, activated and glowing. And around the makeshift spawnpoint, in a ring, six Shield Generators fed the forty-meter dome high-resistance magic, two already spent.
As for the guards, there were none apart from a dozen high-level players and a handful of Divinely Blessed NPCs. Paltry as that. They’d been caught off-guard, caught with their Paladins off on a journey to save a damsel.
The frontline Ice Harpies met an onslaught of arrows and elemental spells the moment they glided into range. Their hardened shields cracked.
Ambiguous’ staff spun. A projectile-slowing zone-type skill dropped onto their defensive line, a dome overlapping the gold. Grayish purple lit their faces from above as arrows and spells slowed to a crawl. The Harpies dodged the slower missiles with ease, and Rowan briefly wondered if Gabrielle’s curses were also effected.
A stocky guy in medium-heavy armor wielding an oversized battleaxe yelled, “Dude! Let her go!”
Really. That’s all he can say.
“Oh, I’m not done with her!” Rowan pulled on the leash, forcefully. “Are you a good girl yet?!” Perhaps a smidgen of regret clasped his stomach. He didn’t wish to humiliate Ayla as so, but Gabrielle needed as good of a distraction as possible.
Ayla convulsed and screamed as if the collar had given her a high-voltage shock. “Ahhhhhh! Help! Please Help!”
“Oh my god! You sickos!” a woman in her late twenties wearing blue robes screeched. Others bellowed similarly, but this one woman was particularly unnerved.
Ice Dragonflies surrounded their position, done with the encampment. Ice bolts pelted their shield through Ambiguous’ zone skill, but they did little in comparison to Redwing.
“Heeeelp!” Ayla clawed at her neck, the collar not budging—because she wasn’t pulling at it for real.
From a steep angle another hunk of frothing ice crashed onto the dome. Chilly wind buffeted against Rowan’s hood-cloak, the Mortar Shell detonating with a boom. Tainted chunks scattered across the square arena. Dark mist engulfed the area, then dissipated in the influence dense light mana. Three generators online.
A man in green dragonscale leather, a Sharpshooter, pulled back his bow. The low tier sinew strings quivered as they were pulled taut. “Unhinged dogs like you need to be put down, Rowan Black!” A rapid chant left his lips as a boiling tidal wave erupted next to him. A Detonating Arrow rode the wave.
Rowan ignored a facial tick at his forehead, froze the tidal wave in place with ice blasts, and called forth a wall of Harpies for extra measure. The arrow melted a leading Harpy in a burst of green.
The leash in Rowan’s grasp pulled him leftward, Ayla squirming harder. “Please! Help!”
The chatbox beeped.
Ambiguous Pain (Raid Chat): Wow. Impressive acting.
Rowan silently agreed, and this display confirmed she wasn’t a double agent. Only a few threads of doubt remained, threads which could be easily discarded.
Ayla Frost: I do try.
The Sharpshooter’s chant ended with a flowery rhyme. Trailing a helix of green and white mana, a light version of Colossal Arrow rushed forth from the ivory bow.
One Harpy dashed forward—at Rowan’s command—and tanked the missile for the team. Its body and the frozen tidal wave sublimed in the explosion, mana and health bars dropping from 100% to zero instantaneously. A group of Harpies further behind soaked up the rest of the light magic fallout. Their shields dipped by less than a third.
How unimpressive. Sharpshooter isn’t nearly as powerful as Dark Ranger, though it could just be this guy’s gear.
Ayla pulled her hair, writhed in no pain at all. “HEELP!” Her voice broke.
A Swordsman—a young guy in his late teens—broke formation. “STOP HURTING HER YOU FREAK!” His face was red and stretched to the point of shaking, to the point of emotional breakdown. Maybe he had a crush on Ayla.
“Can’t you see she loves it?!” Rowan cackled madly, his acting not as solid.
But the young sucker bought it—and charged through the shield in a blur of limbs and an electrified blade.
Only to be stopped by a mortar shell explosion to the face. Ouch. Frozen gore clunked onto the walls as the mist cleared. Two generators online.
Then static movement scratched at the corner of Rowan’s eye.
Ambiguous was already on the move, her scimitar igniting and her skin coating with faceted onyx. As Rowan blinked right, she appeared next to him in a purple flash and parried a dagger roaring with brownish-white flames. In the assassin’s other hand, a glassy orb holding swirling white and brown mana flashed once. Twice.
The orb was thrown with reckless aim, missed Rowan by yards.
Ambiguous’ Onyx Skin absorbed the brunt of the blinding explosion, the onyx coating her skin evaporating. Rowan’s shield points drained by a fifth. The Rogue slid backward in the shockwave, stunned and burned, and Ambiguous chased without pause. A graceful slice offed the Rogue’s head.
“Saved you,” Ambiguous breathed.
Maybe the suicide bombing would’ve worked, maybe not. It was difficult to tell.
Her eyebrow arched. “Those grenades are a Rogue ultimate that does extra damage to bosses.”
Okay, she saved me.
Rowan chuckled, “Yeah, I owe you one.”
“Shit,” Ayla abruptly hissed, on a knee. Her facial muscles were contracted far more convincingly, exposed teeth gritted and eyes squinted. Genuine pain. A lot of pain—because her forearms and torso were blotchy, red, and blackened in many places. Her Mana Shield hadn’t been up to buffer against the grenade.
Of course it wasn’t up. And a flaming icon was pulsating with a red border under her party entry.
Heavy Burns
Impaired movement and reduced Dexterity, Strength, and Vitality.
Frothing ice hurtled overhead, from Redwing’s mortar, and struck the dome shield with a soft rumble, then discharged with a thunderous bang and the usual fleeting mist cloud. One generator left.
Gabrielle’s illusion was also gone. Not good. The mana grenade again.
Deciding to play it up, Rowan passed Ayla’s leash to Ambiguous, pinged her to spell another illusion later, and stepped toward the Harpy line. "Look at what you idiots have done to Ayla! All I want is a good little sex slave and you had to give her third-degree burns! Who’s really in the wrong here?!"
The Warrior lost it, hatred consuming him. "You, little shit!" He charged. So did the other few remaining melee-class players.
Bellowing a mighty warcry and taking ice bolts to the knees, the enraged man ran with his battleaxe held high. His body took on a tinge of red mana, and the axe’s blades burst into flames, glowing red-hot. His muscles flexed. The axe swung a wide arc. Flaming metal clashed against ice, slicing through a Harpy’s blade cleanly. He managed to cut down that whole Ice Harpy before the Dragonflies overwhelmed him. Serrated bolts shredded into his neck and chest, blood freezing in the spray.
The three others managed to best another two Harpies. Ambiguous sliced the second Swordsman from shoulder to hip, bifurcating the young
guy. Gargoyles and Dragonflies overwhelmed the other two Warriors sporting less-impressive gear. This really wasn’t a fair fight. Especially when they had no Paladins or World Bosses.
Through the minion link, Rowan felt Redwing hurl the next Mortar Shell. The last. Rowan picked up Ayla’s leash and looked over his shoulder, watching the glowing chunk of misty ice arc through the swarm against the pretty night sky. He’d take a photo for Gabrielle if he had a camera. A shame.
Ambiguous grabbed his wrist and spun him back around. "Group portal! It got combo’d with a Quick Cast."
The name registered. Quick Cast: an uber-rare skill scroll which almost never drops in dungeons and raids. Gabrielle had consumed a copy; or rather, stolen the drop from a jungle raid during early beta.
Under the failing dome shield, a fiery arch gateway flared into existence. Regal mage robes of crimson-ivory and a silver staff tipped with a glittering ruby stepped through, the fire obscuring the view for just a second.
Devil's Waltz Page 32
