by Andrew Lynch
I walked in the direction the guard had pointed and started to see more and more people. They were all the same as the guard, giant viking looking dudes. I use the gender neutral “dudes”, of course, as some were definitely women. In fact, they seemed to have different armaments based on sex. The women had short swords and giant shields, while the men had spears, javelins, and bows. Interesting.
I began to trudge my way up the hill, my feet slipping on loose dirt, stones, and snow. This wasn’t ideal fighting ground, that was for sure.
As I crested the hill, I got a better view of the camp behind me. It was a snowy wasteland. Grey rocks, white snow, and brown tents. The camp was extensive, though. I mean, it was something else. There must have been at least one hundred tents similar to the one I had spawned in – and that one had bed rolls out for eight people. Why was there housing for eight hundred people in the middle of nowhere?
Although, for that many tents, there weren’t nearly enough NPCs milling around. I’d only seen a few dozen. I looked ahead of me instead of back at the camp and saw the reason why. The front lines. An army.
Eight hundred doesn’t sound very impressive as a number to go to war with. I always think of hundreds of thousands, or millions, from the great wars, but let me tell you, eight hundred is enough. Eight hundred was more than I could count, so I decided it was just a mass of bodies. However big it was, it was definitely an army. It was filled out with the same guards I had passed on the way up the hill. It wasn’t laid out in neat blocks and rows, but there were definitely groups and formations. Each formation was made up of about fifty people, except for one at the army’s centre, which boasted a full two hundred.
Despite their motley, rag-tag appearance, there was still a uniformity to eight hundred people all wearing roughly the same thing. Which made me question what the other two hundred strong block of people was supposed to be. They were all wearing vastly different clothes, not only from the rest of the army, but from each other.
I noticed a small contingent behind the main body. I headed for them on the assumption they were a command unit of some sort. They had more metal and less browns as part of their armour, so it made sense.
As I closed in on them, the racket from a thousand people sitting around doing nothing rose. There were hushed conversations, a few walking around, but most were just sitting and waiting. I never knew that waiting was so loud. Once I was within earshot of the command group, I got my quest update. “Situation Objective 3: Prepare”
There were five people standing in a circle, conversing. One of them stood out, their name appearing above them in red, instead of the standard grey. I knew what it meant. A red nameplate marked him as not only someone of the warrior class, but also as a player. He was the first other player I’d seen in the game. I’d become so used to interacting with Angie and Horace that I forgot they weren’t real.
‘Hail!’ I shouted over the din and held my hand out in greeting. ‘I’m Severo.’
The player, “Hursh”, turned to look at me. He nodded my way, but then returned to the NPCs around him.
I lowered my hand. Hmm. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. I moved closer, until I was just outside the circle and could hear them properly.
‘The scouts mark them as being the next valley over. It won’t be long,’ one of the giant NPCs said.
Hursh responded. ‘No changes? We’ll hold out long enough for the evacuation?’
‘No changes. The city will be on the move.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
The five of them turned to face me. I suddenly regretted making a small character.
‘Are you lost?’ Hursh asked.
‘Umm, no. I’m here on a Situation. So, it’s you and me leading the army, right? I must have spawned in after you. Care to fill me in on what’s happening?’
Stoney silence from the five.
‘First time?’ Hursh eventually asked.
‘Uhh, yeah. First situation.’
One of the NPCs spoke. ‘I told you to put a lower level limit on the call to arms.’
‘No. We need everyone we can get. Even a level three.’ Hursh extended his hand and I clasped it. ‘Look, I don’t have time to run you through everything. This is my army. The Eastern Shadow is about to strike, and it’s our goal to hold them here for as long as possible. We’re buying more time for my city to evacuate – get the citizens to safety. We’re doing good work here. You’re needed along with the rest of the players covering our left flank. Off you go, and good luck.’ He beat his chest, and then closed the circle to me.
Well, that was a whole load of stuff that I wanted more information about. Where was Angie the exposition bot when you needed her?
I turned and started walking to the left flank. This was Hursh’s army, and we were trying to save his city? How high level was this guy to be able to garrison eight hundred troops, plus evacuate however many more. He had to be a level in the hundreds if not thousands. Did levels even go that high? Ugh, more basic things I didn’t know. I’d have to ask Angie if there was a level cap.
As I reached the mismatched formation and saw their nameplates, I started putting things together. This was a player only group. The call to arms that NPC had mentioned must have meant that high level players could create their own situations for others to join. I had assumed all situations were scripted events by the game designers, but this was player driven content. Very interesting.
This block of troops had a nervous energy the NPCs I walked past had lacked. It must have been other people’s first time as well. A few had taken their lead from the rest of the army and were sat down chatting, but most were standing up and walking around restlessly. Two players noticed me coming and moved to intercept.
‘Hail, Severo. Spec?’
‘Spec?’
‘Yeah, what specialisation are you?’
‘Warlock.’
Both of them frowned. ‘That’s class. You’re new?’
‘Yeah. First–’
‘First situation, gotcha. You’re ranged DPS then I’d guess, the default warlock spec.’
‘Oh, right. Yeah, ranged DPS.’
‘We’re trying to organise the players, make a proper raid of this, okay?’
‘Sure! Where do you want me?’
‘Behind the tanks, in front of the healers. Hold position, and it’ll be no problem.’
The talky one and the silent one both turned to walk off, but hesitated, then turned back.
‘You know what we’re fighting or why?’
‘Eastern Shadow, so we can evacuate Hursh’s city, right?’
‘Yeah, that’s right, but it’s more than that. I don’t have time to explain too much, we’re trying to get more guys to swap to tank spec, but this isn’t an isolated thing. The Eastern Shadow rose up about a year ago and have been on a warpath, destroying anyone in their way. They’ve killed the highest level players, wiped their towns, practically reset them to being new scrubs, freshly spawned. We’re fighting here not for Hursh, but for when the Shadow reaches our own cities.’
I considered telling them that the only thing I’d killed outside of the tutorial was a single cultist, and I’d done that by convincing other people to do it for me, but somehow it seemed like a poor time to bring it up.
‘Oh, and use your CC. What is it you’ve got, uhh… Shadow Tentacles?’
‘Corrupted Tendrils, yeah.’
‘That. That is more important than a level three’s damage, okay. Root as many of them as you can. Use it on cooldown, top priority, okay?’
I nodded, a bit flustered by all of this information.
The silent one looked to the hills beyond us and tapped the talky one’s shoulder.
‘And here they come. Good luck, buddy.’
They walked off. Well… I needed more information than that. I was needed between the tanks and the healers, so I should get myself to the middle of this throng somewhere. I looked to the hills, and sure enough I could see small figures appearing over the c
rest, but I couldn’t make them out yet.
The Eastern Shadow. How ominous. I got stuck into the midst of the players, nameplates of all colours signifying all the classes swirling around me. I was about to talk to another player who looked as lost as I did, when a booming voice from behind shouted out.
‘Players!’
We all turned. We all also pretended we hadn’t jumped at the sound.
One of the NPCs that had been stood in the command group was up on a rock. He looked like all the others and had three large javelins racked on his back.
‘Hursh has given your command over to me for this battle. Our task is breaking the enemy. Follow your orders, and you’ll get what you came for.’
Short but sweet. Amusingly, the complete opposite of the person giving the speech. He looked pissed. I supposed the proper word was “grim” as we were heading into battle, but still.
I leaned towards the guy next to me. ‘Breaking the enemy. So we’re like the tip of the spear, huh? Nice.’
The guy was a shaman and turned to me. He lifted the wolf snout that was covering his eyes. ‘Lol what? No, you twat. We’re the “braking” squad, not the “breaking” squad. Read the text that came over in the chat channel. We’re straight fucked.’
‘Oh.’
I pulled up the tab for the chat channel, and sure enough, the shaman was right. Well, that sucked.
Again, the blue text scrolled along giving me a tiny bit of experience before updating my quest. “Situation Objective 4: Follow orders”
The NPC commander jumped down from his rock and strode through the unit as if we weren’t there. Once he’d reached the other side, he motioned with his arm and bellowed, ‘Let’s go!’
So, far from protecting the flank or anything vital like that, he was about to lead us into the centre of the battle, where our stacked corpses could most effectively slow the enemy down. Oh how I missed the good old days of crafting a mildly better stick.
But I marched. And we all marched. I wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe I’d get enough experience points to level before I died and lost my Dirty Robe. In fact, assuming I would die here, I’d end up with no loot or upgrades at all. Suddenly this situation seemed rather pointless. I’d need to talk to Angie about this.
I looked up from the ground and saw two interesting things. You know, aside from the shadows on the hills that were slowly getting closer. The first was that there was a big, golden glowing circle ahead of us, it’s light stretching high into the sky. A waypoint if ever I’d seen one. Also, a second glowing ring at the back of the army with a figure hovering in it, spread out like a religious icon of old. It had to be Hursh as it didn’t look wrapped in animal furs.
Okay, that was kind of cool. He must have entered the Real Time Strategy mode of Armies of Tulgatha. He must have set the waypoint for us. He was about to manage an army of one thousand soldiers from a birdseye view. I wonder how much he could micromanage? I didn’t feel any compulsion to head towards the waypoint, so if he wanted me to take any quick, small action it would be down to me to notice. Not that I’d find out in this fight, because why control a puny level three warlock that may or may not do what you say, when you could control one of the NPCs who were more powerful and were probably forced to follow his orders.
We stopped. It was a slow, meandering kind of stop, and everyone started to organise themselves based on our new facing. Tanks headed to the front line, healers to the back, and the DPS just kind of stood around in the middle getting in the way of those with designated roles. I started getting the feeling that I wasn’t the only one realising that a “situation” should actually be called “how to die quick and not influence people”.
There were no further orders from our NPC commander: those weren’t needed because the enemy started to take form. They must have been three minutes away. Just out of range of a longbow or a long range spell. Or, I assumed that was why no one had fired yet. There was no uniformity to the enemy that I could see. There were beasts, monsters, men, insects, and everything in between. They also weren’t “shadows” at all. In fact, them being called The Eastern Shadow must have been tongue in cheek, as their only unifying characteristic was that they, in fact, did not cast a shadow.
Huh. Weird.
I heard a deep bass voice at the back of my mind, and a glowing red circle appeared over one of the enemies. Hursh had given the order to attack!.
The shaman next to me pulled both arms back and started talking in a voice that surely wasn’t his, but was filled with wisps and rasps, spitting sparks from his mouth. After a few seconds, magma flowed from the previously solid ground up into his palms and he threw himself forwards, sending two still growing chunks of magma catapulting towards the enemy.
The unit moved forwards, and I stared, dumbfounded. I didn’t have a long range catapult spell. What was I going to do? My shield would only take, like, one hit. Maybe none if the hit was big enough. I was in over my head. Or should I say, I was in over my head’s way, as I got pushed from behind by a guy who’d called himself “Ovar Mehud”. He was a healer, and apparently I needed to keep step with the unit.
I jogged forward quickly, keeping myself roughly in the middle of the tanks and healers. Other ranged DPS were throwing their version of long ranged spells or summoned minions. Ents pulled themselves from the ground and charged the enemy in lumbering charges, rock golems exploded from beneath, wind furies appeared from around us, lightning bolts crashed into enemy lines, chunks of what I can only assume were the actual fucking moon left craters in both the enemy lines, and my vision, as they fizzled their arcane power away just after impact.
This was awesome. I thought we’d looked so disparate, so hopeless, like there was no way we could stand before the rolling hills of enemies. But now I saw power. I saw what I could hope to do. I knew that I had levelling to get to so I could unlock my version of these amazing spells. The levels gave me the spells, the gear gave me the power.
The pace picked up. The whole unit was jogging now, and despite those incredible displays of power from some of the higher level players, the shadowless enemy seemed unaffected. Maybe the unit that had been highlighted in red was a bit sparser than before, but as the tide of enemy was still pouring over the hill in the distance, and the valley was becoming increasingly filled with things that wanted to kill me, it seemed like a small victory.
As the weight of bodies around me sped up, I found myself matching them in some sort of herd instinct. Who knew that herd instinct, a prey’s instinct, could also pull you towards danger. I always thought it had been built into us to get us away from danger. But I was running, and my legs were pumping, and my heart was pounding, and my hands were casting Shadow Skin.
Looking over the shoulders of my fellow players, I could see the front lines about to connect. I remembered what that player had told me. Corrupted Tendrils on cooldown. I selected the spell and cast it as far in front of me as I could.
Chapter 14: Raid Combat
Target density.
I couldn’t miss.
“Corrupted Tendrils hits 12 MOBs”
“7 MOBs resist Corrupted Tendrils”
So, I couldn’t miss, but I could get resisted.
The forward momentum of the unit slowly ground to a halt as the tanks had to set down defensives. Some more literally than others. Some of the tanks relied on speed and movement to avoid damage, or at least they were jumping around all over the place like that was the case. Others buried their shield in the ground and smacked anyone stupid enough to get close with a huge club. There was also a mage in the front line that drew my eye. Half his body was encased in ice, and it extended out into a giant shield, while the other side was wreathed in flame, licking out and scorching anyone that got close. It only made me more excited for the spell modification unlocking at level ten. I could be some kind of shadow tank if I really wanted.
The tanks had done a good job of closing ranks, and the enemy hadn’t managed to break through. I, howeve
r, didn’t have any damaging spells that didn’t require line of sight. Back here with the ranged DPS, I was pretty useless. I had my Shadow Skin, and I could cast Corrupted Tendrils every fifteen seconds, but that was it. I needed to get closer.
I weaved through a trio of mages, all casting arcane barrages, round a warrior that had specced for ranged DPS, screaming and hurling axes into the air, and past a warlock who – I stopped and turned. A warlock! The ground around him bubbled with a toxic green stench, and he cast something that made the green poison bubble and seep into the ground.
He glanced at me. ‘Hey man, ‘sup?’
‘Hail, fellow follower of the dark arts.’ Everyone playing a warlock must be into the roleplay aspect, right? I mean, it was a pretty awesome class fantasy. Or was that too much?
‘Oh, you into RP? We’re in a fight, man, I don’t have time.’
‘Oh. No, I just meant hi. Umm, what level are you?’ I realised that was a stupid question as soon as I asked. I looked at his nameplate and he was called “Porath”, and was level 64.
‘Sorry. I just haven’t met another warlock yet. Do you have any advice? I mean, what should I expect?’
He puffed up his cheeks and sighed. ‘Shit, man. Asking the big questions. You’re level 3. Just go level up, and ask your construct anything you don’t get. Tell you what, if you don’t find another warlock before you hit level 15, send me a whisper. I’ll run you through some things, different specs, best spell mods, pet or no pet, that kind of stuff. The construct is great, but it’s a non-advisory service, if you know what I mean. Just the raw info. Anyway, fight time. Go cast Corrupting Tendrils or something.’
I thought back to Angie. Huh, Porath was right. She’d never really given an opinion on anything, only ever basic information. And some disparaging sarcasm, of course. I turned and noticed that my Corrupting Tendrils was off cooldown now, so cast it again at the max range I could.
“Corrupted Tendrils hits 26 MOBs”
“23 MOBs resist Corrupted Tendrils”
Aww man. That’s like a 90% resist rate. I was so under levelled for this place.
