Night Boarding
EVEN I, CAPTAIN of the bireme, was fearful when looking on the ghastly ugly brutes gathered on the deck of White Shark. Fierce, wild orcs in combat paint were howling, stomping their feet and waving their weapons in the air, getting themselves worked up into a state of frenzy. After eating fly agaric or some other hallucinogenic mushrooms, the berserkers were just rolling around on the deck, howling hysterically and causing themselves bloody wounds, enraging themselves further before the battle.
In the small space unoccupied by the armed horde, there stood a hurriedly constructed sacrificial altar. On top of it, wincing from the cold wind and briny spray hitting her naked body was Yunna. The girl was shivering, sneezing, and kept asking for the offering to be made fast before she got sick. But Shaman Ghuu, wearing countless skulls, coins and bones on his necklaces, was in no rush and asked the victim to bear it a bit longer, as the moon had yet to come out from behind the clouds, while the design in blood on the goblin girl's body had yet to dry. The shaman was extremely put together and serious. Periodically adjusting his heavy, feathered headdress with his shivering hands, he continued mumbling out incomprehensible phrases in orc language.
The shaman himself had announced that a live sacrifice would be necessary — in his words, there was no reason to hope for the mercy and blessing of the gods of Boundless Realm without such a ritual, which was to say nothing of the demons. What was more, Ghuu was insistent that the outcome of the sacrifice would be much more effective if the blood spilled on the altar came from a woman.
"I know the best candidate for such a sacrifice, but she's not in Boundless Realm..." I answered the shaman. Ghuu laughed in reply:
"That's right, captain! It would be the greatest satisfaction to offer up Angelica Wayward for a good cause! But she isn't here now, and we'll have to think over our options."
Yunna overheard our conversation, and volunteered all on her own, asking me a few times beforehand to make sure she would respawn an hour later alive and well. I assured her that she would, so the issue of an appropriate victim was solved beneficially. Now, though, we still had to remedy the problem of the shaman himself. The issue was that Ghuu Ghel All-Knowing had expended too much force creating the ghastly curses and was barely able to stay on his feet. Thankfully, I had a Strength Restoration Elixir on hand. It was hurriedly poured down the shaman's throat and chased with a glass of strong rum, returning the young orc to life. He finished drawing the complex pattern made up of strange symbols on Yunna’s body and, now, Ghuu was waiting for the optimal time to perform the ritual, warming the crooked, serrated sacrificial knife in his freezing hands.
All in all, I had been extremely fortunate to find the shaman — the strong young orc had rich experience and, crucially, supported me in all undertakings. The shaman, in line with the first mate and another few experienced sailors, was a key NPC on the pirate bireme, and his opinion of me governed the loyalty of the whole crew.
Ghuu was also nervous, given that he'd never before undertaken such rituals. So, I gave the shaman an uplifting smack on the back and quietly assured him that it was sure to go off without a hitch. From another perspective, it probably would have looked strange — a funny-looking big-eared goblin staring at and encouraging a huge muscular orc shaman, who then smiled thankfully in reply, displaying his tusks and returning to a calm state.
Foreman Skill increased to level 20!
You may now choose your first specialization in this skill
I waited a long time for that skill to reach level twenty, and already had a perk picked out. Increasing the number of NPC's I could control by one and a half times was pretty sweet, as was the ability to slightly improve the stats of my workers. But, considering the present facts and needs, I chose a different one entirely:
Specialization chosen: Improved Worker Loyalty (+50 to all loyalty checks)
What a surprise this would be to the Dryad Dancer or any other player that tried to lure my allies onto their side in the future! What was more, I had read from the system information that this perk worked not only on hired workers (in this case the orc pirates), but also on all my pets, mounts and NPC companions as well. It was very important to VIXEN’s case, given that she was not formally under my control right now, and was still with me exclusively due to her good opinion of me. And for the unpredictable Taisha, another +50 to all loyalty checks would help avoid a significant amount of eccentricity in the future.
"The time has come!" the shaman cried out loudly, seeing the moon come out from behind the clouds.
The moonlight had barely touched the body lying on the altar when Ghuu swung and plunged the crooked knife with a precise strike into the girl's heart. Yunna's body lit up a strange shade of violet, then disappeared without a trace. The victim's brother Irek, who had been standing next to me, lurched forward but I held the goblin boy back. Tamina Fierce's children had only been made undying recently, and though they had already survived one death, they were not yet used to it.
ATTENTION!!!
The blessing of the gods of Boundless Realm has been received for the whole crew of White Shark
For any actions requiring luck checks: chance of success increased by 10%
Resistance to all types of damage increased by 15%
All negative effects removed
The following effects are active: Night Vision, Stone Skin, Four-Leaf Clover, Keen Sight, Level-11 Regeneration
Duration of blessing of the gods effect: 300 seconds
299... 298... 297... We had less than five minutes blessing. What were we doing wasting time then?! I got up high and screamed my lungs out:
"Helmsman, sharp tack to the starboard! Everyone take hold of something!... (what followed was unprintable)... You're deaf bait for clumsy toads! I ordered you to hold on! Set a course toward the enemy! Weapons at the ready! Everyone take cover behind the big shields! Why is no one manning the catapult?! Where's that damned dwarf?!"
From the mess of fallen bodies, issuing an intricate series of curses, Gnum Spiteful emerged. I pointed him at the catapult, which was ready to fire, then motioned toward the quickly approaching trireme:
"If you hit, you can be the first to collect trophies! But if you miss, I'll order your red beard turned into a mop, and I'll force you to wash the whole ship with it!"
"Don't you worry, captain, I won't miss," the dwarf said, walking up carefully to the catapult, trying not to get too close, or touch the bucket filled with bomb pots. They smelled of a ghastly evil even to me, a character with no magical abilities whatsoever. "Give me a torch, now!"
Irek extended Gnum Spiteful a lit torch, after which he hurried to get away from the dangerous contraption. The dwarf got down on his haunches, looked at the approaching target and turned the catapult mechanism with his free hand. After that, drooling and raising his thumb, he gave a dismayed wince and turned the mechanism another half radius. One after the other, the dwarf lit the bombs in the bowl of the catapult, quenched the torch in a basin of water, then picked up a heavy sledgehammer.
The heavy hammer hit out the stopper and the catapult cast the bunch of burning projectiles upward with a whooshing sound. Leaving behind a sparking trail of smoke, the fifteen bright stars flew up into the night sky. We all watched with a fading in our hearts as the fiery balls flew through the sky, growing brighter with every second. The bunch of flames drew out a sharp parabola, then started downward. It seemed about to miss — the helmsman of the trireme saw the danger in time and made a hard turn to the portside, maneuvering his ship out of the way. A moan of disappointment rang out from all around.
But suddenly a miracle happened — the flying pots gave a slight correction to their trajectory and slammed right into the big ship! Some of the tied-together pots got mixed up in the rigging, instantly turning the mast and sail of the trireme into a huge burning torch. Other bombs rained a deadly precipitation down on the deck. A wave of burning fire engulfed the trireme. Well, well, well! That was fucking aw
esome!
Once upon a time, I had been forced to sit through old videos on military conflicts from the beginning of the 21st century about heavy flamethrowing systems or thermobaric munitions. What I saw on the deck of the trireme was a faithful recreation these terrifying combat scenes — a great number of separate fires conjoined into one all-devouring flame, condemning those inside to a near certain death.
A few messages flickered up on my screen:
Experience received: 480 Exp.
Experience received: 112 Exp.
Experience received: 590 Exp.
...
Exotic Weapons skill increased to level 13!
...
Experience received: 320 Exp.
Experience received: 490 Exp.
Level thirty-three!
Level thirty-four!
Racial ability improved: 75% resistance to cold
Racial ability improved: 80% resistance to poison
Dodge Skill increased to level 21!
The last entry was related to a meter-and-a-half long arrow that whizzed past my ear and slammed into the mast — the ship approaching us, engulfed in flames had a ballista on its bow. I spent a few seconds with my eyes peeled in horror, watching the flaring hell on the deck of the enemy ship as it approached us. For some reason, I lost all desire to board the ship and take up close combat.
"Helmsman, turn hard to starboard! Avoid the battering ram! God damn you, chop the boarding hooks off! Dim-witted crustaceans, you're dying like flies! Get behind the shields away from the arrows! Nymph, quickly make me a ghost in the crow's nest. Give them a target to shoot at!" I brayed out. The crew of the flaming trireme was trying to latch into our ship in with their grappling hooks and get onto our ship away from their flaming hell.
Such a great many different events were compressed in the following two minutes that I have to admit I got lost. I figured them all out in greater detail by the logs and recordings. First, we were rained down upon with a wave of deadly arrows from the trireme. The deck of the enemy ship was significantly higher than ours, so the enemy bowmen reaped a bloody harvest, taking down the orcs of my boarding team. My bowmen and crossbowmen were not asleep at the wheel, either though. I noticed a few dead NPC bowmen on the trireme, but we lost that round of battle cleanly. At some point, Irek died. When exactly it happened, I did not see. I only noted the death of my NPC companion by the grayed out team-member icon, that eventually faded to nothing.
After that, the ships collided with a groan. And although the experienced Ziabash Hardy standing at the helm of the White Shark did manage to avoid a direct strike from the trireme's bronze battering ram, the sides of our ship took a noticeable blow. The glancing impact knocked nearly everyone off their feet. There were a great many broken oars and shouts of maimed oarsmen... It all came together into a unified uncontrollable situation. But there's always a silver lining — the strike turned White Shark away from the heavier trireme, and the grappling hooks that did reach our boat were all cut down. The gap between the ships immediately widened to around seven meters, and was still expanding quickly. Not able to stay on their feet or simply in too great a rush to jump to White Shark, our opponents were plopping into the water, and among them were not only NPC's but also living players.
I led my gaze over an armor-bound level-89 human paladin as he sunk like a stone to the bottom of the sea. A few seconds later, a level-77 human barbarian went down to check up on him — this one could swim, but a blow from a heavy oar to his head turned the experienced swimmer into an amateur diver.
The next enemy, though, was a significant threat... I couldn't even hold back a frightened scream, when the flaming level-178 (!!!) human warrior made a short run and jumped at us right over the water. I didn’t even have an idea of if we'd ever manage to stop such a high-level hand-to-hand fighter or not. Thankfully, Gnum Spiteful was standing near the edge and, like a tennis player accepting a serve, met the flying enemy in the air with his two-handed sledge-hammer. The ringing when the hammer hit the metal armor was deafening. The swordsman was sent flying back and headed off after the paladin to explore the bottom of the ocean. I do not know how much experience was gained for the swordsman, but the Dwarf Mechanic lit up for some time from the several level-ups he got in a row.
The few NPC soldiers that did manage to jump over to White Shark were given a very harsh reception — in a matter of seconds, they were torn to shreds by the enraged orcs and the Gray Pack. A stone golem, conjured by an enemy mage right on our deck, met the same fate — he was very quickly taken down and beaten to a rocky pulp. At that moment, I noticed that one of the enemy players was shown on the mini-map with a nonstandard marker — neither a red nor a black skull, but a simple black triangle. That symbol meant the player had earlier been added to my black list, but who it was and why I didn't like them was something I didn't have time to look into. Through a loophole, I shot practically all the poisoned needles I had with my blowgun, but the enemies just wouldn’t stop coming!
Then, right before my eyes, Taisha died — the second the girl stuck her head out from behind one of the big wooden shields, a crossbow bolt flew right between her eyes. I tried to figure out which of the enemies had killed my companion, but doing so nearly made me meet the same fate myself — three arrows whistled right past my head.
"Amra, behind you!" came a heart-rending cry from Valerianna Quickfoot, drawing my attention.
The dead orcs were all standing up. Irek and even Taisha stood up as well. All of their gazes were empty, not reflecting a drop of life force. Not paying any mind to the bolt sticking out from between her eyes, Taisha unsheathed her daggers. The enemies had a necromancer raising our fallen. Damn...
"No, no, no. Not on my watch!" shouted Shaman Ghuu, pulling a little bag off his belt and throwing it at the herd of undead.
A yellow-green powder, acrid and burning the eyes, blocked my view of the deck for a few seconds and, when it settled, all the dead were again lying motionless and calm, as nature intended. Fortunately, that was the last tense moment of the battle. The White Shark put some distance between it and the burning trireme, and was getting further away still. Magical shrapnel flew in our direction another a few times, but it didn't do particular harm to either ship or crew.
"Report on our losses!" I demanded from the first mate just after catching my breath. In his left shoulder, there were two visually identical arrows with red fletching.
Ziabash Hardy, whose life bar was down in the orange, was in a very gloomy state and answered without hiding his annoyance:
"Captain Amra, we lost seventeen from the boarding team. Also dead are your companions Irek, Taisha and one warg. Eighty-three were wounded, seven of whom severely. I suppose the troll will regenerate, though. His arms were ripped out and his head was split in two but, in a day, there'll be no more trace. As for trophies, there were none, and our ship needs repair..."
The trophy situation had not turned out for the best... I looked dejectedly at the flaming trireme, quickly falling astern. On it, there seemed to be a battle raging for the right to ride in the only dinghy not to get destroyed. The undying won this bloody skirmish — all eight of the players who survived to that point took places in the boat and started rowing in despair to the far-off, barely visible shore on the horizon.
"Now we can take trophies!" I promised with a grin. "Turn White Shark around. set a course for the lifeboat! Let's see how much those undying are willing to pay to avoid meeting the sea floor!"
"Amra, don't rush it! The players aren't gonna get away from us. There's seventeen kilometers to shore. They'll be rowing for an hour at least," my sister stopped me. "Now, we'd better go to the burning ship. I can put out the flames on the trireme, but it will take some time. Such a large ship has a fairly decent value all on its own. What's more, on the lower decks, there are three hundred oar-slaves chained to their oars. And in the hold, there's probably plenty of interesting stuff as well."
"The mavka's talking sense
!" shouted someone from my crew, suddenly inspired. "We should save the trophies before they burn up! And we also need to help the slaves avoid the horrible fate of being burned alive. If any of them want to become pirates, we'll take them on. The rest we can sell! They undying won't get far! We can catch them later!"
Seeing such a rare unity of spirit among the crew, I ordered them to turn White Shark around.
* * *
"There's no sense in trying. I'll never let your rickety little boat reach the shore. I'll catch you first. Stop your pointless rowing and listen up. I'm giving you the chance to buy your way out of death, avoiding the loss of experience and valuable items. I offer two options.
One: you pay five hundred coins each and surrender. Then, we cast lots. Five of you remain alive and unharmed, and will be released on shore. But three will be executed — hung from the boom, made to walk the plank, keelhauled, or I'll think up something else. In any case, I am now a pirate, and the viewers of my video clips are expecting that kind of content.
Two: you pay one thousand coins each, and only one of your eight will be so unfortunate. A good outcome no matter how you look at it — seven of you will remain alive. Those seven can even watch the loser get executed if they like. I'll let you wave your hand to the camera and say 'hi' to your friends and relatives — in any case, my video clip will be watched by millions of viewers. When else will you get the chance at world-wide fame.
Stay on the Wing Page 23
